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Archive for March, 2011

Beware The Ides of March

Posted in History, Hopeful thoughts, Nature, News, World politics, tagged , , , on March 15, 2011| 15 Comments »

On his way to the Theatre of Pompey (where he would be assassinated), Caesar saw a seer who had foretold that harm would come to him not later than the Ides of March. Caesar joked, “Well, the Ides of March have come”, to which the seer replied “Ay, they have come, but they are not gone.”

Well, we know how that turned out …

(And if somehow you don’t, read some history, or some Shakespeare and get with the program.)

Caesar:
Who is it in the press that calls on me?
I hear a tongue shriller than all the music
Cry “Caesar!” Speak, Caesar is turn’d to hear.

Soothsayer:
Beware the ides of March.

Caesar:
What man is that?

Brutus:
A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

Yes, today is the Ides of March … the 15th … and given all going on, a bit of bewaring sounds like a plan.

Between recent revelations on personal betrayals and news updates from the wider world, I’m reeling, and suggesting those with an option to spend a day under the covers with a diverting novel should bloody well do exactly that.

While there, some counting of blessings might happen, too, since if you have covers to hide under you’re better off than thousands of others today. Sometimes it is all about perspective.

Anyone whose Ides do NOT include impending assassination, mass destruction, incoming artillery, hourly earthquakes and a forced hunt for food, water, shelter and loved ones should actually be feeling pretty fucking lucky about now.

Of course, that’s no need to push it. What happens next is anybody’s guess, and assuming you’re cool because you don’t happen to be in Japan or Libya or Ivory Coast or Bahrain … pick a mess, any mess … could be an assumption based on quicksand.

It is crystal clear today that we could all easily be within hours of anything from getting hit by a bus to a nuclear event with global consequences, and as depressing as that though may be, it should also set the wake-up call bell ringing.

What we have is what we have, and when we have it is now. If it sucks, we deal with it it. If it’s great, we damned well should appreciate and enjoy.

Spending the little time we have on the Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda cha-cha-cha of the past while hoping for the Tomorrow Tango to start very possibly could be last thing we do.

Yes, the Ides of March have come, and those of us still standing can and should take comfort, but as the seer said, “Ay, they have come, but they are not gone.”

It ain’t over ’til it’s over.

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The Queen’s Men … (humpty!)

Posted in England, History, Men, News, Older women, Religion, Sex, Younger men, tagged , , on March 14, 2011| 19 Comments »

Victoria's "Gift"

On yet another day that sees the news filled with horror stories and images of destruction, I hunt for a bit of diversion from the real-life world that shakes and screams and hurts and hates, something to let my head go in directions necessary to make progress on present work. In other words, to lift the clouds of gloom and feel the sunshine with little nagging guilt over just how bloody easy I have it at the moment.

History can provide quite the perspective, so finding this story on Queen Victoria’s much younger man has caused quite the reroute in thinking on world reports through the mirror of time and more than a little sweetness.

Mr Karim was just 24 when he arrived in England from Agra to wait at table during Queen Victoria’s golden jubilee in 1887 – four years after Mr Brown’s death. He was given to her as a “gift from India”.

Within a year, the young Muslim was established as a powerful figure in court, becoming the queen’s teacher – or munshi – and instructing her in Urdu and Indian affairs.

Mr Karim was to have a profound influence on Queen Victoria’s life – like Mr Brown becoming one of her closest confidants – but unlike him, was promoted well beyond servant status.

“In letters to him over the years between his arrival in the UK and her death in 1901, the queen signed letters to him as ‘your loving mother’ and ‘your closest friend’,” author Shrabani Basu told the BBC.

“On some occasions, she even signed off her letters with a flurry of kisses – a highly unusual thing to do at that time.

“It was unquestionably a passionate relationship – a relationship which I think operated on many different layers in addition to the mother-and-son ties between a young Indian man and a woman who at the time was over 60 years old.”

Ah, the advantages being Empress brings a girl, heh? (And just in case anyone is wondering what to get me for my birthday in July, such a “gift from India” would not be scorned!)

