Therapy

Going to therapy was always kind of a problem for me. Apparently I have so many problems that the psychiatrist thinks I am delusional. It is only when I start pulling out legal records that they figure out that my life is just that fucked up. Basically I have had some pretty bad psychiatrists who have told me "no one's life can suck that bad." Which is pretty much why I don't get along with or see eye to eye with any therapist.

So yes, I have been shot before. My father shot me with a shotgun for not hoeing enough corn fast enough.
Yes, I had to dig out the bird shot myself and treated the wounds. Yes it hurt, and yes it made me upset. So now I tend to be afraid of having a gun pointed at me with intent. Go fucking figure.

Yes, I would regularly get woken up by a deranged man who would order me out into a field to do manual labor all day in whatever I had slept in the night before. I wouldn't even be given the chance to grab shoes, food, or water. The sharp gravel path to the field really hurt my feet then the hot  clay dirt would burn my feet. To this day I have ridiculously thick calluses on my feet. Then I had to work in hot sun till my mother came home and then I would be given access to food and water. But if I didn't get enough work done he wouldn't give me dinner. On those days I would have worked outside all day and would then have to cook all of us dinner. The worst part would be if I didn't cook enough food then I wouldn't even get any. Yes, my father was a complete asshole.

Yes my father and uncle both have meth addictions. He chose meth over me so I have been adopted by a couple different men who accept me as their daughter. It is a pretty sweet deal. I get fathers who actually give a shit about me and don't have to put up with contact with a meth addict who tried to kill me repeatedly.

Yes I grew up with a schizophrenic sister who would randomly beat the shit out of me for no reason.

Basically with all of this we aren't even up to the issues I had by age 10 so I can pretty much win on having a sucky childhood. Too bad that the shit still hasn't stopped flying yet.

Inheritance

I don't remember much from my great grandmother because I was so young when she passed. She had a tiny dog that was more afraid of me than I was of it. The hair was so thin that even the gentlest petting would cause her to flinch. She always felt safer with great grandmother than with me.

She sacrificed her only bath tub to grow a large tree which she had kept for years. No one would let me touch the tree and for years I didn't even think it was a real tree. No matter how much I begged I wasn't allowed near the thing. I don't even remember which kind of tree it was but it basically had the bathroom to itself. Not having any toys for me to play with she would turn on this electric flower which would change colors. I would sit here for hours in a darkened room with a rubix cube just watching the colors change. I never did get very far with the cube though since one of my cousins had already taken all the stickers off and put them back on once to show that he had solved it. A different cousin took the think apart once to solve it so it was rather broken.

When she died I didn't know what that meant. My mother tried to explain that we couldn't go see her any more and that all her things would be given away in a process called inheritance. I really wanted the light with the color changing flower. I had my heart set on the item knowing I would receive it. What I was given rather shocked and appalled me. An antique zit popper, an emergency sewing kit, and antique dish towels. Yes I admit that I had really bad acne but to have it explicitly mentioned in her will in front of the entire family was a bit much.

The device bears a striking resemblance to this one. Basically I was explicitly given a small piece of aluminum that would fit in the palm of the hand and had been used by many of my relatives to remedy their acne. That thought on its own is rather gross. But with the application of some bleach I had to admit that the device did work. I used it for years till I lost it. The sewing kit I lost almost immediately. Apparently I was only given it to stop the relatives from arguing about who should get it. The dish towels are something I still use today but it took a college class to explain them. See flour and sugar were once sold in fabric sacks and people would then use those pieces of fabric for other purposes. In this case they were turned into dish towels. I know because the logos are still on them though they have faded a bit.

It is nice that she mentioned me in her will but it took years to fully appreciate the irony and oddity of such gifts.

The Great Sriracha Famine Begins

The official court ruling went through today so you may now partially kiss your sriracha good bye.

National Novel Writing Month (how it all ends)

There has been an exciting new biological discovery inside the tomb of the Chernobyl reactor. Like out of some B-grade sci fi movie, a robot sent into the reactor discovered a thick coat of black slime growing on the walls. Since it is highly radioactive in there, scientists didn’t expect to find anything living, let alone thriving. The robot was instructed to obtain samples of the slime, which it did, and upon examination…the slime was even more amazing than was thought at first glance.

