Making up for Lost Time

I am finally rid of The Evile She-Cat from Hell. Oh....that's right. I Didn't tell y'all about 'TESCFE'. Well......

Silly me. I volunteered to adopt a cat from a 'friend' who was moving. Alas, the cat is a breed that doesn't work and play well with other cats. And I already had one of those "other cats". Sill, silly, me.

Long story short....

New cat makes war on old cat. Old cat becomes basket case. Human achieves state of "Holy Piss-Off." New cat is returned to 'friend' from whom it came.

Right..........

Now that we have made it past THAT nasty little episode, the old cat is making up for lost time by sucking as much attention as possible from The Human.

Lucky, lucky human.

Visitors, Coffee and getting back on track

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A lesson on focus

I made it back to the gym today. Yea me! This is the second time since I got home from Texas and came down with that cold last month.

I can tell I am out of shape. My first trip to the gym, after 20 minutes I had to switch from running to walking. On this trip, I was ready to make the switch at 30 minutes. (My workout runs 40 minutes.)

But then something happened.

A pair of young ladies entered the section of the gym in front of my workout station. As one of them lay down on the abs machine, her shorts fell to the side and I saw the promised land shielded in white cotton. Yea, verily, it was more panty that I have seen in months. It was just the portion of the panty I would view if given the choice. Yum. It was beautiful.

For the next ten minutes of my workout, as the two girls continued to tempt me with occasional glimpses of white, my attention was no longer on my toiling legs or burning lungs. There was no call to walk instead of run. No. My attention was elsewhere.

Bon Voyage

Eartha Kitt performed in France, in French, just as she did in a number of countries and languages. A child of the sixties, I first fell in love with her in her role as Catwoman. Only much later was I educated about the wider and deeper accomplishments of this amazing woman.

Good voyage.

Vous êtes aimés

[Don't] walk this way

[seed paragraph]
I feel better when I act and think like the image of the man that I think I should be. If I can change "think I can be" into "Will to be", and put some work into it, what will happen?

My first inclination is to stick to my comfort level. Here in the wilds of Oakland, this means sticking to the apartment and not interacting with others. So the first few times I had to venture out into the wider world I resisted. This sounds silly. But it is reality. Somewhere in there I mused about the man I should be, as opposed to the man I am. What would he do and feel? He would pick up that phone, or leave that apartment, and interact. I have said this before (maybe using other words or images) but this is the man I want to be. What needs to be realized in this is that the concept of "the man I need to be" extends so far beyond just picking up a phone or walking into a small situation. It extends into pursuing a course at work, or building a proper environment at home, or establishing proper relationship with friends and families. Is this the Big Thing to focus on during this years Tour?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Yesterday I tried walking the 'wrong' direction around Lake Merritt. The lake is a popular venue for exercise - jogging, walking and rowing. The vast majority of walkers and joggers circle the lake traveling clockwise. I walked counter-clockwise.

Walking the wrong way makes it easier to move out of the way. A person who likes eye contact has at least a chance to indulge. There are fewer surprises from people sneaking up from behind.

Walking the 'right' way, I get to look at Ass instead of Breast. I prefer Ass. There are no accusing eyes glaring at me for staring at the body. An ass walking the same direction stays in view much longer than breasts walking the other way.

In defiance of all the contrarians out there, I now declare that there is value in going along with the crowd.

Calling in sick (private)

I called in sick today. I am sick, but being sick isn't why I called in sick.

The reason I call in sick is from lack of sleep. I get no sleep because I am up all night. I am up all night because I am coughing all night. I am coughing all night because I am sick. But I can't 'call in sleep deprived', so I 'call in sick.'

Exercise? I am not working out - can't run while coughing, can't lift weights when shivering and aching.

Spirit? There is limited magick. While the LBRP sounds cool when bumped down a half octave, it sounds crappy when whispered and raspy.