Apparently, Karim was not on the Top Ten list with the rest of the clan, as he was given the royal boot out the palace doors within just a few hours of Victoria’s funeral, but although attempts were made to wipe the castle clean of all reference to him he had spent ten years with the woman, and he did keep diaries.

Those diaries are on their way to becoming a book, and a fascinating read it’s bound to be. Not only do we have that cougar thing going, but the fact that the Supreme Governor of the Church of England was taking daily advice from a Muslim back in the days India was still part of the Empire is very interesting.

No doubt, Victoria was one smart monarchial cookie, as under Karim’s tutelage she learned to speak, read and write both Urdu and Hindi, and I enjoy imagining the range and depth of conversations they conducted as they shared days, traveled the world and passed time in her remote highland cottage in Scotland.

He was, of course, not the first younger man the “Widow of Windsor” had a thing for, the Scotsman, John Brown, having been her “personal servant” from shortly after Prince Albert’s death until the time of his.

Victoria’s children and ministers resented the high regard she had for Brown, and, inevitably, stories circulated that there was something improper about their relationship. The Queen’s daughters joked that Brown was “Mama’s Lover,” while Edward Stanley, 15th Earl of Derby wrote in his diary that Brown and Victoria slept in adjoining rooms “contrary to etiquette and even decency.”

Well, what the hell? If you’re the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and Empress of India, you’re going to pay attention to what others have to say about where your boyfriend beds down? I don’t think so … at least not in the days before tabloids and Twitter.

I’d never considered Queen Victoria a woman I’d relate well to, but seems I’ve found some commoner ground, and although I know it’s not only more than 100 years too late, but also something she would never have registered on her radar, I’d still like to say:
YOU ROCK, GIRL!

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Interesting times … ACK!

Posted in History, Hopeful thoughts, Nature, News, Seychelles, World politics, tagged , , , , , , on March 12, 2011| 13 Comments »

May You Live In Interesting TimesHappy 12th of March 2011.

Today is not a holiday that I know of, nor does it mark any specific event. Nope. It just happens to be a Saturday in Seychelles that found me thinking we’re not even a quarter of the way through the year yet, but OH! what an amazing amount of shit has already gone down.

We’re 71 days into 2011 … SEVENTY-ONE DAYS … and already the world has been burning and flooding and rocking and rolling and … well, you know.

Should we be surprised when the first 12 days brought at least:

* Earthquake magnitude 6.9 Argentina-January 1

* Earthquake magnitude 5.2 – Southern XinJiang, China-January 1

* Earthquake 7.1 magnitude Chile-January 2

* More Than 1,000 Dead Birds Fall From Sky in Arkansas-January 2

* Dead fish cover 20-mile section of Arkansas River-January 2

* Uganda yellow fever outbreak kills more than 40-January 3

* Earthquake Near Japan Triggers Tsunami Warning-January 3

* Powerful earthquake hits south-east Iran-January 3

* Earthquake 7.0 magnitude hits northern Argentina-January 3

* Hundreds of dead blackbirds found in Louisiana-January 3

* 10,000s of Birds found dead in Manitoba-January 3

* Thousands of Birds fall from the sky in South America-January 3

* Major Flood in Rockhampto,Australia-January 3

* Dead Birds Found In Kentucky-January 4

* 100 tons of dead fish wash up on Brazil’s shores-January 4

* Hundreds of dead birds found in East Texas-January 5

* Dead birds in Sweden, millions of dead fish in Maryland, Brazil and New Zealand-January 5

* Shift of Earth’s magnetic north pole affects Tampa airport-January 5

* 40,000 crabs found dead on England beaches-January 6

* Heavy floods leave at least 35 dead in Brazil-January 6

* Earthquake 4.5 magnitude in California-January 12

* Huge Waves Destroy Homes in E. Indonesia-January 12

Since then we’ve had floods and fires in Australia and the Middle-Atlantic states of America, monster snow storms in the US and Europe, and far too many earthquakes, including the February devastation in New Zealand and what’s happening right now in Japan.

The shaky ground in Northern Africa and the Middle East came with less warning than the tenuous quake predictions we’ve grown accustomed to, but the damage is huge and the aftershocks will continue for a long time, and although civil war in Africa is no surprise, what’s happening now in Ivory Coast is still a bit of a shocker. And, of course there’s Libya.

