The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Skinless Chicken and Other Grievances.

Everything is probably going to cause some kind of itch today.

I asked M. to please turn the news off. It's depressing me, making my stomach stretch and tighten under the skin and fat. It hurts, I tell him, my stomach actually hurts because of it. I don't know what's real, what's worth losing my good humour over. The jackals with ridiculously contrived names (Wolf, Stone etc.) are working to cause hysteria. It's in their contract, I think. Stupid name change and mass hysteria. Give us your soul, we'll give you air time.

But, it isn't right to lay a finger of blame on them. They're the messengers; spackled and bronzed, wardrobed and coiffed. They're paid to make small talk in between the bleeding leads. They're not paid to muse about solutions.

My sister called me this morning, sounding a little manic. Her children were buzzing in the background, leaping from chair to chair, one of them disrobing entirely. I could hear Shamus shrieking with excitement from a corner of the room, probably where the Christmas tree is innocently standing (yesterday, it was decked with snowboots when my sister shifted her focus in order to throw up in peace. Stomach flu, she thinks.)

'Should I be worried that he's standing there naked, holding his 'weiner', asking where his lipstick is?', she asked wearily.

I could only laugh and shake my head. That's Shamus, folks. He's adorably mental, and a bit of an exhibitionist.

She went on about always feeling ill, throwing up without notice (not pregnant, husband dutifully had some adjustments made on his person when the second child was birthed), battling a headache while trying to maintain some semblance of order. She mentioned the latest local headline, the one where the estranged father went to where his son was living (friends of the child's mother took him in when his mother died of cancer a few months ago), and went after everyone in the house with a knife (because he was crazy, because everyone knew it and wouldn't let him take the child with him). He managed to kill the young wife and her three-year-old child, critically wound the husband and mortify the other children, including his own, who stood by, helpless. If we didn't have strict gun laws here, he would have wiped out the whole family. Fortunately, the police arrived and killed him. I never feel badly for a dangerous person when they're extinguished. It doesn't erase the carnage, but it takes away the potential for more.

I feel...like everything is off balance. The government has gone crazy, people are going crazy, there is literally fear everywhere. What will happen next? She sounded like I feel on any given day, so I recognized the careful control, the cracks in the dam wall. She said that she feels like hiding, like crawling into bed and sleeping it away, but she knows it's not an option.

I told her I know how she feels, that I've been feeling especially nervous recently, but that I've had a year to get accustomed to the fear. I lost my job earlier on than most, I knew that the tough times were coming. This is kind of a natural thing, this econonomic slowdown. We've been doing okay since the end of WWII, and there have only been minor setbacks until now. Myself, having grown up in a world of the occasional economic hiccup, I'm accustomed to rampant uncertainty. She should be too. Our father went from extreme success to extreme loss in a matter of a few years and we've lived in huge houses with nice furniture and well-stocked kitchens, to losing everything. You don't get used to it, though. You look around and see the others who have stability and you always want what they're having.

Everyone's feeling that way, I sighed. Don't let yourself feel too overwhelmed, though. Try to focus on what is working, what makes you feel good.

I think she wanted to roll her eyes, but desperation has a funny way of making a person listen to anything which might provide an escape. I believe in it, though, and I foresee a resurgence of spirituality in people. It will be all anyone can afford in the future: faith.

I don't want to lose anything I have, that's the truth of it. I have been so worried about finding a job that 'fits me', that I have essentially turned my back away from everything else. This may not have been smart, but it felt right at the time. I took a year to be with my child because I thought it was the right thing to do. Now, I'm feeling the pressure. I'm finding myself becoming petulant and angry when I can't buy something I want. I grow fierce if the wee one doesn't finish her dinner, because I am suddenly aware of how much skinless chicken costs. I am bitter about the fading colour in my clothes, the fact that we spent twenty dollars on new tree lights and BOTH boxes of lights(different colours, different areas of the shelf)only half worked! Made in China, of COURSE, but there were no other options. Everything, every conceivable decoration, ornament, light, star, angel or string of tinsel is made in bloody China! I popped a spoke when I only saw half red and white bulbs, the others lying dead on the floor, tethered to the living, like one Siamese twin attached to its dead sibling, unable to shine alone. M. fiddled with them, though, and managed to get them working. One careless stroke of the hand, though, and they blink before going dark again. I'm afraid to turn them off. Their beauty when lit is one of the few things which keeps me going.

