The Weekend... *meh*

I never thought I'd say this, but I really wish I had that weekend back!

It didn't start out bad. Alex and I got to semi-sleep in on Saturday because her softball game didn't start until 10:00. The two teams were pretty evenly matched (meaning they could both hit, but their fielding skills are a little off). It's really bad when the crowd cheers because a kid fielded the ball AND manged to throw it to the right person who managed to catch it in time for the out.

Meanwhile I fell pray to the weather people of the world and I actually believed that it was going to rain Saturday afternoon and Sunday. It didn't. It barely even sprinkled. I was afraid it was going to though, so instead of being outside, painting like I should have been I was running errands and cleaning the house. We did get A LOT of junk cleared out of Alex's room and I was able to freecycle a lot of it away so you can't say that the time was wasted. Still, I wish I had been wasting the time painting my car instead of responsibly cleaning the house.

The highlight of the entire weekend had to be Sunday morning breakfast. Alex was eating her Honeycomb cereal and like any bored, kid she was reading the nutrition on the side of the box.

"Vitamin A. Vitamin B. Vitamin B12. Vitamin B7. Vitamin C. Vitamin D. WHAT THE HACK! THERE'S NO SUGAR IN THIS THING!!!!!"
I took the box and looked at it, "No, there's sugar. 10 grams of sugar."
Alex sighed, "Well, thank goodness. I need sugar to get through the day."

The First Fairy

by Katy 2008

this evening,
fairies.

i know when you look for them

they won't be found,
but today i was drawn
to her and her tree.

see?
there!

she's hiding
among the leaves.

look closely.
she's dancing.

I Just Need You to Listen to Me

they instentively wanted to do something.

wanted to fix it, to make it better-

by Katy 2007

The Feeding of Birds

Bird on a Swing, by Katy 2008

So my dad has fixed the "squirrel proof" bird feeder. It is back, hanging in the tree in our back yard. I couldn't help but notice that it was missing something. Birdseed. I asked Dad about it and he was happy to explain the whole thing to me. You see, he couldn't bare the thought of spending $20 on the feeder only to have it taken out of commission 2 days later by a gang of deviant squirrels and one lost bolt. So he took the feeder to the hardware store where a clerk helped him find the bolt that he needed to fix it. He then got a new rope. He says the new one is stronger. (I'm not really clear on why that matters because the failure in his rig the first time had nothing to do with the rope, and everything to do with squirrels equipped with wrenches.) Once home, Dad fixed the feeder and used his new super rope to hang it in a tree. As he explained all this he turned to gaze at it out the window, clearly proud of how cleaver he is. "So why didn't you put food in it?" (I thought that was the question I had asked.) He looked at me in that "you just don't get it kind of way" and said, "So the squirrels won't get it!"


Yeah, don't worry. I don't get it either. Why have a feeder with no food? Is the goal to trick birds into landing in our backyard? Maybe when they are flying around they will spot the feeder from the sky and decided to make a pit stop at our place, landing before they realize that there is nothing there for them. If you really want to see birds, all you have to do is go down the street to the stop light. I always see birds over there. We have the wires in our yard, all we need now is some second hand traffic signals. Before you know it, we'll have a whole colony of birds pooping on us while we swing or play catch in the yard.

UPDATE: When I got home this evening I found the birdfeeder lying on the ground. Dead. It looks like the squirrels were not fooled by dad's idea to not fill the feeder up with seeds. They cut the super strength string and took the feeder apart, again. From the looks of things, there were seeds in the feeder after all.

Weekend Recovery

Gryffindor, by Katy © 2008

This was me after Easter Sunday. Exhausted. I spent the weekend cleaning like some stupid adult. Now I know how all those people feel. You know, those people who work all week and then spend all weekend cleaning. Its not that I don't know that our house is a total wreck and I should do laundry more, its just that I have so many other things I would rather do with my weekend. What is more important? Cleanliness or happiness? I know, for some being clean IS being happy, but that is just not a concept I will ever be able to wrap my head around. Anyway, it was Easter, Alex's birthday is coming up (which means a party with guests), and we are moving out this summer so I thought it was good that I start cleaning now. Its just part of the processes of leaving this stage behind and growing into the next. That doesn't make it easier though.

