If I already have a life, why do I need a second one?

I just heard about this cyberworld called Second Life in my Media Lit class. Our professor shared a story of a couple who met in Second Life and got married in real life. Well, one day the wife saw the husband's Avatar (which is basically a little character that you pretend is you) sitting on a couch with another female avatar in Second Life. Now she has divorced him for cheating on him.

WTF?!

I had to stifle my uproarious laughter so as to not disturb the class. I have never heard of anything so tragically ridiculous. How sad that people can actually feel as though this virtual reality is truly "real life". It's one thing if he were discovered flirting in a chat room with another woman, since that is likened to flirting in person. But these avatars are not even real. *sigh*

I have an avatar. Her name is Serendipity and she "lives" in Yoville, which is a cyberworld available on Facebook. Although I, too, participate in such an activity, my grasp of reality remains strong. I know that Serendipity is just a bunch of pixels in a graphically created program on a friggin computer. "She" goes to a "factory" and earns her "coins" to buy "furniture". This is just a cartoon character that I find mildly amusing at best. Notice I don't even refer to it as "her". She is NOT REAL.

Technology is clearly leading our society astray, when a couple meets, marries, then breaks up based on activities in cyberspace. Human beings are yearning for a true connection, and technology keeps separating us from each other.

Consider online communities like Facebook, myspace and the like. These sites are supposedly intended to bring friends together, but I gotta tell ya that I see maybe a tenth of these folks in real life situations, mostly on an infrequent basis. My myspace page has about 200 + "friends" on it, and I know that about 3 of them are real friends. In fact, out of this group of faces on a page, I speak to one of them in person regularly. Otherwise, that is exactly what they are: faces on a page.

So I guess I am not surprised that their relationship didn't last. After all, they met each others' avatars, not each other. Healthy relationships include real, live meetings to get to know one another; not what clothes their avatars are wearing, but who they truly are as people. They were doomed from the start, using alter egos in graphic form to make a good impression.

If you are someone using an avatar to pick up guys/gals, just remember that a cartoon is make believe and we humans are flesh and blood. Real people cannot hide who they are, even if they try really hard. Besides, an avatar can't give snuggles and kisses like a real man or woman can. They can't comfort you when you are down, share in your joy, or raise your kids. You might wanna try taking a risk and going out into the world to find that special someone. Reality is far more exciting and wonderful than any fantasy world.

Use 3 Words

I write things. I manipulate words. Experts advise practice. They suggest trilogies. Threes communicate concisely. This necessitates creativity. I recommend this. Use three words. Do it correctly. Notice the challenge? Keep work fresh. Keep it simple. Shorter is better. Sometimes we elaborate. Others will pontificate. I just write. Habitually I ramble. So trilogies help. Practice improves skill. Wordplay is chill. I use slang. That is okay. Whatever works today. Now I rhyme. I have time. Can you relate?

I choose wisely. Yet words flow. I need change. Growth is evident. Pain is immenent. Relief comes next. Joy will follow. Everything is connected. Our planet spins. Our stars shine. Babies are born. People grow up. I create imagery. Progress replaces perfection. Awareness succeeds reduction. Pain precedes growth. Sometimes we cry. We all die.

Keep it real. Live life fully. Spread peace around. Share your love. Enjoy the moment. Seize the day.

Tra la la LAH!

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. Baby, you give love…a bad name.”

My neighbor across the way has been singing again. Bon Jovi is not her usual, however. She is an opera singer.

I am privileged to listen to opera almost every night. This woman is apparently practicing for an upcoming performance. Although I do not typically welcome any loud noises while settling in and eventually drifting off to sleep, this is different. Her voice would never qualify as “noise”. She sounds so beautiful, I find myself opening my kitchen window and remaining quiet so as to get a taste of her arias. I am grateful to have my bathroom window open in her direction as well, so that she can sing me to sleep.

We have never met. I don’t even know where she lives. She has made me so relaxed, I forget that my other neighbors nearby have porch lights that could light up a football field, which might as well be shining directly into my bedroom.

She is MY opera singer. I am being serenaded by her sweet dulcet tones, and can almost feel the tension release upon hearing her first notes. I also have the tune called “Opera Singer” by Cake stuck in my head all the time now. So, when I am not home I often think of her. A part of me wishes for her to remain anonymous, so as to retain the mystery. Of course, I am also dying to put a face with the voice. For now, I will just enjoy my nightly concerto in the comfort of my adorable little home.

