Approach of the morrow

 Yup. It is nearly that time again. By this time tomorrow, I will have had my first day back to work. How did I spend this, my last day of vacation? Library trip and a bit of shopping. Pretty much the same way I've spent most of these summer days. I spent part of the day reading 'Heartstopper 6' and 'The scarlet letter'. These books have nowt in common, by the by.

 Reading the former because I want to make sure it's appropriate for the library. Reading the latter because the last time I read it, I was just starting into my double-digits. Guaranteed, I was far too young to understand it; let alone appreciate it. Our family has a gorgeously-illustrated edition. At least, I hope my sister decided to keep it. Unfortunately, I do not have room for it on my shelves.

 Anyway, it's been a pretty quick read (The scarlet letter). I should be ready to bring it back later this week. Making progress in other things as well. Finally had a meeting with a lawyer to get my will done. One day, certain charities will be pleased with me. Anyway, I hope my few followers are pleased with their lives thus far.

BYE.

Sad Day

 Mi gato sobrino has crossed the Rainbow Bridge. He had been ill for a while. Mi hermana was inconsolable yesterday. Took a walk around the mall today just to get out of the house. Most of the kitty paraphenalia has disappeared. We had lunch, chatted a bunch, took in the changes at the mall. I haven't seen the place since 2024.

 Back to work tomorrow. Six weeks to go. Mi hermana and I discussed the benefits of NOT having a cat. Do these benefits outweigh the lasting loss? One day, it will be my cat's turn to cross that bridge. My turn to be inconsolable. Hopefully, that day does not come for a while. Time will do its thing.

 That is all for now.

BYE. 

Reminder

 August 29th of last year. The day the saga began. The Mom saga is in its final stage. This has been a rough year for mi hermana and I. But the end is in sight. Back to work in a little over a week. I've been spoiling mi gata summat fierce this summer. She'll sleep while I'm at work. It's fine.

 My exploration into non-alcoholic beer has been an interesting one. I tried a delightful sour beer from BSA yesterday. I cannot say for sure if it's better than 1664 Blanc but man, it's close. Tart and refreshing. And not too pricey either. Compared to other beers, I mean. I don't know how much longer this exploration will last. I'm sure I'll move on over the winter months.

  Hoping my two readers are doing well. It's been a decent summer.

BYE.

Now I'm sad

 We've been getting decent rain, I finally started reading 'Earth unaware', and generally enjoying my Tuesday. Then I learn through the Mare's Nest that Ozzy Osbourne has left for the big party in the sky. To quote the post title, now I'm sad. Was not a fan of the man but I respected his will and skill. Then I learned he was only 76. Then I really was sad.

  Not surprising when you consider the ride he put his body through. Man lived like that - miracle he made it to 75. Being 45, I know that 75 is respectable... not super old. 95 is within the hallowed halls of age. Anyway, the road to Wallace Lake is closed until August 31. The wildfires are not going away. That's why we dearly need the rain.

  So... that's all I wanted to say. Rest well, thou maddest king of rock.

BYE.

Dear mother the struggle is over now

 I've had that little-known Carly Simon song on my mind for the past few days. The funeral was yesterday. We'd chosen songs to play for the service. As soon as Arden's 'Good mother' swelled the waterworks started. As I read the eulogy at Dad's funeral, my sister read yesterday. My brother-in-law's family have been wonderful over this past month.

  My xtended family? Well, I'm going to quote ageless advice. "If you don't have owt nice to say, say nowt." My sister and I are drained as heck from yesterday. It was glorious outside yesterday and gloomy today. Here cometh the end of April. I continue to practice and work on minha Portugues. Duolingo is pretty good. I shut off notifications so the damn owl leaves me alone.

  Here cometh Monday. I hope my few readers are doing well.

BYE.

Not the most restful...

 While I would have liked another week off, I'm glad to be back at work. Meetings, calls... not much time left to rest and relax. The meetings will continue for a while. It's just the nature of the beast. Grimmie left much in its wake.

