Sunday, December 23, 2007

Joy

Joy, that is the mystery of love.
If you are in love then you are full of joy.
If you accept the good news that God loves us,
that we are something very special to Him,
that in tenderness and the love He has
and that he has created us
and that he keeps us alive,
all that tenderness and love.
That is the reason of all joy.
That is why Jesus came...
That through me, my joy may be yours.
~Mother Teresa~

Merry Christmas
Teresa.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Humor in Hurting


Putting my parents aside, my best friend…George told me just for today, “You look like you are suppose to have 2 dry legs, shame isn’t it?”

“Ahhh…why is that a shame?”

“Tiz because Mattie…Arrrr, your eyes, they be leaking into your boots.”

Just to make sure my feelings are properly ballsed…I loaded my dishwasher and sat here naked with big green and yellow froggy slippers and just smiled. I looked at my legs. I’m out of sharp double blades. I’ll need a weed whacker soon. “Hey Miss Wendy – Hey Rob and my beautiful lover too, I’ll give you 5 cents for a proper razor!”

“Oh ya George, it’s not that I cannot sit with you as a show of faith. I probably could…I just don’t want too.” “I’d rather be here naked.” “I showed you that I had faith in your belief when I showed up and laughed at the little dead pieces of rice that littered the pathway.” “At my church…we don’t throw dead plants…we throw fertile confetti, it means the same when you have the faith [in the rice] or colourful paper.” “We just choose not to poke your eye out…we have fingers to do that.”

But I was still flooded. How could I be flooded? I’m naked and smiling.

Teresa.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Mental Stability = Suppression


Regarding an article in the Macleans magazine shamefully lifted from my Dr's office. There is an article concerning the "mental" stability of us ovarian carring society and how it does not differ from country to country. Apparently, women are unstable being judged by researchers and "professionals". This urks me to no end.

Get this…since Psyc Dr.s and researchers, as well as their patients, still adhere to a masculine standard of mental health, women, by definition are viewed as psychiatrically impaired. I resent this ideal. Weather they accept or reject the female role-simply because we are women, and given this fact it is not surprising that most literature of non-hospitalized populations reported greater female than male "neurosis" [sp?] or psychosis often regardless of martial status, age, race, social class or nationality. Why are women so emotionally disturbed more than our male counterparts?

Afghanistan is a terrible culture however it is widely accepted that women need to be and should be suppressed. Me Tarzan you Jane…. Cheetah had more rights…Well, he got the ripe banana but if there were ever a stereotype…Jane could use conjunctives.

Men are far too abusive and suppressive toward women who carry life into our body to appease them. Impending breakdowns by the populous estrogen society carry themselves for the most part needy on men to hurt them.

This conversation with myself brings heavy thoughts caused by images of women in Berka’s being murdered while the little daughters watched, afraid of showing emotion and not being able to touch their mother to take her from the street. Woman being tortured righteously by their husbands... little girls being raped by authorities...all these are so close to the birth place of Jesus Christ yet so far removed.

We must always wonder, comparing the totals from two separate populations, weather the differences are due to unintentional compromises of method to have crept in. If the two populations have contrasting cultures or economic levels, this kind of doubling is increased. Does population X, for instance appear to have more cases than population Y because culture X produces more cases or is it because culture X affects the criteria and methods employed make it seem as there were more cases? Put any other way, when two populations differ markedly in their cultural condition, do these differences may make any attempt to count cases amount to using a different indicator in each culture?

Nope...world wide, the percentile of depressed women basically out numbers our "superior" counterparts. I think I'll go spend a third day screaming, pooh-poohing, crying, crocodile tears and create generalized madness, as I see fit to be fashionably be restrained in a straight jacket without question as I do have estrogen.

"The insistence that femininity evolves from necessarily frustrated masculinity makes femininity a sort of normal pathology" ~ Judith Bardwick
Teresa.




Saturday, November 17, 2007

Amazing little boy!


I was browsing some blogs just now and came across this. I feel a little better now, not so sorry for myself. It's a "must-listen".

It is a 12 year old boy, who called into a radio station in Houston to share his story. His message and testimony is incredible! I think you might have to save this file to your computer to hear it, but it is definitely worth it!!

This link no longer exists.

http://www.ksbj.org/eblogs/morningShow/wp-content/uploads/2007/10/logan-calf-story.mp3

I think I post a permanent link to the left.
Thanks Melissa!
Teresa.

Take your frown off and come sit beside me, I'd like to talk for hours. We'll talk about your childhood with the thickest slices of toasted homemade bread straight from the oven covered in fresh farm butter and homemade jam. Enjoy sweet pickles out of an old jar on the end of forks that sit in brine during conversation. Open curtains with little yellow flowers on them slowly moving under the window. Does that sound nice to you?

Come sit beside me in the sunshine because I'd love to share this chair by the window. Warblers are twittering and the smell of Hyacinth is pleasant. You can see plenty from here and as I understand, Mr. Anson has been seen sweeping people off their feet again. I really shouldn't have given him that broom, the paramedics keep pulling people from his driveway. We'll have chocolate milk out of fancy tea cups and lift our pinkies into the air when we sip loudly from them. Does this mean much to you?

Come sit in the chair beside me in the sunshine my friend as I have lots to share.We could walk to the circus and sneak in the backdoor when they have their backs turned while they feed the Elephants and have Popeye cigarettes on our lips, looking important. Tell me the things you have done and I promise I will always laugh at you because truly, I love you.

I wrote this for my lover.
May 07.

Teresa.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Sensuous Woman



I’m giving up nice and becoming a sensuous woman,
The kind of a woman who wouldn’t wear bedsocks to bed.
I’m giving up going to places like Wal-Mart and the cleaners
And going wherever my appetites lead me instead.
I’ve bought all these books that are teaching me how to discover
Erogenous zones that would make my Aunt Una drop dead.
And as soon as I’ve found them, I’ll go be A sensuous woman.

I’m giving up good and becoming a seething inferno,
One of those forces of nature mere mortals can’t tame.
Beneath my silk thong such cravings will smolder
That (brother)Uncle John and my mother, if heard, would pass out from shame.
The books say even a middle-class girl from Huntsville
Can fan, if she practices, practically anyone’s flame.
And as soon as I’ve practiced, I’ll go be
A seething inferno for a single name.

I’m giving up sweet and becoming a creature of passion,
A wild thing that nobody ever can fully possess.
I’m leaving behind me a lot of wrecked lives, plus some headache.
[You think that a creature of passion would settle for less?]
My cousin Wendy, let me tell you , does not even know from
The animal needs that the books say I need to express.
And as soon as I need them, I’ll go be
A creature of passion with one man’s name on my lips.

I’m giving up G and becoming an X-rated woman,
With black silk sheets and an overhead mirror too.
I’ve still got some years, between file matt, Acrobat and pension,
To do all those things I’ve been warned all my life not to do.
The books say I’ll learn to stop worrying what my Aunt Una
And (brother)Uncle John, and my mother, would think if they knew.
And as soon as I’ve stopped, I will go be
A sensuous woman with one man’s name on my lips.

Teresa.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Shame on me.


My guilt has an amiable friendship with my grief. I must have fallen from a grocery store shopping-cart as a child.

