Eagle's Nest

 

 

The November chill cuts though the day,
as morning mists creep the streets.
Can this wind take my sorrow,
carry it off to forgotten shores
leaving room for laughter and love?

On wings of an unseen messenger
comes the season of change:
Joy to be found in laughter;
Secrets forged from sorrows shared.

But when will this herald arrive?
For the sands of time run on
and laughter is still snatched by this wind.

The answers may lie within us,
in souls entwined for good or ill.
We can but listen to the wind
and walk our path as best we can,
our eyes weeping only from the cold.

An eclectic week so far, and that's a good thing. Life can easily get stale if things slip too much into a routine. Having said that, I have been trying to structure my life recently - one of the things recommended for with both CFS and depression is to have a small number of goals, and try to achieve these regularly. This requires some planning and structuring of life, but on the other hand it's simply dull to always do the same things.

 

Speaking of balancing acts, I'm trying to spend more time doing other things, rather than just playing Dark Age of Camelot all the time. Recently, Tom has been playing a lot of EVE Online, as have some of the other people I used to chat with in DAoC. I've realised that it's the people that keep me playing DAoC, not the game itself. So I have been trying to find out when these people will be online, and planning my own gaming time around that. So far it's working great! I have a lot of fun when I play the game, because I can chat and have fun with people I like ... and at other times I can do a wider variety of other things. But I still really look forward to playing DAoC with friends :-)

 

Such as? Well I've been doing more cooking recently, which is fun and of course leads to a healthier diet than eating stuff out of the freezer (ok ok, so we had a pizza take-away last night, but hey, Tom made a bit of extra cash yesterday!). Today I've been making mincemeat, something I really should have started at least a month ago, as it's much better if given time to mature. Normally this is a mixture of dried fruit (raisins, sultanas etc, with suet and alcohol). However my cousin can't eat some of the more common sorts of dried fruit, and some members of Tom's family aren't that fond of raisins etc - so I've invented a receipe which uses all sorts of weird things :-) Basically I chuck in whatever unusual dried fruits come to hand, this year including: cranberries, blueberries, dates, peaches, papaya, ginger, pears and figs, plus lemon and orange peel of course. Oh, did I mention that I soak everything in a few buckets of alcohol? Nothing too expensive, just cheap cooking brandy, most of a bottle of creme de cassis (blackcurrent liqueur) . I use the sort made by these people - it's not the best, but hey, why waste the really good stuff on mincemeat?

 

Monday night was boardgame night with a friend - great fun! We introduced Simon to the delights of Settlers of Catan - and of course he won both games. Beginner's luck I reckon ;-)  Then we played Ebola Monkey Hunt, but it dragged a bit and, to be honest, the game isn't as funny as it's made out to be. We rounded off the evening with several games of Fluxx - a card game which is easy to learn, but can get hilariously complicated. Great fun. It would be nice to make this a semi regular event, maybe with one or two more people.

 

Meanwhile ... the flat still has no heating and it's getting bitterly cold at night. Landlord has been told this is unacceptable: we shall see if any action results. Oh and the blasted boiler is now giving us hot water for periods of no more than two minutes at a time. Well, at least this is an improvement on no hot water at all, but it makes a nice hot bath impossible. And I have a nice bottle of some especially scrummy smelly stuff to put in the next bath too!

It's been a while since I last wrote anything of substance here. Sometimes blogging just seems inappropriate to my life, occasionally actively unhelpful. Overall I think the blog experience has been a positive one - it has helped me deal with a number of issues, and there have been times when something I have written has somehow had a positive effect on someone else -- which is just really amazing and humbling.

 

 

 

 

The Nest
Exeter is a nice town, not too big and not too small. Lots of green fields and woods within easy reach, not to mention the beuatiful scenery of Dartmoor nearby. The flat has plenty of room, though to be honest it's in severe need of some loving attention. Over the last six months, we've re-arranged the rooms and increased the storage capacity somewhat, as well as getting rid of a load of stuff to friends and charity shops (mostly Oxfam, because it's only just round the corner!)

