John Mayer...Room For Squares Bjork...Greatest Hits Beth Orton...Daybreak Coldplay...A Rush of Blood to the Head Counting Crows...Hard Candy Score for The Two Towers
and speaking of perspective, because, you know, we're gonna ...i had this fairly disturbing conversation on Christmas Day. my cousin's wife works in the health care industry. she asked me what i thought of arrestees and inmates having such "good" access to health care, ending the question with, "the employees at the hospital don't have benefits this good." her husband then adds, "what about that convicted murderer getting a heart transplant a couple of weeks ago. that's bullshit." i asked him what he thought should have happened. he replied, "let him die." i'm pretty sure that i didn't launch across the table and choke him out strictly because he's a favored cousin. i was livid. worse though, i was appalled by what he'd said.
an amusing if disturbing debate ensued. i think my family still expects me to be as reactionary, and "right wing", as some of them are. odd, since i've been a societal breach baby pretty much since birth. neither cousin could understand why i had no problem really with either of the "issues" they were complaining about. he chimed in with, "but there's people out there that can't get a heart transplant."
yeah, and?
part of the problem, i think, is that they were drawing a causality where none exists. are there people who have health care that blows? sure. are there people who have no health care at all? yup. would that suddenly change were inmates to no longer receive medical care? nope.
which brought us to the larger question, of course, and the real source of their ire. they were torqued because inmates and arrestees are getting medical care and a lot of it is very good, and probably care that the person wouldn't have otherwise been able to afford. my uncle says, "that isn't right." why not, i ask. "they're criminals. they don't deserve it." oh really. my other uncle's friend almost spit his wine out when i flatly replied, "well then why don't we just take 'em all out and shoot 'em. that solve the problem for ya?" the sad thing is, i know there's somebody out there reading this that will agree with that statement as a legitimate action. my uncle being the adorable closet fascist that he is, said that was fine with him. i told him he was living in the wrong country.
we're supposed to be a civilized society; enlightened, educated, compassionate for the common good, for our fellow man. what does that mean exactly if it stops when the compassion becomes complicated?
the Brain Stem gifted the Right Brain with two LOTR's books for Christmas, one being the official companion to The Two Towers movie. it boasted a foreward by Viggo Mortensen, he that portrays Aragorn. Mortensen, like others in the past, drew comparisons between the world that Tolkien created, and the times we humans live in. i was moved, and oddly pleased, by a metaphor he used. he spoke of even the best gardens needing watering and weeding. even the best gardens.
i'd consider the U.S. in the realm of "best" gardens, and lord knows it's got its share of weeds. and see, the thing is with weeds, they're roots are often interconnected; growing in to and around and through each other. it's not often easy to identify and completely eliminate one specific weed. some weeds have no impact on the presence of others, don't come from the same family of weeds, don't succumb to pesticides, grow for no earthly reason. is it the garden's "fault" that it has weeds, or is it merely a byproduct of the garden's existence, of nature at large? there exist flowers and trees, plants and shrubs, flora and fauna that provide aesthetic value and often medicinal use. and there are weeds. they aren't "flowers gone bad", as it were; they simply exist because they do, because a complicated net of factors are in place ensuring their growth and survival. do we destroy everything growing just to kill the weeds?
gardens are beautiful because we tend them. people are no different.
and for all you LFN fans out there that have been waiting forfrellingEVER for anything at all....here ya go. all the dren you need to know.....edited because that was one long frelling post. jeez. so follow the link.
