Pat Bertram's Blog, page 79

Malaise

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I’m having a hard time thinking of something to write about today. To be honest, I’m having a hard time even caring about thinking of something to write about, or caring about much of anything. Oh, I am still enamored of my house — I feel blessed to be here. I am still intrigued with the possibilities for landscaping. And I’m still hopeful about my newly published novel. But other than that, I’m feeling . . . disconnected. Or maybe just upside down.

Part of it, I’m sure, is shock over the direction people have chosen to steer this country. We’re already as close to socialism as I ever want to be, but apparently, most people want what I don’t, and the thought of what’s going to be happening in the next few months and years makes me nervous.

Part of it, too, is that I’m tired. I still haven’t recovered from the time change, though why that should make a difference, I don’t know. I’m also tired from caring about things I have no control over.

Part of it is that I spend too much time alone. I have my job, and I do see other people now and again, but I am too much in my own head, which isn’t always a good place to be.

And part of it might be that, as my tarot card today intimated, I am at a crossroads, needing to reflect and reevaluate my life so I can have a better understanding of where I am and where I need to grow. (One thing, I know is that I need to opt out of reading or hearing any news — I no longer want to know anything “they” are doing since there’s nothing I can do about it.)

Of course, all of the above could be hogwash. It could simply be that I have nothing to say. 411 days of daily blogging is a long stretch. (I had to look up the word “hogwash.” know what it means in its usage today but not how it started out. It turns out hogwash is not something for cleaning hogs, as I vaguely assumed, but is actually swill — kitchen scraps one feeds to the pigs.)

The weather was nice enough today after the winds died down that I was able to take a walk, which helped. And I had a couple of nice meals — eggs and a vegetable salad. So maybe this malaise will soon pass, at least I hope it will.

***

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My latest novel Bob, The Right Hand of God is now published!

What if God decided to re-create the world and turn it into a galactic theme park for galactic tourists? What then?

Click here to order the print version of Bob, The Right Hand of God. Or you can buy the Kindle version by clicking here: Kindle version of Bob, The Right Hand of God.

It’s Alive!

I’ve never had a green thumb. Any indoor plant — and most outdoor plants — I ever had took one look at me and promptly expired, so a few months ago when a friend gifted me with a plant she’d grown from her mother’s purple passion plant, I accepted with an outward smile and an inward groan.

Luckily, she said it wouldn’t hurt her feelings if the plant didn’t make it, which made me feel a whole lot better. And also, luckily, the plant isn’t picky about being watered — once a week or thereabouts is all it needs.

Despite my benign neglect, the plant seems to like it here. It’s in front of southern window with a light curtain that I mostly keep closed, so the purple passion plant gets plenty of diffused sunlight.

Surprisingly, not only has the plant thrived, but whenever it gets too tall and stringy, I lop of the top of the plant and stick it in the pot, and that bit thrives, too. Because of this, it doesn’t have nature’s symmetry but a rather wild appearance.

But it’s alive, and that’s what counts. Or at least, I think it is.

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***

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My latest novel Bob, The Right Hand of God is now published!

What if God decided to re-create the world and turn it into a galactic theme park for galactic tourists? What then?

Click here to order the print version of Bob, The Right Hand of God. Or you can buy the Kindle version by clicking here: Kindle version of Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Make-Believe Worlds

I’m seceding from the world at large and planning on disappearing into make-believe worlds. There are simply too many horrible or stupid or insulting conversations about the election in the real world, the seemingly most innocuous being one of the worst, for me. People are saying that this was a contest between two men and should not be affecting our relationships with one another. While I might agree with the second part (to the extent that people keep their insults and aggressiveness to themselves), I definitely do not agree with the first part. To say it’s a contest between two men makes it seem like a high school presidential election where the most popular person wins. Many of our national elections have been like that, with nothing at stake, but this election is historic. It was not a choice between two men, but between two entirely different directions for the country to take — between freedom and subjugation, between choice and control, between more government and less government.

People on both sides are appalled that so many people voted for the other side, which means, again, that it was not about two men but about all of us.