 

Two windows need replacing, and all the exterior woodwork at the rear of the flat painted as well. It's probably all rotten, but the landlord isn't going to do anything about it, so we ought to really. The hall floor needs to be stripped and polished, and the living room floor needs sanding and polishing. Both had horrible brown carpet when we moved in, but we discovered hardwood parquet flooring underneath. Sadly some bright spark had glued the carpet to the wood floor in the hall, although thankfully only round the edges of the living room. The glue needs to be stripped in the hall and both floors sanded and repolished. The living room also needs repainting.

 

Interesting fact: the word parquet is, in some countries, including France, the prosecution service. Wikipedia advises that ... "The parquet général is the prosecution service of a cour d'appel or the Cour de Cassation. The word literally means "wooden floor"; this is because, as opposed to the judges, who sit on an elevated platform during trials, the prosecution pleads standing on the floor. This also explains why the judges are sometimes referred to as "sitting magistrates" (magistrature assise) or "magistrates of the Seat" (magistrats du siège) while the prosecutors are sometimes referred to as "standing magistrates" (magistrature debout)."

 

The bathroom will be great, once we put a laminated wood floor down. Again there was brown carpet in here. There's a little painting to be finished here too, but not much. The bedroom needs re-decorating - this will be a rather strange affair, since we've decided to have it ... well ... wolfie. Fur drapes on the walls, some dream catchers, that sort of thing ... and a midnight-blue ceiling decorated with those little photo-luminescent stars you can buy (example). The idea is to simulate a warm cave, where we can lie and look at the stars.

 

Don't even start me on the kitchen!

 

Of course all this is going to need money ...

 

The Treasure Cave
Tom has a little stuffed toy dragon called Dafydd <see picture of the day>. As a dragon he knows all about keeping hordes of treasure safe. Sadly Dafydd has told us that our horde is non existant. However, we're in the final stages of selling my late mother's house up in Scotland. It's in a lovely setting within site of the sea, in the picturesque village of Portmahomack. We're hoping for £60,000+. Once we have the money from that, we'll be able to clear all our debts, and give Dafydd a nice load of gold and jewels to sleep on. [It's ok, it'll go in the bank really, just don't tell the dragon ok?]

 

Health and Work
I saw the doctor this week and we had a nice chat about a number of things. Actually one of the more profitable meetings for a long time. Sadly CFS isn't really something where much can be done, except keeping tabs on things and ajusting medication if necessary. I *think* the depression side of things is slowly improving. Difficult to say rrally, I feel like it's better than it was this time last year, but friends and partner could probably judge the matter better than I.

 

Anyway, my latest blood test showed nothing evil going on, which is a relief. Every time I have one of these things I'm always worried about what might be found. After all, the fact that I am HIV- is a miracle, given my history during the 1980s. What I do have is high blood pressure, 155/90. This is just below the point that treatment is necessary, so to avoid this I've been ordered to cut down drastically on things like salt and coffee, and to lose some more weight. No coffee? How am I ever going to stay awake? I've had one cup in the last 3 days.  But I've got to be good, because I have a heart flutter developing, which is a little scarey.

 

Hmmm. I'm sort of in the middle of making a vast pile of lasagne, and writing time is at an end for now since it's reached the point where I have to do something with the sauce. Time to upload this and go and potter in the kitchen :-) I love cooking :-) :-)

 

And hey! I told you - don't even think about what needs to be done in the kitchen to make it perfect ...

Tonight the dark is full of memories,
Pictures frozen in the past
that will not fade ...

Their bright horror
blights my present
and blinds my future.

 

Tonight there is no comfort
In the arms of one I love,
Nor in the words of friends.

 

Tonight, there is just pain.