For as long as I had my hands on him and his voice to my ear, it was the most delicious time of my life. Of course we’ve had our ups and downs. The pressure is intence when two people share their lives but Oh…what marvellous intencity it was. I thought I’d never see him again and if true agony were the mother of gloom, she would have her hand on my head right now. I’ve waited for months just to whisper, ~My Darling~ softly into his ear. I was given that chance once again and it was the only thing I wanted. Unfortunatly I did an exceptional job of annihilating it with little effort, on the very first day. I don't know why I did it.

Shame on me. I thought that I was falling apart in April…know what? Nope! Now I can truly say that I can physically feel the little rotten pieces of me breaking apart and falling to the floor smashing like brittle rock because after all, my heart must have been made of stone. He wanted to spend this time with me and I wasn't me.

I am so ashamed of myself.

Teresa.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Leavening


You guys are right, I put to much time into this Blog and my words are to important to destroy. Thank you for you inspiring words but I still feel tike the Tin Man...Never having a heart and never being able to obtain a physical one.

Placing my new glasses to my face the ones that I just became adjusted too …I start reading my feelings.

I take far to many things to my head in which I have no control over. I gestate and it comes out when ready and I sing them regardless of the grushing, thickening tightness in my throat.

On mental pains… "They are like trees along a riverbank bearing lucious fruit on their branches through all the seasons. Their leaves shall never wither and all they do is prosper" Psalms 1? I’ve got Bibles…just too lazy to conferm.

"You know you should be reading your Bible anyway like you should be eating your vegetables. It’s good for you"[Shop Floor quote].

I’ve come to know that love doesn’t build walls like I do. Love doesn’t make them constantly higher to look at, standing higher than the sky itself. Emotions affect the resolution. Circumstances make you stronger people that don’t fight like animals…to the death. Humans have the capacity to resolve into transformation of character and honer makes you walk taller. I walk very small because of the behaviour I choose to carry on behind my walls. When somebody builds a taller ladder to peak over I build my wall a little taller thinking that they didn’t notice what I was doing. Maturity makes us love and some people want to be alone [ahem] because I love but I can’t seem to cherish. We touch people everyday; it’s what we choose to do with our hands instead of constructing walls. We choose to touch by spirit and if the spirit is willing, it’s quite willing to cherish what we can obtain.

A little leavening changes the lump. It puffs it up and makes things huge. Leaven feelings, Leaven love, leaven hate, leaven emotions and even leaven addictions…they rise until they explode.

I think it’s time for me to go hybernate.
Teresa

Thursday, November 08, 2007

~A word in edgewise~

Does anyone know of a day when they haven't hurt?

If you think about it, I don't think that you can't be sorry for missing something. You only miss it when you know it's gone. Even when you have it in your hand. It still pains too deeply to know that you have ownership. You can take it and place it close to your heart but you truly can't hold it. No matter how hard you try to keep it clenched-you can't keep something that doesn't want to stay with you.

I can be poetic and plagorize the sands through fingers blah...blah...blah... I'll continue walking with my black hard [animal tortured] heals as they click, click, click on semi-standard pavement. I could say hello to all my friends as I walk with wet ears from crying and wiping them away, pretending that is the cold. However...just for today, I think I will leave them alone, wave, most likely because I chose to cross the street. If they stop me and I'll smile, giving them a laugh if they need it but if my mind chose to pause: if they ask me how I am, I would surely tell them to "F" off...Just for today.

I'll say sorry tomorrow.

Confused and misunderstood...my friends know me. So I guess it's kinda OK.

The people who love me...always love me..that's what love means to anyone I care to have in my life. I'm going to run tomorrow............As fast as I possibly can! I'll have my fancy schmancy track-pants on too. I'll wear a bra that has revealing factors to them [not like that you would know that I didn't need the jacket].

Teresa.

Ps, I have lots of friends [and lots and lots]. Just so everyone knows...

Saturday, November 03, 2007

November


Like a flower I’ll look to the sun. I’ll try to run faster across the street without looking for traffic and not paying any attention to the woman to the left that has higher tits than mine. I hear she pretends to read and write as she gets her degree in fucking. Sexual psychology…much easier than philosophy..run…close your eyes and run faster than you ever have before. You see her cry and I’m sure there is a country song about her.


"On a parti, six ans de mer. Sans pouvoir border la terre. Au bout de la septieme annee. On a manque de provisions."


This life is boring. Home no more home to me, whither must I wander? Cold blows the coming winter wind over
the hill and hither.

"Teresa, are you thinking again?" ...

"Shut up, I'm running."

Teresa.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Contemplation


Still having computer problems. My computer will just abruptly restart on a whim. It is so aggravating and I don't know how many posts were started for this blog and lost. I consider myself somewhat of a computer savvy and I am yet stumped. I spent the morning at church worrying about my modem and at our Cell meeting I had a minor slip up on the drinking front.

"One wine won't kill you," Hans told me persuasively.
"I guess one won't hurt," I replied as I drank a “crappy” class of red symbolic for the blood of Christ.

I felt like I had committed the carnal sin. I had given into the monster that can be my pancreatitus. It felt so wonderful though. I needed a release and that wine brought upon me a mellow calm.

"How are you holding out?" I then asked Denise.
"I came close to calling my father last night," she said. "This future homelessness is for the birds."

I wish I could offer Denise a home, but that would go over like a lead balloon with boulders.

Did I tell you how gorgeous today was? The sky is a beautiful blue with nary a cloud. The temperature is just perfect -- cool and not too hot, no wind to speak of. It almost makes me wish I were a squirrel and could enjoy this day forever, computer aside. Knowing my lover will soon arrive makes me selfish.

There is a fiasco with the camera. The lens doesn’t see what I see anymore. I used to see through a kaleidoscope. Not being too far from Cinderella dreams and Jane of The Jungle feelings…Sitting in my lawn chair, eating my fresh dills thinking that I was in a pickle, I yet worry about Denise.


Teresa.

I still want to be a rock star


I am a big eighties fan -- the music of my youth. I hear this song and I want to wear parachute pants, Air Jordans, and go hang out at the mall all weekend. Missing Persons was one of my favorite bands. Their music is the epitome of the sound that was characteristic of the eighties. Shannon says that this band gets on her nerves I listen The 80's so often.

Teresa

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Nitwit


Ok, I thought I should blog this.

Just off the phone, "What is your favorite insect"????

Ummm... Me.

"No you nitwit [nittwhitt~ sp?], what is your favorite bug?"

"Um...Me because I irritate people"

Hung up on the obscure conversation....... Praymantis. Bar none; only because I see them and put them on my fingers. People get grossed out by it. Kewl. It's like holding snakes that you find in your back yard.

I kinda like spiders too. And Bumble Bees... People are confused by these little bumbling bees... they sting just as hard but I've never heard of a person being stung by one.. Have you?

Teresa

I honestly don't feel too good right now.

Bonnie, it really pisses me off that you tell me to let go of the past when I give you memories. It makes me physically sick after I leave you with anger.

This is my medium and you can't change it.

Remember when we went to Berford lake and you would have me swim to the rock? It was way over our heads but I swam to it with you holding onto my neck. We stood on it and waved. The water was only knee deep when we stood. I'm tired of rescuing you from your reality.

Let go......OK, but I kind of like the fact when I sit with my kids, I have memories that made me powerfull to them, when I tell stories. I'm proud as punch that they think that I was a little person too. They always ask me of the stories and you know we have lots.

