Oh, I can see the forest in spite of the tree. Metaphor time! Get ready to wax philosophical.

I had an English teacher in high school who tried to shy her students away from using cliches in our writing because she personally hated them. She thought they were, in themselves, cliche. While I looked up to this woman a great deal, I have always thought that if you have the urge to write, WRITE! Don't allow any deterrents be they spelling or grammar concerns, or even the pet peeves of someone whose opinion mattered to you at some point in your life.

So, as usual with my writing lately, inspiration struck this morning right when I woke up - not in the middle of the night this time at least. I've had one of my best friends on the brain for the last two days because, as a gal who has always written from her heart, she had been making some statements recently online that just downright ground my gears. This virtual world allows us to have some very strangely altered relationships. I got a little pushy with her, but in our entire history together we have always been able to respectfully disagree - as we do now. That is all fine and well, but one thing she said got me started down a particular train of thought. This whole "can't see the forest in spite of the trees" business you're waiting for me to finally getting around to talking about. Those of you nut jobs crazy enough to regularly follow this blog. She didn't actually use the forest/tree phrase, but our exchange brought the old adage into my mind.

I've wondered about how that concept works and have come up with a theory for myself. What I'm talking about specifically is how people view the world, which from this point on is going to be loosely referred to as a great big forest. What we are seeing when we look up are representations. Each tree represents a person, a pet, a material possession, an event and so on. I have my own forest that is not merely a single tree and the same is true of everyone else. My body and soul are even comprised of separate trees; neither of which are in wonderful shape. My own great forest overshadows but does not block my view of the world's vast forests. It does, however, alter my perception of them.

I've said many times that I am no activist, though I do write the occasional letter to any powers that be I feel need to hear my voice when there is an err I cannot overlook. Farmington's mayor got an earful from me last week, in fact. But that's another story for another day. I don't concern myself much with the majority of the sea of arbores. It's not, as the cliche says, because of the singular tree or even my own little forest of trees in front of my face blocking my vision of the rest. It is because some of my trees are on fire, or are wilting with age or some type of deprivation, or have broken limbs. When I do take those moments to gaze upon and sometimes study those backwoods, jungles and thickets around the world...I see that mine are not the only trees in pain or danger. Sometimes I only find open glades where someone has nothing in life to keep them waking up in the morning. Even looking still further I will come across skeletal landscapes where people have once had everything and lost it all in one or a series of cataclysmic events - perhaps devised by themselves in some cases whether intentional or not. For instance, a person with a fatal drug addiction.

Here's the kicker though. While for one person, their view of a particular tree may be gaunt, to another, that same tree may be lush and full and its fruit within reach (we're not all pine trees either, by the way). We are each multifaceted that way and in our perceptions of each other.

I brought up my lack of activism above for this reason. For me personally, it would be far less responsible for me to take any time at all away from the dangers that portions of my own forest face to go chasing down some giant oak bursting into flames ten thousand miles away with a tiny little bucket of water. I'm not saying that one person can't make a difference by saying that so please, don't allow that to lead you in that direction. I can see the representation of that oak clearly through my television, radio and newspaper. What I can never see clearly, however, is who or what started the fire in the first place or why; or how that one guy who showed up was able to get his hands on such a big hose. Try to keep your minds out of the gutter with that one. It's difficult, I know. At any rate, I can only see what scant portion of the story has been chosen to be told by, once again, the powers that be. Ah, the media. Notice I made a point not to say "liberal media"? EVERYONE's guilty on both the delivery and receipt sides. Viewers, listeners, readers are all just as much to blame for swallowing what we are fed without question. It only encourages the hands that feed us to eventually start throwing banana peels in there. What? You mean they really ate that? Well heck, I've got some old coffee grounds and egg shells I've been meaning to get rid of so let's toss those in there next week and see who bites then we'll simply call them our "target audience". While all of that actually is good for compost, which is good for trees I'm still going along with the metaphor here so please keep playing along. Humor me. Before long anyway, the temptation would become too great and they'd just start tossing in items that are bad for the compost like chicken bones and cheese. Just look at the Britney Spears fiasco in recent years where all that everyone wanted was for the paps and the media to leave her alone and yet there the world was gorging on every gruesome moment of it, buying up the magazines and gluing their eyes to the train wreck. As a trained photographer I know exactly how to make you believe what I want you to believe through my imagery. So, just how far am I comfortable ethically going with that power? Far less than some. Somehow, I don't think photo-shopping a clear complexion for myself is going to wind me up in purgatory. Many others have far more to answer for.

