It's Friday Already??

What a week.


And it's not over.


So much to say, no time to say it.... I have to be awake in five hours.

Ghah!

This Week's Journal Favourite

I like to read journals of those people I've found (and continue to find) online that have become part of my day.

I've had the great good fortune to meet some of these folk... you know who you are...and some have connected via phone and emails. I only wish I were clever enough to make up a little badge to pass out to those in my world that make me happy.

Instead, because I'm part of the collective "i was here" (thank you, he who is not named because I don't want ever again to get those nasty emails from odd people).... I present the:

F M D Journal Favourite of the Week!!!

(or when I remember to post it) (cue the music and confetti)

This week, it's Peter of Plastic Bubble World.

He has a way with words that quite simply make me make the strangest sounds that pass for laughter in the world.

Take this gem, stolen from his current post on dancing in the disco era,

"Debbie was friendly enough, but she was not the kind of girl that boys asked to dance. Her mother was the lunch room monitor, but that was among the least of her social worries. There were several hard-to-articulate reasons why Debbie did not get asked to dance. Sometimes, while dancing, Debbie would drop to the floor, squatting briefly in a frog-like position. I'm not sure if she had seen that move somewhere, or if she just came up with it on her own. "

I started to make this gollum sound in my throat on the lunch room monitor portion. By the time I reached the frog squat, I had a hiccup kind of a squelch laugh going.


So, go read. Please.

Saturday

Saturday was unique.

I went from slow to fast to emotional to laughing, a full range of emotions was reached.

I missed the main ferry over, and with the 1 updown not running from the Ferry, I caught the bus uptown, joining those 45,000 marching in the drizzle, the moisture. It was the tail end, yet, you caught the sense of urgency, of feeling, of belief in the cause.

I cried.... a lot.

We moved up, students, workers, older folk, vets from Korea to Iraq....wanting out, wanting it now.

I came home, thinking about it all, deciding to attend the rally next week in Staten Island, racing around when I got home to gather things to go back again to be in time for rehearsals...

Then I faced the debacle of the MTA, who stopped officially running the 1 at midnight Saturday, which means it unofficially stopped running around 9PM. My usual 90 minute commute from Penn Station to home took three hours.

In between, I returned items I didn't purchase that were placed in my bags at Jack's. They couldn't quite grasp the concept I didn't want money back, these weren't my things... I was simply bringing them to the store... I hadn't paid for them, I couldn't keep them.

Reflective day, busy day, overwhelming day... leaving me exhausted today.

Hope your weekends were good ones.

The Fiddle and The Drum

Song titles lend themselves to my journal entries sometimes.

Long ago, and far away, I was on the far end of the Vietnam war. The big protests had occurred, One Tin Solider had rode away, Four were Dead in Ohio, Everybody knew what was Going 'Round... Baez and Dylan and Joni and Judy... Peter, Paul and Mary told a new generation it was time to approach life in a gentler way, to stop the War in Vietnam, move out of that hellhole...bring our soldiers home.

I protested. I marched, sang with those who rallied, handed out fliers, skipped school and had my underage ass in far too many scary places. I ran from police, scurried down alleys, and have my own FBI record, with almost all the information redacted. It's only a few paragraphs, nothing like JS, who served two years for burning draft records, but, it's mine, and I'm proud of it... I was never violent, I marched and signed petitions, and pushed for an 18 year old vote, too. If we were old enough to die, we were old enough to vote. I believed in what I was doing, going against the Government, Nixon, the War and the huge machinery that kept it going. Where had all our young men gone, long time ago?

Eventually, they all came home.... well, not all. But, the huge majority.

Problem was, we painted every soldier with the same brush, and we painted them black as night with the evil of that place. Baby killers they were called. Spat upon, shouted at, called vile, terrible things... even those who had been held captured. We didn't understand to curse the war, not the warrior. That the crimes of some should not be held on all who wore the uniform.

Slowly we healed. We learned. We built that beautiful Wall in remembrance. Some of those brave men and women never left that place behind, and they still suffer. We learned, though... you don't hate those who go. You question the reason for the going, and you don't blindly go along with the decisions made.

Time passes--you grow up, you grow old, and things change. In your heart, however, you stay that rebel.... who may not like the idea that wars have excuses, but, understands sometimes, they do have good ones. Moral ones.

This war, this one has no valid excuse. This, well, it's not a war, is it? That was over ages ago. This is a 'spreading of Democracy'. One that has cost over 3800 American soldiers their lives, over 28,000 wounded, untold Iraqi deaths, wounded, displaced. Yes, a good way to spread Democracy. Iran looms next.

On Saturday, I will follow my morals, my values, my beliefs and join those who march against the Non-War in Iraq. Once more, I'll hold a placard and shout, "NO MORE WAR!!". I will do this, knowing my son is there, knowing he is fighting there, and knowing he has no political agenda in joining the service.

I do have an agenda. My children back me in this decision. They understand my mindset.

Old protesters never die... we continue to remember that war isn't healthy for children and other living things.

Especially when our children are wearing the uniforms this time.

You Can Read Here Today If You'd Like...

Too much to look up.

How do researchers do it on a regular basis?


So, if you feel like reading meme.


Here's me:

Broowaha


SixSentences

(I didn't write that bio, btw...and I'd love any critiques on the story there)


Who knew there were so many pages on....




Thought I was going to tell, didn't you?

My Basic Rules in Life

Always own something you can pawn.

If you have a company, name it after yourself.. it's easier to fire people that way. ("Do you see that name over the door? It reads Quinzilla, not (your name)zilla, and I'm Quin. See ya.") My company name is Neoptism....says it all.

Always accept culpability for your actions.

Everyone should have a bit of Atticus Finch in their soul..it would keep a bit of sanity in the world.

You can't take back anything you say, so, think first.

Irrational anger won't get you anywhere and just wastes time. I don't have time to waste, so, please don't waste mine.

Manners and no money will take you further than money and no manners.

It never hurts to smile and say thank you.

Never stop reading.

Always say "I love you" before you leave or say goodbye to those you love.

Friends are the family you choose... because sometimes, Gd just messes up with those you get stuck sharing DNA with. And sometimes, you get lucky, and they are one and the same.

Remember children look to you on how to behave.. and they remember everything you do.

Chat with strangers.. you never know what you'll find out.

Don't be a hater, it makes wrinkles.

Suppressed farts make your hips big. Okay, it's really chocolate, but, the fart line is amusing.

Toothpaste will polish up sterling silver up like no body's business.

He who owns the car chooses the music...unless you are the mom. Then you always choose the music.

We all get old. Be patient with those who have reached that stage first.

Never stand by and let a child suffer.

Friends are the best gift in the world. Always be thankful you have them.

Sometimes, life sucks. It's the way it works out, and nothing is going to change it...it's the way you deal with that suckage that will make you or break you.

It's okay to not always like your kids. Or your friends. Or your family.

I'm not here to please everyone.

Once in awhile, take a day and be mad, depressed, angry....wallow in it, revel in it, lie in bed, cry, eat... mental health days are great.

Not everyone is going to like me. I'm okay with that now.

Don't forget why I'm here. Be glad I have a second chance. Laugh...a lot.


Feel free to add your own... please.

When is Seafood Not Seafood?

When it's a Lobster Tail.

Sadly, I'm now addicted to these things. Even sadder is the fact they are found only six blocks away. Six easy blocks away. This means I can quickly walk there, buy one and walk home.

Pastry filled with rich filling, topped with a daub of whipped cream and a maraschino cherry.

Oh, yes. Life is good.