Posts tagged ‘philosophy’

May 30, 2011

Memorial Day

I never really think to much about this. As it turns out it’s just another day off, although today I chose to come into work. It’s the first time I have worked this particular holiday in eight years.

As always I sat on my front porch drinking coffee with my husband, reading emails, playing words with friends, checking groupon. The usual stuff. Not thinking anything about the day. It just a day. Then…….my iPad started beeping with all the site subscriptions I have. Everyone was writing about Memorial day in one way or another.

The lives that have been lost; the lives that have been forgotten. The injured. The found. Every life has a value to someone. Every person has been loved. Everyone gone remembered in some way by someone.

I work with Marines. I have lost friends, and acquaintances to war. I remember them often. The smile on their faces. The sound of their voice. The kindness in their hearts. The things they loved to do with their free time: skydiving, sailing, rock climbing, biking, etc. They are all amazing men.

At work guys don’t speak of the war much. I never really ask. Their home. There with family and the war is in the past, although I hear my share of stories.  Most are amazing and totally different than what you hear in mass media. It makes you wonder, so I no longer watch stories about the war.  The Marines are proud and I am proud of them.

I have meet boys who are now men that have lost their sight, their arms, their legs, the normal mental state. I used to feel sorry for them. I don’t anymore. They are proud of their misfortune. Proud of the job they have done. Willing to do it again without regret.

I don’t think about all I am grateful for everyday. I should. We have many freedoms that others don’t.  I should be more grateful. It’s a shame we need a day to celebrate the one who sacrificed. Those who have lost their lives for our benefit. Those who have sacrificed their lives for the ones they love. The country they love. It’s a shame that as a people we forget. We get so involved with the day to day we simply don’t have the time to remember. At the very least we have today.

In loving memory of my friend.

May 16, 2011

Perspective on raising girls

I often talk to parents about how they raise their children, daughters mostly. Mine has been a little more difficult than my son. In terms of raising her I tend to think psychologically as I wanted her to be balanced, and well adjusted.

When my daughter was two I was very new to the study of children. I should have known when she cried the first three months of her life she would be a challenge. I should have known when she skipped over the crawling and went straight to running I was in for it, but I didn’t.

When she was two and getting in trouble one day I sat her in a chair and told her to stay, like a dog I suppose. I told her if she got out of the chair I would spank her. I don’t know why. Spanking serves no other purpose than to hurt my hand, but that’s what I said. This played itself out several times and the only thing it got me was a sore hand. She never cried because her butt was covered with a diaper, but she did have fun tormenting me.

As the years passed the same situation presented itself over and over again in different scenarios mostly in the form of us screaming at each other. I never quite understood why until now that she would do anything her father said but fight me tooth and nail over the smallest thing.

Never does she have conflict with her father. If he asked her to do anything she does without complaint, because she knows this will pit him against her mother. If she severs their bond then she can becomes the leader. This can be her tribe. Dad always sides with mom but as a young child she never stops trying.

It’s just recently I hear people referring to their families as a tribes. It is the most accurate statement that can be made about the family unit. We are tribes. Preindustrialization, and modern man both men and women had roles to play. Although in the fifties era,  the Beaver Cleavers showed great signs of the separation of men and women in the home. Men went to work, they were hunters of food, protectors of the home. They were builders. The foundation of the very tribe in which they belonged. Women were the gatherers, the ones that nurtured the children into their appropriate place within the tribe. Women supplied the essence of tribes very life. Everybody has a job and they were clearly defined.

In the case of a mother and daughter. A daughter is meant for these things. I believe genetically. She is born to nurture, to supply the very essence of leadership that will one day support and guide her own tribe. Without her no tribe can exist. Now that’s not to say that boys and men do not serve the same functions in their roles but it’s clearly another essay. Females no matter the age are meant to do great things and conflict arises when there are two making the same soup.

My daughter from birth genetically, I believe, is a leader. All girls are. She wants to lead to take control of the tribe. She fights for this. She wants to make the decisions, and tells me no when she doesn’t like mine. It creates conflict, fights, a struggle between her very nature to be a leader and her age. This explains a lot about why little girls like dolls. They are playing the role of leader. Preparing for the day when she posses her own tribe.

