BFFH 2
BFFH - 2
Requiem for my patience.
"What do you mean I didn't get my holiday pay?!?!"
"You were scheduled to work the day after and well, you didn't" says the manager type, fearing the worst (he plans ahead, this one)
"That's absurd! I was sick!", white-knuckling the hammer in my hand.
"I never got a doctor's excuse from you so I have to go by what I know.", he bumbles, displaying the first signs of a stroke or perhaps readying himself for the blow to the skull.
"A doctor's note you say? So if I get this note, I'll get paid then?", I say, trying to recall where I put the stamp I stole from the drawer in my shrink's desk.
"Yeah, I suppose you could."
I smell defeat. Blood in the water.
"Very good, give me an hour"
I grab my coat and head for the door, knocking over the precariously perched cup of coffee on the power supply near his desk and slam the door.
BZZZZT
I hope he didn't need his desktop for anything today. Meh, a small price to pay for a skip to my step.
*1 hour and 30 minutes later*
"I gave you an hour, you've been gone over an hour and a half" He burbles.
"No... I've been gone 4 cigarettes, 1 comic section, 3-15 minute phone calls, and a snow cone"
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing... I have that note."
I hand him the crisply folded note that smells of kibble.
"Why is there a dog on the letterhead?" He asks and looks at me with that vacant expression I've came to love.
"What? Oh, he really likes animals." I say while looking at his caramel coated powercord.
"Well, I suppose everything is in order so I'll send off your holiday pay."
"That's splendid! I'm going to take a break for a while and wash your car."
"Wash my car? Why?"
"Will windex remove pig's blood?"
"Huh?"
"Nevermind, you should be more careful when you drive. Pigs running about unattended, you should be ashamed"
"Go back to work"
"I am working"
"I think I may call your doctor, just so I know this is legit."
"Suit yourself. I wouldn't bother him right now though, he seemed busy when I went into his office. Of course, this is the breeding season."
"Excuse me?"
"Nevermind all that, make sure I get paid."
*Slam*
He rings the number on the letterhead...
"Southwest Drive Animal Hospital, how can I help you?"
He said "A" doctor, I can only go by what I know. :D
-Disclaimer- All people, actions, and animals contained herein are completely fictional and sputtered thoughts from the mind of the author. No one was harmed during the creation of this dialogue (unless, of course, I don't get my holiday pay)
Friday, November 21, 2008
BFFH 1
BFFH 1
This was my first whack at these, written perhaps 5 or 6 months ago...
B.F.F.H. *Passing the buck, a lost art*
First of all, today I go into work...late, well not really late, but late nonetheless, only to be greeted by the smiling face of my co-worker who has just put in her notice. Ah, admiration and the green-eyed monster of envy. She tells me how the meeting with the manager type went and how she couldn't wait to leave. I hate her! So instead of doing what Nena usually does in this situation (telling her that she is leaving me at ground zero and how many different ways she could shove her laptop into her ass) I decided to play the non-confrontational card. Lo and behold it actually works to my advantage, so I shove the card back into the box for future use. She proceeds to tell me how many perks she has at this new job and how her schedule will be flexible and that she can kiss my... wait, that's not what she said... moving on...
While she is going into horrid detail about her new office the phone rings... bear in mind here, this IS 9:30 in the morning, and I am anything but a morning person... being that as it is I stroll to the phone and say, "Frame shop" (careful to never give my name in case of incident) The voice on the other end ever so timidly says, "Yes, I'd like to see if my framing order is ready." Since I'm feeling particularly helpful today, I say, "Name?" She gives me her name (and spells it, because I'm that stupid) I look and *gasp* it's not finished. I wait a few more minutes hoping the Muzak that is playing in her ear for the past 10 minutes will numb the shock of what I'm about to tell her.
I go into the break room and grab a soda, gab at the older women who work there and then finally make it back to the phone. I pick up the receiver and say, "Ma'am?" she replies with, "Yes?" and I say in my most cynically sympathetic voice, "Seems your order isn't completed as of yet, we are short handed and very high volume, but I would be happy to call you as soon as it is completed." I pause, (job well done) While I'm patting myself on the back she breaks up my self congratulatory parade with "That's not my problem" *Oh! Feisty!* So I tell her I'm going to connect her to the manager and then hang up. Apparently this wasn't sufficient enough for her and she actually calls back. Instead of asking for framing she goes straight for the jugular...she asks for the manager type.
A few moments later, the manager type strolls back into the frame shop with quite a displeased look upon his face. Me being the caring person I am...ignored his presence and finished my soda. He looks at me and asks if I just talked to L**** S*******. I stare at him blankly *A look I have perfected in my years there* and claim complete ignorance. So he goes into detail about what she told him. Instead of letting him ramble for 20 minutes or more, I interrupt him mid-sentence to tell him that I do recall my co-worker mentioned her and that he should talk to her.
Seems this was sufficient enough to allow me time to nap behind my table while he tracked her down. I detest pissy customeres especially when they are complaining about a FRAMING order being a day late. This isn't your car, your child or your kidney...get a handle on yourself.
*All events, people, and napping contained in this entry are completely fictional and are in no way related to or taken from any real events*
(My raise time is coming up soon)
This was my first whack at these, written perhaps 5 or 6 months ago...
B.F.F.H. *Passing the buck, a lost art*
First of all, today I go into work...late, well not really late, but late nonetheless, only to be greeted by the smiling face of my co-worker who has just put in her notice. Ah, admiration and the green-eyed monster of envy. She tells me how the meeting with the manager type went and how she couldn't wait to leave. I hate her! So instead of doing what Nena usually does in this situation (telling her that she is leaving me at ground zero and how many different ways she could shove her laptop into her ass) I decided to play the non-confrontational card. Lo and behold it actually works to my advantage, so I shove the card back into the box for future use. She proceeds to tell me how many perks she has at this new job and how her schedule will be flexible and that she can kiss my... wait, that's not what she said... moving on...
While she is going into horrid detail about her new office the phone rings... bear in mind here, this IS 9:30 in the morning, and I am anything but a morning person... being that as it is I stroll to the phone and say, "Frame shop" (careful to never give my name in case of incident) The voice on the other end ever so timidly says, "Yes, I'd like to see if my framing order is ready." Since I'm feeling particularly helpful today, I say, "Name?" She gives me her name (and spells it, because I'm that stupid) I look and *gasp* it's not finished. I wait a few more minutes hoping the Muzak that is playing in her ear for the past 10 minutes will numb the shock of what I'm about to tell her.
I go into the break room and grab a soda, gab at the older women who work there and then finally make it back to the phone. I pick up the receiver and say, "Ma'am?" she replies with, "Yes?" and I say in my most cynically sympathetic voice, "Seems your order isn't completed as of yet, we are short handed and very high volume, but I would be happy to call you as soon as it is completed." I pause, (job well done) While I'm patting myself on the back she breaks up my self congratulatory parade with "That's not my problem" *Oh! Feisty!* So I tell her I'm going to connect her to the manager and then hang up. Apparently this wasn't sufficient enough for her and she actually calls back. Instead of asking for framing she goes straight for the jugular...she asks for the manager type.
A few moments later, the manager type strolls back into the frame shop with quite a displeased look upon his face. Me being the caring person I am...ignored his presence and finished my soda. He looks at me and asks if I just talked to L**** S*******. I stare at him blankly *A look I have perfected in my years there* and claim complete ignorance. So he goes into detail about what she told him. Instead of letting him ramble for 20 minutes or more, I interrupt him mid-sentence to tell him that I do recall my co-worker mentioned her and that he should talk to her.
Seems this was sufficient enough to allow me time to nap behind my table while he tracked her down. I detest pissy customeres especially when they are complaining about a FRAMING order being a day late. This isn't your car, your child or your kidney...get a handle on yourself.
*All events, people, and napping contained in this entry are completely fictional and are in no way related to or taken from any real events*
(My raise time is coming up soon)
The Memories of a Romantic
(Written by me 2 years ago)
After a "conversation" I had with my ex husband last night, I've came to a conclusion. Other than being thankful we are divorced and his inane babble only has to be heard by me on rare occassions and I always have the option to hang up; Republicans, for the most part, are heartless swine. They go through their entire lives reading statistics and resting completely on logic and reason (or their version of). Much like drones, they are incapable of accepting the views of others no matter how much "sense" they make. I recall a group of people who accepted the actions of their leader no matter how inhumane it was: I think they were called Nazis.
He also informed me that the way I'm raising Morrigan will cause her to become a victim in every definition of the word. I suppose feeding her soul and her heart will lead her to tragedy. But what splendid tragedy that could be! She will live not exist. She will love wholeheartedly. She will feel what I cannot and harbor compassion for all of mankind. What a beautiful creature she is. So different from him. He's cold and uncaring and reflects nothing but his own angst and bigotry. He changes who he is depending on who he is fixated with at the time. That is the true tragedy. Not knowing who you are... I can't imagine that fate. Aren't we all destined for tragedy in some form or another? My tragedy is that I forgive too often and forget more often still. I don't understand the uncaring nature of man or it's selfish acts. I want to live my own story.
--------------------
Last night, Morrigan and I danced in my basement to the soundtrack of moulin rouge. She started laughing so hard she fell in the floor and kept giggling. We danced and sang for almost an hour and a half, loudly and not caring for anyone who heard us. For that period of time, I could recall what being a child was like. To live completely in the moment. To love, laugh, sing and dance. That's elation I couldn't create on my own. She is my reminder that all of the anger, mistrust, and injustice in the world is not that important. In that moment, we were the only two people who existed...us and the music.