This slime, a collection of several fungi actually, was more than just surviving in a radioactive environment, it was actually using gamma radiation as a food source. Samples of these fungi grew significantly faster when exposed to gamma radiation at 500 times the normal background radiation level. The fungi appear to use melanin, a chemical found in human skin as well, in the same fashion as plants use chlorophyll. That is to say, the melanin molecule gets struck by a gamma ray and its chemistry is altered. This is an amazing discovery, no one had even suspected that something like this was possible.

Aside from its novelty value, this discovery leads to some interesting speculation and potential research. Humans have melanin molecules in their skin cells, does this mean that humans are getting some of their energy from radiation? This also implies there could be organisms living in space where ionizing radiation is plentiful. I’ve always been a big panspermia proponent, the idea that life did not originate on Earth but is actually common in the cosmos. Organisms that can live in space certainly gives more credence to this idea.

Possibly this could also be used to create plants or mushrooms that could grow in space, serving as a food source for space travellers. Maybe these fungi could be modified and used somehow to clean up radiation contaminated environments. There’s quite a few of those, in fact the disposal of radioactive waste is still a huge and unsolved problem. Now the fungi couldn’t actually eat the radioactive isotopes, I’m not saying that, but if they can live in radioactive environments they might be used to somehow scour out or concentrate the radioactive isotopes in such a way as to facilitate their clean up.

Imagine, there’s fallout from a nuclear accident and what do the guys in suits do? They show up, spray mushroom spores over everything, and a few weeks later the mushrooms are harvested and disposed of while the contaminated area is now radiation free. It would certainly be useful, the picture at the top shows the still abandoned town of Priyat, Ukraine. It was built to house the workers at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant, and was evacuated within hours of the accident.

An excellent story about the Chernobyl disaster and Pripyat is at the Ghost Town link. Just be aware that, no, Elana didn’t actually ride her motorcycle through the radiation contaminated zone, that was poetic license on her part. (Motorcycle enthusiasts have motorcycled across Europe hoping to duplicate her tour, only to be told by the guards that that motorcycles are not allowed in the contaminated zone.) The pictures and descriptions are accurate though, some of the images are incredibly poignant. Just think, a whole town where the inhabitants fled without warning, leaving all of their possessions behind.

Fortunately the Chernobyl reactor was an old and unsafe design, only one other reactor in the world was built the same way. It was right here in Berkeley, a research reactor built on campus in the fifties. It was sagely decided to quietly shut it down after Chernobyl; while it couldn’t have had an accident on the scale of Chernobyl, the locals were a little concerned anyhow. In fact it was a block away from my favourite burrito place, yikes.

(The above image was released into the public domain by its author. Credit: Jason Minshull.)

https://unitedcats.wordpress.com/2007/05/29/major-biological-discoveryinside-the-chernobyl-reactor/ 

National Novel Writing Month Pt 18

    Pale glowing figures happily bathe in that wonderful pool inviting me to join. I can’t resist and join them. The water is warmer than I last thought but oh so relaxing. The water relaxes me and drains away all my worries. A woman offers me soap and I  happily accept. It has been days since I could bathe properly. One of them even washes my back for me. The kindness of strangers can be striking but wonderful at the same time. Shaking out my hair to wash it as well I am struck by how long it is. I didn’t remember it being so long or full last week. It feels like it has grown at least six inches since I last washed it. The soap softens it. Diving under the water to wash out the soap I relax further, exhilarating in the caress of the water on my skin. The water surrounds me and holds me softly in an embrace. Surfacing I could swear my hair has grown longer still. I must be imagining things. Hair doesn’t grow a foot longer in only a few moments. The stress must be getting to me. The women are smiling and giggling around me but they are not making fun of me they are simply enjoying themselves. There are more women waiting to bathe so I reluctantly leave the pool.

    Someone offers me a large plush towel which I gratefully accept. It is soft, warm, and feels so good on my skin. I can almost taste the softness of the cloth. Shaking out my hair and attempting to brush it with my fingers a comb is offered to me. It is silver, engraved with graceful leaves and set with stones. The teeth are fine and it detangles my hair very nicely. These women are very kind and open to sharing even with a complete stranger like me. Looking for my clothes they are not where I left them. Looking slightly panicked I see them being washed. That is very kind but what am I to wear while they dry? My concern must have been evident on my face because an outfit is offered to me by a beautiful young woman.