Lisa was in an accident this week and totaled her car. She has no money coming in. I have a divorce decree looming in the wings. I am now researching the best way to survive a foreclosure. I have mixed feelings on this. It would be nice to skate out of the problem, and leave the mortgage company holding the bag. But 'nice' doesn't overlap with reality, or with my ethics. I know what I want, but I don't know what my other options are. As soon as I return from vacation I am going to have a little talk with the mortgage company. We could pull this out of the fire, but it may require a small miracle.

I will be buying a few lottery tickets while in California...

Full weekend coming up. Taking The Grrls to the airport. Repairs and cleaning in Tooele. Packing for vacation. Cleaning upstairs at mom's place.

Ouch - Installments 2 thru 6 of 10

Still doing the structural. Last week, working the sacrum, was interesting. It really rose to bit me when I attempted to work out Tuesday night. It wasn't happening. I let my body rest.

The latest session was face and neck. I am amazed at how far a finger can go up my nose. Not even my finger.

I am coping (poorly) with the exercises the therapist wants me to do. It reminds me of the physical therapist for my knee many years ago. I did the math and figured he wanted me to spend about three hours a day just doing therapy for the knee. This was not a short term thing, but 'forever', and as knees go, my problems were minor. In all fairness, I took what he taught me, applied it with long term success, and have avoided surgery for over ten years now. Yea me.

Will I do the same with the structural exercises? Time will tell.

Built for Speed(o)

Tonight I have the first of ten Structural Integration sessions. I've been through this before, but in a classroom setting. This time is 'for real'. Pain. Yum.

The therapist informed me I needed to buy a Speedo to wear during the sessions - or something else that covers as little skin as possible while still reigning in the fun bits. Just as there are certain women who should never, ever, in a million years wear Spandex, there are certain men who should never come within miles of a Speedo. I am one of those men. But my therapist is a trained professional who works with the human body in its many shapes, sizes and variations. I'm sure she will handle it all with professional calm.

Right.

In other news, I seem to be running out of steam on a few fronts. Lack of focus. Effort that returns little or nothing (personal, job, etc.). Adding Structural Integration to the mix may not have been a good idea. It becomes just one more thing to be done every week, and more time away from grappling with my miserable little life.

In some cases, I just need to re-direct or renew focus. In other cases, I may need to drop a few things. No new projects. Drop some old projects. Learn to say "No." Catch up on sleep. Catch up on reading and cleaning. I am just so weary of life, and I need to direct more of my time and energies into myself - into my core.

I am tired of the standard of the standard conversation. "How are you?" "Fine." I am not 'fine.' I am frustrated and lonely. I am angry. Nothing I do pleases anyone, not even myself. There is too much giving and not enough getting in my life. Rant. Moan. Complain.

Whine and Moan

Near the end of Pagan Pride I spied a familiar face - "The Guitar Instructor". I called his name, he came and talked, we played catch-up. Then, after he talked much of other peoples' music projects he was helping on, I asked the fatal question: "So how is _your_ music going?"

Ouch.

It was a classic Deer in the Headlights moment. He stammered a bit, then blathered about a few things I could tell were either stillborn or fantasy, then the conversation ended.

I could laugh at him. Or I could see the fingers that point back to me.

- September wrap-up
For the month of September I set a goal of Daily Practice and Work Out of 20 days from the month. It was going fine until the last few days of the month, so I ended up with 18 and 19 respectively. The last few days of the month threw me a few curves.

My plans to lose weight was mixed success. I was supposed to be down to 198, but missed it by a few pounds. On the other hand, I did drop a few pounds. The first few pounds of a 'losing streak' always works like this, so I'll take it as a success and keep working my plan. The daily practice did me some good. But the women in my life chose the week just past to fire a few emotional barrages at me, and that derailed my practice. Such is life.

I am going to give myself a pass for the weekend, then start back on track tomorrow (Monday). The effort to lose weight will continue unchanged. Daily practice will be split between Yoga and reviewing, then learning, the basic CM and Thelemic rituals.

Horus Oasis is both moving forward and annoying the hell out of me. We finally ironed over most of the PayPal issues. I did an initial sifting through the crap than Fr CF handed over to me. Then I defined the next steps to take. I'll go over some of this with B on Tuesday. It will all be good.