She stood in front of the full length mirror that stands in my living room and said,"Momma, I'm beautiful. I have brown hair and brown eyes and so do you. My friend Alicia has brown skin, she's beautiful too. Everyone is a different color, aren't they? Alicia looks like her mommy too."
This statement from her shocked me although I'm not sure why. So simply put and so honest. I told her,"Everyone is different, Morrigan. Even you and I. That's what makes us who we are. There is no normal, you should never want to be anyone but who you are. Everyone is amazing in their own right and we all have our part in the world."
She just looked at me and smiled and then said,"Yeah, I thought so. Mommy, are you happy?" and I said, "You make me happy." and she responds with, "No, I know I make you happy but when I'm not here, what makes you happy?" I said, "The idea that there is beauty in the world that will find me one day." again she smiled and said,
"Do you want to be in love?"
I didn't know what to say, amazing how a 4 year old child can ask the most abrasive questions in the most well meaning way.
"I don't think I'm cut out to be in love, Morrigan"
She frowned at me and said,
"Like the phantom?"
Again, stunned completely
"What do you mean?"
She looked back in the mirror and covered half of her face with her hand and simply said,
"He loved Christine, didn't he? But she didn't love him. There was something wrong with his face and he could be mean and she didn't understand why. His face wasn't so bad, mommy. Someone could have loved him and thought he was beautiful."
I was amazed by this, and at a loss for words. She noticed I didn't say anything about it and looked at me and said,
"It's alright mommy, sometimes you have to know what to see."
After a "conversation" I had with my ex husband last night, I've came to a conclusion. Other than being thankful we are divorced and his inane babble only has to be heard by me on rare occassions and I always have the option to hang up; Republicans, for the most part, are heartless swine. They go through their entire lives reading statistics and resting completely on logic and reason (or their version of). Much like drones, they are incapable of accepting the views of others no matter how much "sense" they make. I recall a group of people who accepted the actions of their leader no matter how inhumane it was: I think they were called Nazis.
He also informed me that the way I'm raising Morrigan will cause her to become a victim in every definition of the word. I suppose feeding her soul and her heart will lead her to tragedy. But what splendid tragedy that could be! She will live not exist. She will love wholeheartedly. She will feel what I cannot and harbor compassion for all of mankind. What a beautiful creature she is. So different from him. He's cold and uncaring and reflects nothing but his own angst and bigotry. He changes who he is depending on who he is fixated with at the time. That is the true tragedy. Not knowing who you are... I can't imagine that fate. Aren't we all destined for tragedy in some form or another? My tragedy is that I forgive too often and forget more often still. I don't understand the uncaring nature of man or it's selfish acts. I want to live my own story.
--------------------
Last night, Morrigan and I danced in my basement to the soundtrack of moulin rouge. She started laughing so hard she fell in the floor and kept giggling. We danced and sang for almost an hour and a half, loudly and not caring for anyone who heard us. For that period of time, I could recall what being a child was like. To live completely in the moment. To love, laugh, sing and dance. That's elation I couldn't create on my own. She is my reminder that all of the anger, mistrust, and injustice in the world is not that important. In that moment, we were the only two people who existed...us and the music.
She stood in front of the full length mirror that stands in my living room and said,"Momma, I'm beautiful. I have brown hair and brown eyes and so do you. My friend Alicia has brown skin, she's beautiful too. Everyone is a different color, aren't they? Alicia looks like her mommy too."
This statement from her shocked me although I'm not sure why. So simply put and so honest. I told her,"Everyone is different, Morrigan. Even you and I. That's what makes us who we are. There is no normal, you should never want to be anyone but who you are. Everyone is amazing in their own right and we all have our part in the world."
She just looked at me and smiled and then said,"Yeah, I thought so. Mommy, are you happy?" and I said, "You make me happy." and she responds with, "No, I know I make you happy but when I'm not here, what makes you happy?" I said, "The idea that there is beauty in the world that will find me one day." again she smiled and said,
"Do you want to be in love?"
I didn't know what to say, amazing how a 4 year old child can ask the most abrasive questions in the most well meaning way.
"I don't think I'm cut out to be in love, Morrigan"
She frowned at me and said,
"Like the phantom?"
Again, stunned completely
"What do you mean?"
She looked back in the mirror and covered half of her face with her hand and simply said,
"He loved Christine, didn't he? But she didn't love him. There was something wrong with his face and he could be mean and she didn't understand why. His face wasn't so bad, mommy. Someone could have loved him and thought he was beautiful."
I was amazed by this, and at a loss for words. She noticed I didn't say anything about it and looked at me and said,
"It's alright mommy, sometimes you have to know what to see."
A Play on Pain
Have you ever watched someone speak about a problem they are having and watch the inner struggle? It's easy to see. Their facial expression changes, hand gestures become more fluid and their eyes cloud over. Venting is a lost art form. It's the shedding of a skin that no longer suits you. So many people take for granted those they have to witness these chips tumble off. And even more people have no one to to snap the pictures. It pains me to see someone I love bear the burden of the entire world on her tiny shoulders and to think to myself that there's nothing I can do to ease her torment. I'd take it from her if I could because, of course, my shoulders are much stronger and are accustomed to the weight. You can care too much. I've noticed this over the past two days. You are only accountable for YOUR actions and not those of others. She cannot be the closet in which they house their skeletons. Nor should she be. Seeing someone cry because they cannot, as a single individual, cure all that ails the world (her world) is tragic and disheartening. I want to say to her, "Just stop doing it." but I cannot. These aspects are what make up her personality and flow. You can't blame yourself for a car accident because you sold them the car and you are not responsible for saving someone from themselves. You cannot help someone who is not willing to do anything about their situation. A victim is a victim and in some instances become the predator instead of the prey. Preying on the emotions and love of those close to them. It's a vicious cycle of self loathing that can only be stopped by one person, them. This pebble stops spinning for no man. And life began while you were busy worrying about other things. Love, in all it's splendor rests solely on the premise that it is interchangeable. Love gives but from itself. It isn't a parasite and host situation.
The Breath of Acceptance
To see amid the thorns that perfect petal.
To hear through the screams that perfect note.
I think that perhaps I was living in the preface of a sordid novel. To see what would come, how it would unfold, and fear turning the page. And how the fear itself crippled me. I became so bitter and angst filled that the word love itself took on a whole new meaning. That word, it's sound, and by the blow of how it was delivered had the ability, in every right, to topple countries, destroy lives and set the mind ablaze. Though what should I fear? Losing my grip on my mind? Sharing the burden I have alone carried for so long? As the time passes, the burden increases and the same shoulders which bore this weight grow weaker and the shifting of life has waivered their hold. I long to rest, to shed the terror, pain, and anxiety which has been my second skin. The inability to reason when in the grip of an emotion has a staggering effect on my psyche. It frightens me and so much I fear. That being said... I'm happy. Shocking not only myself but those close to me. And in being happy, I feel guilt. A guilt placed long ago when in every fashion I was conditioned that everything comes at a price and love is no exception. What price am I willing to pay? Perhaps the price is loss, but of what? Losing the one thing that has been preserving me for so long. Apathy. Apathy has been what applies to most people in my life, save a few. Unconditional love is the myth, the proverbial unicorn. Why do I feel wrong for being happy and in so, growing more so by the day. To feel, to pine and long for someone's presence even if nothing was said. To sleep easier at night knowing they are there. The longing for a gesture or a simple "good morning". I've never been around someone that amazes me more with every passing day, that I adore with each word said and who can teach me to see things differently. No amount of poetry or dead french authors can teach me this. I enjoyed being alone but now I wonder how I survived.
To hear through the screams that perfect note.
I think that perhaps I was living in the preface of a sordid novel. To see what would come, how it would unfold, and fear turning the page. And how the fear itself crippled me. I became so bitter and angst filled that the word love itself took on a whole new meaning. That word, it's sound, and by the blow of how it was delivered had the ability, in every right, to topple countries, destroy lives and set the mind ablaze. Though what should I fear? Losing my grip on my mind? Sharing the burden I have alone carried for so long? As the time passes, the burden increases and the same shoulders which bore this weight grow weaker and the shifting of life has waivered their hold. I long to rest, to shed the terror, pain, and anxiety which has been my second skin. The inability to reason when in the grip of an emotion has a staggering effect on my psyche. It frightens me and so much I fear. That being said... I'm happy. Shocking not only myself but those close to me. And in being happy, I feel guilt. A guilt placed long ago when in every fashion I was conditioned that everything comes at a price and love is no exception. What price am I willing to pay? Perhaps the price is loss, but of what? Losing the one thing that has been preserving me for so long. Apathy. Apathy has been what applies to most people in my life, save a few. Unconditional love is the myth, the proverbial unicorn. Why do I feel wrong for being happy and in so, growing more so by the day. To feel, to pine and long for someone's presence even if nothing was said. To sleep easier at night knowing they are there. The longing for a gesture or a simple "good morning". I've never been around someone that amazes me more with every passing day, that I adore with each word said and who can teach me to see things differently. No amount of poetry or dead french authors can teach me this. I enjoyed being alone but now I wonder how I survived.
The Dating Game
Nena's Guide to Keeping a Boyfriend (Section - 1)
I decided to throw together this short guide of how to "keep" a boyfriend. Afterall, I'm the expert on relationships. (Go ahead, chuckle, I did...)
