A Question for Me...

Recently, I received a letter from a new friend who, like me, is of the "bent hippie persuasion". I was kind of surprised by her letter because it was an issue I hadn't thought about for a long long time. I guess over the years I've become inured to so many things... the narrow attitudes of the masses being one of them. So, I took her question to heart, thinking about it for several days before answering. Here's our "conversation":

Her: I've got a question for you, my friend. When exactly did it happen that "hippie" became a dirty word, synonymous with "unwashed loser" with today's youth? I mean I remember back in the day the "older generation" thinking that of us, but when the hell and HOW did it happen that the younger people became the ones looking down their noses at us? And how the heck did the younger kids make this transformation into conservatives? If you had told me back in the 70's that this would happen, I'd have told you there was no way, not ever.
It's weird, isn't it? I used to think the hippie "brand" was more about our beliefs and ideals, and I thought the message would last a while. Now it just seems to mean you're a "patchouli stinking, tree hugging liberal" LOL, which I guess in my case isn't that far off, since I do still love patchouli and have been recycling since long before it became a curbside City service. But when did it become such a derogatory term? I thought that mindset would end with our parents' generation, didn't you?
*sigh* Oh well.

To which I responded:

I don't really know how to answer your question...
I remember when I was young, that was how people reacted to all of us. We were hippies... freaks... cut from the herd. I never cared, because among those hippies and freaks and unwanted, I found peace and acceptance... welcome. I found a mindset that resembled my own. I was proud then to be counted among them as I am proud now of who and what I am.
Some years ago, I discovered a need to distance myself from society at large. Too many cruel people seem to be attracted to those who are more "sensitive". Not long after, I discovered my "inner bitch"! LOL I developed a harsh facade to the world at large and kept the true "me" for the circle of "strange and unusual" friends that I have collected around me. At times, there are many many people within that circle. At other times, there are so few that the place echoes. But it's okay... The love and support remains.
Lately, I've realized that I am the type of person that needs to be among other people, so I've gradually "broadened my scope". Remember those hippie days of people watching? I've refined it to an art form and, combined with my totally bent sense of humor, I find that I can go out... and LAUGH! Yes, I laugh at all of those who would denigrate me for who and what I am. How can I do this? Because (for the most part) I am at peace with that part of me... I've embraced it until it fills me. Within that place inside is love and acceptance, my faith with our Creator.
Do you remember the prose that was so popular back then, "Desiderata"? Read it over and over until it's a part of you. More important words have never been spoken.
BTW, Sweet Patchouli oil is the only fragrance that I still wear... I was one of the originators of our high school ecology club... And I threaten severe torture to anyone within my sight who doesn't "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" or REPAIR! *grin* Yes, I will forever be that patchouli-wearing, tree-hugging, multi-pierced, lightly tattooed, freaky lady! But... You want to hear something amazing? My adult kids are proud of the me I am! Amazing. Isn't it?

I guess that my point is... I don't really care what most people think of me. The opinion that matters is that of those I choose to carry in my life: those I love, those I admire, those from whom I wish to learn. Of the others? There will always be malcontents who seek to belittle the unique that walk this world. I feel rather sorry for them because their world-view is so narrow. Can you imagine all that they miss? And when they become arrogant? I laugh... and laugh and laugh and laugh.

PEACE!

Superwoman

I recently had a friend call me, distraught, because she thought she was an unfit mother. Her 9 year old daughter was constantly nagging her that she was bored and wanted to play/be entertained. My friend felt that she was somehow lacking because she didn't WANT to play with her child all of the time and hadn't the patience to play game after game with her. This brought to mind an article I read some years ago about how today's women are immediately set up to be failures by our society's definition of a "complete woman".

The modern woman must have a career (not a job, a CAREER), marry or cohab with some similarly career-oriented partner, own and maintain the perfect home, have 2.5 children (how do you have half a child?) who are perfectly mannered and with whom family time is all the time they're together, and be a member of the homeowners association, the PTA, and a half dozen charitable organizations. Good God!!! I couldn't do it... Don't know anyone who can.

Year after year, I watch women actually try to attain this impossible goal... Why? When do these superwomen have time to be a PERSON? I'm sorry, but I believe that definition of a modern woman is a load of crap.

