Incognito

How can I get off the grid when we live in a social media society? I've decided to take a step back and it's not just about shutting off my cellphone for a few days. Mistress Zoya is helping me take a different perspective to finding my inner self. The self that existed before family and friends bound me to roles I haven't been able to escape since they were assigned. Scape goat, black sheep, party friend, tenacious wife, etc. I introduce Plato's Mistress; Zoya:

How much can I avoid social media, really? I'm not doubting that it is possible, but how do I render these assigned roles? Am I brave enough to explore my past self and revisit what made me so  compliant? The old Monica loved being outdoors and so I, Zoya, am writing this post tucked away in a soft grassy spot on my front lawn. Lets hope my neighbors can chalk this up to being charming...

There Is No Future, There Is No Past

 I started writing this blog because I opened my bedroom blinds and discovered a tiny fluttering hummingbird just outside my window. The only other time I've seen a hummingbird was in Mexico City at my aunts 3rd story apartment. But even so, the stateside hummingbird seems more out of place here than in the 4th largest city in the world. Why come here? I don't have a feeder, my plants are nonexistent compared to my neighbors' yard of the month, AND it's raining. I've watched the rain from my bed twice this week. It's special rain. Not a ruin-my-hairdo, or cancel-softball-practice rain. This rain is falling around our house, which happens to be in the woods. But there is something magical about living in the woods. It's not just the gorgeous sunsets, dewy mornings, and eclectic wildlife. A person can breathe out here. Figuratively, since I'm sure no one has problems breathing in the suburbs. My mind is clear in the woods. There are no distractions. It's Earth, sky, and me. So simple, so swollen. And as the rain continues to fall I feel with any ounce of intuition I was born with, that my surroundings feel the same. The trees stand with integrity, the rain falls with purpose, the sun sets diligently and no outside force can interrupt them. Let me take a lesson from my visiting hummingbird (and quote RENT); There's only us, there's only this, forget regret or life is yours to miss...No other course. No other way. No day but today.

Expecto Patronum

     I've been seeing Mr. Houdini's shows for the past four years and I've never tired of the illusions, the spectacular mystery, or Mr. Houdini himself. Houdini is an artist, dare I say, enigmatic. His restricted affect intrigues me and I feel his cryptic hold on me. Houdini is nothing short of an underground wizard.
      It's been a year since I started shadowing Harry after each show. That first night I followed him to a lively cafe for an autograph and a moment in his presence. As he sat at a small round table with a crew of people, he accepted my request with a smile. Something I hadn't seen before in his shows. I spent the rest of the night across the street peering into the cafe window at the man I admired. Who was he off stage? I imagined him to be the kind of man I would be friends with.      
   And so I got to know things about Harry...private things. I knew where he'd be any day of the week, I knew his friends that he saw every Friday night, I watched him woo frequent women, I even knew which cologne he preferred. In the beginning it started as an innocent hobby, per se. I'd buy a ticket to his show, get there early and stay until the end. I would follow Harry as he left his private exit at the theater to attend champagne dances and lavish lounges. But somehow along the way, I got lost in the envy of his seemingly glamorous lifestyle. He ate at restaurants I didn't even know I should care about, and he wore suits I couldn't afford... Why did he deserve to be paramount and not me? 
   After months of coveting Mr. Houdini, my admiration turned into bitter resentment. My lust had transposed to a dark grudge. Tonight, I too would be an illusionist. I would make Harry Houdini disappear.

... Poor fellow didn't see it coming when I snuck up behind him and put a knife to his throat.

Bucket of Distaste

If people wanted you to write better of them, they should have behaved better.

"The first two hours of work always go by too quickly", Aaron thought to himself as he watched the clock turn minutes into seconds. In the past four years since he started working at Water Works, he had had little problems getting his work done. He had a good report with the customers, and the other employees admired his work ethic. But nothing is ever perfect, and in a few minutes, his imperfection would trample into the office and inhale anything positive within 100 yards. Her name was Marianne and she was a swine on the outside, but an ugly beast on the inside. She was disgustingly cynical and for the past four years, she had enjoyed denying Aaron of any joy. At work, Marianne was a gargoyle perched at her desk, ready to reprimand or condemn anyone elses' good job done. She was quick to castigate especially if she hadn't had a chance to say ten negative things before breakfast. 

   In the mornings, the office Aaron shared with Marianne was a tranquil hideout. He would confirm and schedule appointments, file invoices, and in his downtime he liked to read poetry. But the peace was disrupted every mid morning when the barbarian arrived. There was no mistaking her violent tread, it could be heard from the parking lot. Aaron braced himself. This wasn't a game. It wouldn't be easy. His once youthful soul would be excruciatingly violated for the next five hours as a victim of Marianne's extreme pessimism. She never shared a kind word or a smile, in fact, her presence caused grown men to cry. As Marianne entered the office and took her usual perch, the temperature dropped giving Aaron icy chills. What had been a bright potential day, now turned gray and hopeless. For the rest of the day she would sit at her desk spewing a life's worth of distaste into the air.

**TO BE CONTINUED** (Notice the time...)

Rational Recovery

     There is no void. Society has, without a fuss, slowly silently removed love. Evolution called on us to advance, hence love was replaced with logic. In logic, there's no room for feelings, or our interpretation of them. 

    The Germans say it started in hospitals. Families were asked to make tragic decisions about donating their deceased's' organs. They were called to let go of feelings for an empty vessel that both comforts and confuses. To make straightforward rational decisions, people abandoned the idea of family all together. It was easier to not create relationships of love then to lose them. It was a simple conclusion. One that has surprisingly lengthened the human life span. Healthy organs are donated almost 100% of the time, crimes of passion have substantially decreased, and suicide is practically non-existent. We are a more civilized society without the sloppiness of love hanging about. When we teach our children about love in history class, they laugh at the archaic traditions of weeping at funerals. We see love filled relationships as a burden. 

     At first there was a crowd that fought for a society filled with love. They believed in hurting for starving children, ill elderly, and lost love. They became second class citizens who couldn't keep up with progression and eventually they were washed out. 

     Sure the idea of love is a seductive fairy tale but it has been removed for a reason; reason.