I’m Walking Here Part 2

mail from my sister re: I’m walking here blog.” She says,
“Hilarious!  Glad to see you back in print ..  I’m your#1 fan 🙂  xox”

Aw thank you so much my beautiful sister!! You are my #1 and only fan. Seems I am writing just for you, poor thing. I do so like to complain, as you know. So thanks for your listening skills. If I have a beef  in my craw, then that’s inspiration to get it out to the ether. Dismantle those Life in Outer Space probes. There’s only one sentient life form out there. That’s my sister!!

Back on Terra Ferma, one of my acquaintances has a blog on WordPress, a confessional so to speak, to the point of Oh my! titillating. It’s about her emerging as a “poly-amorous” person which she likens to being gay, in that you “come out” as a “poly.” My definition of “poly” is someone who fu… around, however that is very crude and insensitive of me and so unevolved.

The evolved definition is more like someone who loves more than one person as a romantic interest and they both know what the other one is doing, such as in an “open marriage” in which both partners fu… around, er excuse me can amour more than one person, sort of like a rainbow rather than one color, which is inevitably grey. So that’s her blog. I’ll send you the URL. Actually it’s very good writing. It doesn’t indulge much in unnecessary words to get to the “good” parts which in itself makes it exciting because you know you’ll be through reading the damn thing sooner rather than later.

So, I added my own blog on WordPress, not an easy thing to do if you don’t pay for the “upgrade.” The fonts are aggressively ugly and you can’t change them unless you pay $99 a year. Word Press is set up as a blog community of sorts in that you can suffer er trade blog reading and make mutual comments that say, “I feel your pain.”

I get a “feed” in my email from a blogger called something like, “thoughts from a Mother.” Which is often about her father who is dying and how she mows his lawn and leaves daughter to dad sad but loving and appreciative notes on his pillow which he reads and then cries.She cries. It’s sad. However, he is not dying today exactly. He is old which seem to be the same thing, but here I go again being insensitive. I like the Mum in her blog and think it’s a miracle to be able to be completely devoid of snarky artifice in life, so I read on, marveling, sort of like visiting a lion preserve on the Sahel. Those lions are oblivious to the child bully problem and issues of co-dependency. Artless lions are sort of the opposite side of the coin from artifice free people.

Mother and it seems everyone else who writes a blog uses the contemporary way of writing or saying one’s innermost thoughts. It’s an odd discipline – quite odd actually – because it’s completely devoid of anger, antagonism, or irony. I don’t know how they do that. I think there is a book, perhaps by someone translated from the original Urdu. I can hear a raga in my head.

It seems that anger is no longer an emotion but sort of a mutation of a recently sanctioned emotion – as evidenced by fear biting dogs, I imagine, but I’m still confused. The polar opposites of love vs hate come to mind and I can’t think of a mutation for either of those except you are not supposed to hate these days because it causes wars.

I have felt fear and I have felt what I thought was anger and these are definitely not the same. Although I’ll admit fear may bring on a defensive response that looks like anger to the outside observer. To the inside observer pure anger is more fun. It’s well, artless. To me it’s a creative force, but then I harken from the old days when anger was still a useful emotion.

I have no comments posted on either blob except yours. (except that one by someone who doesn’t like my “fat slob” blog. Although I have 970 hits since I started my other blob (Weebly)  I have no idea who these people are. I assume they are people. According to the “stats” most don’t go past the “home” page. Maybe they were looking for a bathroom. I think it’s my Twitter postings that got me my “hits” I have no idea how that works. I have so much to find out. What about your mini web class, did it go into “hits” and such? Maybe you can tell me.

Love always

Your Snarly Sister Paw

“Why is it all the books about death are written by the living?”


For my main site so to www.mizzpaw.com


“Why is it all the books about death are written by the living?”

I have recently, again in a talk group, had my pending death examined by those who strive to  possess knowledge about death that I apparently at almost 80 do not possess and really don’t want to. Death in the self help- on- the- road- to- inner- peace  is posited as a Awareness that One must embrace more and more with each advancing year. I must somehow cherish my  impending doom and of course I will be missed. “Death is beautiful…”

How does anyone know that?

And before we are off into the yonders of Death – wait one little minute. We old folks  have things to do and places to go, just like anyone else, even if it’s in our imagination. The meaning of life is as important to us as it is to yours. Don’t hover around us waiting for the “beautiful” moment so you can experience your acceptance of death.


I’M WALKING HERE!!, as in Ratso in Midnight Cowboy yells out to someone who pushes past him on the sidewalk. We know Ratso is soon to die but meanwhile there he is!

Dear Mum the blogger, I don’t intend to minimize your tears at the gradual loss of your father has you know him, spirited and dynamic. . I lost my own father bit by bit to Parkinson’s disease. But was this just a perception given to me by the hale and hearty living? What was lost? Each person has their own reality based on well… reality. But I suggest perhaps a different path for some who can pull it off. I am one of those old people on the cusp of 80. I have a hard time getting put of a chair, I am so weak that I have to sleep after the slightest exertion such as walking outside a few feet.


I want to say, suggest, whatever to get my point across that the mind does not need to follow the body, as per the expectation: aka the mind lock step follows the body. I see many old people (and most people) who adopt a mind set that has been bequeathed to them by custom, the expectation that once the body goes “downhill” it’s toward the end, as in a juggernaut gaining momentum until the crash of death.

“Is your mother in decline?” asked a man friend of my daughter’s when he saw me on crutches. I had just broken my foot. Many people break their feet and they are not old yet.  Babies break their feet. This assumption is not made about young people. For young people there is an assumption of recovery (say from the sky driving accident that produced brain damage, or the MS that physically compromises Stephen Hawking) and onto the rest of a dynamic life. Old people can have also have recovery of symptoms and also be on to a dynamic life. Just because we see the end looming doesn’t mean the end of life for today or even the immediate tomorrow.  Today is yesterday’s future.

I think what is held as the downhill of life in old people is depression  at the loss of physical ability and the unwelcome addition of pain and discomfort that does come with advancing years. Their loved ones are anticipating their impending death by striving for empathy concerning an entity no living person has a clue about. And no wonder, anyone at any age would feel depressed if that happened to them. What I am suggesting is, for us to look at the person and not the age. Save your empathy for life not death.