Saturday I had a chance to walk a labyrinth (one of the coolest I have seen in a long time I might add) and I didn't really enjoy it at all because instead of being all prayerful and open I just kept thinking "when can I sit?" Would I have been breaking all labyrinth laws if I had just walked straight to the middle and laid down on those pillows? I totally would have if Alex, and all those other people hadn't have been there. It was such an awesome visual though that I can still close my eyes and see it - the dark room with candles flickering - pure magic.

Imagination!

Imagination! by Katy 2008

So here it is, the long awaited picture of the art car, Imagination! I'm sure that a better name will come as time goes on, but that is the theme that I am working with for now. The whole thing is inspired by the Journey Into Imagination ride that opened in EPCOT in 1986 (see 80s rainbow). There is a reason why you are only seeing one side of the car. I have only finished one side. The other side has only the first strip down. I have found that I have taken on too many projects. Its hard to clean a house, paint a car AND go to work.

For your enjoyment, part of the original song from the ride,

One Little Spark

One little spark of inspiration,
Is at the heart of all creation.
Right at the start of everything that's new,
One little spark lights up for you.

Oh, hello there. So glad you could come along. I am the Dreamfinder. Musical notes! What delightful melodies those will make. I love these flights of fancy. Searching the universe for sounds, colors, ideas--anything that sparks the imagination! A sunbeam! That's a good one. Everything that I collect can inspire amazing and marvelous new ideas. And you never know what kind of figment you may come up with. Here's my favorite!

Two tiny wings, eyes big and yellow.
Horns of a steer, but a lovable fellow.
From head to tail, he's royal purple pigment.
And there--Voila!--you've got a Figment!

A Figment of Imagination!

~Robert & Richard Sherman~

Life After Death

So Thursday I wrote that got a new camera because my old one was dead. Well. I have kept the old camera sitting by the computer desk and every once and a while I have pushed the on button just to see what would happen. This morning. As I sat here, waiting for my computer to load, I pushed the button. It turned on. I guess this really resurrection Sunday.

Equinox

Backyard, by Katy © 2008

Today is an anomaly. I haven't looked it up, but I'm sure that this kind of thing only happens once in ever million years. Today is Holy Thursday and the Spring Equinox. Today is the only day of the year that there will be the exact same amount of sunlight that there is moonlight. From here on out there will be more light than darkness.

I find it really interesting that this day should correspond with Holy Thursday. The day that Jesus washed the feet of his disciples and shared the last supper. Interesting that this event is remembered, this year on the day that a new season is officially here. In many ways, I think we can say, that the last super was the closing of one chapter and the starting of another. It was the first time in the Gospels that we hear Jesus giving his "what will happen to you all when I die" talk to the disciples. It is a dark time. For him, spring has not yet come.

In Spring, we celebrate new life. Bunnies are shagging and eggs are hatching, reminding us that after darkness, winter, the reflection of advent, and fasting of lent, there is new life to be had. We are growing and changing.

It is an odd feeling tonight. Odd that we celebrate the joy of the Earth, yet still reserve the remembrance of the struggles that are still a head. In way this joy of Spring is a good reminder of how the disciples really felt on this night. We see it as the last super. We listen to Jesus prepare for his death. They didn't see it that way. This was a celebration. They were still riding the high of Palm Sunday. They were celebrities and they were feasting with their messiah. It is a good reminder that today is a day of joy. The sorrow comes tomorrow.

On a slightly less related note, but a new beginning all the same, I got a new camera today. The "new battery" idea didn't work. So now, a whole new challenge of photography with a whole new camera.

Spring

Somewhere

a black bear

has just risen from sleep

and is staring

down the mountain.

All night

in the brisk and shallow restlessness

of early spring

I think of her,

her four black fists

flicking the gravel,

her tongue

like a red fire

touching the grass,

the cold water.

