Crazy Libertarian Birdies (Good?)

Are you bitter? Jaded? Cynical? Most always brooding?

Pleased to confirm that I am most definitely none of the above. (Truly sorry about your state, though. Also, why are you reading me?)

I don’t have “a gelatinous black ink that seeps into [my] heart”, recently said a dear friend. (Admired this sentence so much that I scribbled it down on my napkin.)

I still believe in Good (note the ‘G’), and I refuse to accept that other people can’t be Good, but instead that they choose to behave in shit manner. (Layer no1: Pre-destination vs Choice.)

Tangent: I think, perhaps, Goodness is a greater deal of work than not, and there are those who are either too lazy to take the extra steps, or who are happier seeing the seedier shadows of life and giving into them.

I would welcome a challenge to this point, so please feel free to engage.End Tangent.)

So, yes. I believe that people can be Good…that they strive to be Good…that they give the cash register girl the dollar too much she gave them…that they don’t take advantage of others even when the opportunity presents itself…that they will place the welfare of others above their own comfort…that they refuse to play in the gray areas of honesty…that they’ll give money to the junkie rather than a lecture…that they’ll tread carefully when allowed into another heart…that they’ll work to be better & to do better…and…that they’ll be kind…and that they’ll be kinder still.

I like that I am still that girl. And to anyone whose attempted to shit on my parade? I just end up feeling sorry for you…

Infuriating, yes? Infuriating that you can’t make me into the image of you. You’re so sad. Really.

My life. My rules.

The above is not to say that I don’t sometimes just fkn hate people.

Take last week, as example.
I was in a right state all last week. Anything said to me, any comments made or jokes attempted or courtesies extended? It took everything out of me not to be rude. For no apparent reason other than: I felt like it.

Some stupid asshole, not French used the word ‘chic’ to describe the image I have as my bberry screen saver and my brain launched WWIII against my arms and hands because all I felt like doing was smashing my ‘chic’ imaged bberry across his face, but rational thought kept interrupting…and winning.

Tangent: For all of the nice in me, I am equally volatile. I just control it and exercise it differently than most. End Tangent.

Team Goodness!

They actually *pop* beneath your feet

This City was buried beneath singing birds and cool breezes this morning. I was having an 80s dance party and drinking my morning coffee, when my dream dawned on me.

I slipped my feet into my slippers and my toes were greeted by an ant. The ant stare-ded at my toes, sighed, and finally said “Toes? How are you?”

When my toes didn’t respond; the ant sighed again and then s/he crawled over my toes, the arc of my foot, and paused at my ankle, at which point, I reacted perhaps a little hysterically.

Then I woke up to the heat of the sun, and forgot about the dream until dancing around the Treehouse.

Do you remember Marvin (Under Glass)? Read him as a refresher to know of my phobia of all which crawls, that is not an awkwardly fat child.

Two Wednesdays back, I was in my kitchen and noticed that there were several black ants in my kitchen and so I grabbed my trusted insect killer (Lysol, I love thee) and went after them one by one. And then I Googled “WTF is it with ants, anyway” only more like “Why are there ants in my kitchen and how can I kill them with natural product?” before calling mama and asking “am I dirty because I thought ants meant people were dirty?”.

Luckily. There is an ant infestation in Ottawa this summer, and I am not dirty. Take heed, fellow Ottawans. Ottawites? Ottawati? You have been warned.

(Concoction to naturally repel ants? My back door step is drenched in black pepper, cinnamon & bay leaves.

& For the record, I almost passed out trying to find an appropriate photo for this entry. Note that this gorgeous image was taken by Rundstedt B. Rovillos. Even though the subject matters make me want to cry, his work is truly amazing.)

Red Light Hooker

 
That’s the mac light which Janey brought as a gift for my Treehouse.

It now sits in my bedroom window and I have decided that I shall use it as (a very large) nightlight.
 
Which reminds me of the Red Light District hookers who were waving at mama, while we were on a tour bus in Amsterdam. 
 
“Look”, she had said, “there are girls in windows!  They look like dolls!  They’re so pretty!  And they’re so nice!  They are waving at us!  Amsterdam is such a nice place full of such nice people!”
 
Her world was too pretty so I never did tell her the truth.

If she were outside my window, she would no doubt smile, wave, and maybe offer to make me a snack.
 