That it’s just now that thirty-seven priests are busted in Philadelphia for sex abuse almost figures, but adding it to the ever-growing pile of daily crap going on makes it all smell a bit worse.

Even all this is just a small piece of a much-submerged iceberg when it comes to the suffering going on in the world, and with the global media so busy covering what must be covered today, a lot of what else is going on, was going on, or will be happening soon is off the radar of most of us.

I can’t help having that assumed version of a Chinese curse come to mind:

寧為太平犬，不做亂世人

Translated commonly to go something like this:

May you live in interesting times.

(And by the way, this is thought to be one of three curses, the others being, “May you come to the attention of powerful people,” and, “May your wishes be granted.”)

Interesting times these are, and considering the fact we’re only 71 days into the year so far, my plan is to make the most of what I have, enjoy this lovely view and the ground being still beneath my feet, hope the sky doesn’t start raining dead birds and that we get through this year’s elections with nothing more going on than the usual grousing.

There are 294 days to go … so hang on with me and let’s see what happens on the rest of this ride, shall we?

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Cleaning out Lent

Posted in love, Men, Music I like, Poetry on March 11, 2011| 21 Comments »


Sisterhood

Girls! We’re tough
we’re smart, we’re strong
and even those don’t get along
should know that cheating on the sisterhood
will never do but some ass mister good
We’re women and together we can
hold the man in a firm hand
to limits that constrict his playing
And when we share the shit he’s saying
he has no choice but to confess when
all that bullshit he’s professin’
might actually achieve some traction
to those who don’t quite get his action.

Yes, Girls! We’re tough
we’re smart, we’re strong
Could give a shit about a song
composed of lies. Don’t sing along
Instead believe your sisters good
rely upon the sisterhood
and learn the answers you must find
are for the sharing … we don’t mind …
It is so right to tell what we know
and help you to avoid the blow.
You may not thank us then, or now,
preferring to be some dumb cow
who buys it all, just laps it up
but those who have drunk from that cup
know too well that taste of poison
have heard those nasty notes of noise, and
have come out the other side
still in tact, and with our pride.

Girls! We’re tough
we’re smart, we’re strong.

Sack of shit

A sack of shit
I stepped in it
It made a mess of my shoe

Gave it a toss
Said adios
And finally I’m done with you

And now a bit of music …

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Tasting Ashes

Posted in Loss, love, Men, Religion, tagged , , on March 9, 2011| 8 Comments »

It’s a gray dawn in Seychelles, appropriate for Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent.

As a child, I dreaded this day, as it usually meant an early Mass on an empty stomach in a very crowded church that more than once resulted in passing out cold as I waited in the long queue to get ashed. Of course, it also meant the giving up of something I’d deemed of great value for all of 40 days.

This year, Mass is out, as I no longer deal with those issues and canceled my subscription many years ago, so don’t need those ashes.

Oh, no. I have my own.

The taste of ash is strong in my mouth today, as I’ve been spending too much time lately learning just how thoroughly I was raked over the coals, but this has dictated my Lenten sacrifice.

Yep. I’m giving up men for Lent.

From now until Easter I will not allow a thought of romance, a flash of attraction, a longing for touch, a regret over lost love to linger for more than the instant it will takes to wipe it from my head. I will waste no time missing any man from my past nor holding hopes of future connections. I will satisfy myself by and with myself, and I will take comfort only from those whose link to maleness in my regard is either nonexistent or inconsequential.

I will expect no reward of bounty when Easter arrives, but rather hope that by then my cravings have been tamped down to the point that only the most vigorous … and deserving … blast will bring on even the slightest explosion. In other words, I hope to gain something approaching temperance.

“Temperance is moderation in the things that are good and total abstinence from the things that are foul.”
~ Frances E. Willard

I’m not saying I’ll be avoiding men, as that’s simply not a possibility in life outside a convent, and I have no intention of substituting one habit for another, and I will continue to interact with, and appreciate members of the gender … that would be those who sport a member, but I’ll be ignoring that fact … with deep respect as fellow humans. Maleness in general, however gets a complete pass.