welcome to the real world she said to me condescendingly take a seat, take your life plot it out in black and white
well i never lived the dreams of the prom kings and the drama queens i'd like to think the best of me is still hiding up my sleeve
they love to tell you stay inside the lines but something's better on the other side
i wanna run through the halls of my high school i wanna scream at the top of my lungs i just found out there's no such thing as the real world just a lie you've got to rise above
so the good boys and girls take the so called right track faded white hats grabbing credits, maybe transfers they read all the books but they can't find the answers
and all of our parents they're getting older i wonder if they've wished for anything better while in their memories tiny tragedies
they love to tell you stay inside the lines but something's better on the other side
i wanna run through the halls of my high school i wanna scream at the top of my lungs i just found out there's no such thing as the real world just a lie you got to rise above
i'm invincible i'm invincible i am invincible as long as i'm alive
i wanna run through the halls of my high school i wanna scream at the top of my lungs i just found out there's no such thing as the real world just a lie you've got to rise above
i just can't wait til my 10 year reunion i'm gonna bust down the double doors and when I stand on these tables before you you will know what all this time was for
wars with...
i am driving up 85 in the kind of morning that lasts all afternoon just stuck inside the gloom
four more exits to my apartment but i am tempted to keep the car in drive and leave it all behind
cause i wonder sometimes about the outcome of a still verdictless life
am i living it right? am i living it right? am i living it right? why Georgia, why?
i rent a room and i fill the spaces with wood in places to make it feel like home but all i feel's alone
it might be a quarter life crisis or just the stirring in my soul
either way i wonder sometimes about the outcome of a still verdictless life
am i living it right? am i living it right? am i living it right? why Georgia, why?
so what, so i've got a smile on but it's hiding the quiet superstitions in my head don't believe me, don't believe me don't believe me when i say I've got it down
everybody is just a stranger but that's the danger in going my own way i guess it's the price i have to pay
still everything happens for a reason is no reason not to ask myself
if i am living it right am i living it right? am i living it right? why Georgia, why?
then i read this.....
"I can still remember what it feels like to love with all my heart."
93 year old Elva Azzara said that. it speaks of great passion. you can find her, and other wise women here.
my partner at work has a theory. the world would be a much happier place if everyone spent some time each day coloring. yes, coloring. like, with coloring books. said theory could be influenced by the fact that she's an education major and her choice teaching assignment is elementary school, but don't let that sway you. i think she's right. of course, i get all excited at the prospect of new colors in gel pens, but i'm just a geek that way. think about it. it's nearly impossible to be mean while coloring. and look at all the creativity and childlike wonder you tap whilst pondering exactly which shade of purple to color the sea monster you just drew. go on, test the theory. you know you want to.
and speaking of colors......
the RB takes great pleasure in mocking SoCal's lack of "weather". i, of course, get righteously indignant because clearly she's incorrect. it gets cold here. i had ice on my car this morning. and we live at the base of a mountain range which is currently snowcapped. so there. pbpbpbpbbpb.
she's right to a degree, naturally, but i won't tell her that in public. the majority of the year, the weather varies from warm to warmer with a side of warm, a warm front on the way, and continued warmness throughout the week. blame the Mediterranean. it's their climate. there are actually only 5 in the world so that makes us rare, special, a jewel in the crown of....er, never mind. so yeah, for the most part, true "weather" is not something we get, which is a good thing, cuz surfing frozen ice? not so fun. hard on the polystyrene. mass quantities of sex wax required. hello? for the surfboard. ya pervs. what we do have, albeit abbreviated, are seasons, the highlight being a really spectacular Fall. when September, traditionally one of the hottest months of the year, merges into October, the air begins to get crisp. by the time Halloween rolls around, Fall is fully realized. the cities of Upland and Ontario have been around since before Nixon was born, and they have some of the most majestic trees i have ever seen. when those leaves turn, the colors rival anything you'll find in the colder parts of the country. rusts and oranges, bright yellows sliding into chartreuses, blood reds the shades of pomegranates and ball gowns. and because it's SoCal, there's still green everywhere. a day brought to you by Technicolor. something about the air in the Fall, the sunlight, vision is so much sharper, days brighter. the sun is blinding, in a retinal-searing kind of way, but because the day is so stunningly beautiful, you suck it up and squint, breathe in the absence of smog and thank a deity that you're still kickin'.