Section - 1
The Dating Game
We all know how it feels to court. The age old, mind numbing assault to the senses that some actually make reference to as *fun*. It's a proverbial tug-o-war between you and the counterpart in who can dig up the most dirt first and use said dirt to their advantage. Here are a few pointers to make this transition period a little less painful.
1a) Never date anyone within your group of friends or anyone related to said friends. Dating a "buddy" is a mistake made by those who too often mistake friendship for romance. It's just an all around bad deal. Everyone in your circle will be more involved in the relationship than you are AND not to mention the awkward moments when you see two of your friends making out on a couch during a group "Kevin Smith" festival. Moresoover, the break-up will, no doubt, be beyond nasty.
2a) Avoid meeting their parents for as long as you possibly can. No matter how close they are to them, you will hate them. Women never falter when it comes to passing undue judgement on the female who dates her son. Your every blemish becomes a physical handicap, a slip of the tongue becomes an act of civil war, and god help you if your shoes don't match your belt. No matter what you do, what you say or whether or not you fold your napkin in your lap, the she-beast will destest the very earth you tread upon and that earth, my friend, is now hers. Not to mention she will henceforth refer to herself as an expert on your relationship and never waiver in donating unwanted advice to your significant other whenever the chance presents itself, be it at Thanksgiving over cranberry sauce or at 3 a.m. when you are just finishing filling her out like an application and you forgot to turn your phone off. Those will be dark days.
3a) Set ground rules. Let them know where they fall in the hierarchy that is your life. For example:
/ My Family ..
/ My Friends ..
/ My Job/School ..
/ My Space ..
/ Them ..
Now, do you see where they fall? It's extremelly important that you maintain the structure that is your life. If you neglect any of the above elements then it, in turn, will effect any relationship you have. And keep in mind, above all else, your friends were there before, during, and no doubt, after...
Check back later for the next section of Nena's Guide to Keeping a Boyfriend
I decided to throw together this short guide of how to "keep" a boyfriend. Afterall, I'm the expert on relationships. (Go ahead, chuckle, I did...)
Section - 1
The Dating Game
We all know how it feels to court. The age old, mind numbing assault to the senses that some actually make reference to as *fun*. It's a proverbial tug-o-war between you and the counterpart in who can dig up the most dirt first and use said dirt to their advantage. Here are a few pointers to make this transition period a little less painful.
1a) Never date anyone within your group of friends or anyone related to said friends. Dating a "buddy" is a mistake made by those who too often mistake friendship for romance. It's just an all around bad deal. Everyone in your circle will be more involved in the relationship than you are AND not to mention the awkward moments when you see two of your friends making out on a couch during a group "Kevin Smith" festival. Moresoover, the break-up will, no doubt, be beyond nasty.
2a) Avoid meeting their parents for as long as you possibly can. No matter how close they are to them, you will hate them. Women never falter when it comes to passing undue judgement on the female who dates her son. Your every blemish becomes a physical handicap, a slip of the tongue becomes an act of civil war, and god help you if your shoes don't match your belt. No matter what you do, what you say or whether or not you fold your napkin in your lap, the she-beast will destest the very earth you tread upon and that earth, my friend, is now hers. Not to mention she will henceforth refer to herself as an expert on your relationship and never waiver in donating unwanted advice to your significant other whenever the chance presents itself, be it at Thanksgiving over cranberry sauce or at 3 a.m. when you are just finishing filling her out like an application and you forgot to turn your phone off. Those will be dark days.
3a) Set ground rules. Let them know where they fall in the hierarchy that is your life. For example:
/ My Family ..
/ My Friends ..
/ My Job/School ..
/ My Space ..
/ Them ..
Now, do you see where they fall? It's extremelly important that you maintain the structure that is your life. If you neglect any of the above elements then it, in turn, will effect any relationship you have. And keep in mind, above all else, your friends were there before, during, and no doubt, after...
Check back later for the next section of Nena's Guide to Keeping a Boyfriend
Indiana Danny and the Green Huffy
Our adventure begins in a pawn shop on the outermost edge of a town of depraved sexual acts and moral decedance. Not just any pawn shop, mind you, but *the* pawn shop. The same pawn shop where Indiana Danny defeated the dreaded Professor NoName. Amid the many curiosities stands our hero. Browsing through the latest additions to the two wheeled transportation and staring longingly out of the nearest tempra smudged window, he thinks to himself, "If only there were something I could do to cure global warming and the rapid melting of the polar ice caps..." And while mindlessly spinning the wheel of a "gently used" green huffy, it occurs to him, "Damnit! I could buy a bicycle! Instead of driving 2 miles to work, I could ride it and lower the global temperature by at least 2 degrees! Not to mention, I'd save money on my car insurance by switching to geico." Dashing quickly to the counter and avoiding falling dvd cases along the way by climbing onto the nearest computer tower and sprinting off in a haphazard fashion, our hero grabs the pimple-faced clerk by the shirt collar, knocking the latest edition of "Throb" out of his sweat drenched hands and screams, "I want that huffy! It's of dire consequence that I have it! The safety of our ice caps are at stake here!" Gleaming about his purchase and pushing the "gently used" bicycle from the shop, he stops a moment on the sidewalk and thinks, "If only I could do more."
Pandora's Locker Slammed Open
I'm guilty. Guilty of using my friends. Guilty of neglecting my family. Guilty of doing the least amount of work possible. Guilty of squandering my time. Guilty of resenting those who were merely being themselves. Guilty of thinking I'm a significant person. Guilty of expecting too much from everyone. Guilty of not taking the time to understand those close to me. Guilty of apathy. Guilty of overestimating my abilities. Guilty of wanting others to bow to my whim. Guilty of not giving anything of myself. Guilty of expecting the worst from every situation. Guilty of seeing only the negative aspect of human nature and its inability to function without personal gain. Guilty of not seeing the proverbial rainbow for the storm. Guilty of living inside of my head. Guilty of not wanting to commit to anything for fear of making the wrong decision. Guilty of envy. Guilty of resenting the fact that there are things I will never obtain. Guilty of narcissism and self loathing within moments of one another. Guilty of not understanding who I am. Guilty of the inability to love unconditionally.
The unfortunate aspect of love is that there are always conditions, we are just normally not privy to them beforehand. The basis of love isn't tolerance, it's ignorance. The ignorance of the flaws within another person. Most of us can avoid said flaws by focusing on the strong points of that person. Then there are the small percentage who not only focus on them, but dwell. That personal stigmata can become our undoing. What is it we are afraid of? Realizing that the quirks found in others outweigh our own skeletons? Or that they too suffer the same ill fate we were sentenced to? Our only certainty is death. No matter the lining, a pine box holds no comfort. Why is it impossible for some of us to merely cover our eyes and jump? Is it the landing we fear or the fall itself? A sweeping feeling of helplessness and inability to control the outcome midair. No matter how you twist your body to brace for the fall you cannot possibly predict how badly it will hurt, only pray that it won't be the last time you leap. I have felt love, unconditional love, only once in my life. Albeit the life mentioned consists of a mere 26 years, it has been an enlightening journey. Filled to the brim with hypocrisy and disappointment. It's amazing how complete you are when you love blindly. No one could fathom how it effects another person. To know that the full circle ends and begins with you and they are your center. The grail by which all others are compared. Even when patience is lost you feel instant shame and regret. Nothing has humbled me so much. Every year that passes, the glass becomes more clear and I can see what is to pass. Her love has breached the fort and allowed others easy access. My barriers are worn and shift with each day. Sadly enough I know that our closeness now will falter over the years. I hear people say, "You're supposed to be her mother, not her friend. She doesn't need a friend." The real statement should be, "Who doesn't need a friend." I maintain the lines of parent/child relationships. She is allotted to speak her mind freely until she infringes on the rights or feelings of someone else. She has personal choices and those freedoms allow her to see cause and effect. Dictating the actions of your child cripples them. You cannot look at a mound of clay and declare, "Be a bowl!" Shouldn't your station as a mother consist of outlining proper conduct, molding them into someone with compassion, understanding, and tolerance? You are god to a child. The judge, jury and executioner. I've felt the icy glare of an uncaring parent. It chills me to this day. We are not friends. I no longer seek her approval because I've realized long ago that it is impossible to obtain. Ever forcing your child to achieve no matter the cost merely forces them to look inward at themselves and question their ability rather than glare at the face of a dictator who bore you. It has a devastating effect. I appear cold and apathetic to a number of different people. This apathy is a product of the realization that your opinion, no matter how strong your conviction, has no meaning unless I give it significance.
I value the opinion of a handful of people and these people have earned their place in my life. I value Vinnie's opinion for his brash and realistic outlook. I value Rebekah's for its innocence and caring. I value Trey's for its insight and the human aspect. I value Brandy's because it allows me to see things through unjaded eyes. No matter how I try to make myself not speak to them, it's impossible. All of these people have flaws. And it's because of these flaws that I adore them. Rationality be damned.
