Swine Flu Masks and Marketing

I went on amazon to check prices of masks. Even though we're employing more natural methods of keeping ourselves healthy (raw garlic, mushrooms, vitamins c and d, omega-3 oils, lots of rest, fluids, etc. etc.), I figure it may be reasonable to purchase some disposable masks. I noticed the green masks--those that they are showing on our television news programs--are unavailable. However, there are still the regular white masks available. I noticed the green masks are including the term "swine and bird flu" in their sales and marketing pitch. However, it's important to note that it isn't the color that matters but the type of mask. N95 is what you need to look for.

And do the natural things. Oil of Oregano is also known for it's immune enhancing and bacterial and viral fighting properties as are echinecea and goldenseal. You can find these for reasonable prices through Swanson Vitamins online. One other trick I've tried (for the cold virus but it should work for other viruses as well given it's a huge dose of vitamin C) is to take a sliver off the skin of an orange and, with a clean finger, pinch the skin until juice comes out. Take the juice on the finger and stick the finger up the nose and inhale strongly. It'll knock your socks off but the last time I used it, it was effective in shortening the duration and severity of my cold. I've also been popping chopped up raw garlic, nature's miracle anti-fungal/anti-viral/anti-bacteria. So has Mr. Nina. We smell, but who cares if it's keeping us healthy. I've used raw garlic for years with very good success. It has knocked out most of my cold viruses when taken at the initial onset. And when it doesn't work at the onset, it reduces my symptoms. Garlic. It's natural. And cheap. Better than some damn pharmaceutical like Tamiflu. But that's for another post, another time.


Oregon Unemployment Figures By County

Current as of months end for March.

Remember to double those figures as they do not include those who have fallen off the unemployment insurance roster nor do they include those on extensions. And also factor in the millions who lost good paying jobs and are having to work part-time at Walmart and other poverty-inducing slave labor corporations.

We never had a full economic recovery from the last "recession" (full economic recovery meaning income rising for all workers). This depression will be around for a long time to come until and unless people decide to support one another in self-employment ventures. Banks get removed. Money too.

You get my drift.


Project Pro-ject by Hashem

This is a video our neighbors next door made. We saw them doing some of the outdoor filming last week. If you look close enough, you can see our fence off to the left at the start of the chair/car scene. I love the visuals of this. Made my heart smile at the end.


A Dog With One Thing On Her Mind:


This is what happens when I head outside to take pictures of the garden. I am reminded by the little furry Queen that there are more important things to be engaging in.


"You cannot solve a problem with the same mindset that created it."

Most of us are familiar with this quote. I will add in "people" next to "mindset". Therefore, it stands to reason that we must realize we cannot fix any of our current ills by reappointing and turning to the same people with the same mindsets.


Economic Recovery? I Don't Think So.

There's been talk as of late that finally, the economy's beginning to recover (tell that to much of Europe whose unemployment figures are hovering around 20%). However, for those of us who have been following the (idea of a) creation of a global economy and global banking system and who believe in it's inception (I'm still playing the wait and see approach although I lean towards it being a reality, especially given the ongoing "nationalizing" of the banking system), a true recovery is likely not going to happen anytime soon. Here's some information I received from the David Icke Newsletter. If intrigued, visit his website (link on my blog under my favs) to investigate further.

"We have had a ‘Budget’ this week in Britain, the day when the guy officially in charge of the nation’s finances, emphasis on ‘officially’, reveals as little as he can get away with and tells us what he intends to do about it. It was a classic of its kind and made some unwelcome history to boot. These two facts are fundamentally related in that the history came with the announcement by the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Alistair Darling, that he intends to trigger a record UK government debt; the classic bit was his prediction that an economic recovery would begin at the end of 2009.

In the United States, Barack Obama, songster for the Wall Street cabal, has talked of ‘hopeful signs’ that the economy is improving. It’s all a con. They are having you on. I have been saying since October/November that the engineered economic collapse is planned to have three major phases: (1) To crash the economy (done); (2) To have governments borrow extraordinary amounts of money from the very banking and financial cartel that the same ‘money’ is being spent to ‘bail out’ (being done); (3) To crash the economy still further when government options are exhausted and leave them with no way of responding (waiting to be done). Then they step forward to 'save us' with a globally centralised banking dictatorship based on a World Central Bank."

Paranormal Experience? Coincidence? What do you think?

The following is a true story... It's a story of intrigue, perplexity and frustration along with a lot of sewing, all revolving around a back left pocket button on a pair of jeans.
A couple of months ago, I picked up a pair of jeans at a thrift store. Aside from having a button missing on the back left pocket (important to remember for the sake of the story), the jeans were in great condition. I figured I'd just go to the fabric store, sew on a new button and be done with it. Of course I ended up putting on two brand new pair of buttons in order to have a matching set.
Within a month, I noticed the button on the back left pocket was missing. Hmm, that's odd, I thought, remembering the back left button was missing when I first bought the pair of jeans. I checked the button on the right pocket--it was still firmly in place. I checked the dryer and the washing machine. Nope, not there. I looked in the car and around the house. Nothing.

