Refracting Reflections

Hello.

This is a post from some one whom, you may, or may not, personally know. Why now, if you did not know who I am, would you be reading this? To what point do you come through here and decide that this is what you want to read? How did you find this? The first time. How did you find this?

Can you even remember?

Do you want to even try?

Society today has us so focused on the new, on the dazzling. Splendor is shoved in our faces, 'til we no longer see it, and the magnifience of the world and it's accompaniment is lost on our souls. Do you even know how to walk a path that is not made of gravel? Make cookies, and cakes, and dips, and meatloaf and other such things? From Scratch? Will you ever dare try? Pre-made. Pre-cooked. Pre-packaged. Pre-thought. Every action and reaction that you make is held and measured. Is it like the factory made things? No? Well no good then. It was only her first try? Well maybe she better stop, and just buy it like the rest. She wants to learn? Take a course, study some books. Actually talk to people with experience? The person you approach will be astonished. Astounded.

Think for yourself?

Prehaps the greatest sin of all from society's point of view.

Why do we conform?

Disappointment.

Fear of disappointment. Of whom? My brother posted a quote recently, I can't remember how it goes, but it's a good one. You should check it out.

Here we go 'round the Prickly Pear, Prickly Pear, Prickly Pear...

What is your passion?

Why?

To be passionate about something, what must you be? What must you feel? The dictionary defines passionate as;

1. having, compelled by, or ruled by intense emotion or strong feeling.

2. easily aroused to or influenced by sexual desire; ardently sensual.

3. expressing, showing, or marked by intense or strong feeling; emotional: passionate language.

4. intense or vehement, as emotions or feelings: passionate grief.

5.easily moved to anger; quick-tempered; irascible.

I am only speaking of one of these meanings, so let us take a closer look.

Having, compelled by, or ruled by intense emotion or strong feeling.

Everyone has something, an activity, an object, an event that for them, symbolizes they're life. For the student it is school, for the parent, it is their child(ren).\

But are you I passionate about what you allow to symbolize your life? Every time someone mentions the label, do you feel overcome with any sense of emotion? Anger, hatred, happiness, joy? Contempt, contentment?

Do we know how? Do you know how? To allow your emotions free reign willingly to be able to feel. Freely. Can you? Do we, as a society know how to be, passionate? To feel intense emotions to the things that we see and know.

BUT!

Ah... it's so much easier though to hold them. To use all restraint. To smile, no matter what. To float through life, never caring about what is going on. Because caring means feeling some sort of emotion. And emotions are not truly, at their base, controllable. So we don't. Care. We block ourselves off so much and so many times that we forget.

How to feel.

Deeply, how to feel deeply.

Do you know how to feel passionate. What it is to be? In that moment, with everything we have to feel so that nothing of which we know of ourselves is left out of the equation? The easiest to know it grief.

Why? Why is it bad to feel? Feeling is connected to thinking you see. If you do not care, you will not think upon it.

It will go by unnoticed. Unmarked.

Why? Why did it get this way? Why is it "bad" to become emotional?

I want to live. Life. Anyone who has done anything worth knowing about was passionate about what they were doing. I want to know what I am doing, and know what I am doing is good, not because it is 'good' in itself, but because I have given everything I am to doing it.

That I think is a better definition of passionate. For life.

I Started Writing Three Other Posts, But They Didn't Make the Cut

So I know I'm a bit late, but I figure it's ok because you see, the holiday season is very busy. It gets worse with sickness. But enough about that. I have decided a chosen what my resolutions are for the year.

I know.

I already said I was late. I told you already. I still found the time to think about it though if you think about it. That has to count for something.

My Resolutions.

#1. My first and foremost one would have to deal with my dog. I haven't taken care of her like I should have these last few weeks. All excuses aside. It hasn't happened. But she still greets me the same, and still is so willing to do what I ask. She's still willing to try.

So I vow to try harder. I really want to find something to do with her again. We did agility, we did aggression courses. Now... We can't go back to agility. And I've hit a dead wall when it comes to other dogs. So perhaps we'll go for that? Or formal obedience? Rally-O? Tracking?

I'll find something. And make it fit, and work. And work well.

#2. Some of you are surprised this is only second. Well, let me explain it like this. Living beats out non-living things. Hands down. This resolution in German. To finish the German 10 Course or to gain competency from some other forum. Short and sweet. Wish it was in practice too.