The unfortunate aspect of love is that there are always conditions, we are just normally not privy to them beforehand. The basis of love isn't tolerance, it's ignorance. The ignorance of the flaws within another person. Most of us can avoid said flaws by focusing on the strong points of that person. Then there are the small percentage who not only focus on them, but dwell. That personal stigmata can become our undoing. What is it we are afraid of? Realizing that the quirks found in others outweigh our own skeletons? Or that they too suffer the same ill fate we were sentenced to? Our only certainty is death. No matter the lining, a pine box holds no comfort. Why is it impossible for some of us to merely cover our eyes and jump? Is it the landing we fear or the fall itself? A sweeping feeling of helplessness and inability to control the outcome midair. No matter how you twist your body to brace for the fall you cannot possibly predict how badly it will hurt, only pray that it won't be the last time you leap. I have felt love, unconditional love, only once in my life. Albeit the life mentioned consists of a mere 26 years, it has been an enlightening journey. Filled to the brim with hypocrisy and disappointment. It's amazing how complete you are when you love blindly. No one could fathom how it effects another person. To know that the full circle ends and begins with you and they are your center. The grail by which all others are compared. Even when patience is lost you feel instant shame and regret. Nothing has humbled me so much. Every year that passes, the glass becomes more clear and I can see what is to pass. Her love has breached the fort and allowed others easy access. My barriers are worn and shift with each day. Sadly enough I know that our closeness now will falter over the years. I hear people say, "You're supposed to be her mother, not her friend. She doesn't need a friend." The real statement should be, "Who doesn't need a friend." I maintain the lines of parent/child relationships. She is allotted to speak her mind freely until she infringes on the rights or feelings of someone else. She has personal choices and those freedoms allow her to see cause and effect. Dictating the actions of your child cripples them. You cannot look at a mound of clay and declare, "Be a bowl!" Shouldn't your station as a mother consist of outlining proper conduct, molding them into someone with compassion, understanding, and tolerance? You are god to a child. The judge, jury and executioner. I've felt the icy glare of an uncaring parent. It chills me to this day. We are not friends. I no longer seek her approval because I've realized long ago that it is impossible to obtain. Ever forcing your child to achieve no matter the cost merely forces them to look inward at themselves and question their ability rather than glare at the face of a dictator who bore you. It has a devastating effect. I appear cold and apathetic to a number of different people. This apathy is a product of the realization that your opinion, no matter how strong your conviction, has no meaning unless I give it significance.
I value the opinion of a handful of people and these people have earned their place in my life. I value Vinnie's opinion for his brash and realistic outlook. I value Rebekah's for its innocence and caring. I value Trey's for its insight and the human aspect. I value Brandy's because it allows me to see things through unjaded eyes. No matter how I try to make myself not speak to them, it's impossible. All of these people have flaws. And it's because of these flaws that I adore them. Rationality be damned.
The Brazen Edge
A lie in and of itself can seem harmless at first until it turns into a multitude of fabrications and slander. Where do these lies end? Moreover, what are you going to do when the pieces of that quilt just will not fit together? You decide to defend your lies, but what lies deserve a defense? What motive could someone have to justify something that just isn't true? There are differences in not always being completely honest. If you tell someone that their hair looks great and it isn't true, that lie isn't causing direct harm. However, lying about the actions of someone else and twisting them into a devious predator with a taste for the brutal is, in every right, completely uncalled for and morally wrong. What does the creation of this lie make the creator? The callous and malicious root of this lie had to begin within the mind of the fabricator. Who is the monster?
With that being said, I want to get into the real reason for this blog. In the past I have caught myself befriending people under the impression that someone who isn't like me could possibly be the type of person I needed influence from. What happens when that person has no personality of their own? No convictions and no self respect? They absorb your personality. They adopt your persona. They destroy any and all faith you had left in humanity. Where do you draw the proverbial line? I have established friendships out of sheer pity for the other person in hopes of helping them find themselves. What if there is nothing to find? What if they are as empty as their life? I've mulled this over for a few days and have came to the conclusion that my only recourse is to sever all ties. Why would I want to be around someone who has absolutely no respect for anything for anyone. Who spares no one of an attack of words when their back is turned. No matter if they are family, friends, or someone who meant them no ill will. I've caught myself feeling sorry for these people but unfortunately nothing can be done. I have a distinct feeling that these things will never change and I feel only remorse for having had wasted my time trying to nurse something that would never grow.
With that being said, I want to get into the real reason for this blog. In the past I have caught myself befriending people under the impression that someone who isn't like me could possibly be the type of person I needed influence from. What happens when that person has no personality of their own? No convictions and no self respect? They absorb your personality. They adopt your persona. They destroy any and all faith you had left in humanity. Where do you draw the proverbial line? I have established friendships out of sheer pity for the other person in hopes of helping them find themselves. What if there is nothing to find? What if they are as empty as their life? I've mulled this over for a few days and have came to the conclusion that my only recourse is to sever all ties. Why would I want to be around someone who has absolutely no respect for anything for anyone. Who spares no one of an attack of words when their back is turned. No matter if they are family, friends, or someone who meant them no ill will. I've caught myself feeling sorry for these people but unfortunately nothing can be done. I have a distinct feeling that these things will never change and I feel only remorse for having had wasted my time trying to nurse something that would never grow.
Don't Feed the Animals
Why is it so much easier to just keep your head down and go with the flow of things rather than raging against the current because you know in your heart of hearts that it flows in the wrong direction? People rarely shift to a different course, it's disillusioning and painful.
I was looking at the career board for the english department and it irked me. All of the fields sounded horribly boring but then again, so do most of the others. Why is it we feel as if we must accomplish something great, and we must go down a path that leads to more than mediocrity? I don't want to just collect a check and file in line behind the other drones. I want to achieve greatness somehow. By greatness, I mean something I can feel good about each night.
I suppose this thought process is similar to those who enter a medical field in hopes of curing cancer. Truth be told, even upon completing an internship they will more than likely enter into a practice and become the puppet for drug companies and bowing to the whim of insurance companies. What happened to "Do no harm"?
I've also noticed something else. The people who are usually to blame are enveloped in a glorious cloud of righteous indignation when someone else shows even a slight hint of mishap. It's sickening to watch. I want to rip her face off.
Zealots in any form only perpetuate the cycle. They cure nothing. No matter how many stereotypes they shove people into.
Too bad the indians didn't feel the same way about immigration as we do now.
After I told Vinnie how I felt about my current situation, he said, "People who do great things often feel alone." I love Vinnie.
There are no "true friends", there are only people who are as equally stubborn as you are and are, more often than not, a bigger asshole.
That is all.
I was looking at the career board for the english department and it irked me. All of the fields sounded horribly boring but then again, so do most of the others. Why is it we feel as if we must accomplish something great, and we must go down a path that leads to more than mediocrity? I don't want to just collect a check and file in line behind the other drones. I want to achieve greatness somehow. By greatness, I mean something I can feel good about each night.
I suppose this thought process is similar to those who enter a medical field in hopes of curing cancer. Truth be told, even upon completing an internship they will more than likely enter into a practice and become the puppet for drug companies and bowing to the whim of insurance companies. What happened to "Do no harm"?
I've also noticed something else. The people who are usually to blame are enveloped in a glorious cloud of righteous indignation when someone else shows even a slight hint of mishap. It's sickening to watch. I want to rip her face off.
Zealots in any form only perpetuate the cycle. They cure nothing. No matter how many stereotypes they shove people into.
Too bad the indians didn't feel the same way about immigration as we do now.
After I told Vinnie how I felt about my current situation, he said, "People who do great things often feel alone." I love Vinnie.
There are no "true friends", there are only people who are as equally stubborn as you are and are, more often than not, a bigger asshole.
That is all.
You Thought It Too
Now we find out what we never wanted to know.
"Yes, your friends probably talk about you when you aren't around. No, he's probably not telling the truth. No, you aren't as important as you'd like to think you are."
This infantile mindset a majority of us possess has finally ran its course on me. I'm finding myself even more reluctant than usual to answer my phone. I have grown tired of the disgustingly accepted behavior exhibited by everyone around me. It is now okay to be a piggish asshole. Its admired when you possess the social skills of Atilla the Hun. In this "love the one you're with" society of emotional leeches and personality stunted imbeciles, I've declared a cease fire on any and all contact with these people.
Convictions have taken on a unicorn persona. A mythical idea that we all know of, but none possess. We're selfish and self serving. When did it become alright to lie just for the sake of doing it? Have we settled so snuggly on the bottom of the barrell that we don't see how pathetic we have become? That's right! Let's do absolutely nothing about it. Let's blame someone else for our personal shortcommings and the fact that we cannot stand up for anything, especially ourselves. This mindset has transformed into a plague. Instead of flesh, it rots the soul. The body count is growing and no one is stopping it.
"Yes, your friends probably talk about you when you aren't around. No, he's probably not telling the truth. No, you aren't as important as you'd like to think you are."
This infantile mindset a majority of us possess has finally ran its course on me. I'm finding myself even more reluctant than usual to answer my phone. I have grown tired of the disgustingly accepted behavior exhibited by everyone around me. It is now okay to be a piggish asshole. Its admired when you possess the social skills of Atilla the Hun. In this "love the one you're with" society of emotional leeches and personality stunted imbeciles, I've declared a cease fire on any and all contact with these people.
Convictions have taken on a unicorn persona. A mythical idea that we all know of, but none possess. We're selfish and self serving. When did it become alright to lie just for the sake of doing it? Have we settled so snuggly on the bottom of the barrell that we don't see how pathetic we have become? That's right! Let's do absolutely nothing about it. Let's blame someone else for our personal shortcommings and the fact that we cannot stand up for anything, especially ourselves. This mindset has transformed into a plague. Instead of flesh, it rots the soul. The body count is growing and no one is stopping it.
Sunspots and Robots
Do our actions dictate who we are or are they a portion of it?
Someone who takes the life of another is labeled as a murderer but is that "who" they are or is it merely an action? Where is the line that seperates action from generalization? Is there even a line?