So I went back to the fabric store a couple of weeks ago and bought two brand new buttons again and once again, sewed them on.

Last night, I pulled the jeans out of the dryer. And guess what? Yep. The button on the back left pocket was missing in action once again. The button on the right, still firmly in place.

I did another check of the dryer and the washing machine and found nothing. To this day, those 2 missing buttons still have not turned up.

At this point, I'm thinking maybe 3 times is a charm and that, perhaps, for whatever reason, this pair of jeans is simply not meant to have a button on the back left pocket.

Coincidence? I'm not so sure. Considering the jeans were used, I'm beginning to wonder as to the history of the jeans and the previous female owner.

I'm completely perplexed on this one. Any ideas (of the intuitive and/or logical kind) would be very appreciated!


Planting A Garden

Mr. Nina and I visited the local Wednesday Farmer's Market this afternoon. It was opening day, the sun was out, not too hot, the ocean breeze was kicking in offering a refreshing coolness, which was a nice change from the 80 plus degree weather we have been having this week. While Mr. N was just there to check things out and tag along with me, I was there to get some veggie and herb starts. I came away with some peas, swiss chard, parsley, chives and the most yummy delightful herb "lemon thyme". Oh my god--the smell--I couldn't resist! The vendor only had to rub some on his fingers and let me smell and I was hooked.

I'm an easy sell sometimes, especially when it comes to anything edible.

We also bought a pint of fresh organic strawberries and a bunch of red leaf spinach. We discussed whether to spend $4 on kettle corn. We ended up saying "no" to this wonderful sweetness. Now it's after 10pm and my munchie button has kicked in and I'm wishing we had bought a bag.

After we strolled around a bit, spoke with some of the vendors, gave attention to some of the dogs that were there with their owners, we decided to head on home. On the way, we picked up some planting mix, topsoil, compost and organic granular fertilizer. Once home, I got busy mixing the soils, planting, arranging...and soon realized I need to start doing my yoga ball routine again. Why? Aching back. This time last year I was already in a routine of 4-5 days of doing the ball. When it came time for me to do some gardening, after an hour or so I noticed something: my back didn't ache. At all. Today? Within 15 minutes I was making noise as I sat down and got up, pausing to stretch.

Ok likely this is a boring post to most so I'll wrap it up while maintaining the illusion that this information is worthwhile reading to others besides myself. : ) Next to buy are beans, tomatoes, spinach and a couple more herbs.

A Poem And Some Song Lyrics

I journal almost daily and have been doing so since I was 18. I recall my first journal entry. It was late May. I was two weeks away from graduation and was estatic to finally be escaping the prison walls of the public school system. I remember how excited I was about an upcoming party (aside from graduation, my main priority at the time). An outdoor party...which began with me falling into a hole at the horse arena that was on the property. Well, let me re-state that. My right leg fell into said hole. However, I was able to retain my beer, only spilling a bit, to which I thought was a spectacular accomplishment. Even though I was in a lot of pain, no way was I about to miss out on a great party. The night ended with me hobbling into bed, drunk as a skunk, sore as hell, but delighted over the adventures of my evening.

Back to my journal entry. As I wrote, I recall saying how "uncool" parents were and that, when I became a parent, I would be "cool". Totally cool. I would let my daughter go to parties without adult supervision. I would let her swear. I would let her smoke weed. I would let her drink. Hell, in my 18 year old mind, I was intent on drinking and smoking with her.

I have no children, but I know if I did, I would certainly not be "cool". At least not until my child were 30. Maybe 40.

Sometimes when I journal, a string of words come to me in the form of a poem you could say. Rarely do these creations rhyme nor do they follow any particular rule. Sometimes they come out of the blue as this one did. Here's something I wrote a few weeks ago at midnight (yes, I date and time my journal entries). It's rather dark, but, well, that's me at times.

i wonder
lots of things...
is despair
a temporary hole
or merely
a forever battle...
the human condition
to the prison
of the mind
and attempted
of the system
convincing us
of some lie
of powerlessness...
they, the saviors
we the cattle
seeking their refuge...
refuge, really
being a
pit of sand
from which
we will never
lest we step out
of its sinking grasps
of lying arms.

I'm sure by now most of you have heard of Sandra Cantu, the little girl who was murdered by the 20 something woman and mother in Tracy, California in a way that, to this day, I cannot stomach hearing about or processing. Sometimes I write songs to help me deal with such things...those times when my mind simply cannot wrap itself around some human-caused/created event. I originally had the idea to write a song for Sandra yesterday when I was sitting at my piano, playing some covers and some of my own compositions. The melody came to me first. It is light in a childlike way and flowing yet with an air of somberness to it (by use of a minor chord in a couple of spots), so I knew I wanted the words to be mostly innocent yet with some of the reality of her death tied in, ultimately having it be about her life force still shining brightly, still aware, still very much alive. Below is what came to me. It's simple, really, but it fits the melody (which some day blogger will allow for us to post audio files so I can include the music as well). It isn't finished yet, still need one more verse, and I am not satisfied with the rainbow reference, but until I have something else, it stays put.