When my daughter was three or four she wanted to pick her own clothes to wear. She wanted to make decisions, chose what she wore, what she ate, what cup she drank out of. These were all critical decisions that prepare her for life ahead. I let her do all these things. It actually makes my life easier. Now her choice is clothing hasn’t always been the best but it covered the parts of her body that needed to be covered so it was fine with me Because it is her peers that will judge her new look with blatant truth, I do not have to be the bad guy. It is her peers that become my greatest ally. They judge harshly and allow me to play the role of nurturer instead of dictator. They hurt her feelings when they say her outfit is ugly, or she’s fat, stupid, etc. To resolve this I get to tell her she is an individual, beautiful, brilliant. I get to educate her on proper nutrition, fashion, the three R’s of education. She turns to me and I become the hero, the caretaker, the wise one. It works in my favor every time.

As my daughter got older she found new ways to assert her leadership. She got bossy with everybody. The kids on the playground, our son, nana, papa, but never dad. She would tell her brother he was sick and he needed to stay in bed and home from school. She would command him to eat his veggies. Don’t throw sand at the playground someone could get hurt. Don’t go up the slide that way it’s not safe. She was being a mother and rightfully so. She is born to do this genetically, nurture, care for, emotionally tend to. We praise our daughters for these traits. We encourage these traits. This is her way of learning how to prepare for the future. How to be a mother. She immolates us because genetically that is what she is supposed to be learning in these early years.

As my daughter moves into the teen years she is afford more freedom to make tougher choices, more responsibility. She recently had to research a new school and find out if its a fit for her. She made the final decision and it coincided with mine. It worked naturally the way it’s supposed to. We have fewer fights because we work together for the greater good. I encourage her to make mistakes, take risks. She need only hear about my experiences but learn her own lessons.

I know a women that has three girls the oldest the same age as mine. She tells them how to dress everyday How to wear their hair. In fact she does it for them. They make no choices. None. They are told what sports they can play. The mother rules every aspect of their life. They have no freedoms. They are servants to their mothers will. Now this is extreme, but look forward ten years and picture what I see….rebellion and lots of it. Their mother has told me great, fantastical stories of her own rebellion but had not learned a single lesson from it.

There is not need to cuddle your child. The dress them, feed them, or rule with a heavy hand. Children by design know their path and are willing to tell us if we would only listen.

May 13, 2011


I’m going to venture out on a limb today and talk about God. My mom told when I was little that you don’t talk about religion or politics. I don’t. I rarely ever bring it up. Not even with my husband. Politics sends him on a rampage. He’s that guy. He listens to talk radio all day, so he is pretty well informed and has a strong opinion. I respect that, though our opinions differ on a lot of topics. Like most of us he sees the world his way, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I see the world mine, and we both agree to disagree. It keeps the peace.

God is something we both agree very strongly about. Not in the general go to church every Sunday sort of way though, and I am going to apologize right now if I offend you. Stop reading at any time.

When I was little I went to church most Sunday’s. We got dressed up and after church my mom would cook a feast. We all sat down at the table and made a picture perfect family. Nothing bad happened to me at church so it’s not where my opinion comes from. My opinion is based solely on the crazies out there.

The other day when I was at jury duty a man approached my in the parking lot. There was about a hundred people waiting to get in the building so I wasn’t intimidated. He wanted to talk to me about God. He was in his mid 20’s and was wearing a nice suit, and got one sentence out, before I went off.

First, (and I pause because I want to make sure he is listening.) you are not old enough to preach to me about god. I seriously doubt you have any worldly knowledge on the topic. With that I walked away. I’m sure he is a fine young man, but that’s the point he’s a man.

The bible is a book and like any other book it is left to ones interpretation. That’s the problem. Interpretation has lead us to war, rape, pillage, destruction, brain washing, etc. Interpretation is opinion. You have one and so do I. There is no other topic where interpretation enrages me as much as it does here.

I believe in god. I pray. What’s not to like about it. I have done the just this time god. I promise I will never do it again, until I do. It makes me human. I don’t pretend to be better than other people, I’m not. I follow the ten commandments especially the not killing people part. I try to do nice things and see other peoples side of the story. I’m a decent person I think. I might be wrong.

God is not the problem. Man is, and he’s frickin crazy, nuts, insane. I know that this may not apply to you, but it does apply to those who are. Take this war in Afghanistan, Palestine, Egypt all in the name of god. What about those catholic priests raping boys. God there to. What about the Mormons. Multiple wives, compounds, throwing young men out on the streets. God. Now I know Catholics and Mormons who are great people. In fact they are awesome and I am proud to know them. Only the nut jobs apply here, but there are enough of them to make me stay out of the churches and away from the cloth.