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

In the end we are all alone. No amount of words can change the truth. Lovers and friends make promises and offer comfort. But when they are gone ... as go they must .... then we are alone. I think maybe I have tried to live in an ideal world of my creation. A fastasy reality that mirrors how I wish the world to be, not the truth of how things really are. A myth of knights in shining armour - a troubadours tale of love and everlasting friendship. A bright and shiny creation of my soul, made to reject and hide from the dirtyness and cruelty that is my past.

 

But it's not real. The star that gives me hope in the night is far away, distant and cold. It cares not for the pale flame of hope in my soul - why should it? A star has no need of a candle to give it light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The hurt and pain have come again,
I was a fool to think it would ever go,
To feel, to hope, to see some light,

To ever think it will be alright.

 

Emotions brand me through my skin
Pumping acid into my veins.
The fact that I must mask it all
Is driving me insane.

 

Alone again. Cut off. Like always.
The Eagle cries but I cannot follow
The pain has grown too much,
My wings no longer soar.

 

Like Icarus, I'm falling...

 

Falling fast.

 

 

 

 

 

Nightmares devour sleep,
All rest is lost to memory.
Fractured moments from the past
Fall screaming into my mind
Their poison brings the pain anew.
The fear, the terror of the cage
Erupts into this reality.
Then emotions die and I withdraw,
Shuttered up and cold outside ...

Hiding the convulsions within.

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

 

Picture ..... Safety is the corner and in the cage.

 

 

I seem to have a lot to sort out in my head. Past, present and future are all a bit messed up at the moment - I need to 'touch bases' and feel less adrift. But that means facing some things I don't want to face. Thus no posts here ... but I have time tomorrow, so maybe I'll write about something then :-)

 

Hugs to you all

Not so long ago, any form of sexual abuse was always denied - never talked about, and always assumed to be something that just didn't happen in a modern society. Now of course it's different. Every day it seems there is a story of sexual abuse of one kind or another in the papers or on TV. The taboo has been broken and it's possible to talk with someone that hasn't experienced abuse, and not to be disbelieved or have them just walk away because they can't accept it.

 

But that's only the tip of the iceberg. What about the things we STILL can't talk about?

 

My heart goes out this evening to a friend. It's strange the way the internet creates these friendships ... we can see each other and hear each other across the ether of cyberspace, even if we may never meet in person. A new sort of human relationship seems to be evolving ...

 

 

More in my Inner Sanctum

This, from www.theregister.co.uk

Absolute proof that scientific research budgets are not always squandered on sniffing around the Martian surface or making particles go really fast comes with the latest findings of a team from the Oregon Health & Science University School. Indeed, proponents of the theory that there may be structural differences between the brains of heterosexual and homosexual men will be delighted with the results of the latest research into gay sheep.

The team's probing of the workings of the minds of these furry Friends of Dorothy indicate that they have smaller ovine sexually dimorphic nuclei (oSDNs) than their straight counterparts. These nerve cells are found in the hypothalamus, which is - among other things - responsible for sexual behaviour. Apparently, rams who prefer the company of ladies have larger oSDNs packed with more neurons. The team tested 27 adult, 4-year-old sheep of various breeds. The group comprised eight males who preferred girls, nine with a penchant for boy-on-boy and 10 ewes whose sexual proclivities are not noted. Animal experts reckon that around 8 per cent of domestic rams demonstrate homosexual tendencies.

Team leader professor Charles Roselli said: "This particular study, along with others, strongly suggests that sexual preference is biologically determined in animals, and possibly in humans. The hope is that the study of these brain differences will provide clues to the processes involved in the development of heterosexual, as well as homosexual behaviour."

So there you have it.

 

 

The full scientific paper is available here: The Volume of a Sexually Dimorphic Nucleus in the Ovine Medial Preoptic Area/Anterior Hypothalamus Varies with Sexual Partner Preference

A wet, grey day. The boiler which supplies us with hot water has self-destructed again and the bastard landlord hasn't turned our heating on. Tom's parents are down and will be over for coffee this evening. Great, ahh well, who wants to clean the house anyway? lol

 

More on my IS blog.