She was a little girl, laughing.
She was a little girl at play.
Until that fateful day.
Until that fateful day.

Trusting as she,
as any girl should be.
But sometimes such things
are not seen.

Life brings to us
moments so dark
making us wonder why.

And yet I look at that rainbow
and what do I see
I see that little girl
smiling back at me.


Challenging The Conspiracy Theory Nay-Sayers

There are some sites that love to list conspiracy theories and rather than intelligently discuss the issue, rather than bring up facts and information to support their pov, they merely toss around labels such as "wacky" and "conspiracy nut". Here are a few of the supposed wacky conspiracy theories I saw presented tonight on an online search as well as my thoughts on the topic:

1) Reptilian beings are having an influence on our planet.

Apparently folks who can't quite wrap their minds around this concept have not seen the countless ancient cave drawings and symbols, statues and the like around the world that show, beyond a doubt, that reptilian beings have been a part of our lives as humans going back thousands of years. Folks who claim reptile's and other "alien" beings have been interbreeding with the population at large may be on to something as well. Considering 95% of our DNA is of unknown function (most genetists calling it "junk" while some refer to it as "alien") and considering the unusual leap we made in our evolution, plus considering the thousands of stories people have shared about alien abduction and the experimentation that was the result, one really must stop and consider the possibility of this "intervention" instead of dismissing it altogether as some wacky conspirary theory.

2) 9/11 was an inside job or allowed to happen.

Well, given there have been groups of pilots, engineers and physicists who have said the government's version of what happened that fateful day is scientifically unsound and given those towers fell in the exact same way as does a building under controlled demolition and given the cameras at the pentagon were seized only to be released years later yet only showing a split second of the impact of the supposed commercial jet airliner (which is not visible in the released video which makes one wonder why on earth would such a thing not be allowed to be viewed by the public when those 2 planes hitting the twin towers were shown repeatedly) and given Osama was first named chief suspect and given that was later ditched so we could go after Iraq instead and given the FBI doesn't even list Osama as wanted in connection for 9/11 and given the memo's warning of a planned attack by al qaeda whereby planes would be used to fly into buildings and given the passports of two of the hijackers were found in all that rubble and given the passage of the patriot act, a 3500 page document, was passed just weeks later....

3) There is no alien craft at Roswell New Mexico.

If there isn't, why not open it up for the public to see? Why is there interview after interview of folks, ordinary folks and former military personnel, who saw the craft, and/or saw the crash, and/or saw the alien being, many whom were told "talk and you will be disposed of". Why isn't the public allowed to tour this government facility? Why the need to guard it so heavily? Here's a little tidbit for the doubters: When the government wants to cover up something, it's highly likely those doing the questioning and are being dismissed/ignored are likely exposing some or all of the information the government is trying to keep under cover.

U.S. Manufacturer's Drugging The Public


"U.S. manufacturers, including major drugmakers, have legally released at least 271 million pounds of pharmaceuticals into waterways that often provide drinking water — contamination the federal government has consistently overlooked, according to an Associated Press investigation....The data don't show precisely how much of the 271 million pounds comes from drugmakers versus other manufacturers; also, the figure is a massive undercount because of the limited federal government tracking. To date, drugmakers have dismissed the suggestion that their manufacturing contributes significantly to what's being found in water. Federal drug and water regulators agree."

Well of course they do.

I spoke with a representative from one of our local water plants through the Public Works Department and asked about this issue. I asked him what sort of testing was being done on our water supply. At this time, none. According to what he knows (or the PTB who have told him), there is no viable test currently available. What they have is not that reliable (which seems to conflict with the above referenced story). He said current testing is based on 1 part per trillion and detection of pharmaceuticals is at 1 part per billion. (I'm not a chemist but if that's the case, why don't they just start testing at 1 part per billion?) And even if such testing were viable, there is no current technology available to remove such substances (again, according to what he knows). He said the concern isn't in the drugs themselves individually, but in the combination of drugs. I pointed out both should be of concern considering the issue of long-term use even in small quantities of one drug can have profound effects on the human body.

He mentioned a report from the DEQ & EPA was forthcoming for our state. They have tested for pharmaceutical's in 12 of our river's.

This begs a couple of questions. One, if such testing isn't viable, why was it done? And two, if other government agencies and cities can and do test for pharmaceuticals in water (certainly according to a google search), why can't our local city folks test?

Maybe a better question is, why won't they?

Of course we can't just blame industry for dumping the drugs. We only need to look in the mirror and think of those occasions where we have tossed old pharmaceutical's down the drain and toilet.

Currently there's a bill in the state legislature that encourages consumers to return those leftover pills. Senate Bill 598, the Pharmaceutical Take Back Bill, will require the makers of pharmaceutical drugs to maintain a program for consumers to return unused prescription drugs.

Of course that sounds like Big Brother finding out our medical information so unless it's an anonymous program, that could open up a whole new can of worms.