There is only one question:

how to love this world.

I think of her rising

like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against

the silence

of the trees.

Whatever else

my life is

with its poem

sand its music

and its cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness

coming

down the mountain,

breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her –

her white teeth,

her wordlessness,

her perfect love.

~ Mary Oliver ~

(House of Light)

America the Beautiful

Today, as an American, I reflect.

Photo by Jayel Aheram

Jayel Aheram is a United States marine based out

of Twenty nine Palms, California.

Still on active duty, he was deployed to Iraq's Al-Anbar province.

Today marks the 5th Anniversary

of the start of the war in Iraq.

Five years ago today

we dropped bombs on a nation

that did not attacked us.

Five years ago today

America started a war.

Chicago Tribune photo by Zbigniew Bzdak / March 14, 2008

Yesterday Obama gave a speech. In my opinion it was one of the greatest I have heard him give. I identified with what he said. America is a flawed nation. Race is the elephant in the room that we have never been able to successfully sweep under the rug. The dirty little secret is out.

Obama's former pastor is racist, so was his grandmother, and so is my father.

I have not really chosen sides in the democratic primary, I feel there are things that I don't like about both candidates. But today, I want to say thank you to Barak Obama. Thank you for giving the speech that we needed to hear, and not the one we wanted to hear.

Holy Week

Holy week started yesterday with Palm Sunday. We celebrated Jesus coming to Jerusalem with the same caiose that comes with ushering 300 children into the sanctuary. The hard part is making them look angelic while they sward fight with palm branches they are suppose to be waving. I have always wondered who started that tradition. I don't think anyone has ever stepped forward to take the blame. If they did, I'm sure every children's minister would burn their likeness in effigy. This year we were treated to some extra excitement. One of the women in the choir fainted right before the service, as she sat in the choir loft. I was in the back hall with a group of palm wavers. As the EMS ran past us to revive her, the 3rd grade boys decided she was probably already dead. She wasn't. Much to their disappointment, she wasn't even wheeled out on the gurney.

I have made a huge amount of progress on the car. One side has the full rainbow on it. It looks spectacular. Alex did an awesome job helping me with it. I think the green could use another coat, but passed that I'm ready to move to the other side. I would have gotten more done, but Alex had softball practice. She couldn't find her glove and ended up grabbing a right handed one. Well she told me this as we walked out on the field. I didn't have shoes on and I was covered in paint. No problem, I ran home to get a left handed one. I could only find the one my sister had used, which is probably two sizes too big for A at the moment. Since I had already run home and back once I decided to stay and help fetch the balls the girls had let slip by them. Barefoot of course. I'm sure the coach just thought I was a mess.

I would have pictures of all of this, but my camera isn't working. Its charged, but won't turn on. I have dropped it several times. Once on the concrete of Epcot, so I know that if its truly broken its all my fault. I am getting $400 back from the government (thank god for medical deductions!) but I would rather not spend that on a camera. I'm going to try and replace the battery first. It may be a fool's earned, but I'm desperate.

One World, One Dream

Photo courtesy of Reuters © 2008

Refugee Tibetans in India march to show their support for the 15 monks who were arrested in Tibet on March 10 by Chinese Police forces after they staged a peaceful protest demanding political and religious freedom.

Photo courtesy of Reuters © 2008
Today police in Nepal charge at peaceful protesters, which included exiled Tibetan monks. The protesters had gathered to voice the call for the freedom of Tibet. The upcoming Summer Olympic Games in China, and the announced closing of the Mt. Everest Base Camp in Nepal to avoid pro-Tibetan protest while the Olympic torch is carried to the Mountain has renewed the voice in the call for China to free Tibet.