#3. I'm attempting the read 100 books in a year challenge. Or alternatively, read less on the internet and more in real life.

#4. To step up and try harder to work, well, willing at my job. Even if it's not where I want to be at. Chin up and good attitude and all that jazz.

#5. To reconnect. I might know you, but I still just see you on the street, and thus don't know you. Who you are. Where you are going. What makes you, you.

These last few aren't resolutions. More like goals to get done, sometime. On the horizon. If they stay there long enough they may become resolutions next year. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Most should be done anyways. 1) Get my N, 2) Finish my quilt, 3) Make it through my Bible, and 4) Finish the knitting.

Last year's resolution was to attempt to get back into shape. As you can see it's an ongoing thing. It's not so much a resolution now though, as it is a part of my life.

What are your resolutions/goals for the New Year?

Of Comrades laying down Arms

Hello.

It's been a while.

Things have happened. Many of which I intended to post here.

As you can see, that only remained an intent.

Let's think.

What is going on in Pony's life at the moment?

She is still looking for another job. The requirements? Preferably one with dogs. Has to pay at least 10/hour. Can not include heavy lifting. Preferably does not include me getting soaked at the end of the day. Or really strange hours.

The heavy lifting at work right now has been getting to me. I buggered my shoulder on Tuesday due to a box. Had made the muscles so tight on the other one, that the Chiropractor says they're almost gluing themselves together. It's hard to become comfortable like that. It's partly an Ab issue though. My Abs are really weak. They've been getting better (thank you Aikido), but still have quite the way to go before I have full use of them to stablize myself. And a box.

This leads to Aikido! For those of you who don't know, I no longer go to the gym. Why? It was good, but too physically demanding, especially with a job like mine. Also, I needed to change other things (like eating habits...) to be able to continue going and some of them are out of my control (like getting a different job...). The time it took me to recover eventually got longer and longer and longer, to the point where I'd make it, maybe once a week if I was lucky. Twice if I was pushing it. With Aikido, you still get the workout, and the slowing building of muscle (without the crash so far!), but also, you get taught to move.

The Sensei sometimes jokes that other martial arts called Aikido a fake martial art, because it's so fluid. When done right, it's like dancing. I like dancing. It gets even better, in most of the moves, there's what you'll understand to be a lead and a follow. They're jobs are to co-operate, so that A) no one gets hurt, and B) so it looks good. Just like some dance moves. As a bonus, you're also learning about to dodge and disable attackers. While looking good. (As an extra bonus, the people there are amazing!)

There is no nice, slightly jaring transition from that last paragraph to this one. I guess I'll have to introduce it, itself. I have a dog. I had a very sick dog. So we'll go look at Sunday. In the morning Milly goes out, comes back and throws up. Not the even of the world, she probably just moved the baby gate (She took a week, to figure that out, as she pitied me, otherwise I'm sure it've been faster) and ate something that she wasn't supposed to. It happens on occasion. Mostly comes out as diarrhea. Annoying. So later I have a nap, and consequently I am up fairly late (for me). 11:30 strikes. Milly throws up again. And again. And again. And this goes on for the next two hours. Seven times. If someone you knew did that what would you be doing? I give *one* piece of kibble, she throws that up ten minutes later, with the rest of what was conveniently available in the top of her stomach. If it were a person, you would've gone to the hospital. There is a 24 hour Vet. It's in Victoria. By Mayfair. It costs an arm and a leg. And if you actually need medication for your dog right away? A kidney too please. So for the next couple of days, I get very scared. She was fine the rest of Monday (I didn't dare feed her much at all), threw up Tuesday again (curse work!), but has been fine ever since. She back on her feed, as enthusiastically as ever, and has been bugging me again. She's an attention suck. So I think maybe we're going to be ok now. Maybe. If I am very careful. The really scary thing? I've got no inclination of what *might* have set this off. The diarrhea? Oh, looks, that's gone out of the garbage... But this time?

I feel sorry. It seems as if every time I write it's to rant. I do have these rants in my head you know. Most of the time I forget about them. Cause it's already been ranted. Why stir up the dead's earth? I don't know where I was going with this.

There is a really cool guy in Sidney. He owns a store. He is Mexican? Spanish? He speaks with a slight accent, and is Hispanic anyway. If you can tell me who he is, I'll give you a cookie when I make them for work. Whoops! Gotta go look up that recipe.