So, I’m seceding. Or maybe it’s more that I receding. Either way, I’m finding comfort in make believe worlds.

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I’ve got books, my yard (though I had to give up on digging up the grass in my garden because the tops of my feet hurt from all that unfamiliar work), and I’m immersing myself in one of those silly hidden objects game where you search for . . . you guessed it . . . hidden objects. I play my own game (which should come as no surprise to anyone who knows anything about me). The game itself is free, but you are expected to buy “energy” (the coin of the realm) with real money as well as various other artifacts, but my game is to find ways of playing free. For example, if players agree to watch a commercial, they get gifts of energy and other e-delights, and I always agree — it gives me a chance to rest my eyes. They also occasionally have a side game that can be played free, as well as “happy hours.”

The game amuses me. It keeps my attention and provides exercise for my not-as-sharp-as-it-once-was memory, but it’s also an excellent example of an inflationary world. The more you play, the more energy you can accumulate, but the more energy you accumulate, the more each phase of the game costs. But, unlike in the real world, I can find ways around the inflation, such as playing the most “expensive” games during happy hour, and only playing the “cheap” games with my accumulated energy.

For now, I’d rather live in the make-believe worlds in games, in novels, and even inside my own head. At least, I don’t have to listen to lies and comments that irk me.

To set the record straight, none of the comments left here have ever irked me in any way. I appreciate every one of you and your comments. But then, this blog, in its own way, is also a make-believe world.

***

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Speaking of make believe worlds, my latest novel Bob, The Right Hand of God is now published! Click here to order the print version of Bob, The Right Hand of God. Or you can buy the Kindle version by clicking here: Kindle version of Bob, The Right Hand of God.

What if God decided to re-create the world and turn it into a galactic theme park for galactic tourists? What then?

After the Peace

For the past eight years, I’ve participated in the BlogBlast4Peace movement. Whether it helps propagate peace or not, it’s still a good project because at least for that day, a large number of people are committing acts of peace. It was a hard day for me, because unlike previous years, people could not post my blog’s link to Facebook, so I was left out of a lot of the activity. When people did try to link, they got a message that this blog did not meet FB’s community standards.

Standards? What standards? It’s become a place for advertising — every other post on my feed is an ad for some dubious product, many direct from China (though you don’t find that out until after you have ordered said product) and others that turn out to be scams that you end up paying for every month until somehow you can get the subscription cancelled. When there is a legitimate post, their fact checkers are on the ball — the biased ball — and often manage to confuse the issue more by claiming as true what is false and as false what is fact.

And yet, my blog — this very blog you are reading — doesn’t meet their standards. That I have temporarily found a way around the block by reblogging my posts on another blog and posting that link to my author page on FB, doesn’t mitigate the damage their block has done. My personal voice on the site has not been blocked — just this blog — but I am so disturbed by the events of the past few days (and people’s reactions to those events) that I’d just as soon stay away. Staying away, too, ensures that I don’t say anything that can come back at me as more and more of our freedoms are eroded. I have to remember that my main reason for developing a web presence has been to promote myself as an author, and hopefully entice people into buying my books.

Which leads me to a question — does anyone do Instagram? I know it’s popular, though I can’t imagine it being a good place for gaining book recognition, but I was wondering if it was fun. Until recently, I didn’t have a phone big enough to make using the site feasible, but now that I do have such a phone, I’m revisiting the possibility. One of many drawbacks is that it is phone intensive, and I am not a fan of doing much via phone, but the main reason I hesitate is that it is owned by FB, and I’ve had enough of FB’s shenanigans to last a life time.

At least I still have this blog. I can say what I want (unless I censor myself), can write a long or short article, can post photos and probably even videos if I so desired.

And I have my website, or at least, I do for now. I received an email today from my domain provider that since Adobe decided to discontinue their Flash support, my website builder won’t work anymore, so they are moving me to a different website builder. They told me to click a button, and everything would be transferred over. So I did, and it wasn’t. All I saw was an ugly generic photo of a hand writing with an old pen on a piece of paper. I couldn’t figure out how to do anything on the new site (especially since the email said it would automatically be done for me) so I called the company.

