Art and the philosophy of life

Posts tagged ‘Stuff’

Okay, so…

Demonstration, March, Masses, People

In spite of what some people think, or may say, we’re in this life alone, even if we’re together.  It can’t be any other way, since we’re individuals and not co-joined unless you’re a Siamese twin, and even then things will be different for each person.  Each brain is different from every other brain.

I’m always amazed when parents are surprised at the way their kids turn out.  They seem to believe that  because of the way they have raised them, they should be this or that, forgetting that they are beings who came here with an innate personality, and they will be who they want to be unless brutally, or guiltily, forced to become something they are not. (That, my gentle readers, was a run-on sentence). If forced, or manipulated, people can often be unhappy until they die.  It seems to me that we should look at our babies and, after thinking  OMG WHAT HAVE I DONE, we should love them, and with gentle and loving guidance, watch what they become.

All those studies on only children, middle children, first borns and the “baby,” are just ways to get grant money.  And isn’t an only child always a first born and the baby?  Anyway, not all those stereotypes apply to most kids.  There is no group that is all one way, or another.  Not all middle children are anything but middle children.  Not the oldest, not the youngest…duh.  What if there are ten middle children?  What about them?  It’s all busy work as far as I’m concerned.

It’s like saying all Italians are like Al Capone, but with less charisma and fewer dead bodies around them.

I think there should be books on DIVERSITY, not SAMENESS.  A book on how different all kids are from each other, no matter their birth order. Why are there no books on that?  Like why is there a Pentagon building, but no BUILDING FOR PEACE?  It’s a self-fulling prophesy.  The so called experts tell us what we’re supposed to see in a middle child, or the “baby,” and we see it.  “Oh, she’s a great success because she’s an Only child.”  I don’t think that’s good for anyone and we grow into our stereotypes because people keep putting us there.

We focus on the negative and useless things, if you ask me.  I realize the way to get grant money is to set up a study/experiment, but whether or not goldfish can get drunk, or middle children, or the “baby,” turns out to be like all the other middle children or babies, seems insane, especially since that stuff produces all the STEREOTYPES and LABELS.

Maybe it’s just me.  I think we need to concentrate on different things.  Things like overhauling the educational system, a $35 an hour minimum LIVING wage, an END TO VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN, CHILDREN AND ANIMALS, or an end to WAR.   Why can’t we do studies on those things?  That would be money well spent.

Oh, wait, those things will NEVER be studied, or changed, because the status quo needs those things to feed the RICH.  Better stick to the meaningless stupidity, so the 1% greedy people can keep making money on the dead and wounded and the sad and overlooked middle child.

Just stuff I was thinking about today.

Puppy…

Puppy, Dog, Pet, Cute, Baby, Animal

How cute is this puppy.  I love seeing the dogs people pick out, or the people dogs pick out.  Whichever.  Certain faces or traits attract certain people, the same way we find certain people more attractive than others. I’m never sure if those things are from past lives, or just something chemical, or in our DNA.  But they do exist, no doubt about it.

Even though we’re told it’s wrong and not good for our dogs, we still carry them around, let them sleep on our beds, kiss them and treat them like our kids or friends.  Supposedly that confuses dogs, who are pack animals and need a hierarchy.  In other words, they need a top dog to be in charge.

I think our dogs and cats are the ones who keep us sane, in an insane world.  We have cut ourself off from nature to the point where we have forgotten what we are.  We make friends with squirrels and birds, with coyotes and other animals walking around our cities suburbs.  We feed them, under signs that say, PLEASE DON’T FEED THE ANIMALS, because we can’t help ourselves and we love them, even if they just want our food.

I think we are desperate to reawaken that part of ourselves that has been buried.  The love we have for our companion animals runs deep.  Often deeper than it ever has for another human being.  I remember an elderly man telling me that he never got another dog, after his childhood dog died.  He said it was the worst thing that ever happened to him.  Worse than his parents dying, or anyone else.  He still missed him and it still hurt, even after all those years.  He never recovered from that loss.  I don’t think any of us ever do.  Not really.  I think we sometimes give more of ourselves to our companions, than we ever do to the people around us.

And that’s okay.  It has to be okay, because that’s the way it is.

Things I found out last night…PBS

When this pandemic is over, 50% of the world’s people will be living in poverty.

They also said that seniors will have a much longer time indoors than others, when restrictions are slowly lifted.  They will be in danger longer than anyone else.

Awhile ago, I wrote about humans and how it takes them FOREVER to actually grow up.  I found out why.  It seems that when we’re growing, we actually stop for a bit, because our brains need all the energy to do its thing, making synapses and working hard.  Can’t do both things at the same time, so there is a pause in bone growth, so the brain can have all the energy.  That makes sense and they said humans take longer to grow than any other species to reach maturity.  We knew that, of course, but now we can understand what’s going on a bit better.  Still, we spend most of our time just growing, learning and by the time we get the hang of it…it’s all over.