We label ourselves constantly. I'm female, but that isn't who I am. I don't allow this label to dictate my actions or my thought process. I don't wear it proudly on a tshirt or display it on the bumper of my car.
Why do we, as people, hurry to catagorize ourselves? By doing this, does it somehow provide us with more comfort or a feeling of belonging to something or somewhere? No matter how odd, there are always others who have labeled themselves the same. A sense of brethren is established at this juncture. To belong is to feel completion. We are animals that thrive in family units.
What happens to the individual who finds no label that fully encompasses who they are and feels comfort nowhere? What is to be done with the realization that they have no one who sees things as they do or feels what they feel? Chaos is intoxicating but the hangover is heartbreaking.
Someone who takes the life of another is labeled as a murderer but is that "who" they are or is it merely an action? Where is the line that seperates action from generalization? Is there even a line?
We label ourselves constantly. I'm female, but that isn't who I am. I don't allow this label to dictate my actions or my thought process. I don't wear it proudly on a tshirt or display it on the bumper of my car.
Why do we, as people, hurry to catagorize ourselves? By doing this, does it somehow provide us with more comfort or a feeling of belonging to something or somewhere? No matter how odd, there are always others who have labeled themselves the same. A sense of brethren is established at this juncture. To belong is to feel completion. We are animals that thrive in family units.
What happens to the individual who finds no label that fully encompasses who they are and feels comfort nowhere? What is to be done with the realization that they have no one who sees things as they do or feels what they feel? Chaos is intoxicating but the hangover is heartbreaking.
My Obituary
Danena Crist, originally from Jonesboro, Arkansas, died recently in a freak jousting accident in Athens at the age of 84. Danena or "Nena" was a professor at a local university. Known for her obtuse and erractic behavior, she had been exiled from the states upon the completition of her degree from UCA in Conway, Arkansas. She had requested that she be creamated with 50 copies of Dr. Phil's latest book and the entire up-to-date Steven King collection. She was quoted as saying, "At least now, those books will be of use." Danena is survived by her daughter, who upon hearing of her mother's death, merely stated, "I'm not shocked." The ceremony will take place in the center of the Algora marketplace. Cigarettes and Mnt. Dew will be provided.
Painted Faces in so Many Places
More often than not, I fight a raging battle in my head with the overwhelming demons of nothingness and the tiny shimmer of what I recall as hope. Typically, the nothingness transforms the shimmer into a memory and then the onslaught of negative and defeating thoughts flood in. Due to these facts, I’ve ruined what beauty I did possess.
Regret is, for the most part, a stupid emotion. It serves no actual purpose but to remind us of just how human we are. We make mistakes, we overreact, and we love. Love is the most tragic emotion of all
Of everything considered to be permanent, none are. Everything shifts, changes, and disappears. Time itself is fleeting. No one instant is like the other and once gone, is gone forever. The plates of the earth shift and collide, ever changing the lay of the surface. We change, we shift, we love, and we suffer.
We all wish for some sort of stability. Change is upsetting, even if it is a means to an end. We are blind to the final reasoning, the final plan. We stumble through life seeking instant gratification even when there is none to be had. I’ve missed an opportunity and hopefully, it won’t happen again.
Regret is, for the most part, a stupid emotion. It serves no actual purpose but to remind us of just how human we are. We make mistakes, we overreact, and we love. Love is the most tragic emotion of all
Of everything considered to be permanent, none are. Everything shifts, changes, and disappears. Time itself is fleeting. No one instant is like the other and once gone, is gone forever. The plates of the earth shift and collide, ever changing the lay of the surface. We change, we shift, we love, and we suffer.
We all wish for some sort of stability. Change is upsetting, even if it is a means to an end. We are blind to the final reasoning, the final plan. We stumble through life seeking instant gratification even when there is none to be had. I’ve missed an opportunity and hopefully, it won’t happen again.
A Seemingly Good Intention
Kant suggests that the only thing good in and of itself is a good intent. The extent to which I agree with this is the moment the action is in motion, it is beyond your control. However, are any intentions ever selfless?
The main reason this question is set on repeat in my mind is because, as of late, I’ve discovered that everyone has an ulterior motive. I had someone pay me a visit yesterday. Kind enough, right? Well, that was up to the point where they told me their real reason for stopping by. Fishing for information. I know most of you know me fairly well and if he knew me as well as he thought, he would have known beforehand that this was a fruitless endeavor. I am not the rumormill nor do I aspire to be such. I find out what you know and tell you the same. You’ll leave feeling like you have "found out" what you wanted to know only later kicking yourself in the face when you realize that I was of absolutely no use to you and it was a considerable waste of both your time and mine.
I would prefer if I was privy to the actual intentions beforehand, no matter how selfish they are. I wouldn’t get as fucking angry. Besides, if I *knew* then suspecting everyone of being malicious wouldn’t be as draining... actually... it would be unnecessary. Ha! By god, man! Perfect!!
The main reason this question is set on repeat in my mind is because, as of late, I’ve discovered that everyone has an ulterior motive. I had someone pay me a visit yesterday. Kind enough, right? Well, that was up to the point where they told me their real reason for stopping by. Fishing for information. I know most of you know me fairly well and if he knew me as well as he thought, he would have known beforehand that this was a fruitless endeavor. I am not the rumormill nor do I aspire to be such. I find out what you know and tell you the same. You’ll leave feeling like you have "found out" what you wanted to know only later kicking yourself in the face when you realize that I was of absolutely no use to you and it was a considerable waste of both your time and mine.
I would prefer if I was privy to the actual intentions beforehand, no matter how selfish they are. I wouldn’t get as fucking angry. Besides, if I *knew* then suspecting everyone of being malicious wouldn’t be as draining... actually... it would be unnecessary. Ha! By god, man! Perfect!!
The Lollipop of Malcontent
During the past 4 weeks I have made it my duty to persuade Morrigan to come to the dark side of music. She came home one day announcing that Hannah Montana was the greatest rockstar ever. I felt a twitch in my eye and the anger mounted and took hold of my brain. My child! My child likes Hannah f#$@ing Montana?!?! How did this happen!?!?! Where was I at this pivotal point in her young life?!?! Since I let her stray from the flock, I felt it was my duty to correct this wrong. No child of mine will listen to Hannah Montana.
My first plan of attack was to explain to her that Hannah Montana wasn’t a real rockstar and that she was just pretending. This advancement was stunted by her reply of, "Well, I know her really name is Molly Cyrus." I then decided it was best to approach this from a logical standpoint. "Morrigan," I said, "You know that there are much better rockstars who actually play music." She looks at me sternly and says, "She DOES play music, what do you think it is?" I’m losing my grip! So I chimed in with, "I tell you what. If you will listen to the music I put on it, I’ll give you my old mp3 player." She perks up at this and agrees.
Later that night I comb through my music collection in search of kid friendly rock music and find quite a bit, shockingly enough. I load the Beatles, the Cranberries, No Doubt, the Buggles, All American Rejects, Panic! at the Disco, and Alanis Morrisette. I was trying to appeal to her six year old senses so don’t harp at me about the emo music. I’d rather her be emo than fall prey to that horrid pop nightmare.
The next day she spends hours listening to this music. I hear the high pitched hum to the chorus of, "Video killed the Radio star" from her bedroom. Moments later, I hear a squeal. She runs full speed into the kitchen and proclaims, "MOMMA! THIS GIRL WHO SINGS "i’M JUST A GIRL" IS WAY COOLER THAN HANNAH MONTANA!" Thank god! She likes No Doubt. That... I can handle. So now Morrigan is on a Gwen kick. My daughter belongs to me again. Crisis avoided.
My first plan of attack was to explain to her that Hannah Montana wasn’t a real rockstar and that she was just pretending. This advancement was stunted by her reply of, "Well, I know her really name is Molly Cyrus." I then decided it was best to approach this from a logical standpoint. "Morrigan," I said, "You know that there are much better rockstars who actually play music." She looks at me sternly and says, "She DOES play music, what do you think it is?" I’m losing my grip! So I chimed in with, "I tell you what. If you will listen to the music I put on it, I’ll give you my old mp3 player." She perks up at this and agrees.
Later that night I comb through my music collection in search of kid friendly rock music and find quite a bit, shockingly enough. I load the Beatles, the Cranberries, No Doubt, the Buggles, All American Rejects, Panic! at the Disco, and Alanis Morrisette. I was trying to appeal to her six year old senses so don’t harp at me about the emo music. I’d rather her be emo than fall prey to that horrid pop nightmare.
The next day she spends hours listening to this music. I hear the high pitched hum to the chorus of, "Video killed the Radio star" from her bedroom. Moments later, I hear a squeal. She runs full speed into the kitchen and proclaims, "MOMMA! THIS GIRL WHO SINGS "i’M JUST A GIRL" IS WAY COOLER THAN HANNAH MONTANA!" Thank god! She likes No Doubt. That... I can handle. So now Morrigan is on a Gwen kick. My daughter belongs to me again. Crisis avoided.
A Mother's Anthem
Over the past five years I have came to the realization that we, as mothers, have an overwhelming need to protect, mold, and guide.
Our children possess the eyes formed of our body but see differently than we do. Their brains are developed by us but function apart from us. Their hearts share a similar beat but experiences emotion within its own walls. We are the curator of another being who, because of us, can see, think, and feel as they choose to. Being a mother brings with it the delight of being able to witness a world which we had forgotten.
