So wouldn’t you know it…

After my last post, a few things happened. One, my computer that is logged into WordPress and has the WP App on it got a wicked virus (likely from downloading some MP3s, as that’s the only unusual thing I’d done with it in recent memory – and no it wasn’t that hellish ransomware that went around and infected the NHS computers and such. Just a regular Trojan with a wicked hook deep in my system. Got it sorted though so it’s all good!) and I can never remember my login info half the time. So, that’s why no updates or anything since the 11th.

Secondly…. I injured the big toe on my left foot a mere hours after my last post about having better luck. The irony of this was not lost on me as I bandaged up my toe that night, laughing my arse off about it.

As a result of my toe injury, and where exactly it is at, I’ve been forced to take it easy and I’m not too happy about that. Plus side? I get to use the riding/electric carts at the grocery store. And while I’m not happy, at all, about having to slow down and ask for help until my foot heals and I can walk normally on it again, I am sort of grateful for my injury at the same time.

Since hurting my foot, I’ve been forced to be humble and admit I’m not super mom. I can’t handle everything all the time by myself. I can’t walk normally right now, and as a result I need a lot of help with things as simple as loading the car with laundry to go wash it, or unloading groceries because I can’t go up and down the front steps easily without a cane in hand. It’s made me have to stop. Breathe. And allow myself to be helped.

But it has also forced my husband to step away from his projects and come help me more often. My injury has, most importantly, forced us to spend more time together that otherwise I would be filling with more stressful chores, duties, and errands and he would be filling with more tinkering off in another room where he’s left alone to do, well, whatever it is he does all day. (At this point all I know is he is working on props for his costume for Dragon*Con.)

While I am enjoying the time, I’m also frustrated and can’t wait until I can plant my left foot firmly on the floor and walk to the toilet without wanting to shout angrily.

Oh well, such is life. Tomorrow is the first weekday of the Summer. My son’s last day of school was Friday. I’m going to spend approximately 2 hours at the library just because I need at least 2 hours a week to myself. My son going to school spoiled the crap out of me. He goes back, same teacher and same classroom, at the start of August. I’ve already got it marked on my calendar.

Rough patch, but not for me!

Has it really been about a month (maybe a smidge more) since my last post? Wow. Well, a lot has happened in that time, in my personal life.

Personally, it’s been a rough patch, sort of, but not for me personally. There’s a reason for this that I firmly believe is true. Anyway, so… My mom was diagnosed with COPD last month. We already knew she had it, but she’d avoided an official diagnosis for many years now. Having the “official” diagnosis on her records… well… it’s been tough for her to process. Plus side though? There’s a medical testing clinic right next door to her doctor’s, and we’ve already spoken with a woman from there about her potentially participating in medical trials for COPD medications. Most of what they do is compare generics to name brands, and one medication against combination drugs. It isn’t often that they do placebo testing. The practice my mom goes to caters to the poorest of the poor and those who can’t afford insurance of any kind. And by partnering up with this medical trial clinic, they’re able to get some people life saving medications and treatment that they otherwise would be unable to afford. And they have often taken people for repeat and multiple trials, so it’s not a situation of “we got what we wanted now get out”. They also often compensate the participants for their time and such, and do any testing out of their local office. While it’s not a guarantee, it’s at least a ray of hope for my mom when for years and years now she had none at all.

She also had an unrelated incident wherein she tripped over a chair at work. About a week after she went back from her severe COPD episode that had left her off work for a week. She was also out for a week for that because she nearly shattered her kneecaps from the way she had landed on the floor. Worker’s comp is covering the medical end of it, and if they don’t compensate her for missing work, then she’s got sick pay built up (and let’s not even discuss the couple of weeks worth of vacation pay she’s got built up as well).

On a similar note to the COPD thing, my husband has to set up a visit to a respiratory therapist at the hospital in order to find out if he’s in the early stages or if he just has asthema – all so he can get a nebulizer and medication for it to help his breathing as well.