 

 

 

You are HERE…Ramblings

Solar System, Planet, Planetary System

I used this picture because Pluto’s in it.  When our probe flew by Pluto, the scientists were surprised, since there’s a lot going on, on that wee planet.  Scientists now call Pluto a Dwarf Planet.  That’s the nice thing about life, if we want Pluto to be a planet we can ignore what the scientists say and call it anything we like.   We can call the scientists things too, that’s the way it works.  Anyway, you can see Pluto, it’s the tiny white dot on the upper left.  And just for the record, Pluto doesn’t care what we call it.  We name everything so we can understand what other people are talking about.  That, however, doesn’t always work, so then we go to war and kill them.  But what we name doesn’t actually care if we call it anything at all, which is my point.

When the sun starts turning into a red giant, you can clearly see who will get eaten first, right?  And when you look at the Sun, you’re looking at a Star, so that’s what all the stars in the sky look like.  How did we ever come up with the pointy things we call stars?  Maybe the person who invented stars didn’t know that the sun was one.  A big orange and red ball on the top of the Christmas tree would look funny, now that we know that’s what should be there.

When I look at the picture I want to run my fingers through the orbital lines and watch what happens.  The problem is that I’d have to b a LOT bigger to be able to do that.  Still, it’s fun to think about.  Everything would wobble, go flying into someone else, or into space.  Hey, it’s just a thought.

Gas planets are strange.  To put it mildly.  Why don’t we talk about those things more often?  Gas planets are confusing, since we know so little about them.  They may have a core, or they may not.  It could be rocky, iron, or frozen hydrogen.  Scientists have no idea. Well, they have no idea about most things.  Everything’s really far away and dangerous, so there is that.

Anyway, think about the fact that all around us there’s Dark Matter, Space, Junk, and a gazillion planets, stars, black holes comets,  silence, and things we can’t imagine AND there are no edges.  You could walk FOREVER and never reach an edge because edges do not exist.  Humans like edges, beginnings and endings, so that’s hard for us to think about.

But the truth is, we don’t know what the truth is.  Maybe there is an edge, how could we possible know when working with a scale that large?  We’re like preschoolers, when it comes to the universe.  Maybe we’re floating in a great big casino like the ones at Vegas and we don’t know that either.  Things can be bigger than the universe can’t they?  We don’t know for sure that there can’t be things that are bigger.  Maybe the universe is inside a gigantic hamster wheel, that’s why we keep spinning.  Anything can happen, right?  Ha!  No you say, but you can’t be sure because no one knows what’s really out there, or what’s really gong on.

Maybe we’re pets of some long lost group of beings and someone, or something, forgot to bring us inside.  Or maybe this IS inside.  It’s impossible to believe the FACTS, since they change so often.  NEW info is coming in all the time and so is disinformation.  Actually, I’m going with the idea that almost all we get is disinformation.

Don’t you think yoyo’s can teach us a lot?  I mean if we concentrate, there’s a lot going on with a string and two macaroon sides.  Everything needs to be right for things to work, well, work in a way we’re used to.  You can WALK THE DOG with a yoyo but, if someone puts their finger on the string, while you’re doing it, it turns Walk the Dog into, Where is the Dog?   That’s what I mean about playing with the orbital lines on the picture.

What if the earth stopped spinning?  If the earth just STOPED, everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, would be GONE. because the 1,100 mph atmosphere would still be moving and rip everything away and toss it into space.  Good thing that’s not going to happen soon.  At least we don’t think it will.

What if one of the planets moved?  They’ve done it before, but that was a long time ago, before they all decided where they wanted to live.  Still, if one gets really bored…

Okay, I was just having fun, thinking about cool things, and now I’ve gone and dragged you along with me.  But really, we sit in tiny chairs and live inside  tiny things and everything around us is bigger than we can ever imagine, but not a lot of people seem to think about that.  Why don’t they?

A longish short story…about bookstores, James Joyce, authors and other things

“You can’t possibly be serious,” he said, his eyes wide.  “Opening a bookstore in the city is insane.  All the bookstores have closed.  Well, most of them anyway.  You’ll be an independent and you know what that means.  No one is going to give you MONEY.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy,” she said.

“Tell me why you want to do this,” he asked.

“Because so many books are written about bookstores in small towns and I don’t like to read books about small towns and how intertwined everyone’s life is and how they all know everyone’s business and then some guy walks in and it’s true love on the spot and then, after I throw up from the same old same old, I swear I’ll never read a book about a bookstore again.”

“Oh.  You should have just said that in the beginning.  I get that.  Still.  Maybe you should just write a book about a city bookstore, where no one knows anything about anyone else and no one finds true love when a plumber or lumberman walks in with his pig.”

“Pig? And why would a lumberman be in the city with a pig, even if he had one?”

“I was thinking farmer.”

“Ah.  There’s probably a book about that one too.  Oh, and don’t forget, most of the bookstores are left to the woman after she worked there with some relative while she was growing up.  The store is broke, and she is supposed to save it with no money or experience.  But she does it, after finding hidden letters, or pictures, that tell her secrets about her mother and grandmother.   Then she finds out that her father wasn’t her real father but the man who sold christmas trees at thanksgiving next to the hardware store.”

“Hahahaha.”

“I want to read books about bookstores, just not those books.”

