Saturday, January 18, 2014

[Fibro Note] Allowances.

  • I am allowed to be vocal about my pain if it helps me heal
  • I am allowed to be sad in places other than my own head
  • I am allowed to express my anger/sadness/hurt in ways that do not hurt other people, whether that is in writing or speaking to friends
  • I am allowed to speak my truth even when it makes others uncomfortable
  • I am allowed to take care of myself, even if it makes people who hurt me uncomfortable
  • I am allowed to create my own rules for self-care

[A Ramble] Hunting, Sport Hunting, Trophy Hunting.

(Tosses a bale of hay out on the balcony to distract the bunnies.)

I recently dared to post to my Facebook timeline two pictures; one decried trophy hunting, the other decried sports hunting. Doing so apparently means I'm against all forms of hunting, am trying to pee on people's freedoms, steal all guns, lock people in their basements and hate everyone who has to eat.

Uhm. No.

Trophy hunting is going out for the purpose of killing an animal for having a trophy. Typically this is to show some sort of uber scary manly (in the adjective sense rather than gender sense) ability at gun use. This is the killing of a moose for its antlers, this is the killing of a lion to take it home and have it stuffed. While the moose meat may be handed out to people, more often than not it goes to the flies. I haven't seen the statistics for how much of the lion meat gets eaten, but as carnivores tend to taste like drek, I'm thinking next to none.

Sports hunting is going out for the purpose of killing an animal for the fun of it. Typically this is just for the endorphin or adrenaline high that comes from shootin' thumper into little itty pieces with a .45 Magnum.  This is the joy of shooting a kangaroo so full of holes you couldn't eat it even if you wanted to. This is going out to the savannah and shooting as many lions as you can. Lions are a favourite target of both, by the way, since they look like such scary, manly, threats, but really aren't. (Do your own research, I'm too pissed off to do your homework for you.)

So, apparently since I'm against those two forms of hunting I must also be against people who hunt for food. Apparently I also must be against population control, human safety and a host of other things that involve dangerous creatures having to be killed. I know this because I had several people tell me at great length how scummy I am for this.

Listen, I'm against reckless driving, but that doesn't mean I'm against people going for a Sunday drive up to Othello Tunnels. (Unless they're doing 130 km/h and weaving in and out of traffic.)

I am sick and tired of people automatically assuming the worst of me and starting a fight. Instead of just jumping in with both feet and assuming all sorts of things about me, wouldn't a "What do you consider sports hunting, Lorna?" have gone oh so much farther? Instead of making Facebook a place I don't even want to be, wouldn't a little extrapolation have been recommended? And y'know, even if I *was* against sports fishing (which isn't the same as hunting?) where you put a trophy on the wall and eat the fish meat, isn't it my right to say so on my wall? You don't like it, instead of doing your best to treat me like the crap you want scraped off the bottom of your boot, wouldn't it be better to make a counter post on your own wall? Or defriend me? Or ignore the post? I never said "Bob is scum because Bob hunts deer on weekends." I said trophy hunters and sports hunters suck.

I am an omnivore. I see no difference between going out and humanely killing Bambi as I do going out and humanely killing a cow. I do see a difference from humane slaughter and driving into a pasture with an AK-47 and mowing down a herd of cattle, deer, whatever, just because you can.

Friday, January 17, 2014

[Random Nonsense] I have met a fly with cataracts.

I was sitting out on the balcony enjoying the sun and breeze, drinking coffee and reading. At some point I must have spilled some of my coffee, I hadn't been paying any particular attention to it. When I switched seats because the sun was in my eyes, I noticed a house fly was playing in spilled coffee.

I doubt instant coffee with sugar and whitener is particularly good for humans, I have no idea how fly friendly it is, but he was happily wandering around sucking it up. What made him interesting was that instead of the red-brown his eyes should have been, they were 90% cream with the very centres were white. Instead of the dark carapace, it was flaking and had a strong white sheen. It was either diseased or old.

Considering we're in January and it's not exactly been warm food rotting weather for several months, I can only assume it was a fly of great age. I watched him drink for a while and when I got tired of holding my coffee mug I put it down. When my shadow went over him he paused but then continued drinking. I couldn't decide if it was he couldn't really see anything or if he's got that cantankerous age of 'I survived all sorts of stuff you wouldn't believe, I ain't movin for some stinkin' shadow!" I figure it was probably the former.

It wasn't until I stood and walked in front of him that he stopped and fly back onto the wall away from me. It was like he knew I was there but I didn't really exist until I was visible to the front part of his eyes, the only dark part.

Flies get old and fall apart just like the rest of us. Who knew?

Thursday, January 2, 2014

[Random Writing] Just one.

Today’s writing theme on a blog I follow was ‘One.’ I thought I could write about the Metallica song and its meaning or its origin. I thought I could write about the first Doctor, but I don’t really know his personality well enough to fanfic. (I came in at the 4th.) I thought I could write a story about a goalie or netminder since they wear one on the back of their jerseys, but all that seemed very uninspired, so I decided to write this instead.

* * *

"What’s one more drink?" Steph wheedled. She held up the rum and coke and swirled the glass suggestively.

Mark sighed, “Okay, okay, just the one, then I have to get home and let the dogs out. I don’t need piddle carpet!”

She grinned, this way he wouldn’t miss midnight and she’d get her kiss in. Seriously, who wanted to leave before midnight anyway?

Half an hour to finish a drink, kiss a bunch of people; some taking more liberties than others, and then get on the road.

He was probably speeding a bit more than he should have been, but the dogs needed out. His reaction speed probably wasn’t what it should have been after one too many. His eyes, however, he swore, before he breathed into the device for the police officer, were fine. He just didn’t see the car coming across the four-way stop that he vowed he’d slowed down for even if he hadn’t quite stopped for.

He hadn’t seee the girl as his SUV had crumbled the driver’s side door halfway to the passenger’s side. Why did they have to build those things so flimsy anyway? The handcuffs the officer put on his were certainly made well enough.

Later, her mother told the papers, “If she had one bad habit.. it was driving late at night when she was plotting out short stories.”