centre of the universe - the dreaming

*Terribly* good in fact. I have been SO good, that I believe I ought to receive a grain-burning stove. And a million dollars' worth of renovations to my home. And a current pool. And time - time to traipse up to Hometown North and pick up my dining table, buffet, vanity, and bureau drawers. Time when it isn't a million below so that the wood won't crack. Time to actually *clean* the house rather than hide the mess. (Although, on the character sheet of "cenobyte", mess-hiding is one of the higher-ranking skills in which I have points. I shall post that character sheet some day for you.)

I would like someone to cook for my family, not because I don't like to cook, but because if someone else does it for me, I'll eat the vegetables. I eat salad if it's done by someone else. I love salad!

I would also like some dust repellant. bleah.

Then, if there's enough wishes left to go around, and in that vein of time/home renovations, I would like someone to help me redo my kitchen. And by 'redo', I mean paint. And where can one find tin ceilings these days?

Oh, and the obligatory love and respect for all the peoples of the world, a lot of hand-holding and humming indistinct tunes in the semi-darkness of a bonfire.

On a completely unrelated note, I was at a wedding last night. I couldn't tell you who the couple were, but there were an awful lot of people at the wedding that I knew, which is always nice. It was held in Saskatoon at the Bessborough hotel, where, in the ballroom, they have these enormous water canons that shoot water fifty feet into the air and can be programmed to match the music in the room. There are lights sunk into the floor as well, surrounding the water canons, which make a glorious show during the reception.

A fellow I went to school with was there - he's now a policeman, and we talked about all kinds of things. And when we retired to our respective rooms, we discovered our rooms were adjoining, by a single door in the back of the closet, which locked on each side. I won't mention what sorts of things this door led to, because that would involve my not having woken up.

Labels: Christmas, dreams, Wishes

I was driving home after work this afternoon.

No, that isn't right.

My heart aches. I don't want to listen to the radio until the tempestuous news cycle is finished with this. In fact, I don't even want to share it with you. I'm going to, though. A three-year-old boy went missing in Abuquerque. His mother confessed to burying his body in a playground. She did this after she had laid down with him on the play structure, placed her hand over his mouth and nose, and strangled him. She had second thoughts, and performed CPR on him, and revived him. Then, she strangled him again. The CNN news story is here.

The woman reportedly told police she didn't want her son to grow up feeling unloved and alone.

So she killed him.

I cannot stop thinking about this woman and her little boy.

On the heels of the vitriolic rant posted here a couple of days ago, I am beginning to wonder...to seriously wonder what the hell is going on. What kind of hell do you have to be in to murder your baby? What kind of hell did she go through when she was a child to convince herself that her child's death would save him from the horrors of a life she herself cannot endure. What kind of hell will she live through for the rest of her life?

The pictures in my head are vivid and horrible.

I don't want to hear or read any comments about how the mother should be put to death or sterilised or tortured. I don't, in fact, want to hear anything about this. I want to turn off the outside world right now, but I can't unhear the report. I can't unread what I've read ...unknow what I know... This will be all over talk radio and newspapers and blogs in a few hours, if it isn't already, and yes, I am contributing to that. I am contributing because my soul is shaken. Because maybe in writing about this, I can calm my thoughts.

What I want is ...I want the mother to heal. I want her to be rehabilitated, not vilified. No, I'm not insinuating she's not guilty, or shouldn't go to prison if found guilty. No, I'm not saying that she oughtn't be punished.

She will never know her son's joyful, pure laughter. She will never kiss his soft cheek. She will never hold his hand in the park again. No first day of kindergarten. No bike rides. No splashing in puddles, no endless board game afternoons. No clutching hugs, and no little voice saying "I love you, Mummy". She has taken the greatest gift, the greatest honour someone can be given, and she has destroyed it.

And I need to believe that she has done this thing because she honestly (however delusionally and mistakenly) believed she was protecting her baby. I need to believe that.

Two years ago, a frightened and messed-up young woman gave birth to a baby in the toilet in a local store. She left the baby in the toilet and left the store.

Another woman abandoned her baby on a -29 February morning in 2007. She waited and watched until she saw someone in the house of the doorstep she left her daughter on.

Please, God, send them to me. These broken spirits, these children whose mothers cannot bear them.

If I could be mother to the world, believe you me I would. If I could gather up each of these children in my arms, I would.

All alone I didn't like the feeling
All alone I sat and cried
All alone I had to find some meaning
In the center of the pain I felt inside

All alone I came into this world
All alone I will someday die
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby
Sand and water, and a million years gone by

I will see you in the light of a thousand suns
I will hear you in the sound of the waves
I will know you when I come, as we all will come
Through the doors beyond the grave

All alone I heal this heart of sorrow
All alone I raise this child
Flesh and bone, he's just
Bursting towards tomorrow
And his laughter fills my world and wears your smile

I will see you in the light of a thousand suns
I will hear you in the sound of the waves
I will know you when I come, as we all will come
Through the doors beyond the grave

All alone I came into this world
All alone I will someday die
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby
Sand and water and a million years gone by
-Beth Nielsen Chapman, "Sand and Water"

Labels: babies, breaks my heart, just wrong, Wishes

I always wished i had a dancer's body.

Long and lithe, supple and hardened...rippling muscles, and a grace I could never muster on my own.

I took ballet when I was fairly young, but I never did get a dancer's body.

I wouldn't know where to stash it anyway, so it's probably all for the best.

Labels: bodies, Wishes

Ever since I was wee, for as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be African.

In particular, South African.

My mother, when I was young, when I was very very young, told me about Apartheid, and I always wanted to see this beautiful country that had been rent apart. I desperately wanted that gorgeous, radiant dark brown skin. I wanted to look like those women in their beautiful brightly coloured dresses and turbans. I wanted a throaty, husky voice, and that smooth, intoxicating accent.

I understood that African women were being killed and raped and their children were being torn from them, and their husbands murdered. I understood it was not the sort of place you should want to live. I knew about Nelson Mandela and that he was being persecuted. I knew all that, and still I desperately wanted to be a South African woman. I wanted to dance in the dust of the parched earth with my sisters, the soles of my feet kicking up whorls with every step. I wanted those rhythms and those harmonies; I wanted the spicy scents and the dry, desert heat.

Labels: Wishes