Who am I to judge you on your life. You have to do whats right for you. Make opinion where you have none. Follow your heart where ever it leads, but if it leads you into a church I’m not coming. When my dad retired he ran right to the church and became a pastor. He took some classes and boom he’s a pastor. Nothing wrong with that. He always wanted to go to seminary school. My grandma is the same. She’s 94 and watches the God channel all day. That’s fine. I have a client who’s a youth pastor. He’s awesome. I dig that that guy. None of this offends me, but I am not now and will never be willing to have a conversation about your interpretation of the bible. Nope never. God makes people do and say crazy things. Im not getting sucked into that.

Now that I’m thinking about I dated a guy when I was about 20. Everything was fine till he found God. We broke up. He wanted me to go to church with him every night, nope not doing it. He wanted me to take of Sunday’s from my job, nope not doing it. He turned crazy preaching all the time. I left. It’s simple. There is no other thing on this planet besides mother nature that has wrecked more havoc than mans interpretation of god. I want no part of it.

If all this means I am going to hell well then I hear they serve beer, sign me up. I don’t mean to make light of the situation. I respect your beliefs. I took a couple of classes on world religions in college. They were fascinating, and people are crazy.

May 13, 2011

From flowers we feast

I don’t pretend to be anything I am not. One thing that I am not is a gardener. I don’t have a green thumb so it is by chance that my garden is doing great.

For the last five years I have spent every weekend going to motocross with my son. Now life has afforded me a break. My daughter wants a social life and I am happy to oblige. She deserves it and I like staying home on the weekend.

My backyard was dirt and nothing else. Years ago I ripped everything out with the help of my golden retriever. She ate most of it. The sprinkler system is gone which is fine I don’t miss it, so I have to water by hand. I do this every morning at 7. It’s peaceful and I get to inspect all the new life and the damage from the bugs.

I for no other reason than the cost of lettuce I turned my whole back yard in to a vegetable garden. That’s how it started, lettuce. I love lettuce and I don’t want to pay a lot for it. So we set a plot dug the land with a shovel, made pretty little rows, planted seeds. It was fun. Something to do for a weekend. No big deal.

The next week came a I have to tell you I love a shovel in my hands. I love to dig in the dirt, so dig, dig, dig I did. As the days past I found that I had dug up my whole back yard with a shovel. I planted seeds, worked the ground, inspected the bugs, and even sought professional opinion. I took part in the process. I sowed the ground and I am excited about the outcome.

I now for a fact that I have enough produce back there to supply my whole street even after the bugs eat their share. I don’t mind the bugs. I don’t care if the have a great supper it might be their last. I don’t spray insecticides, but I go after them pretty fiercely. The pincer or earwigs are the worst. They destroy everything. I would rather have snails.

I think what really excites me about the whole thing is I am learning hands on. Amazing things happen over night. A whole new world opens before my eyes every day. I began planting in the middle of March and now it is the middle of May. At this point the only thing that my garden has produced is lettuce and spinach. The bugs eat a lot of the spinach but I am happy with what they have left. It’s easier to share than it is to be pissed off about it.

The plants are so big now. The tomato plants have flowers, the squash and zucchini plants have flowers etc.etc. I didn’t know that it is from the flower that the fruit comes. It’s the same with my orange and lemon tree. Flowers. At this point I feel that I kind of sound dumb, but I honestly never knew this. I also didn’t know you could east squash and zucchini flowers. Im excited to try this.

From the flowers we will feast, and a feast it will be. There will be plenty of zucchini, squash, Swiss chard, spinach, lettuce, arugula, carrots, potatoes. I also have a full of array of herbs. Truth be told I can’t wait. I have been experimenting with all kinds of herbs and vegetables in preparation for this day, and I must say I have done a fairly decent job. The chefs would be proud.

From flowers we will feast.

May 13, 2011


I love technology. I like everything about it except when it screws things up or doesn’t work at all. Recently I got an iPad not the two. I got the one because it was a hundred dollars off the list price. It by far without a doubt has to be my favorite thing in the world with the exception of my awesome husband and my amazing kids.

I love apples. I like the kind you eat to so it’s only natural that I would like Apple products. My first experience with apple was the iTouch. I wanted an mp3 player because I love listening to music. Music is all inspiring. Every song a lesson in life for the writer and potentially you. My husband bought me the first generation touch. It quickly became attached to me like an arm or a leg. I took it every where.

