rambling rosemarie

The smell of figs is like catnip to me. It makes me happy. One sniff and I am immediately transported to my grandmother's home in El Sobrante. She lived on the top of a small hill that had a view of the San Pablo Bay. I lived with my grandmother for several years after my parents split up. I can't tell you that it was a happy time which is odd since the smell of figs makes me happy. It's just part of the time that was mine and in the middle of my childhood chaos I found sanctuary in a fig tree. I was young and fairly self-sufficient from the very beginning and since Grandma was not the affectionate involved type, I had many hours of solitude. I liked to spend that time perched in one of her fig trees. There I could observe the world go through its motions and nobody noticed I was watching. They were completely oblivious to the running commentary in my inner monologue. I made mental notes on everything. For instance, I bet you didn't know you could sing all the s

I am so done with people feigning offense, trying to step on guilt glands or reacting with knee jerk responses to perceived political incorrectness I could scream. I know that conflicting opinions are difficult. When people champion causes that I think are inane, I try to lay out a reason for my opinion, respectfully. I try to listen to their arguments. Really listen, not just look for flaws. I am not always successful. Sometimes the fact that I think the person holding a different worldview is a booger-picking moron is obvious and that is to my shame. Occasionally unedifying and unsanctified thoughts actually give way to spoken words that slide off my tongue like they are rocket launched stupid-seeking missiles. I am not proud of myself when that happens. It's sinful. Today I read that Juan Williams, a commentator, was fired by NPR . His offense? Admitting that he fears being on a plane with people who identify themselves first and foremost as Muslims. Is it chilly in hel

Suffering. We all have some of it in our lives. Some of us get by with a sprinkling and others get dumped on. Most of try to avoid it at all costs by avoiding, denying or medicating it. A few of us are compelled to try to alleviate the suffering of others. Some twisted souls enjoy either receiving or causing it. Old, young, white, black, saved, reprobate, rich, poor, man, woman none of us are exempt. I can't help but think of Ophelia's mad scene and her distribution of flowers. "There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with a difference..." Shakespeare was using rue as it symbolized sorrow or regret. Each of us has particular sorrows and regrets. Ophelia's sorrows drove her mad. She allowed her suffering to overwhelm her. Poor thing, love gone awry, torn between family and the prince who toyed with her. I do understand it, but t

Recently I had a conversation with my friend and brother in the Lord, Mark, or johnMark as I know him best. Mark has a blog worth reading and you'll find it here . In our conversation we talked about writing styles and Mark complimented mine. We chatted a bit about writing and I realized that while he envies my wordsmithing, I envy his discipline and tenacity. Mark wants to be a better writer and he works at it. I wish my posts were read by more people and that more folks would comment on their content, but unlike Mark, I am not doing anything about it. So while our envy of one another is mutual, he has the more valuable and desirable skill. I have written before about discipline, or the "D" word. Discipline- dreaded but coveted discipline. I make halfhearted attempts at acquiring it but never get much further than the 'want to' part. If 'want to' isn't converted to action it's pretty useless. Discipline means you actually have to get up

For the last several days the media has fixated on Tyler Clementi's suicide. I am not going to link to any of the stories, if you haven't heard about it, Google his name and you'll find a plethora of links to click. It is a horrible thing when anyone chooses such a permanent solution to a temporary life problem. I am so sorry for the loss of this young man's life. And I am outraged that the focus of this tragedy is on his homosexuality. Violating any human being's right to be safe in their home, dorm room, public restroom, or store fitting room-etc. etc. by secretly recording, filming or live streaming their activities is wrong. Period. I don't care whether this young man was playing Parcheesi with a group of nuns and Buddhists; to have his activities streamed via web-cam for anyone's entertainment or curiosity is wrong. I get that having intimate moments viewed in this manner is much more damaging to the psyche. I really do, but I resent the fact