So ya, F' off too. Try delivering just one child without an epidural...and when your child asks you about your past, don't tell them that you let it go. Then you can get pissed off with me all you want.

Teak er..... my name is Mom, not yours!

Monday, October 08, 2007

Mind Think


My little one says......"Mommy, I've got too much time to waste than to be doing nothing." "When I was in your tummy, I choose you".

Shannon asks...."Did I ever say anything brilliant?"

"Ya you did............You said, when you were just 2......"

"Mom, I can still see the sky through the clouds".

"Yes you can". [great big honking hug ... giggled together with a little school paste(ya know the one...where you had to depress on the little red top lip to help it leak)].



I think she is more clever than what she thinks. Well...brilliant [she's mine]. I'm impressed.



Teresa.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Just to laugh


Where is Buckwheat when I need him?

Saturday, October 06, 2007

Personal invasion


Coming back home to find this was not pleasant. I'll leave it for a while only because you felt you needed to say something. And I think it makes you look stupid.
I've changed my password.
Where was I?....obviously I was away.

Stay off my feelings....this Blog is mine. Got it? My name is spelled without the "TH" although being called "The" gives me power. The woman......the female....the, Me.
The Teresa
waaa...tish..........[hear my thwhip?]

Thursday, October 04, 2007

To Urkel or to not Urkel...


That is the question.
Word History: The word nerd, undefined but illustrated, first appeared in 1950 in Dr. Seuss's If I Ran the Zoo: "And then, just to show them, I'll sail to Ka-Troo And Bring Back an It-Kutch a Preep and a Proo A Nerkle a Nerd and a Seersucker, too!" (The nerd is a small humanoid creature looking comically angry, like a thin, cross Chester A. Arthur.) Nerd next appears, with a gloss, in the February 10, 1957, issue of the Glasgow, Scotland, Sunday Mail in a regular column entitled "ABC for SQUARES": "Nerd—a square, any explanation needed?" Many of the terms defined in this "ABC" are unmistakable Americanisms, such as hep, ick, and jazzy, as is the gloss "square," the current meaning of nerd. The third appearance of nerd in print is back in the United States in 1970 in Current Slang: "Nurd [sic], someone with objectionable habits or traits.... An uninteresting person, a 'dud.'" Authorities disagree on whether the two nerds—Dr. Seuss's small creature and the teenage slang term in the Glasgow Sunday Mail—are the same word. Some experts claim there is no semantic connection and the identity of the words is fortuitous. Others maintain that Dr. Seuss is the true originator of nerd and that the word nerd ("comically unpleasant creature") was picked up by the five- and six-year-olds of 1950 and passed on to their older siblings, who by 1957, as teenagers, had restricted and specified the meaning to the most comically obnoxious creature of their own class, a "square."

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Why do directors so consistently make an exception for "Othello"?


Apparently, it’s because there’s nothing to be gained from changing it.

I went to our local Theatre this week to see Othello with a "person of question". I’ve been avoiding it for weeks but I wanted to see it…anyway back to my bouffant thoughts between my temples.

Of all Shakespeare’s heroes, Othello — in the original, a moorish mercenary employed by the regime of Renaissance Venice in its ongoing struggle against the Turks — is the only one who is black [or, at any rate, not European]. While I looked forward to this local revisionist production in which a white Othello was cast against an otherwise all-black cast, I didn’t hold my breath, I held my hands instead, under my thighs leaning predisposed to a more likely undesired wedded hoary favor to my right and leaning quite obvious, I claimed "I cant see and my hands are cold". For many, "Othello" is the only play Shakespeare got right and this is because, unlike any other Shakespearean drama, "Othello" speaks to our contemporary political concerns, our bad conscience, our desire to overcome a history of racial injustice. For once, Shakespeare picked the right hero and, just as importantly, the right villain.

This is more or less what happens in the "today world". Part of Othello’s appeal has always been its ruthless depiction of social envy and natural hierarchy[sp?]. Othello’s downfall, just as much as his power, derives from an innate nobility not shared by the other characters. His nobility is of the classical kind, a sort of fact of nature in which makes him stronger, bolder and more direct than most men. But Othello’s nobility is also the source of his weakness and, ultimately, his downfall. White or black dramatis, I witnessed rural Louisiana.

Having no need of deception, "he", is not untrained in the ways and for that reason especially susceptible to the low cunning of Iago also a noble character and, like Othello, stronger, bolder, and more direct than other men. The source of Lago’s nobility, however, is quite different from that of Othello. Where, Othello’s nobility is of a metaphysical kind, Lago’s is cultural in nature. Lago, in this play, in short, is noble because he is black. His tragedy, to that extent, is not his own. Rather, it is a tragedy of which is, at least by implication, common to all black and white Americans still to this day.

[...'tap' 'tap' 'tap'...]"Ahem, Hello?" "Is this thing on?". " CHANGING SHADES IS A VERY AMBITIOUS ADVENTURE REGARDLESS OF THE COLOUR OF YOUR BLINDERS". echo...echo...echo... [off my soap box once again] ~ That's mine and you can quote me on it ~
Teresa.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Holes

Shhhhh......I shouldn't be on the Internet.

In the vast silence I count the holes on a ceiling tile…er…drop ceiling panel. [Whatever]. I think there is 2052 no wait….2053…I’ve stood on my chair and tried not to spin or lose my balance while I stuck a pencil into one of the biggest holes. Tiara crowned...Karen is creating some new verbal violence down the hall and I have a diet Dr. Pepper crackeling herein the can, on the desk through the opening spout. I drink diet Dr pepper because it tastes more like regular Dr. Pepper. I’ve talked to Jesus..he seems to be the only one listening.…Karen thought that I was talking to myself. When I told her I was talking to God she gave me her Christmas list.

I picked my nose when she left and crashed through the glass cieling.

Testimony of faith based on personal revelation…knowledge through the word of Gods grace…WAKE UP! Words to look up when I get home in concordance….mystery: hidden: I have to look this up myself…I have no right to demand my answers. I know He is pleased that I have questions.

To bad he couldn’t tell me…how many holes are here, above my head taking away my thoughts...leaking into the nothing? Actually? This will drive me nutz.


Weeeee...............! [office chair thing].

Teresa.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Hand signals for the title


Marcell Marso died today so I won't say a thing about it but I wonder if he went quietly[?].

Saturday, September 22, 2007

No Function Here, Devistated By Love

I've sat here just 6 minutes to two hours with your phone card flipping over my fat thumbs.

If there was ever a moment where I needed to be embraced, I need you now. Your strong assuring arms to a weak soul. I admit...I'm weak but isn't everyone? It bothers me most that you think that I am not strong enough for you...and that I could never meet your needs. Does it really matter? What if you love me? What if I love you? What if I disassociate myself to fit into your environment? Would you still want to be with me given that I can become the woman you desire beyond the bedroom?

I no longer desire to be that MILF. I want so badly to be myself...........with a man like you.

Take this lonely life away and put me into your soul beyond the distance between 80 Google miles. Sometimes I hate that you talk to me because it messes with my plans. I don't know what to do beyond dropping everything and running to you because when you left me, my body, not my soul, was empty. I wish I could point to a pain to my doctor and tell him where I hurt.

