In a recent email, a new friend commented on my list of teachers, asking me "who is Stanley Spadowski?"

Who is Stanley Spadowski?!?  OMIGOD!  He's like the end all, be all of janitorial philosophy.  He's my hero and my teacher because even in a stupid 80's movie, I find enlightenment.  Don't believe me?  This weekend, go out and rent UHF.... Yes, the one with Wierd Al Yankovic.  I don't pretend that Wierd Al is a guru of any sort, believe me.... damn funny though.  BUT, STANLEY....  He has a monolog in the movie that I find inspiring.  It goes like this:

This is my new mop.  George my friend, he gave me this mop.  It's a pretty good mop.  It's not as good as my first mop.  I miss my first mop, but thisi is still a good mop.  Sometimes, you just have to take what life gives you.  Cause life is like a mop.  And sometimes, life gets full of dirt and crud and bugs and hairballs and stuff, you just gotta clean it out, you put it in there and rinse it off and start all over again.  And sometimes, sometimes, dirt sticks to the floor so bad, you know that mop, a mop just....it's not good enough...You have to get in there with like a toothbrush, you know, and you gotta, you gotta really scrub!  You've got to really try to get it off.  But if that doesn't work, that doesn't work, you can't give up.  You gotta stand right up and gotta run to the window and yell, "Hey, these floors are dirty as hell, and I'm not gonna take it anymore!!

Now, how can I argue with truth like that? Forrest Gump, eat your heart out. Life's not just a box of chocolate.  Mmmmm.... Chocolate.

Remember, don't take life too seriously.  It helps to deal with the irony. 

Namaste
Thea

One of the most frequent comments I get when getting an email or friend invitation on Zaadz (oops, sorry, GAIA) is "I love that title - Cogitator"; which I find horribly flattering, but also am a bit confused by.  After all, I didn't make up the word, I just applied it as a philosophy.  I think alot.  I've always been that person who just floats away on a breeze somewhere in mid conversation, mid movie, mid "oh look, a bird!"....  I daydream constantly.   It's quite annoying, really, unless it's applied to something useful.  Hence, I took up meditation. 

I've found out so many little truths about myself just by being alone and talking to myself.  Yes, I admit freely that I not only talk to myself, I make up people to talk to, I talk to mock audiences in my head - I resonate with Truman when Jim Carey does that little space man skit in the mirror.  I've done that too.  I'm completely narcissistic, I admit that freely to anyone who gets to know me, and I make no apologies for it.  I'm just being honest, after all.  I did this in childhood and it stuck with me as a tool in adulthood.  And I don't mind that people think I'm a little nuts, these little things about myself help me to really "know" myself.  I spend TIME with myself because, frankly, I like me and I'd like  to get to know me better. 

I love getting to know other people, I love "knowing" other people.  That moment when you speak to someone and there is that little "click", even though you don't know why, you are attracted to this person.  It's not just a physical thing, there are many types of people I've done this with: kids, old people, young people, you just "know".  With both of my two best friends, with every x boyfriend, with everyone who I've let stick around, even people I've parted company with years ago, there is that little "click" that I remember upon first "knowing" them, knowing that they changed something in me and me in them. 

Bringing this back to myself and thinking - this is the little rush I get by knowing myself.  The click. Man, it is addictive - No stellar body, no deep chasm of ocean, no other being is more mysterious to you than yourself.  This is how I can spend an hour on a Saturday morning.  I'll sit in my room and just - think.  Alone.  No distractions.  What do I think about?  Today, I just gravitated towards doing this little mock dialog thing in my head, like I was giving a lecture to an audience.  And I just mentally talked this out - I have to work on comics today.  Why am I having so much trouble with this?  Why am I afraid to do this?  Why do I want to succeed at this?  I don't like what I currently do and I want a change.  Why don't you like what you currently do?  It's not what I'm "supposed" to be doing... I suppose I'm supposed to be drawing.  Why?  Well, because I have talent... Says who?  Well everybody.  But not the people that will give you the work.  None of them have said it.  Why?  Well, you really haven't shown them you can do this.  Why?  Well I've been busy... working.  So that they'll notice.  Even though I don't show them anything.  Because I'm scared of this.  Why?  Afraid of failure, I suppose.  I want the people who believe I have talent to be right.  I want my parents to be right.  Why?  Why is it important that your parents are right, that you have talent, that this is what you should do with your life?  Well, if they're right, and I am worth all this, then they will be proud and sorry that they left me......