The second generation came out about a year later and he came home with that one. It had the Nike sync to it. I like to run and he thought that would be great for me. Secretly I knew he just wanted my old one. He always gets me the new and he gladly takes the hand me downs. He loves his techie wife that way. We sit on out front porch every morning and have coffee together read the news, write, chat, enjoy the beginning of the day. The iTouch’s have made it fun especially with all the free apps out there. We laugh while playing silly games and try to beat each others score. It’s a wonderful life

It was Christmas last year when we started looking to upgrade our first and second generations to the fourth. Our kids really liked playing on them so upgrading to the fourth generation was an easy decision. The kids could have the old ones. They love them as much as we do. Now the iPads were already out, but at the time it just didn’t seem practical. I couldn’t run with it. It didn’t seem reasonable to take it out to my garden to listen to music, so. I didn’t get it. It seemed to be pricey, but apple products are usually worth it. It was a tough decision.

When the iPad 2 came out we read the reviews. Listened to the hype and thought about it again. I didn’t want to give up my touch. I didn’t know if I would use it. I was lost in a pool of indecision. When the price dropped on the original iPad it made the decision easier a lot easier, but I didn’t want to get just one. I didn’t want to have what my husband didn’t. Its all about our morning time together, so I got 2 first generation iPads. One for my husband and one for me. We use them all the time. In fact we rarely us our desktops anymore. I take it to work to read or write. In fact I write 98% of everything on my pad. It goes along to jury duty, and the mall where I sit and wait for this or that. It fills the gaps in time where I did nothing and now I do something. I seem to waste less time. I seem to have more time for me to do the things I enjoy. It’s made my life convenient.

Apps makes everything possible. I have Instapaper so I can read website documents wherever I go. It’s one of my favorite programs and saves me the monthly fee of internet service. A program like this has been long awaited in my life. I got Pages and Numbers from the iWork suite. I love them all. Of course there’s the games when I just want to be mindless. I love the free books that the Kindle app has to offer. Theres learning apps for my kids, and some just great informational programs. All at your finger tips.

Technology has come so far. My fondest memory is the days of DOS. I can’t say I miss it. I don’t miss Windows that’s for sure. I love Mac, iPhone, iTouch, Nano, Shuffle, Mac book. Mac everything. I am the new trend Apples and Starbucks. The reason both companies are so successful, customer service, customer service, customer service. I am never disappointed or let down by either. Well except for the are occasion when they glitch out.

May 12, 2011

Jury duty

I know it’s my civic duty. That’s what they tell me. This is basically how it works. The judge holds my life, my mortgage in his hands. I won’t bother you with the boring specific details of my life. I am sure it is no different than yours. I wake up with the same concern and worries as the general public.

Where I live you have to have the judge release you from this civic duty, so I have to go no matter what. I have to go. I wouldn’t mind sitting on a trial. Not a death penalty trial the last for ever, but a basic trial that lasts a week or two wouldn’t be bad. I’m self employed, and I care for my mom, dad and my grandmother. They live with me. Now they are not in need of of constant medical care, they can care for themselves, but I pay for the roof over their head. They help care for my kids when I’m at work and I pay for the house. It’s simple, and there has never been a time that the judge hasn’t released me from this civic duty. All of the judges I have appeared before are compassionate men. They release people because the vacations planned during the trial dates, the self employed, those who do not get reimbursed by their employer. They care if for no other reason than it helps their jury needs. People are more willing to participate if the judge works with them.

I’m just saying and it’s only a thought. When you go on unemployment you should have to serve. The state is paying you and you don’t have anything to do anyways. Now that’s a general all encompassing statement. In the area where I live the jurys building has Internet, fax machines, copiers, and a classroom for home study kids. They have a break room with a fridge, microwave, coffee, tea, hot chocolate. They really set you up. They try to make you as comfortable as possible. My husband was off work for 4 months driving me crazy. He could have gone. I would have been thrilled. He would have been thrilled to do something. He could have still looked for a job, and let his new employer know he was serving jury duty which in most cases only takes a week or two. This is a broad spectrum generalization, but it could work.

What about the homeschool moms. They could serve. They school room has 3certified teachers. They take over your lesson plan. Educate you kids while you are at trial. If I was a homeschool mom I would be thrilled to do it. Its an experience for everyone. I don’t know that it would be that great for your kid who’s not used to sitting in the classroom. Maybe a judge could come in and talk to them, or give them a tour. It could work. It could be a great experience.

