Friday, October 31, 2014
“Lend
before witnesses,
but
give without them.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Prosecute
(to pursue in accordance with the law, to sue)
He threatened to prosecute if anyone hunts on his
property.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 27-28
The wisdom of the social law, as it really
is, seems open to question. Yet it is wise and right, nevertheless. Taking men
as a whole, they are better able to endure the fatigue of standing than women.
Women as the mothers of the race, the bearers and nurses of children, are
entitled to special consideration and care on account of the physical disabilities
which these duties entail; and even if in their ordinary health they are
capable of enduring fatigue, still there are times when to compel them to this
endurance is cruel and unjust. Since women prefer, as a rule, to conceal their
womanly weaknesses and disabilities as far as practicable, it is impossible for
individual men to judge of the strength or weakness of individual women. Thus,
when a man rises from his seat to give it to a woman, he silently says, in the
spirit of true and noble manliness, “I offer you this, madam, in memory of my
mother, who suffered that I might live, and of my present or future wife, who
is, or is to be, the mother of my children.” Such devotion of the stronger sex
to the weaker is beautiful and just; and this chivalrous spirit, carried
through all the requirements of politeness, has a significance which should
neither be overlooked nor undervalued. It is the very poetry of life, and tends
towards that further development of civilization when all traces of woman’s original
degradation shall be lost.
--- --- ---
Hello.
Happy Halloween!
Hong Kong, Americans Love You.
Freedom of Information Act.
Guns
There’re
many different types of problems in America and guns happen to be one of many
major problems.
No, I
don’t carry any firearms strapped to my body.
“If you
decide to get a permit to ‘carry and conceal’ a firearm then be very well
prepared to die by your own gun,” Said my Father to me at the age of fourteen
(14) in 1991. (Okay.)
Implemented
as of November 1, 2014; as a mature and independently thinking adult American,
I’ve made the decision and arrived at the conclusion that I shan’t, not, for as long as I live, carry a firearm strapped to
my body or on my person. I’ll take my chances in any other form of death other
than possibly death due to a bullet hole into my body from my own firearm. (No,
thank you.)
(However, that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t fight to the
‘dueling death’ for my life if such a challenge were ever to present itself,
pray that it doesn’t ever again because that was stressful enough. (Thank you.)
*****
It isn’t
until one’s staring at another person (a stranger, really,) while they point a
barrel of a gun at one’s head, that one freezes inside themselves, and everything
goes slow motion inside of one’s mind, like, holding one’s breath for a long
time while underwater. (That translated.)
In those sparingly violent moments between more breath or
death one thinks about some of the most insignificant thoughts like ‘his’
shorts don’t match ‘his’ t-shirt while
‘he’ points a gun to the left hand side of one’s head no matter how briefly ‘the damage’s already done’ and the
demoralization process got underway in silent motion significance between
powerful and powerless.
‘He’ stole my breath away that day as I made my daily evening walk from Uptown to
Downtown, Minneapolis.
Silently,
without a word: A ‘Native American’
brother showed me ‘his’ gun (literal firearm piece) as I was just about to walk right in front of ‘him’; ‘He’ then
raised his arms and pointed ‘his’ actual ‘piece’ to the left hand side of my
head. I held my breath with each step I took as I continued to directly walk
the same path as I did every single day for about six straight years without
many problems; I continued to walk because I went paralyzed with terror, and
didn’t think to do anything differently other than to continue the same daily
routine to walk the same route of muscle memory as fear climbed deeply into my
bones, and something innately stubborn didn’t detour my legs away from my
route, and I walked right in front of the barrel of a gun because I got stuck
frozen to the pounding rhythm of my feet against the pavement, also I ‘envisioned’ (had an Indigenous
“vision”) I could ‘see’ his Ancestors hovering over ‘his’ head saying something like, “‘If you shoot
and kill her then she’ll come back and kill our entire tribe.’” As I walked
right in front of ‘his’ gun, ‘he’ understood ‘he’ played with fire that fine
August evening. If ‘he’ would’ve killed me in that moment then I would’ve
turned Hindu and Buddhist as my last breath escaped my body and prayed to any
Gods to ensure my human “reincarnation” (which, by Mayan Theological Ancient /
and / modern standards, we don’t believe in “reincarnation,” as a reality, per
se, only as a philosophical means to learn ethics and morality like any other
fear provoking theology ever is meant to relay messages and lessons about life
and death and humanistic approach to problem solving solutions; (science and
mathematics and logical writing trumps all other cards.)
Why is writing considered science and
mathematics, as well as, an Art?
Writing is considered science and mathematics
as well as an Art because writing’s math and must make sense, like, with using
any other “symbol” or “code” to decipher any type of complex linguistics to
convey any message such as one that describes the literary and literal sight of
vision filled with ballerinas in mid flight across any stage with hot lights
glowing down upon the dancers and sensual motion in storytelling form unfolds
the mysteries of science, evidence and fact and sense enough to know what makes
sense when one reads anything such as the above sentence, no matter how
awkwardly written this sentence might’ve been to write.
Scribes write to convey something meaningful
and logical (outside of their minds) to others who don’t have a clue as to what
anybody else might be thinking and writers must spell ‘everything’ out that
which writers precisely mean to convey without any excuse.
Either writing makes sense or it doesn’t like
with mathematics and science. (Thank goodness for that.)
With “interpretive dance” or “visual arts”
one may do a “representation” from their imagination and writers do as well,
however and nevertheless, with writing one must make sense with letter symbols
instead of numbers which could also represent X,Y and Z while other art forms
which might leave “anything” up to an artist’s “interpretation” then is left up
to an artist to decipher anything for themselves such as (for example) to draw
a ‘purple blob’ and title it “Royalty” and ‘sell it for a pop’ only to have an
individual “hang” a ‘purple blob’ somewhere on a wall, however.
No one’s ever going to “complain” (per se)
about the ‘purple blob’ painting or say that
that piece of art ‘doesn’t make any sense,’ however.
If writers didn’t make sense across the page
then everybody would want their money back. Got it? Yep.
(That’s it. Dumb human animals with guns.)
*****
What
about guns?
What about
them?
Really.
What
about our Second Amendment?
What
about it?
Really.
It’s not
so much that guns are bad, per se, because I like to watch grouse and wild
turkey and possibly pheasant hunting in South Dakota.
Just
because I shan’t ever carry a firearm near or on my person it doesn’t means
that I haven’t been taught how to shoot a shotgun or any other firearm for that
matter because no matter how good of a marksmen I might be, I also know the
deadly endangerment that comes with firearms.
It’s not
so much that guns are bad, per se; it’s that people misuse their power in the
handling of firearms.
It’s not
so much that guns are bad, per se, it’s that American legislation is run by the
“National Rifle Association” that has no power to set any governmental agenda
or any type of congressional policy because the NRA’s simply and only an association like any other association
in which members pay their dues and that’s
that.
It’s not
so much that guns are bad, per se; it’s simply and only that either American
police take advantage of their power and decide to gun down American citizens
and civilians in our streets falsely thinking that there’s not repercussion to
their actions.
It’s not
so much that guns are bad, per se; it’s that Americans seem not to want to mature and become
responsible and participatory adults in the idealism that guns kill.
It’s not
so much that guns are bad, per se; it’s the abundance of illegal firearms
that’s astonishing.
It’s not
so much that guns are bad, per se; it’s that America’s lobbyist and special
corporate interest groups refuse to implement an American legal policy in which all across America universal
background gun checks are mandated to all
in the land.
It’s not
so much that guns are bad, per se; it’s that guns are now used to resolve
conflict in American schools and the work place when disgruntled workers or
students or possibly the “mentally ill” ‘saunter off’ to kill their peers.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 3,000
Word Count: 3,729
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 11,002
One Year Health Goal for each of the
following Items:
*) Day #251
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #3
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #1
without stress: I love it.
*) Week #1
work on 298 cholesterol. I love vegan food.
) Month #2
BMI is “overweight”. I love a twenty four and a half (24.5”) inch waist.
(Professional ballerinas tell me that they have twenty
seven and a half (27.5”) inch waists, August 2014. Wow.)
Personal Notes:
Okay.
America,
let’s talk weight.
Americans
are “obese.” (Period.)
Americans
must lose weight in the year 2015-2016.
*****
When I
turned alma mater, I was told not to ever gain anymore than twenty (20) pounds
from the day of our eighteenth (18) birthday. (Okay.)
On my eighteenth (18) birthday I was one hundred and
forty (140) pounds.
The most weight that I might possibly ever gain throughout my
entire adult life is no more than up
to one hundred and sixty (160) pounds otherwise any more weight gain other than that and my body begins to
take a distorted form, shape and look and my body becomes unhealthy with
illnesses that invade and attack such as mysterious lumps or benign tumors or
swollen glands or nodules or cysts.
(Plus, my joints begin to hurt and my back ‘kills’.)
In my adult life, the heaviest I’ve ever been was one
hundred and eighty (180) pounds in the year 2006-2007 from severe ‘cortisol’
stress levels.
*****
Last
September 2013 when I went in for a laparoscopic uterine fibroid surgery I was
a whopping one hundred and sixty four (164) pounds.
Yes, I
began to take birth control on September 2013.
March
2014, five months after I began the birth control pill, I’ve lost sixteen (16)
pounds and haven’t gained the weight back (more or less).
*****
By the
end of October 2013, I weighed one hundred and sixty four (164 lbs) pounds
going into December 2013 to more or less
lose fifteen (15) pounds since March 2014 up to today’s weight.
If I
don’t take birth control then my uterine fibroids (benign tumors) return and I
might possibly gain excessive amounts of weight (twenty pounds or so) because
my body commands that I ‘pack on’ the pounds and prepare for ‘mock’ pregnancy
and the fat builds mainly around the belly area even if I were to walk four
miles per day and only eat as little or
as much as one thousand and two hundred (1,200) calories per daily nutritional
intake.