I made plans for my life I can't change.
You play in my sandbox, when I am there. You have...I remember you a long time ago. Little girls dream of being princesses.....I didn't. I wasn't delusional about my life. You were always's there helping me build a sand pile of imagination with my little brothers Tonka trucks. Scooping and dumping into a pile of me as I thought.

Teresa...........P.S. I don't know if this is love but I tell you it hurts. Doug...my lover...my empowermant...why do I feel that the cat peed in my sandbox?

Friday, September 21, 2007

Turning 40


I’m giving up nice and becoming a sensuous woman,
The kind of a woman who wouldn’t wear bedsocks to bed.
I’m giving up going to places like Wal-Mart and the cleaners
And going wherever my appetites lead me instead.
I’ve bought all these books that are teaching me how to discover
Erogenous zones that would make my Aunt Una drop dead.
And as soon as I’ve found them, I’ll go be
A sensuous woman.

I’m giving up good and becoming a seething inferno,
One of those forces of nature mere mortals can’t tame.
Beneath my cotton thong such cravings will smolder
That Uncle John and my mother, if heard, would pass out from shame.
The books say even a middle-class girl from Huntsville
Can fan, if she practices, practically anyone’s flame.
And as soon as I’ve practiced, I’ll go be
A seething inferno for a single name.

I’m giving up sweet and becoming a creature of passion,
A wild thing that nobody ever can fully possess.
I’m leaving behind me a lot of wrecked lives, plus some headache.
[You think that a creature of passion would settle for less?]
My cousin Wendy, let me tell you , does not even know from
The animal needs that the books say I need to express.
And as soon as I need them, I’ll go be
A creature of passion with one man’s name on my lips.

I’m giving up G and becoming an X-rated woman,
With black silk sheets and an overhead mirror too.
I’ve still got some years, between file matt, Acrobat and pension,
To do all those things I’ve been warned all my life not to do.
The books say I’ll learn to stop worrying what my Aunt Una
And Uncle John, and my mother, would think if they knew.
And as soon as I’ve stopped, I will go be
A sensuous woman with one man’s name on my lips.
Teresa.
Adapted from "A Sensuous Woman" Judith Viorst.
Thank you Simon and Schuster for permission.

Lists



I love lists. Lists mean order. Lists mean things get finished. Lists mark passage of time.

Milk
Bread
Frozen peas
Popsicles
Jelly
Dulse
Tea

Nibs

They keep me grounded. I can’t forget things.

Call Dr.
Call Eye Dr.

Call Gynecologist.

They help keep me together. If I don’t write these lists I forget. I will miss something and get in trouble. I can even emphasis the importance with red ink and capitals.

Don't forget:
Prescriptions
Plastic bags
Circular saw
Steel drum
Bleach
Gasoline
Matches
Gloves
Establish aliby

We should be ready to go. Wait, I forgot the duct tape. I can’t have you making any noise on the way there.

REMEMBER DUCT TAPE.
Teresa.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Bathroom Etiquette?


There are people in the world — dangerous people — who are drunk with power (cough, cough, Cheney) but most of them are harmless little weenies whose sole purpose is to drive you nuts with their arbitrary rules, plus the obvious ones now chiseled in stone, so they'll have something to point at when they catch you. I, for one, won't be returning to the newest coffeshop here in South Bay Mouth [Rohr’s], not because the decor wasn't my taste and the and the employees unfriendly, but because of their "Ten Commandments", helpfully posted on the wall. You're basically walking into a nanny state: "Feet off the sofa! We are not a maid service, Clean up after yourselves! No cursing!"

Even better, there's a separate list of bathroom rules taped to the toilet, and if the standard Rohr's code of laws isn't patronizing enough [I'm sorry, I mean General Bathroom Tips]. I thought I should have wiped my feet before entering their latrine, throne of all thrones! Or else I would be arrested by the Toilet Police. I left a note torn from my scrapbook that read something to the like of... "Gee, thanks for the "tips," but I'm fully toilet trained and confident in my ability to use a bathroom without any retarded rhyming advice."

I would've taken a picture of the non-bathroom related rules, but it turns out "No photography" is on the list.

~I wrote this during my last visit to Manitulin Island~

http://www.icbe.org/icbe.shtml
http://www.zefrank.com/thewiki/poop
Teresa

Friday, September 14, 2007

What's For Dinner?






















I heard a strange noise.
What was it?
It was... screaming. Some kind of screaming, like a child's voice.
What did you do?
I went downstairs, outside.
I crept up into the barn. I was so scared to look inside, but I had to.
And what did you see, Clarice? What did you see?
Lambs. The lambs were screaming.
They were slaughtering the spring lambs?
And they were screaming.

Teresa.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

EUREKA!

An exclamation used as an interjection to celebrate a discovery. It is most famously attributed to Archimedes; he reportedly uttered the word when, while bathing, he suddenly understood the laws of displacement.

For the life of me I couldn't recall the name "Gelert". I was about to give myself Subdural Hematoma. I assumed it was a name from my imbalanced childhood - but how? How could that name come to mean something to me in the form of a lovelorn message.

EUREKA! I actually screamed in my steaming shower, lathered in my soft Dove Nutrium Skin Nourishing Bar - "A unique dual formula beauty bar that contains natural nutrients skin needs. It goes beyond cleansing and moisturizing to nourish skin, actually leaving your skin in better condition than ordinary soap. This pink formula contains a nutrient-enriched lotion with Vitamin E leaving your skin cleanly rinsed and soft, with a healthy glow. It deposits nutrients naturally found in skin." Well...that's what it claims on the hard to open cellophane package.

Undoubtedly Gelert I thought was an Aesop's Fables story. It had to be! Ok, think... think... think... A baby, a loyal pet...a wolf...a gun! Goggle it right now! Naked I sit in my squeaky office chair smelling lovely and shivering. Alas I cannot find it. Fingers typing frantically, hair completely depleted of moisture but very slick I came to realize.......realize.....fingers still moving....Crap! I forgot to rinse out the hair conditioner. I was about to get up and dread getting all wet from the shower again and there it was, THANK YOU WICIPEDIA!
Thought you had me there didn't you Doug? Er...ahem...Gelert? AH HA!

Teresa.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Pigeon Fight


During a recent trip to Toronto I watched pigeons — I know, rats with wings — in the bus depot while I was waiting for my bus. Anyone who's familular with the a city for more than, say, a week has to be totally over the birds — old ladies on park benches don't bother feeding them anymore— and just perplexed by the attraction they seem to hold for others. There's no way you can sneak up on a robin or a crow before they'll fly off. Pigeons are so used to people that they won't even move if you're about to step on them. But what was special about these birds is that there were three of them, and one was sort of lopsided. I'm no veterinarian, but I think it had a broken wing, kind of slouched over and wobbling. I'm gonna name her Trina, after one of my daughters pet Cestial Goldfish [She was an egg shaped goldfish, but its eyes were pointing up words to the sky and no dorsal fin]. A gimpy, depressed fish who spent her short time in her aquarium nutrifying the environment, getting her food stolen by the other fish and eventually and most pathetically became food for the other fish.

