A Sad Sweet Incident At Work Today 

 

At my factory, every day  group of handicapped men come in for 4 hours to do simple things such as cleaning and labeling product parts. One of them uses a wheel chair some of the time. Nice kid named, “Angel”. Hard worker.  When he was a kid he was in a school bus accident that threw him up into a tree impaling him on some branches. At times I can see the scars on his head. Angel’s mom had cancer. Little woman. I had watched how she had lost much weight shrinking into herself and then as the treatment worked, she grew again filling her tiny frame out. In the past few months the cancer has come back. She is hardly recognizable she has lost so much weight from the cancer and chemotherapy. Today it was announced that Angel and his mom are moving to New York to live with her sister. I felt a little sick hearing that. Others thought nothing of it. I KNOW this woman is now dying and what she is doing is making sure her little boy-man is taken care of. He has been a burden on her for a long time but also a loving burden. Angel has trouble talking but is good at making thumbs up and OK signs. We have had simple conversations and I am proud to say I have made him laugh a lot. It’s just one of those things in life HE has gone through so much pure hell as well as his mother. It has been difficult to look at her when she goes to the factory to drop-off Angel for his 4 hours of work then pick him up. She reminds me of my mom, how wasted she was from cancer but kept going and going and going. 

The sweet of all this is that the owner of the company gave Angel a specially made company T shirt. Most of the people in the company got together with Angel and posed for a group photo with him. I know he will cherish it. He felt he belonged and THAT was what the work is about, I feel: Helping the handicapped feel they have some meaning and belong. A purpose with work. Some of them appreciate it and look forward to it. Others I have seen treat it like day care for grown-ups. Angel liked working there. Having purpose and camaraderie. A feeling of being a part of something. Grinning as he worked. I hope his aunt is good to him and knowing his mother IS dying and doing a noble thing to make sure her baby is taken care of, I hope her ending is painless. Somehow. Having seen her waste away TWICE I hope that her suffering will mercifully end…. Or by some miracle of medicine she is healed.  

Music And I

Recently, a friend on Facebook was doing some challenge of what albums changed that person’s life. I could not do it because of my love of classical. There were no particular albums. However, there have been COMPOSERS that have. This is a response to that “challenge” thing my friend wanted me to address. I warn that any trying to read this may give-up due to how long and probably BORING it is. To any that may try to read this, YOU WERE WARNED! 😉

We start our lives being bathed in the sound of our parents taste in music or that of our environment and culture. For me, my father’s taste. Odd gutless sounding stuff to me (now). I felt embarrassed by it. Herb Alpert? While Rock was taking over the youth of the USA. THAT sort of stuff. Henry Mancini and other (to me now) odd sounding composers. Baja Marimba Band? Chet Atkins? I cringe remembering such. For a kid and then teen it was painful. The music of my father’s generation was the Big Band stuff but he never played that. It was puzzling to me then and now. Most of us carry the music of our prime in life around with us to remind us of our youth and energize us later in life. I wanted an identity of being able to tell the other kids I liked the rock bands of that time. I tried to find rock groups that were tame that I would not be yelled at for playing. I failed. I recall playing a song by a non hard rock band The Guess Who. My mother heard the singer singing, “Awful goddam glad”. 

My mother never seemed to have a musical identity. I think that subconsciously from her, I grew a love of classical music later in life. My dad got her an old beat-up piano he put in our basement. Mom would try to play it while she washed clothes. There were music books with some pieces by Chopin and Beethoven I recall. She wasn’t very good but she tried hard to play. The main song she seemed to sing playing that piano was, “dammit!”. “Dammit”! As she hit the wrong keys over and over. I love her more for it remembering her doing that. It was a song in itself. A song of perseverance. Determination. A beat-up old piano was not going to make her stop!