I have said it before and will say it again; I, cartoon, am daughter to a Muppet.

Three wee videos from the Vancouver Winter Olympics

Leaving for Rome & London tomorrow and I promise stories while there; thank you for the well wishes re travels…xox

Video no1 – Kitty took this while we were on Cypress Mountain waiting for the men’s aerials to begin.

Video no2 – The final few moments before Canadian girls win hockey Gold.

Video no3 -”The kind of hail that breaks your face…” (thank you, Baby Jane)

Comments closed.

First snowfall

“Serene”
“Lovely”
“Blissful”
“Peaceful”
“Calm”

These are only a few of the words used by folks when discussing the first snowfall of the year. For instance, today I was speaking with someone who described this day as one akin to a “blanket of warmth”.

Standing back sipping my coffee I wondered quietly what kind of hashish this individual had smoked, and surely it was laced with something chemical? Because, are you serious?

The first snowfall is oftentimes accompanied by my brothers and sisters Canuck who – having invented the world’s warmest winter jacket – can’t remember how to drive slowly or carefully and so more often than not, usually kill a few other Canucks during the first 24 hours of this prick we call Winter.

Today is precisely this day in Ottawa, the one for which I have been preparing since early October when I began wearing my very large parka, taking up much too much room on both elevators and buses, suffocating at least one person who dared stand next to me (much in the same way as the effects of quicksand, this is what happens when one is caught in the outer layer of my parka). Really, everywhere I go I take up the same space as a baby elephant. Thanks, Canada Goose.(1)

Since morning, there has been neither calm nor peace. There has, however, been an endless array of sirens and ambulances rushing about in an attempt to keep up with the useless Canuck drivers who keep forgetting how to drive in such weather. As equally bothersome are three other minor sounds: the slobbering of wet pant bottoms across floors and carpets; snow pelting at one’s exposed skin including eyeballs; and, the yelps of people as they crash over snowbanks and slide off of sidewalks.

…and one major sound, that of the shovel scraping across the walkways and driveways. The sound most bothersome to your webMum most especially when she is the one generating said noise.

We recently purchased a very pretty snow-blower. It remains pretty and shiny and lovely, sitting quietly in the corner of the garage because I am too afraid to use her. This evening, I walked into the garage and stood quite still in front of the snow-blower, staring at her very hard, willing her to tell me how she is to be used.

If we were in a relationship, she would have said something like: I don’t mind if you occasionally have a thing with Mr. Shovel, or even Miss. Broom, depending on the amount of snow that drops. But the moment you need real and serious support, you had better come to me. Or it’s over. Because between you and me, that’s the only thing that really gets me going…

I walked away from the snow-blower with the same amount of knowledge I had when I approached her – zip. I don’t know how to use one and I am in fact scared to use one. They are really loud and look like they could run away if you don’t strap them to your arms. And, what if I blow snow in the wrong direction? Like, into the wind? Or at my neighbor? Or in my ear?

Anyway. All the above to say that today was Ottawa’s first prick of a snowfall. I shoveled while a beautiful snow-blower sat in the garage warm and cozy. I did this while padded into my parka…and later realized that had I just laid down and rolled across both my walkway and my driveway, the size of me in my parka would have done a better job than Mr. Shovel.

**********
(1) I am rendering null and void my prior thought that Javier Bardem smolders. For the record, please let it show that I now find his head much too large for his shoulders and so think he is creepy looking. Thanks very much.

Peace Negotiations at the Doctor’s Office

I am writing this on the berry directly into Blogger, so please pardon the spelling errors and grammar flubs.

I am here for an annual check-up and it seems that tempers are high and patience is low.

A walk-in patient was taken in before a woman with an appointment. The woman with an appointment very aggressively challenged the walk-in’s husband (still seated outside in the common area). A combination of ‘your wife shouldn’t have gone in before me’ to ‘she was an emergency case, you don’t get to make that call’ was fine, though annoying.

Suddenly, it becamse ‘shut up’ to ‘no, I think you’d better shut up’, too loudly and aggressively for any good to come of it.

Clearly, we’d just stepped into the Middle East peace negotiations.

I am seated in a slightly separate area, though we could all see one another. As soon as the ‘shut up’s were introduced, I put my book down and went over to calm both cartoon characters down since the nurses and admin assistants were merely watching in fascination.