This post has been cut short due to unforeseen circumstances that take the writer away from the post. We are sorry for the inconvenience.

(Recipe and Dinnertime!)

This is a Tangent

Hello.

This is a breathing break.

Because I need to breathe.

Really everyone does to survive.

This break is just to appreciate the ability to breathe.

That feels so much better.

So, today at work I managed to get potato dust up my nose. Multiple times. Annoying yes. Not the worse thing to happen though. We have people who come in to do shopping for other people, who use the internet to order things from us. Tuesday is one of the days these order get filled at my store. The people who fill the order are called the Sendile ladies. They are volunteers. They are the same people who come in every single week. Plus their own shopping. Now really, do you think I am most patient with these people? You don't know where *this*-(rather obvious part of produce) is? And they wonder why we snap at them... Especially getting asked five questions in a row, just as it's starting to get busy. I *do* have a job. Unlike you. Didn't happen today, but has happened sooooooo many times it's hard not to get frustrated with them right off the bat. There's two really competent ladies though. Who actually have brains. And think. I like them, they're welcome to come anytime.

End rant.

Breathe.

I thought I might be getting sick again, so I cracked out the Vitamin C. And *poof* all cold symptoms gone, except for the itchness in my nose. Which I still blame on potato dust. Nobody had gone through them in a while= lots a bad ones, and alot of settled dust to disturb.

Breathe.

Now on to what this post is acutally about! Wouldn't you like to know?

Milly is very pretty. I adore my dog. -Note to self, need to get more bones-. -And brush the dog sometime this week-. I was thinking, even with all her problems, we really click. And I'm gonna miss her. And...

That's not what this post is about.

Breathe.

I am going in for my N on Friday at 2:45pm. I phoned yesterday. They scared the coherent thoughts out of me by asking if I wanted to go in tomorrow. (...Huh?...What! So soooon! Not READY!....ohsh...) So best of luck to me, eh?

Also not what this post is about.

I'm done quite a few things since actually posting a proper post last. That might be why I haven't posted a proper post... to much to talk about. I need to get my sister a birthday present, and Christmas presents. Huh. Right. Forgot about that. Finished some books it took me *months* to get through, a knitting project... Wish there was good news about German, but alas... However most of Chp3 of said story a couple of posts ago is almost done. The chapter that just got posted? Months to write and fine tune. Chp 3? -Five hours- It took *Five Hours* to get through three quaters of this chapter. It's *not* Fair!

Breathe.

Have you guessed yet? Also not what it's about.

Mother was ill. She went to hospitial, and could hardly get out of bed for a week. It was scary. I was there when she go really sick. Hospitials are really boring. I might've hurt something if I didn't have my book. She's mostly (hopefully) better now. Though some stuff was bothering her before too.

Melodrama.

Breathe.

The whole topic of my post?

*DRUM ROLL*

I am now a certified Produce Supervisor. Which sounds alot better than, say, Produce Clerk. It comes with an auto pay-raise. Yay me! Anyways cheerful thoughts and best wishes, and other such things. No funnies for you. My feet hurt. Too much standing. Back on topic. I wasn't on interwebs much besides writting this out for you.

Because judging from the overwhelming comments, you must miss me.

Funnies for the day

"(debating who's cookie it is, it's the *last* cookie) ...this tasty morsel is mine." He emphasized his remark by sticking out his tongue and slowly licking the back of the cookie.

**** watched the cookie-licking in shock. "I can't believe you did that! My baby brother used to do that! How old are you? Three?"

***** positively reveled in ****'s horror. "It's the way that goblins mark their territory. Though, it tends to get hazardous when the object that they are marking is particularly sharp or on fire."

On costume choices:

"Is that child dressed as a pineapple?"

"Why yes, I believe he is..."

Capala Shurin: Chapter Two

This is the final copy of this chapter, it stills needs little things done, like formalizing the now and then grammar that's mixed up through it. It's supposed to be now. But somehow changed itself. The story plotline, and otherwise how it's told, minus grammar issues, is how it's going to stay.

Desolation. One figure left. Tremors wrack the body. Movement.

Foot.

Foot.

Foot.

A wry smile. Exit stage left. The body retrieves the discarded pack. Hidden outside of the battle. Away from the desolation. A mile. Body collapses.