First of all (I can hear the protests now), most women cannot have a career and raise a child without one hell of a support network. In the formative years, a child simply needs too much bonding time. He/she needs that sense of security that mom or dad are going to be there for them at a specific time each day as well as for the school play or the baseball game or when they're ill, etc. Careers negate the ability to have this time (be honest, you know it does).

In anthropology, we learn that it takes a village to raise a child. It's a solid truth. And the head of that village needs to be a parent. Typically, this task falls to the mom (although dads are taking part more and more). To be healthy and secure, any child needs that structure and dependability.

And who decided that we need to "entertain" our children??? *add in your swear word of choice* How can we expect our young ones to develop initiative and imagination if we're constantly providing them with whatever stimulus is in demand at the moment? Even worse is the idea to set them in front of a computer or tv! What happened to puzzles, coloring books, playsets, and... OMG... BOOKS???

Perhaps I was lucky in my children. My oldest could go to his room for hours and play and play and play... Star Wars, Thundercats, Transformers, workbooks, and books to read... Together, we'd do puzzles and a few games or watch 1 or 2 tv shows together. He was such an easy wonderful child to have! My daughter was my son's pride and joy. She was "his baby". Her first belly laughs were caused by her big brother. He led her on adventures all throughout the house and yard. They were best friends in those first few years. My youngest was a repeat of his brother with the added bonus that he had two older siblings who doted on him.

I didn't even realize until my children were grown that I really haven't a penchant for the whole "having kids" thing! Nope. Really. As a group, I don't care for kids. Sacrilege, I know. Now, individually, I love the littles that are in my life. For a short bit of time... After that, I'm clueless. Don't know what to do with them and hanging them from the rafters is frowned upon. However, I must emphatically state at this time that my one grandson has me firmly wrapped around his little finger... which is a huge surprise to me! LOL He owns my heart and I miss him unbearably.

But what about this whole thing that a woman isn't complete unless she HAS at least one child? Hello??? Talk about a stupid idea. I know several women who are perfectly content with their lives not wrapped around their child's latest triumph or downfall. They are happy and complete in and of themselves without all of the labels society insists they wear.

This is the important thing regardless of which or how many hats you chosen take on... to be content with the person you are. Society's expectations are ridiculous. If you really think about it, they usually are. Be yourself. Define yourself. Seek your own goals, those that stem from your heart. And if you happen to decide that running a company and baking cupcakes at midnight are your cup of tea, go for it! I'll be here to catch you when you keel over from exhaustion.

PEACE!

Hilarious Stuff Someone Else Wrote...

Okay... Recently, a friend from college found me on Facebook (Yea, I'm one of THOSE people... the ones who can't get enough online time! LOL). "Hi, Elodie!" Anyway, she turned me on to an incredible bit from a blogger who is no longer with us (so very sad since these are truly wonderful and completely bent) as well as one of hers. I wanted to take this chance to share with you some incredible humor, so I'm going to simply copy and paste what Elodie sent to me:

"Okay. I'm going to have to leave you with a laugh. A few years ago I ran across the funniest, smartest human being I have or ever will meet -- a writer who went by the moniker "Skonk" on a writers' discussion board. Never met the guy but I lived for his posts. Without fail, he could make me laugh right out loud in an empty room.

Anyway, that comment you made about the goldfish? Way back around the year 2000, I had run across this list of factoids, one of which was the one about goldfish only having three-second memories.

Not 10 minutes after I'd posted the list, Skonk replied with the following: (please excuse formatting errors)

~~ begin quote ~~Due to this list, I got a myself a brand-new perspective on the lives of my pets. I used to have a big fat goldfish named Slappy McPoop who died recently. Raised him from a pup, and even though he had a severe bipolar disorder, he was a GOOD fish. One of the best I ever had.

Stuffing that bloated bastard down the garbage disposal was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Generally speaking, I give my dead fish the standard Big Flush sendoff, but Slappy was just too big to fit down the hole in the shitter.

Couldn't even make the bastard go down by poking him with the toilet brush. And since it seemed disrespectful to just toss him in the garbage like a bag of uneaten leftovers (after all, he was a PET of mine), I decided to commit his mortal remains to the gnashing blades of my trusty In-Sink-Er-Ator. It was as close as I could come to a burial at sea. And wherever Slappy McPoop is right now, I'm sure he appreciates the gesture.

Problem is, I didn't know he'd croaked for a day or so, and by the time I scooped him outa the tank the other guys had already been eating on him a little.