So, with ashes on my tongue I begin a Lenten season of dedication to self combined with acts of penance and charity that will include the giving of my time to others whose ashes taste much like mine.

Yes, on a gray Ash Wednesday morning, I throw off the shackles of a much-enjoyed compulsion and look forward to 40 days of prayer and peace.

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There is a special place in hell for women who do not help other women. ~Madeleine K. Albright

Posted in History, love, Men, News, Women's rights, tagged on March 8, 2011| 22 Comments »

International Day of the WomanAll over the world, today will see observances of International Women’s Day, and being that I am an international woman I plan to observe the heck out of this 8th of March.

It’s very interesting timing … not that the 8th of March doesn’t always fall on the 8th of March, but that this one dawned with some Girl Power Squared.

Yep … today is all about “Sisterhood”, women putting aside perceived differences and bonding in ways that can wrest power from the penis-laden and put the balls more squarely in their court.

Far too often women let themselves be divided, then conquered, a tendency that not only weakens us all, but also isolates us as individuals. In isolation, our judgement may be more easily manipulated, our value downgraded, our confidence eroded; a slow and insidious process that frequently leaves us feeling powerless.

I’ve written before on the problems women have with women:

Truth be told, women don’t like women much, and trust them even less. Sure, we have girlfriends … and FFS! we do need and treasure them … but women in general? Not so much. If to men we are the sugar and spice of life, to each other we are arsenic; in controlled amounts helpful and healing, but otherwise poison.

Divide et impera, hey, Ladies? That is the result the lack of sisterhood leaves us with. Playing into the hands of men … in any old way … has done us little good as a gender, and it’s only when we make the effort to join hands and hearts and minds that we have any luck at all in climbing ladders or breaking ceilings or gaining control of such basics as our own bodies.

So, if you’re a woman today is a day to reach across divides, to offer a hand, a heart, a hug, to your sisters no matter if a divide is as narrow as a garden fence or as wide as an ocean, because if we’re not in this together, we’re screwed, and not in fun or productive ways.

I give thanks today to all the women in my life whose hands I know are always there, whose hearts are true and whose minds encourage mine to stretch beyond limits imposed when there’s not a woman around to slap them down.

And I offer my hand, my heart and my strength to any girl who could use a hug, a round of applause, my time, energy, hopes or fearlessness.

Thank you … and bring it on!!!

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Your haunting ghosts tonight …

Posted in Health, Hopeful thoughts, Island life, Loss, love, Men, My Chinese Checkered Past, On getting older, Sex, Seychelles, tagged , , , , , on March 7, 2011| 20 Comments »

I'll haunt the fuck outta you.

“The tender word forgotten, The letter you did not write, The flower you might have sent, dear, Are your haunting ghosts tonight” ~ Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

This post is not about a plea for sympathy, stirring up pre-grief or needing any bolstering, so, please, don’t react to the read with anything but the humor I intend to provoke.

The fact of anyone’s matter is that life is short, and then you die, so getting shook up about being assured that IS the future seems a silly, silly thing to do. We’d all live better if we did it as though each was our last day … the reality being each could be … and we do ourselves a disservice when we force such thoughts from our minds.

Sure, it all gets a bit busy and complicated to spend much time contemplating checking out, but letting the idea of the party continuing on without us soak in isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it helps a lot in enjoying the one we’re dancing in right now.

My biology dictates my life will not be long. My genetic code has more dashes than dots, minuses that shave minutes and hours and days and weeks and years from my tree of life, and that’s a fact I learned long ago to accept. Being rather okay with the idea that I’ll someday be dead, I’m grateful for the time I have … however long that might be.

I’ve made some really crappy lifestyle choices, often don’t eat right or get a good cardio workout nearly often enough. I have vices, am not picky about organic or GM, and have been known to have sex without a condom.

The fact that happened with “committed” partners and didn’t always provide protection brings up the other shit that has and will take a toll on my span … the effect of stress brought on by letting shitty people have power.