Mid Life Job Crisis Raging Rant

There's no humor in this post. No little bits of sarcasm either. I'm royally fucking pissed the farm fuck off. I am a 40 something out of work female who has been asking herself the question, since getting laid off last year, "What do I do with my life now?" I cannot put into words how tired my brain is from trying to think myself out of this situation. To answer that one god damn question.

I've had plenty of ideas that I've pursued. One was to become a mediator. I found an online school offering such an instructional program at a very doable and reasonable cost. However, after speaking with several folks who are certified mediator's, I was told no one does mediation for a living unless they're already a lawyer or counselor. Those without the law and counseling degrees simply offer their services for free through community mediation centers. I asked one woman "So you're telling me if I were to become certified, I would likely have to donate my time given I lack these other advanced degrees?" Yep. "You're kidding me? Why would I do that?" Why because it's very rewarding.


My most recent idea was to study to become a barber and cut men's hair out of my home on a part-time basis. Had lots of people tell me gotta look into working for yourself. Find a trade people will need and go from there. There's a local facility to get trained. The cost? Oh, only $10000-$15000. I have a degree which means Uncle Sam won't give me any grants. You know, the free kind of money. That means loans for someone in my position. No way in hell am I going to go into that kind of debt at my age only to graduate and make $10-$15 per haircut. I have tendonitis after playing the piano since I was a toddler so I could only do such work part-time. Honestly, I had no clue it was so expensive to learn how to CUT HAIR.

I've put up flyers for picking up dog poop. For a variety of writing and editing services. For songwriting services. For basic household chores. For tarot card and talking board readings. I've applied for countless writing positions. Oh sure, there are lots of online publications who would LOVE for me to write for them for free. Already blogged about that. Been there, done that. Ain't doing it anymore.

I've looked into getting myself recorded and selling my music on my own. All of that of course costs money that I don't have.

Fucking everything costs money. I am so god damn sick of this little "reality" of life. I'm sick of being told to suck it up and accept it. Grow up. Accept life as it is.

That simply is not in my character anymore to "suck it up". I've been doing that for over 30 years. Those days of faking it are over.

I got off track.

I guess this all comes down to money. And those nagging questions. What are you going to DO with your life? How are you going to make money?

I don't fucking know anymore. Prostitute myself??? Line myself up with some big time drug lord and take a chance on that one big deal??? Rob from the rich to give to the poor???

I mean seriously, I am so god damn fed up with this damn issue I have moments where I want to just go out and do whatever it fucking takes to make a large sum of cash, throw it in the face of every greedy bastard and idiot who supports the monetary based system and say "THERE! Will that suffice you for now you fucking jack ass??!!"

Until such time, I pray. A lot. Not that this has done me an ounce of good for it seems with every idea that seems to come to me from "out of the blue", none have yet proven to be worthwhile.

Along those lines, I have a host of bumper sticker slogans (that would be idea #4,582). Anyone know of someone who is in the business and would like to invest in my ideas, let me know. I also have some recipes for homemade canned dog foods I've considered selling (idea #4,355). And I also have a unique design for a make-up palette for mineral make-up (idea #4298). Again, anyone know of anyone with the $$ to help fund such ideas, let me know!


Puking It All Out

A friend of mine and I have this saying. When one of us has felt the need to vent, the other says "puke it out". I did just that this morning. Literally. From 6am on I was praising the porcelain goddess and waste basket when the trip to the bathroom just wasn't gonna work.

It felt like a metaphoric purge. This wasn't some little stomach virus or the result of eating spicy food. One or both may have triggered it, but certainly neither was the cause. Nope. The cause of this was pent up frustration. Not only was my stomach on fire, but my skin, my pores seemed to burn with anger and pain. Now of course no one likes to puke, least of all me and given I can count on one hand the number of times I've had this little experience, today was a first.

As I hugged the waste can in bed, inside I screamed. I cried. No more, I kept saying to myself. No more. No more news about war, the economy, job loss, foreclosures. No more stupid things being done to one another and to our planet. No more lies. No more labels. No more finger-pointing. No more talk about trying to save this pathetic, lame, archaic, totally UNFAIR and UNJUST economic system. No more talk about money. No more thinking about money. No more competition. No more of this pressure to PRODUCE PRODUCE PRODUCE PROVE PROVE PROVE WORK WORK WORK DO DO DO. No more of this pressure to BE someone by DOING. No more of having to prove yourself worthy to get x y or z. No more of the religious crap whose primary purpose serves to further divide, giving a select group a certain arrogance/I-am-better-than-you whilst wearing the "Because That's What The Bible Says" crown. That same arrogance being found in the political parties, in those who place importance on lame job titles, incomes, fat cat portfolios and the size of their fucking homes. It can be found in those who are mass consumers and those who live off the grid (surprisingly, saw that example tonight).

No more of this bullshit mantra out in the world and in my mind that tells me--that tells us--I am not good enough, I am worthless, I am lazy, I am a no one, I am stupid, I am naive (if you're on the fringe in any way, if you grew up with church talk, if you grew up molded by the public school system, if you grew up around ANY typical western thinking individuals you carry at least one of these lying mindsets).