Somehow
when I’m not on the birth control pill then my metabolism doesn’t seem to
naturally regulate itself thus birth control is a gift, as for other women
while on birth control they tend to gain weight and face a great deal of
emotional upheaval while I’m calm for the
most part unless repetitiously provoked then I turn into ‘a hellion on
wheels.’
*****
September
2013-December 2013, I was surprised to hear my main medical practitioner call
me “obese” (yet once again) because my
BMI indicated that I was “obese” even though most people tell me that at one
hundred and sixty (160) pounds I looked more like one hundred and thirty pounds
(130) pounds because I carry an excessive amount of muscle and a little bit of
body fat on my stomach and breasts (which whatever).
In the
third week of February 2014, both Eric and I gave up table sugar as a general
rule.
*****
Two
weeks ago I was one hundred and forty nine (149) pounds at the
endocrinologist’s office.
As of this
morning I was one hundred and fifty-two (152) pounds at my main medical
practitioner’s office.
No, I
don’t own a scale.
Yes,
daily, I measure my waist.
Yes, I
measure my waist right after I get up and go to the bathroom and right before I
eat anything.
Yes, I’m
on my way back down to a twenty-four and a half (24”) inch waist after eighteen
(18) straight days of hemorrhaging from October 10, 2014 through October 28,
2014.
Even
though the scale read one hundred and fifty-two (152) pounds as of this
morning, I’m still back down to twenty-four and a half (24.5”) inches around my
waist.
No, I
don’t ever measure myself again until the very next morning because if I don’t need to deal with anymore
disappointment then I don’t.
Once a day measurement is more than enough to measure
myself with a tape measure.
The
average woman may fluctuate in daily weight by about ten pounds (10) give or take in any direction, up or
down on the scale, so breathe easy and don’t panic.
*****
Yes,
uterine fibroids (benign tumors) were a significant deterrent in weight loss
within the past decade and getting on the birth control pill in (October 2013)
did in fact help regulate my metabolism.
However,
ever since my second uterine fibroid surgery in September 2013, I lost fifteen
(15) pounds and it seems that I haven’t lost or gained any more weight since
August 2014 other than steadily fluctuate at my “average” of one hundred and
forty-nine (149) pounds and one hundred and fifty-two (152) pounds.
(Three pound difference is nothing.)
When one’s my petite build and holds my
physical muscular stature at one hundred and fifty (150, more or less as of
today) pounds then one’s (more or less) size eight (8) pant and their waist
measurement is exactly twenty-five inches (25”) around the waist with the
ability to comfortably bend over to each of either side while holding the tape
measure around one’s waist.
When one’s my petite build and holds my
physical muscular stature at one hundred and fifty (150, more or less) pounds
then one’s (more or less) a size “small” shirt or top unless one’s breasts are
on the larger side.
*****
Since I haven’t gained or lost
significant amount of weight other than the initial fifteen (15) pounds that I
lost since March 2014 then that indicates and makes me believe that the excess
weight or extra fifteen (15) pounds that I carried around was all lifestyle
weight and a slow metabolism. (Ouch!)
What a goofy life.
Now, by
March 2015, I’m to lose twelve (12) pounds and stay at that weight of one
hundred and thirty-seven pounds (137) for the rest of my life unless I become
pregnant within the next three years.
For some
reason I’m not able to get the scale to budge down towards one hundred and
forty five (145) pounds.
*****
Last
week, I discovered that one doesn’t cook their red meat over the slow cooker in
the Crockpot because that’s the same as saturated fried fat vegetables slow
cooked in hot animal fat oil. (Dah!)
Now that this new information came to light then I’ve recently
discovered that all of our Crockpot meals have been cooked in the same manner
as that of fried food, thus we haven’t put on anymore pounds, however, we
haven’t dropped further pounds either.
How frustrating to come to find out that we were doing
ourselves a culinary disservice out of ignorance by slow cooking our vegetables
in animal fat oil which was the same outcome as eating fried food. (In that
case I’d rather eat fast food hamburgers.)
What an ignorant disaster yet it was caught in time
before it did anymore damage to my already high cholesterol of 298 which must
be brought down to 200 by April 2015.
*****
As of
February 2014, we stopped eating two (2) cookies at breakfast and two (2)
cookies after dinner (400 daily total calories).
That nutritional change has made a difference.
We used to take in a whopping four hundred (400) calories
from four (4) daily cookies that we aimlessly and ignorantly consumed into our
bodies each and every single day for almost seven straight years.
No, even
though I haven’t lost any weight (not really) ever since February 2014, I do
feel much better than I did when we used to eat four hundred (400) calories of
pure sugar per daily consumption.
Yes, I
feel smarter and lighter now that we don’t eat sugar.
Furthermore,
I stopped feeling ever so “swollen”.
Literally, when we used to consume our daily amount of
sugar I used to feel ever so slightly swollen and sleepy and lethargic.
Now, I don’t feel as bad as I used to feel.
No, I
didn’t even know the difference between feeling bad and feeling good in my body
because one decade of uterine fibroids made me feel badly and tricked my body
into believing that it was pregnant for one straight decade. (Yikes. Breathe.
Whew.)
No, I’m
not “chemically imbalanced” other than I’ve got high cholesterol. All of my
body’s chemicals are balanced and have been for about twenty five (25) plus
some years.
No, I’m
not “mentally ill”.
Yes, I’m
“hormonal.”
Yes,
“hormonal” and “chemically imbalanced” are two separately different things.
Yes, I
just found out that my body ‘tricks’ itself into believing that it’s pregnant all of the time therefore all that I can
do is pray, conduct my daily breathing exercises, walk on a daily basis for thirty
minutes at least five times per week, drink four to six (4-6) glasses of water,
sleep seven hours per night, and consume no more than one thousand five hundred
(1,500) calories per daily nutritional consumption and keep all stress levels
down or keep stress completely out of my life.
*****
The last
twelve (12) pounds to lose seem to be the most difficult pounds to lose.
Yes, I
think that I’m truly needing to learn to cook more vegetarian and vegan dishes
and get this extra twelve (12) pounds off because I’m only twelve (12) pounds
away from one hundred and thirty seven (137) pounds which happens to be almost the exact same weight that I was at the
age of eighteen (18). (That’s pretty cool when one thinks about it.)
My goal
is to lose twelve (12) more pounds by the end of March 2015. I can do it. I
must start cutting out all Crock-Pot cooked red meats and eat more vegetables
and introduce healthier vegan options into my nutritional intake because it’ll
be worth it.
No, I
don’t want to be “fat” or “chunky” anymore.
My fat years are over unless I continue
to get re-occurring uterine fibroids and those benign tumors can put on the excess pounds as the
tumors change my body chemistry causing an ‘African’
bloated tummy look and swollen skin and fat-looking all at the same time.
It’s a complete nightmare to anyone going through uterine
fibroids plus the body tricks itself into thinking that it’s pregnant (all of
the time) when it’s being attacked by benign tumors of the uterus and at any
other times. (Ah.)
*****
Yes, I
can imagine myself at one hundred and thirty-seven (137) pounds of loveliness
by the end of March 2015 (five months away).
Yes, I
like feeling like a lightweight feather Champion because I can move easily in
my body.
Yes, I
like feeling sensually free in my body.
Yes, I
like being thin and magnificent.
*****
Yes, I’m
lucky that I didn’t get diabetes during all of my health trials and
tribulations of the recent past decade (2004-2014).
How does
one lose the last twelve (12) pounds?
With due
diligence.
No, I
don’t have any type of master plan to lose twelve (12) pounds.
Yes, I’m
a layman private citizen searching for excellence in healthcare and general
healthcare lifestyle.
Yes, I
want to believe that food is medicine which heals illnesses. Plant life is
significantly strong and potent and powerful in the thriving endeavor of all
humans.
Yes,
I’ve finally learned that I made a grave mistake and ought to have studied
botany and conducted a lifelong career centered around the study of scientific
plant life and filmed it.
(Oh, well. What a dream that ought to have (‘to’ve’) been.)
Yes, I ought to have become a botanist.
Most all
life ties in together, in one manner or another.
*****
The main
reason why Americans can’t afford to lose any more time with excess weight or
added pounds is because Americans’ health stands in the fine balance between
another breath or death.
The only
reason why I know that I’m “overweight” is because of this…
Even
though my BMI reads “overweight” (27) as of today; I have terrible posture and
I know it better than anybody else: A) I’m ‘top heavy’ (naturally larger
breasted) on a petite frame and rather on the lazier side about holding up my
upper body back because it’s a lot of work B) I don’t have strong stomach
muscles even though I’m strong C) No matter how much I might hold myself up to
a ‘perfect’ posture I’ve got a fat deposit right in the upper middle of my back
at the base of my neck and that fat deposit is as large as one of my hands thus
I know that I carry excess weight or added pounds because until I lose that fat
deposit then I run the high risk of pre-diabetes. (Oh, no.)
(That’s how smart I am about what I need to work on;
however, it’s taken me decades to catch up with medical terminology.)
No,
we’re not diabetic.
No,
we’re not pre-diabetic.
Yes,
Eric’s got hyper-tension.
Yes,
I’ve got high cholesterol.
Yes, I’d like to safely become a vegan for
life, however, I ate ‘vegetarian-only’ for one complete calendar year, and
I’d never been sicker with the common cold than I was in that year span of
time.
For one entire continuous calendar year, ‘my nose was as wet as a dog’s’ and my nose
constantly ran all the time even in summer. (Yuck.) (Too messy.)
Yes, I’d
like to aspire to veganism, however, I don’t want to be borderline physically
ill from the common cold almost every single day of the calendar year because
that’ll diminish my performance as a human leader.
Yes, I’d
like to get rid of that deposit of fat on my back so that I might have long
enduring days filled with excellent health and kind salutations.
What a
life.
No, I’m
not ‘angry’ that life is what it is.
No, I’m
not ‘angry’ to be alive.