My point? My little theory about this forest thing has two clear options though I'll concede that there may be any number of alternate possibilities. First, those who do run off with their buckets and hoses have safe and happy groves waiting around for them when they get back home. These individuals, I must note, may or may not be responsible for the flourishing state of their forest. While rare and improbable, it's a possible scenario. Second, these crusaders have altered their perceptions to the point that they do not place themselves in the position of caretaker or even just an overseer of their forest whether it be in ship shape or crumbling away. This second option could also have any number of variations to it, but I think I'm making at least a little bit of sense with that general statement. I hope. I could get into some very specific theories regarding peoples' motivations for doing the things they do, but I'm no psychologist and they'd all be hypothetical gibberish anyway. I'd rather not bore myself (or you) with that either.

My dashes of cynicism (with media in particular) only exacerbate my reluctance to join up with any cause I am not the founder of. Believe me, I do know how that sounds. I'm comfortable with that though at this stage in my life where my little forest is in such chaos. Even if it was one of the flourishing landscapes that sometimes feels like such a rarity, I would likely feel and act the same way. Do I fully understand that there are starving children, murderers, pollutants and so on in my own backyard and beyond? Of course I do. I cannot force myself to care too much about any of that though outside of my little bubble of space. Again, yes, I know how that may be perceived. At the same time, I'm not too concerned with those perceptions either as I am very comfortable in my own skin, faults and all, and the decisions I make every day. I'm the one that has to live with myself, after all and my conscience is clear.

So, basically, what I'm saying about perception is that while I can see the forest in spite of the tree, so to speak, I will continue to direct my concerns where I feel in my heart deserve or require the most attention from me as an individual. This is not a defense, mind you, I already have discussed here and elsewhere that I feel no need to defend myself for being me. It is merely a delving into something I've loosely thought about for several years and finally had enough of a spark of inspiration to dive into it at more length. Again, these damn politics being my inspiration for writing?!? That's crap!

I can't have a post without at least one picture so for the sake of keeping with tradition and also having a little bit of fun, this is how I see myself as a tree:

The weeping willow, very dramatic (in every sense of the word) and a little all over the place and very protectively covering that which really makes me tick.

But, once you're past all the exterior flash and protection, I'll show you another side that reveals far more about me. Don't go trying to get past that bark though if you know what's good for you. Even I don't like looking there. And no, that's not a nude joke. Just one last piece of the metaphor.

Bitty Babies Everywhere!

'Tis the season for many new babies to come into the world. My oldest brother's family just welcomed the beautiful Samantha Skye Schott on the 9th of this month:



Then, the next brother down the line is expecting another boy the day after my birthday this May. And then even the NEXT brother down the line will bring another little girl into the family in just a few more weeks. Oh, it doesn't end there! One of my dearest, and newest friends (Hi, Meg!) only has about six weeks left before boy number 4 comes along! Finally, I just learned this morning that another absolutely dear friend of mine growing up (Hi, Liz!) is expecting another little one this August. Now, this note goes directly out to Heidi (Kait too, for that matter) whenever she makes it over to my blog again: If you get pregnant before me, given, I'll squeal with delight, but I also might pitch a fit. Oh no, not a fit?! Oh yes, a fit.

Don't get me wrong, anyone, I'm not at all baby crazy and we are not planning anything just yet or ever (don't take me too seriously on that second part). These things just always seem to come in waves and when I started doing a head count I got a tad dizzy. Of course, it may just be that I'm finally "that age". You know, the age where everyone you know has or is starting to have kids so it's inevitable that there's going to be crossover. It has just been crazy to have THREE of my sisters-in-law pregnant at the same time!

I'm pretty sure that our kids are hanging around in pre-existence, if you believe in such things, which I do...anyway, they're hanging around rolling their eyes at me and Dave just waiting for us to get our shit together. Yes, eliminating indiscriminate cursing will probably be that last thing to go. That really is the least of my concerns involved with bringing a new person into this earthly life. I won't go into my hesitations, but they are many. So, I want to send a collective congratulations out to those I've mentioned and all other expectant families out there in the world. You are more courageous than I.

