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Who Died and Made You King of the Universe?

I'm not sure if anyone finds it very newsworthy, but Pluto has just become the "former" ninth planet of our solar system.

I've always liked astronomy. I had a thing for planets as a preteen, and most kids do at some point. My youngest son's room is decorated with a space theme, some of the items culled from my oldest son's former decor. My father and brother are die-hard Star Trek fans. I fell in love with Ed Harris when I first saw "the Right Stuff." He's cute and an ASTRONAUT TOO? What is there NOT to love?

Anyway, most kids are drawn to Saturn, for its rings...or Uranus, for its humorous possibilities ("Why is the Starship Enterprise like toilet paper? Because it's always circling around Uranus looking for Klingons")...or Jupiter for its big red eye. I on the other hand chose Pluto as my favorite planet. I loved dogs as a kid, and Mickey's dog Pluto was of course the ideal pet. Floppy hound dog, good nature, big bump on top of head... I couldn't help associate the adorable cartoon dog Pluto with the planet Pluto. The fact that it was the farthest out there and didn't orbit in a traditional circle had an almost human attraction for me - have I not always been the farthest out there, circling in my own peculiar orbit? That it was the smallest planet held an appeal to me too. I've always loved things wee in nature. Mercury too hot, Mars too overplayed, Earth too familiar, Venus too boring, Neptune - isn't that some cranky guy from the Little Mermaid?...Pluto was a natural as my planet of choice.

Now "they" have decided that Pluto can no longer be a planet. They've kicked the little underdog right out of the clique. I was shocked! I don't pretend to follow modern astronomy. I love looking at the constellations on clear nights, staying up for meteor showers, and knowing that our little planet is circling with all our brothers and sisters right around our communal sun, every day, every year, and all is well in...well...the universe. I don't know much more than that if it's not broadcast in the news - which this little tidbit about Pluto happened to be.

I started thinking to myself. Now, who on Earth could "they" be..."those" so powerful that "they" could decide to kick out a planet that has been with us for centuries? Did God Himself come down two days ago and deliver the message? I decided to do a bit o' googling today. Here is what I discovered.

Pluto's planet status has been "hotly" debated for decades. Apparently the tension over the subject grew to unbearable proportions. (Who knew?) This quote is taken from the New York Times:

"Two years ago, the International Astronomical Union appointed a working group of astronomers to come up with a definition that would resolve this tension. The group, led by Iwan Williams of Queen Mary University in London, deadlocked. This year a new group with broader roots, led by Owen Gingerich of Harvard, took up the problem.

According to the new rules a planet meet three criteria: it must orbit the Sun, it must be big enough for gravity to squash it into a round ball, and it must have cleared other things out of the way in its orbital neighborhood. The latter measure knocks out Pluto and Xena, which orbit among the icy wrecks of the Kuiper Belt, and Ceres, which is in the asteroid belt."

Okay, that made me feel a little better. Some random telescope enthusiast didn't just ring up the news stations and declare that Pluto wasn't after all a planet. And better - the decision wasn't arbitrarily made by the President because he could push around such a tiny planet so far away from him. There is an official International Astronomical Union, with appointed leaders, made up of members from around the globe. Out of respect or science or possibly fear of world uprising, poor li'l Pluto wasn't abolished completely, but simply demoted to "dwarf planet," along with two other little ones previously ignored in bed-in-a-bag sets and school space dioramas.

I guess I'll just have to trust their judgment. After all, I routinely get my Dippers confused and can't really tell Aries from Aquarius (don't tell my kids). I have no real formal education on the subject save an astronomy class I signed up for and then dropped when I realized math was involved (what the flim-flam?).

So I can rest easy, and not worry too much about my son's Planet Map being a bit off kilter. I can Sharpie over little Pluto, or Sharpie in the new guys. Pluto's decal will remain on the wall. Pluto's 3-dimensional ball will remain on the mobile (taking him off would cause it to tilt). Pluto will continue to hunt Chipmunks with Mickey. Pluto will actually gain a little power in the process, forcing taxpayers everywhere to pay for new school textbooks...

