G
MaeveoSliabh
spinning yarns
- Joined
- Jun 12, 2006
- Posts
- 3,454
Now that's interesting....
I've just discovered I can tell when J-- is awake and in the house. I was layiing here trying to sleep and all of a sudden the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and the muscles in my back tensed. Kind of like a dog getting ready to either attack or defend something. You know? A few seconds later I heard their bedroom door slam shut. All the way across the house. She'd gotten up to let the cats out of there. There's got to be something seriously wrong for that type of reaction and sensitivity to happen.
I've just discovered I can tell when J-- is awake and in the house. I was layiing here trying to sleep and all of a sudden the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and the muscles in my back tensed. Kind of like a dog getting ready to either attack or defend something. You know? A few seconds later I heard their bedroom door slam shut. All the way across the house. She'd gotten up to let the cats out of there. There's got to be something seriously wrong for that type of reaction and sensitivity to happen.
TheEarl
Occasional visitor
- Joined
- Apr 1, 2002
- Posts
- 9,808
Oh good god, I'm tired.
I was up until two o'clock this morning, researching my damned dissertation. Then I came home to sleep for a bit before heading back out to university for lectures and more researching, this time for my Agents coursework. My brain power has officially sunk below 'fire bad, tree pretty' level and I'm having trouble with coherent English.
So, why am I writing this blog? Well, because I'm egotistical and I want to join in with One Day In History. It's about collating together a load of blogs about what people did on October 17th and using them to record a snapshot of what 2006 British life is all about, for future generations. It's going to be stored at the British Library and, as an author, I really can't miss out on that kind of opportunity. So, here we go, my day.
I awoke, as per usual, a good three or four snooze cycles after my alarm clocks first went off. I say 'clocks' because they're definitely plural. Currently, there are three clocks tasked with attempting to wake me up, with a fourth being held in reserve in case there's something which I absolutely cannot afford to sleep through. Usually, they all fail in their tasks and, as has been noted in my now legendary blog 'Tempus fukit', I end up scurrying out of the house at two minutes past the time when I should. Just late enough to make me scramble, but not late enough to make me give up and go back to bed. Today was no exception.
Unfortunately, the lecture that I pitched up to after my precious few hours of sleep was a complete and utter waste of my time. It didn't affect me, didn't help me and in short, it wouldn't have mattered a jot if I hadn't even been there. This was annoying too.
Several bottles of Diet Coke later, I was caffeinated enough to attempt to do some more research on my Project Proposal for my dissertation. My six hours of library work last night resulted in the princely sum of 202 words and a lot of unnecessary background knowledge from related papers, so I needed to try and produce something worth reading. I've managed to finish a page now, which is one less page than I had yesterday. Slowly, slowly, catchee monkey. I then spent the rest of my day up at university trying to work out the optimum strategy for a Trading Agents game, where we program little artificial intelligences to battle against each other in a trading game. If anyone reading knows a good and easily-codeable method of making a successful TAC agent, then do drop me a line.
After a few hours of this, my brain rebelled and so I caught a bus down from university and deliberately missed my stop in order to help direct a foreign girl to a place which she stood no chance of getting on her own. That meant a half hour walk back down the main road, whereupon I bought healthy food for dinner and came to this internet cafe, as the idiots at the internet company have still yet to connect up my new student house. <le sigh> I haven't the energy to pitch up to rugby training tonight, although it's risking my place in the team not to. I'll just have to be extra brilliant on Thursday evening.
Never mind, there are brighter days ahead. Home will bring a chicken pasta dinner and the chocolate cake which the extremely shiny Caroline (god bless her little cotton socks) has left in the fridge for me. And bed.
Ooh, I like that thought.
A bientot,
The Earl
I was up until two o'clock this morning, researching my damned dissertation. Then I came home to sleep for a bit before heading back out to university for lectures and more researching, this time for my Agents coursework. My brain power has officially sunk below 'fire bad, tree pretty' level and I'm having trouble with coherent English.
So, why am I writing this blog? Well, because I'm egotistical and I want to join in with One Day In History. It's about collating together a load of blogs about what people did on October 17th and using them to record a snapshot of what 2006 British life is all about, for future generations. It's going to be stored at the British Library and, as an author, I really can't miss out on that kind of opportunity. So, here we go, my day.
I awoke, as per usual, a good three or four snooze cycles after my alarm clocks first went off. I say 'clocks' because they're definitely plural. Currently, there are three clocks tasked with attempting to wake me up, with a fourth being held in reserve in case there's something which I absolutely cannot afford to sleep through. Usually, they all fail in their tasks and, as has been noted in my now legendary blog 'Tempus fukit', I end up scurrying out of the house at two minutes past the time when I should. Just late enough to make me scramble, but not late enough to make me give up and go back to bed. Today was no exception.
Unfortunately, the lecture that I pitched up to after my precious few hours of sleep was a complete and utter waste of my time. It didn't affect me, didn't help me and in short, it wouldn't have mattered a jot if I hadn't even been there. This was annoying too.
Several bottles of Diet Coke later, I was caffeinated enough to attempt to do some more research on my Project Proposal for my dissertation. My six hours of library work last night resulted in the princely sum of 202 words and a lot of unnecessary background knowledge from related papers, so I needed to try and produce something worth reading. I've managed to finish a page now, which is one less page than I had yesterday. Slowly, slowly, catchee monkey. I then spent the rest of my day up at university trying to work out the optimum strategy for a Trading Agents game, where we program little artificial intelligences to battle against each other in a trading game. If anyone reading knows a good and easily-codeable method of making a successful TAC agent, then do drop me a line.
After a few hours of this, my brain rebelled and so I caught a bus down from university and deliberately missed my stop in order to help direct a foreign girl to a place which she stood no chance of getting on her own. That meant a half hour walk back down the main road, whereupon I bought healthy food for dinner and came to this internet cafe, as the idiots at the internet company have still yet to connect up my new student house. <le sigh> I haven't the energy to pitch up to rugby training tonight, although it's risking my place in the team not to. I'll just have to be extra brilliant on Thursday evening.
Never mind, there are brighter days ahead. Home will bring a chicken pasta dinner and the chocolate cake which the extremely shiny Caroline (god bless her little cotton socks) has left in the fridge for me. And bed.
Ooh, I like that thought.
A bientot,
The Earl
MaeveoSliabh
spinning yarns
- Joined
- Jun 12, 2006
- Posts
- 3,454
TheEarl said:
M
MissBri
Guest
FallingToFly
Political Stance: Porn
- Joined
- Mar 28, 2006
- Posts
- 7,677
I told you not to ask me for answers...
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Currently Listening
Youthanasia
By Megadeth
Train of Consequences
see related
Sick and tired
I pretty much stay angry. Blazingly, barely banked rage kind of angry.
I smile. I flirt, I laugh.
And it comes out in pictures, that light that is simmering just behind my eyes, made out of pure, finely honed fury. I stay angry, and it keeps me warm and safe inside my own skin. Anger has become my security blanket.
I know the whys of why I'm angry. I feel pushed, prodded and pulled from every direction. I have been chased and hounded and berated constantly for months. If it were only one person, I'd be fine, but it's NOT. It's months and months of people who have no right to do this to me, and those who have marginal rights harping in a continual chorus. I tell them constantly to back off, back off, BACK THE FUCK OFF and they refuse to believe me.
No wonder I can't sleep. No wonder I don't eat, and when I do, it's a miracle if I don't get sick. I live, for the most part, on caffeine, nicotine, and glucose tablets. I weighed 108 in May, I weigh less than 100 now. I've left Lit, hidden my Xanga, deleted my MySpaces that were public and literally wiped the slate clean on everything I could in an effort to escape the constant emails and calls. I've put distance between everything I could and myself, hoping it would end.