I pounded on that waste can. My body hurled as I clutched the sides. I trembled.

I heard the words of my friend. "Puke it out. Puke it out."


And then it stopped. My stomach settled down. The voice of pain in my head did the same.

Behind all of this release was the voice of a very very tired, weary soul who could only muster up a small whisper: It doesn't have to be this way.

It doesn't have to be this way.


Paranormal Experience: Guardian Angel/Spirit Guide

I decided to write about an experience I had when I was 19...

I was driving home one cold, rainy November evening with a couple of friends after a night out on the town. I had taken this trip home many times and as such, I had established a routine on which lane I used. At the time, I was driving South in my normal lane--left hand lane on a four-lane road (two lanes going north, two going south). As I drove along, my girlfriends and I were chatting it up. At the time, I heard a voice off to my left say quietly but firmly: "Get right." Now eventually I would "get right" but only after I had driven another 2 miles or so. For some reason, I obeyed, likely because being I was having a good time with my girlfriends, I didn't make the conscious effort to question the voice.

And so I "Got right".

Well, thank the guides in the otherworld's that I did for no more than 6 blocks later was I involved in a terrible 3-car accident. Some drunk, driving a stolen car (car number 1) no less, who was coming the opposite way (headed north), decided to run a left-hand turn signal. As such, he slammed into the car (car number 2) that had been behind me when I decided to "get right" and as a result, went on ahead of me. Car number 2 then slammed into my left front bumper. Thankfully I acted quickly and steered the car to the right, avoiding even further damage.

I went into shock immediately. I had stopped the car and one of my girlfriends kept asking "Is everyone ok? Are you ok? Is everyone ok?" Thankfully we all escaped harm. My other girlfriend had already jumped out of the car and, as I would later learn, was chasing after the passenger of the vehicle who had caused the accident (car #1). She was quite the "kick ass" type. I always loved her for that.

I remember getting out of the car, seeing the damage and immediately wanting to kill whoever had hit me. You see, I had just been in an accident less than 30 days prior. I had been hit by a drunk driver (yes, another one). Rear-ended. I had just gotten my car back approximately 10 days previous. And now some other son-of-a-bitch had hit me yet again? What in the hell was going on? I recall thinking. And if that wasn't bad enough, as a child I had been involved in 3 additional accidents while my dad was driving (all minor, no injury) and for a time would not go near a car without screaming. I put off getting my license as a teenager for reasons I couldn't understand. I wanted to drive but something kept telling me driving was dangerous. I would get hurt. I finally got my license, overcoming a great deal of anxiety. And now, less than 2 years later, this happened.

I became a woman on a mission. Kill the son-of-a-bitch who had hit my car. Given I was in shock, I assumed car number two was at fault. It was driven by a young woman, a few years older than I was. I remember seeing her standing by her car. She had been driving a 4-door pinto wagon (which coincidentally enough the previous accident I had just been in, I had ALSO been hit by a pinto, this time the two-door variety). Her front in was completely munched up terribly. She seemed ok, standing there.

So I walk over to her and began yelling at her. "You hit my car! You hit my car! I'm going to KILL you!" And I really did walk over to her with my hands out, which I was going to put on her throat. I tell you, I have never lost control of myself like that. It was both frightening and envigorating. The look on this young woman's face was one of horror.

Well, thank goodness my girlfriend (not the one chasing after the passenger of the actual vehicle at fault--she was still trying to find him) was watching what I was doing. She started calling my name, running to me. I remember she grabbed me by the shoulders, spun me around and made me look at her:

"Nina!" she yelled. "Nina, LOOK AT ME! SHE did not cause the accident, ok? She's not at fault. THAT guy [pointing off to my right at some guy bent over some unknown vehicle] is the one who hit HER. She then hit YOU."

Slowly it dawned on me. I started to come out of my initial shock. I then looked at her and apologized profusely. I explained about my previous accident, how it had been a pinto too. Thank god she was the forgiving type. I remember going over to her, both fo us hugging one another. And then I looked towards the direction my friend had just pointed me in, to the guy who was at fault. He was being held down on the hood of some good samaritan's car by a big burly man in his 40's. Apparently this wonderful man had seen the whole thing and had seen the driver and passenger attempting to flee the scene. While my one friend went after the passenger (whom ended up getting away), this awesome hero went after the driver.

So I walk over to this prick. "You caused all of this?" I asked.

He wouldn't look at me. I noticed a wine bottle lay near his foot.

"You son of a bitch have you been drinking?" I yelled. He wouldn't respond. He just kept looking down on the hood. I just shook my head and thanked the man, but he didn't seem to have any other purpose but to hold down this driver until the police came. I remember him simply holding down the driver and looking around as if saying "this is my job leave me alone".

The police arrived at this point. One of the officer's came over to speak with me, get my statement, etc. We walked back over to my car and looked at it. It was still drivable. I told him about the voice I heard that told me to "get right". I said if I hadn't, I would have been where the other woman was, the one in the pinto wagon. I would have been the first car hit.