Women are evil. Do I want to delve into detail, or just hit the highlights? Hmmmm.....

[Highlights redacted.]

These people all tell me I am such a wonderful guy. Then they treat me like ass-wipe. Or am I just imagining things?

Growl. Snort.

It's dead, Jim!!!!

The verdict is in. The VW Cabriolet is dead. Leaking oil into the cylinders, and coolant into the oil. I am going to get a quote on an engine exchange or rebuild, but I doubt it will be within the realm of what I can do.

It has been a damned frustrating week, turning into an equally frustrating weekend. The constant sense of frustration that always lurks in the basement of my psyche took a larger share of control this week. I didn't go to the gym, and only did one partial workout at home. I spent much of my time at home doing little that mattered. I lacked focus at work and accomplished less than I should have.

With the start of the weekend, I got some of my traction back, but the steering failed. I started putting effort into things that weren't priorities. When I tried to change focus to the things that do matter, I got stuck. And here I am - stuck.

Having said this, I stop and look back at the last 48 hours and change my evaluation. I spent some time being stuck, I spent some time doing things that don't matter, I also accomplished things that do matter. But the feeling that stays with me and tends to define my weekend is, "I'm stuck".

Frustrating.

I am leaving now so I can accomplish one or two more things on "The List".

A bad case of Shingles

This weekend, I went from the top of the world down to the very depths. ...from replacing shingles on the roof in Tooele to dealing with raw sewage in the basement of my mother's house.

A few weeks ago a storm blew through Tooele. And blew, and blew and blew. The wind separated many small things from the houses they were attached to - such as shingles, siding, doors and windows. Fences were blown over. Trampolines were tossed about. Trees were uprooted. Across the street from the Tooele house, three grand old pines were toppled like dominoes. A string of telephone poles south of town were snapped in half like matches.

I was initially told that the shingles in the yard came from the neighbors place. Wrong. The repairs cost less than $40, but it took a day from my life and left a raw patch on my butt cheek. I learned that I am not quite over my fear of heights, but that I'm not as bad as I used to be. I learned that wind torn shingles like to fold in the middle then tear off - not blow off in one piece. I learned how to carefully pull nails under existing shingles, then slide the replacements up underneath them. I learned that repairing roofing is a helluva lot more work than installing roofing.

And I learned that if you spend the day with one butt cheek supporting your weight on asphalt shingles, it will be pretty and red and raw and it won't let you sleep for two nights in a row.

This was on Saturday, January 19th. Two days later, we got 6 inches of snow. For once, the universe arranged for things to happen in the correct order.

Before leaving for Tooele, I noticed the drains backing up in the basement. I hoped to ignore it for a few days before dealing with it. Poor choice. So on Monday, the plumber was there to root it all out. In the past the problem has been the line out to the street, with access from the driveway. This time, it was in the house under the concrete floor. It was rooted out, and toilets could once more be flushed without fear. But when I went to clean the floor (ick), the floor drain.....didn't. So out came the snake, and I got to clear that one on my own. Either I had two blockages that just happened to happen at the same time, or one blockage that was where the two lines join. Either way, it works now. Between the "roof tar clothing" and the "raw sewage clothing" I had an interesting load on laundry to do.

Brought to you by the letter "L"

Lorna, Loraine, Lisa, Liz.

Listed in order of appearance in my life.

Lorna - Met her at a few PUC (Pagan Utah Cooperative) events. 12 years my junior. A work in progress.

Loraine - Utah valley pagan. Held the "Art of Understanding" meetings. Don't really know her that well.

Lisa - The not-girlfriend. Met her at work. Carpooled. Turned into something more than a carpool. I love her, but it is a love full of pain.

Liz - A 26 year old ship that crossed the wake of a 42 year old man. Things happened. There was pleasure. There was pain. There were lessons learned.

Each of these women was met in a TOTALLY SEPARATE VENUE and at a totally separate time. And yet.....

Liz introduced me to her friend Art. Art was a musician. Art died in an automobile accident.