I know why I'm angry. I know why this constant burn runs through my veins, I know why I'm walking the thin edge of violence.
I just wish I knew how to let it go.
-----------------------
You look so fucking hard for reasons and answers- have them
I don't even care about trying to be nice any more.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Currently Listening
Youthanasia
By Megadeth
Train of Consequences
see related
Sick and tired
I pretty much stay angry. Blazingly, barely banked rage kind of angry.
I smile. I flirt, I laugh.
And it comes out in pictures, that light that is simmering just behind my eyes, made out of pure, finely honed fury. I stay angry, and it keeps me warm and safe inside my own skin. Anger has become my security blanket.
I know the whys of why I'm angry. I feel pushed, prodded and pulled from every direction. I have been chased and hounded and berated constantly for months. If it were only one person, I'd be fine, but it's NOT. It's months and months of people who have no right to do this to me, and those who have marginal rights harping in a continual chorus. I tell them constantly to back off, back off, BACK THE FUCK OFF and they refuse to believe me.
No wonder I can't sleep. No wonder I don't eat, and when I do, it's a miracle if I don't get sick. I live, for the most part, on caffeine, nicotine, and glucose tablets. I weighed 108 in May, I weigh less than 100 now. I've left Lit, hidden my Xanga, deleted my MySpaces that were public and literally wiped the slate clean on everything I could in an effort to escape the constant emails and calls. I've put distance between everything I could and myself, hoping it would end.
I know why I'm angry. I know why this constant burn runs through my veins, I know why I'm walking the thin edge of violence.
I just wish I knew how to let it go.
-----------------------
You look so fucking hard for reasons and answers- have them
I don't even care about trying to be nice any more.
galaxygoddess
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 11, 2007
- Posts
- 563
I thought I'd add one of mine.
warning: I ramble, even to myself.
Frequently, honestly, I’d like to say everyday but I don’t do it quite as much, I budget myself $10 for lunch. I used to only budget 3 or 4, but thanks to these addictive salads and sandwiches at a place I like to eat, I now upped my budget a little bit so I can eat there. I know I should go back to less than $5 a day but taking the walk from my office to the eat place just doesn’t seem worth only $5.
So here’s how it works, I leave my office, walk a block and a half from my office to the bank, withdraw $10 from the inside because I don’t have an ATM card, another half a block to the eat place. I wind up spending the entire $10 on my food, a drink and some candy. I have to have my candy. Sometimes I take a bit because I can’t decide which candy I’m in the mood for. Then I head back the block and half to my office and sit at my desk and eat.
I don’t care what I bought, I eat at my desk. Now, I’m a receptionist, so people coming in can see my food, so it’s probably not a good thing, but given the fact I haven’t been allowed to take an actual lunch in I don’t know how long, it’s just easier to eat at my desk and work. Not my fault that when I try to eat in the kitchen my boss comes back and gives me 400 things he wants me to do while I frickin’ eat.
This actually has very little do with my actual food, but more to do with what goes on when I go to get my food.
Most of the time, when I go out I get lost in a train of thought. My brain is always going. My brain is either going full blast, 90 to nothing, or it’s full out blank and stopped. There is no middle ground. Once I get a thought in my head it progresses so fast that within 5 minutes I cannot fathom how I got to the thought I just did without having to retrace my steps exactly. Like now, I am just trailing off every which away because I can’t control my thoughts exactly. I can be completely blank, and a tiny little thought seeps in and suddenly, zoom, there I go.
So any how, I manage to have this perverse thought almost every time I go for my stroll. I want for someone to try to snatch my wallet. You heard me. I want someone to try to take my wallet out of my hand. I seriously do. Everyday I imagine if someone ran up to me and grabbed my wallet out of my hand and took off. I also further imagine how I would take off after the jerk and beat the living crap out of him. That is my desire. For someone to try to take my wallet so that I may chase him down and beat the living crap out of him in front of everyone and then people will talk about the girl who beat up a mugger. I honestly don’t have a valuable thing for him to steal either. I just want to kick the crap out him for the gall of it.
So anyway I almost always think of this. I also, then begin to think of how, I would like to ride around on a little scooter and deliver sandwiches. You heard me. I would like to ride around on a scooter, with a little cooler attached to the back of it, full of pre-made sandwiches. I would randomly hand them out to people. No not for money, just to be nice. Those security guards I pass on my walk, ham sandwiches. Little kids walking with their mothers, PB&J’s. Maybe a drink, maybe there’s $10 stuck in the sack, but all in all, I would be passing out sandwiches to random strangers for no money whatsoever. I would be known as the scooter lady, or the sandwich girl. I haven’t decided which one sounds best to me.
So by the end of these two thoughts, which I think so frequently, I can’t exactly remember when I don’t have them, I’m now at the corner where the banks are. Mine just happens to be diagonally from where I come up the side walk so it requires two crossings to get through. On any one of these four corners usually sits one of two kinds of people. Either it is the religious guys with their “TRUST JESUS” signs, or it is the guys in the wheelchairs selling what ever it is they have decided would make them a little money.
The Jesus guys I can tolerate, I have actually gone as far as shake their hands or tell them they are doing a good job, even if I honestly think they’re kookoo, because it makes me happy and that makes me feel good. What bothers me, are the guys in the wheelchairs, because I honestly can’t help them.
Then a whole slew of things happen here; first of all, the “face itch”. You heard me. I get so bothered by them and so ashamed of myself more than anything that I start rubbing, or scratching my face or eyes in an excuse to not have to look at them directly. I feel like a total bitch if I look right at them and I’m not giving them some form of help. Be it money or assistance of some form or fashion. It’s not their fault, it’s mine.
Now if it were up to me, if I had an infinite source of income, if I had, I don’t know, maybe millions or billions of dollars, I would take these men in their wheelchairs and I would get them the best help they could have. I would give them homes and money and food, and if they were willing, I’d help them get jobs so they may support themselves and not have to sell pencils or candy bars or what have you. You heard me. I would make everything better that I could and I would do so willingly and without expecting a return of any kind.
I suppose what I should be doing instead is giving them my $10 lunch budget. I mean, I get t eat when I get home right, so why don’t I help them now when I can? Again, it’s my own shame. I’m ashamed of myself because I don’t help them more. It’s not necessarily their faults they are in the position they are in and they most likely don’t have anyone to look after them or why would they be down here? Especially two in particular; one is obviously a physically twisted individual who is wrapped in a tiny ball of himself in an electric char he controls with the use of one hand. He has a box of candy bars in his lap; the other is a man who makes me think he is a war veteran of some kind maybe. He is missing his legs from the knee down and he sells pencils. Today he was sitting in front of my bank. I knew he could tell I was trying to not look at him, but he doesn’t know my reason, he probably thinks I’m a snobby bitch. Honestly, I’m just ashamed of myself.
What I should do is hand him my ten dollars and be thankful for the exercise I got for the day. I mean I could stand to shed a pound or two from the walk. Hell if anything I should give him at least the $5 of it. But, I’m too ashamed of myself to suck it up and go stroll over to him and fork it over. Right now he may have a bit of contempt for me because I run away like a coward, maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t but I’m too chicken to go find out.
Often times I see people who can’t be any better off than me stop and talk to him and he smiles and is really nice, and sometimes I wish I was that nice and open to people, but I’m not. Instead, I just wish I could help and scratch my face as an excuse to not look directly at him. I’m pathetic.
