NaNoWriMo Day 3
This is where my mind went today.
going back in time
myth of being thrown out of paradise
I am planning to write 50,000 + words this month in the spirit of NaNoWriMo. But I am going to do a complete stream of consciousness style of writing. It might become a Novel, it might look more like morning pages - basically word vomit onto the page to empty the brain, maybe, I get a bunch of good blog post out of it. I don't know. Feel free to read it - or not. Quality is not ensured! 😂
Tomorrow has come and the first thing I realized is that my brain hasn’t arrived with me - actually, it was missing in action for the past 3 days. As I was dating my daily post here on Scrivener - the writing program I am using - not an affiliate, just a fan - that is why I am giving you the name.
Anyhow, I was dating my post as 10/1/2019. At least I got the year right. The other day, I was writing a date and wrote 1919. I don’t even think that in my deepest subconscious mind do I want to go back in history and live at that age.
For one, assuming I still would have the same place of birth, that would put me into Germany at a time when things weren’t good at all. Not at all! Actually, it is the year my father was born and he was a young man when the war broke out. He never talked much about his years on the front but we all knew that it wasn’t a good time in his life.
Him and a few of his war friends would get together on a semi regular basis - maybe every 2 years or so and their bond lasted until they all passed away.
I was a kid then and didn’t understand the significance of their friendship. Now, as an adult, I have read and learned that it is impossible for soldiers to make anyone understand what they had to go through. Only the ones that were there can relate and understand.
It is even a bigger problem here in the US for soldiers who are coming back from combat situations. They lived in hell. No matter if we agree on the righteousness of a particular war - or conflict as we call it with our white washing language - for those who are in any situation where lives are lost, it is hell. It doesn’t matter if it is the life of the “enemy” or that of a “friend.” It is pure hell to be in a situation like that - at least that is what I think and it seems to be substantiated by the amount of problems people have when they come back.
Especially coming back to people who have no idea what is happening. People who merrily continued filling their lives with shopping, showing off on Instagram, eating food that is probably giving them cancer - wait, that is another story and will come up for sure when we finally write our way to the community garden.
Pure hell being there and hell again coming back often with injuries nobody can see. PTSD is real - just as real as a lost leg or arm. It is invisible and people have less sympathy and empathy for those that suffer. So many do!
In my father’s time, at least he came back to a country where everyone had lived the reality of war. Everyone had lost a loved one and in fact he was one of the very lucky ones that made it back. So many young men perished not even knowing what they were fighting for and why. All they wanted was to go home. If they tried, they got shot for deserting. A no solution situation. They had to stay and hope for the best.
My dad’s brother was 18 when he was killed in Russia. My brother is keeping up a correspondence with a non-profit group that has been finding where the soldiers that never returned have been buried. There was a discussion of bringing the remains “home.” I don’t see the point of that at all. But I am not a sentimental that thinks that graves hold the spirit of the people. Sure, they are places of history. We see names, we see how we wanted to be remembered in certain times. We also see segregation and intolerance.
Those of a different faith and/or color had to be buried somewhere else. The poor end up in mass graves without any stones or markers to remember them since it is not a new thing that we value only those that are wealthy.
Oops, need to step away from that topic right now since my heart is growing heavy just thinking about it and it is Sunday morning and I have lots to do this day. I want this to be a happy day for me. I slept well. I have the house to myself with only two dogs as company. Well, there are the chickens but they aren’t in the house and they can wait a little before I open their door to let them out into their larger run.
I do have a bunch of ants that keep coming into the bathroom. But I don’t want to think about them right now - and they will come back onto this pages since they are on my mind as well.
Back to happier thoughts like me not knowing what month it is. Oh, happy days!!
Maybe, just maybe (hah, I know it is the truth but I am not telling) I have been stretching myself a bit too thin. And that sentence made me love. Sine I haven’t been stretching enough and my body really needs it and the general tendency of my body has been moving into the opposite direction of thin. And now, I really want to put an emoji.
But, would that be proper if this ever becomes anything but a blog post? And a casual blog post at that. Not one of the serious blogs that leave you with some deep thoughts (or boredom) written by very serious people we all have to take very seriously.
No, an emoji blog is written by somebody that really doesn’t have much to say and is considered and airhead.
But is that true?
Not is my book. As much as my former English Professor hated emojis, I have started to love those little things. Isn’t it us going back to our roots? Before we had the written language, people could tell each other stories by leaving drawings on rocks and such - that is the ones we know about. For all we know, the story tellers drew in the sand to illustrate their stories, make them even more real. But of course, we wouldn’t know because we only know about things that were able to survive the destruction of time, the elements, and mostly people.
