Read the Printed Word

Read the Printed Word!



You Make Crazy Fun

You Make Crazy Fun

Sunday, July 12, 2015

The Comfortable Divide

"Kids are not born racist. You know what my kid hates? Naps."-Denis Leary...paraphrased.

I was born in Wonder Bread country Wisconsin. I did not grow up in a culturally diverse area. I did not see my first black person until I was 16 years old. What I did grow up around is plenty of Native Americans, which is one of the reasons why I tend to back Native American causes before any other minority. Wait. Did I just sound a bit racist there, in my exclusivity? To the untrained, ignorant eye it does.

My mother was and still is a racist. She does not like Asians. Especially, individuals from Southeast Asia. That is what a war can do to some people. There are still folks who aren't to fond of the Japanese, or Koreans. My mother was insulated from minorities also, and was shocked when she saw a black person, in the town that I spent my youth. I wasn't shocked, because I didn't care. Easy for me not to care, because I am white...right? When I say that I don't care about a person's race, or color of skin, what that means is that they are a human being and will be judged by me accordingly. I can't believe that I just had to explain that. Should I also explain that I do judge people, and that judging people is not a bad thing? 

There is a division that has occurred since the first person saw another person who was different than them. The difference could be religion, sex, creed, ethnicity, race, or color. What humans don't understand they make an automatic response that what they don't understand is bad therefore a line has to be placed between that person and the "bad" different person. We. All. Do. It. What we fail to understand, we push away.

I can admit that I will push a person away from me; at first. When I allow myself to understand the individual, I will either be cool, or send them on their merry little way. Any person can be victim to this, and my reaction has nothing to do with the who, what, where, when, and how of the person. This is my defensive nature. I do not place a line, until necessary. I will not like a person based on their character. Not their politics, religion, or color of skin.

The petty nature of our society forces people to be shallow, and not look beyond the superficial. People make the choice to be petty, and not do their homework. Some of these people can be taught, and some cannot. I know the difference. Usually, if a person starts to ask more questions about a person; the person inquiring can be educated. 

We live in a technology wonderland. This has stunted our ability to communicate properly with each other. Want to have a serious conversation about race, or any other "taboo" subject....give me a ring. Don't you dare text me.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Essays: The Cure for my Laziness

I have been thinking a lot about essays. Mostly what topics that I should talk about. The list is endless, so why am I having such a difficult time starting to write essays? Laziness. That is my fucking block, to my writing. I write so much, for college, that I don't want, nor do I have the desire to write leisurely. 

I need to get off my dead ass and start writing essays. They are cathartic for me, and essays are a different way for me to express what I am thinking. 

When shall I start?

Saturday, June 21, 2014

She Cuts Loser Into Her Arm

Oh the emo child that I am not. I am an emotional woman; mostly anger, and frustration. I act out of stupidity most of the time. The confession I am about to make is a confession that I think I need to spill after 13 years.

I am a cutter. Some of my 5 readers already know this, but there are others who do not, so there is my confession. I get off on cutting myself. Not, literally, but cutting is a release for me.

I need to cut when the shit, in my life gets to be a bit too much. My personal life is in shambles. My work life, which I thought I was making better has fallen apart. My spiritual life is the only part of my life that hasn't taken a big dump. But, I still cut myself.

I have forgotten what is important too me, so I cut to feel something. Anything. I think I feel love, but I am not sure. I think that I enjoy activities that I once did, but I don't. My depression does not help matters. I cut so I can see that I am still human, and not just a pill popping zombie. I cut myself, tonight, and it felt fantastic. 

Say what you may about cutting myself, but am I hurting you? No, and the little pain that I feel as the razor blade goes into my skin is nothing compared to the pain that my mind puts my body through every fucking day. Judge if you wish, and call me an emo child, but I know why I take that razor blade to my skin. You are only getting snippets of the torment.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Don't Blink

The line between fantasy and reality gets blurred for me. When life throws shit at me, all I can think of is "I want my imaginary friend to come and take me away in a blue box." RUN! Those who are in the know will get what I just typed.

I don't want to sleep anymore, because of have dreams that should have been. I wake up crying, sometimes. Sometimes, I don't even want to get out of bed. These are all first world problems...of course. I almost feel guilty about feeling the way I feel, but why shouldn't I feel the way I feel? Or don't feel, at times. 

I am not sure anymore. Projects to do. Writing to accomplish. Stacks of books to read. A master's degree to manage. Oh, and just life. I want a life. Crazy man in a blue box take me away!

Friday, May 2, 2014

Dear Robyn

Dear Robyn,
Did you not think I would get to you at some point? You are the biggest ghost. What the fuck have you done to me? I am a 38 year old loser and I blame you.

Why couldn't you have stood up to your bitch of a mother? You were not meant to be an athlete. You just wanted to read, write, and be an academic. But, you allowed others to ruin those wishes, and wants. Why? Why did you allow this to happen? You were to weak to stand up for yourself. You needed psychiatric help after you dad passed away, but your bitch of a mother wouldn't allow it. You suffered. I get it. But, that is not excuse for the decisions that you have made, and the lies you have told  yourself.

There is a better life outside of your head. You are not the imaginary friends you have made to cope with reality. You will never be as smart as those you dream up. You are not a musician. You can't sing for shit, and you dance like a white girl. GET OUT OF YOUR HEAD AND GET OUT OF YOUR WAY!

You don't deserve to be happy, and you don't deserve compassion. The reasons are too many to list. You spent your entire 20's not getting your child back, but trying to find a man you could rope into being married to you. Your child suffered for this. He was with a drug addict, and you just bowed down. Pathetic. You thought by paying child support, and sending gifts, letters, and calling your son would matter. But, it didn't. You didn't fight for your child. You let your mother control every aspect of what you could do with your own baby boy. You are so weak. You were so weak. 

Happiness is not in your future. Nor is being in the life you have now. You think you are comfortable, but you are not. There a things that are in place that you can't stop. you have become a very angry woman, and there is nothing that can be done about that anger. All of the therapy in the world wouldn't, and couldn't change the reasons for your rage, and anger. No amount of pills will drown out the cries of your children, and the voices talking too you. You are a lost cause. A broken child. A worthless woman, who shouldn't even be called a woman. What are you going to do about changing? Live in your past, or live in your present? Burn your past, and super glue yourself back together. Stop being a loser. Stop being a push over, and go after what you want. Stop worrying about what others think, and stop worrying about a man who was never there for you. Time to wake up, and shut up.