This morning on the radio I heard an ad about “Don’t almost give, because it’s like not giving at all.” It’s true. It’s very true. I think that I want to help, but I don’t. I’m almost giving, but I can’t push myself over the threshold. It’s not a fun feeling.
Some time ago I was buying my candy, after purchasing my favorite salad and I heard a little girl ask her mother, “Can I please have some candy?” and the mother said “no honey, we don’t have the money.” The little girl looked crest fallen but didn’t ask again. I thought to myself, “now there’s a girl who is being raised right, there is a polite little girl and I wish more kids were like her.” I had a dollar left in my wallet and I really wanted to give it to her and say “for being an awesome kid, here ya go, go get some candy.” But I cowered out again, and left without trying. Maybe the mom would have gotten mad at me? But maybe I should have at least tried to reinforce the values that little girl had learned. Maybe, maybe, maybe... I still regret not giving her my dollar. Now I look for her every time I go in the store in hopes of giving her a dollar.
So here I sit, I’d like to help, but I don’t and I’m ashamed of my “almost giving”, because in the end; I gave nothing. Maybe, tomorrow…
warning: I ramble, even to myself.
Frequently, honestly, I’d like to say everyday but I don’t do it quite as much, I budget myself $10 for lunch. I used to only budget 3 or 4, but thanks to these addictive salads and sandwiches at a place I like to eat, I now upped my budget a little bit so I can eat there. I know I should go back to less than $5 a day but taking the walk from my office to the eat place just doesn’t seem worth only $5.
So here’s how it works, I leave my office, walk a block and a half from my office to the bank, withdraw $10 from the inside because I don’t have an ATM card, another half a block to the eat place. I wind up spending the entire $10 on my food, a drink and some candy. I have to have my candy. Sometimes I take a bit because I can’t decide which candy I’m in the mood for. Then I head back the block and half to my office and sit at my desk and eat.
I don’t care what I bought, I eat at my desk. Now, I’m a receptionist, so people coming in can see my food, so it’s probably not a good thing, but given the fact I haven’t been allowed to take an actual lunch in I don’t know how long, it’s just easier to eat at my desk and work. Not my fault that when I try to eat in the kitchen my boss comes back and gives me 400 things he wants me to do while I frickin’ eat.
This actually has very little do with my actual food, but more to do with what goes on when I go to get my food.
Most of the time, when I go out I get lost in a train of thought. My brain is always going. My brain is either going full blast, 90 to nothing, or it’s full out blank and stopped. There is no middle ground. Once I get a thought in my head it progresses so fast that within 5 minutes I cannot fathom how I got to the thought I just did without having to retrace my steps exactly. Like now, I am just trailing off every which away because I can’t control my thoughts exactly. I can be completely blank, and a tiny little thought seeps in and suddenly, zoom, there I go.
So any how, I manage to have this perverse thought almost every time I go for my stroll. I want for someone to try to snatch my wallet. You heard me. I want someone to try to take my wallet out of my hand. I seriously do. Everyday I imagine if someone ran up to me and grabbed my wallet out of my hand and took off. I also further imagine how I would take off after the jerk and beat the living crap out of him. That is my desire. For someone to try to take my wallet so that I may chase him down and beat the living crap out of him in front of everyone and then people will talk about the girl who beat up a mugger. I honestly don’t have a valuable thing for him to steal either. I just want to kick the crap out him for the gall of it.
So anyway I almost always think of this. I also, then begin to think of how, I would like to ride around on a little scooter and deliver sandwiches. You heard me. I would like to ride around on a scooter, with a little cooler attached to the back of it, full of pre-made sandwiches. I would randomly hand them out to people. No not for money, just to be nice. Those security guards I pass on my walk, ham sandwiches. Little kids walking with their mothers, PB&J’s. Maybe a drink, maybe there’s $10 stuck in the sack, but all in all, I would be passing out sandwiches to random strangers for no money whatsoever. I would be known as the scooter lady, or the sandwich girl. I haven’t decided which one sounds best to me.
So by the end of these two thoughts, which I think so frequently, I can’t exactly remember when I don’t have them, I’m now at the corner where the banks are. Mine just happens to be diagonally from where I come up the side walk so it requires two crossings to get through. On any one of these four corners usually sits one of two kinds of people. Either it is the religious guys with their “TRUST JESUS” signs, or it is the guys in the wheelchairs selling what ever it is they have decided would make them a little money.
The Jesus guys I can tolerate, I have actually gone as far as shake their hands or tell them they are doing a good job, even if I honestly think they’re kookoo, because it makes me happy and that makes me feel good. What bothers me, are the guys in the wheelchairs, because I honestly can’t help them.
Then a whole slew of things happen here; first of all, the “face itch”. You heard me. I get so bothered by them and so ashamed of myself more than anything that I start rubbing, or scratching my face or eyes in an excuse to not have to look at them directly. I feel like a total bitch if I look right at them and I’m not giving them some form of help. Be it money or assistance of some form or fashion. It’s not their fault, it’s mine.
Now if it were up to me, if I had an infinite source of income, if I had, I don’t know, maybe millions or billions of dollars, I would take these men in their wheelchairs and I would get them the best help they could have. I would give them homes and money and food, and if they were willing, I’d help them get jobs so they may support themselves and not have to sell pencils or candy bars or what have you. You heard me. I would make everything better that I could and I would do so willingly and without expecting a return of any kind.
I suppose what I should be doing instead is giving them my $10 lunch budget. I mean, I get t eat when I get home right, so why don’t I help them now when I can? Again, it’s my own shame. I’m ashamed of myself because I don’t help them more. It’s not necessarily their faults they are in the position they are in and they most likely don’t have anyone to look after them or why would they be down here? Especially two in particular; one is obviously a physically twisted individual who is wrapped in a tiny ball of himself in an electric char he controls with the use of one hand. He has a box of candy bars in his lap; the other is a man who makes me think he is a war veteran of some kind maybe. He is missing his legs from the knee down and he sells pencils. Today he was sitting in front of my bank. I knew he could tell I was trying to not look at him, but he doesn’t know my reason, he probably thinks I’m a snobby bitch. Honestly, I’m just ashamed of myself.
What I should do is hand him my ten dollars and be thankful for the exercise I got for the day. I mean I could stand to shed a pound or two from the walk. Hell if anything I should give him at least the $5 of it. But, I’m too ashamed of myself to suck it up and go stroll over to him and fork it over. Right now he may have a bit of contempt for me because I run away like a coward, maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t but I’m too chicken to go find out.
Often times I see people who can’t be any better off than me stop and talk to him and he smiles and is really nice, and sometimes I wish I was that nice and open to people, but I’m not. Instead, I just wish I could help and scratch my face as an excuse to not look directly at him. I’m pathetic.
This morning on the radio I heard an ad about “Don’t almost give, because it’s like not giving at all.” It’s true. It’s very true. I think that I want to help, but I don’t. I’m almost giving, but I can’t push myself over the threshold. It’s not a fun feeling.
Some time ago I was buying my candy, after purchasing my favorite salad and I heard a little girl ask her mother, “Can I please have some candy?” and the mother said “no honey, we don’t have the money.” The little girl looked crest fallen but didn’t ask again. I thought to myself, “now there’s a girl who is being raised right, there is a polite little girl and I wish more kids were like her.” I had a dollar left in my wallet and I really wanted to give it to her and say “for being an awesome kid, here ya go, go get some candy.” But I cowered out again, and left without trying. Maybe the mom would have gotten mad at me? But maybe I should have at least tried to reinforce the values that little girl had learned. Maybe, maybe, maybe... I still regret not giving her my dollar. Now I look for her every time I go in the store in hopes of giving her a dollar.
