"Considering All That Went Wrong", "Weird Poems", "It's Only Numbers"

June 6, 1999

"Considering All That Went Wrong"

Oh, the things that have gone wrong lately. While Laura and Shayna were out Friday, they bought another fan for the bedroom. I was the curious and industrious one that unboxed it and sought to put it together. Alas, it had a cracked bottom, and its necessary bolts were missing. No doubt someone had discovered the cracked bottom, returned it minus the bolts, and some clueless clerk retaped the box and put it back on sale. It's been since returned, yet that was a minor irritation.

On two different times, a cat found a way to escape the cateau. We think all the weak places have been fortified now. But the kitties are resourceful. They'll let us know if any other way of escape exists.

We tried to install a long bar for hanging clothes in what is still called the 'library room', but which has transformed itself into a giant walk-in closet. The cheap poorly designed brackets wouldn't even support a few clothes, let alone Shayna's full load. It all came falling down while she was trying to hang a few more items on it. We have used identical brackets on the hanging rod near the laundry room, and a similar instability problem exists. Mind you, all that rack is used for is hanging clothes to rest for a few minutes while I take them all out of the dryer. I have to take great care while I hang them, for the brackets are wobbly. It's a terrible design.

Oh, I'm not even remembering it all. Yesterday morning got a rough start because of a communication problem between James and Laura. Laura and Shayna sat around waiting for him, not knowing he had plans to do other things.

This morning Laura and I exchanged tearful words, so it was looking like the whole weekend was going to be crap.

Yet, a few things have happened that have made it not a total loss.

The four of us were sharing epiphanies we've had recently. Shayna sensed a message from divine source (call it Goddess, if you want) about learning to forgive and love herself. Curiously, this was going on in her head when I was working with the Goddess picture that was calling to me. Later last evening, I had a realization which has opened up places in me that I didn't know I could experience. The awakening of my sexual self to experience new heights in union with another was a precious gift. Perhaps I'll go into greater detail in ATTWT concerning this at a later date. Suffice for now, I want to give it that much mention. So those things were grace and hint of further growth to come.

Also, through out the day, whenever the phone rang, I had the odd feeling it might be my Mother. Supposedly nothing that odd of a thought. She usually does call on a Sunday, and it's been a while since the last phone conversation. While I have been here at the computer, typing away, the phone rang, and it was my Mother. She'd been thinking about me especially strongly this weekend. She'd gone to two graduations this weekend. The one was of her grandchild's (from my half-brother Dan, who I didn't know well) and one was of the daughter of Lynn, a cousin of mine who is the same age as me. I did enjoy many fun times with Lynn when we were growing up. My mother also chanced to talk with Tyan, a half sister of Dan's who I'd met one rare visit to their house as a child. I remember Tyan as a friendly girl I'd have liked to got to know better. Mother says she's still friendly and something in her manner reminded her of me. My Mother was quite lonesome for me. So we had a warm visit through the phone lines. And the day isn't over yet. Something else pleasant may happen!

June 7, 1999

"Kinda Off"

June 8, 1999

"Still Kinda Off"

I was kind of blue yesterday, and thought I'd try a visit with the inner space. This is what resulted:

Last tear ran afraid, first tear ran afraid, in between, some joy. I shoulder my burden and continue into what I don't know. Anyone else knows not, either. I suspect neither my feet. It's just one blind step after another.

It's not that 'misery loves company', but it's a sort of comfort I'm not alone in this malaise. Some recent words from other journallers:

Title for John Bailey's June 7th entry: "A touch of the Glums"

From The Sole Proprietor's June 7th entry: "I'm feeling a certain amount of ennui these days. Ennui in the morning, ennui at night, ennui in the bathroom all over the damned commode and the floor and the shower and the towel racks. Which, in my mind, qualifies as a certain amount."

Kymm's "brain is frying into uselessness"

And, June 7th Columbine reports: "I have no right to be grumpy today. But I am. Actually, grumpy isn't the right word. Vaguely dissatisfied."

I'm not the only one to feel 'kinda off' these days. I could go through the random function on Open Pages, and find others, but this is just a sampling from my regular reads. It helps knowing I'm not alone.

It's not ME, personally. It's a bad conjunction of the stars, or the collective unconsciousness, or something. Whatever. But it's not just me.