Sister-outsider, in her usual wonderful way, has made me think about the question "Why am I an Eagle?" Well ... it's a very good question, and provokes a series of thoughts and memories (Hugin & Munin again!)

Perhaps it was because I was an only child ...
Perhaps it was because I was a lonely child ...
Perhaps, just perhaps, it was fated to be.

It started with a family holiday to Scotland in, I think, 1973. Back then, the Highlands of Scotland were rather more inaccessible than they are today. The main road north from Inverness was single-track with passing places ... in fact, all the roads were like that. Most had grass growing in the middle, and were really little more than tarmacked drovers roads. No, of course, there are whopping big dual carriageways on the A9 road north, and even the smallest roads have been improved, with bridges built to replace all the little ferries that had been there for centuries. Ahh well, such is progress.

I fell in love immediately. The landscape, the whole 'feel' of the place just took my breath away - it was, I think, my first spiritual experience. I do not remember ever feeling a sensation of awe, of being smaller than my surroundings, until that holiday (I was 7). I felt at home amongst the trees, the mountains and the rivers - and the sea, ahh the sea! If truth be known, I've never felt that feeling of 'belonging' anywhere else since.

A couple of years later, we went back to the Highlands for another holiday - and on a trip out to the west coast, Torridon to be precise, I ended up alone somehow. It's hard to remember, but I think that my mother had been driving and when we pulled over for a roadside lunch, she went to sleep in the car. Dad and I went for a walk, but something happened, and I ran away. I remember running, but not the incident that sparked it off, though it's not hard to imagine what must have happened. Anyway, there I was, nine or ten years old, on a remote hillside in the West of Scotland.

Then I saw my first golden eagle. I sat and watched it wheel overhead. As luck would have it, I had been carrying my father's binoculars, so I was able to get a really good view. I was entranced. The magnificent bird settled on a rocky outcrop some distance away, but, thanks to the binoculars, I had an astonishing view. To this day I swear that the eagle turned it's head and looked right at me. It probably did I suppose, assessing whether I qualified as food or a threat. Apparently I was neither, because he sat there for some time, surveying his domain. It was a moment caught in time, an endless magical experience of the sort that only seems to happen in childhood. I daresay memory has added sepia hues and framed it appropriately ;-)

From another persepective of course, this could all have been tragic. I've walked in the Torridon hills as an adult, and it is not a place to be alone, least of all as a child. The terrain is dangerous and the weather can turn very nasty in a matter of minutes.

I won't claim that the eagle 'spoke' to me in any human sense. Of course it didn't, but something about the scene definitely spoke to my soul: running away from a predatory father, to be entranced and somehow reassured by the magnificence of a predatory bird. After that I just identified with eagles. I wanted to be an eagle, I was convinced I should have been an eagle ...

Well, what can I do except post an appropriate picture of the day? Music is hard. I want to be obvious and post Abba's "'Eagle', a superb track which I love for all sorts of reasons. However, it isn't really right for this, so I think I'll just go for a track I love (albeit with a strong connection to the Highlands), a Runrig track, this time from their recent Proterra album. The song, Empty Glens brings back memories of upper Glen Affric (beyond the touristy bit) to my mind, but there's also the voice of the eagle ...

 

It's been a reasonable week, nothing spectacularly good, but nothing particularly bad either. Sailing on only mildly choppy waters but with every hope of reaching harbour safely. No stress in particular (well, there's trying to sell the hosue lol) -- and then yesterday I suddenly get a huge amount of pain, start shaking and then (while going to get a drink) black out in the hall and bang my head on a cupboard (possibly the handle, but it's hard to tell as I was busy falling down at the time). Resulting wooziness and splitting headache not fun, but I'm glad Tom was around to pick up the pieces. I would hate for this to happen when I'm alone -- not so much for myself (after all, I guess I'll only sleep where I fall) but the thought of Tom coming home from work to find me in a heap on the floor .... well, I don't want him to have to go through that.