I don't know what we as Americans should be calling for here. Certaintly an end to this violance and the release of those arrested who are probably being torchered now. What else should be done? Do we boycott the Olymics like we did when they were held in Mascow? Many in the world would argue no, that the games are suppose to transide the bounds of political differances. I can understand were the athletes are coming from. Compeating at the Oylmpics is a life long dream, one that will be possible only once in a lifetime for many. I can see that through no fault of their own, a boycott would end many of their dreams. But is this mearly a differeance of politics? For me the question is, can I look with pride at the Olympic torch as it is carried to Everst knowing the lenths the Chinese have gone to to silence desent? Would I want to sit in a stadium that I knew was built by workers who were payed slave wages? What is more important, a persons quest for the gold medal or a persons quest for freedom?

Unenlightened

i saw the field of wildflowers and

images of Mary Oliver

played through my mind,

urging me to venture off

the well trodden path

that's how i found myself

fighting through a never ending sea

of over grown weeds and

pushing back the thorns

of over romanticized wild flowers,

kicking up crickets and

other unidentified flying objects

with each labored step

until suddenly, it was here,

this spot, a small retreat

from the suffocating wilderness,

a simple oasis of old bricks and rock

i sat and crossed my legs,

breathed in the heat,

pushed back the humidity,

shut my eyes and let time float away

there is something crawling on my foot

i'll open my eyes,

take in all the glorious beauty of nature,
taste the mountain breeze as i

inhaled the fresh clean air and

watch the vibrant red and yellow flowers

dance to the gentle song of the wind

or is that the rustling of a snake?

i don't think i'm becoming

more enlightened, i'm just numb

to the pain of the rocks i've sat on,

the grass spurs i've gathered,

the ants i have feed.

i just need to stand up and move on

~Katy

Looking for Fairies

photo by Katy © 2008

One good thing about the time change is the sunlight. Working Downtown, sunlight isn't something I get to enjoy very often. If I were a lawyer, which I'm not, I'd have a window in my office, which I don't.

Today I got to take full advantage of the change. After returning home with Alex we went outside to play. I scanned our yard for signs of fairies. I know what you're thinking.... it's not spring yet!! You would be right. It isn't spring, but we are getting close. Flowers are blooming, the bees are buzzing, the sky was bright blue. It wasn't a proper fairy hunt, just a peek around. I guess I'll check again after the solstice. In the meantime, I got some good shots of the yard.

Squirrels Unite!

A's birdhouse

My daughter put together a birdhouse a year or so ago, and last month she talked my dad into hanging it up in our back yard. Like everything, she had very specific instructions for him. "It has to be hanging on the branch of tree. Use some rope or a chain. Then we need bird seed for it."

My dad obliged, but he decided that putting bird seed in it wasn't the best of ideas. Instead he bought a "squirrel proof" bird feeder to hang next to it. Apparently the term "squirrel proof" was over exaggerated because before the end of the week Alex and I came home and found it in fine condition, laying on the ground, the seeds gone. It looked like they had lowered the thing gently to the ground, undone the bolt that held the top on, carried the seeds off and then replaced the top. The only problem was that, whoever was in charge of holding the screw didn't do a good job. It seems they had lost it. Probably a young boy squirrel who set it down while he attempted to brake his latest hacky sack record, and then lost track of where he had put it. Still, the lid had been propped up on the feeder. I guess they were hoping we wouldn't notice the missing part.

My dad was mad. "How could they?" he asked. Not in a "I can't believe squirrels are that industrious tone. More in an "How dare they" kind of way. I don't get it. I have heard stories of people fussing about squirrels taking the food they indented for birds and how upset they were. Why? Why is it fun to give birds free food and not squirrels. Maybe if we had squirrels feeders they wouldn't feel the need to crawl into our attics.

Personally, I like the rodents a lot better than their feather counter parts. For one, I have never found squirrel poop on my newly washed car. For another... they much more social. I have a feeling that with the rise of "squirrel proof" feeders, a group of the smartest squirrels pulled their resources and started a think tank. They have devised and elaborate underground facility where prototypes of these feeders are analysed and tested for any and all weaknesses. The information is then compiled, and easy to read diagrams are drawn up. The information is passed on to all squirrel communities who subscribe to the service. There is probably a membership fee of 10 acorns a month, or 100 acorns a year. I say good for them! They are using smart, organized tactics to get the point across that squirrels need food too!