Emojis can say things with this little symbol that words alone can’t. If I write something, how do you know if I am serious or if I am joking if I don’t give you the little hint of the smiley face. Wars have started because we misinterpreted something someone had said. Little wars between neighbors and big wars between nations.
A smilie face could have saved us from doing so many stupid things. Well, maybe not since humankind seems to insist on doing stupid things. Like me not doing Yoga every morning even though my body certainly needs it. And I know that. And I am a Yoga teacher and know who to do it. And, I have countless Yoga tapes I could follow in case my brain does not function (see wrong date rant above)
But do I do it?
No - at least not every morning.
But back to the emojis. Did you know that they have gotten an entry into some dictionaries now? Yup, the language has evolved and now, it is official. Emojis are recognized and I can use them. Hahaha.
Enough already!! Smilies, emojis. Let’s get on with more serious business.
Like how come dogs get the urge to run at a certain time of the day?
Miss BB, the over-bread and mostly lazy little Pomeranian likes to spend her days in the coat closet. We call it her room now. Yes, people. We are the kind of folks where the dog has her very own room!! It is furnished with all kinds of jackets hanging up, a shoe rack, a few boxes of storage items, the picnic basket, hiking back-bags and whatever else we were able to stuff in it. And her little bed. A luxury edition with memory foam and such I bought in an moment of insanity for about $ 20.00 to replace the old towels she used to sleep on.
She mostly likes it to hide behind it and once in a while, she found it also a good place to throw up in. It is washable, but I have to say, the towels were easier to wash. (And here, it would be such a good place for a laughing face emoji. But have I evolved enough to let go of any and all expectations a NaNoWriMo writing attempt brings with it? I already let go of trying to make any sense or even remotely trying to produce a novel - a piece of fiction - something entertaining and have committed myself to hours and hours of thoughts vomiting on the page - of just writing to see if there is a voice coming out of it - or if there is a coherent thought forming- a topic calling me to explore it in depth. Ha. But have I sunk low enough to actually use the emoji? Only time will tell!)
(And now, I am getting majorly distracted by crows stealing my pecans and landing on the neighbors chimney. They are trying something over there. Banging away on the metal piece that is covering the chimney. Maybe they dropped a pecan into it? Now, my neighbors might get a harvest of nuts I will never see. There are four of them and they are loud!! The animals around me have a conspiracy going to keep me from writing!! First, the dogs doing their crazy dance and now, the crowns calling in all their friends and raiding my tree. Who, I ask you, needs television if there is so much drama unfolding in your own back yard. Speaking of drama. I am looking at a squash blossom on the top of a tree. I so wished I had a better camera to be able to catch that!! One of my amazing Chilachayote squashes, the squash with a desire to take over the world, has made its way all the way up into the tree and the flower is sending a signal - probably to outer space where we know that aliens are just waiting to take over the world - notice, world, since we think that the planet we live on equals world (great need for an emoji right here)
. I am sure the flower is a signal to them that it is time to invade!! Donald, quick, build a wall to outer space to protect us!! We so need it!!! (Oh, oh, oh. Emoji!!! I need you so bad right now! So sorry dear English professor that I have fallen so deeply and don’t have words anymore to express my meaning clearly. ([And another emoji is needed here]).
Back to where this rant begun. The dogs, that is one of them running like crazy around the yard and that leads us back to Miss BB who just retired to her room. Too much daylight does not befit her little vampire self. She love to stay and hide in the closet and only come out for food - that is her number one reason and only, if it is good food. Treats, or at least coconut oil or chicken broth added to her kibbles. She will stay out of her closet for extended periods of time if there is even the faintest smell of a roasted chicken in the air. That gets her little mouth quivering and all her attention is focused. No move goes undetected and even the smallest morsel falling down will be annihilated in a second.
This little chicken loving vampire dog gets her witching hour around 8 pm. Suddenly, she is out of the closet, jumps up - preferably on the lap of a person sitting there, and demands attention. She jumps from one to the next, races through the room and is an all around pain in the behind until the urge has passed and back into the closet she goes. Maybe she is one of those wind up toys that go crazy and stop when discharged. There probably is a little alien sitting in the closet winding your up at the stroke of the hour - as if we had a chiming clock. I think they are part of a history we are rapidly forgetting as well.