From the incompetent, lying peeps who are supposed to provide Internet connectivity, to the lyin’, cheatin’ scoundrels who pledged much more than that, disappointing results create huge pressures. Those who believe karma is the tit-for-tat to be expected would suggest I’ve earned the grief, and if that is the case I’ve most certainly paid off much of what debt I incurred in previous lives. (I must have been a real peach to have earned such pits!)

Today being today, I’m rather liking the idea of that haunting thing (Thanks for that, Jules!), seeing my face, a la Jacob Marly, popping up on door knockers … or someone else’s knockers … with a “Hey, asshole! Boo, fuckin’ BOO!, invading dreams (Why should YOU get any sleep, Fuckwad?), ratting pots and pans, creating havoc, breaking guitar strings mid-song over and over and over again, cutting Skype connections, hiding cell phones, giving icy-cold pinches to warm body parts … ooooh, the list goes on and on.

I could be good at this, but in the meantime I’ll enjoy the sunshine, the sound of birds, conversations with great friends and all the joyful wonders I have, and wait for an Internet connection to happen that will allow me to post this blog.

Betelgeuse! Betelgeuse! Betelgeuse!

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Them’s Healy Words …

Posted in Loss, love, Men, My Chinese Checkered Past, Poetry, Sex on March 6, 2011| 12 Comments »

To spite his face ...

Driven to Destruction

What drives a girl to suffer
the pain of being lied to
when she has the tools to buffer
and she knows the words are false?

If it’s evidence she’s wanting
… some handle on the facts …
there’s not too much trouble hunting
proof that leads to the last waltz

No man is quite so clever,
some are dumb, and that’s one fact,
And it’s really rarely ever
we’re not hep to all the schmaltz

But we stumble over “Mi amor”
and find we’ve fallen in
that deep hole without our armor
What’s with that shit impulse?

Those lyin’, cheatin’ scoundrels
pull the wool so carefully,
but we catch on to the hound’s, hell!
then ache as we convulse

So …

What drives a girl to suffer
the pain of being lied to
when she has the tools to buffer
and she knows the words are false?

Two years on a tightrope

Tensile strength’s a wondrous thing
when strung ‘tween heav’n and hell
and balancing upon a string
has often served me well

I’ve found a step in some directions
moves me toward a goal
(though a predilection for erections
leaves me less than whole … )

Scampering back a step or two
toward heaven? or toward hell?
and I’m remembering what I knew …
All lessons learned too well.

On one end, there’s my future
the other holds my past
but either end can injure
and both could be my last

I’ve walked the rope almost two years
between his needs and mine
broken promises and tears
unraveling the twine

Possible? It never was,
with this I learned to cope,
withstanding lies and all because
our world was hung on hope

The tensile strength is ebbing
the tightrope’s come undone
it’s loosed the complex webbing
keeping he and me as one

It’s snapped, that rope, and left me
hanging inches from the earth
my safety net has saved me;
still in tact and know my worth

There’ll someday be another
with the strands all forged anew
Yes, there will be other lovers
and, yes, someone will be true

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Men feeling the pain … awwwwww …

Posted in love, Men, News, Sex, Women's rights, tagged , , on March 5, 2011| 17 Comments »

Cry baby men ...Between Internet connection issues and a whole lotta personal emotional housecleaning, I’m a couple of days late on posting on the BBC story on depression in men that I find … well … amusing.

According to the headline, “Male depression ‘set to increase'” ….

Psychiatrists have warned that the number of men with depression could rise because of changes in Western society.

An article in the British Journal of Psychiatry suggests economic and social changes will erode traditional sources of male self-esteem.

The authors say men will struggle with the shift away from traditional male and female roles.

Although most of the story involves, “men’s failure to fulfill the role of breadwinner”, the idea presents that quite a few changes in society might have the effect of dragging down the mood a bit, perhaps even kicking men into the depression game in numbers that come close to equaling women sufferers.

Not being able to get what they want, when they want might have more than a few men singing the blues, and bring in the fact that more and more women are voicing THEIR wants strongly and we’ve got a whole chorus of Poor ME happening.

