Vince Higgins is not my real name. It's a pen name. As is the custom among Native Americans, I grew into that name. How it came to be is not important, only that it was an organic process. I mention this because I just acquired another; Bob Katz.
Been exploring some local back country, and find my self doing some armature forensic analysis of these critters habits, like preferring to mark their turf right in the middle of the trail. Seeing a lot of this lately. Had to look up what kind of critter was making it, and come to find this area is thick with the little buggers. Never actually see them, but getting an idea of how many there are. On this particular stretch there was a pile like this every fifty feet, right in the middle. Trying to figure out if it is one individual, or several. Guessing one, as the piles seem to be aged differently.
Been watching episodes of 'Long Lost Family' (UK, US and Australian versions of the programme) on Youtube. The stories behind the people searching for missing family members is heart breaking. I confess to having shed a tear or two.
They call it a family bond for a reason, because it is more like plywood than a board since layers are really bonded together by the family structure that is the glue. And so when that is ripped apart, it is just like plywood, where everything is shattered and splintered where the pieces cannot just be lined back up to make it go back together, like a broken board can be. There is a lot of emotional pain with the loss of even a single family. There is no wonder you have shed some tears....
I once received an employee performance evaluation that contained the word 'gunslinger'. [Confession 2 - I've never been prouder of myself.]
No, not religious. It's when women come together to meditate, mediate, share, empower, etc. There are men's circles, sure, and I did one at a hippy festival, but I can tell it's not the same. That was all about empowering masculinity to be emotional while sharing manly things with manly men. Men sometimes need the feminine insight on emotion, feelings and thoughts, and the best way to do this, in my personal opinion, is to share a space with women. But it's taboo because men and masculinity (and patriarchy) are often part of the reason they seek a women's only group. It doesn't make me feel discriminated against, because I understand. It makes me feel... sad. This is a pitch line from a group near me: When did you last feel fully seen, heard and appreciated? How often do you feel deeply listened to, with an open space to express yourself further if you wish? What may you discover about your deeper self, if you had that space? The Women's Circle is a healing and creative space where you are welcomed into deeper more conscious relationship with your inner Feminine Being.
My dearly departed father-in-law liked to joke with folks when they politely asked if he wanted tea or coffee. He would put on a smarmy smile and retort, "Both!" He always eventually relented and asked for a strong tea instead. One of the aunts one day decided she'd had enough — she brewed up a strong tea and added two heaped teaspoons of instant coffee. It took him by surprise and he sprayed a mouthful over the table, which seeped through the white tablecloth. After much under-the-breath grumbling as he toiled away at mopping up the mess, he conceded she'd successfully called his bluff. Thereafter, it was an enduring family joke and everyone asked him, "Would you like tea, coffee or cofftea?" He never opted for cofftea again.
When I was a child reading about how the Natives would call white settlers “pale faces”, I would imagine white people with literal pails on their heads. Like so:
You've confused "Pale-Face" with "Pailhead," an understandable mistake after taking a random elbow to the head in the mosh pit.
I eat chocolate pudding three times a week . . . and it feels a lot more often than that, so probably it is . . .
I mentioned somewhere that i'd upload a picture of this once I had a working phone but I own a Ouija table, had to get it custom painted due to their existence being peculiarly fleeting online. It has taken a battering over the last few years. I have never used it properly with a planchette or anything, although what it is used for is usually pretty demonic. The story behind its creation is not really fit for public discourse, but its origins were pretty funny in this strange life I live.
I know this is a rather late reply, but I recently have had a couple of procedures where they were concerned about me having a bad reaction to something they would be using, their answer was to give me Benadryl in IV form, that was really weird, it made me a bit out of touch with what I was trying to say. I think it also put me to sleep for the procedure, that or they gave me something to make me sleep. I would hate to get addicted to that stuff in that form, I hate needles.
Is that anything like me trying to tell the characters in TV shows about something they say that I see as stupid?