Gia, the visiting dog, gets her crazy hour in the morning. It is kind of fun to see glimpses of her racing through the garden wilderness. I wished she were a hunter and chase some of the rats and such who also like our garden wilderness. They are the type of wildlife I rather don’t see around - or their evidence.
My goal for today is to write at least 3000 words. A somewhat arbitrary goal but it will bring me up to snuff with the NaNoWriMo numbers, actually, maybe a little ahead. This is the spirit of NaNo - we are doing it because there is the looming deadline and without, we just tend to procrastinate.
I guess when we were hunters and gathers, the looming deadline was the beginning of winter, or that the animals that could be hunted are moving on and going somewhere else. But that might be totally off. If we assume that we all started out somewhat in Africa where food was in abundance at all times, then there was no such thing as procrastination. We could get up whenever we wanted and find something to quench our thirst, be it water or juicy fruit, and also something to eat.
Maybe that is where the whole myth of being thrown out of paradise is coming from. We all used to be there. Food, warmth, good company. Life was good. Then, something happened. Let’s throw the idea of an ice age showing up out of the blue to the side for a bit - even though that is the most likely explanation for radical movements of living beings.
Let’s go with the idea that a hunter got it in his head that he needed to hunt a certain animal. Only, there was a problem. That animal was way smarter than he was and kept eluding our hunter. And it was smart enough to know that if the hunter could buddy up on it with the rest of the tribe, they might be successful. So off went out smart animal, away from where everyone was hanging out, eating and drinking all that was so easily in front of them.
Our hunter, for some reason nobody could and can figure out, had a very smart woman who was deeply in love with him. She liked him so much that she decided to follow him since he didn’t return that night from his hunt.
Yup, people, even very smart women do sometime rather stupid things when love is involved.
The animal kept being smart, and our hunter kept following the animal. Our smart woman followed the hunter and learned all kinds of things about her new surroundings. Which herbs are good to eat, which ones might come in handy if there is a problem, new fruits and roots, nuts and berries to try. She kept them alive and well fed while the hunter kept running after that smart animal he so badly wanted to kill.
Before they knew it, they were far far from where they had come from and it had been long enough that a little baby showed up to be part of the hunting party. All parents know that one baby changes things, but one baby can still be put on the back and onwards we go.
They kept on going, following the animal that kept coming by at night to make sure that all was well with the curious three beings that kept following in its path.
Whenever it came by, the woman saw it in her dreams and it kept telling her that it really was better to stay where they were since further on, the land was going to change and it was cold there. They had such a thing we now call winter.
The smart woman tried to tell her hunter husband that it was time to give up the hunt. But he wanted, no, he thought he needed to go on. He only was able to find success if he could kill that animal.
She followed him but made sure to keep collecting way more than they needed and figured out a way to keep it from rotting to eat later. Soon, she couldn’t carry the baby and the food anymore and the man had to carry some of it. That made him feel strong. He thought that surely he must be better than her because he could carry more. She let him think that because it made him happy and for a short while, he was much more like the man she had first met and given her love to.
Along they went and before she knew it, another baby joined the family.
The day the baby was born, the animal visited her dream again and told her that they needed to stay where they were and find a way to protect themselves from the cold winds and a white substance we call now snow that was going to meet with them very soon.
She had learned that her hunter man did not want to hear about her dreams. She had told him one and then, it happened as in her story and that was very scary to him.
But she knew that he liked to feel strong. She pretended to be weak from having had the baby and that she needed to rest. She also told hime that she couldn’t survive without him and that he needed to stay with her for a while. Just until she felt strong enough to follow him again following the animal.
Every day, she asked him for a little bit to put here, and to put there. So it came to pass that when that white substance came dancing on the icy winds, they had a nice little shelter and they were warm and cozy.
Thanks to her harvesting much more than they could eat every day, they also had plenty of food until the first green leaves showed themselves again.
By now, the man was tired of running after the animal and they were so far away from where they came from that he didn’t think that they could make their way back. It was too hard!!
During the long dark winters, they told their children about the paradise they had left behind. The place where the sun was shining, food was always available and nobody had to work very much to build a shelter or to find and prepare food for the winter.
Paradise was lost to them and somehow, the woman got blamed for it.
And now, you know how we lost paradise.
Since I have forbidden myself for now to insert emojis into this texts, if you are a man and you feel a bit irritated by this - just remember that smart men do exist and I am sure you are one of them since you are reading this very long rant. Or are you?
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