Light and Darkness

Does Possession Validate Ownership?

National Geographic online has a video series regarding artifact ownership. It broaches the subject of who becomes the owners of objects taken as the spoils of war, archaeological digs, and thievery. What do you think? Hitler's practice of claiming artwork for himself robbed Jewish families of their prized possessions. Decades after the war, pilfered pieces hang in museums or private collections and descendants of the victimized families cry in outrage. Who owns it?

Bad Kitty!

I was absent from the online world for a few days because The Kitten had jumped behind the television bureau and had knocked out the cable internet connection. Having had to work and being too lazy to move crap, I just suffered through the loss until Wednesday. Was gleefully busy catching up with online life. Thus the lack of posts.

How have all of you been?

Drunken Embarrassment

I'm going to combine a couple of these together: Been Drunk (Um? Yes.) and Made Out with a Stranger (Double yes.) to be specific. I've thought I've told this story before but I tell is frequently because it's funny as hell that I may just think that I've repeated it here.

I was in Millington TN still and worked at the infamous Mama Lanni's (at least infamous in Millington TN) circles). My friends, Nicola and Heather, and I accompanied each other to many places especially the Enlisted Club on the base. They were always with boyfriends. Me? Loser loner girl that never turned a head.

ANYWAY....

We went to the club to watch a band, a cover band that did the 80s metal hair bands justice. The girls' men were in the Navy and were hanging out with this guy named Vincent. This will be the only time that he will be called Vincent on this space of mine (Incidentally, I did mention him one other time but never went into detail. I'll give the link at the end.) Vincent was wearing this purple shirt and during the course of that drunken night, I told him that I liked said shirt.

As mentioned, I got drunk. We were rocking to the band that were not that great. Fast beat. Screaming the lyrics. Jumping around. Arms around pals. Beer mug in one hand. The other around the shoulders or such of Purple Shirt. And then I saw the look.

The exchange of glances between the lead singer and Purple Shirt. We were standing right in front the stage. The crowd was behind us jumping and dancing and having a gay ol' time; and I saw it. Without words or payment, Lead Singer slowed the crowd down. He called for a ballad for all the couples to get close. In my head, I rolled my eyes. In my spirit, I groaned. I was stuck. Purple Shirt and I turned to face each other. Locked bodies suddenly stuck in a slow song...a slow song that turned into kissing.

Now, touching me whilst I'm drunk is a scary thing. Like some hypnotized slave, my body betrays me. It wants to get very intimate. It craves sex and it doesn't care from whom it takes it. Like some succubus unleashed, I desire...and he felt soooo good. His tongue. His hands. His hot breath pounding on my throat, in time with the bass. I wanted to use him.

With drunkenness comes time incoherency. At the end of the night, when the club was closing, Nicola, Heather and I stood before a cab saying goodbye to the guys. A last kiss and into the car. The hyper-sexual dream state ended at the closing of the door. The girls gave me shit about Purple Shirt. I was disgusted with myself because I wasn't attracted to him. I was glad to be going home.

Not soon after meeting him, the discussion of my eighteenth birthday comes up (tsk tsk, Naomi). We were at work when the girls and I decide on a party at Nicola's house. Just some friends. I explicitly say at least a few trillion times, that I do NOT want Purple Shirt there. Do not. Not. I'm given an agreement that he won't be. Yeah, right!

In the course of planning the party, which has now developed into a bigger party because my birthday falls the day before the Marine Corps' birthday (celebrated religiously in my household when I was a kid...Marine dad) and on a long weekend because Veteran's Day was that weekend as well. We invite a Marine friend of mine that had gone to my high school in North Carolina and was stationed in Millington. Was excited. Then they tell me...Purple Shirt was coming.

Bitches! Yeah, they think it's funny. I don't.

Night of the party. As a joke, Heather gave me a package of glow in the dark condoms because I was a virgin. And before anyone arrives, I had her promise me to keep me safe. I had her swear that matter how I plead, she would keep me away from Purple Shirt. She swore.

