If all time is now, and now is all we have, everything that has ever happened is still happening, and everything that will happen is already happening. No wonder we have memories the way we do. I think our brains would collapse under the weight of trying to assimilate all that information.

I saw on a documentary recently that human brains have receptor sites that are equipped to “receive” THC. Not the kind you smoke, but the kind your brain actually makes. It is a chemical that keeps you from remembering every person you saw on the street today, or every single detail of each day of your life. But the natural chemical is not THC, just similar.

It’s the Dope Show.

But I definitely don’t advocate the regular use of Mary Jane. She gets into your frontal lobe and makes your ability to empathize about the size of a pea, and she kicks the shit out of your motivational centers. I don’t want to have a discussion with anyone about it, so don’t send me any info. I’ve seen brain scans and studied them. I’ve worked with psychiatrists/medical doctors on this. Have you? No? Then go away. She’s great for making you eat though, no Greek or southern Mammy could push food harder.

But going back to memories…I was reminded yesterday of a beautiful dream I had when I was going through terrible personal distress. I brought it on myself. I was convinced I was doing the right thing. I listened to my heart, rather than to reason. And when you only listen to one, rather than both, you get yourself into deep trouble.

But this lovely dream I had was that I was helping people who were on a bus who had been injured in some way, and I was distressed because I felt that I couldn’t get to them all in time. The Dalai Lama appeared to me and said, “There is enough time. Always enough time. You forget to smile when you help sometimes. Remember to smile.” And he gave me this HUGE grin, and started laughing, and I started laughing, and I had a profound sense of joy.

I’m not a Buddhist. Just a Light Bearer. I can’t lay claim to any religion, but I am so grateful for that dream. I was watching an interview with the Lama yesterday, which is what reminded me of the dream. And in that interview, he was talking about smiling, talking about being joyful. So that is what I worked on today, joyfully, being happy in my work, remembering the gratitude I have for the work, and the joy of helping others. I forget that all too often. Maybe you do too. Smile and be joyful! It is so much more fun than the grind.

And I am SO  grateful that I don’t remember every single memory, and every single pain.

Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a great Christmas, and/or whatever it is you celebrate. New Year’s was fun at Wendy and Mike’s, with the unexpected addition of Michelle’s Uncle Butch, who brought what is basically a version of dirty pictionary. High amusement for drunken and non drunken souls. All you need is at least the memory of what it was like to be a junior high boy or girl, and there you go.

I hate my kitchen. I hate my lack of kitchen. I also hate my living room. I hate my lack of living room. I try to remind myself that there are starving children in Africa who would be appreciative of my lack of kitchen and living room, and would use the space for target practice or something, rather than just storage space for varying grades of clean and dirty clothes. I hate my lack of drawer and hanging space with which to put away the clean and dirty clothes.

The word “Contractor”, which is one I’ve never been particularly drawn to, begins to sound like the beginnings of a possible symphony.

I should be working like a slave right now, and I”m going to hop to it. The boss has promised the state that we will have the largest amount of paperwork we’ve ever processed completed by next Friday. I’m not sure how that will happen, as there are no house elves around here to complete what we started after dark. But I will hope. HYAH!

I am seriously lucky. I am totally grateful. I can’t believe how amazing people can be sometimes. You know who you are. Thank you!

Sometimes in this blog, I wench a lot. In fact, more often than not, I am wenching about something. Sometimes I do it comically, sometimes I do it without any grace or precision whatsoever. And then sometimes, I am inspired to say something more.

I believe that there are Lightbearers on this planet. The task of being a Lightbearer is to illuminate where darkness is, has been, and to heal wounds left behind when darkness has left damage in its wake. Everyone, I believe, unless you are something other that human, has the potential to be a Lightbearer. Some people are born knowing they are here to do something to help, to heal, to be of service to others. Some people discover it later. Some people have to journey through darkness to discover that they have the ability, and the choice, to hold light. Each Lightbearer has a specific talent, sometimes many talents that create joy and happiness where it was not before.

So, I believe that there is a spark of the divine in each one of us. When we recognize someone we’ve never met, when we meet someone we never expected to meet, when we become amazed, awed, overwhelmed by beauty, by art, by performance, by music, by a story, by reality, and we feel so incredible in that moment-that is a connection to the divine.

Really, we have that spark all the time. It can become difficult in ordinary, normal, uneventful days to forget about it. But I think the point is that we are supposed to create it, bring it out to shine on those days, to look for something amazing within the apparently mundane.