WARNING: Graphic content follows

So, one of the many interesting nuances of living in an area that can still be considered semi-rural is that we receive occasional visits by roaming wildlife. Most of these visits are relatively friendly, but some are rather invasive and violent. Yes, yes, I know that my home sits on land that was once a mere foothill where deer and vermin and predators and so on could roam free. But this land was cultivated and altered by man many years before I ever got here and certainly several generations prior to any wildlife that currently strolls around down here.

That being said, I generally welcome most of these visits. I put out feed for the wide variety of local birds and find their antics amusing. We even encountered a deer once that had come over the embankment at the back of our property to get a drink in our pond. I've run a snake or two off the property as well for Dave's sake - he gets the spiders, I get the snakes. We have a completely symbiont life system taking place on our small little patch of earth that even includes us.

You see, we have also brought our own animals to live on and share this land. This has an affect on the wildlife as well. We feed the wild birds, but we also have ducks that require a similar grain-based feed. Mice and rats have a hard time reaching the bird feeders and the scraps that fall don't seem to be much of a lure when there is an ample and easily accessed supply in the duck pen. Snakes are then attracted to our property for the relatively easy access to our resident rodents. We are not in the least bit adverse to poisoning or even shooting any of these pests and do so when necessary. Though, to be fair, the only dead snake we have ever recovered from our property was not poisoned but run over in the driveway. Think what you will of all that, but these are both dangerous and possibly diseased animals that I do not want living in that close of proximity to my family if I have any means to do something about it. So, we occasionally utilize our means.

Our beastly dog, Ebony, generally deters most larger wildlife by her presence alone. Her scent is all over the yard and she adds to it everyday. But sometimes the lure to our wild yard is just too strong. There are regularly hawks and small eagles circling our neighborhood, but I've only once ever seen one actually in our yard and it didn't appear to be hunting. We have seen several raccoons, or possibly the same one several times hanging about our garbage can at night. Among all of these, the only critters that ever really bother me are the raccoons and rodents. Even these, however, are rarely ever actually seen - mostly just the evidence of their presence. In the winter, for instance, we will see rat trails in the snow going from hole to hole leading up to their food supply in the duck pen. Aside from disease, have you priced chicken scratch lately? Corn prices have shot it through the roof and I simply can't tolerate (or afford) sustaining a bunch of rat babies.

I have always worried about having the ducks out in the yard because of all of the wildlife activity, but in nearly five years of keeping ducks we've not once had a predator attack. Until two nights ago. They have a sturdy coop and are fenced in behind a 4' fence on one side and even higher on all other sides. There is a hill, however, that comes up to level with the top of a small part of the 4' fence and that was the point of entry and exit for our vicious visitor. Like the others, it left evidence. More than just the wreckage it also left distinctive tracks that I have deduced down to most likely coyote, or possibly a large fox.

I was in a rush to leave that morning because in my arduous job searching lately, I've been going through the multi-step insanity that is the Postal employment hiring process and had to make it out to a medical assessment within the hour. As I always do, I took a quick peek into the pen as I drove past it after rounding the corner and saw a crumpled looking white pile and I knew something had happened. My first thoughts were directed to the rat poison I had just put out the day before. I had jammed some way up under the coop where a rat hole had been dug and worried that one of them had managed to get their head down the hole and eaten some. What I found was decidedly worse in some ways. Only made slightly better by the fact that I wasn't directly responsible for killing my own pet, I found that two of my three ducks had been brutally massacred sometime in the night. As my pets, however, I also have a responsibility to protect them. Sometimes there's only so much you can do, but I am finding now that there is far more that I can certainly do to keep my remaining girl safe from harm.