No, I’m
not ‘angry’ about the misfortune of bad health.
No, I’m
not ‘angry’ about the cards we’re dealt.
No,
we’re not “wild cards”.
‘We’ll
play our hand’ to the best of our ability, the rest is about excellent health and
forethought because that’s how sophisticated we’re as human thinkers and doers
who thrive and live for Holiday and rest and relaxation together as a married
couple. How little time we have together when we think about it. Life.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
“He
who gives, lives;
he
who does not give, does not.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Berated
(scolded, rebuked)
The judge berated the criminal for his evil deeds.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 26-27
As an illusion of this, we cannot do better
than cite the requirements of good breeding in regard to women. It is
considered perfectly proper in the more barbarous forms of society to treat
women with all contumely. In polite society great deference is paid to her and
certain seemingly arbitrary requirements are made in her favor. Thus a
gentleman is always expected to vacate his seat in favor of a lady who is
unprovided with one. If it were possible to carry discrimination into this
matter of yielding up seats, and require that the young, healthful and strong
of either sex should stand that the old, weak and invalid of both sexes might
sit, there could be no possible doubt as to the propriety of the regulation.
--- --- ---
Hello.
The Presidency
Personally,
I shan’t speak for anyone else about what The American Presidency means to
Americans because we’re a proud animal when it comes to all matters patriotic.
With the
triumph of our first American black President I’m astounded at how rudely, some Americans, do speak about our President as though America’s
President were an object or some commodity or something to be used or handled
rather than interacted with as a human being.
It’s been surprising to say the least to see some of our
congress people act like complete children who refuse to work alongside our
current President.
Who on Earth refuses to work alongside the most powerful
individual on Earth? No one, unless…
The
Presidency is a symbol for ‘head of the table.’
The
Presidency means that as long as a President stands at the helm and navigates
as well as dictates their nation threw rough waters then our Republic is safe.
Day after day we can breathe easy and go about our
responsibilities with a strong ‘peace of mind’ because the President at the
White House is keeping things going while the rest of us fulfill
responsibilities and duties and destinies.
The
American Presidency means that an intellectual sits back and listens to their
team of experts and staff and regular individual smart folks in their fields of
study and expertise and the President makes the best decisions possible based
upon the data that these individuals provide our President.
Hopefully, our President is well informed and presented
with current data and information that isn’t too bias or misguided or prejudice
and always open to expanding intelligent points of view.
The
Presidency is important because it stands as a strong symbol of a free vote.
It’s
difficult to say as to why our recent administration is abused or misused ‘within the realm’ of their ‘obligatory power’ and
‘symbolism’. (Just because? I don’t think so.) (That translated.)
It’s difficult
to say as to why our Arizona’s congresswoman stuck her finger in the
President’s face. (How terribly embarrassing for her.)
It’s
difficult to say as to why our patriots cackle the President or the First Lady.
(How embarrassing for the cacklers.)
Is all
of this impolite misbehavior directed at the President and the First Lady only
to be perceived as strong signs of racism? Yes.
What’s
the point of overt racism? There isn’t one.
Why
would Americans go so far as to embarrass themselves in front of the world by
cackling our elected chosen officials to represent the highest office in the
land? (There isn’t a point in embarrassing oneself in front of the world.)
Nope. Nope.
Is
America really all that ignorant and Caucasian (‘only’) in so far as to implore that our nation’s representatives are to
afford the abuse and the degradation of one of the highest symbols of freedom
in our land? Nope.
*****
As
Americans one of the main reasons as to why we afford the respectability to honor
others’ vote or their elected chosen officials is so that when our party’s
officials are and do become elected into office then we, too, are allotted the
same type of respect as we would grant another American adult.
It’s all
about respect for each other.
As
Americans we consider leadership that
something that someone does ‘to stand above the crowd’ or something
extraordinary that only super heroes accomplish yet nothing could be further
away from the truth when it comes to leadership.
As Americans
we don’t really stop to consider how we self govern and what that means to us
as individuals and private citizens because we always think that ‘someone’
smarter or more educated or wiser than us will take to the pulpit and teach us
all that there’s to know about being smart or intelligent rather than
generating that type of energy and intelligence with our own free thinking
will.
No, I’m
not sure as to why, it’s become quite
difficult for Americans to ‘see eye-to-eye’ especially when they disagree about
political divides and political parties. (I thought we were the land of
political freedom.)
No, I’m
not sure when our citizenry became so stanch and rigid and closed minded about
breaking bread with others from opposing political viewpoints.
Nowadays
it seems ever so difficult to be able to hold a polite and respectful
discussion with anyone from an opposing political party or viewpoint. (When did
Americans become ever so driven by fear rather than enlightenment?)
Leadership
and self governing means that we as American individuals will do our very best
to keep an open mind and to grant others to speak their mind without the fear
of retribution or hardship simply because what others might believe might be
all too contrary from those of our belief system.
Every
American is born a natural leader, however.
When it
comes to self governing it seems as though Americans have lost the art of
polite discourse and the ability to listen to what anyone has to say no matter
how difficult it might be to listen to their bit of say.
Leadership
isn’t difficult to come by much less to enact leadership qualities into our
daily lives such as paying attention to our surroundings and minding our own
damn business and listening to our Elders and granting others the time to
disclose their grievances and to allow for positive change.
*****
What’s
the problem with a black Presidency? Nothing.
Are
Americans really all that truly archaic that we can’t seem to handle the triumphant
win of our first elected black man? Nope.
Americans
know quite well what’s at stake here.
Americans
realize the strength behind the symbolic significance to place a black family
in the White House.
As
Americans we couldn’t be prouder than we are now with our grass roots’ win and
activist effort to have elected a beautiful black family to one of the most
powerful of all the tables in the advanced and civilized modern world even
though America legs behind in modern infrastructure.
There’s no
point for Americans to be disrespectful to their country’s men much less to the
Leader of the Free World.
Yes, the
world’s always watching to see what America and Americans will choose to do
about anything at all because one intrinsic cultural aspect which determines us
as Americans is that we have a “we can do it” attitude as well as “don’t fuck
with us” and here’s a middle finger to go
with your fries if anyone so much as tells us that we can’t or won’t
accomplish something wise and intelligent and beautiful and robust for
ourselves as a whole sum together.
As
Americans we know that we’re annoying and that we’re disrespectful (if we can
get away with disrespect then we will because we don’t uphold to economic
social class standards much less politeness for the sake of it) especially when
the rest of the world lets us get away with our bullshit, however, it’s another
matter when Americans allow to be disrespected by their own breed. Yep.
In
America there’s a great divide between rural farming communities and inner
cities or urban sprawl areas for that matter.
It appears that cities are more advanced and
sophisticated in their way of thought and deed simply because more people live
amongst close quarters and must learn to get along while in the rural areas
people have the luxury of time and space and can keep to their slow pace and way of life, however.
Our American people must gap that divide and unite and
vote and make decisions for the vast goodness in the overall agenda of our
nation’s innovative advancement towards the future of technology and digital
massive online multimedia and factual information.
In other words:
America can’t afford to be divided and conquered.
America can’t afford the resonance of dissonance.
America can’t afford to get politically split up.
America can’t afford to disagree all of the time simply
because we refuse to change and to make room at the table for further
negotiations.
Personally,
I thought, that it would be a proud moment in history to have a descendant from slaves (correction)
become one of the most powerful men alive.
Personally,
when I stop to listen to the President speak about many topics (whether I agree
or not) it’s not only a proud moment to acknowledge as an American yet also a
moment of gratitude that we prevailed all of the political noise and lies and
created history with our own bare hands rather than deny the future its due and
proper place.
Imagine
what they’ll say about us in the future?
Those of
us who are alive; in these very moments to live through remarkable times of
change and hope and to witness a son from
slaves (correction) become one of the most honored men alive.
It’s a proud moment for me, indeed.
What a long way we’ve travelled together as untied and
independent ‘lone wolf’ Americans.
What a bunch of cool people we are to elect the son of a
slave.
Need I say more? Nope.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 3,000
Word Count: 3,183
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 7,273
One Year Health Goal for each of the
following Items:
*) Day #250
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #2
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #1 without
stress: I love it.
*) Week #1
work on 298 cholesterol. I love vegan food.
*) Month #2
BMI is “overweight”. I love a twenty-five inch waist.
(Professional ballerinas tell me that they have twenty
seven and a half (27.5”) inch waists, August 2014. Wow.)
Personal Literary Notes:
To write
a blog is to be ‘ball and chained’ to a desk.
Yes, I
know what it’s like to organize and structure one’s work and leisure time and
schedule.
Yes,
I’ve got more work then I know what to do with, and time is of the essence
because every day we run out of time to do that
one thing we really intent to do.
If one
doesn’t already know, then know this:
In no way am I a qualified or certified scientist.
No, I’m
not a scientist nor do I pretend to be one, however. I’m a thinker and thinkers
think so we invent and come up with new ideas at how to look at the world
towards the prospect of a better civilization.
*****
Yes, I
know that writing novels will be ten times easier than blogging ever is.
Yes, most
novels run the length of about three hundred (300) to six hundred (600) pages.
When one
blogs two thousand words (2,000) per day then one writes ten pages per day
which equals to around three hundred pages (300) per each (one) month which
significantly is enough time to write one complete novel per year. (Wonderful.)
Listen: I only have five years left of this blog project and as our time
dwindles down, no, I shan’t ‘run out of steam’ because there’s so much I mean
to write the reader before we part ways forever. I mean to share my heart with
the reader so that no stone is left unturned and make edits and corrections to
the best of my laymen private citizen’s ability so that one may know me as well
as one can here upon white pages of Nonfiction storytelling possibilities.
This
blog project isn’t a competition. No.
This blog project is a stepping stone so that I may
someday teach Ph.D. studies literary or cinema students all about…
This blog project is about Nonfiction storytelling and
some of the best there is in the world because it’s about one private citizen
taking the time to record their time and place in history and that’s a lot of
work.