June 9, 1999

"Much Much Better"

It's been quite a full morning already. I finished a ladies suit, and she came to pick it up. She tried it on, and it fit her great. I always like to see the after results. After the sewing was done, I visited with the muse for a while. The results are unusual. I read it over and over, trying to decide if it was worth putting up on the web. After this long deliberation, I tested it out for ATTWT.

Do I know what it means? Is it gibberish? Somehow, there's something I like about its attempts to express the ineffable. It seems to be saying no matter how much we may know about the machanics of a thing, that doesn't take away from its wonder. Maybe that's just one of the things it's saying.

I've been busy in the ATTWT pages, sharing the story of awakening I promised you earlier this week. If things of such frankness bother you, you might not want to read it. But I gather if you've braved this much through my pages, you're game for it. Still, you're forewarned. All caution aside, it's a piece which will be going into the Essential Joan section. Laura and Shayna even want to link it from the Main Index Page! Blush! Woo! Blush.

June 10, 1999

"Surprise!"

Laura woke me early this morning, "Come see what I've done!" So I stumble out to the living room, and sit at her computer, as I am directed. She did, indeed, link my tale from the index page. She, however, took a few liberties with the various entries of Part Twenty Eight, and re-arranged them, giving it a title of her own. Ulp! It does seem effective that way.

I can hear the voices of people who might say, "You're always blaming those damn christians! It's not THEIR fault for all the rotten things in the world!" And that is true. One only has to think of what barberous things are done to both females and males in certain African tribes, and in some Islamic sects. I shudder to think of the genital mutilation that is done in some areas of the world. Women are denied their pleasure by cutting all possibility away for it. No, this is not the Christians' fault. Possibly, hopefully, the missionaries in such regions are doing their best to eradicate these evil practices.

Ah, but then the dissenter might say, these gallae of whom we are so enamored, didn't they engage in genital mutilation, when they cut away their testicles? However, they were adults and chose such things freely, as do transsexuals of this day. Their chosen alteration was for a greater joy. The things done in those tribes are forced upon the unwilling, as they are told, "You won't get a husband if you don't have this done." It is vastly different.

Anyway, I hear the thoughts of those who think we are excessively bitter against Christianity. They might say, "Well, Christians aren't like that now." And, indeed, many aren't. Yet, they must acknowledge the history that is their unfortunate heritage. The shame with which my Grandmother was embued and passed on to me did in fact have its roots in church teachings. I applaud and encourage those Christians who are working to change these things. Perhaps if each of us in our own way works on it, the world can become a better place.

I love that which would bring humankind to unity and better understanding of each other. I don't want to build walls, delineations made by hatred, fear and anger. I want all of us to see what we have in common with each other, and celebrate where it is we differ. Is this too big of a dream to have?

I love this quote Al features on his index page:

"All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are. And we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence, in order to reach forth to the enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song--but in this dance or in this song there are fulfilled the most ancient rites of our conscience in the awareness of being human and of believing in a common destiny."--Pablo Neruda, 1971

In that 'enchanted place', this dream I have can come true. Not ALL paths will lead to that goal. The annals of history show otherwise. But all peaceful and honorable paths will lead to that goal. When we simply seek the freedom to be ourselves and share our unique truth with others, it CAN happen. I've got to keep on believing!

June 11, 1999

"More 'Weird' Poems"

I've eaten too many dark chocolate covered almonds to count this morning. They went down so good with a glass of milk. I sat in front of the computer with the open bag while I did email. I count lost, but that bag looked about one half less full when I was done. Oh, they're SO tasty, and the only place I know that sells them is the CO-OP in Tucson. They probably have a website. I'm too lazy to find out.

James will be taking all those boxes Shayna and Laura packed and bringing them to the storage unit today. Laura (and Shayna, as well) is seriously exhausted, the accumulated labors taking a toll on her heart. Angina for three days continuing is not something to ignore. So she'll finally be taking it easy.

later this day . . .

I was productive, and cut out two bright plaid seersucker blouses for me in a simple pattern. I love the cool ease of seersucker. Wash it, throw it on, delightful. Ironing is such a chore. The pattern couldn't be easier. Two shoulder seams, two side seams that curve to include the short sleeve, face the neck, hem the sleeves and bottom. Easy in, easy out. That's for me.