Loraine was also a friend of Art. After Art died, she bought his piano from the family. Then she moved, and didn't have room for it. So, through her fiance Matt, she found a place to keep it. In the home of the mother of Matt's friend, Drew. But Drew doesn't go by the name Drew - he likes to be called Lotus.

Lisa didn't want a freaking piano. But her son Drew dumped it on her anyway. Darn.

Now I am moving the piano back to Loraine's storage unit.

Matt, before he met Loraine, was engaged to marry Lorna. As you might guess, it didn't work out.

This all goes to show that Utah County is just to damned small.

Checking in with Warren Jeffs

Long time no post.

For starters, I am creating a separate blog for the Body Master portion of my life. This will begin life in the Wordpress blog on the family web site - www.thedisposable.net/wordpress. [ed. - the masters blog is now defunct] As I get the web site fleshed out, and as I get the new Horus site up and going, the URL and such will change. For now the Body Master blog will also be my experiment in figuring out all things Wordpress.

My older sister made a comment to my mother recently, and it filtered back to me. She said that, except for the sex part, I was living a good polygamist lifestyle. I laughed. Taking that and running with it, I'll now update my life based on the women I am putting my energies into. They will be dealt with in alphabetical order.

Holly and Beverly
The girls did not-Gnostic Mass last night, with me as Deacon. It was good to spend time with them. It was good to feel that Mass energy again.

After mass I surprised myself by having a typical monkey reaction to a small event. Dylan and Holly sat next to each other, front to back, and did the hug-you hold-you thing. I do believe a bolt of jealousy struck my soul. I acknowledged the jealousy, gave it the honor it was due, then released it by confessing to it. But it still surprised me.

We are getting back into the swing of routine, not the least of which is working on The Eternal Kitchen Project. In the last few weeks enough was done that I may have to drop a word and just call it The Kitchen Project. It was with great gusto that I drilled holes in the pure pristine wall so we could mount the shelf supports.

Kate
Nothing much to report here. She is all about school and arranging repairs and improvements on the house. This leaves little time and energy to spend on other things, so there isn't much to report. This is as it should be. But there was some hinting of a car needing to be delivered to Glendale. Maybe I could hitch a ride and say hello?

Kathleen
She has a couple of good job prospects in the works. The least attractive of them all is still better than what she is doing now. Unisys really needs to buy a clue. If they aren't making money on Dell warranty work - and I know how much Dell is paying them for each call - then there is something massively wrong in the overhead. So, like any good corporation, then try to solve the problem by investing in more overhead and squeeze the difference from the people who do the real work.

Lisa
Ouch. My back, my legs, my feet. Hurts so good. Three cheers for structural integration. But she and I seem to be growing apart as friends. We need to reconnect. I was going to make a stab at it this weekend, but there is just too much to do here in Provo.

I did try calling and talking to her, but she was busy. She would call me 'right back'. Not likely. Maybe trying to reconnect would be a waste of effort. But I'll try anyway.

Melinda
She's presenting a paper in New Mexico in January. Wow. I'm stunned. I asked her a bit about it. I forget most of what she told me, but I remember vividly her enthusiasm as she spoke. Wow.

Shannon
She is still having a hard time interfacing with the universe. But nightly check-in seems to be helping. She got a really nice edition of the Egyptian Book of the Dead as an early birthday gift from some friends. She let me actually hold it and look at it.

Did I leave anyone out? Probably.

Up periscope

Too damn busy to make a meaningful entry. Mostly "good busy", so no whining allowed. Maybe I'll do a brain dump this weekend. In the mean time...

Some friends are back in town.
Lisa is re-arranging my anatomy (Structural Integration).
Kathleen is - finally - jumping from the sinking ship that is her current employer and getting a new job.
My job is getting interesting.
Green tomato relish.

Still thinking

Musings first....

So I've had the "doing by non-action" of the Tao rolling around in my head. Rolling with it are some of the other pairings of thought posted recently. In this state of mind, while reading from Magick Without Tears, I run across definitions...

"To fill the mind entirely with one thing, to the exclusion of all else: This is Magick."