As for me – I’ve been going crazy running around for everyone and everything that mostly I’m sore and stressed. But my luck seems to have changed when I received my new Medicaid and Wellcare cards in the mail…

You see, I’ve had this theory for many years now that my maiden surname was cursed in some form or fashion. The women of my dad’s family married and got different last names, and their luck seemed to have changed dramatically, and their lives improved (even the one who married a dead-beat before divorcing. The dead-beat had quite a lot of money that she got from the divorce). I noticed this within my immediate family as well. Out of 5 children, 2 had different surnames than myself. And even those 2 had different surnames from one another. My older brother, though not “successful” in the traditional sense, was well known and liked in town. Opportunities seemed to just fall into his lap quite often. He was happy, and though life wasn’t the greatest, he didn’t really have to worry about poverty like we did when we were kids. Things always seemed to just work out for him. One of my sisters who had a different last name, always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. She always had ways to get what she wanted, and whether she put effort into something or not, again – things always worked out for her no matter what.

Now, what got me thinking it might be my surname that was bringing me the bad luck, was 2 things. Anyone I knew in my extended family on my father’s side, if they had the same last name they usually were struck with the universe constantly shitting on them, or epic tragedy (such as major death in family, etc.) The other was that no matter what, I could set up the same exact situations as my half siblings, and go through the same actions, and with a probability of 50/50 I would meet failure each time. Now, at first I thought “well, can’t win ’em all. Maybe next time.” But more and more, things started to happen thad made me aware of odd things…

People in my immediate and my extended family who shared the last name always succumbed to major, life threatening atypical side effects of medications. Medical procedures always would go awry. Those with my last name were always the outlier that necessessitated surgeons and commercials alike to state things that were the most improbably, one in a million odds scenario due to legally having to say it even though it totally would never happen ever… we were the ones it always happened to.

Every family member I spoke to had similar experiences. Go in for a simple galbladder or appendix removal and BAM! Massive life threatening complications! That “We only tell you this because we’re legally required to, but the chances of this happening are literally infinitely small that we don’t see the point in telling you” group of people.

Well… I noticed a change to this… when my little sister got married. She and I share a maiden name and when she got married, holy crap did events governed by sheer luck alone begin to change for her. And it was an immediate difference.

When I got married, I was not expecting the sudden influx of things that just seemed to always work out. Everything from parking spaces at Wal-mart (I used to have to park at the very end of the farthest corner just to even get a spot. Now, I get first unmarked space next to the handicaps on a regular basis.) to weird medical situations. In the last 3 1/2 years, I’ve had symptoms mimicking a stroke and a heart attack, but when I get checked out – nothing but weird indigestion. Or an odd muscle spasm due to my back of all things. And I mean mimics CLASSIC UNDENIABLE SIGNS of these things – which is why it scares the shit out of me every time it happens and I go rushing to the ER with it.

But here’s the thing – in that 3 years, I’ve still had crazy things happen. Severely unlucky and unfortunate things despite my legal name change… because I could never get everything updated to 100% married name status. My medical records? Until I get back to the doctor and update my records – it’s all still in my maiden name. Since I got those cards in the mail though, the last scrap of my old name now gone for good, things have been working out quite well.

Now, I know it might just be all in my head, but I truly believe, given a long and thorough look at my family history, there might be a kernal of truth to this theory.

Anyway, my son’s nearly done with school for the year and then summer break!

I’ve got some books to read.

Pineapple cookies and the Library

Today, I actually woke up well rested. This does not happen very often considering my bad back, knees, and a toddler. After having had a good night’s sleep, I took a slow start to the day. Had a perfect cup of coffee made by my husband (no joke – I can make my coffee the same exact way and it still isn’t as good as when he makes it). And a leisurely morning. Made my son some lunch, actually remembered to have a bite to eat myself today, and then set about making some cookies.

I had a mix in the cabinet that I had admittedly been afraid to try. So afraid that it sat in my cabinet an entire year before I finally got up the courage to make it. Spongebob Squarepants cookies. Complete with edible decals. No big deal, right? Well… they’re pineapple flavor. I like pineapple. I like it in rings; I like it in chunks; I like it in smoothies. But I don’t like it on pizza. Nor in a cake. So I was very apprehensive of trying it in cookie form. The only reason I’d bought it is because it had been on clearance and my son likes Spongebob Squarepants.