Everyone and their brother showed up. Purple Shirt showed up. Was casual with him. We had a lot of alcohol. I had a lot to drink. I don't know when it happened but I suddenly found myself under the bar in the kitchen making out with Purple Shirt. He felt fantastic. Teeth. Lips. Tongues. Hands. Rubbing. Yum. It was delicious.

Then Heather found us. She separated him from me and dragged me into the living room. She forced me onto the couch and I remember her telling him to go away. I begged her. She told me 'no.' I reasoned with her. She told me 'no.' I told her that I would be careful because I had condoms. She laughed and told me 'no.' I did something to convince her to leave me alone.

And when she left, he came back to me. On the couch, we were at it again. Hot with frenetic motion. We were still fully clothed but the grinding was fabulous. Heather found us again. She separated us again. She dragged me into the den where most of the party had gathered. She sat me on the couch. Purple Shirt sat on the floor across from me. I beckoned him to me. He started crawling towards me and I think I to him. We got separated again.  I was forced to the couch once more but this time by my Marine friend. I motioned for Purple Shirt to come to me. He started but in one quick movement, the Marine looked at him and told him to stay away from me. After his stern warning, he looked at me and told me to go to bed. I was pissed. He sat down and forced me to stay on the couch until I fell asleep. I did, completely unsatisfied.

I woke up the next morning. I thanked Heather. Repeatedly.

You just have to stand back and say WOW!

Wanted to pass this on because it's fucking awesome. Thanks to MetroDad for the introduction to this video gem. The girl is in her groove. You can see it in her beat. Her brother does it like it's habit. One can imagine the practicing and his growing impatient with having to do it...like practicing his instrument instead of getting to go out and play.

Just amazes me.

Sank Hev-ven

"Damn you, Scooby Doo! Another freaking category?!"

I hear you saying it. I do. Yes. Explanation? Of course.

When I worked for the clinic, my boss and friend, Robin, had a book in her office. This book to be exact. She made a rule. If you sat down in the chairs across from her desk, you had to pick up the book and a pen or highlighter and find something in the book that made you happy.

I love the idea. I bought a copy of the book a few months ago to do the exact same thing because, let's face it, folks...I suck at being happy and grateful for what I have. I suggest you do this very thing. Go out and buy the book and keep it someplace for you and your family or co-workers or whomever you (or keep it for yourself) want to share it and a moment of happiness.

Taking this a step further, I've created the new category aptly named in honor of our French crooner from Gigi, Maurice Chevalier. I have the "Love Affairs" category but that's just ever so different. This one is my daily reminder of what I'm sanking hev-ven for. Little or big. But it has to be done with a French accent that breaks into song and promises a walk along the Champs-Élysées.

Without further delay: Sank hev-ven for crushed ice, which is far more superior than cube, at the QT that sits on the corner from my apartment complex. So convenient with its yummy cold goodness available twenty-four hours a day.

"Lady, I love my cigar too, but I take it out once in a while."

I don't know if I have an anecdote for 'smoked a cigar' other than I have smoked a few cigars in my adulthood. I probably smoked more of them with my friend Niambi when I lived in Memphis than I have any other time because she liked them too. I believe she told me that she smoked them more when she drank.

I guess there was the fad a few years back where everyone and their gynecologists' fishes smoked cigars. The magazines. The clubs. The celebrities. The President and the intern. So fashionable that it made me never want to do it again. Eh. Peer pressure.

I do think of one of my favorite movies when I think of cigars. I think there is a trend here which shouldn't be surprising. I've loved movies and books and windows to other existences since I was a babe and they made me do and believe some stupid things. Remind me to tell you about cartoons and rubbing alcohol. But I digress.

Gigi.

Anyone else love that movie other than my sister and me. "Sank hev-ven for leettle gurls." There's a scene where Gigi is learning how to be a courtesan from her great-aunt. She's clumsy and awkward and in that stage before Gaston realizes he wants to scoop her up and eat her on a thin slice of a baguette. Gigi takes a cigar between her thumb and fingers. She follows her aunt's lead and pretends to smell the subtle hints of flavor. Then she rolls it with disastrous results besides her ear and stupidly gives a face that denotes embarrassment and apology. Of course, after the big "Gigi's the shit" sung by our princely Gaston, those weeks and weeks of lessons where Gigi sucks as a girl pay off and she pulls the cigar trick off with grace and comehitherness.