UPDATE: Since posting the above I have found that there are people (on the Internet) who are firm believers in what they call "Squirrel Hazing." Ever wonder why that squirrel decided to fun across the street just as you drove by? Or stole your bird feeder out of your tree? The answer my friends is that they are young squirrels trying to be excepted in the 'in crowd.' Like the hazing that goes on in frats and sororities, these squirrels dare to do the ridiculous to prove that they are worthy of the appreciation of the mindless. I would rage on them more, but they are squirrels after all. I'm not sure I buy the hazing idea. I would say its an idea conceived by frat boys, but I don't think they think that much. Still, I do think it is all part of an elaborate game of truth or dare.

The Purple Grape Rides Again

Well, today I rolled up my sleeves and plunged into battle. I stepped up to the purple car with my scraper and took no prisoners. I thought as I scrapped and peeled and sanded of the family my sister first bought the car from. They were nice. A grandmother raising her grandson I think. They lived in a trailer park, the kind news crews drive through after a bad storm so that those of use who are sitting at home starring mindlessly at our TVs can take time to pat ourselves on the back for living in a house made out of brick. They seemed really nice, and quit sad to be loosing the car. They had just gotten an brand new used car and so they no longer need the old Geo. Still, you can tell they were attached. The 12 year old future hair dresser had once dreamed of driving the "Purple Grape" once he reached high school.

Yes, they named their car, Purple Grape. It was one of the many charming things about the car. Soon we all were naming our cars after their colors. Heather had the "Blueberry" for a short time. I admit, when I bought my Saturn I was influenced by the colors name, "Dragonfly Green". (In reality I would say it was teal, but Dragonfly seem more mystical). Anyway, in Anna's absence, in her increasing embarrassment of being a lawyer who drove a POS I had almost forgotten about the magic The Purple Grape once held. There was something about the time I spent with it yesterday and today that helped us to re-connect. Yes, in a way I was tearing it apart, deconstructing it, but in a way it felt like I was freeing her. I gave her her first real bath in years. In the process of removing that decal I felt like I was earning her respect. Like the Karate Kid..."wax on, wax off Daniel son."

I didn't get to paint her this weekend. In a way I'm sad about that, but in a way I'm not. I'm glad we had time to sit with each other and reconnect. I was reminded of her origins which I think will serve me well as I shape her future. Thank you Purple Grape.


Funny Alex story....
We got in the Purple Grape (a '96 Geo that has no power steering) to go to the ice cream story with my sister Anna. There was a truck parked behind us, and in my very bad no-power steering driving skills I was trying not to back into it. This meant it took me a couple of tries (I think I did a 6 point turn) before we were able to drive off. As I was preforming this highly awkward maneuver Alex asked, "Are we going to drive this car in the parade that is on TV?" I really hadn't thought about it much so I just said, "I don't know, I guess."
"Well, then," Alex said, "I hope it doesn't have a lot of turns."
I just had to ask, "why not?"
With out hesitation, and in all sincerity she flat out said, "Cause I'm going to be riding in the car and I care about what I look like."

Adventures in Art-caring

The saga of the art car begins. Art never works the way you intend it. This art car has gotten off to rough start. It began yesterday. Of course, as always I tried to pack way to much into a Saturday, further proof that working 5 days and playing 2 just isn't the kind of schedule I need.

The day started with breakfast at Denny's with my parents. That was fun as always. It's my mom birthday on Tuesday so this is her birthday weekend and we are all subject to her whims. After that we were off to home depot, then hobby lobby. We had to stop by Heather's, of course to wish her well on her cruise. A quick stop by Alex's grandmother's house to pick up her Aunt (who's 11) took longer than planed. Her uncle is in town for the weekend. Alex ended up staying there while I went on.

