Contemptuous Maternal Wrath

Your socio-biological theory was put to the test when you took hostage a vulnerable, confused, angry, abused, broken, young man and combined his DNA with that of your own. A calculated, sociopath; a shrewd and corrupt businesswoman, one who did whatever it would take to be elevated up Ma Bell’s corporate ladder in some delusional journey to Telecom Utopia.

Victor Frankenstein himself would tip his hat at your handy work. As the result would bear a broken, angry and confused little girl. Your rejection allowed her to feel alienated, unloved, and completely alone within her family. That little girl was exiled to room and inevitably deep into her own susceptible mind. 

The truth was revealed just a spoonful at a time. It is still too much to digest. However you simply weren’t willing to struggle as hard as other black women would. You had a brilliant thought; your execution was prodigal and rapacious. You surrounded yourself with only white people, you married a white man 10 years your junior after putting him through school and molding him to your desired image, you delivered a child who was half white and moved to an all white town. It was good for you, it looked good for your career and for your façade. You lightened your skin with make up, you spent no time in the sun, you spent as many hours away from home fixated on your career and the character you portrayed to the public. 

Your husband sought affection elsewhere, as did your daughter. Sex and drugs came long before puberty.

When you reached the point of realization that there was no one left to be further baffled by your bullshit at work, you made the lateral jump into the Catholic Church where you continued your performance, now as a modern day working class Mother Theresa… 

The hard-working breadwinner of the family, the mother of the lost child, the unsuspecting wife of the cheating scoundrel. 

You gained their trust, you formed a band of supporters, continued working at a reduced schedule of just 60 hours per week and suddenly your daughter and husband would be subject to the judgement and scrutiny of your newfound loyal fanbase, their community. 

This was too easy. You merely planted the seeds and let the small town church folk do the rest of the work for you. You could see the light so far off in the distance, and to you it was the ultimate win/win. 

Final stop: HEAVEN.

...

I've learned how the mentally ill believe the lies they tell themselves, but isn't that true of all human kind? 

Do you deserve a convenient excuse for your calculated and sociopathic behavior? Should it be written off as such? 

You were embarrassed by your own scion and ashamed of your roots. You found it better to cast out the child than to expose the darkness inside of the mother. 

Without knowledge of family history, ethnic culture, or even basic life skills, I would inevitably find myself young and vulnerable, much like the condition you met my father in, but with a child of my own in tow. 

Unbeknownst to me you had been dutifully preparing for this day. I was without resources,  I was scared and despondent, I had no choice but to capitulate. Desperate and depraved, I had somehow fallen into your debt... 

You took my daughter, turned her against me and closed the book; paid in full.

I assumed the darkness from you; and the debris of shattered emotions from my father. Gratefully, I inherited his empathy and analytical process. Of course, I always knew that I had failed you, I was truly nothing like you. I emit selflessness and love, you are pure poison. To your credit, I do have the ability to be devious and cunning, but to my father's credit, I have a conscience. The idea of hurting people the way you do turns to acid and burns deep into my heart. When I think about who my mother is, I feel vile and inhuman unworthy of any conventional solace.

Except for when I think of seeing you just one last time.

I become physically high on my mind’s preview:

I'm standing over you; my hand slowly tightens around your throat. I'm watching longingly for the light go out from your eyes.

Good bye once and for all; you pestilent, old wretch... good bye.

Ode to the Sea Turtle

I get sad when all the baby sea turtles don't make it to the water. Why would any god create something so cute to kill it? 
Sadly, it's simpler than that. Nature is a lifecycle.  Flowers are beautiful but don't live in full bloom forever, even when we leave them alone.

Simplicity is found within the complexities of Nature... bigger than man and his trivial matters.

The natural order of things... the food chain. 
A natural selection, there is no hierarchy, there are no labels. There are no obese birds or fish that ate too many baby turtles and can't get off their asses. They are able to follow their instinctual path for one very simple reason:

They don't have a choice.

When a baby sea turtle hatches, it does not have a choice of whether it wants the Armani shell or an iPhone 6, or Jordan's or an XBOX. The baby turtle's mother does not have anxiety about how cool her baby looks while he's fighting to survive the first day of his life.

