Morbid Reality Check
Not everyone thinks alike. Those that say they do are obviously lying.
Roots Around My Rib Cage
I no longer want to cry in dark corners I no longer want to grow roots around my rib cage, most days I barely have enough strength to keep my mind and body upright and buoyant [to truly hurt], a candle that burns at both ends taking me to places no one else can - I will go where no one else has gone for you if it means my best days live inside you I truly do love you ~
But you wrote
Some pieces are beautiful,
some are deserving of praise
Some should never see the light of day,
as long as you wrote
spoke from your heart,
then it's good,
from end to start.
A House for Rent
A house for rent.
Abandoned and unloved;
Haunted by memories no one knows.
Someone’s life happened here but nobody cares;
The house stands alone, vacant and mournful.
A home for rent.
An empty house, ready to become a home;
Happy memories waiting to be made.
Someone moved on, and a family moved in;
A once-vacant space now filled with light and love.
Little House on the Prairie
Growing up, Monday nights at 8:00 pm would find my mother and I in front of the television preparing to bawl. For the nine years it aired, it was like a ritual before bedtime for us. Almost without fail, 8:55 would find us red-eyed and sniffling. Happy tears mostly, sometimes sad ones.
What was it about Little House on the Prairie that drew me?
Little House in the Big Woods. As an avid reader, I loved that the program was based on books that were based on the real life of Laura Ingalls Wilder. I felt like I was getting to see what life was like in the early days of the American west.
The Ingalls. As the only child of divorced parents, I loved seeing a family working. It wasn't perfect, no one was perfect, the siblings argued, the children sometimes made bad decisions, but they all loved deeply, respected one another, and worked hard at their relationships. Personal growth was visible within episodes even to my young eyes.
Walnut Grove. I loved the town. It also wasn't perfect, some people were unkind and cruel (just like real life), but overall, there was a strong sense of belonging and being part of a larger family. People cared for and took care of each other. Love thy neighbor had real meaning.
I loved that there was always a lesson to be learned - by the characters and by the viewer.
I loved the emotional pull and catharsis of each episode. (We really did cry every week.) Even now, occasionally l will happen upon an episode...and still end up in tears.
I rarely watch current television programs, but a friend suggested I might really like This Is Us. My husband and I started watching season one of the six filmed, and my friend was correct. Unfortunately, we could only watch one season.
My husband hates to see me cry.
The Monster I Became
I hate you.
You didn't raise me.
You tolerated me.
We both grew older.
My heart grew colder, and I drew further from you.
Hoped I'd never see you again.
Then I got the call.
"You're mother's dying"
When their words stopped, I couldn't stop crying.
I love you.
The hardest part
The hardest part
was not the silence
rather than a soft thump
nor the absence of movement
instead of a kick
or having to push out
my lifeless second born.
The hardest part
was explaining to
my tearful three year old
why he wasn't going to be
a big brother.
The Great Recession of 2008
Space for rent is where you make the mistake of getting a place with four close friends so that you can become worst enemies. After three months, none of the cool things you wanted to do have materialized. You wanted to start your own brewery, so you bought the Mr. Beer™, "brew-your-own" kit and drank it a week after it'd started fermenting. Well, not you, but Tom.
You can remember Tom telling you, "My pee is cloudy and clotted like a Belgian wheat ale with a hint of classy orange peel zest!"
"Bro, you drank my Mr. Beer Belgian Wheat Ale Orange-boy Extra Hoppy Hops Machine™?!"
"Yeah, we didn't have beer money." Stupid you!
All four of your roommates work as "dough-spinners" or "pie-pounders", two terms that you created in order to un-demoralize the $7.50 an hour that you make, because that's .25 cents more than the Georgia minimum wage and you were lucky to land that prestigious job in one of America's formerly most affordable cities according to an issue of Forbes written in 2008, when every city was as affordable as Atlanta.
"Bro, who ate all the food?" One of four roommates will ask the other three people they're living on top of.
"The food's communal, remember?" Someone reminds you of the "group huddle" that you had when the first box of clothing landed on the apartment floor. That same box hasn't moved in months.
"Bro, I bought it all!" You're right this time, it was you who bought those 20 boxes of macaroni and cheese, but everyone thinks everyone else is wrong. Someone's gotta be the freeloader, right? Well it sure as hell isn't you!
"Yeah, but we gotta have munchies!" Weed. You get it? It's funny because they were high and ate all the food, and now there's no food, and the next paycheck isn't for a week. Actually, I stand corrected, there's a partial pack of Carolina Pride Baloney™ in the crisper drawer that you got for a "steal" at .69 cents a pack. No one touches it because it cooks up like plastic.
There are eventually conversations like, "Why aren't you at work?" with answers like, "Didn't feel like it.", or, "Hey man, can I just borrow like..." this sentence is cut short with a long stare, "...ten dollars to pay for rent?" You know that "ten dollars" is code for, "I'm short about $400 on my $200 rent, but I got another paycheck coming in from poundin' pies and spinnin' dough so high, up in the sky! I'll get you back for last month and this month." You'll never see that money.