*Graphic Warning*

I couldn't say if this creature built up in ferocity as it went or if it started strong and ended lamely. I tend to believe the former because of what I found. When I spun my car around and rushed down the yard to assess the situation I was greeted by a gruesome and infuriating scene. The back of my drake's neck was completely missing and his upper back had been rather brutally gouged into as well. The rest of him remained virtually unscathed aside from a few minor punctures. The female that was killed had also been attacked from behind but only insomuch as to end her life. I found the remaining female that had survived cowered in a corner next to the lifeless and mutilated bodies of her companions. Upon initial inspection she appeared to be okay aside from being terribly frightened. I was in such a hurry that all I knew I needed to do at the moment was to move the bodies. With Christmas having just passed I happened to have a few boxes that worked. These were no small birds mind you, weighing in at about 10-12 lbs. each and being roughly twice the overall size of the average house cat.

I called Dave once I hit the freeway to let him know the contents of the two boxes so as to keep the dog away from them and for him to dispose of them while I was away because I simply couldn't do it. I replayed the visions of the wounds over and over again in my head on the way to my appointment becoming more and more upset. I tried to push my thoughts elsewhere, but could not succeed. I am not the person who feels bad for the gazelle when the leopard finally makes that swipe that takes it down. I have compassion for the fact that the predator/prey relationship involves pain and suffering. This was not a predator seeking a meal. It was a slaughter. As awful as the scene was and this may sound, I would have felt much better to have cleaned up my good friends if they had even been partially devoured. It just feels like senseless destruction, almost malicious.

At any rate, Dave and I built a door for the coop to lock my lonesome gal up at night for the immediate future and managed to find a chain link dog run for sale on craigslist that has a roof structure and 6' walls. Who says functionality can't be cute?

Much as I would like vengeance on the sneaky bastard, I will instead seek my peace of mind by doing everything I can to outsmart the instincts of such critters. The Perkins residence will soon be home to a venerable duck Fort Knox.

In memory of Dr. Drake Remore and his Little Nurse (lighter). Big Nurse (darker) already misses them both.

So, maybe I'll be a writer when I gets all growed up.

I've been writing away quite a bit lately, which has been making my 100+wpm little fingers very happy. All this writing is also starting to give those fingers a good reason to begin drawing again, which also makes them very happy.

Here's the skinny: I woke up around 2 in the morning two nights ago with the hamster wheel spinning away in my brain. I woke up thinking about all of the rambling writing I've been doing as of late and how I should direct my focus into a new project. But where to dip my cup into the pools of inspiration? Well, I used to draw nearly every day. Whether for school or simply because I felt like it, I've built up quite an extensive portfolio over the years. While lying in bed trying to figure out why I had woken so abruptly in the first place and then working to reconcile the flashes of streaming thought, an image entered my mind. A drawing I had done about ten years ago after seeing the movie, "The Fifth Element". The opera diva led me to create a series of drawings:






But one drawing is missing. THE drawing. My organizational skills, while seemingly quite obsessive are actually borderline chaotic. I tend to keep things in piles in various locations around the house. My parents observed this of me and my bedroom while growing up, particularly in my teenage years. It's a habit I still have. Whenever I don't have the time or the will to really organize something, be it the laundry, the mail, shoes, anything, I will make piles to revisit at a later time. Organized chaos. So, the same is true of my personal effects. I have drawings on printer paper, lined school paper, graph paper, napkins, post-it notes, whatever was available when an image simply had to escape my mind and become part of the world. There are about four or five places that these have ended up being tucked away in various corners of the house. Not one of those places I scoured turned up the drawing. All of the others I drew within that approximate time frame were found. 

The significance of this drawing is that it sparked a train of thought that began to develop into something exciting. Something that kept building and building up strength and energy just like a locomotive. By 2:30 I couldn't stand it anymore and accepted the truth that if I didn't record any of this right NOW that I would certainly lose nearly all of it by sunrise. I slid out of bed as quietly as I could because both Dave and I were already sleeping restlessly because he had final exams the following day. I turned on the computer and began to write a short story about the man in my drawing. About three or four lines into it, it began to rhyme. Two hours later, "Crimson the Collector" had a life and a voice of his own.

I am now feverishly trying to recreate my vision of the missing Crimson. I know what he looks like and now I'm trying to convince my fingers that they still know what they're doing after a long hiatus from daily drawing. Stay tuned for more on bringing Crimson the Collector to life.