And I cut out and got Julia's dark brown, nearly black skirt to the point of trying it on her for the hem. I wanted a soft look, and made it the full 90 inches(total! 45inches [114cm] per front and back of the fabric pieces at the bottom, tapering narrower at the top, lightly gathered into a slip-on elastic band. It should drape well and not be bulky because it's of a lightweight 'peachskin' fabric.

Also, between stitches I plumbed the muse. Thus I have two more 'weird' poems. The earler first one reflects a temporary blue mood. The other is considerably brighter. Genius or crap? I like the odd things nonetheless.

Hold it all now, human weakness is not the crushing thing we fear. The crushing thing comes in the night of dispair.   Am I flattened again? Will I merge with the earth, my essence absorbed? So absorbed, my essence will rest. Do I fear this weariness? JAL, 6-11-99

Like I said, I was in a bit of a blue mood. Fortunately, it passed.

And I know when I come bravely to that edge of infinate understanding, there will be no division, no strife in that pure quest. A heart, raised, uplifted to the illumination will know all that can be known. I will not burn in this clean heat, no strain in this stretch. JAL, 6-11-99

I think it's saying, once you've got it right, it isn't hard any more.

June 12, 1999

"It's only numbers"

Julia and Laura are having a terribly vigorous conversation on mathematical ability and the influence of gender. Julia had filled out a test directed to the transgendered about their perceptions of mathematical things. Of course, Julia was good at math. She was good at ALL things academic.

Here's a couple of the questions and her answers:

Did you enjoy learning mathematics? You are invited to elaborate.

Yes I did, and still do! Paraphrasing the poetic expression, only one such as Euclid has gazed on 'beauty bare.' That's the joy in pure mathematics: beauty, elegance, and quite literally 'the music of the spheres.' I am not so distant in heart from the followers of Pythagoras of ages past! (smile)

What would you mean if you referred to someone as being good at math?

Ah, that they have a feel for the beauty of numbers, geometric forms, the concept of limits, etc., and certainly some ability to frame the problems logically and employ the methodologies, just as an artist.

So they're going at it. Julia thinks females get short shift when being taught mathematics. Laura thinks math is taught fairly. As a female, I fear I fit more the standard stereotype of females not being good at math. I don't think any of my teachers, a mix of males and females, gave males a favored bias. But some may. I can only speak for the teachers I had. I recall a symbolic logic class I had in college. I took it to fulfill a requirement of my philosophy minor. The class was mostly full of computer programming students. The concepts totally boggled me. I went to the teacher in confusion, but confessed that I so little understood the subject, I knew not how to frame my questions. Apparently I wasn't alone. He graded on a curve. I managed an "A". Others understood it even less. I think I have a fairly logical mind. That alone enabled me to pluck out with tiny mental tweezers what sense I could of it.

As psychometrician, Julia is often at the computer with a chart of numbers and percentages in front of her. Every time someone new joins her Colloquy high IQ group, she takes their test results and averages them in with all the other members test scores. I don't understand the fascination of this. But it absorbs her for hours. I restrain my urge to call it "just frigging numbers" MOST of the time. I mean it no more wastes her time at least than my playing Heroes III for hours. It keeps the 'ol gray matter active and diverted for the nonce.

Two hours and still going on, I don't know if their debate is going to reach any conclusion.

~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~

I was moved to check out Starnet's news of the day, in the middle of the great debate, which has now turned to art. What is great art? With all my education (major in Art History, for one), I'm pretty basic. I knows when I sees it. I likes what I likes. And a good bit of modern 'art' is crap. So there.

Now back to those news items. I was startled to learn the Doctor from the first Star Trek has passed on, after " an extended illness". He was seventy nine. I enjoyed his crustry, down to earth portrayal of Dr. Leonard ``Bones'' McCoy.

And in weirder items, intersexed mice have been found at a Northern California wildlife area where thousands of birds were poisoned by toxic runoff from farms years ago.

"Male and female reproductive organs were found in one-third of the 87 field mice, house mice, harvest mice and California voles trapped last year on land that once collected toxic runoff at the Kesterson National Wildlife Refuge."

". . . They appear to be males from the outside and lack a vagina, but have a fully developed set of female organs internally."

Debate is over, time to get ready to go out. We're at last going to see the Phantom Menace! Yippee!