 I rage quit out of Duolingo this morning. Now I'm gonna make that damn owl sweat for a bit. On the literary front, I'm enjoying Garry J. Shaw's "The Egyptian myths". Well-trod ground but not entirely. Nice blast from my ancient past. Hail to Wednesday, ye awesome folks.

BYE.

Gears and cogs

 So many phone calls to make after someone dies. All the stuff that needs to be cancelled. All the meetings we need to have. Spring Break is a blessing in disguise. I received flowers. They don't like being watered. 

  Meanwhile, InZOI launched the other day. Even if the game proves to be a huge success, I'm going to wait until I get a new desktop compy before I buy it. Beside that, I have nothing new. An overcast day and wet roads. Went for a drive. I avoid driving on the perimetre if I can. I did it today. Not fun.

  What am doing tomorrow? Phone calls, meetings to arrange. The party's only just begun.

BYE.

Au revoir, ma maman

 She died on the 27th. Not long after I posted the previous entry, the hospice called. I got there as soon as I could. This saga has had many surreal moments. Spending time with my mother after she passed was (probably) the final moment. The staff at Grace Hospice are caring and attentive; not just to the residents but to their families as well.

  So... yeah. Now mi hermana and I have the celebration of life to plan out. Lots of details in the process of life after someone has died. We met yesterday with someone who has been through this process and they gave us plenty of answers. Yeah... lots of phone calls and meetings ahead still.

  I won't lie. This past 7 months has been heartbreaking and difficult. How can we not feel anything but relief? What I am having a hard tme with is the outpouring of sympathy and offers to help from people who refused to give a damn about our feelings (or our mother's) while we struggled through this odyessy of grief. You offer to help and listen to us now? Where the plumbob were you several months ago?

  Anyway, I'm a little on the infuriated side with some people. Of course, these 'offers' may turn disastrous if accepted. Mom had a plan for her funeral and my sister and I are carrying out her plan; not theirs. Apologies for this very long entry. Been a while since I posted a long piece, eh?

  Besides that, life is okay. I hope you, my two or three followers, are doing well. At least it's Spring Break. Plenty of time to relax and stuff.

BYE. 

I was mean one day

 So a Sim was working on a metal sculpture. Then a spark from the torch ignited and I decided to be mean.

  The wild thing about this? She was hydrophobic in life. Now, as a ghost, she flips out before going into the shower.

  Life with sims. Hope everyone out there is doing well.

BYE.

Impressive

      I attended a celebration of life of my aunt's second husband. She was married once before, as was he. They met at a 'new beginnings' meeting and soon grew very close. He'd struggled with the savage Crab in the past and we all thought he'd beaten it but you know how tenacious cancer can be. It came back for a grudge match and this time it was the victor.

     Ernest Gautron's passion for life was matched only by his love for his boys and for my aunt. They married in 2016 but had been getting closer and closer since 2007. He relished new experiences and chased life with great zeal. I only talked to him on occasion and only during family gatherings. Luckily we had many of those. When he talked with you he gave you his full attention and you got the sense that he enjoyed talking with you. He was deeply spiritual and I'd like to think he got fast-tracked into Les Cieux as soon as he passed on.

     The celebration was well-attended; clearly this man had made deep impressions on so many others. His family graced the podium and told stories about his life. It was a lovely afternoon. I got to see many of my relatives - my memère having sent out the all-call to our extended family letting them know about the celebration. It's tragic that I only get to see the extendeds during weddings or funerals. Why is this the way it works?

     I call Ernest my aunt's second husband because I remember her first husband as my uncle. I am a little fuzzy on how divorce works in the uncle department but my childhood remembers him as my uncle. I preferred Ernest - let's be real there - but I just cannot call him uncle. Don't ask me why. Maybe a faulty wire somewhere in my head. Anyway, that was how I spent my afternoon. It was a beautiful day for a funeral - clear sky overhead and not too warm. The church parking lot was crazy packed but I managed to find a place to park.

