Storms. Storms in my head! I thought that I could do a little throwback Thursday or something. I would go back through some of my older posts and repost one of them to get a sense of where I once was but it’s only come to frustration because I realize that once upon a time the downpour of words that bombarded the page was so different than the sparsity that I struggle to ration out lately. I read it and I think, where the heck did that come from?
Today, by comparison, I think my prose has dried out somewhat. As though a sandstorm has come through and blasted my creativity down to bare metal.Maybe that’s what it feels like to come back to writing after a long period of no-writing. Or maybe something has changed. The thunderbolts of inspiration don’t just light up my brain like they used to.
But for whatever reason I can’t seem to give up altogether. Every time I think about hanging it up — admitting that my writing is just another fad, a fly-by-night hobby — there’s something inside that won’t let it go, and when I look back I see what it is that I must be holding on to. I would like to think that perhaps some day I can find my way back to writing long form, the off-the-cuff essays, the flash fiction — to being, and moving forward from, the bedazzling literary cyclone that I must have been.
I actually work really hard on this. And maybe I’m a little too aggressive, because here I am the next morning trying to finish this reconstruction of my feelings about this on a screen when I could be doing other things, things that I also feel I need to do . . . but they must not be as important as this. Even though I have to go running and then go to work in a little bit.
Because when it comes down to it I guess I have to write.
Today is a wonderful Friday, because I’m not at work and I have time to write and read and do things!
I got up,
put on legitimate pants (I’m thinking about making that a habit,)
ate a piece of leftover pizza,
downed my seasonal-change cocktail of vitamins, Tylenol® Sinus, and allergy pill;
put on coffee,
shaved my whiskers,
paid some bills,
and did a little of the Facebook thing.
Now on to some real blogging.
How do you feel when someone tries to push their values on you? Does that stick in your craw, or what? I know it does mine. Speaking of the Facebook thing, I was answering comments (that’s often all I do — only occasionally do I share relevant posts or update my status) when I happened to notice this little tidbit in my news feed:
There’s this Senator in Arizona who suggested that the law should mandate weekly church attendance!
Yay! (blows a raspberry)
Now, I hope you are all aware that I almost never talk religion or drop the “G-word”, but let’s discuss this. Put aside for a moment the absolute certainty that no such law would ever see the light of day due to the fact that this is a flagrant violation of the American ideals of religious freedom and the separation of church and state; in fact, I think every politician in their right mind knows that this is a non-starter.
Forget that the whole idea would be unworkable due to matters of logistics: how do you account for attendance? How do you enforce it? How do you define a religion? Wouldn’t you have to make room for atheists who would rather meet at the library, the bar, or the bowling alley to get their church cards signed? At that point, the whole thing falls apart. It becomes a waste of time and money — yet another drain on the intrepid taxpayer.
Putting all that aside, this idea that we should be obliged by law to attend church is like a series of slaps to the face, because coupled with her idea that this would lead to a moral rebirth it suggests that without religion we are amoral. It equates all of us — every citizen of the United States of America — with violent, antisocial criminals. It suggests that all of us need to be rehabilitated in some way, as though religion can program us to be something the government considers acceptable (here’s a crazy idea – let’s make a food pyramid . . . but for religiosity! That sounds awesome!) What’s not ironic here is that this idea comes up alongside nostalgic commentary about times when people kept their guns out in plain sight in unlocked cars, thus linking the imagery of guns to religion, and the compulsion thereto.
–> Let’s not forget that religion was more than just window-dressing for a vast majority of wars worldwide prior to the 20th century; it was a pretext for empire-building, meaning that religion has always been the standard tool for conquest on every scale.
— > Let’s not forget that religion often limits freedom on a much larger scale than laws do, to a point where most people find it impossible to take it seriously in modern society — not that they don’t try. Were that possible, we would likely have more clergy than soldiers.
–> Let’s not forget that the most zealous advocates of major faiths tend to be the most hypocritical. Killing in the name of love? That’s not a song, folks; that’s a historically world-shaping paradigm.
–> Let’s not forget that reason and science have founded an age where people can think for themselves, can sort out right and wrong without the threat of eternal damnation hanging over their heads — who wants that kind of stress anyway?
Don’t get me wrong — I’m not trying to slam religion or church attendance. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to find community with like-minded individuals who share faith with you. What really rankles me is when someone talks about shoving that down everyone’s throat with legislation. I live by a code, and one principle I live by is that I don’t oppress people with my own ideas. Like anyone, I am glad to put my ideas and opinions out there — but to try and force agreement? That’s a poor way to treat others, especially in such an open society. It’s never worked for me and I hate to see it in action because it is oppression.
Somewhere in the middle ground between pure anarchy and the iron fist of a totalitarian state there exists a spot of perfect balance, where the clockwork of society ticks in perfect synchrony; I think if power-players on the extremes would stop arguing about where that point should be, those of us who would like to live our own lives in peace would be much better off!
To those people who like to step on others in order to reach higher, be forewarned: if I see that happening, I will take that as a sign from above to come over and knock you down.
That’s not to say I’m not having fun sometimes, but really – okay, so my tail isn’t really falling off, but it has narrowly escaped a few near-manglings; one time it was almost chomped off by a sneaky old crocodile! I don’t know if they realize that I can’t grow the tail back, or that I need to keep it. My tail is part of what makes me fast and efficient.
Most don’t realize that I am fast and efficient, or so hard-working; they complain that all I do is lie around in the sun all day. Do they not realize how much heat I generate just by moving around? When it comes to eating around here, it’s catch as catch can, and oftentimes we eat just once every few days. So we eat a lot at once, and we try to save our energy for when we need it most. I’m trying to carry about thirty kilos of impala in my guts for up to half the week. Even then, we still have to worry about buffalo.
Don’t cross the buffalo; we’re told that literally the day we’re born. I remember my mother licking me clean, saying “don’t cross the buffalo, whatever you do. They’re easily confused, and meaner than Catholic school nuns”; so we avoid them like the plague, and they end up hating us because they think we’re snobs. Now that I’m old enough to understand where we’re going wrong in this whole situation, it’s really too late to do anything about it. It’s a vicious cycle, if you’ll pardon the cliche; and if it’s not buffalo it’s rhinos. If it’s not rhinos its crocs, or hyenas, or those bloody tsetse flies.
And don’t even get me started on elephants and humans. The intelligentsia of the animal world, the primates and the pachyderms; they’re just as bad as the rest, just as clueless to their intended roles.
No, I get a bad rap. We get a bad rap. Others, they think it’s all fun and tans and laying in the sand all day, but that’s really not it. Their thought processes are like radio static. “Look mate,” I say, “you just don’t get how much we have to work. All that laying around is hard work, love. You think we’re being lazy all day but you don’t stick around to see what happens when a zebra gets too close to where I’m lying in wait. Being the King, it’s not all fun and games, sometimes you have to wake up and smell the territorial markings, and that’s hard work too. It’s all about patience, vigilance, and above all, respect for the proper order of things. Sure, you’re safe now, but what are you – ten, twelve inches from my paws? I dare you to come and say it to my face.”
I’d challenge any one of them to spend a few days in my paws; that’s all I’m saying.
Waiting for the bus –
Different lives moving in different directions.
Destined to disappear
Into days of violence and silence –
Evidence of their auspicious passing.