Hey...do you think the IAU is in cahoots with the Teacher's Union?

Posted by Bullyland at 01:49 PM | Comments (0)

Snakes on a Plane!

Just kidding. I was too lazy to think of a title for this entry so I went with one that obviously works!

A week that began with my big DOH! moment of slipping and breaking my toe and my dog being caught red-handed in attempted murder against a squirrel, has evolved into a pretty good weekend. The sun has been shining and good things are on the horizon.

I'm excited to announce that my beautiful friend, 'Pril, has announced her engagement. I approve! (Like it matters, har har). I'm so happy for her and this guy is perfect (too bad for the rest of the male population). I've never known her to be more serene, happy, and in love. Yay, 'Pril!! Unfortunately for us this may mean her move away from New England but as long as she's happy, so am I.

I'm happy to announce that my beautiful friend, Sharon, received a very hard earned and awesome promotion! Not only that but she was selected to transfer to Australia for a year to 18 months to work for her company there. How exciting! I've heard the men there are to die for - blonde hair, green eyes, deep tans.... mmmm.... I hate that she'll be so far away but it's only temporary... right, Sharon? RIGHT, SHARON?

I'm also feeling a sense of homey comfort in anticipation of my beautiful friend, Tina, cooking for me tomorrow night at her oh-so-cozy chalet. Her S.O. Tim has constructed a tiny cottage for her behind the house which I can't wait to see and she's promised a small bonfire and as much chilled white wine as we can handle without becoming stupid. Aaaahh....relaxing in a homebuilt cottage, a cozy fire to warm our toes, good food and wine and conversation... I can't wait.

I'm excited because my beautiful sister and my two nieces are coming up to visit this weekend as well. I haven't seen them in over a year! This will give me good opportunity to "work on" getting her to move up here. Wish me luck. I'm hoping we can have a regular family reunion this weekend with her, my neices, my brother and sister-in-law, my three nephews, mom and dad and hopefully both my boys. Fire up the grill!

My flea population has dwindled considerably. There are zero fleas in the downstairs area, none in my son's bedroom and they are almost eliminated in the rest of the upstairs - one more flea bomb should do it totally. I can't tell you what a sigh of relief I will breathe when I can walk across my upstairs flokati rug without a tiny flea jumping on my ankle.*

I am looking forward to spending the day tomorrow finishing the deep clean of my house and puttering around in my garden - something I haven't had nearly enough time for. My son is with his father this weekend and the weather forecast is nearly perfect - scattered t-storms aside.

Beautiful weather, beautiful friends, beautiful family and blessedly flea-free dwelling.

It's a wonderful life.

*To paraphrase Samuel L. Jackson: "I have had it with these motherfucking fleas on this motherfucking carpet!"

Posted by Bullyland at 03:31 PM | Comments (1)

On an Island in the Sun (We'll Never Feel Bad Anymore)

Holy downers, Robin, bring me my Batmeds! I realize my posts have been pretty negative lately. I apologize and warn that they will probably get only worse, as the weeks progress. I spent part of this weekend helping my mom & dad move furniture around in preparation for a hospital bed. Talk is of hospice and arrangements and friends and family visiting. I heard the Whites' "Keep On The Sunny Side" playing on an XM station and I wanted to throw the radio out the window. But if my brother can still make jokes and laugh, then the least I can do is try to follow his example.

In an attempt to keep my mind from completely imploding I have stepped up the internet search for items to keep my warms fuzzied and my mind occupied. To make up for my bummer posts of late I share with you with oodles of cuteness. Enjoy.