My sister is feeling the pressure and her husband has a fairly secure, high-paying job. What about the rest of us? I thought this to myself, the inner me sneering at her knowing that she can spend whatever she wants, whenever. I love her, want her to be happy, but it's hard to see someone spend money so cavalierly and then moan about how disorganized things are. It's just the petulant child in me, though. If I were in her position, I'd likely be the same. We all would.

If I were someone who could accept a way of life where the bare minimum were all there was, I might be better off. I have never been okay with buying things I know will fall apart after a day or two. If I consider buying second-hand/vintage clothes, it's because they are in good shape and have a label on them I recognize. I don't go to flea markets because they are mostly just crap. Do I need to change now? Do we all have to prepare ourselves for spreading lard on bread?

I want to be happy this Christmas, for my daughter and for M. I don't want to hear all the blathering about it being a 'religious holiday' from those who choose to believe something different. Shut up, I don't care what you believe and I certainly wouldn't try to dissuade you from celebrating YOUR holidays. Shut the hell up, one more time for effect. I don't want to hear complaints about the rampant commercialism from people who bitch and moan, but who will still go out and spend too much and expect too much. I don't think Christmas was intended to be either of these things, initially. It is sort of widely known that Jesus' birthday was probably in the fall or spring, that Christmas was sort of designed to celebrate the onset of longer days, as in 'winter solstice'. Whatever the case, we made it different things, but it really just is a celebration and that's supposed to mean it's a good thing. A symbol is just a symbol, and it is a matter of interpretation. Why would it bother anyone to see a tree with lights on it if they don't believe in what it symbolizes? How does it hurt anyone for looking?

If I had my way, I'd insist that symbols of celebration were everywhere. No, not of things which symbolize harm to people, let's not get ridiculous. People like to be ridiculous these days, no? Like deliberately reading into innocent comments when you know damned well what was meant by them in the first place and making them bigger than they are. I digress. I mean that I'd love to see mennorahs blazing in windows, trees glowing in windows and yards, ramadan lanterns, people singing their carols, hymns or what have you. There is something good in celebration, and no one should say that it offends their delicate nature if there is no blood shed, if there is no infringement on personal rights. Get over it, already! Religion, and one's choice to follow it, is NOT a bad thing. What IS bad is people using it as a tool for personal gain or to achieve some unnecessary level of power. We all die, eventually, fate being a collective conclusion and while I've no proof of what happens 'after', I'm thinking that logic needs to take the reins on these matters occasionally. You don't criticize or desecrate someone else's symbol just because you're insecure about your own. Again, an almighty, most holy, shut the hell up.

So, I say it's time to find a way to be celebratory in spite of the madness. One thing I respect about the Indian people is their refusal to let the recent terrorist assault scare them. They're eating in restaurants with bullet holes in the walls and they're effectively issuing a great big 'F U' to the people who sought to intimidate them. No hiding, no withdrawal, just 'hey man, you were totally out of line and we'll get you eventually, but tonight I'm having my dinner in peace'. Oh, they're mad, absolutely, but there is no resignation in them. One has to admire the spirit.

I need to leave the anger out, though. I will not succeed in feeling any kind of happiness if I force it with rage. I know it. What I have done so far is I made my own bath salts last night. I intend to give them as gifts. I made the lavendar variety, and because I'm not into animal testing the cats were safe as I submerged into my own blend of flowers and serenity. It was magic, and I smelled lovely. I applaud myself, and tonight, I may make body sugar. The calm in creating is a wonderful thing, especially if it smells good and makes my skin soft.

I'm done ranting, now. Time to refuel.