Trina had her own tourmenter, a white speckled pigeon, tall and upright — I’ll call her Adrian — who kept jumping on her back and pecking at her, because Adrian is a total douche. The third pigeon- I’ll call him Calvin, more or less watched the fight from a distance as also the crowd of humans watching along with me. I was torn — I think most of the people there were torn — part of me wanted to break up the pigeon fight. Part of me was eight years old and wanted to take Trina home in a little shoebox and nurse her wing back to health and part of me wasn't really sure what to do. Not that it's my fight, but what do I know about bird morality? They're not sentient in the same way that I am, and what right do I have to impose my morals on them? Not to mention, what right do I have to side with Trina over Adrian? Maybe in pigeon-land, Adrian has ethics on her side here.
The good news, if you can call it that, about my moral waffling is that no one else had a strong urge to help out Trina, or maybe just turn the Bus Station slightly less violent, either. A few people sauntered up to the fighting birds with their heavy bags and screaming children in tow, but being a city pigeon, Adrian hardly noticed. No one actually swatted at her with their Daily Newspaper [which might be illegal anyway] or ran at the birds or threatened them. I waited for my bus to come, figuring that either the Greyhound would scare the fight off, or the throng of passengers disembarking would. But no, as far as I know, Adrian is still there, wailing on Trina and Calvin not doing a thing [typical male behaviour when women are fighting].

Teresa.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Sneaky T!



I should have been a rock star. I really want to be, really truly in the deepest part of me I think I should be a rock star. I have the perfect name for it, Sneaky T, but unfortunately not a drop of musical talent. Although, that hasn't stopped a lot of talentless hacks from assaulting the ear drums of innocent listeners everywhere.

A couple years ago I decided I was going to teach myself how to play Ukulele. After seeing that a simpleton as Tiny Tim learned how to play the Uke I figured I could, too. He can sing sublimely, but seriously is lacking in even the slightest shred of true musical ability. Inspiration really can be found anywhere.

A couple of weeks ago when I was thumbing through my well worn copy of Aesop's fables to find the story I used in a post, I stumbled on the receipt for the ukulele. It has sat relatively untouched ever since the date on the silky piece of paper.

For the first couple weeks I practiced every day and was frustrated at how hard it was, but as soon as my nails grew out and I realized I would have to keep them short and that I hadn't really made any discernible progress, I put it away. It may have been gone but it was not forgotten, and the silent cries of it sitting in the corner mocked me for my folly and over blown sense of my own abilities. I may have had fantasies of one day playing like Eddie Kamae, but I knew that would never happen. Unfortunately, being able to strum out Baa Baa Black Sheep was equally impossible.

When I was at the Red Dog Listening to an unknown band earlier this week, I realized that there may yet be an instrument for me. A lanky, tobacco finger stained woman pulled out a tambourine and began beating it against her body in a frenetic dance to "Walk Right In", which also happens to be one of my favorite Dr. Hook songs, I thought to myself, "now that I can do!"


I walk past the Old Peterbprough School of Folk Music nearly every time when I'm downtown and I can see an array of tambourines from the window, but I have yet to go in and buy one. I am sure the Ukulele is lonely, but I can't bring myself to buy it a friend that I will also neglect. Although, I am just certain I would be stellar with a tambourine. There was a brief moment not too long ago when I thought my rock star moment might have arrived. An old friend informed me that he was starting a band, invited me to check out one of their rehearsals and then inquired if I could scream. Can I scream? Hell yes, I can scream. Like a motherfucking banshee. And then the question seemed odd to me and asked him why he needed screaming. Seems it is a pretty serious punk band that he is creating, which is even more odd considering he plays the banjo. It could be genius, though. I was totally up for giving it a go and between being an experimental punk band and featuring a banjo player, I figured I could fit right in with my rock star name, my latent screaming talent and my red vinyl pants and tambourine. Nothing ever came of it as far as I know.

Guess it is up to me. I'll cut all my nails off tonight and tune the Uke. The steel strings are murder on my fingertips. It is completely awkward. But for God's sake, anyone can play the Ukulele, even Elvis the Pelvis picked up the talents to win the affection of unsuspecting women and shit, if Tiny Tim who was very unattractive could woo the hearts of the women too…..maybe I can add to my charm. I might just get a tambourine, too. Just in case. I Might be Wrong.

I can play the triangle, I'll use it as a back up!

Teresa.

Friday, August 03, 2007

Murphy is no friend

The only law that has been constant in my life has been murphy's despite the governmental ones that we obey and utilize without a connatural thought on a daily basis. Life chooses to take many forms, it’s not just being humans however, this law is recognized only in our western culture. Bet you didn’t know that! Wikipedia apparently claims that this law originated sometime in the late 1940’s when some air force base coined the fraise that "If things can go wrong they usually do". Or more clearly "Things will go wrong in any given situation, if you give them a chance". It continues to discuss theories from Sod’s law and Finagle’s Law. Read it yourself. I’m too lazy to explain. Once again, murphy’s law, playing on my playful but loafing mood. Speaking of loaf…I think I’ll have some toast. I’ll probably burn the slices and the butter will no doubt be hard.


Teresa.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Stormy day ahead


This is a place for my musings. I doubt that I will have much to say that will interest anyone but me, yet I have paperclipped myself to the trend. Optimally, perhaps I might make you think from time to time… we don't do enough of that these days.

Well okay… I am, well... I am what I am. I love writing and reading- not necessary in that order. I love working as long as it interests me. I am going to be a writer, or at least would love to, enter the realm of possibilities only limited by my imagination. I love dreaming, being to myself, talking to myself. But I love being with others I like-too. I am very complex, difficult to understand and a difficult person so that makes me quite irritating. Hey, thats part of a good package, so you’ve to bear the brunt.

My Daughter Anna is just 8 years old (seen above showing me her uvula...that little dangling thingy). After church on Sunday we exited the bus at the park just down the street from our home. We stopped at the cornerstore for popsicles. Sheesh, I remember when popsicles were a nickle. Now theyr’e a whopping 87 cents for coloured, flavored, frozen water on sticks! As we continued to the playground, Anna tooted or more accuratly, expelled very loudly from her derriere. Instead of politely excusing herself from this very unlady like behaviour, she instead responds with something even more astonishing. As pretty and cute as she is says, "To air is to human". I nearly dropped my 87-cent Popsicle. We giggled together.

I’m meeting with my EX and our lawyers today. As you might say, It’s the precurser to a trial, however as I understand this step of the process is necessary. I’ll be ready to brave the storm for a bit this time. You’ll see me out there in my little Scooby Do dinghy, yellow rain coat and a Captain Highlighter rain hat tied securly under my chin, as I scribble useless thoughts on bits of multi-colored paper and toss them overboard... rowing in circles through rough seas, drowning myself in a paper ocean as the rambellings of an idiot and his demands are tossed into my direction aiming for my inflatable, falling like anvel’s to the bottom. Please continue, on hourly rates, your lawyer and mine must be costing you a fortune (I’m not going to bargan).

Whenever I notice our normal, manic weather, I feel a sentimental pride and delight in this place. My appreciation of the curious and changeable is sated without me having to do a thing. Of course I'm sitting comfortably inside.

MUAH!
Teresa.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

It was an accident?

I frequently listen to AM 680 in the mornings but invariably find myself becoming agitated by the Traffic News. It is not so much the constant reminder of just how badly people drive, or the level of congestion that no one [apart from Howard Stern] seems prepared to tackle. What gets me is the constant use of the word ‘accident' to refer to road crashes. Why? This has been much debate with me.