Today, I went with the mantra of the tired mom and just said “fuck it”, then made the mix. The cookies themselves were easy to mix up with just an oversized plastic spoon. The cookie dough was nice and smooth, easy to pull apart and roll into balls. Easy to press in order to place the decals. My oven’s weird and I had to pull them out about 2 minutes early to keep them from burning.

Mom liked the cookies. My son can take ’em or leave ’em. I find them disgusting. My husband thinks they’re good. Not super great, but okay. Not the worst thing he’d eaten. Thank goodness I only made 18 of them (there were only 18 decals). I could have made more if I wanted to make smaller cookies. After they cooled and I was able to put them away for later, I got my son ready for a trip to the library.

My mom worked this afternoon/evening so she had the car. No big deal, as I need to walk a bit anyway. So I loaded the kid up in the big kid stroller and headed up the road. My son loves the library. He loves running up and down the aisles of the children’s section. Sitting at the little tables and arranging the chairs just so. They keep wooden puzzles and games for all the kids to play with, and boy does he love playing with the puzzles! There’s also a large wooden cube big enough for 6 kids to play with that has lots of different activities built onto it on every side save the bottom. This is his favorite part of visiting the library.

After he tired himself out, I loaded him back into the stroller and we wandered around the library looking at DVDs and some books for me to read. I found 2 that look promising. One is called The Little Green Book of Chairman Rahma and is by Brian Herbert, son of late sci-fi legend Frank Herbert (author of the original Dune series). I’ve just started chapter 3, and so far it has a very pro-environmental tone… but the blurb on the inside cover promises that Eco-friendly utopia isn’t all it seems and there’s going to be mutants and a a possible end of the world type of scenario involving dark matter. I can’t wait. Of particular note about the book physically is that all of the text inside is in green. It’s a nice touch, given the title and the subject matter… however it does make it a bit difficult to read when I’ve got my floor lamp set to night-light mode, as the light emitted is a soft and calming blue/green.

The second book I picked up is called Counting Heads and was written by David Marusek. The blurb on the back of this one teases of a story set far into the future where the elites of mankind have found the secret to immortality. Nearly everyone who is anyone is immortal, and has some form of cybernetics. Life is measured in centuries… but the main character finds himself caught up in a situation of mixed up identity and he is stripped of his status, his immortality and cybernetics, and is labeled a terrorist. The only thing keeping him afload is that he is married to one of the most powerful women on Earth. Apparently there’s ging to be attempted murder on his family members, and his daughter’s head is stolen. Certainly this one looks interesting to say the least.

After a bit, my son started getting very fussy, so I checked out and headed back towards home. I realized only after we passed by a lawn being mowed that I had forgotten to use my Flonase this morning. It being late in the afternoon anyway, nearly 5, I was grateful that I had made too much chicken soup for dinner yesterday, so I took out the pot and reheated it. I’d had enough foresight to save the left-over cornbread.

Now, as I sit here, winding down for the night, I’ve got a nice hot cup of cocoa. Curled up under my TARDIS blanket, watching one of the DVDs I picked up today (the animated reconstruction of the 2nd Doctor’s first adventure, Power of the Daleks), and waiting for my son to finally get to sleep.

Ramble: Small Town Blues

I have a love-hate relationship with small towns. When I lived in Debary, then later Deltona, FL I loved it. They were small in their own right, but smushed together so closely it felt like a larger city. It was perfect, really. And had easy access to anything I needed via public transit. The town I currently live in, the town where I grew up… I love it because it’s so peaceful (usually) and reasonably quiet. It’s a kind of place where everyone either knows everyone, or you know of them enough to wave and say hi, have a great day.

But at the same time, it is this “everyone knows everyone” aspect that I hate. It’s the inconvenience when there is no public transit that I hate. It’s the inconvenience of everything being so spread out that I hate. Being such a small town that if I want to catch a special showing, one night only event at a movie theatre, I have to drive out to Rome or Atlanta to do so (Rome is about 45mins to an hour away; Atlanta is abut 2-3 hours depending on traffic).