Then there is the people on welfare. They are already getting our tax dollars. You know where I’m going with this. What about retired people who don’t have jobs. My dad should serve. He could be a professional juror. I’m not sore what he does all day, but it ain’t much. It appears he’s bored. He would volunteer but they won’t let him.

These are just ideas, thoughts that I had. They may or may not work for everyone, but there they are. Jury duty isn’t that bad. I don’t want to do it because I’m self employed, and it’s a major hardship. Two, three weeks of wages would destroy my life. I kinda want to though. I get called to do it every 6 months. They got my number. It’s supposed to be every year but that’s fine. I deal with it.

May 11, 2011

Write about a mistake you can learn from?

There are so many to chose from. When I read this I thought it would be easy. A huge mistake I learned a lesson from. I guess all the little mistakes add up after a while.

I watch parents. I listen to what they have to say. I respect the fact that most try to be the best parent they can. Kids don’t come with handbooks. We all heard this from our mothers. Now that we are parents we understand. There is one thing that I find I learn the most from my kids. I say I’m sorry when I’m wrong.

When my parents were wrong and they were a great deal of the time. They never apologized. There word was law regardless. We had no voice and even if we did it meant very little. I see kids that face this situation all the time.

Kids have opinions, ideas about the world. They see through fresh lenses. They learn from us and god willing they learn something decent. I have bad habits. I say stupid things and pretend to know things I don’t. I don’t pretend to be a good mom, but I try.

Over the years I have apologized with tears in my eyes for being wrong. I didn’t listen. I jumped to conclusions. I got mad. I punished when I should have been praised. I wanted it my way, and I didn’t want them to see my shame. I was and am superior to them. I’m not.

Being wrong is part of life. It’s who we are. I don’t mind being wrong these day. In fact I cherish the moments when I can show humility. I have learned that this is not a dictatorship. It is a relationship and like a marriage or a friendship, and it has to be treated as such. I have to let my children make the wrong choices so they can make the right decisions. I am only here to help guide them down a decent path. Open their eyes to my experiences and let them make their choice based on that.

Children have a voice that should be heard. They are individuals who are nothing like us. It doesn’t always have to be done my way. There way might be better. Apologize it will bring a world of gifts. Children forgive like dogs. Lol.

For the mistakes I’ve made I have learned to apologize. I have learned to let go and move on. My children are great teachers.

May 11, 2011

Walk a mile

Walk a mile in my shoes

I was listening to pandora last night, Everlast. There is nothing I don’t like about his music. It has a southern soulful sound to it. It has a sense of meaning to me. I can relate. A song from Eminem came on, beautiful. I’m not a huge fan of his music but this particular song influenced me. If you get a chance listen.

I don’t pretend to know anything, no nothing at all.
I don’t pretend to be smart
I don’t pretend to be tall

Life has afforded me great things
But great things need life
I have failed them all

I’ve tried so hard
The tears I have wept
The promises I’ve made
The lies I’ve kept

I suppose this sums up the life each one of us has had to lead at one time or another. Those are not the words from is song. I didn’t want to copy. From the very poor to the very rich life is complicated. Money doesn’t change that or make it better. Emotionally it is the about the same, extracting the from the equation those who are insane, mental, you get the point. No matter who you are or what you do you have to dealt with the human plight of emotions. Walk a mile in sorrow, happiness, fear. I know there are you’s out there that can’t relate, can’t feel another’s pain because you have never faced the tragedy. You will in one way or another. You have in your on way.

When I was little I lived on the outskirts of tornado alley. I grew up in segregation and I’m not that old. I have seen devastation. I have had a friend die at the hands of a bomb in Afghanistan, been addicted to drugs, lied for the benefit of me, and never made amends for the things I did to another. I have been made the fool, made a fool of you. I have cheated; I have deceived. I have done terrible things as part of my life.

I have help a friend, showed kindness where there was none. I have cared about issues, stood my ground in the defense of others. I have brought two beautiful children into this world. I have cried for your pain, and lent a hand to the fallen. I have apologized for the feelings I hurt, and felt compassion for the wrong doings of others. I have brought happiness, love and joy where there was sorrow. I have done good things.

That should be about a mile if indeed it can’t be measured. You know me better, but there isn’t much there that is different from you. Maybe you weren’t addicted to drugs or seen a disaster first hand. Both are unique, tragic. The disaster is an act of mother nature. Tornados are amazing, incredible things until they destroy your home. Drugs. I loved them, but they destroy your life. Most who used will agree in one aspect or another. Segregation afforded me perspective. A mile in the shoes.