The constant use of the word ‘accident', especially by journalists, to refer even to those crashes caused by the most blatant dangerous driving seems to me one reason why we all seem to be in denial of the realities of our ‘car culture'.

'Accident' has a number of connotations that a more neutral word such as ‘crash' does not. Common phrases include ‘Accidents happen'. This implies that they are inevitable and that there is nothing that can be done to avoid them, which when it comes to road deaths is just not true. Another common phrase people use is ‘It was just an accident' or even ‘I didn't mean it, it was just an accident'. The subtext to this phrase is, of course, ‘It was not my fault' or ‘I refuse to accept any responsibility for what has happened'. [A universal problem with road crashes where everyone feels someone else must be to blame]. In short, the overuse of the word ‘accident' seems to encourage the general view that no one is to blame for road deaths and injuries.

Some time ago, I emailed radio 680 about this and ‘Sally Traffic' [as to say] did me the courtesy of Emailing me back. I was told that the use of the word ‘accident' was not the CRTC’s policy but that they would never use ‘crash' as she believed the word is ‘sensationalist'. [And of course we mustn't be ‘sensationalist' about anything as mundane as road deaths must we...?]. It also continued to explain that some commercial stations do have a policy of not using the word ‘crash', especially in the mornings, as it is felt this is more likely to upset listeners about to start their day.

There are plenty of other example of ‘the culture of denial' being expressed in language. For example, another common phrase is ‘The car went out of control' when what is really meant is ‘The driver lost control of the car'. We also say such things as ‘The pedestrian was killed by the car', even when they have been run down on a pedestrian crossing and what we really mean is ‘The pedestrian was killed by the car driver'.

Strangely enough cyclists seem to have much less problem calling ‘a spade a spade' and the word ‘crash' is used in preference by most cycling enthusiasts when they describe racing cyclists ‘coming a box of tricks'. It even sounds a bit odd to say ‘the cyclist has had an accident on the descent'. Almost universally, commentators will just say, ‘The cyclist has crashed' without this been considered to be ‘sensationalist'. Then again cyclists are not living in denial of the realities of the ‘car culture'... The philosopher Wittgenstein said that ‘the limit of my language is the limit of my world'. Given this if we are to make people less accepting of road deaths do we need to challenge the comforting language that the upholders of the car culture use to put a less threatening spin on the harsh realities of road deaths [And by drivers to avoid having to accept individual responsibility]? Or is a simple word such as ‘crash' really ‘sensationalist'?

Collision seems to be a good word.
Teresa.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Remember this?


Tell me if you remember those "Cassette-Read-A-Long-Books" (that go "TING" when it’s time to turn the page). Obviously it’s the Aesop’s fable and I’m pretty sure it’s called "The North Wind and the Sun" (don't ask me how I remembered). Another one I remember is called "The Ant and the Grasshopper". It’s quite brutal for a kid’s story. Anyway, you know this one. During the summer this grasshopper is running around playing games while all the ants are working getting food stored for winter. The grasshopper tells one of the ants to enjoy the sun and stop working so hard because there is plenty of food around. The ant said they needed to store food for winter because there wouldn’t be any around then. So, winter comes and the grasshopper is lying on his back about to die from hunger when he looks over and sees the ants eating all the food they stored for winter and does die.

MORAL: Preparation.
Aesop’s Fables all involve animals and nature etc. and it’s quite strange that these very short, seemingly children’s stories written over 200 years ago are still very relevant today to children and adults alike and are even studied by English Literature students world wide at Universities today.

Teresa.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Lover of Mine

Funny, I washed the windows today and once again I found myself still avoiding a patch of nose prints left behind by a spirit named Chewy.

I am a dreamer and it's my dreams you have. As you move on, remember me. I’ve felt you inside me, I've seen you smile. I've watched you sleeping, smelled your breath as you exhaled, listened to your heart. I don't wanna end up alone, nobody does. I'd spend a lifetime with you. You know my fears and what really makes me laugh and because of that, I'll always love you. I still hold your hand in mine when I'm sleeping. I will bear my soul in time. Goodbye my lover, my friend, my Darling. You have been the only one for me.

Teresa

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Sitting in Silence

Here in the center of this silence, I fall apart. In my panic to hold it together, I leap from the edge of the precipice into the soundlessness and fall down howling in a stinging awareness of the endings of things. An eye of sorrow in the midst of all that hurricane of joy. There, in the center of this silence is not eternity but the death of time and loneliness so profound the word itself has no meaning. Loneliness assumes the absence of other people. I will cry then. One tear for each of the deaths of the little things...castaway shoes of children, a broken flower, prom photographs of people who have long died and that I never knew. A fly swatter, baby animals in the wild left orphaned and hungry children. Wedding rings in pawnshop windows, tiny bodies of Cornish hens sitting in a bed of seasoned rice, a scoop of ice-cream on the sidewalk at the feet of a child holding an empty cone. A dead Sparrow on your lawn, paper dolls with their heads ripped off, touching other peoples memories at a garage sale and not being able to hold Grandma's hand anymore.

Teresa.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

What's happening to me?



I’ve been so lazy these past few weeks, my paper recycling is turning from a mole hill into a mountain. It used to be stacked neatly in file format against the counter touching the dishwasher. Now it looks like a mass of New Orleans. I’ve been so ill, I can’t seem to be consistant with eating. I’m way under 120 lbs. I’m wasting away and I am even now getting concerned.

Monday, April 02, 2007

Who are you?


I have Techniocolored visions that always include a presence, you, who, quite like the dreamer share delight in this dream. The way you leave me without the ability to walk is mind boggling. Your hands have never touched my soft flesh nor your lips caress mine. I haven't felt your body pressed against my breasts as you breathe in my ear in rhythmic dizziness, lying under you in a position of surrender, feeling my own abiding strength and limitless power as the pleasure builds in my belly and through my thighs. I can keep a fantasy for myself however every time I see you, my mind pulls upon it and it’s not something that I can control. My knees tingle and I give in to hot flashes. I have to walk away from my conscience or else I will faint. Particles of strength gather in me like steel shavings drawn to a spacious magnetic center, forming a tight cluster that nothing, it seems can break as I calm myself. You are intoxicating.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Send in the clown

I woke up with a wet pillow knowing I had cried. I have been dreaming of being with you. I don’t recall ever crying in my slumber beyond waking to a little girls nightmare.

I am compelled to share this dream.

~~The house lights are off in the auditorium, you are the only one there. All I see is your face as I stand on stage with brilliant, bright lights illuminating upon a sad face…Should I still bow and accept your silent bravo because the epiphany finished with “Send in the Clowns”? Although I protested portraying myself as a ventriloquist, wearing costumes and heavy makeup, I had no cast members, no supporting role but a Tony award defiantly guaranteed. Bowing gracefully as usual, the curtain falls so I continue to walk to stage left as always, having no more feelings beyond a grateful kiss of the hand into the air for the experience.~~

I hate that you truly don’t know me, that your opinion differs greatly upon what I know for what I stand for and what I am. My life completely was compensated in you…hence the lights of the stage, I was someone else and not me. Your eyes constantly on me, trying to change me far too fast and judging me if I failed.

