Monthly Archives: October 2010
I’m doing fine, more or less. Adrift in a sea of discontent with only my myriad number of thoughts as company, but it’s probably just a phase I’m going through. I know that I’ll be ok, one day at a time. That’s one of the many key elements to finding happiness; just accepting one moment as it comes. Happiness is something you have to work at. Funny how no one tells you that. Maybe it’s one of the great truths that you have to discover for yourself.
The kind of writing that I’ve been doing seems to require a different frame of mind. Being able to see another character, how they live and breathe, motivations, tends to shove my own narcissism to the back of my mind. It’s difficult, for me, to switch gears.
So…a brief run down on what’s going on in my life:
I’m having difficulty NOT over eating. It’s really tempting to munch away at whatever’s at hand.
Working at home is a dream come true. I love it. I don’t miss my co-workers much.
Diabetes? Meh. My control of it could be better. Could be a lot worse.
Yeah, that’s how I’m doing. I’ll see if I can write more later on…I gotta get to bed.
The avarice for the pretty bracelet, that is such an ugly word by the way, lit up Mamma’s face like a fireworks display. I don’t know why she had a hunka burnin’ love for that trinket. Maybe it was only because she hated Mrs.DuMont
Her hatred of Mrs. DuMont piqued my curiosity. My Mamma had her faults, the liberation of other people’s belongings–or rather, kleptomania–being one of them, but she was a good hearted woman with a generous soul. My Mamma always had a plate of warm cookies for the neighborhood kids and gave of herself to everyone. Like I said, she was a good woman–barring the irritating habit of stealing what were really invaluable objects from people.
I knew they were of the same age. So I went through Mamma’s childhood memoribila and uncovered a startling truth; they had gone to high school together. Mrs. DuMont was a cheerleader and Mamma was a yearbook editor. Yeah, back then it pretty much meant that she was a lonely and nerdy girl. Like Your Truly.
Only the good missus was known back then as Anna Sue Claremont. And Clark DuMont had been my mamma’s boyfriend? That I didn’t know. She hadn’t even breathed his name in my presence…
(Author’s note: This is a story. In no way, shape or form part of my real life.)
Mamma has always had a love for other people’s possessions. Maybe it was ‘cause she had little of her own where she grew up. She regaled me over and over again with stories of just how meager her childhood existence was in comparison to mine. She told those stories to me when I had been particularly ‘ungrateful’, i.e. bad in school, accidentally broke a toy, or didn’t want to share with my brothers who would oftentimes destroy my favorite things on purpose. I got back at them later when they started to date. Somehow, I made sure their baby pictures were always seen by their girlfriends, and they knew why I embarrassed them too. I haven’t heard from any of them in a few years. I do so hope they are fine.
Anyway, I digress. Back to Mamma and her stories of her frugal girlhood and eventually her love of possesions that she didn’t possess. It got her into trouble one not- so-long ago day.
One thing I was never sure of after her lectures; was I supposed to feel guilty or glad that my parents gave me a brighter future? Did it depend on the mood Mamma was in? I thought about asking Mamma, but she had a quick temper sometimes. She was never abusive, but her words had a tendency to cut deep into me. When she noticed, she always gave me a hug and minded her tongue for awhile.
Then, at a church, she saw an amethyst bracelet that she wanted for her own. Trouble was, it belonged to Mrs. Clark DuMont, someone who was always showing Mamma up by raising more money for the church’s charities and liked to rub it in. I don’t blame Mamma for not liking Mrs. DuMont, hardly any of us poorer people did, but I knew something was up by the way she looked at Mrs. DuMont.
Heard his sweet words
Trusted in them
Made you soar like a bird
Took your trust, used it
tossed you aside
in favor of a new girl
Don’t listen to a beautiful lie
When the ebb of passion subsides
Faith will fade like a gossamer web
Never believe when someone
Says you are special
‘You may be, but only for the moment
Words, cheap as sun
mean nothing to anyone
seek to hurt and maim
and bring you to down to a valley of pain
Ignore them, all of them
that say you’re beautiful
but neglect to show you
Fuck them all
let the liars burn
in their shame
Don’t share your passion
that rare inner
that belongs to only you
with those born of cruelty
Let it burn for the One
who proves your beauty
through his deeds
Hey! How are ya?
Been busy. Yes. Same stuff, different day.
Oh, the Westboro Church? The very same people who say the gays are responsible for all our dead soldiers? (Of course, their logic is flawed. I mean, how would that account for all of the people that rest in Arlington cemetery?) Well they are in court over the First Amendment, because of their right to free speech.
The father of one of the slain soldiers is suing them, claiming harassment. I think he’s right, or at least has a point. He has the right to mourn his son properly, without being hounded by anyone–whether they be anti-gay or anti-war. Do I think he’s entitled to any money? No, but he deserves to get an apology out of the nutcases. But I would like to see them barred from crashing any more funerals.
Protests do NOT belong at a funeral. Period. If they want to protest on their own property or another property with the owner’s approval? Fine. At least their idiocy will be contained. But we need to weigh freedom of speech against other people’s freedom to not be subjected to more emotional distress.