“Well,” he said.  “You know the old saying…write the book you want to read.”

“It’s probably a lot easier than opening a shop,” she agreed.

“Probably.”

“There’s usually a divorce in there too, that’s why the woman can travel to wherever the bookstore she inherited is located.  She’s running from a broken heart.  They’re all the same book with different titles and covers.  Although, there were a few good ones and they all took place in a city.”

“You’re just not used to people who live in towns and know what what everyone is doing, or not doing.”

“I wouldn’t last a day.  That’s called nosey and none of your business, where I come from.”

“You’re a hard-core city chick.”

“Excuse me?”

“Woman, I meant WOMAN,” he said, backing up.

She glared at him.  “Sometimes there’s a dog or cat in the book and that’s the most interesting part.  Although I stopped reading them a long time ago.  I don’t understand how people like that live.  If I was born in a place where people looked in your windows,  I would crawl away as soon as I could hold up my own head.  Grab a few bottles out of the fridge, my stuffed animal and blanket and hit the road.”

“You’d get lost the minute you were out in front.”

“There is that,” she laughed.

“You have no sense of direction at all.”

“Another reason to be in the city.  Someone can say turn right by the sky scraper with the red thing out in front.  Not the same as turn by the old oak tree and the cow.  What if the cow is in the barn?”

“You’re just being silly and you have GPS.”

“I guess.  But I’m serious about those books. They are all interchangeable.  And another thing I don’t like is when they say that a book is like Harry Potter, or Janet Evanovitch, or Jim Butcher.  THEY AREN’T EVER LIKE ANY OF THOSE BOOKS.  That’s false advertising and a con.”

“Wow you’re really in a mood.  What’s up?”

“I hate James Joyce.”

“No kidding.  Why?”

“He screwed Sylvia Beach out of everything.  All that woman did for that moron…she went bankrupt and he never gave her a cent, or even a proper thank you.  They had a contract and he went behind her back and sold the rights to the book SHE PUBLISHED, for $45,000 and never gave her a penny.  Ungrateful jerk.  I wouldn’t sell his books in my shop.”

“You don’t have a shop.”

“Well, he won’t be in the shop I write about in my book.”

“Okay.”

“I think I’m finished.  Thanks for listening.”

“You’re welcome.  When are you going to start your book?”

“Tonight.”

“What are you going to call it?”

“I HATE JAMES JOYCE AND YOU CAN’T BUY HIS BOOKS HERE, or maybe, A BOOKSTORE IN THE CITY.”

“I’d go with the second one.”

“That’s probably best.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you love me too?”

“Of course, but that’s just like those books, you already know what the person’s going to say, so I was saving it until later when you didn’t expect it.”

“Why does that make sense to me?”

“You’re just used to me, that’s all.”

“I don’t think that will ever happen,” he snickered.  “You’re one surprise after another.”

“If there are any books by Joyce or Hemingway on our shelves we need to recycle them.”

“You hate Hem too?”

“He hit women and was another moron.  Lied about what he did and he was mean and ungrateful to Scott Fitzgerald and lots of other stuff.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t read about authors, or you won’t like any of them.  They’re all human and humans aren’t nice.”

“Maybe I’ll just read about women authors and artists.”

“Good idea.”

“And no small towns.  Sometimes they cry in those books too.  Blah.”

“You have a very limited emotional range.”

“Thank the Goddess for THAT!” she said.

“Not everyone would agree.”

“Like I care.”

He laughed.  “See what I mean?”

“No.

“You’re hard and often unyielding.”

“And?”

“Not with cats, or other animals.”

“And?”

“Why?” he asked.

“You have to be tough to survive. Life will eat you up and spit you out, unless you beat it to a pulp and kick it to the curb.”

“You believe that?”

“I do, since it’s true for me.”

“Okay.  Can’t argue with that.”

“No, you really can’t.  I’m really mad at Sylvia for letting Joyce take advantage of her but I like her so very, very much and she was kind.  Those lessons are things I remember.  Kindness gets you walked on.”

“Not always.”

“Pretty much.  So, since I refuse to be mad at Ms. Beach, because she’s a favorite of mine, I despise that conceited and moronic Joyce, because he knew what he was doing and he took everything from her and gave nothing back.”

“Well, he did make her famous.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“She lived through hardship and poverty because of him.”

“I know.”

“She had to borrow money because of him.  Her relationship with her friend was strained, because of him, she lost customers, because she spent so much time TAKING CARE OF HIM.”

“No one made her do it.”

“What?”

“It was her choice.”

“You need to be really careful now.  About what you say.”

“Why?”

“So I don’t…do something you’ll be sorry for.”

“What will you do?”

“I’m thinking,” she said.  “There’s a lot on the list of what I can do.”

“Really?”

She nodded and concentrated.  Then she went to him, hopped up, he caught her, and she wound her legs around his waist and kissed him again and again.

He groaned and she jumped down and walked away.

“HEY!” he said.  “Where are you going?  You can’t just walk away.”

She turned and said, “THAT’S WHAT HE DID TO HER!  That’s exactly what he did to her.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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