So here I sit, I’d like to help, but I don’t and I’m ashamed of my “almost giving”, because in the end; I gave nothing. Maybe, tomorrow…
TheeGoatPig
There is no R in my name
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2004
- Posts
- 13,163
My last couple of journal entries were already shared in the blurt topc 
G
Guest
Guest
I am learning to fly...
The whole flight journal is on http://blog.myspace.com/maharat48
-------------------------------------
My father is truly Mr. Fix It. My dolls were never broken for long. Nor was anything else for that matter. It also means that he prefers buying stuff he can fix later. He will never have one of these "new" cars, because they come with computerized stuff you cannot open without voiding the warranty.
As my instructor discussed the plane's carburetor and why exactly it needs to be heated, I was not clueless. About once a year, give or take, the wash bucket in my childhood home would be taken by one of those, floating in a gallon of gasoline, and we would all be taking the bus.
So, I never had to fix anything, though I did plenty of watching him do it. He liked to explain how things were done, properly, and I liked to hang around.
Time has passed, the little girl grew up, I haven't seen a carburetor since. The only thing I have ever done for my car is to fill the blue water for the wipers...
Last week you followed my odyssey at the mechanic. This week, as the warrior drove my car for the first time after the air conditioner got fixed, he was content for about five minutes.
"Those tires don't feel right. When it last time last time you put air on them?"
What I answered was, "Uh, some time ago."
What I meant was, '...around the last time you did it.'
I knew I could not drag this. The warrior himself had a blown tire last week, in the freeway - a scary thing. It was really asking for trouble, delaying this one.
Out goes Maharat, fearless woman pilot, to the gas station.
Breathe. Zen.
I parked my car, looked at the pressure chart, decided that 30 for everything should be just peachy, and placed the air thingy on the tire. Easy?
Not easy. The noise I heard sounded distinctly like a pudgy tire losing the rest of its air and fast.
'Come on, it can't be this hard.'
Tire was mostly flat, and there was little to loose, so I tried again. The pressure gauge showed a dismal reading of "1", which is about what the tire was looking like as well by now. No, no, no.
I looked in the direction of the service people, and they shouted back, oblivious to my plight. "NOT WORKING!"
Great! Just great. Now I have flat tire!
I walk there, and confirm the inevitable. "Can you help me with the air please?"
"Air is not working."
"Not working you say... you need to put up a sign then."
"Uh, I did."
"Well, there was not one before my tire went before my eyes..."
Helpful clueless man feels bad about flat tire, then comes with me. Tries the thingy again. Pressure now is officially zero.
Clueless man seemingly goes back to serving gas (people are beeping), and I start digging for the spare.
"WAIT!" Shouts the clueless man from afar.
Oh, I will. I am in no hurry for my first flat tire. I can wait...
Clueless man comes back with hand-held electric pump. "You should buy one of these, they are so cheap."
I would have answered, but I just smiled. No luck anyway. Those hand-held electric pumps you keep in your car are so cheap, they are unlikely to work when you finally need them!
Then the clueless man said something unbelievable. "You could always use your mouth."
I just pretended I did not hear it, and most certainly did not acknowledge his grin. That is about the rudest anyone has been to me in a while, even if I count the trolls that email me from time to time.
I could not suppress a smile though. I could not stop myself from wondering what he'd think of my sword polishing manual....'If you only knew!' I thought, pleased with myself.
OK, time to call the warrior. "Uh, I am going to be late."
Warrior is not happy. "No, you cannot be, we had that appointment ..."
"Ugh, you see, I tried to inflate the tire, now I am looking at a flat one, and this is gonna take a while."
I explain everything to him, and he now he is amused. "Didn't you hear the air going out?"
"Of course I did!"
OK. Zen. Breathe. So, Pilot girl has got to change the tire ... the guy from "The Little Prince" had to fix his plane in the desert. This is just a flat. Doable.
So I lock the car and start working. It is about time I find out what the trunk looks like under the nice black carpet.
I find the jack and the wrench. Very shitty one, by the way. Looks nothing like the ones I have seen my father use. Then it takes me a while to figure out where everything is, and in the meanwhile, some teenager, oblivious to my plight, seems about to connect his bike to the faulty equipment.
Now... should I be nice?
I remain quiet, witnessing just how exactly the sign gets removed from the faulty pump.
Kid takes thingy. Removes sign without reading it. Removes cap from bike tire... you get the idea.
I better make my peace with the Universe fast. "Not working."
"Whaat?"
"It does that." I point to my flat tire for emphasis.
The boy is unfazed. "Oh, thanks. You know, you can just drive to the gas station opposite."
"It is flat."
"Come on...it will hold."
I check out a second, to enjoy the mental picture of my warrior going berserk over a destroyed wheel, suspension and what else. 'You drove the car how?!?'
"It won't hold," I answer. "It is more than a mile until I can to a u-turn."
"Come on you are gonna spend an hour changing this now?"
I can't stop myself from wondering,'How about you helping? I just saved you from carrying your bike for a mile!' Well, I can't blame anyone for not wanting to share my fate.
"Not a choice," I answer, not putting my hopes up.
"Good luck." The boy smiles and leaves.
Sighing, I take out my new cutter, detach the plastic sleeves holding the plates in place, then go read the instructions in the jack. They are in Chinese...
I sigh harder.
I put the jack somewhere under the car, and detach the plates. Then I try the screws and ... Nada.
Another try and, Nada. No way I am stepping on this using high-heeled sandals.
Out of the corner of my eye I see two guys from the coffee shop move their chairs to my spot, and start chatting in Arabic, on whether they should help... or keep watching.
Time for second phone call to warrior. "No way those screws are moving. Which direction are they to turn anyway?"
I hear a pause, then it is the warrior's time to sigh. "Should I go there?"
"You don't have to, I mean, there are two guys behind me, watching me as I suffer ... checking out my butt..."
That comment does not seem to click with him. "Ask them for help!"
Sounds like a bad idea. 'You crazy, have you not read anything in the Literotica non-consent section? Flirting with a flat tire is a major no-no!' That is what I was thinking. All I said was, "Are you sure it is a good idea?"
"It is easy, you do it like that: hey, two strong guys behind me, could you please help this poor girl..."
Well, begging won't help pilot girl today. "Fine ... just go home."
So I breathe deep, turn around, smile, look at flat tire, and make a begging face to two strangers, for the first time in my life.
"Do you need help?"
"Yes."
The younger one seems rather eager... to help. "Just give me your phone number and we will be fine."
I keep the easy tone, but stop smiling. "My husband would not like that." (Now girls: be it in South America or the Middle East, always mention your husband in these situations, whether you have one or not!)
"The girl is married, leave her alone," says the other.
(Works every time.)
"What were you thinking of doing with the cutter?"
OK, so there is no helping the condescending look. I just show him the plastic things holding the other plates in place.
"I see."
The younger guy is still intent in chatting me up. "You are not from around here, are you?"
"Nope, I am from South America," I answer.
"Nice! Are you sure about the number..."
"Yes, I am."
"Do you like it, to have two guys helping you?"
"Ah, it is so lucky!"
I thank the two profusely, and when I am about to leave, the younger guy gets more insistent. "Come, on, give me your number. Just once, you won't regret it."
"Nah, not a good idea."
"Just once, what is there to lose?"
The rest of my dignity? I make an 'it is impossible" face, thank them again.
Then I get the hell out of there.
***
A few lessons learned:
Pilot girl will need lots of help.
