Island Tales

Some days I think I'd like to go back to civilization. And then suddenly, I am reminded of the brainless chittering that goes on in our consumerist society. Instead of going for what lasts, society prefers disposable. Disposable diapers, disposable "swiffers", disposable relationships, disposable sex.

And then, suddenly I prefer the quiet of my island. I have no desire to even have a romantic relationship. I think I no longer believe in love. Or at least, I think very few men out there prefer the non-disposable kind of love. I am dis-enchanted. I prefer to be single than to even try having some kind of relationship. I believe I am better off alone.

I had a husband once. He didn't make it to the island, he couldn't swim very well. He's gone on to a better place. I hope. Yes, I had a husband once. There is a time for everything, and for everything a place. I do not believe I am called to go back to that. I do not desire to sacrifice myself for someone who misunderstands me. I think few men would understand me now.

I had a child once. That I miss. There is nothing like holding your baby for the first time. There is nothing like teaching your child to pray, holding your child when he is tired, sick or hurt. There is nothing like looking apon the angelic face of your sleeping child.

But not even for the gift of holding a child again will I give up myself.

Beauty in the storm

It has been a long time since I have had anything to say. Sometimes, when things are going well, there just isn't anything to say. Didn't Tolstoy say something about all happy families being the same but all unhappy families being different? As in when you're happy, there is no story to tell, when you are unhappy, THEN there is a story to tell.

Life can be stormy sometimes, but there is something magic about a storm, something powerful. Huge storms hit my island, but that is what shapes it, makes it so rugged, so beautiful. There have been no major storms here recently, however, and I have been walking around my island quite a bit.

Imagine my surprise when I came across an old stone building. It had stone arches, and tiny narrow windows. It was surrounded by a courtyard, which, in turn, was surrounded by a stone wall. In the courtyard were what I presume were once vegetable gardens, and in one corner was an orchard. It has mostly gone to weed now. However many of the trees still bear fruit.

As I walked inside, I noticed religious symbols and images. This place was once a monastery! A cloistered one it seems, from the way it is set up. The roof of the chapel, unfortunately, has fallen in, but it remains a still calm place and one where the presence of God still seems palpable.

Somewhere, deep inside of me, part of me has always dreamed of being a cloistered nun. I know that God is in ordinary life as well, but imagine, to have no distractions! To be continually reminded of his presence, to continually pray in communion with others... it must be a taste of Heaven.

Guys you want to avoid...

Gypsy Queen, where do you come up with these guys anyway?

Poor Gypsy Queen came visiting recently and told me of her most recent encounter with the species known as hominus malus. Gypsy Queen has been renting a villa, which she no longer desires to rent. So it was up for lease by the owner. A couple came calling the other day, to visit the villa, and have decided to rent it. The husband came back a few days later for some technical reason, and Gypsy Queen and he got to talking. They were apparently having a good conversation, when the husband started complaining about the mentality in this place, how friends couldn't "love" each other and whatnot. Gypsy Queen could see where this was going, and wasn't very surprised when the husband proposed.

His proposition was that since Gypsy Queen and he were now friends, she should sacrifice herself so they could have sex together. Gypsy Queen had a different proposition. He could open the door and leave. That woman he was with? Wasn't really his girlfriend.

This is not the first time Gypsy Queen has run into males afflicted with this kind of logics deficiency. So we are wondering if she has become a magnet, pulling them in. It seems it is time for her to move, and find different circles, where humans of the opposite gender have some class and respect. I am hoping that the city where she has leased a different villa will treat her better. (Especially the male part of it.)

Prisonner

I am a prisonner. I do not always feel it, I often forget it, but the fact remains, no matter how beautiful it is, no matter how content I feel on certain days, no matter how accustumed I become to the situation, I live in a prison. Lived in a prison. Perhaps I still do. One would think this desert island to be more of a prison than living in society, but liberty is a relative concept. Society is a prison. It is those who are different who realize it. I am more free here on the small island where space is limited than many places I have been before.

Repression, I have felt. I have been the target of attacks. Here, on my island, there is neither.

Tag

Four Jobs
1. Cook
2. Head-lice inspector
3. Webmaster
4. Ship's mate

Four Movies I Would Watch Over and Over:
1. Swiss Robinson Family
2. Veggie Tales Jonah
3. Star Wars
4. Castaway

Four Places I Have Lived:
1. Luque, Paraguay
2. House boat
3. Canada
4. This deserted island

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch:
1. Don't get much TV out here...
2.
3.
4.

Websites I visit daily: (err, not daily, but whenever the wind is right and my satelite phone gets charged...)
1. Coucoumellisms
2. Two Sleepy Mothers (but I let Coucoumelle, AKA Jeanne, do all the commenting)
3.
4.

Fav Four Foods
1. lobster
2. macaroni salad
3. pina colada
4. fresh mango

Four Places I Would Rather Be:
1. back home in Canada
2. on the summit of a high mountain
3. Heaven
4. back on a boat

Four People I Am Tagging:
1. You
2. You
3. You
4. You

Map of the lost island

I have created a partial map of what I have explored so far on this island. I have not gone much farther than this, so I do not know what the other side of the island looks like, just enough to know that it is an island.

Stick-Paul

I went past the monkeys the other day and decided to explore a bit up above where the cliffs start to form again. I was walking through the trees, and suddenly came to where there was a circle of bare earth under the trees. It must have been a meter and a half in diameter or so, and no vegetation grew in it at all.

I thought that was a little strange and walked around the circle a bit and then stepped into it. I looked up through the tops of the trees at the blue sky overhead. Birds sang, insects hummed, a butterfly fluttered past. I stepped out of the circle and suddenly, I was no longer on my island.

Like a ghost stepping through a wall, in an instant I found myself in the presence of a black and white, two-dimensional stick man.

Stick-Paul comes from a two-dimensional universe and has been visiting our three-dimensional universe. Stick-Paul is a poet who has a way with words I can only envy and not hope to emulate. His manager is somewhat aloof, but actually quite sympathetic.

I realized that the circle of barren earth on my island must be a portal to Stick-Paul's universe. After reading a bit of Stick-Paul's poetry and something on travel between universes of different dimensions, I was pulled back through the portal onto my own island. This particular portal seems to have a time limit. I believe I shall go through again, some other time and visit some more