What's Your Story?

How did you land here, thin mass of printings and plastics?
Where did you stray from?  Where is your guardian?
Did you fall in vain or succumb to a lovers' spat?

Who is this reflection staring back at me?
What is your story, flat soul?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I found this drivers' license in the street, while walking with Travis last night.  I originally picked it up to investigate who this mysterious brunette was.  Like, what's her deal?

• Then I thought, I should mail this back to her because I'm a lovely fucking lady (Travis agreed.)
• Then I thought, oh snaps, what if she's gone missing and I found a clue!  ...maybe I should check with local authorities.  But insist, "No, no.  I had nothing to do with it officer, I swear!"
• Then I thought, I should send this back to her with a note saying "I know where you live."  Which, technically, is accurate.

A Biscuit To Share

I've spent the last few weeks researching and mildly educating myself on the best ingredients to use for homemade dog treats.  Preferably vegan, really trying for gluten free though.  It turns out many doggies, like humanoids, find digesting wheats & gluten ruff.  So it became a purposeful challenge: find simple ingredients, a recipe that tasted good and one I could make en mass.  I wanted any puppy parents who came to Leroy and Bentley's Birthday Pawty to have a thank you take away.  Some might call it a doggy bag.  But without knowing the personal dietary needs for 12 pups, I had to err on the side of caution.

There were some pretty awful experiments and several times I had to drop it in the trash, but I eventually found this recipe to use as my platform.  A Peanut Butter, Banana and honey piece of goodness.  After a few versions, I knew I wanted to incorporate more banana flavor and less honey/flour.  So I hitched up my non-graduating culinary school pants and I set out to make a better batter.

What I developed was a delicious bite-sized treat, that not only Leroy loved, but I did too!  Travis found me sitting at our dining table, poppin' these gems, in order to um, make sure they were ok.  Seriously, they became 30 calorie marvels made even better with jam!  I knew this was a winner, winner, chicken dinner.

Enjoy alone or with furiends.

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My version (makes 24-36 small cookies)

• 1 1/4 ripe banana
• 1/4c peanut butter
• 1Tbsp + 1tsp honey
• 1/2 - 1tsp cinnamon (optional, ratio based on preference)
• 1 1/4c gluten free flour (I used Bob's) 

1. Preheat over to 350
2. Line a baking sheet with parchment or Silpat.  Skip if using a silicone bake mold
3. Starting with the banana, mix ingredients together one at a time, incorporating well after each
4. (Optional) Refrigerate dough 10-15 minutes, to reduce stickyness
5. Roll dough into 1/2 inch balls, flattening down with a fork.  Or stuff into silicone bake mold
6. Bake 12-15 minutes, depending on size

It's Time To Pawty!

{as dictated to Brandi, by Leroy the Puppy Boy}

Hi, I'm Leroy!

I came home on July 4, 2013, when I was only 3 months old.  My human friends Travis and Brandi loved me right away, even though I was a little scared.  I remembered them from all the visits while I was at the shelter, so like I knew they were cool, but I had never spent time away from my bothers and sister.  And then I rode in this moving thing and then they showed me all kinds of grass and toys...  I mean it was great, but I was overwhelmed for a little bit.  But soon it became apparent these people that only walked on two legs (I still don't get it) were going to be my bestest friends furevers, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Brandi and Travis decided my Woofday was April 4, because that makes it easy to remember.  Here's my first one. And because I was too little to know when I was born and couldn't call up ma & paw, I said... OK!  But then the coolest thing happened!  My human friends found my brother through Instmagrams.  His name is Mr. Bentley Jackson and he's pawesome!  After not seeing each other for a year, we played at the park and had THE BEST TIME.  We have a super, special puppy bond and that's swell. 

So my second Woofday happened.  But today, we get to have a pawty!!!  It's gonna be at the Zoom Room where I can run and play and see my friends.  And of course, my brother.  I love Brandi. I love Travis, I love my brother, I love my aunties and uncles and all the people who puppysit me, and all the people who have fun with me.

<3

 

 

Moving Past The Night Corpses

I should really be reading for book club, but the allure of a solo walk is far too great.  I'm also doing a fitness step challenge through work and I need 3200 more to reach the 14k goal.  It's chilly out, so a swell cup of hot tea would be a perfect silent companion.  I perform the necessary, filling one of four green ceramic mugs we've had for years.  It's like having an old friend with brown teeth stop by and give you warm, wet kisses.  The microwave whirrrrs.

