Went outside and saw the moon and it made me think of you.

Really, America?

So...I picked up a magazine when I was at Suzie's and came this about American politics:

“Look, these people, they’re fucking retarded.

Rape can’t cause pregnancy? Breastmilk cures homosexuality? I caused a hurricane by challenging creationism?

Who can possibly take these people seriously anymore?

It used to be Republicans didn’t believe in global warming or evolution.

That was bad enough.

Now they don’t even believe in egg + sperm = baby.

Where does Todd Akin think babies come from? Does he think there are separate storks for people who were raped and people who weren’t?

'Hey look at me! I’m the rape stork. I drop off all my babies directly at the orphanage.'

He’s a fucking idiot. Just a plain fucking idiot. I’m sorry - I don’t say that word very often - but it happens to fit in this case. He’s just a fucking idiot.”

Bill Nye, the Science Guy regarding Todd Akin and the Republican Party

Confessions

Candy Chang is an off-the-wall artist that i've admired since I studied her work at college. I'm not into "street" art because for the most part I think it sucks... But Candy Chang's work is aimed at making place (paricularly cities) more emotional which is why I like her projects so much.

One of her most recent projects (which i've just read an article about) that took place between July and August of this year is called 'Confessions' and is based in Las Vegas - as they say: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

According to her website:

Confessions is a public art project that invites people to anonymously share their confessions and see the confessions of the people around them in the heart of the Las Vegas strip. By the end of the exhibit, over an amazing 1500 confessions were displayed on the walls and over half were about sex, love, or fears of dying alone.

Soul mates?

I think they exist.

Just not always as you might think.

I think there are certain people you will meet in your life who you just connect with more than anyone else and you just know it isn't a typical thing and you understand each other perfectly.

And this person won't always be your "significant other". I mean it could be your best friend or sibling or parent or teacher or the person you're dating or whoever...it could be just about anyone you've ever interacted with.

And sometimes - maybe - those not so typical people are not destined to stay in your life forever.

Anyone know the moral of the story?

A DEA officer stopped at our farm yesterday.
"I need to inspect your farm for illegal growing drugs."
I said, "ok, but don't go in that field over there..."
The DEA officer verbally exploded saying, "Mister, I have the authority of the Federal Government with me!" Reaching into his rear pants pocket, the arrogant officer removed his badge and shoved it in my face. "See this fucking badge?! This badge means I am allowed to go wherever I wish - on any land! No questions asked or answers given! Have I made myself clear? Do you understand?"
I nodded politely, apologised, and went about my chores.
A short time later...I heard loud screams, looked up, and saw the DEA officer running for his life, being chased by my big, old, mean bull.
With every step the bull was gaining ground on the officer and it seemed likely that he'd sure enough get gored before he reached safety.
The officer was clearly terrified.
I threw down my tools, ran to the fence, and yelled at the top of my lungs. "Your badge, show him your fucking BADGE!"

It's Just Sand

When things in your life seem, almost too much to handle... When twenty four hours in a day is not enough... Remember the mayonnaise jar and two cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.

When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

‘Now,’ said the professor, as the laughter subsided, ‘I want you to recognise that this jar represents your life.’ The golf balls are the important things - family, children, health, friends, and favorite passions – things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, house, and car. The sand is everything else —the small stuff.

‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ he continued, ‘there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.’ The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

So…

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical check ups. Take your partner out to dinner.

There will always be time to clean the house etc.

‘Take care of the golf balls first — the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.’

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled, ‘I’m glad you asked’, he said. ‘It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.’

Sheer Abandon

She was crying now, out of control, hurting dreadfully. 'Go away, why don't you? Just go away and-'
'But - but what for?' His voice was genuinely bemused. 'What would be the point of that? We love being together. And I really do love you, Jocasta. It's very unfortunate for you that I'm an immature commitment-phobe. But I am maturing. There has to be hope. And meanwhile, why can't we go on as we are? Or - is there someone else? Is that what you're trying to tell me?'
'Of course not.' she said, sniffing, reaching for the handkerchief he was holding out to her. 'I wish there was.' She managed a half smile.
'Well, I don't. And there's certainly no one else for me. Never could be. Not after you.' He reached out tentatively, stroked her cheek. 'Please, Jocasta, give me just a little more time. I'll try very hard to do some growing up. I do want to, I promise.'
'Well-', she hesitated. He leant forward and started to kiss her; tenderly at first, then harder, his mouth working on hers. Against her will, against all common sense, something stirred deep, deep within her, something dark and soft and treacherous. He pushed his hand under her t-shirt, began encircling one of her nipples with his thumb. She shivered in anticipation, then pulled back from him; his eyes on hers were very bright, very tender.
'I meant it,' he said, 'I do love you. I'm sorry if I don't make it plain enough. Now - shall we go and lie down and recover?'
But all through the sex which followed, lovely and healing as it was, Nick gentle and tender, waiting for her a long, long time as she softened, sweetened under him, coaxing her body skilfully in the way he knew best, into a mounting, brightening pleasure; even as she felt her climax gather and grow and then spread out into starry, piercing release, she felt still wary, still hurt; and as she lay beside him, his hand tangling in her hair, his eyes smiling into hers, she knew however much he said he loved her, it was not enough.

- Penny Vincenzi

I'm one fifth of the way into this one hundred and seventy page novel about three women: Clio (who is locked in an unhappy marriage to a self-obsessed, arrogant surgeon), Martha (who gave birth and abandoned a baby in a cleaning cupboard at an airport without telling anyone she was even pregnant), and Jocasta (who's in love with a charming journalist); they're bonded by a secret that was made some fifteen / twenty years before when they all randomly met whilst travelling Asia and Australia.

My bisoprolols look like little hearts...kind of appropriate for heart  medication.

You know what's kind of beautiful?

In French, you don’t really say “I miss you.” You say “tu me manques,” which is closer to “you are missing from me.”

I love that. “You are missing from me.” You are a part of me, you are essential to my being. You are like a limb, or an organ, or blood. I cannot function without you.