Teresa.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Thanks Murphy

Just now I'm sitting in my squeaky grungy fabric office chair eating Dulse and sipping cold green tea and I realize! This recent hurtfull blow to the heart is just my luck. I never get anything good in my life but I can always count on Murphy's Law. It's the only thing constant and Murphy never disappoints me.

Picture this for me...A warehouse filled to the rafters in beautifully wrapped Christmas presents and pretty bows in all various sizes and textures. Knowing that I could pick one and only one to keep for my very own self while being told that there was only one empty box in the whole warehouse of wonders , what joy I would have! I would run with a quickening childlike heart sliding under a Christmas tree in an impetuous frenzy. Everything is grand indeed. Guess which box I would retrieve? Yup! the one full of air that probably had the flatulent elf that wrapped it let one rip into it. Well, I'll just look at the bright side of three conclusions.

A: I could recycle the packaging and save money.
B: The box really wasn't empty at all, it smells like byo-d-elf-graded hot chocolate with marshmellows and a cookie of course!
C: Bringing a thought of happiness to my heart knowing I brought temporary joy to an Elf for I will write a letter to Santa.

Christmas is only 9 months away! Well, so are babies but I won't get one of those but just my luck, even with no more copulating, I'll get one anyway.

Thanks Murphy
Teresa.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Spring forward, fall back...


It's ingrained in our consciousness almost as much as the A-B-Cs or our spelling reminder of "i before e...." And it's a regular event, though perhaps a bit less regular than the swallows coming back to Capistrano. Yet in those four words is a whole collection of trivia, facts and common sense about Daylight Saving Time. In 2005 and 2006, Daylight Saving Time began for most of the northern hemisphere at 2 a.m. on the first Sunday of April.

Time reverts to standard time at 2 a.m. on the last Sunday of October. Beginning in 2007, Daylight Saving Time is extended one month and begins for most of North America at 2 a.m. on the Second Sunday in March to 2 a.m. on the First Sunday of November. The new starts and stop dates were set in the Energy Policy Act of 2005.

Daylight Savings Time - for North America and its territories - is NOT observed in Saskatchewan, Hawaii, American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, and by most of Arizona (with the exception of the Navajo Indian Reservation in Arizona). "Other parts of the world observe Daylight Saving Time as well. While European nations have been taking advantage of the time change for decades, in 1996 the European Union (EU) standardized a EU-wide "summertime period." The EU version of Daylight Saving Time runs from the last Sunday in March through the last Sunday in October. During the summer, Russia's clocks are two hours ahead of standard time. During the winter, all 11 of the Russian time zones are an hour ahead of standard time. During the summer months, Russian clocks are advanced another hour ahead. With their high latitude, the two hours of Daylight Saving Time really helps to save daylight. In the southern hemisphere where summer comes in December, Daylight Saving Time is observed from October to March. Equatorial and tropical countries (lower latitudes) don't observe Daylight Saving Time since the daylight hours are similar during every season, so there's no advantage to moving clocks forward during the summer."

Daylight Saving Time is a change in the standard time of each time zone. Time zones were first used by the railroads in 1883 to standardize their schedules. According to The Canadian Encyclopedia Plus by McClelland & Stewart Inc., Canada's "[Sir Sandford] Fleming also played a key role in the development of a worldwide system of keeping time. Trains had made obsolete the old system where major cities and regions set clocks according to local astronomical conditions. Fleming advocated the adoption of a standard or mean time and hourly variations from that according to established time zones. He was instrumental in convening an International Prime Meridian Conference in Washington in 1884 at which the system of international standard time -- still in use today -- was adopted."

I guess you can call me a smart cookie, but hey, now you know that the date has changed for Daylight Savings Time, you have no excuise for being late for work. I'm on to you.
Teresa.

Friday, March 02, 2007

Italian woman finds live grenade in potato bag


I couldn't believe this story! Ahhhh the remnants of war.

Grenade was harvested in French field, officials explain.
Feb 28, 2007 12:03 PM
Reuters

NAPLES, Italy – A 74-year-old Italian grandmother who bought a sack of potatoes at the her local market found a live grenade among the spuds.
"I found a bomb in the potatoes," Olga Mauriello said in a telephone interview with Reuters."I went to the market to buy some potatoes and that’s where the bomb was. But this bomb was covered in dirt, and I put it in water and got all dirt off. And then I realised ‘It’s a bomb’!"
Police said the pine cone-shaped grenade, which had no pin and was still active, was the same type used by U.S. soldiers in Europe in World War Two. Authorities believe the mix-up happened at a farm in France, where the grenade was plucked from the ground along with potatoes.

To the woman’s relief, police and explosives experts in the small town of San Giorgio a Cremano, near Naples, recovered the grenade and safely detonated it on Wednesday. But Mauriello was still shaking off her close brush with death. It didn’t look like a potato and it was heavier than one. But what if she had cooked it?

"If I hadn’t felt its weight, I wouldn’t even have realised that it was a bomb," she said.
Source: The Toronto Star

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Listening to God


My lover quickly jokes that I am nonresponsive at times by creating a noise echoing with his hands to his mouth...schhhhhhhh... it sounds exactly like the snow you hear on a television station that has no signal. Meaning I have no signal, no brain activity. I think it's hilarious when he does this so I have a rebuttal concerning my lack of brain activity when I apparently have no signal. Read the following chapter I found in a book called "The Everyday Science Of Everyday Life" by Jay Ingram. I will now tell him that I am listening to God as I believe God created the universe however I respect that scientests believe otherwise.

The Big Bang on Cable © Jay Ingram 1989
(Used with permission by Mr. Ingram personally)

The next time you find yourself in front ot the television set looking for entertainment, throw away the TV guide and find a channel where there’s absolutely nothing on (yes, yes I know that’s most of them), a channel where there’s nothing but snow. Or if you’re idly scanning through the stations on your car radio, turn to the high end of the FM dial, somewhere around 108 MHz, and listen for the hiss in the space between stations. Once you’ve found it, you can revel in the unbelievable fact that your radio or TV is giving you a glimpse of the beginnings of the universe.

The snow on your TV set is just electric noise, a disorganized collection of unrelated photons-particles of electromagnetic radiation-flooding the antenna itself. Three or four percent of those photons have been flying around outer space for fifteen billion years or so, having first appeared a mere three hundred thousand years after the Big Bang, the explosion that began our universe.

The idea of the Big Bang is not an easy one to come to grips with. You have to start with the idea that the entire universe that we can see from the earth today is expanding: all the galaxies, and indeed clusters of galaxies, the billions or even trillions of stars in each of them, and the gigantic swirling clouds of dust and gas are all rushing away from each other at fantastic speeds. And they’re not fleeing to empty corners of the universe-space itself is expanding. The analogy often given is that the galaxies are like raisins in a rising loaf of bread. They’re moving away from each other because the dough between them is expanding. Obviously, if when we look out into space today we see everything rushing away from everything else, it’s reasonable to suppose that a long time ago everything was closer together that it is now, and the further back in time, the closer together it was. Physics dictates the the smaller and denser the universe was billions of years ago, the hotter it was. So if you extrapolate back far enough in time, like reversing a film, you come up with the entire universe crammed into a tiny ball that’s so hot and dense that it defies modern physics. That ball, however it came into being, exploded outward. The explosion is now called the Big Bang, and we’re living in it’s aftermath, the expanding universe.