I rummaged for a pair of comfy pants that have become too big since losing weight, but it's late so I don't mind.  These pants have also drug on the ground since I brought them home, so there's that.  But instead of taking two seconds to cut off the bottoms like a normal person, you'll find me stuffing them into either my socks or shoes, like a savage.  What I'm saying is baggy pants that balloon at the feet.  My top of choice, a heathered sweatshirt that is slightly too short because it's from a hip store.  I think the timer went off minutes ago.  oops.  No makeup; hair mostly dry.  My mom always said I'd catch cold going out with a wet head, but if it's all the same to you, I'm gonna stop believing that now.  A pair of walking shoes will ease the pounding pavement.  Tea in hand with no lid, because my face doesn't seem to understand how those plastic shields work.

As I drift down the street, I'm alone with nothing more than billions of neurons and my drinkable escort.  I stare at the ground, hoping to find answers to questions which are buried in thought, but no one is answering.  I notice tonight the pants have achieved a new level of tucked and stuffed.  This looks ridiculously bad, but there's no other souls who can actually view my existence.  this drink is really good.  My mind plays a trick when it's late and there's little movement in the streets; I feel invisible to the night corpses, even the driving ones.  I'm just a whiff out the corner of their eye, nothing more.  But this cloak of protection is revoked when I notice the lights of a parked car.  It jerks me into feeling fashionably self-conscious, with my ballooney pants, pea coat with the missing buttons and tea vessel.  I'm startled and the hot liquid spills over my hand.  I shake it off, but yowch.

I continue walking the same path as I did with Travis & Leroy only hours before, away from home towards a major street.  The few cars out seem desperate to get somewhere, while I want nothing of the sort.  Can they see how vulnerable I feel?  The tea keeps splashing over the sides, while the cold air dries it quickly.  The strange texture left on my hand leads me back to when a friend of my parents said "You only spill a drink when you look at it."  {squints eyes like Fry} I should stop believing that too.  My gaze wears off.  I see now I'm in the exact same spot as earlier, where Travis helped rid my shoe of a bloated orange gummy bear.  I smile, wanting to capture that elation in my pocket for later.

As I wait for the crosswalk to change, I see two chumps across the street, sitting under the half-assed LED lights of a Taco Bell.  hand says go.  I walk past them and briefly assess the situation.  I have a knife and a semi-warm cup of liquid; they'll get a good dose of both if they follow, so I'm good.  their feet remain.  I really like walking when it's quiet.  As I figure out the size and shape of my writing pants, I better understand why creative people do it so often.  The phrase clearing your mind resonates, but it's really taking your mind away from the business of living.  The brain says cool, let's go down to the banks of the Mems-o-sippi.

This entire time I've been fighting an epic battle.  On one side of the ring, the crafting narrator with a story to tell; on the other, the practical thief who knows the value of remembering daily responsibilities.  The second guy sounds like a riot.  how is it possible I just spilt this fucking tea again?  I step check and I'm further than expected, likely because the narrator was more persuasive.  Gee, I wish there was a way to record your thoughts as they go - speaking them would never do.

These walking shoes have led me towards the last few blocks of home and suddenly I feel the urgency to be there.  My tea long gone, nose sniffly, and I'd like a snack.  Most of all, to get this story from head to pixelated paper, as I wrote and re-wrote a hundred times over.  My brain needs a carriage return.

I cross the street, when the 14,000 tick badge completes!  I'm smiling, excited to remove that from thought, the green ceramic mug dangling & bouncing from my right pointer finger.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME - TEA THAT WAS NOT THERE, BUT WAS TOTALLY THERE, JUST SPLASHED OUT ALL OVER MY SHOES?!?

I can't help but laugh.  you win this round bandito...

Going Clear Is A Costly Penance

I have some experience studying religion and have learned more about it as I get older.  And with Jesus' Super Bowl happening this Sunday, what better time to tell you I don't care.  I really don't, about any of it.  Business Messiah and I will not be friends, and I will leave this earth this same way I arrived - disembodied.  Or as a ghost... I haven't decided yet.

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My grade school was a private Lutheran affair.  The concept was taught, but not forced upon us at that age.  Now whether that was just how the school operated or we weren't old enough yet to be fully indoctrinated, I'll never know.  We had bible lessons & gathered in the church each Wednesday, but that was it.  My family never went back for Sunday service, we didn't participate in away games, never spoke about it at home unless I was studying.  All my parents wanted was for me to be in a good school and that seemed to fit the bill.  I don't remember what I learned about the book in all those years, which may have been telling for how I'd look upon religion later in life.  At the time, it was just a place where I could have a super rad day.  And oh yeah, there was a picture or two of jesus on the wall.  But there were also pictures of butterflies and macaroni art, so there's that.