But most of all, it’s the higher likelihood of bumping into people you’re not exactly fond of (to put it lightly) when you step out the front door. This has happened to me exactly 3 times in the month.

First, my husband and I bumped into a guy we both met around the same time in 2013. We’ll call him, uh, “Rob”. When we each met Rob, he was in a long term relationship. But he and his girlfriend wanted more. They wanted to be in an open relationship. And hey, that’s fine. I got no right to judge. Well, turns out that Rob wanted me to be his fool around buddy. Just like his girlfriend, we’ll call her “Margo” had already hooked up with the man that later I would end up with. (It must be noted at the time that my husband and I were not dating yet. We were both single. It must also be noted that meeting him and these 2 people, and when we DID start dating happened in the span of 2 weeks.) Between meeting my husband, and meeting these two people, whom he met at the same time, and when my husband and I started dating, the following happened: Rob and Margo fought daily, resulting in a domestic violence situation. Margo pulled a knife on Rob. Rob pulled a knife on Margo. Margo lost her shit and pulled a knife on the landlord. Rob repeatedly tried to get into my now mother-in-law’s pants (despite her frequent protestations of being a lesbian), continuously tried to flirt with me and having the goal of sleeping with me, and Margo doing the pants off tango with my future husband (again, during this 2 week period, my husband and I were NOT dating one another, and I didn’t really care what all he did because he was just a friend). This resulted in false claims of abuse, rape, and a fake pregnancy. This all came out at the end of 2 weeks when Margo’s aunt tried to step in and defend her niece, only to discover it was 100% made up and she slept with someone else of her own free will, was not pregnant, and was the primary abuser in her own domestic situation. And that ALL of the drama stemmed from the fact that she got booty outside of their “open” relationship while Rob was continuously turned down and rejected… because it was Rob’s idea in the first place.

Needless to say, it was rather awkward seeing Rob again after nearly 4 years – jobless, homeless, and with another woman. We gave him $2. I told him about different places in town that were hiring, and then husband and I quickly went on our way to Gamestop, then dinner. This encounter reminded me to appreciate my relationship with my husband, and our narrow escape from the drama llamas that were Margo and Rob.

Next up, we’ll call her “Penny”. Penny was my brother’s fiance up until his death in January 2014. Generally a decent person, we lived with her after my son was born, up until August of 2014. While she herself is generally decent, one of her kids caused multiple problems while we were living there, resulting in potential legal issues simply because we happened to live with her. Penny’s daughter, however, was taken into the foster care system for reasons I’ll not divulge. Penny is a decent parent, but her daughter is an out of control fucking monster. Penny knows this. However, Penny also lied to us about the situation and tried to use us as a shield so that her daughter could not move back in. She also lied to us about how her court proceedings would affect us – this resulted in us having to move out in 2 weeks or less with no notice. She was upset that we didn’t pay the next month’s rent… rent and all utility bills for a place we would no longer be living in. What we DID do was give her our share of the utilities up to the point we moved out, even though we were under no obligation to do so. And rather than hand the money over to her like she had wanted, we went directly to the offices and paid only our share, leaving the rest for her to deal with. She had also lied and said the landlord had not wanted to add our names to the lease. After we moved out and were settled in, I contacted the landlord. He was surprised to learn we had moved out, as he had been expecting Penny to be moving out and us to take over with a new lease. He had also been willing to lower the rent because my husband was on disability.

Well… I bumped into Penny oh, about a week ago at the laundromat. First time I’ve seen her, really, since we moved out. Life has not been kind to her. That daughter I mentioned? Made Penny a grandmother, and Penny is raising the baby. She’d bought a trailer, and had to give it up again. Her mother, last I knew, lived on her own in low income housing. A nice little place, too. Now she lives with Penny and her roommate. In the time since we moved out, with the exception of my Asshole Neighbor Eddie and my older sister whom I’ve written about before, we’ve actually been doing much better physically, emotionally, and financially. Our lives have been more stable, and less drama filled (again, with the exception of the 2 things mentioned above). Bumping into her made me remember to appreciate what I have gained and what I have.