No baby sea turtle has a better chance than another to survive. There are no rich turtles or royal turtle families or turtle cop's kids that get a better opportunity. There are no turtle addicts, no turtle dealers, no turtle therapists or turtle divorce courts, no single turtle moms working 3 jobs, no alcoholic workaholic dads, no manic sea turtles taunting death and behaving erratically. There are no turtle family funerals or creepy uncles or dysfunctional holiday dinners...
From their very first breath, all of the baby sea turtles get the same instinctual road map it says, "Get out of this eggshell and get to the water as fast as you can... go go go go!"

The adventures that turtle experiences are ruled by the laws and balance of nature.

Man is so egotistical,  part of nature's life cycle... our arrogance has allowed us to create our own afflictions.

One man had some loud opinions... some agreed,  some fought against him,  and the rest of us silently succumb to inner feelings of inadequacy.
Only a pimp or a bully instinctively know how to exploit & turn us out.
That's Government and Big Pharma.

The sea turtle has a stressful mission from birth and a very low survival rate.  Not to mention, they probably have more Universal significance than man, yet the sea turtle lives free of emotional hang ups.

Live life like the sea turtle.

Naturally.

Dirty Laundry Blog: 7/14/2015 PANIC AND DOOM

What happens to people when nothing is valued or earned? When everything becomes materialistic and disposable? How do we convey the satisfaction of working toward something to entitled children who only demand more?

What about when we aren't perfect, when we're tired, when we've worked our fingers to the bone for 30 plus years and don't have a damn thing to show for it? We've lost it all once, twice, or so many times we can't remember... but we're still drawing a breath so we ought to be grateful?

What do we do when we can go no further? When every fiber of our being screams for us to stop? When we can't endure another rant, whimper, vent, whine, bitch, moan, grown, tantrum, crisis or teardrop? When we realize nobody is interested in listening to our shit? When we wake up to the reality that it's everyone for themselves, and we've given everything we had so freely?

What do we have when we learn that love is a lie? When our self esteem is mutilated by the toxic bastards who gave us life? When we treat our partners like hostages? When we trade secrets on how to take without giving? When we pride ourselves on coming out on top and it means leaving another human being face down in our wake?

What does it mean when we cry for no reason? When we find pleasure in unpleasant thoughts? When we just can't do the every day tasks that we're supposed to do? When routine becomes such a fucking grueling chore that we would rather jump off a building and call it a day?

What do we do as people whose employers keep demanding more and we've got nothing left to give? When our souls are bought and sold and traded on the open market for their profit? When physical labor and skilled trades were once the bedrock of our civilization, now looked down upon like peasantry from the eyes of a prince?

What do we do when we've been to hell and back during life? When we've made amends and apologies? When we've learned to forgive and to live better and to lead others by positive example? When we can barely hold onto what little hope we have left? When our own simple ideology has no place in the prison-like world we've been sentenced to? When our recipe for happiness is ruined by the vile mephitis of decay? When we force ourselves to deny what we know in our hearts is true?

The grim fact that a foul stench is all that remains of a culture's morality.

What the fuck do we do?

Self-Centered LOVE? I'm in an Abusive Relationship with MYSELF!

I fall for liars, sociopaths, and egotistical narcissists... The reason is that I am all of these rolled into one. 

How can I expect a higher quality human being to fall into my world if I myself, am no higher in quality? Is there any such thing? Am I completely off my nut?

I have attached myself to poisonous people, like a barnacle to a boat. I've dedicated myself, lost my identity and haphazardly handed over countless, non-refundable periods of my life to them. I've even manipulated some and taken them hostage by secretly creating a disturbance, heroically rescuing them from it, ultimately forcing them to depend on me to survive for periods of time. Desperately clinging to the beam of hope that tells me, "YOU MATTER to SOMEONE". I'm your ride-or-die bitch. All in the name of LOVE?!? Well, the definition was loosely translated and adapted by my fucked up, demented mind, so who knows... Maybe in the name of a facade that I'm a good person.

Perpetually a work in progress, I have all the typical 'child of the 70's', daddy issues, along with some extraordinarily hateful resentments toward mommy... 

In addition to that which would later be classified as borderline personality disorder; you might find me sporting a little bling as well... The pristine specimen of attachment disorder I wear like a flower on my lapel often shimmers under an interrogation lamp; I'm a commitment-phobe, and truth be told, not a day will pass absent of sadistically sinister homicidal ideation or reservations of my own inevitable suicide.

I'm no victim for the way I feel or where I'm at; still alone at this point in life. I've brought myself far more pain and anguish than any normal person could be bothered to inflict upon another. Even my mother got tired of hurting me, eventually...

Why can't I stop? 