At which point I stop and deal with the simple fact that in my deepest mind, buried somewhere underneath making money, watching National Geographic channel and obsessing over my weight and youth, I still have abandonment issues.  See?  No shrink required.  I just had to sit down and have a little convo with myself.  The TRICK of course, is to do this without totally falling apart.  The first few times I did this (about 4 or 5 years ago) it always devolved to me either distracting myself quickly with food, tv, sex or inibriation, OR crying in my pillow like a four year old who's pet hamster died - The kind of cry that happens explosively but only lasts about an hour and is forgotten when something else comes by to distract you.  Now, after much practice, I can feel the momentary pain of it, but I can remove my emotional attachment to it, look at it from all angles, and rationalize the emotion to better understand myself.  If all of my hang ups about success are wrapped up in abandonment, I can see where that is irrational because although I may feel abandonment in many walks of my life, no amount of success in comics or any other profession I've fantasized about will erase it.  Therefore, I can now cut that link in my mind and freely pursue my life without the fear of failure or of success.  Now, I can draw a picture.  Now I can focus on working for the joy of it rather than the outcome. 

This may not be novel to you.  This may seem like old hat to you, maybe you do it all the time yourself.  Maybe you did it when you were a kid, but forgot as an adult.  Maybe you have more disciplined ways to think, something I try to hone and define every day through academic study.  Maybe you're thinking - this chick is cracked and she needs therapy... why did I friend her again?

Here is my philosophy - Perseverence, justice, temperance, fortitude, prudence, wisdom - all of these things can come only with thinking rather than just feeling.  This is why I cogitate, why I endorse it and wholeheartedly take part in it - because I love myself enough to know myself fully and can thereby know more people.  And believe me, I do want to "know" you.  Perhaps I will not know you today or when we first meet.  Some people, although you try, you can never get to know because of mental blocks in their or your minds. But that will never stop me from trying.  Because to know thyself, to know all people and things is divine.  And that is the path that I've chosen - to know the divine in life.  What better reason is there to be living? 

Namaste
Thea

I have a very emotional response to stress.  It's bothered me for a long time.  I've found remedies for it, but some days....some days, I throw logic and reason and meditation and self help books out the window and just go a little nutty. 

I attack first.  Gut the poor bastard down, before he/she/it has a chance to know what's coming;  It's a response that has been so natural for so long that it is very difficult to turn off.  Consequently, I'm a horrible defender.  If I can't attack, I will just lay prone like a jellyfish on the beach and let myself be stepped on because I probably deserve it.  This horribly twisted fight or flight response has been a sore spot for me.  I've broken the habit, somewhat, but every once in a while, I just can't seem to control my anger enough.  I see red, blood red.   Anything and anyone I come into contact with is fair game.  It's on days like this that I really can't stand being me.

Emotions cloud reason.  Being this angry of a person is very confusing to everyone, even me.  It's like someone lighting you on fire after tarring you and asking "where does it hurt?" EVERYWHERE.  I'm not just angry about any ONE thing.  There are a pleathora of things to be angry about.  I suppress my anger. I don't engage it; I won't even acknowledge it;  I behave civilized and stuff it way down.... Until the last straw comes floating ever so gently to break that camel's back and then it's "OH, RIGHT, WELL EXCUSE THE HELL OUT OF ME FOR BREATHING.  YOU PEOPLE SUCK!  ALL OF YOU!"

So silly, right?  I've been angry and stressed all morning, all evening last night, for reasons that I keep to myself every other day, for things that normally don't bother me.  I'll explain my anger away, saying - oh, look at the calendar, friendly monthly's coming next week, that must be it; (or) you know, I just didn't get enough sleep; (or) I haven't been keeping up with my meditation this week; (or) I'm just a little down because of (insert excuse here).  But the fact of the matter is, I'm angry because I have reasons shoved down somewhere to be angry about, or what some like to call "shadow".  And, even though I feel horrible about it, that doesn't make me a bad person.  It doesn't make me dysfunctional.  It makes me a person with baggage - just like everybody else. 

Last night, my spouse read me an article about Mother Teresa's memoirs that are being publised (look for it in What Is Enlightenment magazine)  - it seems that for a great part of the time, even towards the end of her life, Mother Teresa, one of the most famous humanitarians in the world, had issues with faith, had doubt, had remorse, had all of those things that we mere humans don't think apply to our heros.  Well, anyone who's ever read a hero comic book can tell you, that just ain't so. 

I suppose the moral of the story is, I'm not perfect - but I'm still good.  I still would be good, despite all of my problems and frustrations, ups and downs.  I just have to repeat it now and again.  So do we all.

Namaste
Thea

Song of the day:
That I Would Be Good - Alanis Morissette

That I would be good even if I did nothing
That I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
That I would be good if I got and stayed sick
That I would be good even if I gained ten pounds

That I would be fine even if I went bankrupt
That I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
That I would be great if I was not longer queen
That I would be grand if I was not all knowing

That I would be loved even when I numb myself
That I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
That I would be loved even when I was fuming
That I would be good even if I was clingy

That I would be good even if I lost sanity
That I would be good
Whether with or without you.

Photo:  Fathom by Michael Turner, a comic book god!

Here are some lyrics from our very own resident Songwritergenius at Gaia.com!  I've never had a song written for me before, so I'm quite flattered by this little number.  I'm hearing a meshed sound between RHCP & Black Eyed Peas.... Anyway, I want to dedicate this song to all the pretty mamas out there - Miami to Cali.  Feel like Venus today, you deserve it!  Namaste! 