According to the heavily-accented fellow I talked to, the site isn’t automatically switched over — their techs will have to do the work and they will let me know when the site is ready to go live. What he said and what the email said are so different, it’s hard to know the truth (but that seems to be standard these days). Adding complication to an already complicated situation, many of the links on my website go to my blog or to another site. (When we set up the original domain, we also set up one for Jeff, and now I use that blog for extra web pages, though I don’t really need to. With all the links navigating elsewhere, I don’t need as many pages as I thought I did.) The old site won’t be deleted for another couple of months, so I have time to wait and see.

As if that weren’t enough, one of my answers on Quora was hidden because they said I plagiarized. Apparently, one can’t quote themselves without attribution.

I’m sure you’re not interested in my web woes, but I bet you’d be even less interested if I screamed to USA voters, “What the hell were you thinking?”

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All that’s crashing down on me — the general mess in the real world as well as my personal mess in the web world — is making me rethink my online goals. Do I have any? Well, yes. To sell books, of course, to keep up the discipline of writing in at least a small way, and to have my own slice of online life, of which this blog is paramount. The rest — FB, Instagram, Quora, even my own website, not so much.

Luckily, the peace acts I committed yesterday are keeping me from being swept away by these issues. I’m calm about everything, in part because of what my tarot card told me today — to have courage in the face of that which cannot be changed. To that, I will have to add: to have courage (and patience) in the face of what is changing beyond all possibility of my control.

Peace to us all.

***

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Speaking of my books, my latest novel Bob, The Right Hand of God is now published! Click here to order the print version of Bob, The Right Hand of God. Or you can buy the Kindle version by clicking here: Kindle version of Bob, The Right Hand of God.

What if God decided to re-create the world and turn it into a galactic theme park for galactic tourists? What then?

Dona Nobis Pacem

I joined the peace bloggers in 2012. And every November 4th since then, I have blogged for — and about — peace.

This year’s theme is “Peace in the time of quarantine.” Although I do not believe in the possibility of world peace (because war and other international conflicts are never our personal choice but are fostered by others or foisted on us by circumstances), I do believe in personal peace, in finding peace within ourselves no matter what happens to provoke us into chaos.

We tend to think of peace as a passive thing. An absence of strife. Effortless calm. Yet, when we talk of unrest and chaos (or whatever is the opposite of peace), it’s always about action, doing something, committing something — committing acts of terrorism, declaring war, fighting, rioting, tormenting, bullying.

Maybe peace is also about action, about committing acts of peace. We as individuals can’t arrange truces between warring factions, whether global or familial. We can’t bring peace to chaotic countries — ours or anyone else’s. Often the best we can do is bring peace to our own lives, arrange a truce between our inner and outer selves, find a way to ease our anger, create art (because people who are involved in creating a piece of art are also creating a space for peace), meditate or take a walk. Commit acts of peace.

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It’s odd to think that this time of quarantine, which because of enforced isolation and orders to stay at home should have been a time of peace, has been one of the most violent times in recent years. But the country at large, especially the bigger cities have been ablaze with chaos.

Of course, being forced into isolation — any sort of force, actually — can’t bring about peace. It’s no wonder people were so ready to erupt into violence — isn’t that some sort of law of physics? Equal and opposite reaction and all that? On a smaller scale, victims of abuse were forced into situations where they had no escape, so for these people, instead of bringing about peace, the quarantine brought about more horror.

Apparently, I have nothing positive to say about peace in the time of quarantine, even though my own life during this time has been quiet and contemplative. I’ve managed to stay away from strife — except for occasionally getting riled up by all the lies and idiocies going on. I’ve even managed to commit acts of peace — if only by taking solitary walks, blogging, reading, enjoying a rare visit with friends.

If you don’t have a blog or think this a hopeless cause, you can still participate in this event by committing an act of peace. I hope you will.

***

Please check out my new book!