The clothing is strange and I have no idea how to wear it. Giggling at my confusion two women help to dress me in a greek style toga. They put jewels and flowers in my hair braiding it and styling it similar to how they are wearing theirs, anoint my skin with scented oils, and drape me in fine jewels. They even put a pair of soft leather boots on my feet. The clothes are more comfortable than I ever imagined them to be. I am warm but not hot and can move freely. The cloth is softer than silk but obviously made from some kind of lightweight cotton. The belt helps to give the dress shape. Seeing my reflection I can hardly believe how beautiful I look. Could that really be me staring back at me?

    Lost in my own reflection I wonder about this strange turn of events. Why does all this feel strange and wrong somehow? What is wrong with me? Why would I be suspicious of such kind people? They are painfully beautiful and have been nothing but kind to me. They have shared with me and even dressed me like them. They have done their best to make me one of them.

    Two women approach me and take my hands while smiling. They beacon me to follow them. A sense of exhilaration flows through me and I join them. We dance to music  can almost hear, but my feet are sure and I am very light on them. Through the beautiful temples and gardens we dance. Winding around the golden columns we dance in the moonlight. The carvings seem to move in time to the music. I can feel the music in my bones but I can’t quite hear it. Even the gowns flutter in time to the music. The sculptures come alive around us as we dance. Others join hands with us forming a beautiful line of dancers extending to infinity. Round and round we spin flowing and fluttering graceful in the moonlight. I have never been so happy in all my life. If only I could live like this forever, then every day would be perfect. The simplicity of breathing cool air and dancing is perfect. I would never want for anything again. Not tiring I dance on through a throne room curtsying gracefully at just the right moment and back out into the courtyard.

    One of the rooms contains a feast. Succulent roast meats make my mouth water. Every kind of bread imaginable is piled up on tables enticing me to try them all. Baked bread fruit sandwiches appear on my plate as if by magic. They are sweet, filling, and very satisfying. I have never tasted something so wonderful in my life. Every bite is different and all are amazing.

    Sitting at a long beautifully decorated table with my plate of delectable delicacies in front of me I smile and can’t wait to dig in. Something catches my eye. I look again and see a scared girl terrified in the moonlight shaking in the corner. She is screaming but no one seems to hear her. Why does no one help her? What does she want? Reluctantly leaving the table I go to her. She is crying so hard that I can’t make out what she is saying. I try to hold her but this only seems to make things worse.

    “Why are you crying little one?” I ask in a soothing voice. She finally looks up at me.

    “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen to you or anyone. Its not your faoult and now it is almost too late.”

    “What is wrong? What is too late?” I ask.

    “You. They have you now and they will keep you, and it is all my fault.”

    “Child no one has me and no one will hurt me. Now come lets eat.”

    “No!” She cries. “You have to run. Run now or you will be trapped here forever.”

    I am confused for a moment. Then I remember the children of the moon. What they looked like and how they danced all night. A bell tolls loudly.

    “Run now!” she screams.

    I turn and run. There are too many people in my way. I can’t get through the sea of bodies. I fight and realize that hands are trying to hold me back. They are too strong and I only slowly make ground. I am desperate to make it out of the room. I barely make it outside when the sunrise hits. The children of the moon melt away in the light. They almost had me. They almost trapped me for eternity. Who was that girl? Was she the first?

    Looking behind me I see a room that had mostly collapsed. All the people are gone. All the food is gone. Everything changed in only a fe moments. A few moments that can change a lifetime. Looking at myself I still have the fine dress on. I am still wearing the jewelry. I still smell of jasmine. My hair is still very long and braided with flowers in it. Some parts of last night live on but most of it has disappeared. Vanished as rays of moonlight in the dawn. I am shocked at how shallow and simple the illusion was and how close it was to working on me. If I had not seen the child I would have never made it out in time.

    I go back to the pool and find it just as I had the day before. The water is still flowing. The bells still ring softly. The pool still appears cool and inviting. At the pools edge are my bags and clothes freshly washed, dried, folded, and waiting for me to wear. Knowing it is a bad idea to steal from gods I take off the fine dress folding it carefully and placing it at the pools edge. On it I carefully place the jewels I am wearing the dress in my clothes.

Taking my bags I turn and quickly leave the room. The draw of the pool is ever increasing and tempting me but I resist the temptation to touch the water as I might not be as fortunate as to escape again.

