I Need My Own Bear

The past week has been scant on this blog as I’ve had what I like to call a ‘thinky’ week. I have times like this, when I don’t really want to talk, I sure as hell don’t want to listen, and I will only participate on the periphery of life if it’s absolutely necessary. I’m thinky. Leave me alone.

I spent a good portion of this week with my hands in my garden, weeding, pondering and when I wasn’t I reread Walden by Henry David Thoreau. If you haven’t read it, do yourself a favorand do so. SOOOO worth it.  I also read many of my favorite blogs, which I actually tend to do only once a week when I make a promise to just read, and not write. These people are so brilliant and insightful, some of them fall on your ass funny I can’t help but worry I may accidentally plagiarise them just because they are so damn good. I’ll fill in my blogroll a little more, and when you have the time spend a day with them. You’ll thank me.

In the interest of probity, I also have to admit, yeah, it’s been a pms week. Now I’ve touched on this before, but really, you have no fucking idea. I’ve said I’d like to take a cab away from myself and that’s not far from the truth. I even had the pleasure of having my first couple of hot flashes in the middle of the night. I believe I am entering peri-menopause, but all that means to me is “Holy fuck, I’m only 42!!! I cannot put up with this shit for another 15 to 20 years!!! Get the fucking barbeque tongs! It’s time for a home hysterectomy!!!!!” Might work. Pretty sure hubby would help.

Now, I have thought quite long and hard (heh!) on the genetic flaws that I see in humanity. Sinuses. They clog up and cause nothing but grief. Tailbones. Those bastards HURT when you bump them, and I’ve had no need for a tail in eons. Why are they still there? And the female reproductive organs. I’m done having kids. My ovaries can dry up and fall  out. The body should just ‘know’ and make the necessary hormonal adjustments. Someone get working on this! You’ll be a billionaire super hero, I promise you. Women will likely deify you. If you need a guinea pig, here I am .

Hormonal, thinky me began to think about legacy and the karmic weight we  carry around. We all have it, and we all need to bear the weight of what is left us without our design or consent. We are supposed to be strong and turn the other cheek. Forgive. Be the bigger person. Hmmmm. My friend Minka over at www.righteousventing.com has a couple of posts on that particular subject.  She got me thinking even more. And I’ve come to the conclusion, I need my own bear.

A big one. A real one. One I can keep in my yard, and in the midst of my bone aching, tooth grinding misery of  emotional shit that is my pms, I can just say ‘Excuse me, but I hate you all and you bug me. I’m going to go wrestle the bear.” I’ll call him Happy. Because that’s how I’ll feel when I’m done kicking his ass. Then I’ll come back in the house, bandage up, and cook spaghetti and clean the cat litter, all while whistling a happy tune!!!

About the forgiveness. It’s so hard sometimes. And truly doesn’t work. Some things can’t be forgiven. I’ll get more into my own personal story about that at a later time, but c’mon? Some of those people who you just can’t? Wouldn’t you like to see them go a round or two with Happy bear?

For me, it’s almost anything that ends with an -ic or -ism that I just can’t abide. Xenophobic, homophobic, racism, sexism, ageism, elitism, assholism, bitchic (someone who bitches about eveything! They annoy me .Probably forgivable, but fuck it.). Anyone who abuses kids and animals. (Kidissm, animalic?) In particular, anyone who harms in any way those that are developmentally delayed. Oh, trust me, Happy bear will be well trained for you motherfuckers! I can see him sharpening his claws now. Good boy, Happy, good boy!

In all seriousness, there is something that all of us just can’t forgive. And that can become the legacy we leave to the people we love. It’s too much, it’s too hard, that legacy is heavy. We can dwell in platitudes, try to take a dogmatic approach, what have you. Still. A friend suggested we replace the word forgive with understand. To me, that’s just condoning bad behavior. ‘Oh, I understand.’ ‘Oh good. That means I can continue to be an asshole and get away with it.’ See, not quite right.

I vote for a bear. I’ll rent him out for a small fee. You can have him anytime. He can wrestle the people who have hurt you, and they can feel the pain of what they’ve done. But as I am ‘messy’ I get to wrestle him first. I hope he’ll be okay when I’m finished.

*This isn’t really Happy bear. It’s some fake kitty like bear. Happy would  kick this bears ass. And yes, I am in wrestling mode because the picture taker did something that ended in -ic. Note hand buried deeply in pocket. Grabbing my brass knuckles.*

Go on. Talk to Mama Duck.

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