It’s amazing how much I’m getting done this Saturday morning, of which I have about 10 minutes left of. I got up around the time I usually do on a weekday/workday, 6:15 a.m., and went to get some scrap wood with my brother and a couple of his friends. The wood was at a glass repair place, so it’s from shipping panes of glass. Should burn very nicely.
Then I went downtown and got some more films, came home and sorted all my mail, balanced a checkbook, made coffee for Dearest and some eggs for me, and did all sorts of other little things I don’t have time for during the week. I might do this early Saturday thing again.
I know you can barely see it, but there’s a cat on my back, well, on my shoulders, more specifically. That’s Ninja, and she developed the habit with my stepson. I’m kind of honored to be a victim.
This is the first time Ninja visited my basement office for any length of time. She got into everything and explored every surface. Makes me feel part of the family.
Fearsome? Not really, more cute, I’d say, this Halloween display across my my cube. Yet it has many icons of dread: a black cat, bats, full moon, haunted house, ghosts. Even the faces we carve on punkins [sic] are meant to scare away evil spirits. It’s all about facing our fears, making fun of them, really, celebrating them, taking on disguises. trying to scare each other.
I used to really, really hate Halloween as a kid, not sure why. Probably because I went out in a new neighborhood (we moved a lot, Army brat) and got feakin’ lost. Then as a twenty-something, our Chicago loft was on the same street as a costume shop, and by raiding their dumpster, I came up with a nice 17th century waistcoat — instant costume. Later as a parent, I enjoyed giving out candy. Now I’m pretty much sick of it all, but tolerant. Here’s my one concession:
Happy Hollow Weenie!
The crunch and whispering rattle of leaves as you walk through them is one of the joys of this time of year.
I think it would be easier to write explanatory prose if someone were asking me questions, but to start, I need to pose the questions myself.
One of the pernnially favorite questions is: “What is the meaning of life?” To which I would immediately counter, “What makes you think life has meaning?” For that is the key, that we have brains which try to impose meaning on the chaotic universe around us and inside us. I would ask instead: “What gives your life meaning?”
For me, I derive meaning from: Being loved and loving. Having faith in something greater. Sharing true intimacy. Having mutually satisfactory conjugal relations. Doing a good job. Cooking for my loved ones. Intelligent conversation. Movies. Music. Pets. The list goes on.
I suppose some would put “helping others” higher on the list, rather than as a second thought. Let’s say it’s higher on my list of what will be meaningful in the future, while a lot of that other stuff was what was most meaningful in my past.
You can drive for miles to see fall color, or just look out the window. Here’s the view from a conference room at work.
Something about the vicious truck bombs going off in the East disturbs me deeply today. So senseless, so non-Muslim, so crazy, that I am nearly at a loss for any explanation. But here goes:
1. Those who would blow themselves up either (a) do not value their own life, and/or (b) have been told they are giving a worthy sacrifice that will be rewarded.
2. They feel no compunction about killing others because (a) they are unempathetic sociopaths, (b) they don’t consider those they are killing as human like them, (c) they have been told this is a worthy thiing to do and will bring eventual good.
Since there probably aren’t enough unempathetic sociopaths to drive all these bomb trucks, branwashing seems to be the logical explantin for how people could do such horrendous things. So we must change their minds, especially the minds of those who do the branwashing, who are on their own power trips and are using these people are explosive pawns.
I counter these thoughts with a focus on doing good, causing no harm, and living in peace myself.