Am getting better tools. I am sure they exist. I am not the first girl in this situation...
Am buying electric tire pump, just in case.
And if this ever happens in a non-populated area, I am calling the insurance company's rescue car and that is that!
The whole flight journal is on http://blog.myspace.com/maharat48
-------------------------------------
My father is truly Mr. Fix It. My dolls were never broken for long. Nor was anything else for that matter. It also means that he prefers buying stuff he can fix later. He will never have one of these "new" cars, because they come with computerized stuff you cannot open without voiding the warranty.
As my instructor discussed the plane's carburetor and why exactly it needs to be heated, I was not clueless. About once a year, give or take, the wash bucket in my childhood home would be taken by one of those, floating in a gallon of gasoline, and we would all be taking the bus.
So, I never had to fix anything, though I did plenty of watching him do it. He liked to explain how things were done, properly, and I liked to hang around.
Time has passed, the little girl grew up, I haven't seen a carburetor since. The only thing I have ever done for my car is to fill the blue water for the wipers...
Last week you followed my odyssey at the mechanic. This week, as the warrior drove my car for the first time after the air conditioner got fixed, he was content for about five minutes.
"Those tires don't feel right. When it last time last time you put air on them?"
What I answered was, "Uh, some time ago."
What I meant was, '...around the last time you did it.'
I knew I could not drag this. The warrior himself had a blown tire last week, in the freeway - a scary thing. It was really asking for trouble, delaying this one.
Out goes Maharat, fearless woman pilot, to the gas station.
Breathe. Zen.
I parked my car, looked at the pressure chart, decided that 30 for everything should be just peachy, and placed the air thingy on the tire. Easy?
Not easy. The noise I heard sounded distinctly like a pudgy tire losing the rest of its air and fast.
'Come on, it can't be this hard.'
Tire was mostly flat, and there was little to loose, so I tried again. The pressure gauge showed a dismal reading of "1", which is about what the tire was looking like as well by now. No, no, no.
I looked in the direction of the service people, and they shouted back, oblivious to my plight. "NOT WORKING!"
Great! Just great. Now I have flat tire!
I walk there, and confirm the inevitable. "Can you help me with the air please?"
"Air is not working."
"Not working you say... you need to put up a sign then."
"Uh, I did."
"Well, there was not one before my tire went before my eyes..."
Helpful clueless man feels bad about flat tire, then comes with me. Tries the thingy again. Pressure now is officially zero.
Clueless man seemingly goes back to serving gas (people are beeping), and I start digging for the spare.
"WAIT!" Shouts the clueless man from afar.
Oh, I will. I am in no hurry for my first flat tire. I can wait...
Clueless man comes back with hand-held electric pump. "You should buy one of these, they are so cheap."
I would have answered, but I just smiled. No luck anyway. Those hand-held electric pumps you keep in your car are so cheap, they are unlikely to work when you finally need them!
Then the clueless man said something unbelievable. "You could always use your mouth."
I just pretended I did not hear it, and most certainly did not acknowledge his grin. That is about the rudest anyone has been to me in a while, even if I count the trolls that email me from time to time.
I could not suppress a smile though. I could not stop myself from wondering what he'd think of my sword polishing manual....'If you only knew!' I thought, pleased with myself.
OK, time to call the warrior. "Uh, I am going to be late."
Warrior is not happy. "No, you cannot be, we had that appointment ..."
"Ugh, you see, I tried to inflate the tire, now I am looking at a flat one, and this is gonna take a while."
I explain everything to him, and he now he is amused. "Didn't you hear the air going out?"
"Of course I did!"
OK. Zen. Breathe. So, Pilot girl has got to change the tire ... the guy from "The Little Prince" had to fix his plane in the desert. This is just a flat. Doable.
So I lock the car and start working. It is about time I find out what the trunk looks like under the nice black carpet.
I find the jack and the wrench. Very shitty one, by the way. Looks nothing like the ones I have seen my father use. Then it takes me a while to figure out where everything is, and in the meanwhile, some teenager, oblivious to my plight, seems about to connect his bike to the faulty equipment.
Now... should I be nice?
I remain quiet, witnessing just how exactly the sign gets removed from the faulty pump.
Kid takes thingy. Removes sign without reading it. Removes cap from bike tire... you get the idea.
I better make my peace with the Universe fast. "Not working."
"Whaat?"
"It does that." I point to my flat tire for emphasis.
The boy is unfazed. "Oh, thanks. You know, you can just drive to the gas station opposite."
"It is flat."
"Come on...it will hold."
I check out a second, to enjoy the mental picture of my warrior going berserk over a destroyed wheel, suspension and what else. 'You drove the car how?!?'
"It won't hold," I answer. "It is more than a mile until I can to a u-turn."
"Come on you are gonna spend an hour changing this now?"
I can't stop myself from wondering,'How about you helping? I just saved you from carrying your bike for a mile!' Well, I can't blame anyone for not wanting to share my fate.
"Not a choice," I answer, not putting my hopes up.
"Good luck." The boy smiles and leaves.
Sighing, I take out my new cutter, detach the plastic sleeves holding the plates in place, then go read the instructions in the jack. They are in Chinese...
I sigh harder.
I put the jack somewhere under the car, and detach the plates. Then I try the screws and ... Nada.
Another try and, Nada. No way I am stepping on this using high-heeled sandals.
Out of the corner of my eye I see two guys from the coffee shop move their chairs to my spot, and start chatting in Arabic, on whether they should help... or keep watching.
Time for second phone call to warrior. "No way those screws are moving. Which direction are they to turn anyway?"
I hear a pause, then it is the warrior's time to sigh. "Should I go there?"
"You don't have to, I mean, there are two guys behind me, watching me as I suffer ... checking out my butt..."
That comment does not seem to click with him. "Ask them for help!"
Sounds like a bad idea. 'You crazy, have you not read anything in the Literotica non-consent section? Flirting with a flat tire is a major no-no!' That is what I was thinking. All I said was, "Are you sure it is a good idea?"
"It is easy, you do it like that: hey, two strong guys behind me, could you please help this poor girl..."
Well, begging won't help pilot girl today. "Fine ... just go home."
So I breathe deep, turn around, smile, look at flat tire, and make a begging face to two strangers, for the first time in my life.
"Do you need help?"
"Yes."
The younger one seems rather eager... to help. "Just give me your phone number and we will be fine."
I keep the easy tone, but stop smiling. "My husband would not like that." (Now girls: be it in South America or the Middle East, always mention your husband in these situations, whether you have one or not!)
"The girl is married, leave her alone," says the other.
(Works every time.)
"What were you thinking of doing with the cutter?"
OK, so there is no helping the condescending look. I just show him the plastic things holding the other plates in place.
"I see."
The younger guy is still intent in chatting me up. "You are not from around here, are you?"
"Nope, I am from South America," I answer.
"Nice! Are you sure about the number..."
"Yes, I am."
"Do you like it, to have two guys helping you?"
"Ah, it is so lucky!"
I thank the two profusely, and when I am about to leave, the younger guy gets more insistent. "Come, on, give me your number. Just once, you won't regret it."
"Nah, not a good idea."
"Just once, what is there to lose?"
The rest of my dignity? I make an 'it is impossible" face, thank them again.
Then I get the hell out of there.
***
A few lessons learned:
Pilot girl will need lots of help.
Am getting better tools. I am sure they exist. I am not the first girl in this situation...
Am buying electric tire pump, just in case.
And if this ever happens in a non-populated area, I am calling the insurance company's rescue car and that is that!
Chantilyvamp
Confidently Neurotic!