And lastly… that dastardly sister who lived with me for a good chunk of 2015 (as read about in my Word to the Wise series of posts…) For those who don’t want to read that clusterfuck, here’s the long and short f it. I let my sister move in, in good faith that she would maintain the progress that she had made, and look for a job. Four months or thereabouts fly by, I’ve had enough, tell her to get a job. All hell breaks loose and we end up falsely imprisoned in our own home, scared out f our minds, and she threatens to have my child taken away for the sole fact that she had her kids taken from her and I made her upset by telling her to get a job or get out. We finally managed to kick her out. But the lasting damage to my marriage, and to my mother’s mental state, is still evident. Last we knew, she had gone to Savannah. We haven’t seen her since my mom stopped by her motel a few days after we kicked her out, to let her know my dad was dead.

Well… I saw her Saturday. Same laundromat as Penny. Thankfully, unlike with Penny, I was already done and loading up my car when she showed up. I noticed her getting out of a car that happened to have parked right in front of me. I was halfway through loading up my car when she came back out of the laundromat and called me out by name to say hi. Needless to say, given her history with me, I wanted out of there ASAP. I did try to be kind-of polite because hey, we were in a public place. But still… it had me rather shaken up. If I was a drinker, Saturday is the day I would have switched from beer to whisky, that’s for certain.

So what did I learn from THAT encounter? Well… it might be time to look for another laundromat. Unfortunately, that one is the only one with free wifi.

Ah, higher frequency of awkward and unwanted reunions. Such is the price we pay for quieter, more relaxed and peaceful living.

Go check out The Snowless Knitter!

One of my best friends just started a blog here on WordPress. She’s a knitter who lives in Central Florida and she’s dipping her toes back into blogging after a VERY long time. As I’m writing this post, she’s got one post up so far. What will she post about? Well, honestly I don’t entirely know, but I’m sure it’ll be interesting. So head on over to The Snowless Knitter and welcome her to the world of WordPress!



Personal Health Goal

My health, as I’ve spoken on in the past, is not the greatest. Hasn’t been for quite some time. To quickly rehash for newer followers of my blog – I fell down the stairs no less than 3 times in 2014 (they were carpeted) thus resulting in tailbone damage that complicated a pre-existing undiagnosed condition that no doctor had been willing to even do an x-ray for let alone treat me. I’ve also been diagnosed with degeneration of a ligament in my left knee – all of this on top of various and sundry health issues that have led to a clusterfuck of mobility problems.

Unfortunately, because I am unable to move adequately and maintain steady levels of basic activity due to my physical limitations, I’ve become sedintary. This has primarily contributed to my weight problems in the last year. In the last month, I’ve put on 10lbs, bringing my weight to 299lbs. I have not been 300lbs in 15 years, and I don’t plan on letting that happen again.

i’ve talked with my husband a bit, and he’s going to keep on me about my activity. Knowing my body, and that I burn out quickly to begin with when I go from 0 activity to 100 with no warning, I’ve decided to start out with light activity. Just to work off the water weight to start with (as when I was last weighed, I had also been at the tail end of my… ahem… monthly visitor so I was retaining quite a lot of water at the time) and once my body is used to the regular activity, bumping it up a bit. In the past, my body has responded much better to a stepping-stone method rather than a sudden strict regime.

Since my son has started special needs preschool, I have the time each day to work the activity in without having to worry about my son getting underfoot or in the way. And on Saturdays, I’ve decided to take my son to the library. It’s a gentle incline/decline depending on which route I take, and it’s about 2 blocks away from my home. A neighbor gave us a really good stroller that is easier for me to handle, and the handle is actually much higher than my son’s old one, which takes a lot of the strain off my back from having to hunch over. It’s got a handy compartment on the bottom, so it is easier for me to stow away the books and things I get at the library, and i’m not having to fumble with my son’s bag as well as books, etc.

I’m also taking advantage of the weather change since cold weather causes my sciatica and arthritis to flare up to levels that make me nearly completely immobile (winter is hell for me), so the warmer weather now will help keep my conditions from flaring so badly that I give up and put it off.