In fact, why can't I just walk away when I recognize the pattern? Am I masochistic? Do I really enjoy the pain? How can I be a stronger person? How can I reverse a lifetime of self abuse? I don't know where to begin, but the narcissistic egomaniac in me wants to profess my love to ME once and for all; since I possess such a colorful mind, I'm thinkin bout kickin' it off Dennis Rodman style! Shit, maybe that's what it is going to take. I've got a whole bunch of life left to live, anyway. I can't die until I've reached the peak of my success, I'm still fucking around in the foothills... I am sure it's all out of the fear. I guess that means get up in there and Blast that fucking fear, there's GOLD up in them hills. MY GOLD. This is MY TIME to WIN goddamnit, mine! 

Lifecycle of a Psychopath:

I remember when it was fuzzy. My imagination was formidable, my thoughts were dark, but never graphic. 

Later, as my mind began to develop, I began to realize pictures were developing as well. Incomplete and scattered, there was definitely something there. Difficult to distinguish, as though a child had been given the camera; out of focus, subject matter seemed to be cut off, perhaps viewed from awkward angles. 

My mind seems to have collected them for several years and one day haphazardly dumped them out all around me like a pile of puzzle pieces onto a mosaic floor.

Anxiety ensued, my perpetual state of bewilderment would commence.

Day after day, I spent overwhelmed; knowing I have to DO this life thing AND solve this puzzle. Alienated knowing that if I spoke of the puzzle I was certain to be cast out.

Over time it became part of my routine, sometimes there were days and weeks where I'd find myself sucked into the puzzle, especially once I learned to bring the like pieces to the table and group them to fit together. Now there are hundreds of thousands of small pictures, and still some fragments which are not complete. The big picture is nowhere near identifiable, though in some cases I am able to make out what the snapshots were of... Darker, thoughts; not unlike crime scene photos.

These photos get placed into a file and I return to the floor and bring more pieces to the table. It feels right, like I need to get it together, to organize these thoughts.

A metamorphosis occurred, or maybe I've simply unlocked the next stage in deciphering the enigma that is me. Whether I choose to actively participate or walk away from it, the transformations continue.

Those images in my head which were filed away are coming together on their own, they are evolving... I can start to see moving pictures, like a flip book. With that, a plot is beginning to emerge; sounds and aromas are entering into the background. I can't figure out if my senses are fueling my imagination or my mind is fueling my senses. 

I fear what is to come when the movie is complete, wondering if it will ever be complete. Feeling driven that I must see it through to the bitter end. Perhaps what I fear is to become the panacea for all of my woes.

Entitled and Foolish Children

How Our Enemies Will Defeat Us:

Why is America the most obese society on earth? We are entitled and lazy, arrogant and demanding. We want more than we need, better than anyone else’s, and we want it faster! Which is true of man since the beginning of time; we’ve evolved… We’ve discovered ways to be more efficient, in turn we’ve become more lazy and complacent. Our government needed to be more efficient so that they would still make all the profits. There’s a price to be paid one way or another.

Our society teaches us to pay other people to do the jobs that we don’t want to do: Cleaning, Landscaping, Painting, Farming, and oh yeah, we don’t want to pay them much. People come in from other countries and live here together and pool their money so they can survive and it’s FAR better than where they came from. We call them animals and we bitch because they are taking our jobs. The truth is we ARE NOT willing to live like they live, we ARE NOT willing to work as hard as they do, and we ARE NOT willing to get paid what they get paid. Americans are spoiled and entitled. Jobs need to be done, what we can’t afford to do in-house, we simply outsource.

In America it’s all about smart this and HD that, Wii this and iThat. None of these gadgets are manufactured here; in fact almost nothing is manufactured here. So we are already giving millions of dollars to foreign countries that may or may not have our best interest at heart. We think because we have “trade agreements” they won’t attack us.

They are attacking us. We’re too fat, dumb, and happy to know it, but they are.

Who drives 10 miles to run 5 miles on a treadmill (designed in another country with parts from another country, assembled here) where we can listen to our foreign gadget play digital music and wear our brightly colored foreign-made name brand sneakers and grab a bucket of GMO take-out for the family on the way home?!?  We are so lazy we need a phone that can do everything but wipe our ass for us. But we complain about privacy and pretend to worry about “big brother”. We haven’t got up to change a channel in 35 years and we wonder why our ass has worn a wider divot in the couch cushion.