- Joined
- Mar 17, 2006
- Posts
- 10,242
I'm locked in! (from last years journal)
Anyone who knows the joys of keeping children out of the places they should not be will know at times its a test of wills.
The other night our little girl got through a gate we thought was closed and fell down the stairs. Needless to say it scared a good ten years off our lives in that one moment. Thankfully children roll and bounce really well. She came away with a couple of bruises and a few days of "less activity." Mind you that has been another contest of wills.
So today when I needed to get dressed I took her up, made sure all the gates were closed, and flipped the lock on the outside of her dad's office door. Now he was inside and I did tell him I was doing it. We do that sometimes to keep her from having a rumage while hes working. Normally he does it from the inside.
Today he was bit sick and I thought I'd save him for a few minutes, lock the door...get dressed...unlock door and go back downstairs.
Did it happen that way? No it did not. I got busy playing with the said munchkin, loaded her up and took off down the stairs laughing and playing.
We had been off playing for a awhile when I walked through the dinning room and happened to notice parts of some red letters on my computer in a small window. I thought to myself "what in the world is that."
Walking over I see this in a talker window:
I'm Locked In!
I also see my IM window flashing and it has a very polite "lemme out please =)."
What do I do, I nearly collapse in the floor laughing. I laugh all the way upstairs. And yes I even thought of making him sweat it out a few more minutes in pure evilness, but I did manange to control that part of my nature and decided to let him out.
I unlock the door and hes standing there looking all stern and I nearly fell on the floor laughing again. I did manage to get I'm so sorry out between the laughing bursts and even gave him a kiss.
I'm just glad I had decided on not going for the walk that I had planned this morning. I can just imagine how upset he would have been locked in his office till lunch.
My great evil sense of humour does want to test it one more time, but I think one accidental lock in might be let go, a second might be construed as an act of war.
Anyone who knows the joys of keeping children out of the places they should not be will know at times its a test of wills.
The other night our little girl got through a gate we thought was closed and fell down the stairs. Needless to say it scared a good ten years off our lives in that one moment. Thankfully children roll and bounce really well. She came away with a couple of bruises and a few days of "less activity." Mind you that has been another contest of wills.
So today when I needed to get dressed I took her up, made sure all the gates were closed, and flipped the lock on the outside of her dad's office door. Now he was inside and I did tell him I was doing it. We do that sometimes to keep her from having a rumage while hes working. Normally he does it from the inside.
Today he was bit sick and I thought I'd save him for a few minutes, lock the door...get dressed...unlock door and go back downstairs.
Did it happen that way? No it did not. I got busy playing with the said munchkin, loaded her up and took off down the stairs laughing and playing.
We had been off playing for a awhile when I walked through the dinning room and happened to notice parts of some red letters on my computer in a small window. I thought to myself "what in the world is that."
Walking over I see this in a talker window:
I'm Locked In!
I also see my IM window flashing and it has a very polite "lemme out please =)."
What do I do, I nearly collapse in the floor laughing. I laugh all the way upstairs. And yes I even thought of making him sweat it out a few more minutes in pure evilness, but I did manange to control that part of my nature and decided to let him out.
I unlock the door and hes standing there looking all stern and I nearly fell on the floor laughing again. I did manage to get I'm so sorry out between the laughing bursts and even gave him a kiss.
I'm just glad I had decided on not going for the walk that I had planned this morning. I can just imagine how upset he would have been locked in his office till lunch.
My great evil sense of humour does want to test it one more time, but I think one accidental lock in might be let go, a second might be construed as an act of war.
Equinoxe
Not a pod person
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2005
- Posts
- 13,356
I decided to bump this thread (although I am always loathe to bump old threads) because I was reading Selena's Spiritual Neglect thread and an old journal entry I wrote two years ago came to mind.
As a forewarning, the following journal entry is relatively insulting to most religious groups and spiritual beliefs, with the potential exceptions of Buddhism and Zoroastrianism, but mostly in a lighthearted sort of way.
Imaginary minutes from the Equinoxe-Sorts-Out-Her-Religious-Beliefs Congress.
Today’s meeting of the Equinoxe-Sorts-Out-Her-Religious-Beliefs Congress has been called into session; is there any new business?
Delegates: No, there’s never any new business.
Equinoxe: Fantastic. The chair recognises the Rt. Hon. Delegate for Buddhism, Siddhartha Gautama.
The Buddha: The essence of Buddhism is expressed in the Four Noble truths. Firstly, that suffering is life.
Equinoxe: You’re off to an excellent start.
The Buddha: The cause of this suffering is attachment to worldly things.
Equinoxe: Okay, I agree with you, but what if I like things?
The Buddha: Well, we seek for the Middle Path, shunning the extremes of hedonism and asceticism.
Equinoxe: How about if I just sort of waver back and forth like a sine wave centred on the Middle Path?
The Buddha: That’s not really the idea.
Equinoxe: Damn. I suppose we shall have to move to the next delegate. What does Lao Tse have to say about the nature of life?
Lao Tse: The essence of Taoism is the eternal Tao, the balance of the universe.
Equinoxe: Balance sounds good, that would seem more dynamic.
Lao Tse: It is about the dualism and the complimentary nature of opposites, like the earth and the sky, or male and female.
Equinoxe: You lose points for the last example, but do go on.
Lao Tse: This is expressed in the concept of Yin and Yang. Yang represents most of the attributes that are historically considered positive, and masculinity. Yin represents most of the attributes that are historically considered negative, and femininity.
Equinoxe: All right-- let’s move on to the next delegate, shall we? The Chair recognises the Rt. Hon. Delegate for Judaism, YHVH; how do we pronounce that, what is Your name?
YHVH: I am that I am.
Equinoxe: Cute. What does Judaism have to offer me?
YHVH: I give you 613 mitzvot and you follow them, because you love me.
Equinoxe: Do I get anything in return for following these 613 rules?
YHVH: Millennia of suffering.
Equinoxe: So far we have a winner.
YHVH: But wait, there’s more! You get potential membership in your own country and all the bagels you can eat. Also, being a lesbian is mostly all right, or at least not technically wrong.
Equinoxe: I must say, things are looking good.
YHVH: Oh yeah, and none of this 'I’m Irish/Scottish' crap, you have to be a Jew, it has its own culture and language and everything.
Equinoxe: Do I get to magickally look Middle Eastern?
YHVH: No.
Equinoxe: So close... Still a strong contender though, we’ll see how things progress. All right, the Chair recognises the Rt. Hon. Mr. Jesus H. Christ.
Jesus (points at YHVH): He and I are the same person you know.
YHVH: No, no we’re not.
Jesus: Yeah, thanks dad.
*YHVH makes hand gestures of confusion and mouths, 'I don’t even know him'*
Equinoxe: Anyway, moving on!
Jesus: For the record, I’ll be speaking on behalf of the Catholics and maybe the Orthodox; I don’t know what went wrong with the Protestants.
Equinoxe: Fair enough, so what do you have to say about Christianity?
Jesus: In essence, the religion believes that I am God and is an attempt to form a sort of relationship.
Equinoxe: I don’t really see that being the case, what about the general moral teachings?
Jesus: Do onto others, as you would have them do onto you. This is a summary of all that is taught in the law and the prophets.
Equinoxe: That sounds rather enticing on paper, tell me more. They say you love everyone, do you?
Jesus: Except gay people, I’m told I hate them.
Equinoxe: How about if I completely ignore most of the moral elements and the various theological parts of the religion and use it solely as a quasi-impressionist attempt to acquire some semblance of divine contact through elaborate ritual and aesthetic forms?
