H.o.p informed me last night, “The years go by so quickly now! When I was little, each year was long. Now, it’s like the sun is jumping up and down.”
H.o.p. has a way of bringing up interesting subjects right when he’s supposed to be going to bed. Last night, it was, “I’ve read some bad things about Fox News. What is Fox News?” We don’t watch Fox News and he knows nothing about it–so we ended up talking a while about news, bias in the news, opinion and information vs. news, and propaganda.
I was going to post a quote from Alan Watts but then people started farting around me, distracting me from my current sense of purpose. Hop encouraged, “Try it, it gives you more humor.” Pretending ignorance, I said, “What?” H.o.p. said, “Farting!” He blew a fart on his arm and laughed. “See, it’s like a comedy show in just one second!” he said. Which got a laugh out of me. Hop exulted, “See, you’re laughing!”
First words out of H.o.p. this morning, “Well, y’know people have their own opinions and I’m my own person…” which means he’s about to ask for something which I’ve told him already was not a good idea.
Monty Basilisk Flying Death Circus. (A H.o.p. idea, when we were reading about the legendary basilisk. I was amused.)
“Take that, Sydney Opera House!”
H.o.p. and Marty are up front playing “Godzilla Unleashed’. I’m writing. I heard H.o.p. say that. It just struck me as one of those things not normally heard–unless you’re in earshot of people playing “Godzilla Unleashed”.
Now I hear, “I’m confused already,” and I think yes, that’s a bumper sticker.
Last night, I told Marty about PETA going after Obama for swatting the fly, and H.o.p. overheard. Now, I’ve never said a word about PETA, and H.o.p. loves animals, but it was immediately apparent that somehow someway this eleven-year-old had educated himself about PETA on the web, I didn’t know when or why, but he had, and he turned out to know everything there was possibly to know about PETA, and being the animal protein-enriched carnivore that he is, the mention of PETA set him off. So much so that he got up this morning talking about PETA and about how don’t they know that animals eat animals?! Even cells eat cells, of course not like animals eat animals ROWLF but deceptively, like hugging them, and then they consume them. Really, they do! “It’s called food! We had to have food in order to evolve! Instead of burgers they want us to eat veggie burgers! Don’t they realize that plants are alive, too?! What’s with them? What do they know about nature if they think that eating is evil?” He ranted on, and lord knows where he gets that from though he was vaguely reminding me of how his confused, frustrated mother raves about the wild world and her just not understanding ever why it does the things it does.
Finally, when I was ready to tune out and go make him breakfast, he said…
“Now, I do think pigs should be kept in bigger sties before they’re turned into pot stickers. But PETA is just messed up.”
I stared and then I laughed. I stifled my laughter and opened my notepad. The bit about pigs needing bigger sties before being turned into pot stickers, that one had gotten me and I wanted to write it down.
He was nowhere done.
“They compare eating animals to the Holocaust! It’s like riding a skateboard and going off a ramp, someone’s going to get hurt! In this case, Jewish people. That must really hurt them to hear eating animals compared to Adolph Hitler and the Holocaust! If people want to know what animal cruelty is, they should go to the ASPCA! They know all about it and don’t show horror films that are intended to scare little children!”
When he had wound down a little, I asked him, “So, tell me, how did you learn about PETA?”
“I was trying to look up pita bread on Wikipedia.”
“You must have misspelled it.”
“Why pita bread?”
“Because I wanted to know its history.”
“Why did you want to know the history of pita bread?”
“Because I like to eat it.”
“What do you want for breakfast?”
“Chili. But don’t tell PETA.”
H.o.p.: Ancient history is brutal.
Me: So’s modern history.
Interesting conversation with H.o.p. tonight. We were sitting at the puters after he’d practiced piano (he is now taking piano) and H.o.p. says after a while, “What can I do to keep from floating up?”
Hmmm. Okey-dokey. “You feel like you’re going out of your body sometimes?”
“Yes. Going up. I float up above it.”