"To empty the mind of all: This is Yoga."

(I paraphrase.)

I didn't read any further (mostly due to external circumstance). But it all fit together. There was this little collision where I thought, "But in the O.T.O. system of MAGICK, the first instruction and practice is YOGA." And before the dust had time to clear, I understood. The mind cannot be fully filled with one thing, until it is FIRST emptied of all that is not the one thing. Yoga is the door to Magick. Didn't I write in one of my journals years ago about the need to banish before one can invoke? And also of the futility of a banishing that isn't followed by an invocation?

Musings are done, now the Monkey Politics

The angst of a few weeks ago has mostly either subsided or transformed. In the case of Lorna, after realizing that I needed to polity tell her that she needed to either go away or bring something to the exchange of energies, she managed to go away.

With the grrls in Salt Lake (the one where I have no freaking idea what to do), I had to cancel a last session before they went out of town, and now I have until mid-October to stew over it. This is a relationship I want to keep (duh), but some of the dynamics need to change. I've known this for a while, and I've also known that much of it has to do with me, and a little with them. Alas, even small change can sometimes be large.

As for The Woman in Tooele......
I reverted to the position that Kate tried to convert me to some years ago. Expect nothing, then you can't be disappointed. On my last visit, I did just that. And it turned out pretty good. Externally, it was a little better than normal, only in that Lisa was a little more communicative about some things. (How much of that originated with her, and how much was allowed by my change of mood and response?) Internally, it honestly did the trick. This even extended beyond the human interaction thing down to wrestling with the dishwasher. Instead of being a 2 hour 20 dollar job, it ballooned into a 5 hour 35 dollar job. But having flushed the expectations or desires to do other things on the list, it was just cool beans.

Is it worth it?

It wasn't a pleasant night. I only got about four hours of sleep, in two short shifts. All from trouble having to do with a friend. None of it is her fault, none of it is her doing, but trouble just has a way of finding that woman, and too much of it splashes onto me.

So here is the dilemma: How much of this should I own? Do I walk away from the friendship saying it is just too much? Do I hold my nose and jump into up to my ass? Do I attempt a middle course, choosing where my limits are and not going beyond them?

If I walk away, and if the other person in the drama gets angry or gets buried in trouble, I stand to get stuck with a some larger burdens that I don't want to own. If I jump into it up to my naughty bits (or higher), then this phrase comes to mind: "I'm living with your problems, I might as well move in and live with you." This is NOT a productive and healthy course of thought. Finally, past experience shows that drawing lines just doesn't work. I draw lines only to get sucked past them.

My current mood is to just bail out of the friendship and do my best to protect my financial interests. If I take that route, I am likely to do it in a systemic manner: Make a list of people that are current or recent drags on my life and politely request that they lose my numbers, my addresses, my name and my face. How many friends do I have left if I do this? Only three that I can think of, and two are people I haven't spoken to in years. (As an odd note, they are all three connected in one way or another to the Phoenix area. Maybe when I burn my bridges I will have to move south.)

I am bitter and angry. I will likely soften my attitude. But then again, I may not. Or I may think it through and find a softer way to do it.

This is NOT what I asked for

Read from my previous post. "I want my life back."

The Universe took it as a challenge. What followed was an entire week of running my ass off doing everything for everyone except The Wombat. Yes - it really was that bad. The largest time and energy sink was moving Lisa to Tooele. But we did it. It took three trips with the moving truck (and the entire Labor Day weekend), a few odd days here and there, then all day last Saturday. But it is all done except for a few minor odds or ends at the old house - just a few things I need to salvage for myself.

Near the beginning of this, I offered the use of my trailer - a Harbor Freight 4 by 8 foot. Cheap, but wonderful. Pulled by a 1995 Camry (4 banger). It is a pretty sweet setup for someone of my ilk. I can do anything I used to do with my old station wagon (and before that the venerable Ford Courier), and still get over 30 MPG on the highway.

But my offer was laughed at. She referred to it, with disdain, as my "Micro-Trailer".

Never criticize the size of a man's tool.