Jesus: Works for most Catholics, I see no reason why you can't.
Equinoxe: Fantastic, I think you’ll be going in the maybe file. Let’s see, who do we have next? Ah yes, the chair recognises the Rt. Hon. Zarathushtra.
Zarathushtra: It’s a pleasure to be here. I’m glad you didn’t refer to me as Zoroaster.
Equinoxe: I know, damn Greeks; anyway, I’ve reviewed the literature, I am most pleased with many elements of the Gathas, including the general female-positive attitude, but I have a couple of questions.
Zarathushtra: I will do my best to answer them for you.
Equinoxe: Is joining the religion going to make me upset that I’m not Iranian, as per my continued childish fantasies?
Zarathushtra: Yes.
Equinoxe: A succinct and likely correct answer, but the Parsees are not accepting of conversion, can I even join the religion?
Zarathushtra: Not according to them, no.
Equinoxe: Then why are you here?
Zarathushtra: I heard there would be cake.
Equinoxe: Yes, there will be cake when the meeting is adjourned, but you’ll have to wait until then. What about the Zarathushtrian Assembly and their acceptance of conversion, that’s viable, no?
Zarathushtra: Yes, that’s a possible option, however, that still doesn’t change the fact that you’d just be irked by your general non-Persianness.
Equinoxe: You’re quite right, that would be a problem. Who is next? Ah, the Wiccans! The Chair recognises the Wiccan delegation.
Wiccan delegation: Thank the Goddess, we’ve been waiting a while.
Equinoxe: That brings me to my first question, you do know that you can’t just change English phrases like that and expect people to respond normally?
*Wiccan delegation responds in a cacophony of 'Yes' 'No' 'Maybe' 'What?' and 'I want cake'*
Equinoxe: Not really a decisive lot, are we?
*Wiccan delegation responds in a cacophony of 'Yes' 'No' 'Maybe' 'What?' and 'I want cake'*
Equinoxe: By the way, why do I get a delegation of random Gothic teenagers and twenty-somethings and not the Goddess, or at least Gerald Gardner?
Wiccan delegation: Who’s Gerald Gardner?
Equinoxe: Fine. What about the various historical inaccuracies with certain elements of the Neo-Pagan denominations: historical recreations of religions that never seemed to have existed, assigning beliefs to ethnic groups that never held such beliefs, the often lacking historical record of ancient Northern Europe, the outright fabrications of mediæval witch cults, and the general disregard for history?
The religion seems to often involve more pseudo-academic interest in Jungian-style archetypes and empty Masonic rituals to satisfy the need for rituals rather than a sincerely held belief. Do any of you actually believe in what you say you believe?
*long pause*
Wiccan delegation: We like playing Dungeons & Dragons a lot.
Equinoxe: Start worshipping Sune or Sharess and perhaps then we’ll talk. The Chair recognises the Rt. Hon. Thor, representative of the Asatruar.
Thor: With my mighty hammer Mjolnir, I shall sort out the evils of the world!
Equinoxe: Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. So, as the representative of Asgard and the worshippers of the Aesir and Vanir, what information do you have for us about your religion?
Thor: Asatru is a recreation of the ancient Germanic pagan religion, with the worship of its many Gods, usually in the form of sacrifices -- these days it tends to be offerings of beer or mead instead of pigs.
YHVH: Pigs were never acceptable in sacrifice to me!
Equinoxe: And I think that’s adorable, but it’s Thor’s turn to talk.
Thor: Asatruar have stuck closely to the available literature, the sagas of the Germanic peoples, in recreating the religion, so it is rather historically accurate.
Equinoxe: That’s good to know, other Neo-Pagans could learn something from that. *gestures towards the Wiccans who seem quite busy gathered around something*
Thor: Technically, many of our adherents prefer to call themselves Heathens.
Equinoxe: Fair enough, the point nevertheless holds.
*various dialogue from the Wiccan delegation, 'I cast magic missile,' 'I was slain by an elf,' 'Can I have a Mountain Dew?' etc.*
Equinoxe: I don’t really tend towards the Germanic, I tend to identify more as Celtic.
Thor: That’s probably not going to work then.
Equinoxe: Perhaps that’s for the best. The Chair recognises the Atheist delegation.
Atheists: You’ve been talking to yourself for a while, we were starting to worry.
Equinoxe: Shut up. So, you believe that there is no God or, in the case of some of you, you simply don’t believe in a God? The whole hard and soft atheism thing.
Atheists: Yes, we have no need for such fiction, we have science.
Equinoxe: You do understand that science is merely a human attempt to understand the world and not a dogmatic entity that exists independent of humans? You likewise realise that science has absolutely nothing to do with the existence of a deity, and that your disbelief is likewise purely a matter of faith?
Atheists: Cling to your fables!
Equinoxe: I may just! I’d rather have the whole delusional things going, your beliefs are frankly rather boring. Furthermore, you really have no reason to convert people, other than some smug self-satisfaction at someone else acknowledging that you’re right.
Atheists: What about all of the evils of religion? All the millions murdered by religion. If we get rid of religion, we get rid of such evil!
Equinoxe: What about Stalin and Mao? Both Atheists who killed around 70 million people combined. Religion is merely one way in which human beings justify their own evil actions, getting rid of religion won’t solve anything, it’ll just change the rationale. Rigid ideology is the problem, whether we’re talking the Crusades or Stalin’s Purges.
Atheists: ...We’re so lonely!
Equinoxe: Well thank you all, the meeting has been a huge waste of time. I’ll see you all again tomorrow, I believe there will be several delegations present that were missing today. Cake is down the hall and to the left.
As a forewarning, the following journal entry is relatively insulting to most religious groups and spiritual beliefs, with the potential exceptions of Buddhism and Zoroastrianism, but mostly in a lighthearted sort of way.
Imaginary minutes from the Equinoxe-Sorts-Out-Her-Religious-Beliefs Congress.
Today’s meeting of the Equinoxe-Sorts-Out-Her-Religious-Beliefs Congress has been called into session; is there any new business?
Delegates: No, there’s never any new business.
Equinoxe: Fantastic. The chair recognises the Rt. Hon. Delegate for Buddhism, Siddhartha Gautama.
The Buddha: The essence of Buddhism is expressed in the Four Noble truths. Firstly, that suffering is life.
Equinoxe: You’re off to an excellent start.
The Buddha: The cause of this suffering is attachment to worldly things.
Equinoxe: Okay, I agree with you, but what if I like things?
The Buddha: Well, we seek for the Middle Path, shunning the extremes of hedonism and asceticism.
Equinoxe: How about if I just sort of waver back and forth like a sine wave centred on the Middle Path?
The Buddha: That’s not really the idea.
Equinoxe: Damn. I suppose we shall have to move to the next delegate. What does Lao Tse have to say about the nature of life?
Lao Tse: The essence of Taoism is the eternal Tao, the balance of the universe.
Equinoxe: Balance sounds good, that would seem more dynamic.
Lao Tse: It is about the dualism and the complimentary nature of opposites, like the earth and the sky, or male and female.
Equinoxe: You lose points for the last example, but do go on.
Lao Tse: This is expressed in the concept of Yin and Yang. Yang represents most of the attributes that are historically considered positive, and masculinity. Yin represents most of the attributes that are historically considered negative, and femininity.
Equinoxe: All right-- let’s move on to the next delegate, shall we? The Chair recognises the Rt. Hon. Delegate for Judaism, YHVH; how do we pronounce that, what is Your name?
YHVH: I am that I am.
Equinoxe: Cute. What does Judaism have to offer me?