Boy, those pushers of the tobacco industry sure know what they're doing. Hooking in young, innocent, naive children into a life of addiction, smelly clothes and lung-hacking coughs. I wanted to be just like the beautiful people in the movies; and cigars, though very bad for you, boys and girls, make me smile because they (and little edible fowl like cornish hens) remind me of sitting with Jenn watching that movie repeatedly.

By the way....anyone know who said the quote in my title and where?

I would not do well as a sideshow freak...well, at least not as the Fire-eating Man.

I've already told you the tale of my putrid lesson that cigarettes are bad, which should have been my lesson learned. Took a couple of those throughout my life but I still smoke once a blue moon. This, however is a shining example of why parents fear leaving their children home alone. The idiotic things that kids do when given idle time and no supervision.

I was in elementary school, somewhere between the ages of eight and ten and my parents had gone out for the evening leaving my siblings and me home. I don't know which of the three of us decided to play with the lighter that night. I wouldn't be surprised if it was my brother because he has always been a big pyro nut.

I did what I always liked to do when we played with the lighter, but I guarantee you that it stopped that very night. I would take notebook paper and roll them up, pretending they were cigarettes. Long, glorious cigarettes. Holding them like a Hollywood starlet striking a pose with a dangling cigarette holder elegantly between sexy fingers.  I would light the end of the roll and let it flame slightly. Blow it out and pretend to puff on the enormous stick. I would repeat the act until I was insecure about the length of my cigarette from my face, which was generally farther than nearer. Sometimes, I would make others in the same night.

On this particular night, I don't know what went wrong. Perhaps I didn't blow out the flame. Perhaps the flame re-ignited. Perhaps I just needed a lesson to stop playing with fire before I burned down the house. But I did the stupidest thing, which in comparison to playing with lighters and paper seems only par to the course. I inhaled and brought with the air, a rush of flame. I felt fire at the back of my throat. For only a minute but long enough to scare Jesus into me.

For some odd reason, I recall details that seem extraordinary. I remember the paper cigarette being larger in circumference and not as tightly rolled as before. I remember the smoke being more ominous; maybe that warning not to do it but still ignored. And I remember the fire being like a torch. When I reminisce about burning my throat, I can almost imagine myself being in the tube with the fire surrounding me. Scary events, especially for a child, become larger than life monsters; and even as adults, we remember them as such.

I didn't tell my parents. There was no way in hell that I would risk the beating that would be obligatory for such a mischievous act. Other than a little scratchiness and soreness for maybe a day or two, I don't think I've suffered any long term effects (Incidentally, when I recall the story, my throat always tightens and feels a bit scratchy.) And I never, never, never, never played that game again.

Asthma

New category if you look beneath the post. Just when you thought you knew everything about me, I surprise you.

I've had this strange relationship with my lungs. As a child, I had pneumonia twice. I've grown up with bronchial infections that I sometimes would neglect because of monetary reasons; and the doctors would give me a lecture that seemed to last a good fortnight. I have had an infection in the muscles between my ribs (intercostal infection) that hurt like hell. But then I had this amazing lung capacity that would carry me two or so pool lengths under the surface of the water on one breath. Lifeguards employed by our apartment complex when I was a teenager were wowed by the stamina of my body. I did a fairly good job holding a note for a period of time in choir as well. It's been a toss up with the ol' lungs.

I worked as a caregiver at a daycare when I was in my early twenties. Lack of funds and my refusal to go to the physician led to a mean case of an upper respiratory illness. After a couple of weeks of weezing and coughing and near fainting, I relented and saw my doctor. Told me that I had asthma and prescribed an inhaler.

