It is, in fact, all about me.

Today I said goodbye to a friend and a neighbor. This woman has been kind and supportive and always THERE since I stepped foot off the airplane that bore me to this island. She is a quiet and mellow soul, sweet and quirky. We live very different lives, yet she has never been anything but a friend. I realized that in my self-absorbed furor of snarky antisocietism, I may have overlooked an opportunity to be a great friend to her. For that I am sorry, as she deserves loyal and constant friendship, which I fully intended but just never got around to. It was an oversight on my part.

I suppose I could claim a natural propensity toward self-obsession, as my horoscope says I am prideful and possess an enormous ego. (Both these things are true, I might add.) I hate to claim such weakness of spirit, though, that I fall victim to those things to which I am supposedly highly susceptible. It IS in my nature to refuse to get in line.

I sometimes wish I could be the thoughtful person who remembers her friends' birthdays and expresses concern when they are sick. I am not that person. The truth of the matter is that I am far more interested in myself than I am anyone else. I'd rather talk and think about ME. So should everyone else, in my view.

I'm only being honest.

Farewell, Chris.

Tangible vs. Intangible

I love the feel of natural objects...vertebrae from a turkey, a seed pod, sea glass, caribou antler, wool...and also the feel of artifacts from our recent industrial revolution, such as wrought iron and woven fabric. I guess I just like stuff.

I like the look of my house filled with the strange and the curious. Drawers to open in wooden cabinets, with skeleton keys, old postcards and photos, dusty books and marbles inside.

I love the delicious anticipation of mystery.

It has been said that I cannot pass a drawer, box, or cupboard without looking inside. I'm not deliberately nosey...but I love to imagine what could be in there...I love the drama of a discovery.

This is why books are so valuable to me. What better mystery than a story to which I do not know the ending?

Alone

There are things that I must do every day. I walk my dog in the morning with two neighbors and their dogs. I work a couple days a week. I teach one class per week. Not much, really.

Yet when I return from all of these places, I am so happy to be in my house and all alone (well, aside from the dog. He's special.) I don't play any music. I hate the sound of a television. I just like the quiet and the solitude. I barely speak out loud, other than to tell the dog how great he is. I. Like. Quiet.

The idea of hermit-hood is really appealing to me. Alone in my shack in the wilderness, no neighbors, nobody demanding anything of me. Just my dog and I, against the elements.

If you know me at all, you know I hate people. Not specific people (well, SOME specific people), but people in general. I hate crowds, I hate ignorance, I hate silliness, I hate stupidity. I want the whole world to shut the fuck up and leave me alone.

Sadly, there are times when I have to venture forth and walk amongst the Great Unwashed. Ugh. It makes me feel tired and old. Every year it gets worse. People get stupider and louder and my tolerance gets lower and my fuse gets shorter. I have never been accused of diplomacy anyway, but it seems that as I get older, I just don't have the patience for any bullshit.

Persons who love me in spite of my unpleasantness are hesitant to take me out and unleash me on the unsuspecting public, for fear that I will say a TRUTH. For them, this is embarrassing.

I figure life is far too short to waste being nice to someone who clearly is an idiot, and unworthy of my attentions.

Easter

Ironic that Easter, a celebration of a resurrection, is forever linked in my mind with the death of my father. He did not die near Easter, but the last service he presided over was the Easter service. Holy Week was a busy time in our house. His busiest work week, more so even than Christmas. Easter services are often sad ones, held in the dark and quiet of a pensive church, toward the end of a Lenten season of prayer and reflection. The congregation dresses in somber colors, and speak in hushed tones. Then Easter Sunday, all turn out shined and polished in brights and pastels, wearing shiny patent leather shoes. The light, the sun, life itself has been resurrected and all is shiny and new again. I do not go to church anymore, as I am not certain I believe in the God that is worshipped there any longer. If ever I did. Sometimes I wonder if I went to church more to worship my father than God. I will never get my own Easter Sunday. My father cannot come back. But I still worship him.

Honor?

Is there any honor left in this world? It used to be that people died for honor, women protected their honor, a man fought for someones honor, and people did things that were honorable. Now what? All for gain. If it doesn't get you money, fame or prestige, then forget it. People cheapen themselves and their character (if they have any) for a moment of something that is a thin and brittle impostor of Honor. It makes me sad.

Honor was a central virtue for the Greeks. Achilles speaks of the loss of honor as the source of his rage.

One gains honor with age, rank and distinction. It is closely associated with one's personal values. It appears that there is very little respect for age, rank or accomplishment now. Children don't even respect their own parents. And values seem to have disappeared with the growing use of daycare and television as babysitters.

There was a time when men in uniform were revered for their service, and their sacrifice, and their bravery. Now they are questioned and courtmartialed and spit upon by the same people they swore to give their lives to protect. In fact, it is their sacrifice that gave you the freedom to voice your disdain for them and their jobs.

Politicians are sleazy. Disgusting. Nobody seems to mind it in this country. Where is their honor?

And what of gang warfare and the machismo that leads to bar fights? Is that a true defense of honor, or a crude animal-like behavior disguised as a poor form of honor?

I don't know. However, I think that we could all benefit from a RAISING OF THE BAR. Raise your personal bar, and expect better of yourself, and for yourself. Don't accept any less than honorable behavior from yourself and those around you. Treat others honorably as well. Will this spread? try it and see.