YHVH: I give you 613 mitzvot and you follow them, because you love me.
Equinoxe: Do I get anything in return for following these 613 rules?
YHVH: Millennia of suffering.
Equinoxe: So far we have a winner.
YHVH: But wait, there’s more! You get potential membership in your own country and all the bagels you can eat. Also, being a lesbian is mostly all right, or at least not technically wrong.
Equinoxe: I must say, things are looking good.
YHVH: Oh yeah, and none of this 'I’m Irish/Scottish' crap, you have to be a Jew, it has its own culture and language and everything.
Equinoxe: Do I get to magickally look Middle Eastern?
YHVH: No.
Equinoxe: So close... Still a strong contender though, we’ll see how things progress. All right, the Chair recognises the Rt. Hon. Mr. Jesus H. Christ.
Jesus (points at YHVH): He and I are the same person you know.
YHVH: No, no we’re not.
Jesus: Yeah, thanks dad.
*YHVH makes hand gestures of confusion and mouths, 'I don’t even know him'*
Equinoxe: Anyway, moving on!
Jesus: For the record, I’ll be speaking on behalf of the Catholics and maybe the Orthodox; I don’t know what went wrong with the Protestants.
Equinoxe: Fair enough, so what do you have to say about Christianity?
Jesus: In essence, the religion believes that I am God and is an attempt to form a sort of relationship.
Equinoxe: I don’t really see that being the case, what about the general moral teachings?
Jesus: Do onto others, as you would have them do onto you. This is a summary of all that is taught in the law and the prophets.
Equinoxe: That sounds rather enticing on paper, tell me more. They say you love everyone, do you?
Jesus: Except gay people, I’m told I hate them.
Equinoxe: How about if I completely ignore most of the moral elements and the various theological parts of the religion and use it solely as a quasi-impressionist attempt to acquire some semblance of divine contact through elaborate ritual and aesthetic forms?
Jesus: Works for most Catholics, I see no reason why you can't.
Equinoxe: Fantastic, I think you’ll be going in the maybe file. Let’s see, who do we have next? Ah yes, the chair recognises the Rt. Hon. Zarathushtra.
Zarathushtra: It’s a pleasure to be here. I’m glad you didn’t refer to me as Zoroaster.
Equinoxe: I know, damn Greeks; anyway, I’ve reviewed the literature, I am most pleased with many elements of the Gathas, including the general female-positive attitude, but I have a couple of questions.
Zarathushtra: I will do my best to answer them for you.
Equinoxe: Is joining the religion going to make me upset that I’m not Iranian, as per my continued childish fantasies?
Zarathushtra: Yes.
Equinoxe: A succinct and likely correct answer, but the Parsees are not accepting of conversion, can I even join the religion?
Zarathushtra: Not according to them, no.
Equinoxe: Then why are you here?
Zarathushtra: I heard there would be cake.
Equinoxe: Yes, there will be cake when the meeting is adjourned, but you’ll have to wait until then. What about the Zarathushtrian Assembly and their acceptance of conversion, that’s viable, no?
Zarathushtra: Yes, that’s a possible option, however, that still doesn’t change the fact that you’d just be irked by your general non-Persianness.
Equinoxe: You’re quite right, that would be a problem. Who is next? Ah, the Wiccans! The Chair recognises the Wiccan delegation.
Wiccan delegation: Thank the Goddess, we’ve been waiting a while.
Equinoxe: That brings me to my first question, you do know that you can’t just change English phrases like that and expect people to respond normally?
*Wiccan delegation responds in a cacophony of 'Yes' 'No' 'Maybe' 'What?' and 'I want cake'*
Equinoxe: Not really a decisive lot, are we?
*Wiccan delegation responds in a cacophony of 'Yes' 'No' 'Maybe' 'What?' and 'I want cake'*
Equinoxe: By the way, why do I get a delegation of random Gothic teenagers and twenty-somethings and not the Goddess, or at least Gerald Gardner?
Wiccan delegation: Who’s Gerald Gardner?
Equinoxe: Fine. What about the various historical inaccuracies with certain elements of the Neo-Pagan denominations: historical recreations of religions that never seemed to have existed, assigning beliefs to ethnic groups that never held such beliefs, the often lacking historical record of ancient Northern Europe, the outright fabrications of mediæval witch cults, and the general disregard for history?
The religion seems to often involve more pseudo-academic interest in Jungian-style archetypes and empty Masonic rituals to satisfy the need for rituals rather than a sincerely held belief. Do any of you actually believe in what you say you believe?
*long pause*
Wiccan delegation: We like playing Dungeons & Dragons a lot.
Equinoxe: Start worshipping Sune or Sharess and perhaps then we’ll talk. The Chair recognises the Rt. Hon. Thor, representative of the Asatruar.
Thor: With my mighty hammer Mjolnir, I shall sort out the evils of the world!
Equinoxe: Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. So, as the representative of Asgard and the worshippers of the Aesir and Vanir, what information do you have for us about your religion?
Thor: Asatru is a recreation of the ancient Germanic pagan religion, with the worship of its many Gods, usually in the form of sacrifices -- these days it tends to be offerings of beer or mead instead of pigs.
YHVH: Pigs were never acceptable in sacrifice to me!
Equinoxe: And I think that’s adorable, but it’s Thor’s turn to talk.
Thor: Asatruar have stuck closely to the available literature, the sagas of the Germanic peoples, in recreating the religion, so it is rather historically accurate.
Equinoxe: That’s good to know, other Neo-Pagans could learn something from that. *gestures towards the Wiccans who seem quite busy gathered around something*
Thor: Technically, many of our adherents prefer to call themselves Heathens.
Equinoxe: Fair enough, the point nevertheless holds.
*various dialogue from the Wiccan delegation, 'I cast magic missile,' 'I was slain by an elf,' 'Can I have a Mountain Dew?' etc.*
Equinoxe: I don’t really tend towards the Germanic, I tend to identify more as Celtic.
Thor: That’s probably not going to work then.
Equinoxe: Perhaps that’s for the best. The Chair recognises the Atheist delegation.
Atheists: You’ve been talking to yourself for a while, we were starting to worry.
Equinoxe: Shut up. So, you believe that there is no God or, in the case of some of you, you simply don’t believe in a God? The whole hard and soft atheism thing.
Atheists: Yes, we have no need for such fiction, we have science.
Equinoxe: You do understand that science is merely a human attempt to understand the world and not a dogmatic entity that exists independent of humans? You likewise realise that science has absolutely nothing to do with the existence of a deity, and that your disbelief is likewise purely a matter of faith?
Atheists: Cling to your fables!
Equinoxe: I may just! I’d rather have the whole delusional things going, your beliefs are frankly rather boring. Furthermore, you really have no reason to convert people, other than some smug self-satisfaction at someone else acknowledging that you’re right.
Atheists: What about all of the evils of religion? All the millions murdered by religion. If we get rid of religion, we get rid of such evil!
Equinoxe: What about Stalin and Mao? Both Atheists who killed around 70 million people combined. Religion is merely one way in which human beings justify their own evil actions, getting rid of religion won’t solve anything, it’ll just change the rationale. Rigid ideology is the problem, whether we’re talking the Crusades or Stalin’s Purges.
Atheists: ...We’re so lonely!
Equinoxe: Well thank you all, the meeting has been a huge waste of time. I’ll see you all again tomorrow, I believe there will be several delegations present that were missing today. Cake is down the hall and to the left.
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Nirvanadragones
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2005
- Posts
- 14,399
That, is incredible!Equinoxe said:
Now, submit it.