 I tried to be different by liking a band called, 3 Dog Night. It was just a weird different. They were not hard or edgy like other groups. They seemed “safe” but my dad still hated them. Hated them like other rock. Maybe he found rock threatening because he was a teacher at the local university. Sure he was exposed to the music of that time but rejected it as threatening to the world he lived in. 

My big rock influence was a kid across the street. A best friend that, I realized later only thought of me as his fucking dog that followed him around. Billy was my age. He was “COOL”. Long hair, boots, tight jeans and black T shirts. The COOL look of the time.  Taught himself to play guitar. Bought big amps and speakers and annoyed everyone with the loudness. Surrounded himself with a few rocker types. Looking back I see his parents indulged him by creating a padded room to blunt the noise. Rubber on the walls. He and his sister were allowed to like the trendy rock bands. Rolling Stones. The Who. The Beatles. Steppenwolf. I would go over and listen to them. Unlike my friend, I got heavy into drugs although I was never cool with the look of cool. I looked LOSER, I now think. A broken kid. Broken by anxiety and his dad often yelling at him. My hair could only be short. No boots no tight jeans no simple black shirts like Billy. Nope! I DID wear those horrible flared jeans that were the THING to wear back then. “Horrible” because bell bottoms and flared bottomed jeans were a bitch to walk and run in. The fabric chuff-chuffed as you walked or ran. Get a hall of kids walking in them and it got loud, looking back. A mass rubbing of jean fabric. 

My older brother Steve had an influence on me with his music. Steve was in the high school band and or orchestra playing trumpet. HE WAS COOL. He knew the COOL guys. Athletes, scholars and musicians. I had tried to play the clarinet in school but was an utter horrible failure. My dad had bought a used damaged clarinet for me that was constantly out of tune due to warping of the plastic (learned many years later!). It seemed everyone thought it was me. It is funny and confusing to me now that I was in some school bands and music classes but NOW I have 0 knowledge of how to read and play music. It is something that I know I KNEW at one time but seems to have been shamefully thrown out with the mental ignominious garbage of my school years. Brother Steve could play music. I envied him. He was good. He bought and brought home borrowed record albums of classical. I have a vague memory of hearing Beethoven symphonies being played and being transfixed! INCREDIBLE! All those musicians playing together for one massive piece of BEAUTY! I have more vague memories of him playing a composer named, Gustav Mahler. HE was a life changer! Such genius! So much complexity and depth. Passion! It was as-if god was a composer of music to me. 

I went through my own Wilderness of life for a long time. Barely graduated high school. Worked various jobs then my father helped me get a factory job. After a year there my sister helped me get out of my father’s house where she joked once, she feared my dad and I would kill each other 😉 My musical taste was the rock of my youth and of THAT time. It is often embarrassing to note what groups I liked. I DID indulge my curiosity about classical music starting with the basic GODS of classical: Beethoven, Mozart,Bach and Haydn. I Bought boxed sets of their music. I learned of others. Mahler of course. Brahms. Tchaikovsky. Bruckner. I learned about the composers by reading blurbs about them here and there. Learn of a big name composer, buy his works and then read the record jacket about him. “Him” because there were very few female classical composers. 

Regretfully, I introduced a coworker to classical music and he embraced it in a SICK way: He found one radio station that played it and HE PLAYED THAT INSANELY LOUD AT WORK! Radio classical music plays in a predictable limited loop. Or so it did back in the 1980’s. I CRINGED hearing it! I hated it the same thing over and over. I put away MY OWN classical music collection and tried to shut-out the baroque-heavy radio station that my coworker played. Things changed for me when he got fired. It was a huge relief to me. After a few weeks I could listen to classical music again. Things had changed technologically: Albums had faded out and CD’s replaced them. Computers, too. The internet. I started collecting CD’s of classical. It was a journey of discovery. Discovery of GENIUSES. Self-education. Learning what kinds of classical I liked. At that time in the 1990’s and early 2000, I had started with the biggest well known names in classical and then reached out to find others, lesser known. I felt contempt for opera because it was all screaming and yelling to me. That cliché of a fat woman screaming. I tried to like and quartets and quintets. Nope! Did not work for me. Even though many find classical music generally boring and dreary, that is how I found the small groups of musicians gathered playing a piece. I discovered WHAT instruments I liked most as solo works: Woodwinds yes. Brass, no. Piano, yes. At first I disliked solo violin then grew to love it. Cello? AWESOME! What made me fall in love with the power of strings was the Adagietto from Mahler’s 5th. It embodies so much emotion. It can make you cry and be so damned glad you are alive just to hear it! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Les39aIKbzE ). 