We made it half way through this project and we’ll make
it to the end of ten years because there’s no point in stopping now that we
made it this far. Right? Right.
If I
happen to get several months behind on this project (which I’m already six
weeks behind this fall 2014) then we’ll make up the time at the end of the ten
complete years.
At that time this project will really and truly become
valuable since we’ll be winding down towards the end and to a complete stop so
that I will go on with my writing career and become a novelist and a poetess
before I die. (Thank you.)
Please,
savor our time together even if I have to take some days off for medical
purposes to go from doctor’s office visit to doctor’s office visit from one
blood test to another.
Finally,
this Tuesday, October 28, 2014, I stopped hemorrhaging after eighteen (18)
straight days of uncontrollable bleeding.
Life’s making it difficult for me to sit down and focus
and concentrate because when one has massive blood loss then everything gets
heavy and tiresome as if one were living underwater.
No, I shan’t
run out of steam because time is of the essence.
Yes,
I’ll retire from writing when I’m dead.
Yes,
even if I were to write novels and screenplays that went unpublished in my
lifetime, well, who cares? Really.
The entire point is to write and that’s just what I
intend to go on doing. This is my first love and a deep love of humanity.
--- --- ---
Personal Health Notes:
Truly, I
don’t know.
Has
anyone ever had massive blood loss for about eighteen (18) straight days? (Yep,
or months or whatever. Right. Right.)
(Yes, I’ll jump ‘online’ (internet) and ‘surf’ community
chats about hemorrhaging and read what others say about such an intimate health
subject.)
(Wow. Cyberspace’s so ‘cool.’)
Such a
demoralizing act (such as hemorrhaging that is) leaves one weak to the bone and
lightheaded much of the time without necessarily passing out, if ever for any possible reason does one
‘pass out’ (faint, blackout) because one doesn’t ever want to lose
‘consciousness’ or acquire ‘time lapse’ or ‘let go’ of one’s faculties. (Right.
Right.)
As an
adult woman I live to the best of my rational abilities and intelligence and
sanity and Costa Rican-Finn-Brit American 'crabby' disposition and curmudgeon
attitude about attitude.
(Yes, I hold an adult average I.Q., in other words,
“average” intelligence is fine, however to geniuses “average” is considered
‘dumb’.) Okay.
My Father taught me that while only at home one might
scream or yell or raise their voice all that they want for as loudly as their
heart’s content so long as all of the
doors and windows are tightly shut and a personal battle begins for the
position of domestic power. Okay.
(Mind one’s own business. One doesn’t ever truly know
what goes on between married couples until ‘the fat lady sings’.)
My personal attitude about life is more or less a modern
sailor’s attitude which means ‘live and let live’ because no one’s going to
feign ignorance when it comes to daily weather reports.
In other words: Ladies and Gentlemen
don’t judge anyone because “everybody” already knows that life’s filled with
suffering much of the time although
humans don’t tend to dwell on such dark things because we’re smart to move
forward hence change, and here we go; tackle against the wind and possibly end
up in Indonesia, (per se).
Every
word that I write ties in together because thoughts are filled with logic and
logistics and time and space and mathematics.
To write
about one’s personal health is possibly (in my bias opinion) one of the most
difficult topics there is to write about especially when by nature one’s quite a private person yet either ‘immature’ or
‘unrefined’ or ‘too wild’ to settle into a passive aggressive culture of hatred
or, too, much of a ‘wild spirit’ because we intellectually know better and must
act like leaders and not like five year old brats and that goes for all
American adults with love.
(Only private citizens can get away with criticizing
their government and era because it’s the taxes of citizens that make the rich
infinitely richer forevermore.)
*****
How does
one know when they’re beaten?
More
precisely and directly about anything at all such as their health or finances
or career or relationships or business agreements or, or, or…
How does
one know when they’re ‘licked’ and must concede and give in to another’s point
of view? (Respect? Logic? Timing? Luck? Intelligence? Kindness?)
In other words: When does one stop being
a stubborn donkey’s rear end?
Especially in relationships: What’s the determining
factor to ‘throw in the towel’ (quit) when both or all parties do their best to
get along yet don’t?
What’s
one to do when all parties involved don’t see ‘eye to eye’ and don’t ever agree on two variable consecutive points made?
A
relationship is no different than any physical illness in the sense that one
must take care of one’s illness with as much compassion and care and tenderness
and forgiveness as one would a beloved one except that humans can be
ungratefully stubborn about the stupidest things diminishing any great chance
for a high quality of life.
*****
Doctors
say that nothing’s wrong with me, per se, and I agree, however, I’ve
hemorrhaged, twice, per year (2014) for as little as eighteen (18) days or as
much as six weeks, (6,) straight both times.
The
cysts in my thyroid are too small to operate-on and well, that’s that. I live with intense sore throats and have for the past
fifteen years.
My
greatest stressor in life is that Eric and I fight about the same two stupid
things and fighting makes me ever so tired.
We’re both stubborn about cooking and how we want to
spend our vacation time.
We’ve wasted eight valuable years with high stress in our
relationship because Eric didn’t want to give up a little bit of his passive aggressive
domestic power for equality until just this weekend when he cooked all by
himself for the fourth time in eight years. (Eric’s lucky in life…)
No, I’m
not exhausted, per se.
Yes,
I’ve been tested for all types of thyroid conditions.
Nope, I
don’t have “hypothyroidism” or “hyperthyroidism” or “Hashimoto” or any other
autoimmune disease fighting its own immune system. Nope.
All of my thyroid hormone levels are balanced and have been
for more than twenty years as all of the blood work indicates.
Yes,
through ‘talk-therapy’ not only have I admitted that my health isn’t quite as I
expected by now and no, I’m neither clinically “depressed” nor “bi-polar”.
(Whew.)
Yes, I’m
a spoiled brat.
Yes, I
sleep seven hours per night.
Yes, I
now eat 1,500 calories per day instead of the 1,200.
Yes, we
drink water every single day (4-6 glasses).
Yes, we
exercise five days (5) per week unless we have extremely busy weeks with
doctor’s visits or such, however, we still make time to walk as much as we can.
Yes, I
used to have a personal trainer.
Yes, I
used to have a nutritionist.
Another
blog for another time.
Peace.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
“His
charity stops at his pocketbook.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Artifice
(skillful contriving, trick, craft)
They tried by every artifice to avoid work.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 26
Good manners were perhaps originally but an
expression of submission from the weaker to the stronger, and many traces of
their origin still remain; but a spirit of kindliness and unselfishness born of
a higher order of civilization permeates for the most part the code of
politeness.
--- --- ---
Hello.
Vote
2014
For most
Americans voting is an intimate freedom.
As Americans
we’d like to pride ourselves on our independence as well as our presence of
mind when it comes to making most important and vital decisions such as which
politician to put in office for the following term. (That translated.)
Yes, I
could get sappy when it comes to voting, however. I shan’t go all gooey on this
page.
Voting
is still very much an important American liberty and prospect and freedom and
independence because any form of a united voice is better than none.
Imagine
an American nation without the freedom to register to vote or cast a ballot. (I
can’t imagine it.)
Much of
the discussion that’s taken place over the course of the past twelve years has
been about the very fact that Florida’s presidential elections were stolen,
twice.
What’s a layman private citizen to think when their vote
seems obsolete or ‘stolen’?
Factually, since the entire state of Florida’s votes did
get stolen (in the past) by possible political campaign fraud or marginalized
votes then what exactly does that make the United States of America? A corrupt
system? Or Italy?
What’s a layman private citizen to do when their vote is
misplaced or erased or, or, or…
What’s the American vote really worth?
For
whatever reason, modern voting (2014) in America is a complete hassle in most
states, if not then, atrociously conducted by most modern standards.
Personally, I can only attribute this logistical voting
nightmare and ‘dysfunctional home and gardens’ to a lack of monetary funds or
precedence (importance).
The very fact that hundreds of thousands of Americans
must wait in line to vote as little or as much as eight straight hours on
voting day is not only ludicrous as well as disrespectful to a body of citizens
and civilians who take time away from their careers and jobs and work and
family to vote.
Every time that an American citizen or civilian forfeits
their paycheck for the sacrifice to vote, that’s saying a lot about the
American people contrary to popular belief that Americans are ‘lazy’ or
‘stupid’ or don’t vote.
The
problem with modern voting (2014) seems to be that a steadfast construct or
system isn’t being implemented for the encouragement or modernization of the
American vote.
What archaic system still holds us in place without the
freedom or ability to move forward in a twenty-first century fashion?
Aside
from the fact that individuals must still personally in-person show up to cast
a ballot, why then hasn’t our federal government instilled ATM like
touch-screen computer-machines mounted to buildings in which anyone may cast
their ballot two weeks prior to any American election?
Aside
from the fact that individuals must still personally in-person show up to cast
a ballot, what is it that keeps our federal government from implementing a
digital “voting system” in which any citizen may vote by touch-screen via
fingerprints as well as only one ballot may be casted per personal smart
digital device?
Obviously,
such voting digital modern practices haven’t been implemented because (as a
nation) we lack digital security systems as well as the digital hardware to
install hundreds of thousands of touch-screen voting digital computer polls
around our cities and states.
Personally,
I’m not sure that we so much as a nation lack the funds to implement such a
‘dream act,’ more so we lack the vision to do away with the inconvenience that
voting brings to our citizens when a broken down system itself isn’t only
archaic yet also falling apart and ripping at the seams.
How do I
personally know that America doesn’t lack the funds to support a new digital
voting endeavor? (Look around.)
Personally,
I know that America doesn’t lack the funds to support a new voting digital
system because the army’s doing everything in their power to give away surplus
tanks and weaponry to our police civilian forces. (Point made. Case closed.)
(The End.)
Instead
of making more tanks, couldn’t some of those industrial complex leftover funds
be redirected towards advancing the many problems Americans face with the slow
pace of on-the-day voter registration and casting of a ballot? Really.