Later in junior high, my best friend Veronica would invite me to spend Saturday night with her, as long as I went to catholic church Sunday morning.  It was the occasional insistence by her mom, over some sort of guilt I never quite understood.  But she would drop us off, speeding away while yelling see you in 3 hours...  We were good kids, so like what was I repenting for?  At Veronica's insistence, I even took the eucharist once, which as a non-catholic I think is super shameful according to the fictional rules.  check and mate.  Admittedly, it was weird for numerous reasons, including lack of tastyness.  But wasting a Sunday morning was worth it to spend time with her.

In high school I befriended some chick who I soon found out, went to Wednesday night youth group.  Why is that the choicest weekday to be saved?  She invited me all the time and I eventually said yes out of frustration.  For me, high school was a time to discover myself, my friends, in between getting a little high and a little tripped.  So when given the opportunity to go undercover and infiltrate the seedy world of kids doing clean fun, my dipped brain said I'm there.  They played kick ball and tag for an hour before gathering to review the previous weeks' learnings.  I remember sitting on the floor in a circle, just like I did when I was in Lutheran school.  I darted my eyes back and forth to everyone in the room, almost as if I had left my body and could hover above the crowd.  I was staring back at kids who were barely older than me, acting like they were put upon thy hard plastic chair for the ultimate purpose.  About 10 minutes later, I once again shelved my detective hat and went back to being a me who didn't give a shit.

To this day, religion makes me anxious & nervous.  Other than eating, breathing & drinking - I don't like being forced to do something that millions of others are into; I don't enjoy feeling like I must check in with an invisible parent all the time, whose index finger is invariably stretched in a point.  I don't care for the idea I must live up to unrealistic expectations or sweetly be told, I'm not worthy of this life.  I don't believe in contradictory rules and I don't like something intangible legitimizing or de-ligitimizing any human, simply because a written invention decrees it.  How if you're not all in, you can't be a true believer.  That doesn't seem awesome to me.  Why can't we just be nice and considerate and thoughtful to one another?  Practicing that shouldn't come with a thousand tiny commandments.

Have most of the denominations been able to guile us so hard, we're chasing dangled carrots in the hopes of a few holy bites?  I kinda feel like it is.  Whether you're a kid bargaining for a sleepover, or a grownup pledging eternal loyalty for a blissful afterlife.  It's all the same - do the thing that sucks and you'll get something good in return.  I could go to the gym and get the same effect.

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My first experience with Scientology wasn't driving past the Celebrity Centre in Hollywood, mumbling a soft woah...  Nor asking why is that building so blue.  And finally pondering who is L. Ron Hubbard and why is his name on everything.  Nope, it was on a walk with Travis soon after we started dating.  We passed this used book store and I was already being summoned like a paper moth.  Outside was a cart of $1 books and I randomly picked up Dianetics.  I had vague memories of their commercials but always thought it was for a fictional narrative.  Like how James Patterson's thrillers are advertised every 3 months.  whoops.  The church probably equates stores like that as the Napster of print because they insist you only buy new copies of their rhetoric.  Travis sermonized how LRH was a science fiction writer and created this overlord character called Xenu, who brought some of his people to the prison planet Earth, where they exploded in volcanoes or something and the spirits attached themselves to humans (called thetans.)  It sounded like a pretty good story.  And then he told me no, that was his "religion."

come again?

I remember thinking how made up it sounded.  How silly.  How if that was the core of this fundamental movement, why would anyone follow it?  I laughed at this idea which sounded so preposterous, yet it knocked on my detective door once again.  I kinda wanted to know more about a religion that wasn't.  I mean for a person who has never studied the concept, that's what it seemed like.

So over the years, I've read articles for and against the faith because the more I know, the more informed decision I can make.  At book club, we read Beyond Belief by Jenna Miscavige Hill, the niece of the current Scientology leader, David Miscavige.  Most points of view were the same theme: it's brainwashing, it's misleading, it's invasive.  And I agree - there's something that's off about Scientology.  I don't know what they stand for, other than the apparent need to give money and recruit others.  To do what though!?  It seems like a giant mass conspiracy to keep their classified, subterranean work secret - at any cost.  But what is the work for?! {shakes atheist fist}

With the HBO documentary Going Clear premiering last week, it's just another group of people confirming what so many others have said.  The behind closed doors accusations are staggering; abuse and threatening behavior at the forefront.  Why do they separate families and have children doing manual labor?  Why must you taunt others and disconnect from anyone who speaks ill of their business?  Why is continually releasing secrets during auditing so important - are they proclaiming it to be therapy or confession?

I totally understand the need to be part of something, to work together and help sort out the questions in life.  But I don't understand achieving that, when the cost of your "work" far outweighs the benefit.

I just don't get such madness.

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I am in NO WAY any sort of expert of the subject.  I just know what I read, what I feel and what I believe.  Which you may or may not agree with, but I guess in a way we're all at least a religion of one.