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

The weather slowly becomes cooler now as the sun ends it’s marathon days. Only half the trees in the area have begun to change colors. Those gifted enough to be in the woods could gaze at the awe-inspiring, picturesque woods. The woods held an appeal that could not be captured in any painting. Perhaps it was the way that the wind moved the branches so that the leaves could boast loudly of their changing colors as the sun reflected off the leaves brightly.

The little girl could stand for hours and stare at the leaves of the trees as they changed their colors in honor of the Fall. She had grown with the speed that all toddlers do. She was now tall enough that her head came above the women’s knee. The frown that the girl had used to continuously wear had, at first faded, then vanished. The women too began to frown less as she became accustomed to the sounds of the forest. When they had first arrived the women had jumped at any loud sound. Now the women only startled at sounds that did not appear to belong in the forest. When startled, if in the clearing, the women would grab the child and hide in the bush.

As Autumn began to gain a hold on nature the animals once again began to prepare for winter. The frolicking that had been done in spring now led to heavily pregnant females and over protective males. Animals that hibernated were nearly done collecting food for Winter; the noises in the forest were beginning to change. The women became more and more suspicious as the forest became quieter. Again she would jump at any unusual, or loud sounds.

While the women primarily took note of the animals, the girl continued her study of the trees; fascinated. The trees that had captured her attention most were the ones that at the height of summer had purple leaves. As the trees prepared to shed their leaves or the long sleep of winter, the leaves would change color. The trees with the purple leaves would create the most amazing combination of colors. Purple would turn to black, edged with brilliant red. Oranges and yellows in various shades and combinations with the other colors would make an appearance, creating miniature, temporary portraits of the spirit of the Autumn.

Under the tees whose leaves did turn, and those that kept their leaves was movement. The movement was different from the animals who lived in the area. The sounds that accompanied the movement would have sent the women for the deepest part of the under bush. The sound came:

Tramp.

Tramp.

Tramp.

Tramp.

Tramp.

This is the sound of boots heavily hitting the forest floor. These boots were filled with men. These men were covered in army green; the color of those who do not care if they blend in. Hands shift as men signal. A man passes under one of the girl’s beloved purple leaved trees. He has a limp from walking to long without prolonged rest. Emphasis is put on the lack of rest as you look at the man next to the one under the tree. This is a man whose only distinguishing feature is sunken and shadowed eyes.

The man with the limp led the way, breaking from the cover of trees to cross a small meadow that had trees growing in it sporadically. The man with sunken eyes followed ten feet behind and to the limped man’s right. To the leading man’s left was another man. This man sometimes came even with the limping man, but frequently fell behind. His tiredness was characterized by short burst of excessive energy. The last man stood behind the leading man to the right of the man who so often lagged behind. He moved so lethargically that it was a wonder that he kept up with the other men at all. From an ariel view, the men made a deformed square.

As the men walked they grumbled. Snatches of their conversation could be heard. Pieced together it told a tale of their appointed leader abusing his rights and leaving early, forcing the rest of the men to move faster to take his slack. The leader of the squad also held a different rank. He was also the appointed representative of three other squads. The four squads together formed a troop of twenty men. Each troop leader represented their soldiers in the Band Council. The Council’s main objective was to advise the higher ranking officers on how to use each squad to full capacity, what the squad was specialized in. They also oversaw the care and maintenance of their soldiers. The council was made up of many different officers with varying ranks. The total number of the Council was five hundred. When not in session the members held regular duties as according to their rank.

The man who had raised his arm to put his hand in his pocket. Withdrawing the hand a piece of paper followed. The paper was straightened to reveal a map. On the map was marked a spiral. Each piece of the spiral searched had been marked off into a grid. The spiral covered an immense amount of land. A full regiment had been assigned to the search. A regiment contained ten thousand men, composed of ten companies, which breaks down to ten divisions, made up of five troops. There are five hundred troops to a regiment.