Nothing I have done that follows me down the road I am on serves regret. I don’t hide from the past. It doesn’t torment me. I don’t let it. My miles have been long. It’s been a dusty road. One that feels no sorrow for my pains. I don’t want it to. I made all my choices. I stand by all my decisions, every one no matter how stupid they were.

Walk a mile in anyones shoes and you will see that they are much like you. Every emotion we have is called the same. Everyday begins and ends the same. Every mile is measured the same. It’s what we do with those emotions that make us different.

May 7, 2011

Sweet sweet bitterness

     Like i have said before. I try to read my share of blogs. Your start to notice a thing or two about people. Some are happy we let those pass by without thought. They bring us happiness and we like that. There are times of sadness. We feel compelled to feel their sorrow. Bitterness, there is nothing sweet about it. it brings the need to judge, judge harshly. Why?

I am bitter because my life is not perfect. I do not have the things I want, my parents did me wrong in some way, my significant other cheated, lied, left. My kids, are always causing trouble. My job sucks. My friends are not true friends. Blah, Blah, Blah. I blame the world for my current condition.

I would like to say that I feel bad for you. That I feel your pain. Oh, I can relate, for some days just suck. I don’t feel bad for you though. I don’t feel your pain. In fact, I should not lower my expectations to yours. Honestly, I hope things get better for you, but I doubt they will with you lack of self worth or optimism, and in about five minutes I will either be gossiping about your plight or just moving on with my life. If at this point your angry then the shoe probably fit. My opinion. Im not trying to be hateful. I am trying to make a point

I would say that we do and we don’t have control of our destiny. I would say that you are the only person that can change your life. Bitterness like anger engulfs us. It take control easily. Its a whisper inside our very being that doesn’t stop talking. But what of the past: my parents beat me, my job was lousy, my husband is or was mean, controlling, cheating, my kids are on drugs, my dog bites people, I got a ticket for talking on my cell phone or speeding, All that is in the past is in the past. Leave it there. Own up to it and leave it there.

I have had a happy life. It’s still that way. There are things I do not like; things that make me angry, screaming mad. Those issues that made me feel this in the past will remain unchanged. I can not change them. I can’t go back. I have done and said things not to be proud of and memories haunt me from time to time. I feel my shame. Let it embrace and I am grateful. I am grateful I have learned a lesson. I have taken my punishment with grace and understanding. I sigh relief when the shame has passed. I know it will be back. It has a trigger that has not exceptions. It wants to judge me. I will not let it though I do not mind that it has come to visit. A reminder of all that I am today.

Life was not meant to sour, though I do believe there are tortured souls. Speaking in general we have to let go. We can prevent many things by letting go. My boyfriend cheated on me. He really hurt me. I don’t want to be hurt again. Soon as time goes you start dating again. You have nervous trust. One of many things are going to happen. One he’s a cheater to. In that case maybe you should evaluate the type of guys you like. Two, he’s not a cheater, and your wasting you time over the bitter past. The ice you lay before you is very thin. Your anxiety will drive him away. Three, and this is always possible, he may cheat on you 17 years down the road. In that case just walk away. Be happy for the great times and walk away. Why let the negative trump the positive. Why?

In any case you have control. With any past situation you have control. Your parents did you wrong in some way. It’s in the past and you have control. Your job fired you and you think it was done unfairly. Evaluate yourself be honest about your actions. You have control to change not only the situation, but yourself.

The truth hurts. It always has and always will when presented by the negative. If it is said your a loser, hateful, mean then maybe you are. Change, take control or accept who you are. It’s easy to be angry, difficult to be happy. I hear this. I don’t accept it. You shouldn’t either. Judge yourself harshly; find happiness in the day. Use the cliches; the silver lining, the kind jester. Don’t let what rightfully belongs to you be consumed by past demons.

May 7, 2011

I’m not going to lie

It’s been awhile but I said that a month ago.
It’s been a long journey this I know.
It’s been one step at a time.
A very slow pace.
I wish my legs would move faster but I must remember this is not a race.
An accomplishment here
Another day there
I’m getting better I swear
I started a garden where vegetables grow
I worked the ground to reap what I sow.
It’s all part of healing
But it just goes so slow
I miss the notes I used to play
I miss the words I write
The words I say
All of it the groove I was in
I miss it all where I had been
The past. The reflection.
The mirror of who I am