If
digital voting isn’t the way of the future then must American voters settle for
the 1980’s?
Since,
physical voting polls exist then must Americans really and truly wait as little
or as much as eight straight hours to cast a ballot. Surely, not.
I mean,
that’s ‘extraordinary’ that in one of the supposedly
most advanced modern civilizations on Earth that as Americans we still have to
take (more or less) an entire day off from work to make sure that we get the
change and the time to cast our ballots and make our votes.
*****
Personally,
I want to believe that our vote matters, no matter how insignificant
constituents might seem to any politician who might want a leg up in the world.
Personally,
as a strong patriot, I want to believe that our vote matters, no matter what
the electorate college.
Personally,
I hold strong values about the freedom and liberty to vote without any
persuasion or intimidation or fraud or delay.
Yes, I
do think that modern voting in America is a big problem in that voting itself
takes a long time to do which such an archaic system persuade Americans to stay
away from the voting booth.
Yes,
modern voting in America is a big problem because as it stands right now such
limited voting practices infringe upon our very liberties and freedoms to
practice our right to vote rather than to disenfranchise American voters
because ‘of the color of their skin’ or their economic welfare or their
‘democratic’ idealisms and independent status against any right or left wing
conservative political figures seeking to stuff their pockets full of our cash.
No, I
really don’t have much more to say on this subject because the options I’d like
to discuss does involve the future as well as a future vision and that would mean that we’d have to
let go of our collective fears and idealisms about how we perceive the world to
be today in accordance to modern terms yet not represented.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000
Word Count: 2,057
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 4,090
One Year Health Goal for each of the
following Items:
*) Day #249
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #1 without
a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #1
without stress: I love it.
*) Week #1
work on 298 cholesterol. I love vegan food.
*) Month #2
BMI is “overweight”. I love a twenty-five inch waist.
(Yes,
today I’m one hundred and forty-nine pounds (149) and contemplating veganism.
My
medical practitioner’s goal is for me,
to slim down to one hundred and thirty-seven pounds (137) and not ever gain
another pound again unless indicated otherwise for health reasons; Otherwise,
I’ve yet to lose eleven (11) more pounds by March 2015.)
(Professional ballerinas tell me that they have twenty
seven and a half (27.5”) inch waists, August 2014. Wow.)
--- --- ---
Personal Literary Note:
Yes, I’m
having difficulty writing because this weather makes me feel sluggish and all I
want to do is climb into bed with a good novel and a cup of hot tea.
Tomorrow my friend and I get to play and hang out and
catch up. We planned to get together today, however. Responsibilities.
In many
ways, my head isn’t ‘in the game’ today yet here I am showing up for practice no matter what like a good little
athlete that I am.
The practice manual doesn’t say that I must be in tip-top
physical shape or form or condition each and every single day still yet ‘we aim
to please’ and I must do my very best thus here I am doing my best even though
a chill’s entered and sat inside my bones and I’ve fought a cough for six
straight weeks. (I see the doctor on Friday for another lecture on health.)
No, I
don’t want to run away from anything.
No,
there’s nothing for me to run away from.
Yes, my
permanent home is here in the Twin Cities.
Yes,
I’ve got a lot of work to get through, however. I find myself escaping and
thinking about home (Costa Rica).
It must be this weather that’s making me feel a little
nostalgic for home, especially at this time of year when the leaves are
pathetically lying on the ground screaming to get picked up and placed inside
brown paper bags for a collector to pick up.
When I
face difficulties in my writing then I dream of home. I dream of sitting under
the shade with my wet feet getting pounced on by sea salt waves and pounded by
twilight surf.
Especially right now when the sun’s about to go down I
can close my eyes and imagine the Pacific Ocean with all of my close friends
taking back a beer as they watched the sun go down (5:00 P.M.) and wait for
sheer pure darkness to overtake our village without electrical lights thus
everything goes pitch black.
No, I
don’t feel lost.
Yes, I
belong in the world.
Yes,
there’s no deeper longing than the one for home and my home happens to be Costa
Rica. The longing inside my chest is pure jaw breaker. I can taste the
sweetness of the heartbreak to want to be someplace right there and then,
however. My reality is here.
No, my
mind doesn’t normally wonder to other places.
Yes, I
like where I am just fine.
Yes,
there’s something about the ocean and its many complex smells that keeps
calling me back home. I’d give my writing hand to be teleported home right now
(Joke).
Yes, I
keep trying to write about topics that don’t interest me at this time such as
politics. I feel that I must write about politics because we’re only days away from
Midterm elections, however. My head’s back at home and nowhere else.
Yes,
it’s rare that I think of home. I rarely think about home because then I’d be
homesick all the time. Rarely, do I dare think about pineapples and fresh
bananas and papaya and such lovely things like surfing or close personal Costa
Rican friendships that I dearly miss.
Yes,
I’ve adapted to an American lifestyle, however. There’s something in my heart
that won’t let go of Costa Rica. Passionately, I miss Costa Rica like a distant
lover or a dead close and personal and dearest friends whose memories linger
all these years later, however, one mustn’t get stuck and only think of such
things because ‘time stands still for no man’.
No,
neither my Elders nor my dreams tell me to return to Costa Rica thus I don’t
because I married into a Minnesota lifestyle.
Yes, we
stay in Minnesota because this is where we made a life and this is where we
work and this is where our Minnesota Elders are (for now) while they face the
end of their lives at the age of eighty-eight and ninety-two and while many
other Elders have begun to retire within the recent past five years.
What a
magnetism a place holds for most people.
Yes, I
find that some little piece of me is always missing home and it just happens to
be Costa Rica. These emotions have grown stronger and louder over the past few
years.
No, I
don’t expect anyone to understand this dilemma in which I married a Minnesotan
yet much of the time my heart desires to be in Costa Rica.
Yes, ‘we
do the best that we can with what we’ve got’ and it’s plenty. We’re quite
blessed by global standards.
How, or does, anyone ever get over the
heartache of homesickness?
This
maddening darkness is descending over me and the day is done. How dark and cold
this northern tundra gets.
No, not
ever in my childhood mind did I ever imagine that I’d end up living in such a
cold climate that sits deep inside my bones and paralyzes me with cold frozen
memories of hot beaches and Ocean view sunsets and bonfires listening to
foreign tongues speak tales of the universes. Amen.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
“He
is a philanthropist---with other people’s money.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Mendicants
(beggars, those who seek alms)
The mendicants took their places along the line of
march.
(Yes, I file each vocabulary card correctly according to
date and sequence. Daily, I pick out one numerically marked vocabulary card
from the back of a neat and stocked pile that sits inside a long and slender box.
No, I’ve not a clue as to what the next day’s vocabulary word will be because I
don’t ever look.)
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 26
That all should seek to shape the way and
fashion of their lives in accordance with these models there can be no doubt. The best and surest course to pursue
for that end is to look for, and to imitate as far as possible, the
manifestations of the characteristics I have endeavored to describe.
And that which was at first mere imitation
may become at last a second nature.
(Literary Note:
When one sees ‘double spaces’ in copied text it’s only because I copy “exactly”
what I see from the published version, 1891. Yes. Correct.)
--- --- ---
Hello.
Gerrymandering
Source
from Wikipedia:
In
the process of setting electoral districts, gerrymandering is a practice that
attempts to establish a political advantage for a particular party or group by
manipulating district boundaries to create partisan advantaged districts. The
resulting district apportionment is known as a gerrymander (/ˈdʒɛriˌmændər/);
however, that word can also refer to the process. When used to allege that a
given party is gaining disproportionate power, the term gerrymandering has
negative connotations.
In
addition to its use achieving desired electoral results for a particular party,
gerrymandering may be used to help or hinder a particular demographic, such as
a political, ethnic, racial, linguistic, religious, or class group, such as in
U.S. federal voting district boundaries that produce a majority of constituents
representative of African-American or other racial minorities, known as
"majority-minority districts."
--- --- ---
Gerrymandering
is criminal for a direct anecdote.
No, I
don’t personally accept gerrymandering as any part of any fair democratic
system.
In other terms: gerrymandering is the
equivalent of “foul” play if a referee were to call any inappropriate action to
question.
As a
layman private citizen the most that anyone of us can do is check off our votes
and cast our ballots for whichever
candidate will do less harm by our
people without imposing anymore hardship than what the American people already
endured within the past decade of economic downturn and market re-regulation
(2014-2015).
Personally,
I think that it’s ‘sneaky’ to push back borders or boundaries on some made-up
political regional map and further marginalize any voters in certain regions
with certain united concerns about their communities, cities and state. (The
End.)
I rest my case.
(Seriously I’m done writing for today.)
What more is there to be said?
Nothing.
As a
layman private citizen, I don’t know why there aren’t stricter laws or
regulations in which and upon such gerrymandering laws would prohibit political
candidates from ‘stealing’ votes from opposite party candidates’ regions.
As a
layman private citizen, don’t regional communities get to vote on districts
such as county lines?
As a
layman private citizen, I thought that any political divide or electoral
regional districting was done so by constituents to enforce and reinforce their
regional status.
I mean, county lines aren’t going to change from year to
year unless there’s a huge shift in land mass or plate tectonics.
Why
don’t political districts stay more or
less the same from campaign to campaign without the hassle of
re-districting voters whose energy must
go towards the strong skill set to concentrate on casting their ballots?
Voters must learn how and in which manner voters so
choose to privately vote.
To know how to vote is half the battle because factual information is
difficult to come by when it comes to political candidates and corporate mass
media.
As a layman
private citizen, the only thing that comes to mind is that political candidates
those which indeed participate in
regional re-districting, do so for
their benefit because such candidates must be ‘hard up’ for votes and realize
that it’s too ‘close a race’ to call no matter what the corporate mass media
machine might say or whichever way corporate media might try to persuade voters
into further propaganda rather than a robust informational public service.
(Obviously.)