Please pardon my slightly bitter tone, but I’ve had a nasty taste in my mouth for the last couple of days and am in no frame of mind to go all squishy/sweet/concerned over the idea that guys might be getting close to inhabiting the same world we women have had to deal with forfuckingever.

Considering the fact that roughly twice as many woman as men suffer from depression … and that’s about 12 million in the US alone every year … it seems only right that men start hopping aboard that train too often mistaken for a light at the end of a tunnel.

Protecting fragile egos, isolating ourselves from other women, allowing manipulation out of some sense of keeping the peace, tolerating abuse, ignoring lies … all this shit can go, Girls, and if the guys can’t handle it, fuck ’em … and I do not mean that literally.

Generations of women have fallen into the trap baited with “happy ever after”, only to learn long after the routine has been established that the happy bit isn’t supposed to apply to them. And while we’re settling for so much less than what we suspect we deserve, the men have grown progressively lazier, needier, wimpier.

No wonder they’re lining up for the Prozac. Real life might actually be intruding on their worlds!

As Mental Health America points out:

Married people have a lower rate of depression than those living alone. However, unhappily married people have the highest rates of depression; happily married men have the lowest rates.

No stats on the rate of depression in the women who make those men so “happily married”. I’m guessing a lot of them are on the meds as they feed the ego monster, fix themselves up so they look pretty, provide sex on demand, raise kids, keep a tidy house, bring in paychecks, ignore cheating, and busy themselves doing whatever else it might take to keep that guy checking the “happily married” box.

Okay. There are some wonderful men out there who make terrific husbands, but those aren’t the sort to dive into the depths of depression when their self-esteem is eroded by a shifting away from traditional male/female roles. Those guys are the ones who respect their wives as fully-functioning humans, equal in all respects … and are respectful and treat the woman in their life as they would expect to be treated.

We’ve been cutting way too much slack, and it’s taken it’s toll on us, Ladies. It’s time we cut the cord … and the crap … and demanded our men be AT LEAST as strong as we are. And as good. And as caring. And as honest.

“The Strength of a Man”
by Jacqueline Marie Griffiths

The strength of a man isn’t seen in the width of his shoulders.
It’s in the width of his arms that encircle you.

The strength of a man isn’t in the deep tone of his voice.
It’s in the gentle words he whispers.

The strength of a man isn’t how many buddies he has.
It’s how good a buddy he is with his kids.

The strength of a man isn’t in how respected he is at work.
It’s in how respected he is at home.

The strength of a man isn’t in how hard he hits.
It’s in how tender he touches.

The strength of a man isn’t in the hair on his chest.
It’s in his heart, that lies within his chest.

The strength of a man isn’t how many women he’s loved.
It’s in being true to one woman.

The strength of a man isn’t in the weight he can lift.
It’s in the burdens he can carry.

Amen …

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Island Life

Posted in Expat Living, Friends, Island life, Seychelles, Uncategorized, Writing for a living on March 3, 2011| 11 Comments »

What a lovely dawn! And bloody good thing, as I’m on Day 2 of no Internet connection. Once again, beauty and BlackBerry save the day, but frustration levels are high.

Yes, I am aware my ISP is called Kokonet and that does convey an image of a company run by Gilligan, so I guess I must now assume he and the rest killed off the Professor.

One truly crazy-making aspect of life on this rock is the un-charming tendency for peeps to answer questions with what they think one wants to hear.

Yesterday, for example, I was told every hour that my connection would be restored, “in about an hour”. Not that that was ever a real possibility, but it must have been assumed the answer would please me.

It didn’t.

Professionalism often here means nothing more than one is paid for what he does, no matter how poorly they do … or don’t do … it, and when their pay is partially supplied by bills I pay for a lack of service … well, pleased I am not.

Do I phone with the request: Lie to me more, please.

Uh … nope.

If I had less work pending, I’d say fuck it and head for a beach, but I do have stacks of things needing doing, and doing online, so I’m heading to town where I will threaten testical removal in hopes that inspires some action, then finding friends with another ISP that may or may not be working in hopes of getting something accomplished.

Sheesh. If only I was Mrs. Thurston Howell the Third! I’d just pour martinis and not bother with work …

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