Here is a treat (pics and quotes) from my favorite source of Vitamin D, Cuteoverload.com. Cuteoverload won a webby this year and it ain’t because Meg Frost isn’t a genius. God bless you Meg, many rays of sunshine have been reserved for your precious head:

Dog: snooorff
Baby: [looks up at insane parent]

Dog: [Thinking] Feels cushiony!
Baby: "Malllgh!"

Dog: [slurp!]
Baby: Well, I uh... sure. OK. sure.

Dog: [awkward hug while making large snorting sounds]
Baby: "Holy MUFFLEPUFF!"

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Do dogs dream? I must warn you though, before clicking on this link, you may never recover after viewing this pweshus pup.

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This classic Weezer song never fails to bring up my mood. Somebody had the brilliant idea to combine it with dozens of cute animal pics for the ultimate gooey result (click on lyrics).

Island in the Sun (c weezer)
hip hip
hip hip

When you’re on a holiday
You can’t find the words to say
All the things that come to you
And I wanna feel it too

On an island in the sun
We’ll be playing and having fun
And it makes me feel so fine
I can’t control my brain

hip hip
hip hip

When you’re on a golden sea
You don’t need no memory
Just a place to call your own
As we drift into the zone

On an island in the sun
We’ll be playing and having fun
And it makes me feel so fine
I can’t control my brain

We’ll run away together
We’ll spend some time together
We’ll never feel bad anymore

hip hip
hip hip
hip hip

On an island in the sun
We’ll be playing and having fun
And it makes me feel so fine
I can’t control my brain

We’ll run away together
We’ll spend some time forever
We’ll never feel bad any more

Heh heh

We’ll never feel bad anymore
(hip hip)
(hip hip)
No no
(hip hip)
(hip hip)
We’ll never feel bad anymore
No no

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This one is simply "OMG." Again, BEWARE. Your cuteness sensor will very likely overheat and need replacing. Three things to note here – kitty’s vocal warnings and tail flicks betraying her cool demeanor; mom eventually coming around to show the pups just how to do it, and the kitty’s owner finally stepping in and rescuing her. Again, OMG.

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Bored? Sad? This site will make you forget it all with hours of kitten clickage at your fingertips.

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Nothing really cute about this, in fact it’s Non Gradus Anus Rodentum!, but you can use the site to impress your friends with your scholarly knowledge of Latin sayings.

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Who knew these backyard bird-feeder thieves were so talented? And I always considered them rats with cute tails.

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If only everything was always fuzzy dreams and smushy-faced kitten love.

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And now I must sign off. All this cute huntery has whet my appetite.

Posted by Bullyland at 01:42 PM | Comments (3)

Isn't It Ironic? (Don't You Think)

I drive the same roads nearly every day. I see the same landscapes, the same buildings, everything pretty much looks like it did 10 years ago – at least the buildings are still there, though others may have popped up somewhere along the line.

All through my transient childhood I longed for a home town, where all the buildings looked the same and memories were made and cemented in the ground, for me to be able to return to again and again.

Now I do have a home town, or home base anyway, being many little neighboring towns joined in my life by a string of domiciles, jobs, family and friends. I can revisit the places again and again where one or another memory was made. The irony is that the one thing I longed for as a child, I got as an adult, and I totally fucked it up.

So many things about my past are unsavory. So many memories lie purposely buried as if under a big tarp, like hills of garbage at a dump. If I could decimate them like one can burn refuse down to unrecognizable ashes, I would.

I’ve made a total mess of the first half of my life. I spent over a decade as an adult with people I can not and do not want to ever see again, doing things with these people I never want to think about. It’s as though a big chunk - nearly one third - of my life is blacked out, like a racy letter you’d receive in prison.

Most of my life is full of mistakes. Mistakes I made as a child, mistakes I made as a young teen, as a young adult… of course I’m still making mistakes, but nothing so shameful that I’ll need to shield my memory from it. The mistakes I made as a child and teenager are much easier to forgive and forget. Of course youth is always easy to blame, and when there’s something to blame, it’s not so hard to let it go. Then there’s the fact that I will never see these places where I made those mistakes again. They are scattered literally across the globe. I will never again be forced to walk the sidewalks in towns where I committed childish and adolescent crimes of selfishness, lust, treachery, ignorance, etc.