We are addicted to instant gratification, our muscles are atrophied from lack of use, our necks are sore from texting and we have carpal tunnel from repetitive button pushing. We whine about the aches and pains, but we aren’t willing to actually do anything about it if it requires rigorous movement, exercise or further absence of our almighty convenience. 

So we take a pill.

Another product not manufactured here. This pill is promised to take your pain away. Again, there is a price for everything. Oh, you’re suddenly feeling sad? Try this pill, it will alleviate the sadness, and this one is for the suicidal thoughts associated with taking the pill for sadness, and don’t worry if it gives you muscle pain we have another pain pill for that. Now your legs are restless and your mouth is dry? Take this, it may cause hallucinations, so don’t drink on it, you might have a psychotic episode, but if you do, we have the remedy for that as well. 

“Oh so you’re addicted to the pills? The pharmaceutical company assured us they use only the finest opium from Afghanistan… I can’t see how that could happen, well since you’re addicted now, we aren’t going to give you anymore”. 

Now you are physically withdrawing and the pain has taken over and you will do ANYTHING to get a pill. Word is they are $50 on the street; let’s find one or two… A couple days later you’re sick again, the pain is worse, let’s get 4 this time… now they are too expensive. The guy with the pills says, “hey, I can’t help you with those pills anymore, but give this a shot, you only need a tiny bit; I’ll let you try this bag for free”. Hello Heroin. The progression takes over like a rapidly multiplying parasitic infection.

Incidentally, middle school and high school kids aren’t just smoking pot anymore. It’s too hard to hide from parents who are well versed in 60’s, 70’s, 80’s and 90’s life. Heroin is cheaper and easier to get and to hide… It’s not just in the inner city, it’s everywhere… 14 year olds are giving birth to heroin addicted babies and those babies are being treated with phenobarbital. Once an addict, always an addict; there’s no cure, only treatment.

While one large portion of our Nation is distracted from reality by the most cutting edge gadget, system, game, or device and can’t fathom wasting the effort to walk across the street to a neighbor’s house for coffee; another portion of our Nation is systematically being taken out by a whole new ideal in chemical warfare… created and funded by terrorists, foreign and DOMESTIC. 

As an American you have these rights:

If you don’t want to work, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to feel, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to try, you don’t have to.

In other countries; if you don’t work, you don’t eat.

If any of these other countries decided to attack us today do you think we the people would stand a chance?

Or would you go about your day with confidence, thinking, ‘that’s what the military is there for”? The very military who can’t get adequate care through the VA, the very soldiers who haven’t slept a solid night since their first deployment. The same military men and women treated with the same pills for sadness, and psychiatric issues and pain; becoming addicted themselves?

Perhaps another day with our heads in the sand will make it all go away and the internet will bring more celebrity gossip and grumpy cat meme’s with improved speed and bandwidth for us all. 

A Healthy Day of Reflection

Today was a good day. Work was good, and I got a super nice queen sized mattress and box spring from a very successful real estate broker in town via freecycle. 

My friend Jim was kind enough to help me get it strapped to my roof and get it home in true southern redneck style... I think he doubted me for a minute, but it worked out and that's what matters. 

The lady also threw in a set of nice silk sheets and a set of 1100 thread count luxury sheets too with 4 brand new pillows. Along with a brand new sponge mop, a dust mop, and a Swiffer... She has a small wicker dresser and a box of dishes she offered up as well. I will go over after work and pick the rest up tomorrow.

My new place is nearly furnished, I'll find a couch, maybe even a chair, a dining table, another dresser and a microwave over the course of the next few weeks I am sure. By then the OT will hit the bank and I will breathe easier.

I guess I've realized a few things in these past 11 months. 

We all come with our own brand of crazy. Some brands just don't mix with others. I mean if your brand is Betty Crocker and mine is Duncan Hines, we can do alright, but if your brand is Borax, and mine is Clorox things could get toxic pretty quick. Come to think of it, if one of us is Frito Lay and the other is SC Johnson, we could be poisoning others without realizing it. Lots of unhealthy relationships infect the people we care about. We don't usually know until we've lost them completely.

Trojan and Lifestyles sounds safe enough, but a Devil Dog in your Depends could mess up your day. Lysol in your Lifestyles... Tabasco in your Tampax! Oh I see this is gonna be a LONG, sleepless night where my brain won't stop.

The moral of this unexpected blog post is:

It's OK that you're crazy, but beware of your brand!! Remember your first chemistry set, then remember your teens.

Just what the hell were you mixing in that motel bathtub with a canoe paddle?!?!

Think about that...