 

Woke up around midday today feeling weak but in one piece. Decided that my idea of going to the bakery for bread was probably more foolhardy than brave, so stayed in and tool things easy instead. A vast pile of Flagship work to do, though what I really want to get done is housework: the in-laws are in town from Sunday to Thursday and I'm paranoid about the state of the house. I'll have to let Tom sleep when he gets in later, as he didn't get much last night. But maybe tomorrow we can blitz the house to make it at least semi-respectable. Can a house *ever* be clean and tidy enough for a visiting mother-in-law?

It's Monday, so it must be Flagship day. So far it's been one of those irritating "nothing's quite right" sort of days. Carol and I found ourselves hitting lots of brick walls with the magazine today: advertisers who haven't sent copy, people we need to talk to but are out of the office all week, a problem with our online payment section (which turned out to be one of our readers being slightly thick) - all irritating stuff. Even lunch was unsatisfying, in that our usual favourite place seemed to have almost nothing on - only two items on the 'Specials' menu!

 

Chatted with some friends over MSN Messenger this morning, but - well - grrrrrr. I find that typed conversations are really not as satisfying or as easy as face to face discussion. Even telephone or Internet Voice communication just doesn't cut the mustard, having a tendancy to be fine for chit-chat, reducing conversation to small-talk. Any 'difficult' or 'deep' discussion is so hard without the body language, intonation and facial expressions which are such an important part of 'proper' conversation. I've also become increasingly aware of cultural differences which can restrict what it is acceptable to talk about. Hmm, it's hard to give an example ... OK, I might find myself talking to a friend about Tom's visits to the clinical psychologist recently. I might talk about the sort of tests he had (because they're interesting) or maybe express my own feelings about the problems Tom is having. But it seems that this sort of thing would be regarded as intrusive gossip to some people. Maybe it is? Am I talking out of turn with something like that?

 

Appalling news from Kashmir. I'm sure this has already been mentioned by 1001 bloggers, but have you noticed the difference in the media coverage of this tragedy compared to the way the New Orleans flooding was covered? To be fair, there are obvious access problems for the media, but the number of dead in New Orleans seems to be around the thousand mark, while Kashmir already has thirty thousand dead and tens of thousands more injured and homeless. Yet the media seems to treat this as nowhere near as great a tragedy as New Orleans. Draw your own conclusions as to why this might be ...

 

The Chronicles of Narnia hits cinema screens soon, and I'm trying to persuade myself that I want to see it. As a child I had mixed feelings about the books. On one level I simply loved them, but on another level I found them moralising, patronising and just a bit old fashioned. Actually my favourite books in the series were the lesser known ones - the Magician's Nephew and the Silver Chair. That said, I adored a much-played tape of the actor Michael Horden narrating Prince Caspian. Well, from what I can see, the film passes the first test - it hasn't been Hollywood-ised too much. The casting of Tilda Swinton as the White Witch is inspired! I guess so much will depend on the performances by the children - child actors can either be astonishingly good, or regrettably twee. We shall see! So anyway, picture of the day is of course Aslan. I'll leave the music track unchanged, because I like Kate Rusby so much :-)

 

Please leave a comment, even if it's just to say hi!

Raven! Raven! flying high
Circling round the darkling sky
What dark omen do you bring,
Upon your beating charcoal wing?

Are you Hugin of the mind,
Or Munin here to remind?
How did darkness come to stain,
The innocence that now feign?

Can you smell the rot in me?
Lust and pride and gluttony.
Can you see the death in me,
The sickess that I seek to hide?

Will you guide me on the way
and stay beside me lest I stray?
Do you see within your eye,
The fear within which makes me cry?

Raven! Raven! flying high
Circling round the darkling sky
What new omen do you bring,
Upon your steady charcoal wing?