So I figure they prolly got most of the tasty parts, and anything I tossed in the pot would be the nasty stuff even stupid fish wouldn't touch. Same reason I didn't mount him on a plaque and hang it in the den. He was looking pretty bad by the time I got to him.

But I still felt sorry for the OTHER fish. Like, they had to stay in the tank with their dead friend A LONG TIME before I scooped him out, and it must have been pretty traumatic for them. But if goldfish can only remember stuff for three seconds, it means they're probably over it by now.

The surviving fish probably HAVE gotten over the trauma by now, but how about the five or six hours they had to spend swimming around with one of their brethren who'd gone belly up? I mean, think of the whole thing from the viewpoint of a goldfish in an enclosed tank with a three-second memory:


Hey, this is cool. The tank is full, the water is clean, and what's this? Looks like some gravel down here. Wonder what's in it? Hey, check it out. That looks like food. Maybe I'll give it a taste and see
if it's good. Hmmm, not bad, kinda tastes like.... hey what's that over there?

HOLY SHIT IT'S A DEAD GUY! HEY, SOMEBODY GET OVER HERE AND GET THIS GUY OUT OF HERE, WILLYA? JESUS CHRIST, THIS IS AN AQUARIUM, NOT A....

...clue as to what that thing in the corner is.

Hey, check it out! A little deep-sea diver with bubbles coming out of him. Pretty cute. I wonder if he's food? Guess I could taste him, if I can get around this... THIS DEAD GUY! HOLY SHIT, THERE'S A DEAD GUY IN HERE! HEY, YOU WITH THE NET! WHEN YOU GET A MINUTE, YOU WANNA SEE IF YOU CAN HAUL THIS ROTTING CORPSE OUT OF MY LIVING SPACE?

I MEAN, WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ONE OF YOUR BUDDIES DIED IN YOUR LA-Z-BOY, JUST LEAVE THE FUCKER SITTING THERE? HAVE A HEART, YOU IGNORANT BASTARD! WE GOTTA....

...look around at the bottom of the tank here, see if we can find something to eat. Hey, that looks like food over there. Or maybe it's poop. But I guess I can taste it and find out. If I can get around this stupid bubbling deep-sea diver. I wonder what people are thinking when they buy ridiculous toys like that? Maybe they think we get bored swimming around all day with nothing to look at but gravel and...

*A DEAD GUY! HOLY SHIT, THERE'S A FUCKING DEAD GUY IN HERE! AND I ALMOST TOUCHED HIM! CHRIST, IT MAKES ME WANT TO TAKE A SHOWER OR WASH MY HANDS OR SOMETHING, BUT I JUST REALIZED I'M A FISH IN A TANK FULL OF WATER AND SOMEDAY THAT COULD BE ME FLOATING AROUND LIKE A BAG OF GARBAGE!

OH WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO SEE SOMETHING LIKE THAT JUST WHEN I'M STARTING TO FEEL GOOD ABOUT MYSELF? IS LIFE REALLY THAT FLEETING AND MEANINGLESS, OR ARE WE ALL INTEGRAL PARTS OF THE RICH TAPESTRY OF LIFE THAT CYCLES ENDLESSLY THROUGH TIME, WITH EACH GENERATION MAKING IT'S OWN CONTRIBUTION TO...

...poop? That sure LOOKS like a piece a poop down there, but it might be food. I suppose I could taste it and find out...

But I really DID stop and wonder how many times the other fish were freshly traumatized, if they kept forgetting the original trauma every three seconds? Fifty times? A hundred? Spooky.

On the other hand, I remind myself that the surviving guys had also started eating on Slappy by the time I hauled him out of there, and if the three-second rule DOES apply, it means that by now they've forgotten about fact that they're cannibals. So I guess it balances out. ~~ end quote

Skonk died of lung cancer about three years ago. I cried for days. Heck to see how upset I was? You'd think I really knew him or something. I didn't. But I miss him and his hilarity more than I can say."

And Elodie's next post was:

"I wrote this after Skonk died. Skonk also used the pen name John Pelligrino: Fin

Slappy McPoop peered through the tank at the door.

"It'll open any minute now. You'll see," he said. He watched the doorknob, willing it to turn with his mind, believing that any minute now it would, indeed, turn.

"You've been saying that for a long time, now, sucker," said Dood. He should've been here ages ago. I'm telling you, He's not coming. He's forgotten us."

