In recent days I've spent some time looking at topographic maps of nearby state parks to determine if hiking is a thing I'd like to do again. The terrain here is a bit different than in Ohio. Yes, there were hills in Ohio, but I'm surrounded by mountains where I live now and it's a bit intimidating. They're everywhere. And the last hike I attempted had too many cliffs for my liking, so I'm being a little more cautious.
On the map of Blue Knob State Park I saw something marked "HISTORIC: Lost Cox Children Monument." It did seem like a place in the woods where children could get lost with great ease, but lots of people go missing and they don't get a monument. So, how is this any different?
As it turns out there's a story, a legend, and a Wikipedia article associated with this monument.
It was also close enough to where I live, so I had to go check it out.
There is a road that goes past the trail leading to the monument, and it's conveniently called "Monument Road." Inconveniently, however, it is gravel, narrow, and the turn-off is kind of tough to spot from the main, paved road running parallel to it. It's deep woods dark, and fallen trees encroach on what width the road does have. There is some space for parking along Monument Road once you get to the correct trail, and the trail is marked.
This is Ciana Run, it's a tributary of Bob's Creek.
It was split in two sections at this point. Lots of rocks and not much water.
After following the trail into the woods for a little bit there was a sign, and a path leading down to the monument.
People have placed fake flowers in the chain link barrier surrounding the monument. Just inside the fencing a couple small fairy or angel figurines sat on the ground in front of the stone. A small stream passes behind the monument. When I was there I crossed the rocks to get to the other bank and crossed back. It's a quiet, peaceful place.
Past the welcome sign, Lost Turkey Trail goes on and on...
Twenty-six miles in total. I didn't walk that one.
Well, I've missed a few posts due to having to go back to Ohio on short notice last week. I've been sick this week--flu-like fun. And I'll be heading back to Ohio to attend my great uncle's funeral at the beginning of next week.
Other than that, I do have some random things to share with you today...
Unrelated to gender, but related to book covers-- Good Show Sir--the worst in Science Fiction/Fantasy book covers
Here are a couple roadsigns I've been meaning to share. These are actually to the south of where I live. I really didn't notice the elephant when I took this picture because everything was grey and it just blended into the surroundings. Yeah, really. I'm not sure if We Got Stuff is still in use....
...but this hotel is not. You could buy it though, but I'm pretty sure it
wouldn't be a great business venture because there's not much of
anything out that way. I really like that the sign advertises the presence of color TV's and phones in the rooms. Then there's the bright yellow roof which is probably the only reason I noticed it.
There's also a place with some signs advertising a hotel further up the road, but the hotel sign and an empty lot are all that remain once you arrive.
And this last picture is in honor of my birthday weekend. I'm turning 30 on May 12th and don't have anything much planned to celebrate it. I thought this picture was pretty absurd...
What I want for my birthday is for whatever viral illness I have to go away, and to find the presser foot screw for my sewing machine.The presser foot screw has earned the distinction of being the most annoying item that I've ever lost...And I've actually been to JoAnn Fabrics since it went missing, but it's so insignificant that I can't remember that I need to buy another....ugh
This is an interesting video that simulates the experience of auditory hallucinations. When I've had auditory hallucinations it was quite like this, but usually I can't understand what the voices are saying.
A guide for writing autopsies
I so far don't have a use for that link, but I find this quite interesting.
Here's one of my poems just in case you were missing out on some crazy cat lady/black widow action.
Pussy
I will have twenty cats and just as many lovers that I’ll keep lined up on a wall, Not the cats, they don’t stand at attention as urns with ashes do, and pictures in frames They always found others, but never quite moved on a bit of them would rather be with me if only dust in a jar to occasionally stumble over with marabou trim, pedicure, and a leopard print dressing gown oh, it’s not that obvious, is it? No, lust is something more than planning, they learned; that they like being helpless tasteless is a flavor all it’s own and can be anything strawberry, vanilla, handcuffs, secretary, naughty nurses them back to health, they find a vitality in the taboo, that I expose and conceal like a dagger, blood-reddened lips, each kiss a bit of them inside me falls away with a fluid wrist motion, nothing is missing, but I’ve taken them all the pieces are here, waiting in the doorway I smile at the chance opening before me As the mailman slides another letter into the brass box
The memorial service I went to was pretty intense because I had tried to put aside my emotions to deal with later, and that was apparently the later. The part that got to me the most was the fact that she had been cremated and her jewelry had not. So, in the pitcher of ashes was a watch that I had always seen on my Nana's wrist. That made it real. The presence of her watch made it undeniable that those ashes were once a body, and not something I could explain away as something else.