I could tell he was worried. “If you don’t want to go up there or want to bring yourself back down, you ground yourself.” I smiled reassuringly and took his hand. “Like this. You take hold of something and really feel it and that can ground you. Like the blanket on the back of your chair. You could take hold of that and feel its weave.”
I could tell he was relieved I didn’t flip out and that was instead grinning at him and holding his hand.
“You’ve done this before?” I asked.
“Yes. I can look down and see you.”
OBE isn’t uncommon. What it is exactly, no one quite knows, though science thinks they may have pinpointed a site in the brain that has something to do with it. And considering he’s dyslexic and that dyslexics (at least some) have the ability to holistically see (or imagine) things from different angles, and H.o.p.’s dyslexic, there’s the dyslexia to consider.
I remember the time I was 13 or so years old, maybe younger, and had one of my more peculiar, emphatic waking OBEs. I became so confused by it that I turned my coke upside down (thinking I was righting it) and poured coke all over the place. May have been just a matter of the dyslexia. In the same dyslexic vein, I have been walking through a store, stopped to look at an item, and turned to face an entirely different world, flipped backwards from what it was, which makes everything look very different and then I have to try to figure out how to get out of there. Usually closing my eyes a couple of times and taking several steps will reorient things back to what they were. But it can still throw you.
So this may be the dyslexia or whatever science now thinks might cause it…or maybe he is looking down and seeing me. Hey, you jeer but I’ve had some odd experiences too and am not going to tell H.o.p.
“Does it worry you?” I asked.
He shook his head yes. “I’m afraid I’m going to fall.”
“You’re not going to fall. OK?”
And hoping to further reassure I told him a number of people felt this, sometimes awake, sometimes sleeping.
So, because H.o.p. loves monsters I read to him (in part) Arvin’s description of the Corporate Monster. He was in the middle of getting cranky about wanting another Happy Meal so he could have another Neopet. Mind you, he wants the Neopet for perfectly good reasons. There’s nothing wrong with him wanting another Neopet. Neopets need Neopet pets.
“I want more!”
“H.o.p., I have a description here of the Corporate Monster for you. Arvin wrote it.”
H.o.p. comes running. “What is it?”
“Is it friends with the government?” he asks.
“Yes, it’s good friends with the government.”
“Why is it good friends with the government?”
“Because the government that we have helps it get all the food it wants.”
“It must be friends with the Cyclops if it likes to eat people. I’m glad the government is far away from us.”
“I’m glad the government is far away from us.”
“Well, the government is around. It’s kind of everywhere too.”
“Well, I’m glad the government can’t come inside our place.”
I didn’t bother to tell H.o.p. that the government no longer has a problem with this, due to the Patriot Act. And for some reason I was distracted enough by all this that I walked right into the aquarium. Bam. Struck my right arm. It hurt.
“Elmo can defeat the Corporate Monster!”
“Yes, I bet Elmo can.”
“Elmo uses his magic sword to crash it on the Corporate Monster and it crumbles into a lot of triangles. And then something really weird happens. Inside of the Corporate Monster are treasures. Isn’t that great that the Corporate Monster is destroyed?”
A friend of mine has begun blogging at Cobalt Skink. She writes some beautiful things. A nice meditation today on weeding brambles, horror vacuui, making space and space being filled.
My son is telling me about majogos which are bugs that like to eat hair, which make everything unfurry and unhairy again. He asks if hippos have hair and why we can’t see the hair and then decides if it’s because their hair is tiny it must be because of the majogos that eat hair, which are also so tiny one can’t see them. He confesses to me one can’t see them because they are cartoon bugs he made up in his head. Some of them get really fat however when they eat the hair of a hippo. “When they eat the hippo’s hair they eventually get full and fat and take their hats off. They think hippos are a big forest. When they put back on their hats they are flat again and escape from the hippo that doesn’t grow any hair.” Majogos never get on monkeys because they’re too fast, and they run away from King Kong. There are majogos which when they finish eating the hair they become extinct. But other majogos stay on planet earth. In 15 years, he says, the evil majogos will be extinct.
Now you know. Maybe I should enter majogos in the Wikipedia.