And now for something completely different

I call this piece: Infanity

I really was starting to get better; recovering from my temporary and involuntary obsession. Over the last two and a half months since I discovered the Twilight universe I read all four books four times. I did slide two other completely NON-fiction books in there during that time too, so don't get too worried about my mental well-being. I'll check off my fifth reading of Twilight later today as I wait in line for the movie.

I came incredibly close to seeing a midnight showing last night in Syracuse, but since I already have my two tickets pictured above for tonight and tomorrow afternoon plus one more scheduled show on Saturday I figured that I could be patient for one more day.

I never do this...but what the heck, I have everything to lose.

Whether you ever wanted my opinions or not, you’re going to get a few very strong ones right now because for one reason or another you like and maybe even love me so you keep up on what I’m doing every now and again. How’s that for a run-on sentence? So, what am I up to right now? I am currently fighting the queasiness I have near-constantly had since this year’s election season began. If I didn’t know better, my stomach would still swear that I was standing in the doorway of a plane at 13,000 feet spoon-style tandem strapped to this stranger I am trusting as an expert. Will our chute open? Am I prepared enough to know what to do if it doesn’t? I’m much more inclined to be an optimist, but with this election I simply can’t shake the instinct that things are about to go horribly, horribly wrong. I am educated as to what our President elect has planned for this nation. Let me just say that for those for whom ignorance is bliss, I envy you at this moment.

A rather heated family feud ensued about two weeks before elections this year among my immediate and extended family. It all began after my ultra-conservative aunt sent the following email to the whole family:

Here is a creative approach to redistribution of wealth as offered in a local newspaper...

Today on my way to lunch I passed a homeless guy with a sign that read "Vote Obama, I need the money." I laughed.

Once in the restaurant my server had on a "Obama 08" tie, again I laughed as he had given away his political preference--just imagine the coincidence.

When the bill came I decided not to tip the server and explained to him that I was exploring the Obama redistribution of wealth concept. He stood there in disbelief while I told him that I was going to redistribute his tip to someone who I deemed more in need--the homeless guy outside. The server angrily stormed from my sight.

I went outside, gave the homeless guy $10 and told him to thank the server inside as I've decided he could use the money more. The homeless guy was grateful.

At the end of my rather unscientific redistribution experiment I realized the homeless guy was grateful for the money he did not earn, but the waiter was pretty angry that I gave away the money he did earn even though the actual recipient needed money more.

I guess redistribution of wealth is an easier thing to swallow in concept than in practical application.

Political satire as delivered through the medium of comic strips has long-been one of my favorite means of this type of expression. I found this one today, though it is not at all new, and think it fits the above story well.

At any rate, the email started a written war of epic proportions from all of the liberals in the family who felt that they had had enough. They were each abusive in their own way – more, I think, from previous and similar emails they had received from this particular aunt. They each also hid behind a façade of peace that was anything but peaceful. I’ve always held strong that just because you offer up a disclaimer of, “I don’t mean to offend” or even, “You know that I love you, but…” these statements don’t pave the way to unleash whatever horrible things you might have to say simply because you’re going to say them “nicely”. It reminded me of the absolute joke that is the positive discipline process. Here, please allow me to butter you up so that you’ll brown nicely when I throw you in the sweltering oven in just a moment.

I too, had had enough and made no pretense of any niceties in MY email. I know that there were some who responded in their own way by only contacting this aunt individually – as was both appropriate and respectful. I purposefully chose the platform of including the entire group in my own email so that we could all be assured to be embarrassed by this kind of behavior. I ran each one of them through my own little ringer – including the aunt. There were different reasons that I was upset with each and every one of them. I am no peacemaker, and this was not a group of people having a debate. It was textual mud-slinging with no intent past mere soap-box moments. Arguments for arguments sake.

This election season literally turned brother against brother in this country and it makes me sick. These states are not “United” as Barak would like us all to believe. He would like us to believe all of the things he says. He is a politician, after all. He is undoubtedly a man of hope, I won’t deny that. But he is no more so, however, than any other candidate we’ve ever seen in this nation’s history. He is just better with rhetoric and as such, was able to persuade the majority vote. I don’t begrudge him his victory, but I do look with mournful eyes at those loved ones of mine who helped enable this. That is part of the pain this brings me now; knowing that I have lost something very important to me in some people I have held respect and admiration for.