Exercise alone isn’t going to do the trick though, so I’m limiting my coffee intake, and what I put in it. Also my tea intake. And well pretty much anything that isn’t water. I’m also using Gatorade for the days that I’ve been pushing myself past my limitations, as it quickly replenishes my sodium and sugar levels without leaving too high an impact (I use the powder, and use less than half the stated amount on the container per 16 fluid ounces). And rather than using all those sugar free flavor pouches and drops and such (the artificual sweeteners make it absolutely undrinkable to me flavor wise) I’ve started putting in a tsp of straight lemon juice and a tsp of straight lime juice to make a sort of lemon-lime water. I’ll start doing that with other fruits down the line as well when I get a new magic bullet.

I’m also taking closer looks at my calorie intake, my carb intake, and my cholesterol intake. My goal right now is to get back down to 250lbs. I don’t care how long it takes, I just want to get the weight down. Once I get to that goal, I’ll set a new one. But right now, I need to get that number to drop!

I’m currently thankfully not diabetic, but I believe i may be pre-diabetic. I already have enough medications I have to take daily to deal with my pain issues – I don’t need to add more meds on top of that.

So, that’s where I’m at right now. I’m also working on a writing/blogging project, but I’m putting it off for a month because I want to establish my health routine first. Then I can see where I can fit in my writing project.

Plus side, my husband’s fully behind me, and is wanting to get himself back into shape too. So I know he’ll hold me accountable if I cheat.

Mind you, I’m still going to indulge from time to time with some cookies, cake, or a burger. but I’m not going to sit and eat an entire package of cookies, a whole cake, or three burgers in one sitting (with the single exception being the quadruple bypass burger challenge at the Vortex because I’ve always wanted to do a food challenge at a restaurant and it’s an $80 burger if you don’t finish it in the time alotted but darn it I want to try!… at least, someday).

But first…. dropping down to 250lbs.

Ramble: On Inspiration, Creativity, and the Lack Thereof

He stood in front of the Untempered Schism. It’s a gap in the fabric of reality through which could be seen the whole of the vortex. We stand there, eight years old, staring at the raw power of time and space, just a child. Some would be inspired. Some would run away. And some would go mad. – The Doctor (David Tennant); “Doctor Who: The Sound of Drums”, 2007

Since 2005, I have had a very deep fondness for Doctor Who, both the revival/current running series and the classic stories from the childhoods of those who’ve come before me. But every Whovian has that one line, that one special monologue or quote or scene that really touched them in a meaningful way. For many it’s the First Doctor’s farewell speech to his granddaughter Susan when he leaves her to find a new life and to settle down with a man she has come to love. For others, it’s the Fourth Doctor’s statements following his refusal to prevent the creation of the Daleks, questioning whether or not he made the right decision but also certain that without the Daleks many races who came together to fight them would otherwise be fighting one another. And need I even bring up the various speeches given by the Sixth Doctor during “Trial of a Time Lord“?

For me, it has been, since it’s first utterance on screens across the globe, the quote above. It really hit me right in my feels, and evoked a very powerful emotional response in me. I know everyone has their own interpretations of, well, anything and everything really. Even reality. So just because I’m about to go on a long diatribe about mine, it doesn’t mean your interpretation is any more wrong or right than my own.

That segment of dialogue inspired me in a point in my life that was still… dark. It was looking up. I’d gotten a job that year that I loved dearly. I made friends in college, I was doing well in school. But emotionally I was a train wreck. Problems at home caused me to become very withdrawn from my family and I spent more and more time losing myself in my fantasy worlds – be it through writing or artwork, movies and video games. But, as was always the case – Doctor Who was the thing that started to get through to me. At the time, I saw it as “It’s okay to be scared out of your mind. No one knows what the future holds, and even if you were staring it down it could always change tomorrow. Nothing is set in stone. You can let yourself go crazy worrying about it, be inspired to change it, or keep running away in fear of it.” And at the time I was so sure that is what it meant. It gave me hope and reassurance in a really crazy time in my life.

