I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

I borrowed this idea from two fellow bloggers--just a bit different question:

What's your idea of the perfect life?

For me--tough cal, but most definitely, it would be living somewhere where I'd never have to worry about losing my home again. Ideally, somewhere in the country, or in a small town somewhere, but...anywhere where I'd be finally able to lose the nightmare specter of homelessness, that'd be paradise, I reckon. The perfect life--have to have a pet (or two, or three) of course, and a job where, I'm not only actually wanted--but can use a bit of creativity, or, at the very least, be actually able to help, to be useful--really useful--to a person or people. I'd love to feel needed again. That would be nice. I'd like to have a set of wheels again--even if it's an old beat up pick up truck--so I can get around and see the sights. I'd like to have enough money to do a hobby-or two, buy a book or music or clothes once in a while, or see a movie or dine out, and maybe even enough visit other places, sometimes. I'd like to be able to visit my friends--or have them visit me, and be able to treat my nephew (that I only seem to ever see at funerals, nowadays) to a weekend of fun, someday. Of course, in the perfect life, I can always pay my bills and can buy any groceries I want.

But...that's all nonsense. I'm just being daft. It's good to be daft sometimes, ain't it tho'?

Sorry for the long pause between chapters, but as this story was unfinished, and I've been so tired, last few days, the past half-hour is really the first that I've felt well enough to do a bit of writing. Short chapter, not my best, but..best I could do in 20 minutes or so.

Doctor Who: The Run for Rose

CHAPTER 11: Abracadabra

Jane pulled Rose behind her, but the she surged forward again, trying to brush past Jane to get to the Doctor, yelling, “What are you doing? I need to get in there!” Jane turned to her, “Don’t be ridiculous, Rose! Do you think the Doctor went to all the trouble to find you, just so you could get blown up in some stupid accident? Do what he told you, stay back!”

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed with deep anger. “Never! If you think I’d let you use my Tardis to murder millions of innocent people, you’ve another think coming!” The Doctor’s enemy chuckled. “Very well, then, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable. And watch the slaughter begin--starting with your Rose, here.” So saying, his finger tightened on the trigger. “No!” Cried the Doctor and Rose simultaneously.

Days like today, make one long for a lakeside cottage, or a swimming pool. I miss living in the country--especially in Lake Luzerne. You didn't have to wait for the beach to open, to go for a swim in the lake. And believe me, day like today--and most especially, tomorrow--I would be in there. Mind you, I don't really swim--more like just paddle around on my back, but...it's cool and relaxing--who cares if the water is 60 degrees (16 C)? Heck, that's no big deal, especially in a like, where's one can always paddle from a cold spot to a warm spot (spring fed lakes are like that).

I guess one of my dearest wishes, would be to live on one of the year-round camps. That would be just the greatest thing, I suppose. Lucky people. Mum and I lived in a very large caravan, a mile from the beach, in a less-than-desireable trailer park. But...still, I was in the country, so I never minded. (Except when the rednecks moved in with their dirt bikes--yuck!--besides the bad exhaust fumes, the noise was just...a nightmare. you couldn't go outside, for the dust, noise and pollution--they'd race through the dirt road out back, back and forth, for three or four hours, non-stop, come summer. Grrrrr!

LAKE LUZERNE VIEWS:

Lake Luzerne has two public beaches, one on the state highway, and one back off a side street. The one off the side street is nice, on July and August afternoons--at a certain time, as there's a music camp across from the public beach, and you can hear them practice-- live chamber music drifting across the waters, as you float about. It's really cool...I mean, if you're like me, and like that sort of thing. Very, very calming and relaxing.

There is a public beach as well, on the Hudson river--small and stony, but very private. Across the way from the Luzerne river beach, is the public beach for the small mill town of Corinth, which is nice--there's a small park, and the Fireman's Field (where the town's carnivals, festivals and volunteer fireman's field days are held) as well. There used to be an ice cream stand across from the Corinth beach, but now it's been turned into a Subway sandwich shop. Too bad--but, the ice cream stand's food was overpriced rubbish, so that was no huge loss, but it was nice going for an ice cream after a swim. Corinth has a beautiful park as well, with the unlikely name of Pagenstecker Park.

VIEW FROM THE PARK, OF PALMER FALLS DAM

The park was given to the village by International Paper (who's mill was the main employer for the area from the late 1800's until around 1999). Now the mill stands mostly empty, sadly. But the park remains--high on an escarpment of the Hudson River, overlooking the Palmer Falls dam..the park contains some of the very last "old-growth" pines in the entire southern Adirondack park. (The Adirondack state park is 40 million acres). I used to live next to the park, and when the dam was running--especially after a heavy rain, I could hear the roar of the falls at night, through the upstairs windows of my apartment. It was great. There's three dams on the Hudson in the Corinth area: Palmer Falls, I can't remember the middle one's name, and the huge Spier Falls dam, built by hand, at the turn of the 20th century, by mostly Italian, Polish and Irish laborers.

Here's a link showing a photo of the former mill superintendant's residence--it was across the street from my apartment building in Corinth--where I lived from '95 to 2001. The house has been a private home/business for years. First, it was a resturant, now it's a combination antique store and real estate agents.

http://www.grandmasrealty.net/images/corinth/house.JPG

THE HUDSON RIVER LOOKING NORTHWEST, TOWARDS LAKE LUZERNE, FROM THE CORINTH BRIDGE. THEY SHOOT FIREWORKS OFF THIS BRIDGE, FOR THE JULY INDEPENDENCE DAY CELEBRATION.

THE ABANDONED CORINTH RAIL STATION

This weekend unofficially kicks off the summer vacation (holiday) season, in my neck 'O the woods. Oh goody! Tourist season!