     Three more weeks before the end of the school year. Sigh.


BYE.

The Creepy Side of Life

 Just passing through with a couple of pics that creeped me out or speak of death. These are all Sims-related.

 Ever wonder about that neighbour who just rubs you the wrong way?

Ever get that feeling that someone is watching you from a dark window?

Meanwhile, things are not going very well in the current family I'm playing. Poor Chad, fresh from his old job running the local Aleister's, decided to have a snack from the jelly bean bush.

Yeah, that went well, didn't it?

His ex-girlfriend Andrea pulled him out of Grimmie's grasp and put him to work cleaning cages.

Then Andrea found herself a Philosopher's Stone. Chad had some fun with it. Andrea got jealous and tried her hand.

Poor Andrea. Now only Chad and the birds remain.

I've had the jelly bean death before but the turned to gold death has never happened in my game. I was speechless for some time after it happened.

BYE.

 

Waterworks and Stuffs

      There was a time when I only cried at the occasional scene from the occasional movie. Today a group of 6s were in the library watching the Pixar/Disney animated film Coco (2017). I was fine until a particular part of the movie and suddenly them oculars were gushing. I don't want to spoil it for the two or three people who read my blog but the scene got me thinking about my Dad. This explains the waterworks, doesn't it?
      I wonder if I will ever get past that feeling of loss? Probably not. Any movie or show that makes me think of Dad has a chance of making my cry. Hard to believe that it has been a year and a bit since he passed. Elsewhere, Spring Break starts officially Monday but I am off starting today. I am reading a book from the Czech Republic which was translated into English. A pretty good book about... hmm. Hard to say what it is about but it is pretty good.
      So, that is about all for me. The next time I post it will be April or May.

BYE.

Au revoir

      The last time I had something very sad to report was when Dad died in September 2016. That was a sad, surreal time if I recall correctly. Today I have other sad news to report. My Pepère passed away around 2 this morning. He was 92 and one of the greatest grandfathers I have ever known. The other greatest one passed away in 2011.

     Pepère and Memère had five children and 9 grandchildren. This past year they welcomed their second great-grandchild into the family. For years they owned a cabin at Wallace Lake, which is nearly three hours northeast of Winnipeg. I remember endless summer days of swimming, lazing around, and long walks in the evening after supper. Memère turns 91 this February. They would have celebrated their 70th wedding anniversary this year.

     Pepère's brother had a cabin across the road and for years they went back and forth to play cards. I'd like to think Pepère is with his brother and other relatives playing cards right now. And fishing. Endless days on the lake with rod, reel, and minnows. That was where, I'd like to think, Pepère found his bliss.

92 is a long time but now it just doesn't seem like nearly enough.

Au revoir et merci, Pepere. Tu vas me manquer.

Hateful Crab!

        Not Sims-related in the least. Just me in the middle of a rage. As the two or three of you who check out this blog regularly know, I lost my Dad last September when the Crab came back for a second assault. It was officially a heart attack that took him but he'd stopped eating and was coughing a lot. The autopsy confirmed the presence of cancer in his liver and lungs. I know that cancer can come back more than once and that one is never truly safe and/or cured until they die of something completely unrelated to it. This was shocking and terrible, but not a total surprise.
       The Crab took away Alan Rickman, David Bowie, and many other wonderful people last year. I'm hoping it's just that it's been reported and announced more these days - otherwise it might seem like the number of cancer-related deaths is rising. There was a time when cancer was a dirty little secret and kept buried away in the family skeleton closet. Now there are more people surviving it because it's caught early enough for treatments to work. I'm still working through my feelings as far as Dad's passing goes. He's not here with us and he should be. It's called saudade from the Portuguese language (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saudade) and I'm neck-deep in it.
       Why am I yammering about this now? My grandma died from cancer as well - pancreatic; what took Bowie and Rickman away so quickly - and hearing about anyone dying from it saddens and angers me just a bit. It was seeing the following news that just caused me to explode a bit.