Years later, as I’m periodically putting the series on for background noise as I clean, write, knit, cook, ecetera, I hear it and feel… something else entirely. Now I read those words and I am reminded of all the wonder of childhood. The wild imaginations and dreams and hopes and… and then… the drudgery of life and growing up. And losing that sense of childish wonder we come into the world with. Eight years old is around the time kids in school start getting reigned in. And over the following decade of their lives the creativity, the wonder, the imagination, the excitement is stripped away in order to “make them productive members of society”. To “prepare them for the real world”. No, it doesn’t make them productive. It doesn’t prepare them for the real world. It makes people apathetic. It makes them ignorant of their own potentials. Keeps them from aspiring to be more, to be better people, or to better the world around them. It makes them accept the mediocre and makes them wholly reliant on others to tell them what to think and how to feel. It teaches them that individuality is inherently wrong and that in order to succeed they must conform 100% to someone else’s ideals and morality rather than their own. It creates drones who’s sole purpose is to do as they are told, when they are told, how they are told, and that it is pointless to ever want to work towards something more, especially for the self. And many who manage to get through it all, and manage to build themselves up, twist the system to their own benefit, and shape others to their own brand of ideals and morality. It does not matter if you are left or right. Liberal or conservative. Blue. Red. Hell purple with pink polka dots and from Pluto. The fight to get to the top of the food chain twists us all in some way, and rather than seek out the better and the new for others as well, we turn it back to that which created and shaped us, feeding it to others. Stripping THEM of their uniqueness and shaping them to meet OUR standard. And so the cycle continues.

I could go further into a long political diatribe at this point, but I’ll save that for another time. Besides, I’m pretty sure ALL OF US are tired of EVERYTHING being made into a political statement at this point…

We NEED creative people. We NEED imagination. Creativity and imagination lead to hoped and dreams, which drive people to be inspired. I know it’s old hat at this point to use the “I bet everyone thought the first person to build a fire was crazy” example but let’s just imagine a world where say… toilet paper was never invented. It’s a pretty gross world and I’d bet you wouldn’t want to eat anything someone hands you, or, well anything that anyone else has even touched… guess it was a really great thing someone was inspired to take some paper and wipe their behind after going to the loo, isn’t it? Otherwise we might still be using hands, or worse – corn cobs (which apparently was a thing in rural America according to my maternal grandmother… so… that’s a thing that people actually used to do).

There’s more to it for me, but it’s getting rather late as I write this and I need to get some rest as I’m meant to be getting up at 6:30AM (it’s currently 12:30AM as I write this bit here) so I’ll save that for a part 2 or something.

But the point of this post is… we won’t be able to break the chains that restrain us, that strip us of our hopes and dreams, that hold us back from our creative natures and inspire us to do more, to be more – we won’t be able to end the cycle until we stop trying to force our ideologies on the next generation. Stop insisting that every weird, odd little quirk needs to be stopped and corrected. Stop forcing our own ideals and standards on them. Give them some structure, yes. Teach them fundamentals like right and wrong, manners, how to share and be kind to others, definitely. But also we must encourage them to learn. To explore. Imagine. Play. Build. Draw. Sing. Dance. Read. The more we feed their creativity, the more we feed their imaginations, the more they will dream. The more they will hope. The more they will be inspired to do great and wondrous things. We used to be like them – collectively as a human race we’ve done so many great things. Some of us looked at the moon and wondered “what’s it like up there?” And others stood there and looked out further still and wondered “what’s out there?” – Without the dreamers, we’ve seen a generation where the space program has been stripped to it’s bare minimum. Where people obsess over what some reality show bimbo said about some other reality show bimbo’s husband. We’ve seen an entire generation of young people enter the “real world” with nearly all of their wonder and drive stripped from them at an early age, to “prepare them” for the big bad “real world”… and I hate to say it but all that preparation has failed, leaving an entire generation where going five minutes without checking Twitter can lead to severe panic attacks or worse – destruction of property and assault.

So please, PLEASE we as just people need to change this. My generation is pretty much a lost cause if today’s social climate is anything to go by. But the next one, and the one after that? They are all waiting to be tempered. Do we continue to strip them of everything that can help bring change for themselves and for their peers? Or will we instead inspire them to do better, to be better than we ever could be?

Okay, now I’m done for tonight. Nearly half an hour after my last time stamp (it’s now 12:56AM).