As a
layman private citizen, I’m amazed that in the year 2014 our ballots aren’t
cast by ‘smart digitals’ without leaving the comfort of our home. (I know, I
know. Security.)
As a
layman private citizen, I’m amazed that electoral districting exists (if at
all) when most American people can and would love the option to cast their vote
via some electronic medium or smart option.
Wouldn’t that be a dream
come true without hacking into voter information.
Yes, I’m
surprised that instead of standing in long lines and waiting for as much as
eight straight hours to vote or filing paper work for absentee ballot that Americans don’t just ‘fire up’
their tablets and place their votes within a matter of minutes.
What’s taking America so long to get modernized and cool
to convert into an electronic modern hip and responsible culture and era.
As a
layman private citizen the entire concept of electoral districting sounds
archaic even though constituents must factually prove where they live for a
sustainable period of time to cast any ballot. (I know, I know. Thinking out
loud.)
In a small economy and globe in which people travel
in-and-out of business systems and places and times and currency, one would
automatically think that one of the greatest endeavors that America would ‘take
under their wind’ and achieve is to make our democracy one of the most easily
accessible nations to vote ‘on the face of the planet’ because we’re American
‘damn it’ and we can get it done without fear of the ‘boogie monster’ under our
Republic’s bed.
America
must invest in communal fiber optics and domestic and medical advanced robotics
and democratic gadgetry that’ll catapult the globe into the next century before
that century arrives ever so near to its destined time.
As a layman private citizen, I was
taught, that all citizens must go to a physical voting booth or polling place
for the sake to authenticate the person to their personal registered ballot,
however, wouldn’t fingerprints or saliva or hair follicle recognition systems
regulate all of that.
How many cases of voter fraud are there?
Like one.
Voter fraud is so miniscule an issue that it’s a
non-issue no matter what anybody says.
As a
layman private citizen, I’m optimistically waiting for excellence in the
overall change of our voting organizational skills for our country to maintain
democratic viable digital options open to the American people rather than
making it more difficult to vote as it already is.
If
anything, political candidates ought to be promising constituents that if they
were to get elected to office that politicians will do everything in their
power to make voting one of the easiest democratic maneuvers in the world.
As a
layman private citizen, I’m surprised that political candidates can still get away
with ‘stealing’ districts as well as votes or entire elections for that matter.
As a
layman private citizen, I’m surprised how easy it is to confuse constituents
and that ought to be illegal.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000
Word Count: 2,033
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 2,033
*) Day #248
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #1
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #1
without stress: I love it.
--- --- ---
Personal Note:
Yesterday
I told a close and personal friend of mine an incorrect story about a friend of his (2014) that I personally
crossed paths with my friend’s friend about twenty (fall of 1995) or more years
ago here in the Twin Cities. (We haven’t spoken or seen each other since then
nor do we go out of our way to do so.)
Suddenly, today I heard a man in a three piece suit say
something and I realized that I hadn’t dated my friend’s friend. Nope. That’s
right. I had dated my friend’s friend’s best
friend. Yep.
Oh, goodness.
My friend’s going
to get ‘a good kick out of’ that story tomorrow because I’ve
got to tell my friend all about how his friend rejected my request for us to
date (back when I was seventeen years of age or so and my friend’s friend must’ve been sixteen) (oh, we were
babies) after my friend’s friend’s best
friend (at that time) and I broke
up that fall of 1995. (Oh, I hadn’t thought about that in about twenty years.
How the years go by ever so quickly.)
Furthermore,
my friend (2014) is close and personal friends with close acquaintances I knew
about twenty years back when we at least once slept out (non-sexually) in a
train car the night before…in 1996 (thanks for the safe experience).
What a small world.
Oh, Detroit.
Oh, Twin Cities.
How time flies by.
--- --- ---
Personal Note:
Progress 2014:
On
Saturday night, October 25, 2014 Eric and I both mutually fought together about
half-of-Eric’s responsibility to cook.
Eric yelled, and I yelled, and we yelled at each other
and together, and no one shrieked or screamed at the top of their lungs.
However and nevertheless, we disagreed and fought.
I win!
(From Saturday to Sunday, I fasted and
detoxified for twenty-four hours straight because I was so upset.)
Yeah, I didn’t fight Eric all by myself like a “Shrieking
Harpy.”
Eric actually raised his voice and said, “I’d rather that
you scream like a ‘Shrieking Harpy’ for the next seven years then learn to
cook.’ (I could’ve almost hit Eric
with a frying pan.)
On
Sunday, October 26, 2014 Eric actually cooked a Crockpot meal all by himself.
The food was amazing. (Eric’s forth Crockpot in eight years. I almost fell
over.)
Eric
informed me that one of the main reasons why he doesn’t want to learn to cook
is because he remembered the memory of when he poisoned someone and he’s been
paralyzed or terrified with fear to cook ever since, however. That’s no excuse.
More reason to learn. (I get it. I understand.)
Yes,
we’re still very much legally married.
Yes, we’re
exclusive and monogamous.
No,
neither one of us wears a wedding band (ring) because our knuckles get swollen
or our jewelry tends to get caught on technological equipment and it could mean
the difference between keeping a finger or losing a finger. (Anyone can
understand that.)
--- --- ---
Personal Note:
Last
week the therapist told me that when one partner provokes another partner into
“aggression” to ‘scream’ or ‘nag’ or ‘whine’ then it’s mainly because the
“passive” partner is playing the role of quasi
“victim” and “martyr” combined and
it’s the “passive” partner who creates the “violence” in the relationship or
partnership and it’s the “passive” partner’s fault because they’re wrong to do
that at all. (Okay.)
(We’re all learning. I was right the whole time. It
proves that I wasn’t going ‘crazy’ all on my own.)
(If one were to need a strong advocate then I’d suggest
that one does talk-therapy because it does wonders to clarify the root of any problem
and to advocate on behalf of the private client against forces standing in the
way of clarity or fairness or sensibilities or maturity or wisdom or justice.)
Yes, I get to keep my sanity.
Now, I see more clearly.
The Midwest is just too mean a place to live as an
overall culture it’s too passive aggressive cruel.
--- --- ---
Personal Note:
According
to the Endocrinologist there’s nothing wrong with me (per se) other than my
cholesterol is now too high at 298 and I must bring it down to 200 by the time
we meet next in six months April 2015.
Yes, the cysts are still inside my thyroid, however. My
thyroid cysts aren’t large enough to operate on thus problems persist.
Now, I must go to a “throat, nose, mouth” specialist,
next; As well as an OBGYN and back to my doctor for the millionth time.
My sore throats persist ‘24/7.’
--- --- ---
Personal Note:
Yes,
yesterday I chose to smoke three cigarettes with a friend who is in town for a
few days. (Back to the beginning of a new countdown.)
Yes, I
chose to socialize with one beer and some good food and philosophical
conversation and great company as well as discuss and talk passive / aggressive
Minnesota hypocritical culture that’s constantly making a business ‘pitch’
instead of ‘striking up’ smart conversation for the goodness of sharing ideas
and to provoke thought changing cultural cultivation.
(Yep, my friend in his forties was brought up by his
Minnesota Lutheran Mother and he’s teaching me a few good lessons about
Minnesota cruelty.)
Yes,
I’ve got to book a flight and go home (Costa Rica) for at least one or two
nights.
--- --- ---
Personal Note:
This week’s multiple dreams: show that
within the next twenty years both Eric and I’ll live and work as a couple in
London, Brittan for one whole complete year.
To my amazement, Eric’s agreed that when we retire within
fifteen years that we may spend one complete year to live and work in London,
Brittan.
In our
retirement as of (2029) we’d like to take a few sabbaticals and for one complete
year each, live in Finland and Costa Rica and decide where we’d like to make a
permanent home as two older retired people together who’ll dedicate their
retirement to animation filmmaking and living in different countries for one
year at a time.
Eric knows perfectly well that I’d like to spend one year
in Italy and one year in Spain and Ukraine and Austria (my favorite) and
Thailand and Laos and Vietnam and Mongolia and Switzerland and, and, and…
It would take about eleven years to fulfill that retirement
investment.
Monday, October 27, 2014
“A
sick person should be asked; a healthy one---given.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Bias (A
prejudice, leaning of the mind)
He showed a definite bias toward one party.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 25-26
How
shall I describe a lady? Solomon has done it for me:
“The
heart of her husband doth safely trust in her.”
“She
will do him good, and not evil, all the days of her life.”
“She
girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms.”
She
stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea she reacheth forth her hands to the
needy.”
She maketh herself coverings of
tapestry; her clothing in silk and purple.
“Her
husband is known in the gates.”
Strength
and honor are her clothing.
She
openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.
Strength,
honor, wisdom, goodness and virtue are her requisites.
A
woman strong and womanly in all ways, in whom the heart of a husband can safely
trust---this is the perfect lady.
(Literary Note:
When one sees ‘double spaces’ in copied text it’s only because I copy “exactly”
what I see from the published version, 1891. Yes. Correct.)
--- --- ---
11:00 P.M.
Hello.
No Blog.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000 // Personal Journals
Word Count: 52
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 10,479
*) Day #247 without
sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #32
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #5
without stress: I love it.
Friday, October 24, 2014
“Charity
is also a habit.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Abortive
(coming to nothing, unsuccessful)
The revolution proved to be abortive.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 25
The
true gentleman is rare, but, fortunately there is no crime in counterfeiting
his excellences. The best of it
is that the counterfeit may, in course of time, develop into the real thing.
(Literary Note:
When one sees ‘double spaces’ in copied text it’s only because I copy “exactly”
what I see from the published version, 1891. Yes. Correct.)
--- --- ---
Hello.
No Blog.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000 personal journals
Word Count: 52
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 10,546
*) Day #244 without
sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #29
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #4
without stress: I love it.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
“To
steal for charity is still stealing.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Venal
(capable of being bought, corrupt)
The dishonest policeman made a venal agreement
with the politician.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 25
It is this modest pride which gives him that
charming ease, which, above all things, marks his manner. He would converse
with Kings, or the embodied “blood of all the Howards,” with as much composure
as he would exhibit in speaking to his footman.
