July 17th, 2013

full moon

Listening to the silence, watching the moon.

I tied an apology to a pebble, and dropped it in the bottomless well. I was not greeted with a sound. Sometimes, it turns out that way, but that doesn't stop the sadness.

I will be the first to admit I'm hardly perfect, and there are times when I get angry and cause hurt. Sometimes it's warranted, and a defense. Other times, things could've been resolved in a far quieter fashion.

When you follow the 8th and 9th of the 12 Steps, you are told that you cannot expect forgiveness in every case, but at least you will know in your heart, between you and your Higher Power, that you did the right thing. That's cold comfort when you're talking about friends you care about very much. There are bound to be "casualties", and it doesn't mean it won't hurt for awhile.

All I can do now is move on and hope for the best.


George did not take the bait and step into the live trap last night. I swear I saw him loose across the street but M thinks I'm seeing another cat that looks a lot like him. Either way, I sure hope he gets a clue and lets us trap him. He's very dumb and he won't survive outside for all that long.

Today M called me on my new phone, and I got to hear my delightfully cheesy sci fi ringtone.


I have made a new close friend on SL; he's someone I friended long ago when he and his then-partner were looking for a new family. They have broken up in the meantime. He's been very affectionate, and very supportive; we are close in real-life age and share a lot of interests. We shall see where it goes.


Yesterday I was sailing on the clouds, and today, not so much. This too shall pass.

I am a patriot.

I am a patriot. I love my country.
I love all the homeless who wander the streets often at no fault of their own.
I love all the poor folks who work several jobs just to make sure their kids are fed.
I love all the unemployed, who saw their jobs exported overseas.
I love each and every little person that makes this country what it is.

I especially love those who decided for myriad reasons to sign the dotted line and wear a uniform for 4, 6, 8, 10, 20 or more years. Peacetime and wartime. Each of us believed we were doing something good, not for ourselves, but for our country.

Most of us were paid just barely enough to survive on till we gained some rank - and even then, we weren't paid what we were worth.

I especially love those who ended up disabled, whether that be from an IED, getting shot down in a helicopter or plane, or just because they were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

I didn't ask to have my illness triggered by the massive amounts of chlordane the USAF soaked the military housing grounds with - but at least they were willing to say "yeah it was our fault" and give me something.

Now I hear that they are looking to cut retirements and disability as a way to "streamline" the military budget.

Talk about an utter slap in the face, you slimy mofos on capital hill. There are still men and women fighting your wars who were promised they would be looked after when they came home, and now you're giving them all a big FUCK YOU.

It isn't their fault they lost their legs, or a part of their brains, or simply suffer from PTSD every time they hear a bang from a firework. Those people went to bat for you, for your blood and money, for your wars.

They DESERVE to be looked after, every bit as the rest of us.

I may be a patriot but I do NOT love our governing bodies, who think they can sit in their lovely plush leather office chairs and run a line through funding that means feast or famine for the rest of us.

Shame on you!

The Pentagon's Third Rail