My Darling Charlie

My favorite animal ever passed away this weekend. Charlie was 5 1/2. He found some anti-freeze, and in typical Charlie fashion helped himself. Symptoms didn't present for several days, and you have to start treatment for anti-freeze within 5-10 hours. Blood tests identified kidney failure on Friday, and we put him to sleep on Saturday.

This post comes at a time when I feel kind of distant and clinical about the experience, but everything comes and goes. I will post more thoughts about it (and believe me, they exist in intense abundance) later this week.

For now, though, I thought I would share this video with you. I got to spend about an hour with him at the vet on Friday, and I'm so thankful for that time. Everything is raw -- completely unedited. I just plopped it into moviemaker and left it uncut, so it's rather rough. But I love it. I love it just because it actually contains some of my favorite simple things about having Charlie in my life -- the feel of his ears, the color of his coat, his puppy habit of curling up between my legs, the musculature of his body (I know, I'm sounding weird), and how he just couldn't help wagging his tail -- even when he had such little energy. I dearly, dearly loved that dog. And I think he dearly loved me back.

Aunt B!

I'm an aunt! My little sister Susan had her baby this weekend. I'll write more a little later, but here's my favorite pic for now. :) He's precious.

Thanks to the Stones.

Recently watched this movie again. It was just on the tube, and convenient. Really the movie came to me, I don't think I even had a choice. Something knew I needed it. Or maybe I'm giving the universe too much credit -- maybe I just knew I needed it.

It's not even Christmastime.

What I love about this movie is how everything is lovable. And this is exactly the thing that makes me want to have babies. Honestly, I could probably do without the little outfits, the stupid toys, the crying and pooping and feeding. What I really want is the over-achiever subconciously trying to clear the clouds with an uptight girlfriend, the martyring mother of a daughter, the young confused pretty spitfire, the son that goes off to get high with his dad and transparently teddy-bears his way into everyone's hearts, and the gay son in a mixed-race marriage. That's family. I mean, that's really family. That's exactly the picture of what I want to be -- the matriarch of diversity -- able to love each one freely and equally. Now that I'm married, and the possibilty of family moves closer and closer, I start dreading the next 15 years -- but this is what I'm really looking forward to.

I'm sure at some point along the way Mother Nature will give me the maternal juice that allows a woman to cherish the baby years. I certainly hope so. But for the meantime, The Family Stone is my fantasy. Someone pass me a crisp white collared shirt, please.

Asses Aware

The only book that's ever really made it's way to my soul and managed to stay there is Awareness by Anthony de Mello. The subtitle is "The Perils and Opportunities of Reality," which kind of just sounds like a stoner's stab at being deep. It's actually a Christian book, which you know right away because of the completely ridiculous picture of a perfect sunset on the front. I always tear these book covers off; they cloak any good message in cheese. I've never before been impressed by Christian books. Kind of for the same reasons I typically have a hard time with their culture -- the sickening imbalance of perfection. But this one is great. It presents good ideas and good philosophies as just that -- good ideas & philosophies. And then, as kind of an afterthought, he says, "Oh and by the way, this is how it ties in with Jesus." Which is great for a person like me.

You don't need to know anything and everything about my personal spiritual situation. That's not what this is about. But I thought you could use a little to credit the book in case you're a bit of a skeptic like me.

The following text is taken from one of my very favorite chapters in Awareness. I know it's long, but I think if you happen to be reading this because you actually know me, then you might at least get a kick out of it. I hope that in my lifetime, I can achieve the kind of reality that he talks about. Not only in this segment (because it's actually somewhat out-of-context), but what he talks about in the whole book.

Kudos to my sister, Em, for introducing me to Mr. de Mello.

There's nothing so delightful as being aware. Would you rather live in darkness? Would you rather act and not be aware of your actions, talk and not be aware of your words? Would you rather listen to people and not be aware of what you're hearing, or see things and not be aware of what you're looking at? The great Socrates said, "The unaware life is not worth living." That's a self-evident truth. Most people don't live aware lives. They live mechanical lives, mechanical thoughts -- generally somebody else's -- mechanical emotions, mechanical actions, mechanical reactions.