Children, as a whole, regret very little. Foreboding and fear do not cripple them as it does their older counterparts. They have, in their tiny hands, the ability to create without knowing, to love without fear, and to step foward without looking behind them. Everything is an adventure to them. They see possibilities and seek to secure them as their own. To hold, if not hug, the air of enchantment instead of snarling in its face. This innocence and bright eyed wonder of youth is a true treasure that is lost far too soon.
Children do not seek truth, they seek only beauty. Could it be that perhaps truth is beauty? The moon's phases to them, possess a magical and intoxicating appeal. Without former knowledge, any child could give you a reason for these phases that have, with it, beauty and cadence of thought. But fact? Fact holds no appeal for these scholars of beauty. Science strips the wonder from their world and brings with it doubt.
They love without this doubt. They do not question motive or entertain the possibility that love is tentative at best. They know only that today, they love and are loved. Children grasp the hand of kindness and carry it full swing. To love is to be held, to be enveloped with a blanket of contentment and to see the world with unjaded eyes.
To live in the presence of this vast and monumental force is overwhelming at times. I am not guarding, I have been the keeper of life. Instead of teaching, I have become the student of kindness and patience. Rather than molding, I am the river bed of the wild waters that flow from her. In thinking that I will be the example by which she lives, I have instead become the center by which this being gravitates. I can no more contain her ideas than she could mine. We live in harmony rather than two single forces striking out. We exist because of beauty and for beauty. Children embody this beauty.
Our children possess the eyes formed of our body but see differently than we do. Their brains are developed by us but function apart from us. Their hearts share a similar beat but experiences emotion within its own walls. We are the curator of another being who, because of us, can see, think, and feel as they choose to. Being a mother brings with it the delight of being able to witness a world which we had forgotten.
Children, as a whole, regret very little. Foreboding and fear do not cripple them as it does their older counterparts. They have, in their tiny hands, the ability to create without knowing, to love without fear, and to step foward without looking behind them. Everything is an adventure to them. They see possibilities and seek to secure them as their own. To hold, if not hug, the air of enchantment instead of snarling in its face. This innocence and bright eyed wonder of youth is a true treasure that is lost far too soon.
Children do not seek truth, they seek only beauty. Could it be that perhaps truth is beauty? The moon's phases to them, possess a magical and intoxicating appeal. Without former knowledge, any child could give you a reason for these phases that have, with it, beauty and cadence of thought. But fact? Fact holds no appeal for these scholars of beauty. Science strips the wonder from their world and brings with it doubt.
They love without this doubt. They do not question motive or entertain the possibility that love is tentative at best. They know only that today, they love and are loved. Children grasp the hand of kindness and carry it full swing. To love is to be held, to be enveloped with a blanket of contentment and to see the world with unjaded eyes.
To live in the presence of this vast and monumental force is overwhelming at times. I am not guarding, I have been the keeper of life. Instead of teaching, I have become the student of kindness and patience. Rather than molding, I am the river bed of the wild waters that flow from her. In thinking that I will be the example by which she lives, I have instead become the center by which this being gravitates. I can no more contain her ideas than she could mine. We live in harmony rather than two single forces striking out. We exist because of beauty and for beauty. Children embody this beauty.
I'll Gaze Down the Path Before Its Worn
I've grown used to being the light by which others find their way. I give advice based on my experience and what I have learned thus far. When, however, does this advice apply to me? At what point do I become my own beacon?
We pine. We pine for a brush of hands, for a secret embrace, for that feeling of elation when we know that there is another person who exists for you and through you. To know that your value is placed not on your tentative range of emotions but on your all-enveloped being. *Who* you are, rather than *what.*
Our quirks say very little about what notes are truly played inside of us. Are we a symphony or a helter-skelter melody being banged out on an out of tune piano? How sure are you? And, more importantly, who enjoys our euphonic being?
What drives us? Are we truly our actions or the intentions behind said actions? At best we are a device. A device used to carry out our intentions. We weigh both sides and then act accordingly. Which should reign supreme? The brain or the heart?
I'm typically an upbeat person. Lately though, I have been plagued with a baffling onset of self doubt. How unusual and how much it has shaken me.
We pine. We pine for a brush of hands, for a secret embrace, for that feeling of elation when we know that there is another person who exists for you and through you. To know that your value is placed not on your tentative range of emotions but on your all-enveloped being. *Who* you are, rather than *what.*
Our quirks say very little about what notes are truly played inside of us. Are we a symphony or a helter-skelter melody being banged out on an out of tune piano? How sure are you? And, more importantly, who enjoys our euphonic being?
What drives us? Are we truly our actions or the intentions behind said actions? At best we are a device. A device used to carry out our intentions. We weigh both sides and then act accordingly. Which should reign supreme? The brain or the heart?
I'm typically an upbeat person. Lately though, I have been plagued with a baffling onset of self doubt. How unusual and how much it has shaken me.
The Humbled Critic
Friday night, the kid and I drove to Jonesboro to attend a family reunion of sorts Saturday morning in Missouri. My mom, grandmother, the kid, and I left at 9.
We stopped at a cemetary to visit the graves of my grandmother's uncle and a few others. She brought along flowers to lay on the ground in front of them. Morrigan asked why she was doing that and my grandmother replied, "To let them know they are loved." She then turned and began to say something to me. I turned around and Morrigan was getting more flowers out of the back of the car and placing them on every grave within sight. She would stop in front of them, read their name out loud and then she laid a flower down. We waited for 30 minutes while she did this. No one rushed her or even questioned what she was doing.
I realized at that moment how unyielding the compassion of a child is. She thought that every person there deserved to be loved and spent her time making sure of it. The idea of a cemetary didn't scare her. I wanted to cry. She understood what most of us ignore...a moment taken for someone, even a complete stanger, isn't a moment wasted.
We made it home from the reunion of "So you're Paul's granddaughter" at around 6.
That night, I went out and spent time with someone who means a great deal to me. The more time I spend with him, the more necessary he becomes to the quality of my life. I find myself looking at him and wondering what he will be like in 20 years. I have never actually entertained the idea of "tomorrow" with anyone. I know from the beginning that it will end, and end quickly but this time this rule doesn't apply. My family adores him, Morrigan holds his hand and begs him to play with her, and I feel as if, for once, I have found something I ignored the absence of. I enjoy the things about him that he doesn't notice, that most probably overlook. This saddens me but at the same time, fills me with elation that I do see these things, I enjoy them, and I love him.
We stopped at a cemetary to visit the graves of my grandmother's uncle and a few others. She brought along flowers to lay on the ground in front of them. Morrigan asked why she was doing that and my grandmother replied, "To let them know they are loved." She then turned and began to say something to me. I turned around and Morrigan was getting more flowers out of the back of the car and placing them on every grave within sight. She would stop in front of them, read their name out loud and then she laid a flower down. We waited for 30 minutes while she did this. No one rushed her or even questioned what she was doing.
I realized at that moment how unyielding the compassion of a child is. She thought that every person there deserved to be loved and spent her time making sure of it. The idea of a cemetary didn't scare her. I wanted to cry. She understood what most of us ignore...a moment taken for someone, even a complete stanger, isn't a moment wasted.
We made it home from the reunion of "So you're Paul's granddaughter" at around 6.
That night, I went out and spent time with someone who means a great deal to me. The more time I spend with him, the more necessary he becomes to the quality of my life. I find myself looking at him and wondering what he will be like in 20 years. I have never actually entertained the idea of "tomorrow" with anyone. I know from the beginning that it will end, and end quickly but this time this rule doesn't apply. My family adores him, Morrigan holds his hand and begs him to play with her, and I feel as if, for once, I have found something I ignored the absence of. I enjoy the things about him that he doesn't notice, that most probably overlook. This saddens me but at the same time, fills me with elation that I do see these things, I enjoy them, and I love him.
Former Midnight Musings
I was wrong apparently. About what? Well, about love. Recently I have found myself madly in love. Did I want something so profound to take hold of me? No, not really. Would I give it back? Never.
It has changed me completely. I forgo that overwhelming need to be right for the sake of us and his happiness. I can't be angry at him, he is divine. I no longer feel that want to fix someone, he is not broken. When I breathe, I feel him. When he's gone, my entire body aches. Everything I see somehow triggers a latent memory of him. It's intoxicating and exciting. Has love made me it's fool? Completely. What a happy fool I am!
I have felt false love many times. That title engulfs being in love with the idea of being in love. We're all guilty of it. I, above all, am a hardened criminal in the matter. Has time served me as well as I'd like? No, of course not. I have seen it as my enemy. The faceless entity that delights in tormenting me. He stops when I am in need of tomorrow and hurries when I want the moment. He slaps happiness from my hand and smothers me in resentment and regret. At long last, I have bettered him in his own game.
I regret nothing, resent no one, and wait...I wait to see what dwells in tomorrow. Has fortune finally smiled on me? Has Love seen me out of the corner of her eye and thought to herself, "That's enough."?
I beg you, dear audience, to not think that I have lived a life wholly void of love. This is untrue. I have had, for almost 6 years now, the love of a child. This sort of love in no way compares to any other. It is to have a light by which everything else is seen anew. She has held my heart and will continue to do so. The degree to which I adore her is beyond measure. I feel almost undeserving of it.
Now, however, I feel so much. I have in my life 2 people who are completely necessary to me and in being so have encased me in elation. Sometimes I feel as if I will die from loving too much. How uncanny.
Am I afraid? Of course. Is it worth it? Very much so...