I walk out of the temple grounds knowing that staying further would be too tempting. I find a stone path leading to the jungle and it eventually breaks up into the foliage. Crashing through the jungle I know why no one lives near that temple. Everyone has been captured and turned into children of the moon.

This must be a thursday. I never did get the hang of thursdays. But is it really a thursday? I look at my watch to check and yes it is a thursday. But something must be wrong. My cast is gone and my watch is showing the wrong year. Where did my cast go? My arm feels fine. I feel fantastic in fact but how could a whole year have passed since I landed on this island? It has only been a few days. Something must be wrong with the watch or did I accidently enter faerieland where a single day is a whole year in our world. Too bad I can’t call the colony and ask without getting blown up.

National Novel Writing Month Pt 17

    Fearing the unknown person living here I back away slowly and critically examine my surroundings closer. With all the fallen stonework, layers of dead leaves, and pieces of temple grounds uprooted it is hard to tell if someone lives here or not. I haven’t found any real signs of human habitation but that doesn’t mean much. They could just be very clever about hiding their traces. As though they don’t want to be found. With the size of the plot and knowing how much someone can eat whoever lives here is somewhere between one and four people. The land would not support more than that. A larger group would eat more food and be more likely to leave more signs of human habitation. Not having come across any domesticated animals I would have to limit the group further as not many of these plants produce much protein.

    It occurs to me that they might be hiding from me for the same reasons I am hiding from them. I don’t know these people, I don’t know why they have come here, and I don’t know what they want. They don’t know that I don’t want to hurt them. They don’t know what I am running from. Hell I don’t even know what I am running from or what I am running toward. What am I doing here? My life has really fallen apart this year and I don’t know where to turn any more.

    The melody of water falling draws me out of the garden. An ancient aqueduct stands tall. The air is cooler here. Green plants grow all around. The water comes in through a single source and is divided several times. Some flows around the space to cool it and then out to the garden to water the plants. Some dribbles onto bells and metal things to make beautiful music. The sound is haunting yet familiar. I listen for a long time and notice that the music changes over time as though playing different songs. The set up is delicate but precise and wonderful all at the same time. There is a great pool in the middle with a mosaic tiled basin. The water is so cool and clear that I can just make out the pink lotus blossoms at the bottom. Kneeling at the pools edge I dip my fingers in and luxuriate in the wonderful coolness of the water. Shivering with the memory of coolness I become lost in an old memory tracing my fingers back and forth through the pool.

I went to the stream often to swim or fish. I would even look for pretty stones, faeries, or gold which are the fantasy quests of children. I was alone much of the time so I would make my own fun. Growing up with a schizophrenic sister I could not trust her to go with me on my childish trips. She would have tried to drown me in the stream or thrown rocks at me in a fit of unknown rage. She was always angry with me and would hurt me badly if she or one of the voices in her head believed that I had wronged her. She would steal my toys, cut up my clothes, and shit in my shoes all for imagined slights. She never was normal.

When I couldn’t take her beating me for no reason any longer I would go to the river. I loved the river. All that water flowing with such purpose. As if each drop was important and traveling somewhere with purpose. I wished I was like the water and knew my purpose. Then I could have gotten away from that awful place to where I belonged. Instead of living where I was afraid to sleep because someone would do something mean to me. I always admired water for that reason and wanted to be like it. My heart ached and yearned to be more like the water. At least the water was always there when I needed someone to talk to. The river was one of few comforts of a hard life. I knew the water would one day take me away from this awful place and to my true love. All I had to do was believe.

The cool grass on the shore was also my friend. I could dry off on it after swimming as I never remembered to bring a towel. The towering trees would shade me so I would not get sunburnt. I love this spot. I was always safe in this spot. No one would ever follow me. No one would ever find me. No one would ever harm me in this spot. Most summer nights I would sleep here as it was more comfortable than my hot unairconditioned room. I wished all places could be like this one safe from harm, safe from ridicule, safe from people who would not understand. No one understood me. Only this spot understood me. Large bodies of water would always make me feel that way. As if I belonged. The water would call me all my life. I could never bring myself to leave the water for long. I would always return thirsty for more, for what a large body of water could give me and nothing else. No drug could match it. No high could out do it. Nothing is better than standing by a large body of water, with a cool breeze on my face, the sun on my skin. I would stand and breathe. That is the only time I would ever feel at peace.