i'll take Perspective for $500, Bob.
my sergeant smelled smoke. it's the early morning hours of Christmas Eve. it's cold, (see above), it's quiet and he's bored. he asks if i know of a call that Fire might be rolling to. i don't. he looks some more and finds it. a couple of seconds go by and he needs another unit for traffic control. a minute or two later and he's asking for the unit that has one of the chaplains riding. the house is toast. there's that "gone in an instant" theme again.
meanwhile back at the RB, she's finding uber amusing examples of geekdom at the Bleat. i hop on over to get my daily dose, giggle in awe and horrified respect, then follow the link to the Backfence and nearly lose my spleen on, "I suppose I should drop a heartwarming haiku in here, but I have an aversion to newspaper columns that presume your heart needs warming -- as if it's a cold dish of congealed fondue waiting for the Sterno of my wisdom".......and not necessarily because it's so ridiculously funny, but because it's so eloquently true.
so what does a home grown episode of Star Trek have to do with a family losing their home in its entirety on the night before Christmas? it's all life. complicated, passionate, daring, dreaming for its own sake, simple, all the things you needed to know you learned in kindergarten, doing just because you can, parallel lines intersecting, goofy, joyful, many times out of your hands, and painful. sometimes, the biggest thing that happens is that nothing happens. read the guy that writes about it better here
"...you can't be at one with the Universe by yourself...."
thanks to Maayan for that bit of Browderism that's been burrowing about my brain since i read it. i'd give a great deal to wax philosophic with that man over coffee.
remember that bit about the Universe this holiday season. peace.
Aragorn to the frightened boy soldier: "There's always hope."
from Frell Me Dead.........
I'm very new here and kinda overwhelmed so be patient with me please. I just registered even though I've never seen this show. Ever. I only heard of it via the Firefly boards. I don't get the scifi channel and if Joss Whedon had never made Firefly I would still be able to say I'd never seen a scifi show in my life. Oops! I always forget my ex-beau turnin' me on to Red Dwarf which was so goofy (in a good way) I always forget it's scifi. When we split up I stopped watching anyway. I am not a fan of scifi. I AM a fan of outstanding television however.
So many comments on the Firefly board about the greatness of Farscape have made me come to believe that I have been missing out on something special here. I just wanna help. I lurked around on this board some before registering and it mirrors the pain us Firefly fans are going through. I can't stand it.
I think some people are getting caught up in the scifi aspects of these shows and not giving them a chance. I know I would have. My mom still calls Buffy "That vampire show." So I call NYPD Blue that "crack head show" . We're stupid I know. I'm 35!! I ramble. If you reply to this I don't think I'll know as I have never been in this kind of message board and it's weird to me still. I plan to promote this show I've never seen as vigorously as Firefly. Good luck to us all.
Rhobyneish
"I plan to promote this show I've never seen as vigorously as Firefly. Good luck to us all.
as amazing and crucial as Haldir's arrival with the Elven Army to Helm's Deep. Aragorn's a pretty sharp guy. and the zen of Farscape shows itself again.
i understand now why Elrond was so angry, so bitter, that he'd allow the Elves to leave MiddleEarth, allow the world to be slaughtered, covered in shadow. humans can be such abhorrent creatures, i'm ashamed to acknowledge myself among them.
come on. cancel something else i watch. i dare you. come on. kick me in the teeth cuz i'm down. is that the best you can do? come on, you bastards, cancel something else. hello? i'm waiting. what's'a'matter? you scared?
i've been working on a blog all night. at work. from an idea i got last week. not at work. stupid work. they have this whole preconception about my actually having to work while at work. there's that "preconceptions" word again. oh wait. you don't know what i'm talking about yet. so uhm, yeah, never mind this bit.
meanwhile back at the job...
since my blog lies incomplete, i offer you this amusing rant on the Silly Season. scroll down to the December 9th entry for it... although, the December 11th entry is rather amusing in a, dude-that's-just-wrong, kinda way.