"Where's my shotgun, Mable? I'm gonna' bag me a big hairy Italian from Brooklyn this year! And them I'm gonna' get one'a them New Jersey freaks, when they're in the middle of some stupid pose with a gorilla statue."

Hmm--so now someone's given me an idea for a new post--David Tennant's fashion sense--or lack thereof.

Okay, here's his "Think I'll dress like a derelict in an alley" look:

I admit, I'm no fashion bug myself--but the huge gaping difference is, I'm POOR, as in on average, I can only afford to get a haircut about twice a year, and MAYBE shop for clothes once, if at all. I'm told Tennant makes the equivilent of 2 million dollars a year, for pity's sake! This is the best he can do?

Okay, moving on, the disco look. What's with that? Is the 1970's groovy polyester look back in over there? Wow, man. Keep it over there, ey?

And again, fangirls--this is a fun thread--I like Mr Tennant's acting, really I do, and I'm sure he's just a really swell guy--but, honestly...the man needs a fashion course...and a good hair comb.

So, for anyone who doesn't already know that my country is a morally uptight, narrow-minded, deliberately stupid, backward-moving nation, here's this news tidbit:

WASHINGTON - Gay men remain banned for life from donating blood, the government said Wednesday, leaving in place — for now — a 1983 prohibition meant to prevent the spread of
HIV through transfusions.

Critics of the exclusionary policy said it bars potential healthy donors, despite the increasing need for donated blood, and discriminates against gays. The FDA recognized the policy defers many healthy donors but rejected the suggestion it's discriminatory.

Well, my day is starting off wonderfully. Came out from the bedroom to the kitchen--and there's a little brown bat--presumably dead (I hope) lying in the middle of my kitchen floor, AND, I have a claim notice in my e-mail box from VSAC (my Vermont student loan company)--the bastards. I made three payments to them, NONE of which they EVER credited to my account, and now they are suing me?

And one wonders about that last post? Right. Ain't life swell?

Oh, and dead bats don't bother me, it's just that Flame had only just finished licking my face and hands--THAT bothers me! Of course, there's also the worry of if the dead bat was diseased, as well, and if it was, did the cats catch it? So, it's swept up and tossed out the open window, on to the side lawn--wasn't going to stick it in the rubbish, as it's smelly enough in there, without putrefying bat, thanks. No.

WARNING TO READERS: THIS IS NOT A "HAPPY" POST. SKIP THIS IF YOU NEED TO.

I've been trying to keep my head up, of late, treading the deep and murky waters of life...but sometimes, I'm sorry, but sometimes I ask myself: "Is it worth it?" Is it? I don't know. Sometimes it seems all my life is ever going to be, is just one bad after another bad after another--with only brief respites in between.

It really is like being lost and alone in a storm-tossed sea, trying to keep the saltwater out of your lungs, and the sharks from taking nibbles out of you. That's what living, being alive, really is like for me. And God, if you can hear me, I'm just so tired. I'm so very tired.

The person sitting here, writing this, is just a shell of the person she was. A lot of it is merely window dressing, for the masses--because, human nature being what it is, no one wants to hear about pain or sorrow. They don't want to read it or see it, either. They want happiness and light--which is normal. But I'm not happy--I'm scared. I am really, really scared. Because I'm not sure there is a future out there for me. I am old before my time--hair going gray, tired, careworn--and now, with this permanent injury to my foot--I very much even walk like an old, old woman. I no longer stride along, but just hobble along by inches...there is no stride, anymore. Even if I could go back to the country, my hiking days are pretty much done.

And then there's my shaky finances. I'm always going to live in poverty. I gave it a shot--kept trying and trying and trying. College, over 600 job applications--no use. I'm rubbish, no one wants me, no one ever will---well, yeah, for remedial labour, I am wanted. Just a living beast of burden, a minimum-wage slave, nothing more.

Thing is, there's just not a helluva lot of "try" left in me, any longer. Pretty much, if I die of a heart attack next week, or get run over by a truck tomorrow--so what? It'd be a blessing. Not that I'm going to walk in front of a truck, or go out and eat massive amounts of Big Mac's. But, to be honest, truly honest, I would love some peace, some rest from this life...even if I had to die to get it. That's how I REALLY feel, okay?

I live every single minute, in the knowledge that I will never have a secure (as in not lose it) home again, a family, a "normal" existence, a good job. I have to wake up to that knowledge, and go to bed with it--and sometimes, I just sit here in my chair at night, and quietly cry.

I went to church, a few weeks ago--sat on the bench, back of the sanctuary, and felt...nothing. I listened, I sang (sort of)...I felt, empty, lost. A stranger in God's house, that didn't quite belong there. Well, I've lost faith in myself, my future, in hope, a large chunk of humanity (sans my friends, of course)...now I realize, that I've lost much of my faith in God, as well. It makes me sad.

It reminds me of the very last time, I walked the woods and fields of my home. It was a dreary, soggy November day. Everything was packed on the truck, and I went out to my woods for that last walk...strolled through the fields, over the pine-needle covered road that lead through the little grove of white pine trees behind our home...and I felt--nothing. Nothing at all. It was the oddest sensation. And years later, I one day realized why that was: I'd never NOT felt something--in my heart and spirit and soul--when I was out there. I'd always, always, felt the stirrings of joy, of being centred out there.

But, that last walk--it's like when I left that place, something inside me, died. I walked that last time, and suddenly, my woods--were just...woods. Just trees and rain and gray sky, nothing more, totally without meaning. Is that my life, now? Just rain and gray sky and dripping, barren trees? Nothing more?