National Novel Writing Month Pt 16

    The statues move in the moonlight glowing a pale blue and dancing to music only they can hear. The gods and goddesses of old are all here and so close I could reach out my hand and touch them. Swirling and twirling in long graceful movements they are beautiful. The artists who carved them did poor imitations of the actual people before me now. Many of those statues were damaged when I saw them in daylight but as if by magic the moonlight has made them whole again. Yet they appear just as solid as I am now. Long robes flutter gracefully as the figures move in an intricate dance I am unfamiliar with but that I feel like I would know if I got up to join in. Looking around I see that the buildings are whole again too, freshly painted, and have gold leaf accents causing them to glow all the more. The stone path is level and un marked. All the towering trees are far back from the temple grounds so as to not interfere with the buildings. Clear cold water is running in groves along the path as though it was designed to do so. It smells so sweet I am tempted to drink some. The ornately carved buildings tower to the heavens once more. Golden pillars stretch high in the air. The carvings tell stories that I do not know. Words are engraved that I can not read. I wish I knew more. None of the statues I encountered during the day are where they once were. All the figures are up and moving around. All the rubble has been cleared. Everything is perfect and glittering in the moonlight. Terrified that if I move this dream might end I sit still and watch the silent figures. All are smiling and some through their heads back laughing wholeheartedly in ecstasy. None of them appear to notice me and continue in their revelry.

    The women all have long braided hair laced with flowers. Stone jewelry practically covers them from head to foot. Chains with stones drape them prettily. Circulets, bracelets, necklaces, and even draping stone laden belts. Something is odd about the stones. All the stones are the same kind of stone. It hits me suddenly that all the jewels are moonstones. Lots and lots of moonstones decorate the figures from head to foot. Are these the legendary children of the moon? Ethereal spirits which come out only in the moonlight and dance. I have heard many legends about them. They can not harm anyone, many can not even interact with you but beware of going anywhere with them or entering their buildings as it all vanishes with moonset. If you stay too long you can be trapped and turned into one of them. Able to only walk the earth in moonlight. There are so many of them as if the entire community was turned on a single night. The first is said to be a young girl who was lost in a forest at night. She was cold, tired, hungry and very beautiful. The moon saw her and took pity on her placing an inviting cottage in front of her. As she was desperate she entered the house finding food, water, a warm fire, and a bed she made herself at home. She was unaware of the danger and stayed too long. By morning she was trapped by the moon forever being one of his people. As she was lonely she came down every night and would trick strangers with her beauty, laughter, or crying and trap them as well. For the moon was jealous of the earth and wanted people to dance upon its surface as well. This is a legend told from a book found outside the moon house. Each bite of food taken in the house allows you to interact more and more with the moon people but it also weakens your resolve to leave. In the end a trapped young man couldn't find the strength within himself to leave so he threw his journal out the front door. A stranger came upon it and kept it for many years. Eventually the book made it into our library.

I wonder which of these moon people came first or if the moon people can move from site to site and dance all over the world. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I take solace in knowing that I am safe from capture by the moon as the piece of ground I am sitting on existed before the moon rose and I do not find myself suddenly inside a building by chance. I do not feel afraid of these moon children. Only curious about them and faintly enchanted by them. Their dancing continues for hours and the are still light on their feet given strength from the moon to keep going. So beautiful and happy that my heart breaks for them. Yet there are worse fates than to be trapped by the moon and dancing nightly happily. Eventually the exhaustion creeps up upon me and I fall back to sleep.

Upon waking I explore the temple grounds. So many great stone structures are all around me. The years have not been kind to the buildings and they are falling down. Many have trees growing out of them with great roots thicker around than my arm. People have been gone from this place for a very long time. Those who danced here once before must have been gone for centuries. My heart aches for those people. I must learn more about them, who they were, and why they turned into moon children. I have only ever known one or two moon children to be out at once not hundreds. There is something here worth investigating and I must learn what it is.

With my wanderings I come across an oddly tended garden. Everywhere else in the temple complex there were no signs of habitation for years yet there is a tended garden flourishing in one of the temple courtyards. All of the plants are edible most are annuals, and all of them are growing in straight rows and are weeded. If someone isn’t here now then someone comes here often.