It has changed me completely. I forgo that overwhelming need to be right for the sake of us and his happiness. I can't be angry at him, he is divine. I no longer feel that want to fix someone, he is not broken. When I breathe, I feel him. When he's gone, my entire body aches. Everything I see somehow triggers a latent memory of him. It's intoxicating and exciting. Has love made me it's fool? Completely. What a happy fool I am!
I have felt false love many times. That title engulfs being in love with the idea of being in love. We're all guilty of it. I, above all, am a hardened criminal in the matter. Has time served me as well as I'd like? No, of course not. I have seen it as my enemy. The faceless entity that delights in tormenting me. He stops when I am in need of tomorrow and hurries when I want the moment. He slaps happiness from my hand and smothers me in resentment and regret. At long last, I have bettered him in his own game.
I regret nothing, resent no one, and wait...I wait to see what dwells in tomorrow. Has fortune finally smiled on me? Has Love seen me out of the corner of her eye and thought to herself, "That's enough."?
I beg you, dear audience, to not think that I have lived a life wholly void of love. This is untrue. I have had, for almost 6 years now, the love of a child. This sort of love in no way compares to any other. It is to have a light by which everything else is seen anew. She has held my heart and will continue to do so. The degree to which I adore her is beyond measure. I feel almost undeserving of it.
Now, however, I feel so much. I have in my life 2 people who are completely necessary to me and in being so have encased me in elation. Sometimes I feel as if I will die from loving too much. How uncanny.
Am I afraid? Of course. Is it worth it? Very much so...
Morale? What?
I know that many of you are mourning the loss of my pseudo-daily blog ramble but, alas, I've been busy. I have recently noticed that with the loss of misery in my life, I have partially lost a muse. Pain was a very intimate friend of mine and we had grown accustomed to one another's company. Our daily tango quickly turned to inspiration and that being as it was... I wrote...frequently. My writing may have been the hate-filled diatribe of an unhinged social outcast but, nevertheless, there it was for you to sneer at. That being said, this is my long-time companion's obituary. You will not be mourned.
Now, let me not forgo the usual mention of the everyday things that irk me to the hilt. I'll list them in random order because, at times, one may piss me off more than the other. (It really depends on the day, to be honest about it.)
Nena's List of Personal Pet Peeves:
* People that drive the wrong direction in a parking lot.
(I had this happen to me recently and when the ass almost slammed into me, he had the audacity to flip ME off.)
*People that show up 30 minutes before a store opens.
(Just what in the hell do you need from anywhere at 8:30 am?)
*People who think that "yield" is more of a suggestion than a rule.
(Yes, I mean you. That sign is letting YOU know that the others cars will not stop for your ignorant ass.)
*People who think that they are the exception to every rule.
(What?!?! I have to wait like everyone else?!? Me?!?! That's absurd. Yes, you. You rank right below the person who came before you. Accept it.)[also: see above]
*People who give advice that they do not follow.
(The ever-famous "do as I say, not as I do" mindset. I will gauge your opinion or advice by how your life is going... so keep that in mind next time you give me parenting advice and both of your children are failures.)
*People who suffer from a severe case of extreme self entitlement.
(The world owes you nothing. Therefore, I *owe* you absolutely nothing. You are not doing me a favor by doing what you are SUPPOSED to do. If you're a mother, you are supposed to care for your children. The same holds true if you are a father. You don't babysit your own kids. Get over yourself. Honestly.)
*College students who attempt to play up the whole, "I'm a poor college student" thing.
(Yeah well, get a job. I have a job. You can get a job. You are preaching to the choir on that one, asshole.)
Now, let me not forgo the usual mention of the everyday things that irk me to the hilt. I'll list them in random order because, at times, one may piss me off more than the other. (It really depends on the day, to be honest about it.)
Nena's List of Personal Pet Peeves:
* People that drive the wrong direction in a parking lot.
(I had this happen to me recently and when the ass almost slammed into me, he had the audacity to flip ME off.)
*People that show up 30 minutes before a store opens.
(Just what in the hell do you need from anywhere at 8:30 am?)
*People who think that "yield" is more of a suggestion than a rule.
(Yes, I mean you. That sign is letting YOU know that the others cars will not stop for your ignorant ass.)
*People who think that they are the exception to every rule.
(What?!?! I have to wait like everyone else?!? Me?!?! That's absurd. Yes, you. You rank right below the person who came before you. Accept it.)[also: see above]
*People who give advice that they do not follow.
(The ever-famous "do as I say, not as I do" mindset. I will gauge your opinion or advice by how your life is going... so keep that in mind next time you give me parenting advice and both of your children are failures.)
*People who suffer from a severe case of extreme self entitlement.
(The world owes you nothing. Therefore, I *owe* you absolutely nothing. You are not doing me a favor by doing what you are SUPPOSED to do. If you're a mother, you are supposed to care for your children. The same holds true if you are a father. You don't babysit your own kids. Get over yourself. Honestly.)
*College students who attempt to play up the whole, "I'm a poor college student" thing.
(Yeah well, get a job. I have a job. You can get a job. You are preaching to the choir on that one, asshole.)
August the Fourth in Retrospect
Morrigan's sixth birthday. It's hard to believe that this creature has been in my life for six years, then again, it's even more difficult to imagine my life before she was here everyday to dust my moments with tantrums, songs, and musings that only a child can entertain. I've had the opportunity to watch her shed the skin of a toddler then into the garments of a beautiful lady. That clothing may be a tad loose now but soon it will hang perfectly.
I spend most of my time curious as to how many famed authors, poets, and philosophers may view things now. Luckily, I have one person in my circle that embodies the best aspects of all three. Morrigan can weave a wonderful tale from simple, everyday things and tell it with enthusiasm that is contagious. She fills the air in our home with sweet, high-noted sonnets about love and friendship. My favorite, by far, of her abilities is how in-tune she is with humanity. She picks up very subtle things which would be meaningless to most. She knows what to say to make you rethink your situation and does so with a very deciding air about her.
I love her and feel honored to have a hand in her creation.
I'll end this with a quote from my favorite thinker:
"Don't worry, he loves you. Anyone who makes you that happy must love you."
-Morrigan
I spend most of my time curious as to how many famed authors, poets, and philosophers may view things now. Luckily, I have one person in my circle that embodies the best aspects of all three. Morrigan can weave a wonderful tale from simple, everyday things and tell it with enthusiasm that is contagious. She fills the air in our home with sweet, high-noted sonnets about love and friendship. My favorite, by far, of her abilities is how in-tune she is with humanity. She picks up very subtle things which would be meaningless to most. She knows what to say to make you rethink your situation and does so with a very deciding air about her.
I love her and feel honored to have a hand in her creation.
I'll end this with a quote from my favorite thinker:
"Don't worry, he loves you. Anyone who makes you that happy must love you."
-Morrigan
Politicians with Spunk
I was recently reading something about the bombing of a church in Alabama where four young black girls were killed and I came across a letter written in response to hate mail from the KKK to Attorney General Bill Baxley of Alabama after he re-opened the investigation years later. The Ku Klux Klan, in the letter, called him an "honorary nigger", compared him to JFK and wished him dead.
Baxley's response, on official state letterhead, contained only:
"My response to your letter of February 19, 1976, is - kiss my ass.
Sincerely,
Bill Baxley,
Attorney General"
Now, that is spunk. I respect spunk.
Baxley's response, on official state letterhead, contained only:
"My response to your letter of February 19, 1976, is - kiss my ass.
Sincerely,
Bill Baxley,
Attorney General"
Now, that is spunk. I respect spunk.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Scratched Lacquer Haze
Yesterday the collective voice of America was heard. We, as an entirety, yearned for something that resembled little more than a forgotten fancy. A memory it will no longer be, but a reality.
Most of those who I have talked to about the election always mention the two terms that Bill Clinton occupied the White House. They reflect on it as if it was a golden time in their lives. A time before a war, before the country fell victim to the most vicious tyrant of all; fear. This fear was evident in the onslaught of negative media surrounding Obama. Instead of embracing the possibility of a new face, fresh ideas, and a drive that goes unmatched; some shrank in horror at the mention of his heritage. Those that relinquished their reason to baseless assumptions committed the worst crime of all.
America has never been any one race or religion. From her birth, she has been a diverse collective of those who fled from persecution because of their religion. Yet, in spite of this truth, some were prepared and willing to throw down a label that, at best, described little more than what he was born into. The title "Muslim" has had a negative association with the American public since those devastating events that took place on 9-11. Out of fear, most have suspended truth for temporary relief in ignorance.
We, as a whole, cannot fall victim to this ignorance. Those individuals who are responsible for multitudes of horrid and inhumane acts do not represent the entirety of the Islamic community. This same rule applies to zealots from any faction of life. The Caucasian bigots who throw nooses around the limbs of trees or set blaze to a cross do not represent the white population, nor do they express a sentiment shared by Caucasians across America. In all reality, this blind hatred is shared by very few and the number decreases daily.
Race or any other factor that one is born with or in should not have a blinding effect on what should really matter. Socrates said that when confronted with death "a man who is good for anything ought not to calculate the chance of living or dying; he ought only to consider whether in doing anything he is doing right or wrong, acting the part of a good man or of a bad." These concerns should be all that plagues us. Questions that should occupy our thoughts shouldn't be "Who does he know?" but "What kind of person is he?” The answer to that, only time will unfold.