After washing and sanding the car it was time to test paint. That is when it became clear. The sticker needs to come off. So it was a trip to auto parts store and then the hardware store to get more supplies. After that we started to work on it again. My dad, in all his wonderful wisdom came outside. "I don't think that is a sticker, I think it's just painted on." No, moron it's a sticker. I'm, sitting here, a millimeter a way from the car, I can tell it's a sticker. It's peeling off (although slowly). The thing is most definitely a sticker. I swear the man has to put his two cents into every situation. Living with my parents wouldn't be half as frustrating if he would just shut up once and awhile. But I digress.

I'm still working on the sticker. My expectations have gone from having two rainbows on it by the end of the weekend to have the sticker off, and if I'm lucky, some primer on. We shall see though. I can here my parents cleaning house. I'm just waiting for them to find me an whine that I'm not helping. My mom will freak when she sees me walking outside. Oh well.

i'm the . . .

by Katy © 2007

outside

the world has

been swallowed

by night, and

sleep echos
through the house.

but the swish of

distant cars
remind me

my light is

not alone.

so i feed

these words to

the page and

let the fibers

drink in the ink

with hope

that one day,

something will appear.

until then,

the feel of

a pen in my hand
scratching out letters

is enough.

~ Katy

side affects

poem and photo by Katy © 2008

did that just happen?

did vomit just exit my body
through my sinuses?

ok, that was new.

the kind of thing that only happens
to people cool enough to join
British Punk Bands.
like Sid and Nancy or
Jimmy Hendrix, who chocked
on his own vomit, and died.

the kind of gross tale that
always kept me from doing drugs.

i never wanted to know
the pain of acid running threw my nose.
is this what it is like to snort crack?

it's weird to KNOW
that this is even possible.

not just a story
told by survivors of Studio 54,
its a sick, bizarre, twisted oddity
and i still feel the burn.

Fierce!

Christian Siriano during judging of the Project Runway Finale.

(photo from Bravotv.com)

Normally I am not one to get caught up in fashion or reality TV. Bravo's Project Runway has been the exception to that rule since season 1. This season saw a lot of great talent with out all the drama that can be tempting for producers to play up. I had my favorites along the way. Chris, I'm sorry you didn't make the finale cut. But my daughter Alex picked her favorite from the start and has cheered him on ever since. It was because of this she got to stay up late to see the finale. (Normally she just watches the previous week's show that is re-run the hour before.) She jumped and screamed and cheered when he was announced the winner.

His designs were amazing and that finale gown was jaw dropping.

Christian you are fierce!

Celebrate with Art

Disney's Animal Kingdom by Katy © 2008

I saw my oncologist on Monday. I have been dealing with cancer off and on for several years now, and Monday I was given another clean bill of health. Next month will be the 1 year anniversary of my last tumor. Levenback said that he is "cautiously optimistic." He'll convert my monthly blood test to bi-monthly and see me in 5 months instead of 3. I'll take it.

Now I just need to get out of the mode of being freaked out every time a test comes up or I get a head ache. I read once where a guy compared it to Russian roulette. Click or Bang. He would always say. It's really true. In an instant one test can turn your world upside down. One bad result can catapult you into survivor mode. You never know which test that will be. You never know if one day they will tell you to never come back again.

Anyway, I'm celebrating my step towards freedom by starting my art car this weekend. I've already started getting flack from my parents. They are afraid it won't look spectacular. My last one didn't. They don't get that that is not the point. Its the idea of creation that is so appealing. If I had to worry about what it was going to look like I don't think I'd ever touch a brush again. I can already feel the energies racing through my mind. Creation is here once again.

Self Portiat

by Katy, ©2008

If all the land we walk on is holy,

I don't know where to stand.

Into the Wind

Life Cafe, East Village
Manhattan
© 2007 by Michael

In my younger days
I created a right of passage,
and leaving everything behind,
even myself,
I jumped into the wind.

I've given birth since then,
and been assured of death.

I tried to pick a dream
from a catologe
and wrap myself in peace,

but here I am, again
listening to the wind.

~ by Katy
©2008

Make Peace, Not War

Anti-war poster, 1969, photo by Michael © 2006

Yesterday my daughter's father talked to her about changing her name. She has his last name at the moment. It was the name I gave her when she was born.