The officer looked at the little front end of my car (1976 Honda Civic) and at the long front end of the pinto wagon, which as I said had crumpled up like an accordian. I'll never forget what he said:

"It's a good thing you listened to the voice. If you hadn't, you and I probably wouldn't be talking like this."

Well, at that, I went back into some place of shock. I kind of swooned, falling into the officer. He held me up, opened up my car door and gently placed me inside. I don't recall what he said, if anything at all. I do remember crying, just overcome with emotion. I also remember I had a gray, rough wool blanket suddenly wrapped around my shoulder's. I guess the officer gave me that. I don't remember.

Eventually, things got cleaned up. The driver was arrested and charged with DUI and hit and run. The passenger was never found. I ended up driving the young woman home given her car was not drivable. She was headed in the same direction as I was. My car was drivable, despite the banged up left front end. I probably should not have driven given the state of mind I was in. I don't remember much of the drive home.

What awaited me at home was almost as bad as the accident. I went straight home after dropping the woman off, taking my girlfriends with me. I thought I might need some back-up.

I was right.

My parents always had the tendancy to question me, not believe me. They still do. I have never understood why. The only time I ever boldly lied to them was when I snuck a piece of chocolate cake when I was a child and when I told them "Yes I tried pot but I didn't like it". Other than that, when asked something, I told the truth. Anyway so I arrive home, wanting nothing more than having them hold me, ask if I was ok and tell me everything would be allright. Naturally given it was late they were asleep. I walked into their bedroom and said "Mom and dad, I need to tell you something."

And so I told them.

Instead of asking how the car was, and not even asking how I was, I was given the silent treatment for a few moments before the grilling began.

"But you just got into an accident less than a month ago! And you also said that one wasn't your fault as well." (Apparently the police report and witness statements didn't relieve any of their apparent doubts I was now seeing they had.)

My mom looked at me and said: "You can't expect us to believe you aren't doing something to cause these accidents."

I thought back to the accidents I was in as a child, each time my dad was driving. Each time, someone else had hit him. I don't recall any grilling of my father at the time. Now I was getting this bullshit treatment?

I looked at my mother and said: "Not that you've asked but I am ok. In fact, if I hadn't acted in the way I did, I could have been seriously injured or killed mom, ok?"

She scoffed at the ridiculous notion of that. Ah, that was and is my mother. Completely incapable of dealing with anything outside of her donna reed "everything is fine la la la" fantasy land. So, I did what I should have done a long time previously. I told both she and my father they were both "fucked" in the head and left.

"Where are you going?" they both yelled after me.

"Anywhere but here!" I yelled back.

Aside from that exchange, about the only thing that was discussed in the day that followed was the obvious transportation issue I now faced. Given my car was going to be out of commission for a week or so to get repaired (by our own insurance given the driver who was responsible had no insurance aside from being drunk and driving a stolen car), I needed to borrow one of their cars so I could get to work and college. That all got worked out and nothing was ever said about it again.

A very common experience in my family. I faced something scary, difficult, emotional and I would usually get blamed for whatever it was. I would then either keep my thoughts to myself or I would blow a fuse, telling them how I really felt while ignoring their attempts to tell me I was wrong, and nothing was ever said about the situation again.

Writing this only validates why I don't spend much time with them as an adult as some things simply never change. And it's too bad for they don't really know me. And I, them. I've certainly tried, but those days are over. Today, I am grateful in knowing that, no matter how alone and lost I have felt in this world for most of my life, I do have some guide, some intelligent being in some other dimension who, at least on that cold, rainy November evening, was looking out for me.


Saturday Musings

Lots to say today.

It was--is--a beauuuuutiful day today. The first real indication of Spring. The sun was out. Lawn was mowed. Planters and pots cleaned out and, looking too empty against the backdrop of sunshine and freshly cut grass, soon was filled, after a quick trip to the nursery, with pansies, daisies, snap dragon's and other annual's. Afterwards we sat in the sun, watching our puppy dog play with her ball. Tomorrow the bbq comes out of hiding. Next week, we get to work preparing and deciding what kind of a food garden to put in. I am happy to report our lettuce survived the winter. While it didn't really grow, it survived in pots snugged up against the house, so back in the sun it has gone in the hopes it will start to produce. I snacked on a few of the leaves. Nothing like fresh food.

I read through the Portland Alliance, a magazine I had never read before until last week, when I was compelled to pick up a copy. Well, that seemed to be one of those "meant-to-be" moments for right there inside those pages was a man after my own heart and soul and the heart's and soul's of other like-minded folks who have been questioning our monetary-based system and how to design one so that the standard of living for ALL of us will be raised, using machines and technology to provide for such a lifestyle, where the basic fundamental worth and value of all human people are recognized and embraced by all, and where basic rights such as including food, shelter, education and health care, are provided for all. A society where money ain't included in the final picture.