I was pissed. I was also still very stubborn. I went dancing with friends...in a club that was filled with smoking people and mist and tight squeezing spaces. I had an asthma attack that nearly knocked me to my knees. It cut the night short. I used that damn inhaler for approximately a month and then stopped.

Fast forward a few years. Off and on, I was afflicted with weezing and spurts of tightening lungs...blah blah blah. Didn't really stop me from doing whatever I wanted. I'm just that kind of person. I decided to take a conditioning through swimming class. Things were going great. You gotta remember that I'm a fat, lumbersome person. I have no grace. My young, fit days as teenage Naomi were over; but I did manage to condition my body to swim a couple of miles every week. A great accomplishment for me ( I actually miss that class). Well into the semester, I started into my regular routine of warming up and swimming my laps. Somewhere in the beginning of it, I felt this tightening in my lungs. I couldn't manage to catch my breath during my strokes. I stopped and stood in the shallow water and I started to hyperventilate because I couldn't find a breath. I tried to calm down and breath out of my nose. I couldn't do it. That panicked me and I started to breathe faster and more shallow. I left the pool and too embarrassed, I never told anyone why I was having issues with my breath.

I still don't use an inhaler. I refuse to because I don't think I have asthma. Anxiety attacks, perhaps. Hyperventilation from too much stimuli, no doubt. Asthma? Nah!

Isolation Tank

The thought of such a contraption sounds heavenly to me right now. Nutters, right? Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. I feel calmer when I turn off unwanted attention and stimuli. I've been plugging in the Skullcandies and just listening to the MP3 on random. Some songs I've actually had to skip because certain frequencies and sounds are really bothering me. I've been ignoring phonecalls and texts and people and these continue to occur whether or not I respond...and people are phonecalling and texting each other about me.

I went into those dreadful days last week already feeling overwhelmed by my senses. I just wanted to hide and to flip a switch, very much like on a lamp to silence all that noise. But I soldiered on and went to work and really just flipped out a little bit. Regret. Always with me is my embarrassing partner, regret. Stupid little bitch!

Sleep. I love to sleep entirely too much. I think I've mentioned this before. Not a healthy way to address issues but such a lovely way to pass the time. Avoidance in a dreamlike trance where I'm a beautiful heroine that can solve any problem and everyone adores me. HA!

sigh....

I need to let loose some of this shit building up in my psyche. I've gotten to comfortable with repressing the emotions and they are leaking out of my pores like pus. Yuck. I've decided to try and revive the saner parts of me (what little bits that are left). Write more. Want to write more but unable to be honest for fear and apathy and depression. Yes, another jumpstart crapper. Bear with me. Quite a bit of me is sadden that there may be no one reading this site anymore. I admit that I want an audience to pay attention to me. Validation. Sad, isn't it? Ho hum.

Stealing one of those memes from a friend that posted it near New Years. Going to post the meme with all my answers and then take each one of them and write an entry on it. Writing fodder. What I've done is in red.

Have Had An Asthma Attack
Smoked A Cigarette
Smoked A Cigar
Been Drunk
Kissed A Member Of The Same Sex
Been In Love or still in love
Been Dumped
Been Fired
Been In A Fist Fight
Snuck Out Of A Parent's House

Had Feelings For Someone Who Didn't Have Them Back
Been Arrested Or Seen Someone You Know Get Arrested
Made Out With A Stranger
Gone Out On A Blind Date
Had A Crush On Someone Older Than You
Skipped School
Slept With A Co-worker / Teammate Or Relationship Close To It
Seen Someone / Something Die

Been On A Plane
Thrown Up From Drinking
Eaten Sushi
Been Snowboarding / Skiing
Been Mosh Pitting
Taken Pain Killers
Love(d) Or Lust Someone Who You Can't Have
Been In A BAD Relationship

Laid On Your Back and Watched Cloud Shapes Go By
Made a Snow Angel
Had A Tea Party
Flown A Kite
Built A Sand Castle
Gone Puddle Jumping
Played Dress Up
Jumped Into A Pile of Leaves
Gone Sledding
Cheated While Playing A Game