I must add here a reminder that I never finished college. I took a few courses then dropped-out due to panic attacks. I am not some high educated elitist geek. Over the years I found a music I liked then loved. I am blue collar but SELF-educated. I laugh about how some people are arrogant about classical music! I believe that for classical to survive as a musical form it needs to be de-arroganted. De-Elite. It is brilliant intricate  often deep music but any person can embrace it because at it’s heart it is just like any other music: IT IS SOUND. It is sound that can be written down to be played by people in notes and chords. You cannot do that with rap. You can with some other forms of music. Some rock can be written down. Folk too. I recall books of guitar chords of rock and folk music. I am hazy and ignorant about how it can be written down. I doubt if hard rock can be. So much of that is improvisation. Correct me please for my own knowledge. 

For me, classical music is an epic life journey of sound and feeling. DISCOVERY! I have literally CENTURIES of it to explore. As I sit here, I listen to Haydn’s Violin Concerto in C. Another exploration of sound. 

I have found a fascination with the LIVES of the hundreds if not thousands of composers of classical. Such rich often tragic lives. Take for example that of so many geniuses cut-off in their prime by disease or tragedy. Recent example is that of Marcel Tyberg (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcel_Tyberg) He could have been a giant in the music world but was burned in the ovens of Auschwitz instead! He wrote 3 symphonies, 2 of which were saved and recorded in the past few years (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WRcq_m8gyug). There have been few women classical composers but my favorite is a French composer named, Louise Farrenc. I fell in love with her 😉 (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louise_Farrenc). She wrote 3 symphonies and at that time of her life in the mid 1800’s it was quite a feat! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZeYHeXnNdo)

Europe was filled with Nationalist flavors of music. Case in point to me is that of  Czech composer Antonin Dvorak who imbued much of his music with tunes I understand he absorbed from the peasant folk. I believe he is mostly known for his 9th or “New World” symphony. 

Classical is flavored with WHERE the composers lived and created. Dvorak in middle Europe and then there was the great Finnish composer, Jean Sibelius (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean_Sibelius). He wrote 7 symphonies. All in stark contrast to Gustav Mahler’s .  Sibelius Violin Concerto is an incredibly beautiful piece to me (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITTbY1n3Iz8) You don’t have to be some fancy dressed elitist coughing in an audience to enjoy it 😉

One of my favorite Cello concertos is by Nikolai Myaskovsky. The first movement of his Cello Concerto in C seems full of pain and tragedy, depression and so much … LIFE! It is in it’s own way beauty incarnate (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqNWSM7fcCE) It is a piece that when I hear it, I have to listen to that first movement again. 

For me, there is so MUCH to discover in classical music. There are nationalistic styles to like or dislike. There is very little AMERICAN I like but do like some (Copland for one and another rather odd choice is Louis Gottschalk!). You can dive in to Russia for some wonderful what I think of as “flavors”. Shostakovich! 

There are so many names I could drop but have not. It gets to be a bit pretentious. The many names are what make classical so fascinating and fun for me to explore. A richness a wealth!