and for the record, His birthday is sometime in June. hello? they glommed on the already existing pagan sun god's birth celebration. if it was really in December, everybody woulda been buried in drenloads of snow. three oriental kings sporting exotic flavored ice cream. amateurs.
cheers.
and what is up with my blog time stamp? it's frelling 7:45 in the morning. WAY past my bedtime.
tweakage in five, four, three, two, one.............
sorry. bored now. brain in amazing state of avoidance. could write. hmmm. that would involve choice. Farscape....LFN....uhm, no. blog. blog skins. change skins. avoidance goooooooood, yesssss.
avoidance now in progress.
ooooohhhhhhh....just found a hexadecimal color value chart with a groovy slide rule kinda dealy that shows you the colors as they change. shiny.
Is everybody happy now? Is everybody clear? We could drive out to the dunes tonight, 'cause summer's almost here. And I've been up all night, I might sleep all day. Get your dreams just right. Let them slip away.
i palm the door impatiently. he looks up at the sound, but only briefly, legs crossed casually on the table top. smug bastard.
"You need to stop."
he takes a long pull from the bottle in his hands.
"Drinking? I don't think so."
he gets my exasperated face.
"Messing with my head."
a harsh laugh.
"Sucks, don't it?"
i move to the middle of the room.
"Crichton, I'm serious."
he turns his head. i've got his full attention now, something i'm not sure i want. putting down the bottle, he gets to his feet slowly.
"And I'm just playin' games here, huh?"
he pauses, moving closer.
"You're starting to remind me of her."
i jerk like i've been slapped.
"You son of a bitch."
his smile is cruel. he steps closer and i back up reflexively, blindly, until my back bumps the wall of his quarters.
i try for the door, nearly deaf for the blood flooding to my head. his arm, muscles tense, blocks me easily. he leans in, bringing his other arm up. i'm trapped, his body so close i can feel the heat of it.
"This is your party, darlin'. I was happily caught in the middle of an interstellar war, waiting for Scorpius to show up, when you jerked my chain."
i attempt bravado.
"Happily?"
the smile shifts, briefly. ice to amusement. ice wins out. he shrugs.
"Crichton, please. Just let me go."
the ice gets colder. the hidden Peacekeeper boils to the surface. pinning me with his lower body, he takes my chin in one hand, the other caresses my face. the gesture is not affectionate. my eyes squeeze shut of their own volition.
"Crichton? You call me John in your dreams, baby. Funny thing about dreams. You can't control 'em. Can't get out of 'em. Can't close your eyes to make the nightmares stop."
funny, my eyes won't open. i can't stop shivering. the room is stifling.
"Look at me."
his tone makes my hair stand up. my breathing is ragged.
"Look. At. Me."
i obey. his eyes are shining, horrifyingly vulnerable.
"I can't....I won't be left behind again...."
a single tear travels the length of his face. i can feel my eyes welling.
"I lost her three times. Do you know what that...and now it...if you go...do I get forgotten?"
i swallow hard, ignoring my own tears. i know this fear. the fear of inconsequence.
"You're alive everywhere. Besides, you're too big a bastard for anyone to forget."
he laughs through his tears, his body relaxing. he rests his forehead on my shoulder.
"There's something I need to finish, John. I won't be gone long."
i lift his head up gently, meet his eyes again.
"Aeryn loves you. You know it like you breath."
he shifts his weight, standing up straighter, wipes his tears, but doesn't move away.
"I'm not that easy."
i lift an eyebrow. he shakes his head.
"I..."
"Step away from her."
the unexpected voice catches us both off guard. Crichton recovers faster, drawing his pulse pistol as he pulls me behind him with his free hand. i sigh in frustration.
"Michael, I've got it."