A perfect gentleman instinctively knows just
what to do under all circumstances, and need be bound by no written code of
manners. Yet there is an unwritten code which is as immutable as the laws of
the Medes and Persians, and we who would acquire gentility must by some means
make ourselves familiar with this.
--- --- ---
Hello.
American Police
Brutality 2014
Part A
*****
An American Police Culture
of Violence
2014
Please
keep in mind that some of my closest friends are American police personnel and I
love them dearly and they know me to be true.
Positive
policy changes are required in modern American police brutality cases and
murders.
Absolutely
not. Local police personnel aren’t ever to become a militarized independent
state militia otherwise all sorts of laws are broken and people will go to jail
because that’s illegal.
Yes, by
policy, American police personnel must learn a new modern culture of peace and
kindness especially in the midst of danger and difficulties in overcoming
professional fear of death.
Yes, by
policy, American police personnel must learn American Constitutional Laws and
Civil Liberties and memorize them.
Yes, by
policy, American police personnel must wear uniforms and equipment suitable to
their local profession and not look like some idiotic juvenile ideal of some
1980’s “Rambo” film.
If police personnel aren’t properly trained or qualified
as an FBI SWAT Team member then one mustn’t conduct themselves as such or play
with dangerous toys (firearms or tanks) or ‘play dress up’ ‘FBI agent’ when
police aren’t.
The scariest component to modern (2014) American police
civil servants is that local police departments have gone loco “militarized”
and equipped with war zone materials and weaponry and hardware when factually
The People didn’t even so much as get to vote on any memorandum about bringing
in militarized equipment for civil obedience or much less does the media say
much about this topic of serious needed discussion, debate and conversation.
Where’s the FBI in all this when The People’s rights are
trampled by some made up ‘boogie man’ in militarized outfits spouting off with
army weaponry upon the streets of America? (What. God save the Americans and
their Constitutional Legal Rights.)
It’s obvious that such local police personnel (men and
women) are amateurs and haven’t been properly trained to use any of the
“militarized” equipment and only use tanks to instill fear and not to build
bridges between police brutality and civilian mistrust.
Yes, by
policy, all American police personnel must carry and keep ‘body-cameras’ turned
on at all times during their shifts otherwise police personnel must immediately
go back to headquarters (‘police station’) and replace their camera batteries
(thanks.)
Yes, by policy,
American police personnel must maintain better records (and copies) as well as
become better record keepers in their ‘police reports’ because such tremendous literary responsibility
comes with the job (otherwise go dig ditches in Siberia) and it’s the
responsible mature and professional adult thing to do to keep good and precise copious overall records throughout
the decades and centuries especially when police personnel are tired at the end
of long and possibly dangerous shifts, especially then, that’s when police
personnel must make or write down written reports because their memories are
fresh, and not the day after, or years, or decades later in the aftermath of an
event because the ‘devil’s in the details’ so remember.
(Take a picture
with one’s mind as if one’s mind were
a camera then write down those details which sometimes even a videographer may
overlook or not.)
Yes, by
policy, American police personnel must learn to be better at writing ‘police
reports’ and overall record keeping.
The number
one complaint by legal attorneys is that police personnel don’t keep good
enough written out ‘police reports’ or overall detailed records because police
personnel overlook record making and keeping because police personnel lack the
discipline to precisely record and write well thus police personnel require
more training in fully developed written language as well as ‘police reports’
(as an entire genre in and of itself)
as well as better educated in the Liberal Arts. (Ouch.)
The
number one reason why police personnel must learn to become better and stronger
and more disciplined writers is so that
police personnel stay civilized, and keen on the observatory nature of basic
instincts and crime so that our
police personnel might someday become our ever amazing detectives who solve
difficult crime puzzles, or lend concrete and positive conflict resolution
methods, or constructive solutions to neighborhood problems in general with
specific timelines and set goals, or criteria, or positive problem solving short
term and long term agendas, otherwise detectives are no good to communities as
an overall species.
When detectives lack that type of intelligence then that
most likely means that possibly police personnel lack astuteness in their
capacity to think like intellectuals (ouch) when any crime might call for
knowledge of history, or the humanities and philosophy and ethics and writing
and poetry otherwise police personnel seem not to be able to make sense out of
their work because possibly police personnel might come at the facts with
strong biases and negligence to their record keeping duties as a strong moral
aspect of their profession.
In other words: Modern (2014) police
personnel lack the essential ability or skill to write well much less keep a
daily ‘Captain’s Log’ which means that they’re not nautical men or women who
can and will and do sail by the moon and the stars (which keeps anyone humble).
Police
personnel must be men and women of factual science and not some reactionary
impulse to control the world.
Yes, by
policy, American police personnel must learn an essential Asian martial arts
philosophical mental approach to danger rather than a Western reactionary
method of self protection.
Yes, by
policy, American police personnel must learn how to ‘control their emotions’
especially anger and anxiousness and fear and learn how to bring down their
heart and pulse rate and learn to breathe to be mindful and thoughtful to
better make complex decisions while ‘on their feet’ ‘in the heat of the moment’.
In many Eastern martial art philosophies one goes with
the flow of a united consciousness or Chi or energy and not against the will of
all united living forces because to do so is to weaken one’s position or life
source or concentration and precision rather than improper or fear filled
action.
American police personnel must learn to control and
harness their high strung emotions while under duress or strenuous danger or
stress otherwise our police personnel will age faster than the rest of our
population and we can’t afford that as an entire culture or our police
personnel will make dire and deadly wrongful decisions against their better
judgment that which could possibly shorten their lifespan by a few decades due
to stress or ‘in the line of duty’ and sudden death originated out of fear and
wrongful decision making by impulsive movements or reactions. (That
translated.)
If our American police personnel can’t or won’t learn to
distinguish mental stress from actual physical stress then they’ll act foolishly
and most likely commit unjustifiable harm to another or break laws and land
themselves in jail where they’ll get taught tougher lessons than…
Correct;
the brain doesn’t seem to decipher ‘real’ stress from ‘imaginary’ stress
therefore as mature adults we must ‘control our emotions’ and put ourselves ‘in
check’ while we asses difficult situations coming at us all at once otherwise
we’re simply not smart enough to know better and further education must be set
in place for a smarter breed of men and women.
*****
American Police
Brutality 2014
Part B
Well,
I’m not any expert about police.
As a
private American citizen, (who votes) it’s difficult to comprehend as to what exactly gives ‘justifiable cause’
to American police units (across the country) to publically brutalize private
American citizens and civilians as well as kill Americans in cold blooded
murder upon the streets of ‘Tis America of Thee’.
Remember: The American history of
police personnel began as jobs for men to seek and hunt runaway slaves.
(Period.)
(Yikes. What a history.) Indeed creepy.
With an already strongly established history of violence
and murder then our police personnel will do “everything” in their power to
sustain their brutal authority without much realizing that not only do American
taxpayers pay for police salaries and healthcare benefits and retirement
pensions as well as American taxpayers
Establish and Change and Regulate The Laws of The Land.
The
American taxpayer Rules The Land (America).
‘No one’ owns The Land (America) (per se, most likely
China owns America) except for the overall consensus and vote of the majority;
Not the cops or police or FBI or CIA or NSA or Social Security or what have you may establish tyrannical
order upon a strong democratic voter Republic state. (Period.)
Those are the Republic’s Rules and Laws not to be changed
or broken unless America becomes a monarchy or fascist state or Anarchy or
dictatorship yet again American citizens must first vote for that type of
change in legal governance structure.
The
People Rule America.
Yes,
America is that ‘cool’.
*****
The
queerest (oddest) aspect about modern (2014) police units is that police tend
to ‘saunter off’ into the sunset, in all
of their protective gear yet like idiots police come across like ‘losers’
when they point and aim their guns and firearms into any crowd or peaceful
demonstrators.
What’s wrong with our modern police?
Don’t modern police personnel know any better?
Obviously not.
In the
late 1980’s, we (our generation X) got taught in school that no police
personnel may ever point and aim a gun into any crowd or against any individual
unless such police personnel intended to shoot and kill their own citizens which
is considered unpatriotic.
If any
police personnel were ever so inclined as
to shoot and kill and murder any American citizen or civilian (especially
while any crowd peacefully demonstrates or publically gathers) in a cold
blooded attempt then police must face imprisonment of some type because police judgment sure can get blurred, and
peaceful demonstrators hold the right not to be murdered in cold blood by our
police personnel because the police must (at all times) side with peaceful
demonstrators and not police peer pressure or ‘queer’ (odd) idealisms about
macho perceptions or be driven by war battle gear or fear.
At all times, police personnel must refrain from pointing
and aiming any type of firearm or weapon at or into any crowd unless police personnel
were first either A) violently
touched (not mistakenly swayed by a crowd more so punched or otherwise drawn
blood) or B) in a life-or-death threatening situation either to their person or
through bodily harm otherwise police must keep their dicks (guns) in their
pockets or crowds have the right to self protect (by any means necessary)
especially against “police brutality” which police personnel are paid as civic
dutiful servants, nothing more and
nothing less and don’t ever forget that.
Police
personnel aren’t Gestapo and they shall be overturn and overcome at each step
of the way by American citizens and civilians and politicians and policy makers
because it’s the right and just thing to do to keep and maintain legal civility
no matter what especially when it
comes to brutal police culture and brutality and murder.
In other words:
police don’t hold any more or less rights than any other private citizen does.
(Yep.) Murder’s murder.
In other words:
police personnel don’t hold any ‘license to kill’ unless police desire to have
(figuratively speaking) The People (if The People were so inclined to choose to
barbarically) string up any criminal police personnel and hang them by
lampposts by their ankles. (Although, the court systems are the best form of
justice over any violence of any type.)