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“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to order the print version of Bob, The Right Hand of God. 
Click here to purchase the Kindle version of Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Walking in the Cemetery

A friend invited me to go walking with her in the cemetery yesterday, and I jumped at the chance. It’s a pretty place — at least in the daytime — and even historic, containing, as it does, graves of some early settlers. It’s also free of dogs, which are becoming more of a problem all the time.

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I found it interesting that yesterday was also All Souls Day, which made the trek apropos. We didn’t encounter a soul — dead or alive — as we meandered along the roads, searching for the grave of someone she knew who had recently died. Many of the graves were decorated with fake flowers. With the advent of silk flowers, I’ve wondered why there is still a market for plastic flowers, and now I know the answer — they are the flower of choice to decorate graves.

As my friend promised, there were no dogs.

With daylight savings time ended, it gets dark early here, and will continue to get darker for the next several weeks. I am so not a fan of the creeping darkness, but it’s even worse now because of working. My shift ends after sunset, and though I don’t worry about walking in the dark — it’s only two blocks on a quiet street. Besides, there’s a streetlight, and I carry a flashlight, so I’m not worried about the darkness as such. What does worry me are the dogs running loose. It’s one thing when it’s light enough for me to see them coming, another to have them approach out of nowhere.

I’ll have a stick, and even some pepper spray that someone gave me, so I should be okay. I’d heard that spraying water is even more effective, but for now, I’ll just stick with what I have and worry about other deterrents later if necessary.

I hope I remember to leave a light on in the house to make it more inviting — somehow it seems so lonely coming home to a dark house, even though I don’t notice any problem in the day.

Despite my reservations, it might be nice walking in the dark. I don’t often do that anymore — mostly because there’s no reason to. It’s too bad that there are just enough lights in town to obscure the stars because I do enjoy walking under the stars. I’ve heard that a vast number of stars are visible just outside of town, but since I don’t like driving at night (or maybe it’s that the night doesn’t like me driving), I haven’t yet explored the possibility.

I hope I don’t sound cranky. Despite unpleasant dogs roaming loose and the creeping darkness, I feel grateful for all I have — a job, a house to come home to, and friends who invite me to go walking in the cemetery.

***

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Bob, The Right Hand of God is now published! Click here to order the print version of Bob, The Right Hand of God. Or you can buy the Kindle version by clicking here: Kindle version of Bob, The Right Hand of God.

What if God decided to re-create the world and turn it into a galactic theme park for galactic tourists? What then?

The Grass From Hell

I malign this poor grass. Bermuda grass is only the grass from hell if you’re trying to dig it up. It’s a chore, that’s for sure! Because of it’s extensive — and deep — root system, it takes several stabs with a shovel to get deep enough to pull out even a small chunk of the grass. And it does come out in chunks of soil and roots.

I imagine this ability to bind soils makes it a good grass in windy areas, such as this one. I certainly don’t lose any topsoil (assuming there is any at all in this ancient yard) during the high wind storms. The deep roots make Bermuda grass hard to kill with neglect. Even if it turns brown in the heat of summer, it will always come back with a touch of rain. Despite that — or maybe because of that — it is heat and drought resistant. When I figure out what areas of my yard I want to be green, I’ll water the heck out of the grass and end up with a lush looking lawn.

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For now, I know one area I don’t want the grass — it’s between the two sidewalks and would be hard to mow. Besides, that island will make a great zinnia bed. And so the grass has to go, though to be honest, right about now, I’m rethinking that plan. I’ve worked a couple of hours today and yesterday, and oh, am I exhausted! To say nothing of sore and weak-kneed. The area is approximated six feet by sixteen feet, and I’ve managed to dig up maybe 24 square feet so far. Lots of hard shoveling! And even after digging up all those roots, chances are the grass will come back because not only does it have such an extensive root system that it’s impossible to get every bit, it also propagates by seed, and there’s no telling how many seeds are left behind. No wonder the preferred method of removing the grass is to zap it with Round-up, but that’s not anything I would ever consider.