Then one day the fourth roommate is gone, they took the X-box with them that no one seems to be sure who originally owned, but they all swear it was theirs. The chairs are gone too, so is the beanbag and, well, all the electronics. All you're left with is a bunch of bills and the $500 bong everyone thought it would be super funny to pitch in on. Sorry, I was wrong again, they took the bong too. All you're left with is blunt wraps, and they're somewhere beneath the blanket of bills.
"Man, I'm so sorry dude. I can't get rent this month, but I'll get you back next month." It's weird that Tom says this, because he came home the night prior bragging about how he was super broke, because he needed to get a new tattoo.
"Are you kidding?!" As someone also in dire financial straits, who doesn't have a single tattoo themselves, you try to understand.
"Why do you need a tattoo?"
"Well it wasn't a tattoo, I was just getting some ink touched up."
"With what money?!"
"Oh, don't worry, I got a good deal." The good deal only cost him about $200 an hour down at Ink City. You know when he's lying. He says he was only there for two hours, but don't worry, Ink City does good work.
He then fills you in on the fact that, "You should get some ink!" All you can do is nothing.
No one has anymore money, you all begin to slowly hate one another, you ask each other to keep respective hands off of respective food, but no one listens. Then you start bringing "pies" back from Dough-Dumpster™. It's stuff you screwed up intentionally so that you could bring it home with you, but no one listens. You swap out pizzas to slight one another when you could all just agree on what pizza you want for that night, but the spite digs in, so there are four extra large pizzas, all with different toppings. They sit on the kitchen counter and sometimes roaches get on them.
At some point you get one of the remaining pint glasses out of your cupboard and fill it with classy Steel Reserve. No wait, you can't afford Steel Reserve anymore. Now it's Hurricane. Wrong again, it's actually Milwaukee's Best. Then half a day later, that 30 pack runs out and you're forced to buy Keystone Ice, but the flavor is unbearable. You used to have money for limes and salt so that you didn't have to taste any of what you were drinking. You're sitting there alone in the dark because the power is off and don't know what to do about the flavor, so you dissolve a pizza into your beer. Pizza-beer! You think it's funny, but it's not. It's the official drink of the Depression-Bowl™.
One day you're sitting on the living room futon on top of some hard pizzas. It was smashed with a bat in a drunken rage. You go to the dining room, because the dining room futon hasn't been smashed yet and has way less pizza on it. You're having trouble walking. Is it a stroke? No, it's an ocean of beer cans that touches your knees. Then it dawns on you, how are you always able to afford beer, weed, and smokes? Whatever.
Everyone quits their job then slowly disappears along with the remaining items, and so does your credit score. You play musical-apartments with random friends, you eventually end up on a friend's family member's friend's couch somewhere before he tells you it's Kind of weird. You and your former friends proceed to despise one another for the entirety of the next year. That's it.
Well not exactly, because one day you have a great new job at Tony Pepperoni's Pizza Party Palace™ making a comfy $8.50 an hour. You've been talking to those old friends again because the air has cleared. You're a drunk, so you've forgotten exactly where it all began, and then you see a place you can't afford on your own, but that has enough space for so many activities; a music and art studio, a spot for brewing beer, and a room for all your Funko Pops™ and other manchild gear. On the front of the door it has those magical words that make you remember all the fun you had living with your former roommates, "Space for rent".
Is Eugenics Morally Right?
All human life has inherent value from inside of the womb to a life full of years and near to death. Eugenics is murder.
Murder as a noun is defined as "the unlawful premeditated killing of one human being by another." It's taking a life. Is it morally right for one to take a life because of the potential suffering they might go through in this life?
By that logic, no one should be having kids, even if they are healthy. What if their parents die while their child is young? If they had been aborted, they wouldn't have had to suffer through that. You can't prevent everything. I've heard stories of doctors pressuring women to abort their babies because of some alleged defect, sometimes it's proven, and that child ends up born perfectly healthy. Allegedly Planned Parenthood makes good money selling baby organs... that's some questionable motives.
Is the point of life to avoid suffering at all cost? It's not even possible. The most comfortable person in the world is still uncomfortable about something. Always searching for comfort in this world. I'm comfortable in my sweater until I start feeling really hot and sweaty and then I might take it off and get cold again and have to put it back on again to get comfortable again.
If it's okay to murder the disabled in the womb, why don't we just do it to those already born? Why not kill everyone who is deaf or blind or crippled? Why not kill the elderly who are old and dying and wasting oxygen? I think there is a difference between pulling the plug on someone who is, other than life support, dead, and pulling it when they're still obviously alive.
Maybe it's because we know humans have inherent value even when they have defects and disabilities and are old in age?
Up endless flights of stairs
To the top under the stars
so close they beckon
to those with broken hearts
Freedom from old hurts
as the widow walks
inside the rails
A ghost remembering
A mind grieving
A soul healing
And love is gathering
A space placed for rent
with melancholy bent
Brings hope for life
with less strife
Anticipation once again
to feel love, delirium
without the pain
and heartstrings throbbing thrum
To bring balance back
Emerging from the fog
crawling out of the bog
of depression's long attack