Think of how terrible is feels to be lost, disconnected, to feel unimportant, untalented, unloved, unnoticed, unappreciated, unrecognized. That is a smothering of your spark. Sometimes it’s you, doing it to yourself. Sometimes it’s others who have snuffed their spark, or have forgotten.

Don’t forget. Remember the truth. If you’ve snuffed out your spark, rekindle it. There is no finding yourself. You create yourself. Answers are within you, and all around you. I wish you all well, and to be at peace, and to enjoy the magic of the season, but to keep it with you, all year round, by remembering your spark.

Last night, I went home very tired. I spent about 10 hours at work, even though that doesn’t count for anything. So, I asked my husband to let me sleep for an hour and a half. I woke up later and knew that I had slept much, much longer.

“What time is it?” I inquired.

“Eleven!” He smiled.

This created a conversation about why he let me sleep so long and he said he was hoping I would sleep through the night. Sigh. No. I have tried that game.

So I felt like I had never left work, really, by the time I took my new goodnight medicine, although I did make it through a Farscape and some downloading of an ancient but enjoyable game.

And then I crashed out. Waking this morning was awful. I definitely didn’t take the new med early enough. You know when you have that waking where you can barely get your eyes open and you try really hard, but you can’t really move? That is me every morning, although this morning it was times 5.

Yeesh. As I write, I feel like I’m underwater. I’m praying the coffee helps wake me.

I never really did leave work either, as I dreamt of my boss telling me that she was only keeping me around until she hired other people. I was protesting, telling her I do good work, and she said she didn’t care, I was part of a bad crew of people, but she wouldn’t let me quit either, so I could go looking elsewhere. You think I have some nerves about work? Definitely. 4 people have been fired in the last 3 months. Dropping off like flies.

But hey, if I want to keep my job, I better “Get to work slave! YAH!”

I saw a saying somewhere about blogging…something to the effect of “Never before have so many people written so many things that other people don’t care about.” This, is, probably, sadly true.

But I’m still going to do it. Nyah.

Where the hell are the computers that I want? The ones that aren’t even touch screen. The ones where you can wave your hand over the panel and it senses where you want to go and what you want it to do. Where is my computer that understands my voice perfectly well, and will follow the command I give it?

I think someone is hoarding this technology, and I suggest we storm the castle, because I think that would be much cooler than what we’ve got going now.

You can tell I’m tired of dealing with my work computer. Since I have discovered the glories of Linux and Ubuntu and Kubuntu, I have little patience for Windows anymore.

This is another thing that could be destroyed when the barbarians kick the door in.

Today, at work, at the risk of being the only person who didn’t decorate my office door besides the boss, I decorated the damn door.

Now, Wendy and her mother observed me wrapping Christmas presents many moons ago, and asked, “What the hell are you doing?” The job I thought I was doing was just fine. My mom wrapped them in a sloppy way I guess, and I was just following her lead. We never cared. We were children-greedy to see what was inside.

But the Myers family does not do this. And since I wrap at their house, because there is a lot of room to spread out, they have taught me to wrap presents. Carefully. Neatly. Where ends meet up. I now know how to make bows. I can make those neat springy ribbons with scissors. Last year, I did so well, I was even complimented. That’s saying something. I think Santa trained them or something. They are grade A wrappers. IT MUST BE PERFECT.

But nothing in my wrapping training taught me how to wrap a door. And, as per usual, I went for asthetics, rather than practicality. So, did I get several loooooooong rolls of paper, since these are like 7 foot doors? NO! Of course not. I bought short rolls of shiny stuff, because I liked it. Then I went to the damn craft store, which I hate, because I feel like they KNOW that I am not a crafty person. They give me a LOOK when I ask where something is. I think I shall start referring to the craft stores as cult stores. They are a secret society, as far as I’m concerned.

I went to the craft store for two reasons. One, to get something for a friend who is part of this cult. Two, to see if they had spraypaint, which would save me from going across the street in the traffic. They DID have spraypaint. So now, the plan is to spraypaint some old Halloween black angel’s wings with gold and silver and some pearly stuff, and then glue gun them to the door.

And even though the wings will look cool, I did not enjoy this process. I kept thinking evil thoughts, like, “I bet warriors wouldn’t decorate a door. Xena wouldn’t decorate a door. Aeryn Sun wouldn’t decorate a door. Starbuck would not decorate a door. Amazons wouldn’t decorate a door. THEY would kick the door in. I WANT to kick this frelling, fraking, effing door in. THAT would be fun.  Not only would they kick the door in, they would light the paper on fire, use it to humiliate their enemies, and possibly use it as toilet paper. They would destroy everything in the office, except if it was good loot.