http://globalnews.ca/news/3252212/stewart-mclean-vinyl-cafe-dead/

       I love the 'Vinyl Cafe' books and admired Stuart McLean to no end. Losing him at the age of 68 hurts. As a result, I am sad and angry once again and just getting my rage on in here. Rest in Peace, honoured man. You shall never be forgotten in the Canadian heartlands and small towns. You shall be treasured and your books praised for many years to come.
      Okay. I am going to close this up before I need to break out the Kleenex.

Nothing is Absolute?

Warning! If you are burdened with darkness and looking for a way out PLEASE talk to someone! You are worthy of all the love and respect life has to give you and the good times will come back.

      Suicide is in the darker grey area of topics for discussion. Many religions consider it an abuse of free will and an insult to life and as a result suicides are considered to be outside the 'blessed places', if you will. Like everything, suicide is a decision that sows karma - in this case, of the negative version - that may very well likely send one down a few notches in the next life. No matter where you look, suicide for any reason is a bad decision. For a long time I considered this to be 100% truth, absolutely. Then I met Sydney Carton and my steel wall took a hit.
     Sydney Carton was a burned-out lawyer in Charles Dickens' England and France in the seminal 'A tale of two cities'. One of his few redeeming qualities, by his own evaluation, was that he was friends with Charles Darnay, whom he respected immensely. When Darnay fell afoul of the French Revolution and was ordered to spend time with Madame Guillotine, Carton saw his chance to save his friend's life and future and give himself a chance at karmic brownie points. With his final words, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." Sydney Carton goes to his destiny with a clear conscience and a contented heart.
     But this is a fictional character, one might insist. What else have I? It wasn't until recently that I started reading up on seppuku - the act wherein the samurai disembowels himself in a final act of sacrifice to honour his lord. This year I read Andrew Rankin's incredible book 'Seppuku: a history of samurai suicide'. The act of seppuku is ancient and far more elaborate than I expected. A very detailed account of a most gruesome way to die. When the samurai commits himself to dying he does it with all his mind, heart, and skill. There can be no doubts or second-guessing.
     Pretty similar to Mr. Carton's decision, isn't it? Of course I can't stop at just one book on even this very dark topic. Of late I've been reading about the kamikaze - Japan's desperate 'divine wind' that was to eradicate the U.S. aircraft carriers during WWII. I recommend Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney's 'Kamikaze diaries' and Maxwell Taylor Kennedy's 'Danger's hour' if you would like to read up on it a bit. The latter inspired me to write this post. Not the same situation as the samurais were in. Unlike them, the kamikaze were young men ordered to destroy themselves and their planes as a way to take some of the U.S. soldiers with them. Based on the recovered diaries from some of these pilots not all of them went to their deaths with a completely clear conscience. Nevertheless, they carried out their missions and the emperor was obeyed. All for nothing.
     These books I recently read slammed against my steel wall of absolutes even harder. Suicide is still a bad decision but if one goes to it with a completely clear mind and conscience, are the consequences lessened? Like most things involving the afterlife, we cannot really know. And what of soldiers who die in battle? They know they may have to make the ultimate sacrifice - just like the samurai and the kamikaze did years ago. It's a matter of perspective, I guess. Meanwhile, my journey of exploration will most likely continue. This is an unfinished and completely unpolished conversation.

    I hope to have some more Sims stuff for you but not for a bit. If I don't post anything else until the new year, have a wonderful Xmas.

