This morning's free-write:

<sub>Thursday 19 Nov 2009

The creek has frozen; it is well past summer time. This pen feels achey, old, unaccustomed to being drawn across the page by a wrist which has forgotten what to write.

I am an anxious person, and I care what your hands think of me.

I am concerned -- when a father is charged with sexual abuse for teaching his toddler to identify a part of his own body, I am afraid. I am a minority of sorts in this community -- a willow girl who believes the path to peace is green and the only seeds worth planting are seeds of love.

And I am afraid of others watching. Now, it seems there are regulations across the board. A woman and her child were forced to flee their home. Why? She was charged with abuse through neglect for seeking alternative treatments for her son's cancer. Years later, he is well and cancer-free -- without the chemo.

I am afraid. I do not believe in this system or fulfill its expectations. In this patriot act-era, all things are subject to scrutiny by those given license to abuse the power they have, and anyone can be a spy.

Paranoia? I prefer the term "concern". And to all my fellow lamenters -- I do not believe America was ever great. This nation was not founded on admirable ideals -- it was founded on genocide, slavery, greed. This country was overtaken by raping, murdering, pillaging white supremacists. They worshiped their own greed and drafted up a God to give them justification.

I lament this country -- not because it has fallen under the new regime of leadership, but because it has never been anything but a beast who refuses to die.</sub>


But we work with what we have, do we not? I'm really not that bleak.

I take for granted the many privileges bestowed on me by a thing as arbitrary as location.



In any case -- music is a highly affective medium. Effectual as well, I think. And Muse is a beautiful thing -- an explosion of harmonies and highlights of dissonance. This combined with stunning, highly-political lyrics = Tiger love.



And I have been happy. Who lives a better life than I do? Who is luckier than me? I have been given much, and I have much to be grateful for. Life is a treat. It is a stream of beauty -- each day full of new wonders.

I have learned to speak with my ninja. He requires a forceful, slightly whiney, "Mwow!" to come, a breathy, "prrraaah!" to express affection, and a series of taps upon the desired surface to encourage him to explore. We play fetch with an old shoelace in the morning sun, scrambling up walls, mantles, and furniture to catch that damn string! We watch for birds out the window, alerting the other to something interesting with a soft, "Mra-a-a-a!". I knead his fur and he nuzzles my face. When I put him down, he does figure-8s around my ankles, kneading the ground where he stands.


And the best part? I have three other kitties! Who could be sad with so much love to go around?


_{i am home}