Now he is changing his last name. It is a name he chose, the last name of his step-father who is no longer in any of our lives. He first changed it from his father's last name. His father was never in his life. Now he's picked a new name, Allen. The madian name of his material grandmother. I guess his great grandfather is far back enough that he never had a chance let his great grandson down.

The thing is, my daughter's father takes a very hands off approach when it comes to his relationship with her. I won't say he doesn't want to be a part of her life, but I will say that really, he's just not. I know he has all sorts of reasons for this and what ever they are, I have to say I don't care.

I want my daughter to have my last name because for one, it means something. My last name is so rare that I know everyone in this country who has it, and yes, they are all related to me. She is being entertained by his family, but she is being raised my mine. I am the one that is dealing with all the crappy parts of being a parent, not him. I'm the one taking time off work to see her square dance at school and using my weekends to help her complete her projects. If nothing else, can't I complain that I'm the one paying for everything? After all, if companies can buy the naming rights to football staduims, shouldn't one be able to buy the right to name their child?

If only life were so simple. If only he had the sense to talk to me before blurting it out to her. I could have said, "Your dad is changing his last name, and you are going to get to have mine!" She would have gone for it. Instead she wants to take his name. She wants her monogram to be A.A.

A big part of me wants to call him up and cuss him out. I want to put my foot down and shout, "You will have my name! Don't you know how worthless he is?" More to the point, I feel betrayed. In my own childish way I feel she has picked her dad with his trips to Hawaii and Build-a-Bear over me and my fusing about grades and bedtimes. I feel like Claire Danes in Brokendown Palace, that movie where she was stopped in Thailand and thrown in jail with out understanding why. Now I am caught in a system that I don't understand, and I'm not real sure what I'm suppose to do next. How do I maneuver my way through this without having my life sentence converted to the death penalty?

Not Our Problem

The King sat with his Adviser eating honey on puffed rice.
As they ate they leaned from the palace window and watched the street below.
They talked about this and that.
The King, not paying attention to what he was doing,
let a drop of honey fall onto the windowsill.

"Oh Sire, let me wipe that up," offered the Adviser.
"Never mind," said the King.
"It is not our problem.
The servants will clean it later."

As the two continued to dine on the honey and puffed rice,
the drop of honey slowly began to drip down the windowsill.
At last it fell with a plop onto the street below.

Soon a fly had landed on the drop of honey and begun his own meal.
Immediately a gecko sprang from under the palace and with a flip
of his long tongue swallowed the fly.
But the cat had seen the gecko and punced.
Then a dog sprang forward and attacked the cat!

"Sire, there seems to be a cat and dog fight in the street.
Should we call someone to stop it?"
"Never mind," said the King.
"It's not our problem"

So the two continued to munch their honey and puffed rice.
Meanwhile the cat's owner had arrived and was beating the dog.
The dog's owner ran up and began to beat the cat.
Soon the two were beating each other.

"Sire, there are two persons fighting in the street now.
Shouldn't we send someone to break this up?"
The King lazily looked from the window.
"Never mind.
It's not our problem."

The friends of the cat's owner gathered and began to cheer him on.
The friends of the dog's owner began to cherr her on as well.
Soon both groups entered the fight and attacked each other.

"Sire, a number of people are fighting in the street now.
Perhaps we should call someone to break this up."
The King was too lazy even to look.
You can guess what he said.
"Never mind.
It's not our problem."

Now soldiers arrived on the scene.
At first they tried to break up the fighting.
But when they heard the cause of the fight some sided with the cat's owner.
Others sided with the dog's owner.
Soon the soildiers too had joined the fight.

With the soldiers involved, the fight erupted into civil war.
Houses were burned down.
People were harmed.
And the palace itself was set afire and burned to the ground.
The King and his Adviser stood surveying the ruins.
"Pherhaps," said the King,
"I was wrong?"
Perhaps the drop of honey WAS our problem."

~A Tale from Burma and Thailand
(as told by Margaret Read Macdonald in Peace Tales World Folktales to Talk About)