I kicked a door in once. I LOVED it. It opened on the first try and everything.

But this is not fiction. This is real life. And I had to show willing, and decorate a door. I am just not one of those women who has craft bred into me. I don’t know how to sew on a button. I mean, I could figure it out, I suppose, but it probably wouldn’t be the exactly correct way.

Other thoughts that went through my head: “Why doesn’t this effing paper stick? What the hell is wrong with this tape? What the hell is wrong with ME that I can’t make this tape do what I want? Why won’t the godsdamn ribbon stick? Shit! The paper is crumply-even through I stretched it out and it was even when I taped it. Oh NO! I used one roll and the other roll doesn’t match up. Why am I doing this at all? Everyone is going to laugh at my door. They will know I’m not crafty. I hate this door. “  

Why are we decorating doors? Well, in theory, because we want to make the office look cheery. But in reality, as with all things relating to women, it is about competition. The best office door wins a prize. Of stained glass, that one of the women who works here makes. So we can all admire it and go “ooooooooooo.”

Am I upset because my door is crap and will not win the prize? No. I just think it’s silliness that I bent to peer pressure. Office spaces are worse than drugs by far. They will get you to do things you never wanted to do, never dreamed of doing, and will do things that you look back on with 20/20 and think, “Why did I do that? I will never do THAT again at any other job. Life is too short.” But you have to work, so you’ll fall off the wagon, eventually. You’ll decorate some other damn thing, or participate in their yearly Fun Run or their Party Picnic where everyone is awkward and wants to get drunk, but not too drunk, because then you will be drunk in front of co-workers. Or the party at the bosses house, which is, by the worst kind of party, because you are totally obligated to go, and you are also obligated to not have any fun, but to make it look like you are.

Alas.

But hey, Kristi arrives today! AWESOMESAUCE!!!

Well, the way to get cheered is to do things you like. And appreciate things and people. SO.

I love my husband. I love Kristi and Wendy, and all my other awesome friends.

I love Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s writings. I love Charlaine Harris and her Sookie Books. I love Harry Potter. I love Zalazny books. I love books in general.

Right now, husband has me on a Farscape binge. If you missed this wonderful show, go find it and watch it. Muppets. Outer Space. Sex. Guns. Weird Aliens. Good writing. Good effects. What more could you want? And it’s 10 years old!

I love reiki. I love spiritual pursuits.

I love kickass action movies. Matrix, V for Vendetta, Star Wars….there are so many.

I love good food. I love to be warm. I love my sister’s music. I love Tori Amos’s music, even the weird stuff, even though I don’t know what the hell she’s trying to pull off with that. Perhaps keeping herself OUT of the mainstream.

But I do not love this kind of rubbery and tasteless hot ham and cheese sandwich I got at the deli in the basement of the bank. I love that I have a cookie and cheetos though.

I don’t really know what the wise men and women have to say about things that go wrong in civilization. Does a yogi in Tibet have to worry that he met his productivity numbers that are arbitrarily selected? Does he have to deal with the fact that his effing paperclips tangle? No. Because he’s a yogi. He sits on his zen pouffe and has no bills, and lives on prana and yak’s milk. He does not have to deal with effing “TPS” reports. (Thank you Office Space.)

I am not a yogi. Today, the zen I have is allowing myself to feel how I feel without judging it. So, I’ll say this. Today I wish I was Darth Vader, or any Darth really, they were all a bunch of assholes who knew how to get things done in the way that dictators everywhere do. They made it somebody else’s problem. (SEP) Thank you Mr. Adams.

My problem is that right now, I am the someone else. I actually don’t even want to be a dictator to others, I just want to be my own dictator. I have been to 7 years of university. I am getting too old, too skeptical, and too something-or-the-other to be the person that deals with SEP.

I hate working for the man right now, even though the man pays me well, because working for the man means you are expendable. I have watched 3 co-workers get fired in as many months. It’s been kind of like watching Darth do that slow squeeze thing to people’s necks without touching them.

So, am I envious of the power to do that? I suppose, because I think I would put it to better use. But, that’s the problem with people-we all think we’ve got the best idea.

I think the best idea for me is to be my own boss, asap, and never again allow the empire to interfere with my business dealings.

However, I am very excited that Kristi is coming soon! YAY DE SEESTOR!!!!!!!!

I officially think the holiday album Midwinter Graces by Tori Amos is the best thing she’s done in years. And I love all Tori, even the weird stuff. It is awesome. Don’t illegally download this one. It’s worth buying.