Naturally, I was OVERJOYED to read his words and to know there are ever increasing movement's to establish such a world society. He even mentioned The Venus Project as one such movement. I blogged about that earlier this year. The author of the article, William Daniels, studied the works of a man named Buckminster Fuller. I will be doing the same. There are a lot of new ideas for my mind to embrace, which I know it will. However, wrapping my brain around those ideas will be the challenge. It gives me hope in knowing there are like-minded people all over the globe who believe our planet has the capacity to provide all that we each need, that money need not be the center or even part of it. I'm certainly growing weary of people who talk about the need to reduce the population. Some say by as much as 60% or more. I know to the very core of who I am that THIS IS NOT NECESSARY. It's just a scare tactic meant to keep the basic systems of capitalism/socialism/communism and other unsustainable systems going. Using responsible agricultural and business practices (which are not being employed except for the minority) is at the center of creating such a system.

Along those lines of coincidence and our common connectedness, I had a bit of an experience last weekend in the form of a dream. I was in a grassy field in Oregon, hiding from a sexual predator (white male, 30's, thin build, light brown hair cut in kind of a bi-level). I saw two girls walk by, one about 8, the other around 12 and tried to warn them to stay away from the man. Both were hispanic. The older one was big boned and had very long straight hair. Given I had seen the story about the young girl from California who had gone missing earlier in the week, perhaps I had just brought that into my dream. However, I was not sure who this older, second girl was. I was also unsure as to why I was in Oregon if the (younger) girl was last seen in California. I blew it off as a random event, possibly a friend of the younger girl, that is until a couple of nights ago. While visiting our local co-op, I saw a flyer on their board about a missing 13-year-old hispanic girl from the Oregon coast. She looked very similar to the girl in my dream, enough so that it stunned me for a moment and gave me a chill. I don't know if it's coincidence or not, but I've had enough dreams like this that have later proven to be accurate.

Speaking of, it was my original experience of seeing Laci Peterson in my living room (different house from where we currently live) at 3am to validate the dream I had of her death that sparked an intense fear of the dark, which has only served to royally piss me off given that was one thing I never feared--the dark. At all. It's an odd thing though because I don't feel it every night. There are some nights I am lying in bed, the only one in the house still awake, and I am calm, feeling fine. And yet the next night, I can be almost paralyzed by fear because I think I feel a presence in the living room that wishes to speak with me. Once I turn on a light, the fear vanishes. However, I can be standing in the same place, turn out the light, and I am fighting intense panic. I especially feel creeped out when I am walking away from the living room--as though I feel more vulnerable with my back turned away from whatever may (or may not) be there. Kind of like a child running from the doorway to leap into his bed to avoid that monster that may reach out and grab him from under his bed. I am so embarassed by this but I am so ready to be done with it.

I just don't know how to heal from this one. I do the protection intentions. I've tried facing the fear--taking little steps into the living room, one at a time. I've tried making myself simply sit still in the dark for an extended period of time, especially after I know my spouse and dog are asleep and in another conscious realm. I tell myself I CAN DO THIS I AM CALM. I say things like "I am safe. I am protected." Nothing so far has worked. It's like a huge ball of energy needing to explode. Maybe it's unprocessed terror. I know I was certainly in a complete state of panic and terror when I saw Laci sitting there in our recliner, dripping wet, smiling hugely, sending me a telepathic "Hello! Here I am!". I was so frightened, I couldn't move for a few moments. Given I know I have some sort of ability to communicate with the spirit realm, I really want to "get over" this. One of my desires has been for quite some time to listen to the needs of those who have gone on and relay any messages to their families. And yet, how can I do that with this fear? I can't.

If any of you have any ideas or suggestions of help of any kind, please share them. I've thought about contacting some of the paranormal psychic people I've seen on television but I know they'd charge me quite the fee and, well, my financial status says poverty. Maybe they'd let me bake them some of my magical nut brownies.

I spent a bit of time last night organizing some of my recorded musical files. One of my other fav things is to write music. I have an idea of what to do next with all of these songs I have. I belong to a songwriter's e-mail group (since it's inception in 1998) and read of an independent A & R biz that helps put songwriter's in touch with publisher's, etc. They're rated as being very professional and trustworthy. A rarety in the biz. There's a growing trend of people in the music business who wish to see ALL making a living wage at their art instead of having a couple hundred making hundred's of millions. As long as cash is king, I think it's a beautiful concept. A world where you get to "do" what you naturally love. Contribute it. Have all your needs provided for. Period.

The needs of humanity first. Life no longer being about struggle and survival of the fittest and other archaic, caveperson mentalities. You and I together in the same boat. Same side.

Today I feel hopeful knowing there are others out there thinking the same thoughts and are working to create it all. More hopeful than I have in awhile.


Israel and Palestine: The Truth

Written a few months ago, a very relevant, to-the-point perspective of what's going on between Israel and Palestine, a bit of history, some hard-nosed, pointed questions and what the agenda is believed to be. Certainly one thing more than any other has continued to just, well, baffle my mind and that is the number of people who really believe Israel is the chosen land, and the people of Israel, god's chosen people and as such, support for them, even in the midst of their continual attack on innocent civilians, is unwaivering. I mean seriously, this is a completely deeply insane belief. It's not the belief of one who is truly centered in their own mind/body/soul. It is not the belief of one who has done ANY REAL thoughtful contemplation ON THEIR OWN. It's a forced dogmatic thought pattern that borders on psychopathic. The Universal Creator plays favorites? I mean come on now. Favortism? Simply based on location?