Earwigs Love Artichokes Too

I love gardening. This season, I discovered that my artichoke plant was finally producing some beautiful thistles for my dining pleasure. I had a total of 4 awesome chokes in all. Well, I went on a road trip last week, having forgotten that I had a couple waiting for me. This was perfect timing. I had next to nothing in the fridge. I always like to have something green, and this qualify, even if they are not technically a vegetable.

Two nights ago, I steamed one, and decided to peel off the leaves beforehand. I usually just peel as I go, but I wanted to enjoy it without having to scoop out the heart. It was ready to eat. Yum. Sometimes I like to eat two at a time. This gives me more meat. I will tend to eat fast and furious, as if my life depended on it. I have been working on that. But still, I scarf my food down.

So…Even though I had pre-peeled, I hadn't noticed that some earwigs had decided to make this artichoke their home. I had boiled them along with my meal. One of the leaves I had eaten had one stuck to it. Ewww! Thankfully, it had been the leaf on the bottom of my stack, so I had not really eaten an earwig, but I was close.

Here's the deal. I am a lover of all living things. Correction: most living things. No matter how hard I try, I just cannot like the earwig. My last home was in a studio where it tended to get a little moist. I had a very large earwig infestation once that totally grossed me out. They were right outside my front door, and making their way inside. There were literally hundreds of them swarming at my doorstep. Those pincers creep me out, and the scales are reminiscent of cockroaches.

I am one of those people who carry a Daddy Long Legs out, gently laying them down on the porch. That is not the case with earwigs. I will step on them, flush them, whatever it takes to get them as far away from me as humanly possible.

Apparently, this time, I cooked them up as a delicacy.

Knowing my feelings about earwigs, I decided to try not to make too big of a deal out of this. I carefully inspected each artichoke leaf, remembering that the crunch I tasted was in fact the garlic in my butter and not a bug. This was challenging, but I got through it. The fact that the artichoke was absolutely delicious really helped.

Last night, I thoroughly rinsed my choke, peeled beforehand, AND looked at the leaves before devouring my feast. Luckily, there were no earwigs present in this one. Whew.

I survived a near earwig consumption, and did not have nightmares. There is a God.

Summer Break

At the beginning of each summer break, I often feel a little out of control. School is officially over, so I know I have no plans, at least for a couple of weeks. I end up ditching my routine almost entirely and tend to stay up til the wee hours, complaining later about how I feel horrible being tired. So here I am at 10:35pm, at a crossroads. I could continue on the same self destructive path, known in some circles as a state of SLOTH. Or, I could change my behavior. Hmm.

Here's the rub: I am trying to loosen up a little. I am so attached to a certain routine, particular foods, etc, that I feel like I ought to shake things up a bit. But instead, I turn to meaningless internet activities when I have free time. I isolate in my kitchen, googling things like Pastor Britt (on You Tube), who I used to know as plain ole Britt, or Burt. I went to high school with him, and the last time I saw him in person, he was walking across our stage at graduation yelling "Burt don't surf!". Now he gives sermons at Reality Church in Carpinteria that are reminiscent of Baptist fire and brimstone with some sales pitch mixed in.

Anyway...the point is that all of this free time drives me crazy. I am stuck between overplanning and becoming one of those people who play guitar hero for 5 hours straight (just making that up, as a good example of what I am doing).

My road trip is another fine example of trying to mix things up, Michelle style. I took nearly every item of clothing I own (and wore only 2-3 outfits), all my regular foods in a cooler, and my favorite utensils and dishes. I loaded my car to the brim, including a guitar I never played, and a beach chair I never sat in. I drove 7-9 hours a day (!) to the weirdest places. Some were quite breathtaking, others were downright nasty. I visited my friend Rozanna and her family. That was ok. But other than that, what was my motive for taking a trip anyway? Well, I had time to kill and money burning a hole in my checking account. Why not stay in a motel near a meth smoker who yelled at his girlfriend about peeing in the bed, among other things. BTW, I smelled meth in the bathroom after my shower, and still smelled it on my nightie the next night. I was so grossed out! Other than the obvious entertainment factor for writing an interesting book, why did I endure such ridiculousness?

Well, because I needed something to do.*sigh*

Here's my solution: I will sign up for a class of interest, like meditation, yoga, or hiking. I will plan on attending said activity once a week. I will go to more meetings, and do more writing. I also need a part time job, so that ought to keep me sorta busy. And...I could call my friends more often. Lunch dates at Daily Grind would be very pleasant. Butterfly Beach is awesome, as always. My bald friend returns from New York soon. Hmm. I should discuss the bald one in another blog. Yes, I could write about him all day long, and into the night. Ha ha.