When I first threw my hat into the ring, the husband turned his aggression toward me. Thankfully, I somehow pulled the right comments out of my ass and he laughed and I was able to sit next to Woman-With-Appointment and cool both of their shit down.

No more than 5 minutes it took to confirm they weren’t angry at one another, but rather the administration. Also, that it was Monday and no one wanted to start their week off being told to shut up. And that it was rude to do so, under any circumstance where the players are above the age of 7.

When they focussed their attention on The Man rather than one another, I excused myself to come here and tell you, because I think there’s an important lesson to be learned: honestly, and without tongue in cheek, if peace is what you want to find, then peace is precisely what you’ll get. (There’s usually almost always common ground, if you’re interested in finding and owning it – even with the greatest of asshats. We just need to care enough, and I sometimes find it easier with a stranger who I don’t know from a hole in the wall, than with someone I know personally who has hurt either myself or someone I love.)

As the Woman-With-Appointment left, she said “thanks for stepping in…I was getting nervous because I don’t think he was going to stop”, and as the husband was leaving, he flipped me a thumb’s up and offerred a “you did good, kid”.

Score:
Maha 1
Week 0

*Sigh*. I wish COACH ERIC TAYLOR (HI!) had been here to witness my -clearly – supreme negotiation skills.

On the 1st day of Ramadan

“O ye who believe! Stand out firmly for God, as witnesses to fair dealing, and let not the hatred of others to you make you swerve to wrong and depart from justice. Be just: that is next to piety; and fear God.”
- Qur’an 5:8

I hope your first day of fasting was as rewarding as intended.

hug a canuck, please & thank you

Happy Virtual Canada Day from a bonfire bbq with Gogol Bordello as our soundtrack. Have fun and be safe, kittens…xo

Iran article & Crone’s disease

Hi all – am not off radio silence as of yet, but must share following info. (By the way, rabble article on #iranelection goes live tomorrow morning at 9 am est.)

As has been mentioned previously, Baby J. moved to Halifax a wee while back. She has a new friend (yay!) named Jasmine, and from what Janey tells me of her, she is very nice, talented and is keeping sweet Baby Jane from feeling lonely in her new digs. (Thank you, Jasmine, she of the flowery name.)

What follows is an email from Janey, for your attention, please. Would greatly appreciate if you would share with all you know.
 
Dear Maha/Gorgeous/Raven/Meesho/Kove:
Remember I was telling you about my new friend Jasmine? I am hoping you can help her and I with a project by posting this on your wonderful blog so all your wonderful blog friends can help.
 
Jasmine has crone’s disease and has dealt with it all her life. Last year, she made a film called Glamour Guts, a funny short about how to stay fabulous with bowel disease – something lots of people struggle/live with, but don’t discuss. The film has been selected as one of three finalists for the CBC Short Film Face Off contest. If she wins, the prize will help her make her next film (a tragicomedy about grief).

The winner of the contest is determined by (40 hours only!) online voting.
 
Please join me in supporting Jasmine by:

First – watching it: Glamour Guts.

Next – between 11pm on SATURDAY JUNE 27 and 6pm on MONDAY JUNE 29 (Atlantic Standard TIme) visit: vote for GLAMOUR GUTS (if it pleases you. -maha).
 
Each person can vote up to 5 times (if you clear your cookies –you might be able to vote more than that)

Please pass on to your friends, friends of friends, family, friends of family, acquaintances, friends of acquaintances, acquaintances of acquaintances (who am I missing? family of friends of acquaintances) that you think would appreciate the movie. Family, friends of family, acquaintances etc. living abroad? No problem, they can vote too.
 
Kove yoy,
Baby J.

Comments closed. Radio silence still on. Check rabble tomorrow, please…x

hi

Hi all. About to observe a little radio silence for next few days, as day job is topsy turvy fun *and* I’ve just completed my June contribution to rabble.ca, which was an exhausting piece to write (will post here upon my return to the interWeb). It is extremely dense and I have a terrible tension headache, most certainly my brain is trying to break up with me. In short, it is a word of caution about the possible misunderstanding and blowback of spin re iran ‘reformists’. If you wish to read it before next week, then just keep an eye on rabble over coming days.

Also, will start responding to all delinquent emails after this short absence from interWeb/mobile/email noise (Clay, your email is no.1).

Have a good rest and see you next week…xxoo

Comments closed.