I am grateful to have participated in a pivotal event in our history and more proud still am I of the outcome. I believe that he will reunite our country as a whole. Not under the pretense of religion, sex, race, or gender, but as a nation in need of the gadfly. A nation prepared to push its way out of the depths of the belly of the beast and back into celebration of the diverse patching of the American quilt. We are a country unlike any other and we should embrace the reality that the power to move, mold, and change this country rests solely in the hands of the individuals who occupy it. Finally, from the fire of fear springs forth the anointed bird of possibility.
Most of those who I have talked to about the election always mention the two terms that Bill Clinton occupied the White House. They reflect on it as if it was a golden time in their lives. A time before a war, before the country fell victim to the most vicious tyrant of all; fear. This fear was evident in the onslaught of negative media surrounding Obama. Instead of embracing the possibility of a new face, fresh ideas, and a drive that goes unmatched; some shrank in horror at the mention of his heritage. Those that relinquished their reason to baseless assumptions committed the worst crime of all.
America has never been any one race or religion. From her birth, she has been a diverse collective of those who fled from persecution because of their religion. Yet, in spite of this truth, some were prepared and willing to throw down a label that, at best, described little more than what he was born into. The title "Muslim" has had a negative association with the American public since those devastating events that took place on 9-11. Out of fear, most have suspended truth for temporary relief in ignorance.
We, as a whole, cannot fall victim to this ignorance. Those individuals who are responsible for multitudes of horrid and inhumane acts do not represent the entirety of the Islamic community. This same rule applies to zealots from any faction of life. The Caucasian bigots who throw nooses around the limbs of trees or set blaze to a cross do not represent the white population, nor do they express a sentiment shared by Caucasians across America. In all reality, this blind hatred is shared by very few and the number decreases daily.
Race or any other factor that one is born with or in should not have a blinding effect on what should really matter. Socrates said that when confronted with death "a man who is good for anything ought not to calculate the chance of living or dying; he ought only to consider whether in doing anything he is doing right or wrong, acting the part of a good man or of a bad." These concerns should be all that plagues us. Questions that should occupy our thoughts shouldn't be "Who does he know?" but "What kind of person is he?” The answer to that, only time will unfold.
I am grateful to have participated in a pivotal event in our history and more proud still am I of the outcome. I believe that he will reunite our country as a whole. Not under the pretense of religion, sex, race, or gender, but as a nation in need of the gadfly. A nation prepared to push its way out of the depths of the belly of the beast and back into celebration of the diverse patching of the American quilt. We are a country unlike any other and we should embrace the reality that the power to move, mold, and change this country rests solely in the hands of the individuals who occupy it. Finally, from the fire of fear springs forth the anointed bird of possibility.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Anger-Go-Round
Outside the air is clean and cool. My thoughts are accompanied by the hesitant notes played from a trumpet belonging to the little boy next door. When he pauses, so do I. I wonder sometimes if he depends on me as much as I do on him. I doubt if he even knows that I am a nightly witness to his progression as an artist or that he provides me with a constant in my seemingly inconstant world.
As cold as it is, I don't have sense enough to put on socks or shoes. I think I enjoy the feeling of the cold. It cleanses and preserves. The chill gives me a different feeling. It dwells outside of the circle that anxiety, resentment, and fear resides. My body is frigid but my mind is warm and alive.
I initially came outside for a change of scenery. Inside, I find myself angry at things that make no sense and I expect things that cannot be delivered. I resent him for not being like me. He enjoys the idea that everything is simple and logical. I cannot possibly grasp his thought process and he thinks mine is absurd. I feel outside of my life.
All of that is in the background. Right now, I have the cold and the music. A feeling and a sound that I look forward to every night. Loneliness with a soundtrack.
As cold as it is, I don't have sense enough to put on socks or shoes. I think I enjoy the feeling of the cold. It cleanses and preserves. The chill gives me a different feeling. It dwells outside of the circle that anxiety, resentment, and fear resides. My body is frigid but my mind is warm and alive.
I initially came outside for a change of scenery. Inside, I find myself angry at things that make no sense and I expect things that cannot be delivered. I resent him for not being like me. He enjoys the idea that everything is simple and logical. I cannot possibly grasp his thought process and he thinks mine is absurd. I feel outside of my life.
All of that is in the background. Right now, I have the cold and the music. A feeling and a sound that I look forward to every night. Loneliness with a soundtrack.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Why would a butterfly dive on a pin?
Today as I sat quietly on the sidewalk with my back pressed firmly against the brick building, I noticed something odd about those who passed by me. None of them even glanced at me. Albeit I wasn't wearing anything particularly flashy and I didn't have an airhorn handy but I was there... sitting and smoking a cigarette.
Typically, when I smoke outside of anywhere I always hear a mixed bag of comments or worse still; a dramatized cough to signify that even fifteen feet away, the smoke from my cigarette has visited a brief glimpse of death upon them by infiltrating their lungs and causing said cough. (I do adore the public) I can take all of the comments but the coughing bit irritates me. I always want to shout, "Hey! You might wanna quit smoking! That's a hell of a cough you got there!" But alas, I don't. I always tell myself that it isn't worth it and that they need something to embody all they see wrong with the world. Why not use the fact that I smoke as a deciding factor in my overall character? Hell, while we're at it let's go ahead and put me in an apron and send me to the kitchen. I'm female too afterall.
I wonder sometimes what it feels like to be that self righteous. If perhaps its a warming sensation that sweeps over your body and blankets you like the feeling you get after you perform an act of charity. Somehow, I doubt it. I imagine its more like a justification for the unbased judgements they more than likely make on a daily basis. I always find myself giggling slightly when I watch them get into a car with a bumper sticker that reads, "Jesus is my co-pilot." If that's so, let him drive.
While I'm on the topic of the sheperd himself, let's consider his actions. Would Jesus have scoffed at me when he saw me smoking a cigarette or ignore me sitting two feet from him as he walked by? I somehow very much doubt it. I think that instead of the WWJD bracelets, it should read "WWJT." What would Jesus think? I find this a very brilliant idea because obviously the other isn't working that well. It could be that they're just all contemplating what Jesus would do to the extent that its causing inaction rather than influencing action. That's why worrying about what he would think could accomplish the same objective, only much quicker. They know what he would think.
Religion aside, I try to not shove people into molds to allow easy dissection. I'm sure I do it and do it frequently but the fact that I know I do should say something... shouldn't it? I'm not tagging all proclaimed Christians as self righteous cattle, mind you, only those who are guilty of forgetting the basic Christian tenants (as I described above). I've known quite a few people who for me embody what my wish is for all people: compassion, understanding, and love. These people signify to me that there is hope. That religion isn't a cloak people wear to shield themselves from the backlash of their actions. That he was indeed, the lamb.
So I sat there, feeling the grooves of the brick against my back. I must have appeared lost or at least lost in thought because an older man walked closer to me and chuckled slightly after hearing another women tell me I shouldn't smoke. I said hello to him and smiled. His brow wrinkled a bit and he leaned down to me and said, "You shouldn't wonder about people too much, most of them don't think often enough to suit me. So I try to remember that because I know what they never bother being curious about, I've lived twice as well as they have," and he patted my shoulder and walked away.
Typically, when I smoke outside of anywhere I always hear a mixed bag of comments or worse still; a dramatized cough to signify that even fifteen feet away, the smoke from my cigarette has visited a brief glimpse of death upon them by infiltrating their lungs and causing said cough. (I do adore the public) I can take all of the comments but the coughing bit irritates me. I always want to shout, "Hey! You might wanna quit smoking! That's a hell of a cough you got there!" But alas, I don't. I always tell myself that it isn't worth it and that they need something to embody all they see wrong with the world. Why not use the fact that I smoke as a deciding factor in my overall character? Hell, while we're at it let's go ahead and put me in an apron and send me to the kitchen. I'm female too afterall.
I wonder sometimes what it feels like to be that self righteous. If perhaps its a warming sensation that sweeps over your body and blankets you like the feeling you get after you perform an act of charity. Somehow, I doubt it. I imagine its more like a justification for the unbased judgements they more than likely make on a daily basis. I always find myself giggling slightly when I watch them get into a car with a bumper sticker that reads, "Jesus is my co-pilot." If that's so, let him drive.
While I'm on the topic of the sheperd himself, let's consider his actions. Would Jesus have scoffed at me when he saw me smoking a cigarette or ignore me sitting two feet from him as he walked by? I somehow very much doubt it. I think that instead of the WWJD bracelets, it should read "WWJT." What would Jesus think? I find this a very brilliant idea because obviously the other isn't working that well. It could be that they're just all contemplating what Jesus would do to the extent that its causing inaction rather than influencing action. That's why worrying about what he would think could accomplish the same objective, only much quicker. They know what he would think.
Religion aside, I try to not shove people into molds to allow easy dissection. I'm sure I do it and do it frequently but the fact that I know I do should say something... shouldn't it? I'm not tagging all proclaimed Christians as self righteous cattle, mind you, only those who are guilty of forgetting the basic Christian tenants (as I described above). I've known quite a few people who for me embody what my wish is for all people: compassion, understanding, and love. These people signify to me that there is hope. That religion isn't a cloak people wear to shield themselves from the backlash of their actions. That he was indeed, the lamb.
So I sat there, feeling the grooves of the brick against my back. I must have appeared lost or at least lost in thought because an older man walked closer to me and chuckled slightly after hearing another women tell me I shouldn't smoke. I said hello to him and smiled. His brow wrinkled a bit and he leaned down to me and said, "You shouldn't wonder about people too much, most of them don't think often enough to suit me. So I try to remember that because I know what they never bother being curious about, I've lived twice as well as they have," and he patted my shoulder and walked away.
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