See, I have plenty to do. Wish me luck with that. I am gonna need it.

Going to Any Lengths With Macrame and christianity with a little c

Sunday, May 11, 2008


I had a lovely Mother's Day dinner at the folks' house tonight. We talked for an hour or so about various topics, beginning with my sneaking out as a teen and ending with christian with a little "c".

So here's the story. I only snuck out of my bedroom window once. After that, my dad simply screwed it in place so I could not even open the window. I was probably around 15 years old at the time, just starting to get a little crazy, but not so bad that I got arrested or injured...yet. That was not until I became a legal adult. Anyway, it astounds me that I didn't just take out the screw. Maybe I was scared of getting busted for taking it out, or worried I wouldn't be able to replace it? It also surprises me that I didn't use the front door. That is all I remember doing, although the memory of the window came back upon reflection.

My mom asked me tonight if I remembered the bells on the front door. I was drawing a total blank. She told me that they nailed an old macrame wall hanging above the door (I remember it as a plant holder actually) so the bells attached to it would sound if I snuck out. I think this is hilarious, imagining some ugly macrame whatever thing over the door to deter their wayward teen from sneaking out. Instead of confrontation, they used tactics that would (conceivably) prevent me from leaving. Tonight, I referred to this as "natural consequences". They usually had no problem with confronting me about this kind of stuff, as I recall. But perhaps what I remember is young adulthood, when I bounced in and out of living there and just came and went through the front door. The bells were gone by then for sure.

The other challenge I had was when my mom would be awake, watching TV, after getting a call from a patient. She often would have trouble getting back to sleep, and was up at all hours at times, in the living room near the front door. In my 20s, I would do the walk of shame, reeking of booze at 3-4am, disappointed that I couldn't make food. When I could make something to nibble on, it was a full course meal of cheap elbow macaroni and tomato paste, seasoned with lots of spices.

My mom asked me where I went when I snuck out. As an adult, I told her a few likely places without hesitation. We usually went down to a place in Carpinteria (CA) called the Square, above the beach. Sometimes we went to State Park, and other times down to Shit Creek, as we so lovingly called the creek near our shores. Carpas, or Carp (Carpinteria for short) is a small town, so everyone knows everyone and everything you're doing. My parents didn't know the details, but I am sure they could have guessed that there was drinking involved. I am not sure if the vomiting and confusion set in until age 17, but there was definitely beer and boys. Actually, I was hanging with men in their late 20s, early 30s. Not such a good scene, in fact.

As I ought to get into my cozy bed soon, I will tell you about the christian with a little "c" part of this story. My mom was brought up Jewish, and does not practice any formal religion. Although we celebrate Passover and Hannukah, we are not orthodox and have never been to temple. My dad has a Christian upbringing, his parents following the King James Version of the Bible. I went to Protestant church as a wee child, but do not currently attend any congregation. My mom has claimed over the years to be an atheist. One time she did qualify as spiritual, however. I totally understand this. Anyway, we were discussing religion and all its aspects, all the way from Religious Serpent Handling in the Pentacostal churches of West Virginia, to ancient history, to Catholicism vs. all other Christian sects. Specifically, my mom was referring to those in the Catholic Church suffering through this life, with the belief that the after life will be better, and the others' belief in being good in this life.

I believe in the power of being completely in the present moment. The Universe, power greater than ourselves, or what some call God, takes care of the rest. I believe in consequences for our behavior, that either will serve us or will not. I want to remember daily that all beings want to be free from suffering and want happiness, that compassion for others is paramount.

That being said, my mom's closing thoughts on the subject were, "I believe in being christian with a little c. You know, living by the Ten Commandments." She was saying that a good life did involve some rules, but that all we need to worry about is being kind to one another. Nice. I like that kind of simplicity.

Flying Squirrels Are Legal in Texas

Saturday, May 10, 2008

When asked if he has any pets, my checker Ron at Trader Joe's told me he has 2 flying squirrels. They are sisters. He said that they are illegal here (I will not reveal too many personal details about you, Ron), but are of course legal in Texas.

I wonder what qualifies them to be ok there and not here. Do they have more room to fly in Texas? Actually, they don't really fly. They just jump really far. He told me of someone who trained their flying squirrels to fly up and down stairs.

Ferrets are illegal here, too, but I know so many people who have them as pets. They are so cute! I heard that we are allowed to breed them here in California, but not have them. So, as long as we make money off of them, they are ok, huh? That sucks.


My kitty cats would have a field day with these little gals.

Flying squirrels. The ultimate cat toy.

I've gotta go to bed. I probably had you at pet flying squirrels.