Delightful imagery and depraved savagery

That is Marlowe's 'Tamburlaine' in a nutshell. I so badly wanted him to be struck down, either by one of his equally terrible allies or by one of the opposing kings or soldiers. That's not Marlowe's game, but I knew that ahead of time. It still bugged me. Anyway, I got through 'Tamburlaine' and am now studying what the critics of the early 1900's thought of him. Tamburlaine reminds me of another depraved ruler in a similar time, and if you will forgive me, I am going to connect this fellow to 'Mahabharat'. King Kansa of Mathura wasn't actually in the 'Mahabharata', but the Chopras thought he would make a great addition to their massive saga story. Kansa was Krishna's monstrous uncle whose death was prophesied on the day Kansa's sister married his closest friend. It was foretold that Devaki would give birth to eight sons, and the eighth son would return to kill Kansa one day. Kansa quickly locked his sister and his friend up and proceeded to slaughter each child as it was born. Of course, Krishna escaped and went on to fulfill the sage's decree. Too bad such a death was not foretold of Tamburlaine. Okay, I'm done talking about 'The Mahabharata'. I seem to do that a lot. Back to 'Tamburlaine' and his unforgivable deeds.
Marlowe drew a variety of images from the dank tarn of his mind to craft a violent story that would rival the likes of Caligula, Herod the Great, or Ivan the Terrible. What's worse, his wife actually approved of what he was doing. His allies, dastardly kings themselves, were behind him all the way. I thought at first that they were just with him out of fear, and that when he met his end, they would turn against his successor. Maybe they would have, as Marlowe closed the story at Tamburlaine's passing. It takes a lot of charisma gone wrong to create such a legendary figure. Is Tamburlaine a man to be admired? His violent streak was not changed by his wife's passing, and surprisingly, I suspect she was the only one he ever really loved. She was greater than Helen, greater than Venus, and at her passing, he mourned bitterly before continuing his reign of terror. I guess it's better than some blood-thirsty fellows who would kill their entire family along with everyone else.
A scene from the saga got me thinking pretty hard. A rival king and queen are thrown into the dungeon. Rather than face an ignoble future, they commit suicide in one of the more horrible ways that I have ever heard of. It takes quite a bit of dedication to do what they did. And I had to wonder why they did it. Was it fear of being shamed? Maybe just cutting to the chase instead of languishing for months and years to come.  Hard to say. Anyway, that's what's been on my mind of late. Back to the critics I go. BYE.

Buoyant again

Not that I was down in the dumps before, but Spring Break officially starts now, and I've got a week of rest and relaxation ahead of me. I'm reading 'Mejda: the family and the early life of Paramahansa Yogananda' but I should have that done before I leave with the gals on Wednesday for Fargo. I should be either deep in stuff about the samurai or deep in Book 2 of the Raj Quartet. Sooner or later, I knew I'd find myself entrenched in matters spiritual of one form or another. This evening, while driving home from the family homestead, I ventured down familiar paths of constant impermanence and the perceptions of others. It's not a matter of what others think of you that counts (at least, it shouldn't matter once you've moved on), but how others have perceived you will determine how you're mourned.
Being mourned is inevitable, as no matter how terrible a person you were, someone is going to remember the good choices you made once and will mourn you based on those good choices. Saints have flaws and monsters have virtues, no matter what anyone else is going to say about it. Good cannot exist without evil, so everybody is going to be mourned. Even if nobody comes to your funeral, someone is going to mourn in their heart for you. Nobody is completely anonymous forever. By the way, I have no idea why I ventured down this path - I don't see myself as being morbid (paranoid, certainly), but anyone who reads this post might perceive me as such. Will that be among the things said at my funeral? 'She was introspective to the point of being morbid and self-deprecating to the point of non-existence'. I've heard of worse perceptions. I can live with that (not that I would care by then).
I was thinking today about what I would do if I had 5 seconds to live (thanks to this game) and I guess that's why I got to thinking about everything else. Games. Keep'em. Anyway, that's about all. BYE.