Part of that discovery, that journey that wealth (and poverty I have incurred collecting it) has been that of a recent (past few years) discovery that I actually LIKE OPERA! Like all “Classical” there are composers and compositions, styles we like and dislike. I forced myself to listen to Mozart’s operas as an introduction to opera and found I liked it. Since I had a collection of Haydn’s work I tried and liked HIS operas. I was late to trying and like Wagner’s operas fearing it would be too heavy for me. Hmmm yes and no. I still like it but it IS heavy stuff. My favorite operas are those created by Italians. Rossini, Donizetti, Verdi and Puccini. I don’t think I know a single word of any other language but I love the SOUND OF MANY OPERAS! I tried to like Strausses operas but that “fat lady screaming” was so much in his works. It is again, what you LIKE or do not like to hear. I am not one to say who was better or greater. The thing people miss about classical is that it IS ABOUT WHAT YOU LIKE… and to me? Damn the critics! Here is the one symphony by a little known Finnish composer that died age 22 of tuberculosis. One can wonder (as I have) if his first and only symphony was so good, what could he have accomplished had he lived longer?(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernst_Mielck) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDf6HVO0Owk) He was only 22 and in the span of 4 years he created such beauty. 

To me, classical music is about pleasurable sound. It can be moody and low and it can be dissonant. So much modern classical is jarring and unpleasant to me. A modern film score writer (I do not remember his name now) said that film score music is modern classical. I have to sadly agree with him. Composers write music that fits and elevates the film. A symphony will often be in parts and often like or telling a story. A film score follows and enhances a story. 

I used-to be and probably still am an alcoholic. I gave it up. In my youth I loved drugs. I have come to realize that have an addictive personality that I fight. These days I seek a positive addiction and find that in classical styled music. My own liking of some of it. Not all. That is like all music. We like some we dislike others. I dislike most other forms of music. Rap is not a musical form to me. It may be an art form but it is not music. Some dislike or hate classical. I read that some shop keepers in some cities play classical music to make pan handlers and homeless go away. I would probably stay and linger for a while. Until some baroque crap was played 😉 See? I have a general liking of classical but do not like it all. You can like Country or Techno but you do not like it all. 

I feel that classical (or what I listen to) is good for my mind. The complexity of it. I will listen to rock at work to block out the noise of other  people’s radios or playlists played LOUD! (Always). 

When I see a kid walking home from school with what looks like an instrument case, I smile inside. I would love to tell the kids that what they are going through is great. There is greatness in the bow of a violin; the mouthpiece of an oboe. There is genius in the start of learning REAL music. I wish I had learned and REMEMBERED music – how to read it and play it. For now, I will relish what time I have left by enjoying what others do and have done. 

I have never had a “bucket list” and always wondered about such. Writing this I know what it is: To get out of debt some day AND to listen to and experience as much classical music as I can in the time left for me in life. 

(Please note that all written here about music are simply my OPINIONS AND VIEWS. )

Why Not A Peace Parade, Too?

On Veterans Day,  trump will have a military parade. It is my belief that the best way to counter  a military parade that would seem to celebrate death and destruction and NOT honoring Veterans, is to have a counter parade: A PEACE PARADE. My generation that now ruins the USA had (ironically) PEACE MARCHES to protest the Vietnam war. A war trump and others in his administration were able to get out of serving in. Bolton, a war monger is one of them. Since trump loves to play the entertainer like some ancient Roman emperor throwing games for the people, the People could out-do him with a more ENTERTAINING event than a military parade. Something joyful, that at the same time honors veterans and embraces them, welcoming them HOME as so many did… welcoming them home with peace, compassion, empathy and healing. A Peace parade to try to avoid any more of their comrades, sons and daughters dying in another futile stupid war as we keep on having… as we had with Vietnam.  Trump and his regime would love to send more Americans off to another war (it would seem to me). Perhaps with a Peace parade, we can in some small measure forestall that and have a world with fewer Veterans. Fewer widows, orphans and people ruined by the effects of war in body and mind. What epic schadenfreude to ruin trumps authoritarian chest thumping with an alternate parade celebrating all that is good, calling for and encouraging a peaceful USA and world.