I have a hunch this is the wrong time of year to be digging up grass or doing any gardening other than planting a few things that prefer to be settled in the fall, but the way I figure, I’m here now, the grass is here (and by no means green, not even on the other side of the fence!), the ground is still faintly damp from the recent though long-melted snow so the digging is a mite easier, and it’s a good reason to be out in this perfect fall weather.

The weather will change again next week, but with any luck, I’ll have most of the island grass-free, ready for spring fertilizing and planting.

I did mention, didn’t I, that we planted my greengage plum trees? (Well, my contractor and his helper did, I just stood around and pretended I was working.) I had an extra tree (I’d ordered it for a friend who no longer had a place for it) and without any better idea of where to put it, we planted in the middle of the island. I’ll have to prune it every year to keep it small, but that will make the fruit easier to reach — assuming there is fruit and assuming the birds leave any for me. In a way, it will be like a birdfeeder without all the work and the mess. (Though I am sure there will be other messes, but I don’t want to think about that.)

If by chance, I’ve whet your appetite for digging, you are welcome to join me in my yard tomorrow around mid-morning. I have an extra shovel.

***

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“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to order the print version of Bob, The Right Hand of God. 
Click here to purchase the Kindle version of Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Next Time

A portmanteau word is a word that combines words, such as brunch, which is a combination of breakfast and lunch, but since a portmanteau is a large trunk, it would make more sense for portmanteau words to be those that carry extra weight and meaning.

Such as “next time.”

I’d never thought of those particular words — they are so common as to be almost meaningless — but a character in a novel I just finished reading believes “next time” are the two best words in the English language. “Next time” is not exactly mellifluous — others words are much prettier, such as ethereal or serene — but the more I think about “next time”, the more I can see what the character means.

“Next time” tells a story. Something didn’t happen the way you planned, you made a mistake, you weren’t quite good enough, but another time will come around where perhaps things will happen the way you planned, you didn’t make a mistake, you were good enough.

“Next time” is actually the premise of most stories. The story of the three bears comes to mind. The first time Goldilocks sits at the table in the bear’s house, the chair was too hard and the porridge too hot. The second time, the chair was too soft and the porridge too cold. But the next — oh, the next time everything was perfect. As simple as the story line is, it’s the basis of many tales, especially the hero’s journey. He tries, doesn’t succeed. Tries a second time, giving it his all, and still doesn’t succeed. But he undergoes a transformation, becoming the hero — the person who can succeed. And the next time he tries, he accomplishes his task. (Technically, I suppose, the middle try is also a “next time,” but in a way, instead of disproving my point, it shows that there is always another next time.)

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“Next time” isn’t just about stories. “Next time” carries within itself a whole trunk full of possibilities, of hope, even of miracles. Anything can happen the next time because . . . well, because it’s not this time when so many things are going wrong.

“Next time” offers a promise of a second chance.

“Next time” gives us a chance to be better. To be kinder, more thoughtful, more careful, more whatever we need to be next time.

So, no matter what happens today and in the next several days, take heart that there will be a next time.

***

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Bob, The Right Hand of God is now published! Click here to order the print version of Bob, The Right Hand of God. Or you can buy the Kindle version by clicking here: Kindle version of Bob, The Right Hand of God.

What if God decided to re-create the world and turn it into a galactic theme park for galactic tourists? What then?

Oh, My! The Pressure!

Oh, the pressure!

It’s not just that today is Halloween, because no one comes to the door anyway. The next street over is where the activity is.

It’s not just that I had three big trees to plant, because I had help planting them.

It’s not just that this is the last Saturday before the election that might change our lives forever, because at this point, there’s nothing I can do about it.

It’s not just that daylight savings is ending with all the problems the time change brings because, well . . . there’s nothing I can do about that either. I could of course not change the clocks as I did (didn’t do?) one year when I was young and just deal with the wrong clocks, but since some clocks change themselves nowadays while others don’t, dealing with two different times is more confusion than I need.

It’s not just that today is another warm day in a string of warm days after the big freeze — that’s not where the pressure comes in; it’s that I had to drag out my hoses again as if we were heading toward spring rather than winter.