Purgatory

Deep thoughts about Sandow Birk's 'Purgatorio'. I didn't start with 'Inferno', but if it's anything like 'Purgatorio', I am going to be blown away a second time (and then, hopefully, a third time by 'Paradiso'). The translation to 20th Century English really clarifies the story for me, and livens up the characters. Birk took Dante's already awesome saga and has combined it with his own incredible talent. Eye-opening and breathtakingly inspiring. My knowledge of Purgatory has been poorly limited for some time, and I needed to read this book, if only to increase my knowledge. I like that there's a place like Purgatory. It's not permanent, like Hell or Heaven. It's a place where certain souls go to be purified before they reach Heaven. A chance to expiate bad karma before a final push to Heaven, so to speak.'
I used to feel that Purgatory was just invented to placate those who weren't killers, rapists, or criminals in general, but weren't saints either. Regular folks who've lost their way from time to time. The 'mountain' concept visualized by Dante is refreshingly appropriate. The mountain's summit is Eden, which also makes sense. That's where Humanity got started (according to the Book of Genesis), after all. I need to examine these concepts in deeper detail, but this book makes for a very good start. The matter of the Seven Deadly Sins is also looked at. I made some connections very quickly between the book and my own spiritual journey, and the speed at which I made these connections was scary.
Dante suggests (and Birk seems to agree) that everything is motivated by Love. Even the 7 were born of Love. Love badly manipulated, but Love all the same. I have come to understand that my Deadly Sin is Sloth. This I admit whole-heartedly, too. Sloth, according to Dante, is Love without Zeal. I agreed with this so fast it scared me. I've made more than a few notes in my journal about being without zeal. It's good not to be over-zealous, but there should be some passion in one's life, shouldn't there? In 'Purgatorio', the slothful in life run around their level of Purgatory, screaming out passionately about having zeal for God and crying out their sin to everyone who will listen. All activity, which is the direct opposite of indolence. This just makes sense.
There are other connections I made between this amazing book and my own life, but there isn't enough room here to share them. All I can say is that this book is really worth reading (not just once, but several times - I plan to read it several times). Also, read it while examining your own spiritual journey. I think you may make some connections. Anyway, that's my bit for today. BYE.

Transition

I view death as a transition - passage from one life to another. It's more or less a Buddhist view I have. I was doing some scribbling recently and I got to wondering about the 'realm between lives'. In Tibetan Buddhism, this is called bardo (please correct me if I'm wrong). In Christianity, there is the 'Gates of Heaven' and St. Peter judging everyone who approaches him seeking passage into Heaven. He then looks through the person's record (checks and balances) and decides whether or not they go to Heaven, to Hell, or to Purgatory (some people do not believe in the latter, and I'm not trying to convert anyone anyway). As I have said, I like the Buddhist take, for it means that we always have another chance. I get this feeling that with Christianity, wherever you end up, it is FINAL.
I got to thinking about what happens at the moment of transition - regardless of what view one has. A person who has done nothing but wrong all his/her life will go into (it is assumed and even hoped) a very grim and awful place. In the Christian view, one who does much wrong in this life will go to Hell. The Buddhist view is more complex view. Reborn an animal, a demon, a hungry ghost, or a creature born in Hell; each life has more ignorance (and pain) than the human life ever will.
But I digress. Actually, I was trying to figure out what happens at that moment. Does a person really get judged and sent for reward or punishment? People have been asking these questions for thousands of years and will ask them for thousands of years to come (as long as awareness exists, anyway). Being something of a writer, I was trying to set such a scene up. It would be helpful if I could remember my own transition from my previous life to the one I'm living now. That sort of miracle only happens to certain people, and only if they've trained long and hard to reach such a remembering. Is it like climbing up the stairs to meet St. Peter, or is it more like the Greek model of crossing the River Styx on Charon's ferry? Hard to say.
It is easy for me to think about these things in such abstract, intelligent terms. Someday, I will face my mortality and fear going to sleep at night, certain that death is just around the corner. They say facing death is easy - it's the dying part that is hard to deal with. At least the Buddhist view is not so FINAL.
I think I'll stop with such morbid stuff and wish everyone a great weekend instead.