Hmm. Ok, fine. Let's play this one out then. Most Christian and Christian-related religions do not believe that we pick our parents nor do they believe we as souls have any choice in what family we are born into. God makes that decision. Taking that further then, a soul born into a family residing in Israel suddenly becomes chosen while the rest of us, well, too damn bad, especially if you happen to be born into a Palestinian family. Ya shoulda tried making an offering to God to be born elsewhere. I hear God likes a good nut brownie.

Onto the next observation. What happens when an Israeli dies? Their physical body dies, therefore their blood, their cells, their lineage, everything that makes them an Israeli citizen is no longer functioning which therefore leads to the obvious conclusion that they are pure energy just like every other being.

I know this. Having gotten to know a family who left Palestine a few years and are (against my pleas) considering a return, having heard their first hand accounts of just some of what these folks experienced (and they weren't even in the most violent area), how they have been forced off their land to the deplorable and frightening daily living conditions they all, as they said "just get used to", if I am ever to encounter, in person, anyone who claims Israel is "it" and the people of Israel, "it" and "chosen", who show unwaivering support for Israel, I am going to drag his or her ass to meet this family and make him or her listen to this family's story and then, ask again, how "it" and "chosen" they believe Israel to be and if it is truly ok for any Israeli to take the life of any of the people in this family. Children included. Land, too. Food. Water.

Like many who speak as I, the term "anti-semitic" is given. In our ever-growing politically correct world, lunacy has replaced thoughtfulness. Reminder: Freedom of expression does not mean being free from disagreeing or being offended. We are creating a world where being offended by someone else's opinions is enough to give out a call for censorship. "They're racist! They're sexist!" Whatever. As long as people aren't actually harming others by threats of violence, physical harm and the like, aren't harassing or denying one a job, a home, an education, etc. then let people have their opinion. And hey, I get pissed off at people who think such things as "women who sleep around are sluts" and "black men are criminals" and "white men are pigs" and the like, and while at the moment of my being angry I may want to slap duct tape on their mouth and haul them off to some land dedicated solely to those of their shared thoughts, I can use my own mind and inner workings to calm myself and realize they're just spewing man-made dialogue and that if I truly believe in Freedom, I support their right to think what they think and speak what they think.

It's so silly, don't you think? Silly, sad. Brutal. Destructive. For in the midst of all of the black and white thinking and religious myth and interpretation, people are suffering and dying. Children are losing parents, parents, their children. And all for what? Simply because a group of people (of both Jewish and non-Jewish origin--certainly not ALL Jewish people support what's going on) use the guise of THIS IS TRUTH AS SPOKEN BY GOD (when in reality it's Old Testament speak--think Jesus would ever take sides in this massacre??), backed with fear to incite a vulnerable, searching and weak-in-the-mind citizen to support an agenda of control and rule while rendering a class of people as unworthy simply due to what family they were born into.

If you don't find this insane, then you're part OF the insanity. But you don't have to be. Spend a month away from the television, from the church, from your bible, from like-minded friends. Get to know yourself by simply being WITH yourself. And then ask yourself this simple question: Is it ever ok to kill another human being who has never threatened or attempted to kill you? (And for the record, Hamas' killing of Israeli citizens is just as wrong, although the circumstances are different.) Listen to your heart, your center, for that is where the truth resides. Forget the words your brain sends you. The brain is limited. But the soul, that is the container of truth. And it is at the center of our bodies that the soul, our truth, most reveals itself.

Jailed For Being Poor?

There's more to the story than the headline of course, but essentially, yes, a Michigan woman and mother, who had lost her job and home and was in all ways destitute aside from a meager income working part-time for a friend, was unable to pay for her son's stay in a court-ordered juvenile detention facility was jailed for contempt of court. If that isn't an example of black and white thinking gone to the extreme, read on as to what was also imposed on this women:

"Since March 3, 2009, Ms. Nowlin has been serving her sentence at the Delta County Jail. On March 6, 2009, she was released for one day to work. Once released she picked up her $178.53 check from work thinking that she now could pay the $104.00 to get out of jail. However, upon her return to jail that evening, the sheriff forced her to sign over her check to the jail to cover $120.00 for “room and board.” She was also charged $22 for a drug test and the booking fee."

Ms. Nowlin was finally released on March 30th. Read here for the full story.

What's In That Vaccine?

Read this then ask yourself if you would want any of these added byproducts injected into yourself or your child. Or animal for that matter. (I recently requested our vet to stop inquiring about vaccinations for our dog, asking the technician to put in our file "does not vaccinate".)

Depopulation Trend?

With all of the disturbing talk from government's and ecology groups about the need to drastically reduce population, there seems to be a blatant dismissal (hmm) of what's really going on: declining fertility rates around the globe. Read this interesting piece fmi.