the pelican

once more with feeling

to boldly go

so you can gather what you will.

make of it whatever you choose.

decide for yourself. make up your own mind. pick it all out.

but however it comes together, whatever it means, well.

well well.

been watching old star treks lately. the 60s concept of the future. in succession. on the discs.

yeah i’ve even got ‘em in the little primary color plastic communicator shaped boxes.

uh huh.

next generations too of course. have to say though, the only thing that got me through the trial was a regular solid nightly dose of red dwarf. kryton and lister and rimmer and cat. because when you’re the only human being left alive in the universe you need to put on your spacesuit and get out there and scrub the side of a ship the size of a city with a foaming brush.

but i digress.

yeah so i’ve been into the old stuff. 1966. where all the women wear tiny little miniskirts and go-go boots and hand the captain clipboards and cups of coffee. where the crewmen flip switches and snap buttons and lights blink and twinkle. where computers are large hollow boxes with screens and christmas lights and spinning reels. and all alien skies are orange and there are always plenty of styrofoam rocks around. and the women all have high piled wiggy space-do hair and must be filmed through shaded shadowy soft focus.

where cheap minimalism and primary colors defined what was thought of in the past as futuristic.

and as they say, captain always gets his shirt ripped. and uhura opens frequencies. and good ole scotty can do anything with a screwdriver. what a guy. and bones is only a doctor, not a mechanic or any other number of various professions.

and that’s all well and good but well see for me it was really all about spock.

always spock.

intelligence. wisdom. and of course logic. logically logically logic. and science.

oh he was so tragically misunderstood. a sensitive alien among barbarians.

because it wasn’t that he didn’t have emotion. oh no. it was that he was so disciplined in not being pulled about by it. he maintained a kind of detachment. he understood the entanglement of attachment. ataraxia. a true stoic.

yet they patronized him. they pushed his buttons but he could not pushed. spock was supposed to be somehow inferior to passionate humans. captain was always quick to retaliate. ready to fire. spock kept his phaser on stun.

and as second in command, he had made peace with his ego.

spock was ahead of his time in a future that was stuck in the past.

oh silly humans. how they react so emotionally. so destructively. and they put on such airs and puffery. full of flattery and threats and deception.

but not spock, no. oh to be so cool. so detached. so logical. calm and wise and smart smart smart. and gentle. spock was brutally honest, but gentle and without malice. he did not react.

but me on the other hand . . . well, uh well.

if it’s any indication, last night i came home from work in a whirl about deadlines. pretrial order to draft, disclosures, two big sets of discovery, a scheduling order. all to be done in advance in order to take a couple weeks off at the end of may. and plenty of other things to get done in the midst. an ocean of documents to be reviewed and sent out for ocr scanning to send out to experts. and the office is going to be moving into another space without any storage or working area and there is an endless amount of things to be done and sorted out and i can see the train wreck coming and know that it is unavoidable. and it’s mother’s day and nephew’s piano recital and groceries and errands and and and and got in the shower to wash the day off.

the new self-care plan. like to get in the shower right after work. put on comfy cloths and then sit outside on the grass with the cats under the trees for a little while before starting the dinner making process. for a re-centering of sorts. a return to the breath.

so i turned on the water and jumped in the shower.

with my socks and glasses on.

luckily, noticed the socks fairly quickly but didn’t realize about the glasses until completely covered in shampoo. hard to see when your glasses are dripping in globs of suds.

oh to get so wound up and stressed out and running in so many directions at once.

how illogical.

and make no mistake about it, my expressions betray me all the time. feelings flow through me in great intensity and with varying frequencies all day long. even have a drama queen charm on my keyring that a friend gave me. he said it would be advisable to carry it with me always as a medical alert tag.

and truth be told, guess you could say i have no poker face.

no i don’t actually. i really don’t. i can conceal nothing.

blush and smile and stammer and bumble and apologize and walk into things on a regular basis. bark and gasp and chatter and laugh out loud. heck i cry when i watch movies or even read the writers’ almanac poem every day. talk to myself. have many expletives. mutter and whisper and gulp and shriek. oh and criticize and complain. and whine. oh can i whine. and sing and hum and do a plethora of sound effects. and make all sorts of silly faces when trying to concentrate.

but worst betrayal of all, i get flustered. nervous and anxious. and embarrassed. oh the horror. the naked vulnerable reality of it all.

spock would be so disappointed in me.

for aspire and practice as i may, i have finally concluded a vulcan i will never ever be.

and so you may gather what you will.

make of all this whatever you choose.

decide for yourself. make up your own mind. pick it all out.

but however it comes together, whatever it means, well.

well well.

take it or leave it. accept or reject it.

this is what there is.

live long and prosper.

posted by: limine at 14:24 | link | comments (12) |

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