Reformed Alcoholic Watching A Movie

 

Tonight I watched a detective movie. Part of the plot is a cop gets kicked off the force for being a drunk. Ex cop seen drinking. CONSTANTLY. The beer labels are fictional but I know the cop is drinking beer. Yeah, it’s all fiction.

 A movie. 

Problem is, 

In the background of my mind, 

I observed myself salivating. 

Wanting a beer.

 A boilermaker.

 A few shots of whiskey. 

Drink until stupid and puking then

Drink more

And more,

That feeling again. 

I wanted to be buzzing like that fictional ex cop in the movie.

I didn’t want to be at the wheel of a car driving drunk.

Sweating, watching it.

In the background of my mind,

Stomach churning remembering the drinking

How sick and shitty I felt

Inside

Wrapped around my mind and identity…

Snap out of it,

It’s only a damned movie

Bullshit,

It’s flashbacks

It’s a reminder to don’t go there again

Churning stomach

Sweating

Terrified of flashing lights but I have to get home hanging onto the damned wheel then

Wondering next day if I hit anyone

Anything ?

The me now wanted the cop to quit drinking

Begging that fictional character to go for food and water

Not booze and junk

Redemption oh writers of this film

Oh please redemption like my life

Trying…

Trying…

Part of the damnation is the flashbacks

Part of the salvation are all those sick feelings watching a movie…

Reminders

Reminders in a movie

No you don’t want to go back there again

(And you won’t)

Because like that fictional ex cop…

You get up in the morning and make the pancakes

Instead of reaching for the 3 day old pizza. 

Wings

At times my back hurts so bad I think it’s gonna cripple me

But recently,

Feeling that ripping in my back as I work

having felt it rip through me making me wonder if my back will explode

Explode in the pain of years…

I realize that the back pain isn’t from working so hard

It’s the pain of 

Wings

The growing pain of wings

Wings trying to grow through my back

Explode through the flesh and skin

Wings that want to fly me away…

Away from the pain of this working man’s life. 

 

 

 

(Self Expression)

Mothers Day

Mother’s Day has little meaning to me now. Since she died I think of mom probably every day. I think of her with love, admiration, respect and yes even humor. I can think of a lot of bad shit dad did and said to me. But Mom? Nah… Mom was super cool super sweet even when when wanted to beat the shit out of me. If she had I still would have loved her. The greatest punishment was when I did stupid painful things and saw how my actions and or words hurt mom. THAT HURT more than any slaps or beatings. As for Dad… I think of him with more love now than when he was alive. It’s a choice. Yes love is often a choice. Choosing to love someone and remember their good and damn the bad and painful. Forgiving. Empathizing. Learning to be a better person through all that. Mother’s Day. Father’s Day. Should be celebrated every day, inside us. In that place beyond our physical heart we have no better label for than… “heart”.

The Artist Of Self

The invisible artist steps back

Looking at 

Feeling the work in progress before them,

(an immersive experience)

A painting

A sculpture

A poem

A Piece of Music

All in one work of art before them

Entering it

Working on IT. 

The invisible artist steps back

Setting the the work aside

Steps inside the art work

The Artist is the Art

Growing 

Evolving

Changing

With each stroke of Their invisible touch. 

Second 24 Hour Fast

 

As I write this, I am in the first 12 hours of my second 24 hour fast. I had a good breakfast then did not eat for 24 or more hours. The first fast was 26. I drink plenty of water. It is not a big thing unless you make it so. 

I am making it a big thing by writing about it. 😉

I find that a good way to fast is to start it on a Friday morning and end it the same time or later the next day. Work a day then rest and sleep. Drink plenty of water. Half cups every half hour or so. I was doubtful about any positive effects from the fasting thing the first time I did it. I had read about how GOOD it is for a person. There were warnings in research about hunger pangs and temptations to eat. How to deal with it. I find it is a very energizing thing to do. 