Pretty Miami Mama

Pretty Miami Mama
Lying upon the water
I am the sun in your eyes
When you hear my guitar play
It makes me wanna say
Pretty Miami Mama rise

Pretty Miami Mama
Soft upon the water
I know you are there
Kinda silky is your hair
And beautiful brown eyes
You put music in my song
And my lyrics turn you on
Pretty Miami Mama rise

And it's your morning to rise
Take a look in my eyes
Com on pretty Miami Mama

Pretty Miami Mama
Lying upon the water
I am the moon in your eyes
Around me are the clouds
I adore you in the crowds
Hey pretty Miami Mama rise

And it's your swee time to rise
Take a look in my eyes
come on pretty Miami Mama

---Joe Osborn
Songwritergenius

I have two sisters.  It's strange to me, calling them sisters.  My family and I have been estranged for many years and being that I do not really know much about my sisters anymore, nor of their children, it seems to me that they should fall into a less familial category.  But they are still my sisters, to this day.  They are the children that I grew up with, we share DNA, parents, the same latin temperament that I keep complaining about, etc.

I don't think on them often, not out of choice but out of habit.  It's my mind's way of keeping on point.  You can't over agonize the past without having it haunt your present, and anything that is their subconciously is going to be a problem anyway, so I may as well let it come up when it feels like it.  This morning I awoke from a very strange and disturbing dream about dying pet sharks and buckets and going back to school.... never mind.  The point is that when those types of dreams occur, when I wake up feeling that sense of unrest, I try to pay attention to what my mind plays with during the day.  And this morning, it's been playing with Evita.

I've never seen the movie or the play.  That's another irony of my life, growing up in New York, the theatre capital of the world, and not seeing this play.  I know the lyrics of "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" from a 70's disco remake that I listened to as a kid.  I loved that record.  That is the version that has been playing on a loop in my head all morning.  I tried to remember the words, but I couldn't recall them, just this awful 70's disco beat pounding in my temples. 

Words are so important, they slide into your mind like silverfish looking for cold dark places to hide, especially in childhood, and most securly through song and rhyme.  I could only remember snippets, but It reminded me of being very young, of brown shag carpets, tube televisions, fried pork chops, New York City on the East River, and - my sisters. 

By this point in the thinking process, I knew I was on to something, a connection between myself, my sisters, and the song I remembered from so long ago.  I took a dive into my subconciouse, googled the lyrics and voila - now I know why my mind is restless. 

To Brenda & Ivette:  This song is dedicated to my sisters, who are estranged from me physically, but not from my heart and mind.  We will always be sisters.  I love you both very much, even though you are not here to say the same or to share in mutual trials and triumphs.  I hope these words will seep in and hide in your minds as they have mine.

Dont Cry For me Argentina

It won't be easy, you'll think it strange
When I try to explain how I feel
That I still need your love after all that I've done.

You won't believe me.
All you will see is a girl you once knew
Although she's dressed up to the nines
At sixes and sevens with you.

I had to let it happen, I had to change.
Couldn't stay all my life down at heal
Looking our of the window, staying our of the sun

So I chose freedom
Running around, trying everything new
but nothing impressed me at all.
I never expected it to.

Don't cry for me Argentina.
The truth is I never left you
All through my wild days
My mad existence.
I kept my promise
Don't keep your distance.

And as for fortune, and as for fame
I never invited them in
Though it seemed to the world they were all I desired.

They are illusions.
They are not the solutions they promised to be.
The answer was here all the time.
I love you and hope you love me.

Have I said too much?
There's nothing more I can think of to say to you.
But all you have to do is look at me to know
That every word is true.

Namaste
Thea/Eva

Last night I saw a documentary that I want to share with you all. 

The name of the documentary is Killer's Paradise.  The documentary details the horrors faced by women in Guatemala.  Shockingly explicit, so if you do have the opportunity to watch this documentary, please be advised to bring your kleenex.  We're talking about women cut, maimed, decapitated.... and nothing is being done.  These women are being thrown away as prostitutes and gang members - even as young as 12.

Two women are killed in Guatemala DAILY.  The population of Guatemala is only about 15,000, if memory serves.  Not one of the killers has been jailed.  there is no recourse for the family of the victims because none of the crimes are followed up.  Your daughter could be standing out on the street in broad daylight and be kidnapped before your eyes - and the police will not be able to track down the killers.

Unbelievable, I could not believe it, until I saw the families of the victims talk about this.  They cried over the graves and caskets, asked god to take them and leave their children.  I was so enthralled and yet so heartbroken.  

I'd like to invite as many people as possible to watch this documentary and comment especially all of you hispanic women out there.  You cannot watch this and not be affected by the stories.  It's on the documentary channel all next month.  Please follow the link for times in your area.  OR alternatively, if you don't have cable, try Netflix - they always have documentaries.  

Namaste
Thea