Other than that, I've been trying to finish a few projects this week, and had a job interview. During my current job hunt, it struck me that something massive has changed about me as a person and I'm not sure what it is. It's good, but interesting. If the current incarnation of me had met the me from about ten years ago, I wouldn't have liked me.
In my giveaway for the Hop Against Homophobia, wulf was the winner. I will get that sent out Friday or Saturday.
Hi. Thanks for stopping by. I'm J. Lannan and it may not be the best time to host my first giveaway and be involved in a blog hop when my first m/m romance-type story won't be out until later this year-- I also have a job interview this morning, and will be out of town for a memorial service for a couple days-- but this is the time I have so I might as well use it.
Each blog is doing a giveaway of some sort and here is mine. Since I don't have any extra copies of magazines with my poetry and essays in them I am giving away some random LGBT swag. (Note: I'll probably find something else to add before the hop is over and will add that to the list, or just include it as a surprise)
One Pack of Meiji Hello Panda cookies--they're cute, strawberry-flavored and could be considered snacks that pair well with reading-related activities...
One Rainbow Wristband--I notice a 50% increase in flirting when I wear my rainbow wristband so it must be imbued with magical powers of some kind. (Blog owner not responsible if your wrist band does not have magical powers)
Two Badges--One has a hot dog in a raincoat with "always protect your weenie" printed on it, and the other says "Deal With It" in rainbow lettering
That list almost made me sound orderly...almost. So, in order to be entered to win my giveaway leave a comment on this post and include your e-mail address, or twitter info so I can contact you. When I get back in town on the 21st I'll randomly pick someone and send you a message to get your info.
Here are my two comments on homophobia since the blog hop tackles that issue. The first section discusses Iran's death penalty for homosexuality, and the second is a look at bullying and suicide through imagery I pulled from Dante Alighieri's Inferno. Intermission is exactly as it sounds.
Iran Executes Gay Men
I've been told that I have a gift for shining a different kind of light upon dark subjects, but as I write this I realize that I have trouble bringing my kind of light to a situation that is so horrific and extends far beyond the harassment, name-calling and rock-throwing that I've personally been on the receiving end of.
In college I majored in History and studied Iran's judicial system. It's a sad and corrupt system that often forces confessions via torture. I've always found myself drawn to the study of injustice because I have grand schemes about making the world a better place for everyone. I know that's a Miss America World Peace kind of statement, but it's true. One of the only things I kept around from being raised Catholic was the concept of do unto others as your would have done unto yourself, but even that is a pretty common sense concept.
Several years ago Mahmoud Ahmadinejad claimed that there were no gays in Iran. His American audience laughed. While his delusional nature may be amusing sometimes, the treatment of gays in Iran is no laughing matter. It may surprise you, or may not if you know the region, that consensual sex between men is punishable by death in Iran (and in other parts of the world). During my research I even watched an interrogation video in which a man had kidnapped another man to keep as a sex slave. One was obviously a victim (his teeth were bashed out), but when punishment was handed out both men were executed.
The Iranian judiciary just determined that four men will be executed for consensual sexual activities. The Jerusalem Post has that article. In 2005 two gay teenagers were executed for the same crime.
These events are happening in this day and age, and I feel stranded on an island of inability because I can't do anything substantial about it other than pass the information along wherever I am able. So this is the information I give to you.
Intermission
Being a Historian left me with this empty feeling of inability. I've heard stories about Historians being epic alcoholics for this very reason--well, that, and no one listens to Historians and History repeats itself if left forgotten...it's a frustrating field. So, where does an angsty, detail-obsessed person who harbors a compelling case of nascent alcoholism turn? Yes, become a writer. It was so obvious.
I still write essays, but now I write other things as well because I want to explore topics instead of theories. Writing gives me a platform, and if you're going to stand on a platform you better have something that you want to say.
The Grove
As I've mentioned before, I was raised Catholic and you can probably guess where I'm going with this...or not. Where earning a History degree left me frustrated with my lack of ability to change History the conformity of Catholicism I attempted to force upon myself left me with a lack of identity. It took me a long time to figure myself out after being told that everything I did could send me to the hell fire. Catholics are a little more subtle than other denominations, but the hell fire is still there. And it can give you quite a sense of hopelessness to live in a constant state of internal and external scrutiny that is simply incompatible with what you feel is true about yourself and the world. I now bring you to the universal topic of bullying and suicide that plagues so many kids in the LGBT community as well as those kids who are just different. I was twelve when I first attempted suicide. I don't really want to discuss the why, or how, or what right now because they're not part of this story, but this next section is the story.