The universe having begun as an object that’s too hot and too dense for explanation, cooled and expanded rapidly enough that even within the first small fractions of a second, it had assumed a form that physicists can comprehend. Even so , for hundreds of thousands of years it was still too hot for atoms to form, Because the moment the parts of atoms, principally the protons and electrons, formed tentative bonds, they were torn apart-they couldn’t withstand the agitation caused by the heat.

As long as atoms couldn’t form, the particles of light, the photons,were trapped. They’d travel a tiny distance only to be deflected or absorbed by free-floating electrons. Light went nowhere at that time, even tough there was lots of it. Astronomers describe this as the era when the universe was "opaque": everywhere bright, but nothing to see.

However, about 300 000 years after the Big Bang, there was a history-making event, the scientific equivalent of "Let There Be Light!" The temperature of the steadily cooling universe suddenly reached a point where protons, neutrons and electrons could stick together and form atoms. Once they did, the photons were suddenly free. There were no more loose electrons to intercept them, so light could travel in unimpeded straight lines, as it does today. That’s when your TV-set photons got their start.

The temperature of the entire universe at this point was about 3000 degrees Celsius, roughly the temperature of the filament in a light bulb, and the particles of light that were set free reflected that: they had the very short wavelengths typical of photons released from a hot object. (The most common example of this process in and element on an electric range. As it heats up, its colour changes because the radiation coming from it has shorter wavelengths. Even when it’s cold it’s radiating, but the waves are so long, you can’t see them.)

Since that time, fifteen billion years ago by current reckoning, a lot has changed. Because the universe has been expanding steadily, the waves of these light particles have been stretched out proportionally. Very short when the universe was relatively small, they’re now very long-wavelengths more typical of the radiation that would be produced by something very cold rather than something hot. That’s exactly what astronomers discovered in the mid-sixties: no matter where you look, the universe appears to be filled with the kind of radiation that would be produced by an object that’s only three degrees above the lowest temperature possible, absolute zero. That’s what’s happened to the photons released in that momentous event three hundred thousand years after the Big Bang: what was an explosion of light that filled the universe has become nothing more than a cold, faint, invisible glimmer.

But the photons continue to rain down on us. It’s estimated that there are five hundred thousand of them still left in every liter of the universe, and given that travel at the speed of light-they are a form of light, after all, several hundred trillion of these will pass through the palm of your extended hand every second! There’s no risk to you, of course- this radiation has an intensity of only one ten-millionth of a hundred-watt light bulb. But it is still enough to produce a few pops and crackles in our radios and television sets. However you pick up your television signal, whether by satellite, cable or just plain old aerial antenna, it has spent part of its time traveling through the air in the form of photons. When you tune in a channel, you are selecting photons that are traveling in concert in waves of a specific length. No matter what television station you are tuning in (and on some FM radio stations), some of the photons from the Big Bang have just the right wavelength that a few of them contribute to the radio hiss or the television snow. Right in your living room there is real evidence of the Big Bang.

While this cosmic background makes up only a tiny percentage of the snow or hiss. And while it is admittedly a pale shadow of its original awe-inspiring splendor, it is commercial-free and perfectly suitable for family viewing.

Jay Ingram is a science writer raised in Canada, he now resides in Toronto. He has taught at Ryerson Polytechnical Institute after earning a B.Sc. at the University of Alberta and a M.Sc. from the University of Toronto. His writing has earned him two ACTRA Awards as well as the Royal Canadian Institute’s Sanford Fleming Medal for popularizing science. Jay Ingram has also been the host of a popular radio show "Quirks and Quarks" he has published 8 books and is currently the host of the popular TV science series, Daily Planet which is seen on the Discovery Channel.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

I must have been angry.

I came across this hand written note this morning. I must have been very angry when I wrote it. I remember my EX accusing me of flirting and making unappropriate sexual comments in a chat room. It’s taken me forever to type this out. I think it’s funny now but I thought I’d share none the less. It's dated July 16th 2003.

Ira:

Thank you for allowing me to have such a wonderful evening after we fought last night before you left. I'll say you certainly got what you so desperately sought.

I believe that I am a valuable person who deserves to be treated with respect. Is it possible that your jealousy might act as a source to one of the plethora of social perceptions you were taught to defend yourself? I'll take a stab here: it could have a use that pulls in ideas of vulnerability. We might be jealous because the object (in this discussion, me) that has some interaction with a third party (being anyone in Chat). I shouldn't’t have to fear talking to any third party without you accusing me of being romantic with them. It's an interesting proposition that the emotion of jealousy/possessiveness -- in this narrow context of romantic love is not necessarily sinful or ethically wrong unless it is taken to extremes! I was strongly considering that crossing the privacy line is just me being too "private a person", not you being a clearly jealous and suspicious person.

This jealousy is not a function of possessiveness; rather, it stems from something we think of as part of us, and the event that causes the jealousy brings that connectivity into doubt. I know you have connections to other females and that is fine however, it seems to be acceptable for you to carry long telephone conversations with them. That’s fine, I don’t care…apparently you are assuming that I am doing the same. It would be none of your business to whom I choose to talk to. This thing makes the whole thing much more bitter to me, I don’t do "that" and to have you assume that I do builds resentment.

You seemed to be distracting from the issue last night (avoidance is a form of verbal abuse) and covering it up with accusations (verbal attacks). I have tried to be understanding, I have tried to believe that it may have been the alcohol but, you have displayed this behavior a few times previously and I am quite concerned of it. Seems to me that first of all, you've been working on boundaries for me and secondly, that you have perhaps a hard time trusting your own boundaries. You have no purpose or personal right to be questioning my conversations in a public chat room I feel like you’ve been disrespectful of my boundaries. I refuse to defend myself to any man when my intentions are honest, my intregrety is true and my morals are intact. You accuse me because I am attractive and in your irrational beliefs that automatically means that I'm promiscuous. "Of course that's wrong!"

That at all clear Ira Dear?
Congratulations you aroused me allright.

I so like the fact that my ex is illiterate and he couldn't pull an articulate thought from his peabrain. It's a wonder he can speak with syllables and I bet this note confused him.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Usual Rant

Alright, So if I have learned anything in the past week, It's that I've become very good at faking a smile, I have a bubble that has a small maximum capacity and when that capacity has reached it's limit I get annoyed. Me + Bank Card = no goodness whatSOever. I procrastinate just a teeny bit too much. I also either majorly overstate or understate things ie: I majorly understate when I say "teeny", it's usually code for "A WHOLE INFINITY-SIZED LOT". I suck at lying once I open my freaking mouth, I hate people who chew with their mouth open, earwigs and bad breath. Hicks just piss me off when they try to be intellectual, I’ll roll my eyes loudly at them. I reinerated how much I can’t stand doing the dishes so much that I can’t even find myself loading the dishwasher. I hate malfunctioning lids of coffee cups from Timmy's and snow. Oh ya, and when will I ever learn to use my time wisely and save myself the stress of day-before disaster-outbreaks?

I need to find my limit, or more correctly.... when I get to the place that I know is my limit, I just just need to quite frankly STOP. That goes for everything from drinking to shopping to giving favors to popcorn to jumping jacks, just everything.


Crap.Hope your week has been better.