The beginning of the spiral was marked in the middle of the woods, six days away from the nearest town, as the crow flies, but an eight day journey on horse back. This town as the trading capital of the region, it was newly built, due to the Lord of the area’s command. To build the town, and other ambitious projects, the area was under a forced change, homesteads were burned and torn down, and good farm land lay in ruins with the travel of building supplies over the shortest route possible, old roads and been made obsolete, as new roads were developed, directing buying customers away from previously well off businesses. It one had been a months hard ride on a kept road to the old town in the north. A new road had been built spanning the river. The Lord continued pushing forward with his projects, even though the people of the area were largely against it. In the new town they brought in modern convinces that the old town did not have room for inside it’s walls. When the people continued to stand against the new projects, sometimes taking shape in mild sabotage, their homes and fields were scorched to the ground, and livelihoods ruined. This action displaced many of the people in the north, the ones that had not been made examples of. The town of the North now became known as the dying town, all roads into it except for one leading south to the new town, fell into heavy disrepair.

The new town was built much like a fortress, near the mountains. A five day ride from the new town the road split. A crossroad was formed by a third road. One lead southeast, toward the new town, one southwest to the plains, and one north over the bridge spanning the river. The road over the bridge slowly bent east, then more north west, before straightening out and heading almost due north. From the crossroads it was almost another five day journey on horse back to Old Town.

Once across the bridge, the limping man lead his soldiers west to search the forest, while others went east, and others still searching the river its self, and the lake that the river pooled into in the east, past the bridge. Other soldiers had joined them to look, but then had moved off in different directions. They had been searching the forest for all of ten days before their right leader abused his privilege and left. Thirteen days after that they continued their duty. They were slow due to missing a body and the thick forest that they were unused to.

After putting in a fifteen hour search they all would meet at the end of the day to make camp. All the soldiers had become very superstitious after searching so much forest. Before meeting together again at night, other troops had lost soldiers, some who had injured themselves and could not find their way back again nor were near enough to call for help, dying of exposure before the others realized they were not keeping pace. The one funding the search had been displeased with this behavior, as it cost more time, but the solider’s superiors were unable to break them of this habit.

Wrestling with the paper so that it remained flat the man with the limp pointed at the map and gestured to the men where to go. After confirming directions he pointed out where they would meet at the end of the day. The time set to meet at the site was one hour before sunset. The men then went off to search their part of the grid as they saw best.

Before Dawn broke the next morning the men were up, and they had broken camp. At the break off dawn the men had entered the new grid and again split up to search. The man with the limp moved east through the overgrowth, moving with the ease of training that they all had received to cope with traveling through the untamed land.

The solider then turns north and begins searching his own part of the grid. The further north the man turns the more difficult it is to continue. Entire trees had been consumed by brambles, making land mines in an already dangerous area. You could never tell where pushing through blindly would gain a few feet or find a tree, and quickly arrest any progress.

The next day all the men had grouped together to try and find a way through. This is what they would have used the fifth solider for. He would have helped search for a way through the day before while the rest were searching, and they would have been able to simply continue. Instead they were stuck searching and falling even further behind the schedule.

After a day and a half of all of them looking, a way through is found. Deep breaths, sighs, stretches and other ways to relax muscles are preformed. The soldiers look to where they've come. Muscles again tighten, along with tight mouths, lips pressed together. A single strip of land runs in a relatively straight line between two near solid walls formed by vegetation, the strip turning some twenty feet left and near hundred feet right. Tall grass up to the men’s waist grows in the strip of land. Tree limbs cross at odd angles, dripping with ivy.

The soldiers hastily push forward across the grass, tripping over the uneven land. The soldiers wildly turn their heads, bodies acting as if without thought as they scrutinized the new wall of trees, brambles and vines. Quick, jerky movements become characteristic of the soldiers. Eyes wide, the skin around them tight, Jaws clenched, with lips relaxed, muscles twitching. Frantically they dodge obstacles of limbs and broom, ripping from the captors of bramble weeds, and shying from stinging nettle. The rush continued until the men broke their way through the traps Mother Nature had so carelessly strewn.

In a short passage of time you could no longer count the men's heart beats by looking at the pulse o their necks. Their movements too had become again more fluid and controlled. Again the men separated to continue to search the grid. All attempts to move faster were wallowed by overwhelming weariness. The forest on this side of the break was filled with much more undergrowth, but nearly no tree limbs were near the ground. The men separated again to finish searching out the last of this grid

Almost finished, and turning tower the meting point of the other soldiers, the limped man chanced upon a variation o the undergrowth. Parts of the ground were visible, and the undergrowth wasn't as nearly as thick over this oddity. The solider had found a path.