"Quit calling me that," said Slappy. I'm a goldfish, not a suckerfish."

"For a goldfish, you're the blackest, fattest bastard I've ever seen," said Dood. Dood always seemed to attack whenever he was hungry.

"Besides," said Slappy, "He'll be here. Pelligrino always comes. You've just got to have faith."

"So where is He? Doesn't He know we're waiting? Doesn't He know we're hungry?"

"Now, see? That's your problem right there," said Slappy. "Oh, ye of little faith. Of course He knows! Pelligrino knows. He knows everything! Sees everything! Provides everything. Pelligrino is Father of Waters. He is everywhere. And if He's not here yet, it's because He sees your doubt."

The filter hummed its humming noise and little bubbles rose from the treasure chest in the bottom of the tank.

"Dood, He's testing you. And the fact that He isn't here yet is because you don't believe."

Slappy swam in little circles along the surface of the water with a smug expression on his big bulging eyes. "Just look at yourself, Dood. Look around you. You've got this big cushy tank with a Visi-Therm deluxe heater, Whisper Clean Power Filter, Perfecto full aquarium hood with fluorescent light, fuscia-colored gravel with SeaChem substrates, all this lovely plastic seaweed and your own personal grotto to hide out in when you're feeling blue. We've even got that little treasure chest with the scuba diver you like so much."

He continued. "You think all this makes you something special? You with your longer-than-three-second memory. You with your keen fish's intellect, your bubbly personality. It's not what you've got that makes you special, Dood," said Slappy. "Faith in Pelligrino. It's faith that separates us from the school. It's faith that sets us apart from the sea monkeys. It's..."

"But I'm hungry," whined Dood. "I want something to eat. And my left fin is driving me crazy. It itches like a sonofabitch. Hey. Take a look. Do you see anything?"

Slappy eyed Dood's fin. "Ick!"

"Hey, man. No reason to poke fun. This is serious."

"No, you bubblehead. That's what you've got. Ick. It's a condition."

"A condition?" Dood's heart skipped a beat. "You mean like a disease?"

"Yeah. Remember when Kerplunk went belly up in the tank that time? Pelligrino got the net and Kerplunk went in seine?"

"Yeah. I do remember that."

"It was ick. Remember how his fins got all spotted?"

"Oh, God," said Dood. He began to hyperventilate, his gills opening and closing much too fast.

"You've got spots, just like Kerplunk," he said. "Pelligrino took him and put him in the throne to sit under Him. Someday we all go in seine. Sooner or later, you go. I go. And if you've been a good fish, Pelligrino takes you to the throne to sit underneath Him, too. If not? It's the In-Sinkerator. So if you know what's good for you, you'll stop with all this negativity. You are one sick guppy."

"Don't call me a guppy, you sucker."

"You don't see me with spots on MY fins. Think about THAT for awhile...Guppy."

"Sucker."

"Blowfish."

A fat, salty tear started down Slappy McPoop's face.

Dood sighed. "This isn't right, man. I'm sorry. Just because Pelligrino hasn't come yet is no reason to go on a feeding frenzy with your best friend. I mean, all we've got is each other. We should love each other. You know? Just because."

Slappy sniffed and smiled sadly.

"Each other and Pelligrino," Slappy added, smiling beatifically.

Dood peered through the glass darkly. It seemed as though the algae had been building up for awhile. He couldn't make out the door quite as well as before. He beat mightily on the glass. "Oh, why? Why?"

"Ours is not to ask the reason," said Slappy. It is not for us to understand His ways. Everything happens for a reason. If I were you, I'd get busy and pray."

Then turning his eyes doorward, Slappy bubbled forth: "Oh, mighty Pelligrino, harbinger of all good things, scraper of algae, bringer of brine, forgive us, miserable servants of the deep. Bathe us in forgiveness and wash us of our sins that we may better serve You in Your Infinite Wisdom and Mercy. Amen."

Dood just watched. Then turning, he swam into the grotto where he could be alone and try to forget the hunger gnawing at his belly and the itching in his armpit.

Meanwhile Slappy swam back and forth, back and forth in the tank looking at the door. Watching. Waiting. Swimming.

"Pelligrino? Where are you, man? Skonk?"

~~ Fin Fin"

Hope you enjoy that as much as I did! LMAO

PEACE!