Do you want to see how mechanical you really are? "My, that's a lovely shirt you're wearing." You feel good hearing that. For a shirt, for heaven's sake! You feel proud of yourself when you hear that. People come over to my center in India and they say, "What a lovely place, these lovely trees" (for which I'm not responsible at all), "this lovely climate." And already I'm feeling good, until I catch myself feeling good, and I say, "Hey, can you imagine anything as stupid as that?" I'm not responsible for those trees; I wasn't responsible for choosing the location. I didn't order the weather; it just happened. But "me" got in there, so I'm feeling good. I'm feeling good about "my" culture and "my" nation. How stupid can you get? I mean that. I'm told my Indian culture has produced all these mystics. I didn't produce them. I'm not responsible for them. Or they tell me, "That country of yours and its poverty -- it's disgusting." I feel ashamed. But I didn't create it. What's going on? Did you ever stop to think? People tell you, "I think you're very charming," so I feel wonderful. I get a positive stroke (that's why they call it I'm O.K., you're O.K.) I'm going to write a book someday and the title will be I'm an Ass, You're an Ass. That's the most liberating, wonderful thing in the world, when you openly admit you're an ass. It's wonderful. When people tell me, "You're wrong." I say, "What can you expect of an ass?"

Disarmed, everybody has to be disarmed. In the final liberation, I'm an ass, you're an ass. Normally the way it goes, I press a button and you're up; I press another button and you're down. And you like that. How many people do you know who are unaffected by praise or blame? That isn't human, we say. Human means that you have to be a little monkey, so everybody can twist your tail, and you do whatever you ought to be doing. But is that human? If you find me charming, it means that right now you're in a good mood, nothing more.

It also means that I fit your shopping list. We all carry a shopping list around, and it's as though you've got to measure up to this list -- tall, um, dark, um, handsome, according to my tastes. "I like the sound of his voice." You say, "I'm in love." You're not in love, you silly ass. Any time you're in love -- I hesitate to say this -- you're being particularly asinine. Sit down and watch what's happening to you. You're running away from yourself. You want to escape. Somebody once said, "Thank God for reality, and for the means to escape from it." So that's what's going on.

We are so mechanical, so controlled. We write books about being controlled and how wonderful it is to be controlled and how necessary it is that people tell you you're OK. Then you'll have a good feeling about yourself. How wonderful it is to be in prison! Or as somebody said to me yesterday, to be in your cage. Do you like being in prison? Do you like being controlled? Let me tell you something: If you ever let yourself feel good when people tell you that you're O.K., you are preparing yourself to feel bad when they tell you you're not good. As long as you live to fulfill other people's expectations, you better watch what you wear, how you comb your hair, whether your shoes are polished -- in short, whether you live up to every damned expectation of theirs. Do you call that human?

http://www.demello.org/

While I do think that a lot of this guys ideas are magnificent and goal-worthy, I haven't quite achieved all of them. So, until then, and in direct reference to the above snippet, I will still be receiving & cherishing compliments, but trying not to let put-downs bother me. So line up & bring'em on!

In a nAMe

I did it today. Changed the ol' last name to a new one just a few hours ago. It was a much more complex decision than I expected it to be. Do I keep my maiden name? (even the descriptor of it is wonderful) Do I take a married name? Do I find a way to hyphen or blend them? Tuschwo...Touche...

I finally decided to embrace tradition (and for a lot of other reasons) and take his name. I believe the tradition is pretty damn sexist of us Americans. I think the Mexicans have a far superior system. But, when in Rome... So like a lemming, I am a Schwope.

This is the last picture ever of me as a TUMMONS. (in my car in front of the SSA building)

I told Tory my compromise was to keep Tummons for all things music related. He said, "Sweet, dog, it will be like a stage name. And then if you go into porn, you can also use it for your screen name." Oh, honey. You're so classy. I love you.

Tabula Rasa

It's just the beginning. I'm going to try to get the hang of this, and then start posting like mad. I guess you could call that ..."going postal"? No more tabula rasa for me. Get ready for tabula fabula!