Due to my long-term intimate relationship with suicidal thoughts, the Catholic belief system, and my Italian heritage I took a morbid solace in Dante Alighieri's Inferno. In the middle ring of the 7th Circle of Hell the people who committed suicide exist as gnarled and bleeding thorn bushes that are terrorized by harpies. The suicidal will never regain their bodies after The Final Judgment, but will have their corpses hung from their thorn bushes. (I told you it was morbid) This is the imagery I always return to when thinking about suicide, but I think of it differently because my relationship with nature is stronger than my relationship with the concept of hell.
I invite you to walk with me through the grove of the suicides. At first I feel peace because there is the notion of a quiet comfort in death. The struggle is over, it's true, but that's it...death is the end. We can just keep walking, though. We're not staying. The trees are all thorns and scabs. It's a sign of obvious pain, and the trees now bleed when injured, but in life the pain is not as obvious as a twisted mass of bleeding thorn branches. The scabs reopen old wounds, and the thorns harm those who get too close. It is a desperate situation. Depression puts up barriers or causes people to lash out, but suicide creates a death with painful memories for those who longed to be closer to the victim. Each memory doesn't simply contain the sadness of loss, but also an added nuance of pain because they could not reach the victim.
To me the harpies represent the reasons and torments that lead people to take their own lives, but as you'll notice the harpies are alive and still active to continue their torment. And even trying to understand this torment assails those left behind. Schools do too little, people don't care enough, and pain goes unrecognized, but after another life is lost everyone looks back and points to incidents and people. What good does it do now? Maybe we can stop them from tormenting anyone else, but I think the most important approach is to teach love and compassion. I think people don't love enough.
I want you to know that if you've wandered through the grove of the suicides you should know that you're not alone even though the path seems empty when you're there.
Wow, that was more of a downer than I expected... and I wanted to end with some love.
As had been expected my Nana passed away on Friday evening. Here is her obituary. On Thursday when she looked pretty bad I made a prediction that the Jehovah's Witnesses that I can't seem to break up with would stop by that day because they usually show up on Thursdays, I hadn't seen them in a while and they ALWAYS stop by to read scripture when I'm incredibly stressed out. And their readings are always applicable to that day. It's eerie.
Saturday morning...there they were. And their scripture reading was about predicting the future. I kid you not.
So, I smiled nervously as they did their reading, handed me their little magazines and went on their way.
In addition to that strangeness I have been researching Victorian funeral customs and I really like the idea of funeral biscuits. And I discovered why opening an umbrella while in a home is considered bad luck-"Dropping an umbrella on the floor or opening one in the house means that there will be a murder in the house." That was from the Friends of Oak Grove Cemetery's post about Victorian funeral customs, superstitions and fears.
I'm debating if I'm still in shock over the death of my Nana because it seems surreal as to how fast it happened, but I think I accepted it so readily because she was always an active person and I don't think she would have wanted to hold onto life in a nursing home while in pain from an illness that was taking over from the inside. It's unfair, it's horrific and I never got a chance to say goodbye because she was unresponsive so quickly...but life can be disappointing and doesn't always go as planned. You could drive yourself crazy trying to get a firm hold on the things you cannot control, or you can just let go and see what happens.
And now I have this mental image of that sandworm from the Beetlejuice movie stuck in my head...
I guess if a sandworm is what we're all going to encounter on the other side I suggest you punch it in the nose...
like a shark, or an uppity dolphin
I've been dragging this week due to the impending death of a family member. I had been thinking about making the trip up to see my Nana one last time, but she has been unresponsive and I'd rather my last memories of her be associated with when I visited after her surgery in October. During that surgery a tumor had been removed from her jaw and the side of her face was stitched up vertical below her eye. Even though she was unable to talk at that time, she was awake and wrote on her dry erase board, "I bet I look like Halloween."
Her rapid decline has been quite shocking because everyone had just found out that the cancer had spread on Monday morning.
So, I've been doing my best to distract myself which so far has involved sleeping, clearing my desk and playing Skyrim instead of working on my writing. I have submitted two things to publishers this month so far and I'm trying to finish up two more flash fictions by the end of the month, but we'll see how that goes.
Here are some images that are also kind of distracting. Not last weekend, but the weekend before I went to Sexapalooza. It's a consumer sex show and there were a lot of Burlesque performers and dancers of various types. Also included were seminars and opportunities to buy various products of a sexual nature. I wasn't impressed with the museum of sex because it was pretty much posters with some facts printed on them, and then some vintage underwear hanging up that wasn't all that inspiring (I've done more risque google searches), but here are pictures of some of the performers.