Worse yet, there is an air of humor and mockery coming from supporters of Obama’s policies and I don’t know whether I am more afraid that they don’t understand what they’re supporting or possibly worse, that they do understand and still support such potentially destructive ideas. Pathways to hell are frequently paved with good intentions. You might not guess it from what I have just said, but it is still true that I am every bit as much an idealist as I am a realist. Idealism, however, can be every bit as dangerous as a loaded gun being pointed in your direction. It can have the same ultimate effect. History is a wonderful teacher of what ideals like Obama's lead to.

We have all heard and seen the interview with “Joe, the Plumber”, but what I can’t understand is how anyone can really listen to this interview and not believe that they are supporting Socialism by supporting Obama. Marx, Stalin, Obama. Don’t even think for one moment that I’m kidding.

Joe: Your new tax plan is going to tax me more, isn’t it?

Barak: It’s not that I want to punish your success. I just want to make sure that everybody who is behind you, that they’ve got the chance at success too. I think that when you spread the wealth around, it’s good for everybody.

You either understand what this means, or you’re kidding yourself because you like the guy, but this is Socialism, pure and simple.

Read up, my friends and family, on what exactly has been voted for. Karl Marx once spoke regarding America where he said something along the lines of them not being able force Communism on us all at once, but if they started us down the path of Socialism that little by little we would succumb without even knowing what or how it had happened. Socialism is the bridge between Capitalism and Communism. Again, not kidding even a little bit.

Socalized medicine is no different. I hope you have enjoyed seeing whatever doctor you liked, pretty much whenever you liked. Get ready to pay the same as you are now, possibly more, and three hour lines to see a PA.

Churchill said it best, as usual, "Socialism is a philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance, and the gospel of envy, its inherent virtue is the equal sharing of misery." There's your equality. You can't simply "hand-out" better situations, people actually have to make some decisions in their lives. Well, actually, now they won't be required to. We have elected President Robin Hood to steal from all the evil rich people (didn't you know that having money makes you a bad person and an even worse person if you don't give it away?) and give to all of the good poor people of this country (conversely, didn't you know that being poor makes you a humble, decent, hard-working person?). Money reveals character and we've already seen exactly what handouts more often than not reveal: complete dependence and reliance upon that handout. I am a Christian and I will only teach a man to fish, not steal them from my neighbor because he got up off his ass and went out at 3 o'clock in the morning and what? how? he has the most fish? Well, that can't be fair that he has the most. I should go take some to give to my other neighbor who rolled out of bed hungry at the crack of noon. May I never be too grown-up for sarcasm.

I had no pony in this race, folks. Just because I am opposed to Obama does not mean that I was a McCain supporter. I don’t think we’ve had a Presidential race that wasn’t up to “the lesser of two evils”, so to speak, in a few decades. Yes, I was unquestioningly more supportive of John McCain, but there was a long string of mistakes and policies that made me disappointed that he was the Republican nominee.

So, why am I now choosing to bring all of this up? Because many of the people I have been closest to throughout my entire life I am learning are so fundamentally and philosophically divergent from America’s foundation that I am, as earlier stated, sick over it. I think a lot of these controversies come from what everyone eventually ultimately asks themselves, “What is this country all about?” I’ll make it as simple as I can and from my own experience: If you’re a Mormon and you want to know what is true of your church, read the Book of Mormon. If you’re an American and you want to know what is true of your country, read the Constitution. Neither was written with any “blinders” on and I cannot throw my support behind anyone who believes so or wants you to believe so. There are very few things that I am absolutely certain of in this life, but of this I am: God’s divine inspiration was behind both documents and God wears no blinders.

I will continue to live my life as I have always done and pray for personal peace for myself and others and as always, we'll see what happens. If you know me well at all, you know that I don’t write notes when I’m angry and frustrated, I write novels. And since this is my blog and I like to keep it a predominantly harmonious place, this is likely to be my only rant of this scale. Thanks to anyone who persevered through to the end (whether you agree with me or not).

And now, to suffer the malaise onset by the passing of another Halloween

It's that sad aftermath now where there is the longest amount of time before the next Halloween. Tim Burton, however, can always deliver the mood if you are hit with a spell of despair and longing for the morose.