But in this little string of towns I call home now, it is a different matter altogether. Not only have I been an adult since I landed in Portsmouth in 1987, I also must see these buildings every day. I walk the sidewalks. I drive the roads. They all contain ghosts of my past that I can’t take back I also can’t escape from. And so I just push it down.

I drive by the same buildings, homes, roads and I try to see only buildings, homes, and roads. I try to forget that any particular road is one that leads to a town which contains a building that housed a person who had a role in my corrupt past. I can almost laugh at the extravagant amount of territory I spoiled with my past antics, but the smile dies before it fully forms on my lips.

Occasionally, something – looking a little longer at a building than normal, seeing a name in print or hearing it out loud – will open my mind against its will to reveal a scene from the past that plunges me into an emotional fugue. It may knock me off kilter for weeks at a time with sadness, regret, guilt or shame. It may be something less offensive, a small sin committed in mischief that I could actually smile about. It may be a memory that is benign, fond even. That is, if only these memories weren’t associated with someone or some place that holds keys to other, darker, rooms of my soul.

I know the past holds me back. Ignoring it takes so much mental energy that I don’t have much more mental stamina to do much else. I want to form intimate relationships. I want to put my heart on my sleeve once in awhile. I want to strike out from my job that up until this year has been fairly rewarding – but now is absolutely stifling. I want to take risks and allow myself to seek personal fulfillment that holds some real weight. I feel unable to do any of these things.

I'm terribly uncomfortable when I try and face the wasted years I accumulated and so I don’t. I have a sneaking suspicion that if I faced my past head on - no denial, no omissions - and was able to let it go, I might be able to solve a lot of the “issues” that are holding me back. It is scary, though, and distasteful, to admit to myself these memories even happened and so I avoid them altogether.

Will I ever forgive myself my past? Will I ever feel like I am truly free? Will I ever be healed enough to really move on – to do with the rest of my time on Earth something important, brave, and fulfilling? Or will I always be restricted from love, retiring in old age from a job that never challenged me, and living out the rest of my years in complacency, alone? Will I die knowing that even after I escaped certain doom from a life that was killing me, I never made the rest of it count?

I mean, I appreciate irony, but this is kind of ridiculous.

Just Buildingsc '06

I drive these same roads every day
And memories could haunt me but they tend to stay
In the background and all I see are the fronts
Of the buildings that mean nothing at all

So many places with so many ghosts
Road stops and houses that hold a host
Of memories that could haunt me but tend to stay
In the buildings that mean nothing at all

I’ve passed the point of no return
When pieces of life could still be learned
There is nothing that I haven’t done or said
In the buildings that mean nothing at all

What a mess I made of my years,
Life and love and waste of tears
An innocence completely gone
In stories that I don’t linger on
And I believe in higher powers
But if I count up all the hours
And I sat judging my own crimes
I’d know forgiveness won’t be mine

What lies ahead one never knows
In my case it has all been sold
For the cost of my past and maybe my soul
A future with no surprises
A future with no reprises

Shoeboxes hold photos turned the other way
In the room where I hide my past away
Unwanted reminders of a time when I lived
In the buildings that mean nothing at all

Posted by Bullyland at 06:20 PM | Comments (2)

Forcing Myself to Look

I've been locked out of my blog for a few days, and I had an entry all typed up and ready to post - which I will soon. I normally type my entries and do a cursory edit before posting right away. This time, I've had a few days to re-read it, and although I'll still post it, I can't help but notice now how self-absorbed and whiney it sounds. It's all about me.... me.... me...