A comforting simple thing is to not think it IS a big thing to go around 24 hours without eating. It is interesting to observe the desires and thoughts that rise up about food. For lunch I took a chair nap. BEFORE lunch I saw the habitual thought of, “ah lunch soon! Get to eat and oh wait I don’t”. That anticipation of filling myself. Tasting food. Just that ANTICIPATION that came and went was interesting. Challenging. Replace the food with a nap. Break a habit for a day. I got home from work feeling energetic after working in a clear minded energetic way. NOT eating does that to me. I OBSERVED my mind. Was I making errors at work? Feeling run-down and tired from lack of food?

No. 

I put food out of my mind. When I get home from work my past habit would be to eat a little snack. Have been cutting that back to a piece of fruit so that today I got home from work and salivated over a banana – and laughed at myself. THAT is a trick to do: Put all food out of sight until you are ready to eat. I erred with leaving the nice ripe delicious looking bananas out (STOP THINKING AND WRITING ABOUT IT!) Out of sight out of mind. 

Except for not eating, life is a normal Friday night for me: Clean my clothes, do some house cleaning. Rest. Watch a movie. Look at how I feel by breaking that scheduled food habit.

Tomorrow after I get up, eat a LITTLE AT A TIME. I plan on yogurt and a banana. Little bit of brown rice. LOW GLYCEMIC. Coffee to avoid that killer headache from withdrawal caffeine withdrawal. Fruit an hour or 2 later. Lunch, whatever my normal is. 

The fast is a gift to my digestion. Hey you have been working hard! Takes some time off, digestion! Relax and do not work so hard for a few hours. As I understand it, the liver dips into the fat stores of my body and uses some of that. Not an extreme thing but a little for weight loss. It seems good for the mind as I have read. Good for the brain. After last weeks first fast, I felt more energetic, healthy and alert all week. Need to be sure to get enough sleep. I think I saved a couple dollars on food too 😉

I have seen no negative effects while or from fasting. It’s all good – literally. Some people can have too high of expectations, I think. Maybe I did at first. Small weight loss but I HAVE kept it off. The mental challenge is enjoyable. That feeling of, yeah I did that. I CAN go without. It gives me a greater appreciation for food. I do not do any cleansing. The liver does that naturally. 

One great lesson for me is thinking about food. How people obsess about it and yet we do not need as much as we think we often do. We do not need the stupid unhealthy but tastes good stuff. When fasting, I think about such simple foods that can keep me ALIVE and I appreciate them more. That and just having enough food TO eat when so many are not fasting but STARVING!

SHORT Encounter With a Bigot Today

 

At work today I started a conversation with a customer buying several items. I told him about some of our product and that I had done all the inspection on one product line. I mentioned that SOME of our product is parts made in China and assembled in our factory. This man scowled and said “I hate Chinese!” I gave a weird WTF smile and asked why. He said that A CHINESE MAN had once called him a “honky”. I had to laugh and asked incredulously, “A CHINESE CALLED YOU THAT?” He nodded, about to dig in. I turned to humor and said that I have always thought the word, “honky” was kind of funny. I also refer to myself as a “cracker” or because I am an OLD white person, a “STALE cracker!” He laughed at that and left. 

The encounter made me think: This man got called a “honky” by 1 “chinese” person that was probably not even “Chinese”. Probably an “Asian” because it is very difficult to look at ANY person and figure out WHERE they came from. Hey, my white ass could have been born in Botswana! Who knows? To meet just ONE PERSON of a race or group and hate ALL OF THEM because of what ONE said is insane to me. 

I believe that if I told a Chinese friend about the incident, THAT person would refer to the honky labeler and the honky ER! I mean sort of Beige American man as being IGNORANT AND STUPID. I would agree. 