Been Lonely
Fallen Asleep At Work / School
Used a Fake / Someone Else's ID
Watched The Sun Set / Sun Rise
Felt An Earthquake
Kissed A Snake
Been Tickled
Been Robbed / Vandalized
Robbed Someone (Or Store)
Been Misunderstood

Pet A Deer
Won A Contest
Been Suspended
Had Detention
Been In A Car / Motorcycle Accident
Had / Have Braces
Eaten A Whole Pint Of Ice Cream In One Night
Had Deja Vu
Danced In The Moonlight
Hated The Way You Look

Questioned Your Heart
Been Obsessed With Post-it Notes
Squished Barefoot Through The Mud
Been Lost
Been To The Opposite Side Of The World
Swam In The Ocean
Felt Like You Were Dying
Cried Yourself To Sleep

Played Cops And Robbers
Recently Colored With Crayons / Colored Pencils / Markers
Sang Karaoke ...
Done Something You Told Yourself You Wouldn't
Made Prank Phone Calls
Laughed Until Some Kind of Beverage Came Out Of Your Nose
Kissed In The Rain
Written A Letter To Santa Claus
Been Kissed Under A Mistletoe

Watched The Sun Set With Someone You Care / Cared About
Blown Bubbles
Made A Bonfire
Crashed A Party
Have Traveled More Than 5 Days With A Car Full of People
Gone Rollerskating / Blading
Had A Wish Come True
Been Humped By A Monkey
Worn Pearls - even though they were fake
Jumped Off A Bridge / Something Close to A Bridge

Swam With Dolphins
Got Your Tongue Stuck To A Pole / Freezer / Ice Cube
Kissed A Fish
Worn The Opposite Sex's Clothes
Sat On A Roof Top
Screamed At The Top of Your Lungs
Done / Attempted A One-Handed Cartwheel
Talked On The Phone For More Than 6 Hours
Stayed Up All Night

Picked And Ate An Apple Right Off The Tree
Climbed A Tree
Had / Been In A Tree House
Have Been / Are scared To Watch Scary Movies Alone
Seen / Heard A Ghost / Spirit
Have / Had More Than 30 Pairs Of Shoes Or Flip Flops
Gone Streaking
Been To / Visited Someone At Jail
Played Chicken
Been Pushed Into A Pool With All Your Clothes On

Been Told You're Hot By A Complete Stranger
Broken A Bone
Been Easily Amused
Caught A Fish
Caught A Butterfly
Laughed So Hard You Cried
Cried So Hard You Laughed
Mooned / Flashed Someone
Had Someone Moon / Flash You

Cheated On A Test
Forgotten Someone's Name
French Braided Someone's Hair
Been Kicked Out Of Your House
Rode A Roller Coaster
Went Scuba-Diving / Snorkeling
Had A Cavity

Been Used
Fell Going Up The Stairs
Licked a Cat
Bitten Someone
Licked Someone
Been Shot At
Had Sex In Or Next To A Field / Garden / Lake / Ocean / Park
Flattened Someone's Tires
Drove / Rode In A Car Until The Gas Light Came On
Had Five Dollars Or Less And Bought Something

I Am a Rock by Simon and Garfunkel

A winters day
In a deep and dark december;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Ive built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
Its laughter and its loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Dont talk of love,
But Ive heard the words before;
Its sleeping in my memory.
I wont disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

I, Cactus

Got a big talking to yesterday at work from my boss. I feel like shit. That's really the sum of it. I've been deleting phone numbers and online contacts for the last couple of days. I was feeling prickly before the talk but now, I feel maniacally sensitive to attention and people and breathing. Good god, I'm crazy. I think the pressure is getting to me. I don't want meds but I want to function.

Chule Covers Iron Maiden

Please watch the friend during the whole video. The poor guy hides as much of his laughter that I think is humanly possible. Also....I swear Chule barks somewhere around the 2:34 mark.

And you know you're thinking in that neanderthal, retarded cave man voice, "I, Chule. Music, I like. Mmmm. Good. Music."