Undaunted, I just showed up with the damned thing and proceeded to pack it up and drag it around. By the end of the move she confessed amazement at what I was able to do with it. (Just hope I don't get reported for my abuse of the dumpster at work. ...and then there is the matter of the razor wire...).

Tied down

I just signed my life away, buying a house in Tooele. It is Lisa's money buying the house, but my name on all of the paperwork. It was torture to get here, and now that it is done I feel untethered - as if I am floating. Not in a good way. Like I am no longer anchored, and any wind that blows will set my course, not my will.

This experience - selecting the house, applying for and playing with loans, etc. has pointed out to me a problem in my life. I am too tethered to people and things. If I see a direction I want to go in my life, I can't act on it because of what I am tied to. I have chosen security, comfort and responsibility at the price of freedom. This needs the change. Wait...rephrase (need? but if I leave it alone I am still safe and secure and miserable). I want it to change. It is my Will to change. It is an exercise for later to figure the details.

In smaller matters, I am bogged down in projects that sap my energy and rob me of my time. Some are needed, some are 'owed' to people, some are useless obsessions. Some projects - either good or bad for me - are being handled badly. Usually by trying to do them piecemeal, fitting them around the corners of other things. Is this good? Should I take more of an all or nothing approach, diving with all energy into a thing, ignoring all else, until it is done? Does this also imply just dropping some other things as having no worth (or just not being able to fit into the schedule)?

"Some projects take 2 minutes, and some projects take 70 years. Take your pick. What is your Will?" - Dylan

Another stray woman for my collection

I have a bad habit of collecting strays.

Not cats.
Not dogs.

Women.

(Someday I may write the back story on this - in fact it may be good for my psyche to do it. But not now.)

I was walking back from Kat's house when I saw a police car up the block. A young woman had been pulled over. She was removing her possessions from her car while a tow truck was getting ready to hook it. I guessed it was being impounded. It was a half block away, so I didn't get a good look at the woman's face, but her clothing and build caused me to assume she was a 19 to 22 year old hottie.

I shuddered.

I knew she needed a ride, I knew I could help, but every time I step up to help - even for simple things like this - it reaches back and bites me in butt. So many times I have had some simple act like this lead to a long term friendship where the exchange of energies has been far out of balance. I'm just a magnet for energy vampires. So I almost walked back in the house to ignore it.

Almost.

I walked over to her. As I approached I could see her face and the finer details and saw she was closer to my age, maybe a little older (but still a hottie). I offered her a ride and she accepted gratefully. She lived all of 1 mile away. It was a good deal. I felt good for helping, she felt good for the offer, we agreed that no good deed goes unpunished, and we agreed on the existence of "The Fuckup Fairy." I dropped her off, helped carry her stuff to the door. We exchanged names (Tina) and a hug. End of story.

But how did I get to this position, where such a simple act fills me with such trepidation and foreboding? There is something massively wrong with this, and I need to find a way around it.

Farewell to Holly's mom

Holly's mother died last Sunday. But she died well. My only regret is that, after having heard some admirable things about her, I didn't meet her before she was gone.

About a month ago, mom was admitted to the hospital after suffering a seizure. After fending off the the medical community (after WAY too much sedation, they wanted to implant a pacemaker based on a pressured consent from family, not informed consent by mom), she went home to recover. Instead of just laying back and expecting to get better, mom took responsibility for her recovery. She set goals for time out of bed, for mild exercise, and for slowly resuming housework. She didn't over-stretch - family was there to help, and mom only took on a little of the work as she was able. But she did, thank goodness, take on what she could.

But there was some question of her heart, and if a pacemaker really was needed. The compromise was to get a monitor and see what the record recommended.

On Sunday evening, mom was up and about. She was on her feet. She helped with the cooking and dishes. She was talking and coherent. She felt valued and useful. She was happy. Early in the evening, she lay down for a nap. A short time later when family checked in on her, she was gone.

"Term of all that liveth, whose name is inscrutable. Be favorable unto us in thine hour." I hope, in my time, to find as much favor.