I have people next door to me that emigrated here from Mexico. They can be loud and obnoxious but for me to HATE ALL MEXICANS for their being that way would make me … an asshole 😉 Because I have had WORSE beige Americans  living next door on the other side a few years ago. So… should I hate BEIGE AMERICANS because 1 family of them were monstrously rude and noisy?

Nah!

I think instead of hating people for a race or where they come from I will just use an all encompassing label for them: “Assholes and Idiots”. 2 of my favorite labels. You find them everywhere and yeah I mean EVERYWHERE. 

I believe that in the past year since trump became president it’s much easier to openly call someone a …. “Chink”  because yeah ok they called you a, “Honky”. 

And Now, I Want To Live

I don’t think many people post stuff on Facebook about their REAL self. They often hide by putting up a smoke screen of news articles, cartoons, stupid photos and movie trailers. Ummm Like I have recently done. 

It’s funny how at 62 soon 3, I have no retirement and recently realized I wasted much of my life believing I would not live long enough to have to need one. I had long expected to kill myself by now or long ago I had thought I would have been killed by my life style.

Here I am.

Paying as much as I can on my debt. I got it down now. My days of STUPID are over. Whittling at the stupid goes far now even to the point of trying to eliminate chocolate from my diet. Hey that $1.50 could be used on my debt! Oh and that big block of cheese is going to settle on your waist line! I am living the life of a very poor person but have a good wage at this time. I am doing it to try to pay for my sins of debt creation. I have this hellish habit of saying, “I SHOULDA!” To myself about a lot of things. I counter that with, “I KNOW DAMMIT I KNOW NOW!” Because I learned. A bit late in life but I learned.

I recently looked at the Facebook profile photos of 2 men I went to grade school with. I hate them now. It’s a sick thing I see in me. YEAH YOU SONSABITCHES ARE HAPPY IN LIFE! I know I “SHOULD” be saying, “oh I am happy for how good you did”. See? It’s not about them it’s a reminder to myself of, “YOU SHOULDA”. You should have been life affirmative instead of so negative all your life. You SHOULDA got over the panic attacks and lived a richer life. Instead you spent literally THOUSANDS of dollars to try to cure yourself of it.

I am still SCARED.

Scared of being stupid again. 

Of doing things that will hurt me and ruin me.

Like the drugs I quit.

Like the drinking I quit. 

Like the stupid relationships I quit.

Like the bad foods I quit eating.

See?

The positives of my life show in QUITTING. Omitting the stupid from life. My final quitting of stupid was wasteful spending. I am still working on that. Is a chunk of cheese or some chocolate stupid spending? Oh and some nice slices of meat from the deli? Trying to cut all THAT out now. Ok some cheese once in a while. 

I keep wanting to kick my ass for my past with “YOU SHOULDA!” But then I look with compassion on myself explaining to myself that, hey, I quit a lot. It took me a long time but I finally LEARNED. 

I MADE a rough road for myself because maybe I just wanted to kick my ass for years. I grew-up with a dad yelling at me often and I think that got imprinted on me as the right way of living. NOT by loving myself. Being materialistic and buying some toys and stuff was NOT being kind to myself I came to realize. It was a way of making my life worse in the future. Here, let’s hurt yourself LATER. It’s like eating sweets because it tastes so good then seeing and feeling the pound grow on later and finding that damn that hurts the body and mind. 

I think one bit of stupidity I need to quite is to quit kicking my own ass all the time. You are doing fine now. Living clean and wise. My new hobby is paying and paying and living frugal. It’s a penance of sorts. Debt is a prison of the mind where you kick your own ass as part of the punishment. 

If you have a conscience, you can create your own prison and hell inside for what you did to others and yourself. For me I never hurt others. I just hurt myself. Hey! Let’s go do something stupid! 

See?

Need to quit that stupid habit of beating myself 😉

Because finally, I am ok. I have a lot of debt but working on it. 

And unlike the past, suicide is not my fall-back option. Although it is a sick itch I sometimes feel like scratching. Don’t itch that! You may make it bleed!