Which normally is just par for the course here in Bullyland, right? Snort. I admittedly have a hard time seeing beyond my own four or five square feet of personal space a lot of the time. I've come to believe there's a reason that I do this. It's because to do otherwise would be to acknowledge just how useless I really am in other affairs.

I've been watching a lot of world and national news programming lately, which I normally loathe since I believe most of it is biased and nearly all of it depressing. With all the hostility going on in Lebanon, and of course the continued saga in Iraq, I've been overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness. There's REALLY nothing I can do. I can write about the evils of war and fighting. I can talk about it. I can voice my opinion. Otherwise my hands are tied. I am bound by a need to protect my own child by continuing to go to work every day in order to provide physical and emotional security to him. I can't adopt ten thousand orphans. I can't march up to Pennsylvania Avenue and force the powers that (unfortunately) be to end our occupation in Iraq. Nothing I can do or say will cause world leaders to really see the pictures right in front of their eyes. Terrified children are being carried away from their dismembered households by strangers in the night. Unconscious civilians are lying on stretchers with pieces of their bodies blown away (perhaps the parents of these children?). Smoke billows up from devastated cities, dogs lie dead in the streets, buildings are abandoned, food and clean water are nowhere to be had.

All I can do is either look or not. In some sort of desperate attempt to shake myself out of a state of complacency, I've been forcing myself to look. One film clip of a particularly beautiful child being whisked away by paramedics continues to haunt me. All around her, a building (her home I assumed) lay in rubble and sirens blared. Several adults were being carried away on stretchers. One adult, presumably her mother, tried to sit up from the stretcher, wailed, threw her arms out trying to reach the child but they both were taken in opposite directions. The look on the child's face was absolute terror. I started thinking. Can you just imagine? Can you just imagine being her mother and not knowing at that moment what would become of you or her? Not knowing if you'd ever see her again? Not be able to be there for her when she's so frightened and confused?

We are such spoiled Americans. We had one moment of fear in the entire recent history of our country, one isolated moment of fear on September 11th, 2001 when all of us could imagine the threat of death and despair. Think about how relatively quickly that fear dissipated. It was only a matter of months, really, before we were on the offensive and feeling invincible once again (and it would have not even taken that long had the administration of this country not deliberately fanned the flames of fear).

I know thousands of men and women in this country live with the fear that their family members could die while stationed in Iraq. Most of them do return to us, and their families can start breathing easily again. Some do not, and that is a tragedy. However, I think I can say that as a country, we do not feel the threat upon us here in America. There are not buildings toppled and bombs dropped from the air in different parts of our country on a daily basis. We do not feel threatened as a rule by any of the evils we see every day on television. We watch from the comforts of our living rooms and feel sad, feel helpless, feel angry...but not threatened.

Just imagine if you were born into living with those threats every day of your life... that it was ingrained into your way of life... that imminent destruction was only just around the corner at any time. You try and live your life in peace day in and day out; you go to work, you make dinner, you hold your kids and read them stories... but in the back of your mind you know that a bomb could drop only feet away and end it all in seconds.

I wonder what would change if our leaders could really live like that for one year. Just one year of fearing their loved ones being snatched away by stretchers and strangers and feeling the fire of fear and uncertainty in their bellies that these civilians in other, less fortunate countries must feel every day of their lives. Would they continue to believe our occupation in Iraq is a humanitarian effort? Would they realize that in the eyes of innocent civilians that they are "protecting" and "liberating," they are no different than the middle-Eastern leaders that they vilify?

My guess is, probably not. One would have to live one's entire life under that kind of threat in order to really comprehend the despair, and we fat American civilians and politicians simply have not and will never live our lives under metaphorical or literal clouds of napalm.

I will never know what happened to that child or her mother after seeing them on television. I can only pray for them that they will.

Go ahead. Force yourself to look.

*these images were gathered from Google image searches and www.thewe.cc

Posted by Bullyland at 11:25 AM | Comments (4)