And oh, yeah, speaking of winter — it’s not just that winter is around the corner.

It’s that tomorrow begins a new month and I have to pick a tarot deck to use for the month. (I pick one card every day to see what it can tell me, though usually what it tells me is that it has nothing to do me with.)

Oh, my! The pressure! It’s not the same for normal people who have but one deck (or not decks at all). I have dozens of them! I suppose I could continue using the deck I’ve been using, though that one doesn’t really speak to me. Actually, none of the decks I’ve used so far seem to strike a chord, so I’ll have to keep trying out the various decks. I figure a month gives each deck a good tryout, and so here I am, back at the beginning of all this roundaboutation with me needing to pick a new tarot deck for November. I guess I’ll just close my eyes and grab one. And voila! That lessens the pressure.

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(Out of curiosity, I looked up roundaboutation because MSWord says it’s not a word, and to be honest, I thought I was making it up, but it is actually a word that has been in use since the 1800s. Who knew?)

I hope your day is a lot less pressurized than mine. I’d say Happy Halloween, but I don’t know if saying that is acceptable any more or if it’s been changed to something more specific for those who subscribe to identity politics or something less specific for those who are too sensitive to deal with other people’s business. I sure as heck don’t need that kind of pressure, so I’ll just say, “Have a Happy ___” and let you fill in the blank.

***

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Bob, The Right Hand of God is now published! Click here to order the print version of Bob, The Right Hand of God. Or you can buy the Kindle version by clicking here: Kindle version of Bob, The Right Hand of God.

What if God decided to re-create the world and turn it into a galactic theme park for galactic tourists? What then?

Version of Reality

It’s an odd experience, trying to sort truth from propaganda and outright lies because if one thing is true, the other thing can’t be, and the whole narrative we’re being told falls apart. If some of the “facts” we are given are fabricated, then obviously, we can’t use those facts as a basis for balancing what is real against what is not. Although it doesn’t make it so, I tend to believe that what is banned is in fact real because my blog was banned, and that sure is real and not spam or fake or whatever other rational FB used to ban it. And I tend to believe that banned stories are true, because if they were false, no one would care enough to ban them. (And if you think that the self-appointed gatekeepers of information have your best interests in mind, think again!)

If what we are learning about certain corrupt hack politicians is true, then it makes for a very scary future. In fact, the whole scenario of this election in the USA sounds so much like a farfetched political thriller, with the fate of world dependent on the outcome, that none of it seems real. And maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s all a play — or some sort of alternate reality — being enacted for our benefit.

So what is real? It comes down to what we can see out in the real world, not on news broadcasts (because those are horrendously biased), or in videos (because those can be falsified), or in photos (because of the ability of anyone to alter any photo). And it’s about what we hear in the real world, again, not from broadcasts, videos, etc.

So, this computer is real, as am I. The sun outside is real. The squirrel that is eating at the birdfeeder next door is real (though I’m sure the birds wished it weren’t).

In this version of reality, there are no politics, no lies or “false facts,” no grab for globalist power.

There’s just me and what I personally experience.

But when things are narrowed like that in a discussion of reality, we have to wonder if what we see, hear, touch, taste, smell is really real. The mind, apparently, has an infinite capacity for self-deception, especially in times of chaos and confusion. It can convince us that whatever reality it has conjured for us is in fact happening, when it might simply be our poor overworked brains trying to make sense of a senseless world. We also seem to come equipped with blinkers, which keep us from seeing that what is happening out in the world is actually happening to us.

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So is anything real? On a certain level, of course, nothing is real. Everything comes down to various wavelengths or particles of energy that seem to disappear into nothingness the closer one looks. Our brains — themselves wavelengths or particles of energy — translate that energy into the reality it wants to feed us. Still, whatever the truth, I think we have to pretend that something is real.

Since I can’t verify that anything going on outside my personal range is actually happening, I choose to pretend that my senses are showing me a version of reality — the only reality — that is real and true.

***

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“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to order the print version of Bob, The Right Hand of God. 
Click here to purchase the Kindle version of Bob, The Right Hand of God.