Crichton frowns, trying to place the name of the stranger instinct tells him is human, and clearly armed, standing at the door of his quarters. he takes in the bearing, the cold power in the eyes, the perfectly tailored all black clothing. he nods, smiling slightly, pulse pistol still aimed chest high, grip on me still tight.
"Michael. Sam-u-elle. If it ain't super spyboy.....damn, girl, you're head is crowded."
i roll my eyes. Michael, of course, says nothing. Crichton's smile widens, becoming more feral.
"Welcome to the UT's, buddy. Now get the frell out."
stupid me, i try to intervene. as if i could possibly exert any control over my own brain.
"Michael, it's alright. This won't take long."
Crichton's body tenses. dren. this is gonna end badly. i wince as his grip on my arm tightens.
"This is about...him?"
the sound of the patented Psychotic-Action-Crichton laugh makes my blood run cold.
"John, I...."
he spins, pulling me to him. his eyes are wild with fear and anger. jesus god. why quit while i'm ahead when i can frell shit up completely, right? if you die in your dreams, are you dead for real?
"You said important. This guy's worse than a Peacekeeper."
he spits the words out.
"He isn't. That doesn't...would you just shut up and listen for a minute? Why are we back to this?"
la, la, la, la, la. might as well be talking to myself. oh wait, i am talking to myself. er, sorta. Crichton gestures blindly with Winona.
"How many times has this guy betrayed his lady? Do you even know?"
Michael speaks finally. ya have to admire his timing.
"At least I didn't kill mine."
frell me. Crichton whirls, bringing me with. Michael shoots faster, dodging the pulse blast. Crichton jerks, blinking in surprise.
"Son of a bitch."
his knees buckle as he loses consciousness, the tranquilizer dart visible in his neck. i turn, mostly to keep my arm from dislocating, and ease John to the floor.
"I'll be back soon. I promise."
out cold. this is me thanking the goddess i won't be around when he wakes up.
"Michael."
we move Crichton to his bed. Michael watches as i pull the covers up gently, adjusting the pillows under John's head.
"You love him."
i smile softly, studying the face, the unconscious figment of someone else's imagination.
"We need to leave."
i walk out and into the corridor, moving towards the Landing Bay. Chiana comes around the corner. i nod and keep walking, she and Michael exchanging indifferent glances.
"Keep an eye on the old man for me, Pip. I got places to be."
i can hear her smile.
"Both eyes. Both hands."
her laughter ricochets down the corridor. Michael hands me his panel, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder.
"She's gray."
master of the obvious, that one.
"She is. Where are we with Oversight?"
he catches on to something else.
"That was a pulse pistol."
see above.
"Hello? You deserved it."
Just waiting for the daylight to come crawling in on me... And I've been up all night, I might sleep all day. Get your dreams just right And let them slip away,
must be a side effect of two weeks of focused gray matter. can't seem to get Crichton out of my head. that disturbs me. and it's disturbing me. my little Magnum P.I. voice is anxious. angry. confused. not a little bit obsessed. aching. solitary.
i normally don't channel Crichton. that's the Right Brain's purview. me Pip. tralk. snurcher. at your service. i like Pip. i understand Pip. she's safe. her motivations resonate. but John. he's the part of my brain i run screaming from. the memories in my mind that i try very hard to forget. technically, then, you could say i understand him too, quite well actually. but if you said that, i'd have to draw a pulse pistol, and that would end badly. the only person i understand better is Aeryn and we're not gonna go there either.
stupid ghosts.
getting back in the groove of MIJ2 has been very satisfying, (a word that looks so much better when spelled correctly), but, coupled with the con and some eps rewatched from Season 1, and that little, brilliant, moody bastard has managed to crawl his way back into my subconscious.
stupid brain.
i think about him pretty much constantly. the actor and the character nearly inseparable. the loss. the abandonment. the betrayal. the lack of resolution. some of the anger is mine, and some his. i don't know how much. i don't know which 'his'. i know it haunts me. i know it needs an outlet. i don't have an answer.
