The musings of a madman...

     Far too many people think respect is something to be traded, like a commodity in the market or some shit like that. The only thing you should be trading for respect is respectability.  What have you shown the world as your reason they should respect you?  What deplorable things have you NOT done?  What in your daily life would a reasonable person NOT feel less reasonable for respecting? Yes, I know that respectability – and/or a lack thereof – is no longer a deciding factor in whether or not one is allowed to be the one chosen to pretend to run the country.   No need to remind me. I don’t, will not, and can not believe in “you give respect to get respect.”  The reason is quite simple. I will offer a metaphor.  I come from humble beginnings, have made major mistakes and have gotten a grasp on all of my shit to keep together a decent life for my child and family.  Sometimes that is in spite of myself, but the worst of it has been placed behind me and my work involves lea

“A person who has only known the desert has no good reason to miss the trees” ~Me, just now      I say that to say that you never know what you DIDN’T have before until you actually have it. A recent VERY candid conversation with a tiny friend of mine under one of  her FB posts led to my discussion of how I handled the end of my last two prior relationships.  I don’t understand stress eating, except I do.  With me, I'd stress drink, and anyone who has been inebriated before understands “intoxicated bored eating.”  Throw in a bit of depression and work-related stress and you don’t leave the house except for work and supplies.  In my comment, I explained how I had gone down through this to the point where it caused me an illness that I have since shaken, and I have since lost all of the weight I gained to boot.  Lifestyle changes and such, I hope y'all are reading about some of it on Tuesdays. I credited my current lady with helping me back from it, and my tiny fri

…  but do NOT feed the monkeys!      We’re gonna talk about social media today… What if I told you that RIGHT now and just about every day, there is someone who peruses your FaceBook profile to see what you’re complaining about?  They’re looking to see what ill has befallen you over the course of your day.  They’re looking to see what bad luck has come your direction. They FEED off of it, they need it because it is easier to feast on the ills in other people’s lives than to do something about those in their own.  Depending on the level of petty or deep-seeded hatred this person may have for you, they are also quite pleased that it is specifically you having this particular conundrum.      So don’t give it to them. Let them starve.  Misery loves company and will create it from whatever strings it can grasp to do so, even in places where it is only perceived and doesn’t actually really exist.  You know your issues, and more importantly you should know your circle.  You kno

     People judge you for the company you keep.  You may want to say “fine, let ‘em…  fuck them too!” but the fact of the matter is that they’re well within their rights to do so.  The best judge of character of an individual is to look at the company they freely keep.      That girl who is constantly in and out of relationships with some dude she met and first-nighted?  Runs in a CLIQUE of women who either do the same thing or are far too willing to cheer her on as she does.  All of them share the same conversation about how there are no good men left.      That dude who SEEKS that woman because he knows he can get at her gooey bits easily?  He is hedging his bets and has a group of homies who know the game just the same. Look, we’ve all been young and dumb.  There is nothing written anywhere that says we can’t grow and change.  There IS something that suggests that breaking cycles and letting go of ill associations is a necessary ends to that means. Also, we all kn

     No one ever taught me to pray. I know a whole life of hearing other people do it and it always felt so…  rehearsed.  The frustratingly long altar prayers in every Sunday service.  Grandma squeezing the color out of your hand for fidgeting during the altar call.  Standing by famished when that one uncle everyone only sees twice a year "performs" grace over Thanksgiving dinner.  "Lawd Jesus, take me with you!" at a funeral.  None of it felt quite standard. I know I was always told “come as you are,” and I totally took that to mean that God as I understood him would meet me where I could understand him.      So sure, we know The Lord’s Prayer, repeat mitzvahs, we know standard graces over meals and we’re advised to pray regularly, but my question has always been “how?” Get slapped enough for unintended-but-perceived disrespect just for asking that question as a child and the adult in you just doesn’t ask anymore even if the question never goes away.

     I apologize… I apologize to me.  I apologize for thinking that a lack of attention equated to a dearth of people who cared.  I apologize for going dark instead of continuing to chase a dream. I apologize for letting my output suffer while I felt like shit. I apologize to my work for neglecting it because I felt like shit. I apologize to my keyboard for apparently forgetting that she was apparently the only one that I could tell anything and everything. [ Phlip note : yes, my keyboards are all women] I apologize to both of my readers for--…  No wait, I thank you both for sticking with me despite a complete lack of explanation. I apologize to myself for denying myself the practice necessary to get and be better at the one thing I have always wanted to do.      Most importantly… I apologize for entertaining the suggestion that what I wanted to do was “stupid” (her words, not mine) and subsequently second-guessing myself to the point o

     I imagine this is a common assessment for every person of themselves, but I am my own worst enemy sometimes.  My short term memory leaves much to be desired, but my eye and ear for details of mundane shit that happened a long time ago are A-1.  That often leaves me a prisoner to my own mind, to my habits – past and present at that.      I also have a hard time forgiving myself for shit that I have done or have been blamed for, or at worst have been allowed to believe took place on my watch. Ever laid awake and listen to your brain quoting shit you should have done differently and then chide you for not doing it differently?  I call those Tuesdays. … and Wednesdays. …  or, fuck, any day that ends in Y.      It may seem that I spend a lot of time on what I’ve done wrong and God knows I do as well as I do that this is true.  I surely don’t want to, but it just is.  I don’t take compliments well because I am still so stuck on my opportunities for improvement. An