 

 

Hugin and Munin are a pair of ravens associated with the Norse god Odin. Hugin and Munin travel the world bearing news and information to Odin. Hugin is "thought" and Munin is "memory". They are sent out at dawn to gather information and return in the evening. They perch on the god's shoulders and whisper the news into his ears.

 

To go with the poem is the picture of the day, entitled Search for Knowledge by Leiko click here for a bigger view.

 

Totally unrelated to either picture or poem, is todays piece of music, which is a song called Our Town by a wonderful folky singer-songwriter called Kate Rusby (picture below). Check her stuff out, it really is wonderful!

 

 

Readers of this blog may remember a story a while back about Gay Penguins. Well, in shock news, the happy pair in New York Zoo have split up!  Yes, in a gift for the hopelessly misjudged Ex-gay Christian Ministries in the good 'ole US of A, Roy and Silo, penguin poster hunks to a whole generation, have ended their relationship in acrimony - with Silo leaving Roy for the 'charms' of a female penguin called Scrappy. No doubt the Central Park Zoo will become the new ground zero in the culture wars, with the ubiquitous vultures from Christian Right stopping by to remind the world just how much "God hates penguin fags."

Tom and I have recently subscribed to one of these new 'DVD clubs'. The basic idea is that for ten pounds a month we can rent an unlimited number of films, though we can only ever have two at any one time. We order online, then the DVDs get posted out to us, and when we've watched them, get poseted back (postage is all free). This seems like a very affordable way of catching up with a load of films we haven't seen and can't afford to buy. Renting DVDs from the local Blockbuster shop is all very well, but they just seem to stock loads of copies of the top ten most rented DVDs and nothing else. I think it's fair to say that Tom & I like films (and TV series on DVD) that don't always make it to the mainstream. Online, we have access to an alleged 37,000 DVDs. Anyway, we've only just started, so we'll have to see how it goes.  So far we've only watched Phantom of the Opera (the film version of Andrew Lloyd-Webber's musical). Well, I enjoyed the music, but the lead actors seemed devoid of charisma except for the ever-reliable Simon Callow and Miranda Richardson. Oh, Minnie Driver was quite funny as the established opera diva Carlotta. The film was too long, over blown and relied too much on the music to hold ones attention.

Returning to my theme of yesterday & my weekly schedule ...

Thursday: A non-Carol Flagship day. Selling advertising means writing a hell of a lot of emails, letters and a million and one phone calls. There are times when I'm sure I run up a bigger expenses bill than our actual advertising revenue ;-)  I also edit a monthly newsletter for Middle Earth Games, called News from Bree. This normally takes a full day to put together, but fortunately it's only once a month (though it slipped a bit recently). In an ideal world, I'd have a nice long hot bath on Thursday evenings while Tom plays computer games, then we'll both sit down to watch Question Time (a political debate TV programme on the BBC) and This Week (a more gossipy political programme that follows it). In practise however, the siren call of DAoC often wins out.

Friday: This is catch-up day. Because of the way things are with my health, it's not unusual for me to have to spend much of a day in bed, or crashed out asleep on a sofa. Friday is the slack as it were, a day when I can do some of the other things I had meant to do during the week, but didn't. Friday evening is sometimes a social event, but usually we're into hardcore DAoC with our online friends :-)

Weekends: These are not going well at all, being huge DAoC-fests and nothing else. I would like to devote a few hours each weekend to stuff around the flat, eg redecorating. It would also be nice to go out sometimes, even if it's just a bus ride into the countryside or visiting family - Tom's brother Ralph & family live on the other side of Exeter, whilest my cousin Anne and children also live in town. On the other hand, weekends are also a time for Tom to catch up on much needed sleep, and I like to spend as much time as possible with a dear friend online. The whole weekend thing needs some more thought! Or maybe I should stick to structuring the weekdays and let the weekends flow as they will ...

 

Finally a picture and song of the day - both Kristian Leontiou. Talent, definite talent.