In other words:
if any police personnel draws any firearm or weapon into any crowd or peaceful
gathering then he or she will go straight to jail for public endangerment.
(Period.) (End of story.) (Case closed.) (‘Shut the ‘fuck up’ and go home’.)
When
police make the first physical act of
threat of violence by drawing
their firearms or weapons against or into any crowd or peaceful demonstrators
then Americans may overthrow the police state regime (at which point) and The
People may so choose to self govern for the interim or not. (Yep.)
When
police make the first physical act of
threat of violence by drawing
their firearms or weapons against or into any crowd or peaceful demonstrators
then the “National Guard” may officially (by delegation or vote) step in and
take over the ‘totalitarian’ police militant state force or regime (of any town
or city or state) fighting against their own body of citizens or civilians and
that’s ethical justification and grounds enough to protect any American citizen
or civilian under law because our American People come first instead of power
hungry or brutal or abusive or violent or corrupt or possibly mentally ill or
‘insane’ police personnel not quite deemed or suitable enough to meet their
duties ‘in the line of fire’ (swear to God). Right. Right.
(Be careful and learn one’s constitutional rights by
law.)
Yes, The
People may place police personnel under arrest for unjustifiable brutality or unlawful
means if such police personnel were ever so inclined as to take away The
People’s freedom to peacefully assemble together as a means to positive change
or as a means of self expression.
(Yes. The People win versus police personnel. Every time.
The laws are made to be on the side of The People, and no one else, otherwise
it’s a corrupt system and like hell if Americans are going to let that happen
because we refuse for anyone to get shot
down by any police force or regime in cold blood upon the streets of
America because this isn’t Ireland (as a general example).)
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000
Word Count: 2,278
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 10,546
*) Day #243
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #28
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #4
without stress: I love it.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
“The
longest road in the world is the one that leads from your pocket.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish
Quotations)
Venerable
(worthy of respect or reverence)
We love to call the venerable old man grandfather.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 23, 24, 25
Indeed,
a gentleman, in the highest signification of the term, is a noble animal. Viewed as furnished with all those
qualities which should unite to complete the impression, he may be considered
as the image of a perfect man.
He
has all that is valuable of Christian accomplishment, he has its gentleness,
its disinterestedness, its amiableness.
Employing,
in the regulation of his own conduct, the strictest standard of propriety, and
in his expectations of that of others, the most lenient; cautions in accepting
quarrel, more cautious in giving cause for it; lending to virtue the forms of
courtesy, and borrowing from her the substance of sincerity; forming his
opinions boldly, expressing them gracefully; in action, brave, in conference,
gentle; always anxious to please, and always willing to be pleased; expecting
from none what he would not be inclined to yield to all; giving interest to
small things, whenever small things cannot be avoided, and gaining elevation
from great, whenever great can be attained; valuing his own esteem too highly
to be guilty of dishonor, and the esteem of others too considerately to be
guilty of incivility; never violating decency, and respecting even the
prejudices of honesty; yielding with an air of strength, and opposing with an appearance
of submission; full of courage, but free from ostentation; without assumption,
without servility; too wise to despise trifles, but too noble ever to be
degraded by them; dignified but not haughty, firm but not impracticable,
learned but not pedantic; to his superiors respectful, to his equals courteous;
kind to his inferiors, and wishing well to all.
--- --- ---
7:57 A.M.
Hello.
What about November
elections 2014?
Well, over
the months of September 2014 and October 2014 most of America’s corporate mass
media news outlets did their very
best to cover anything other than
midterm American elections 2014 or potential present political candidates (for
that matter) while on the campaign trail for official elected governance in
office and if candidates are either
running for re-election then what policies do such candidates support and what
bills did they vote on and so on and so forth, etc, etc, etc… Or. (What’s their
track record?)
If any candidate is new to the political playing field
then what do they represent and how do candidates think about any policies and
how will candidates vote on particular bills they might pass or not and what
can candidates do to bring vitality back into the “Middle Income Earning”
economic status.
(Any election’s a huge deal to voters because
we’re Americans thus corporate mass media news outlets must get going on
presenting factual information to the public about the many policies of the
candidates in this political cycle like any other cycle, however please don’t
ever clubber us over the head with propaganda. Thanks.)
Corporate
mass media news outlets and their ‘noisy’ and ‘busy’ distractions sure did get
old quickly.
(Most of September 2014 and well into October
2014 we play our personal USB music compilation on a daily basis while we
either drive or ride in the car.)
We’ve
got to start research (Eric and I) about our district’s politicians up for
election or re-election this cycle because we don’t even know who’s running in
this election 2014 much less in our district.
We
always vote.
Why
wouldn’t we vote?
Of
course, we vote because we’re posh and democratic and modern and married
Americans.
Yes, we leave
our political research till the very end of the campaign trail because we’re
busy with work and life and don’t make time to keep up with specific
politicians, however and most definitely, on a daily basis we do keep up with
global current events and weather.
We have no clue ‘who’s who’ of this political election
cycle nor do we care however we must begin to care like yesterday. (Okay.)
We don’t
even know if there’ll be two or three or four referendum questions on the
ballot because issues must be addressed and voters must vote; no two ways about
it.
Memorandum Ballot Questions:
1.
Should there be an oil
pipeline across Minnesota?
Yes
or
No
[Check Box.]
2.
Should Minnesota invest in
future ‘green’ energy technologies and industries and services without
producing hardly any or zero garbage or carbon emissions?
Yes
or [Check Box.]
No
In other words: Should Minnesota invest
in new ‘green’ technologies such as wind or solar power across-the-board brought
to communities by our citizens’ taxes and provided to all public buildings
(schools and libraries and government buildings) as well as industries that
create almost zero carbon emissions or garbage such as 3D printing or digital
online media services without leaving the comfort of one’s home for consumer
purchase such as clothes or hardlines or digital mass media entertainment?
Yes
or [Check Box.]
No
{Side Note:}
A dream it would’ve been to have received some type of tax
‘write off’ for almost emitting zero carbon emissions over the past twelve
years (2002-2014) to the present because our small businesses don’t compete
with hedge fund fortune 500 corporations because our businesses are small yet
our work is geared and mainly centered to only communicate and work online thus
we hardly ever create any wasteful byproducts or garbage. (Hooray.)
We can’t remember the last that time we used paper to
conduct any type of business: 2007? (Yes.)
When we first got our startup and began our career with
one digital camera and computer then eventually twelve years later we upgraded
to a “tablet” (2007? Yes) and a digital cell phone which is all that one
requires to conduct international global enterprise without polluting the Earth
completely to a halt.
3.
Should Minnesota invest in
the appropriate market percentage points of inflation in raising the ‘minimum
wage’ to a modern and comparable and economic standard of at least twenty-one
dollars per hour?
Yes
or [Check Box.]
No
(America’s five decades behind on the ‘minimum’ annual
inflation percentage rate point increase in modern American ‘minimum wage’
payout. The minimum hourly wage ought to be at least twenty-one ($21.00) plus
some dollars.)
4.
Will Minnesota bring home
our troops for good as promised by federal governance by the end of December
2014?
Yes
or [Check Box.]
No
*****
Yes, I
suppose anyone could consider us “ignorant” about our local political research
however there’s so much ‘noise’ in corporate mass media news outlet
misinformation that all we’ve been able to do to self preserve (as of late) is
to turn off all commercials or political adds or change channel or watch films
or listen to (non-commercial) music.
Yes, we’re
stunned to hear that Democratic candidates so much as can afford to decline any
debate against their opponents at the expense of public information and
knowledge. (What.)
Where does any political office forfeit the opportunity
to directly relay factual information with any constituent about concrete
issues with examples that do actually
effect our national economy and education and civil rights and debt?
Yes,
we’ve settled into a cool fall season.
We’re about to celebrate our most important holiday of the year which happens to be
Halloween. (Yep.)
(No, we don’t practice paganism or witch craft of any
type.)
For our
family, Halloween happens to be the single most important holiday of the entire
year because we stop to rest and celebrate being together and respectfully pass
out candy to neighborhood children and their parents as well as get into the
spirit of Halloween decorations and lights and carve out pumpkins and close out
the end of the warm season with annual hot apple cider and cinnamon and whip
cream and anything that reminds us of October like sitting down to a “Charlie
Brown” special.
Then we
prepare for Thanksgiving (at the end of each November) which Thanksgiving’s a
special holiday and unique in its own particular way.
We give thanks.
We spend Thanksgiving either in Roseville or St. Paul,
Minnesota.
(Thanksgiving’s all about the turkey and the meal and
good clean fun company and nothing else.) (We gather around with Hamline
University alumni and have a riot.)
Then we
prepare for (Hanukkah) Christmas Holiday and don’t put up any lights or
decorations or our plastic Christmas tree until the weekend of Thanksgiving or
the weekend after Thanksgiving each year because lots happens just getting from
one holiday to the next which fall and winter holidays happen all quite too
quickly in October and November and December and January with the kickoff of
New Year’s.
(These four holidays clip along quickly like mile twenty
four and mile twenty five and mile twenty six at the end of any marathon that
goes by in a blur and then we cross the finish line with our best time yet
ever.)
Then we
prepare for New Year’s.
We celebrate New Year’s by staying home with good
Champaign and comfy pajamas and good television and warmth and awesome New
Year’s snacks or treats that we haven’t had all year long like chocolate cake
or pecan pie or raspberry or blueberry or orange muffins or, or, or whip cream
or “sugar milk” (eggnog).
We don’t
like to be rushed from one holiday to the next because we savor each and every
holiday because we’re only going to be alive once or so we strongly theorize.
*****
We treat
our political research in the same manner in which we treat our Holiday
(“Christmas”) shopping which happens to be something that we actually and
physically conduct either one of each of the two activities about two weeks
right before we vote or Christmas Eve occurs and not a day before that.
Every single year, we physically get out and do our
Christmas shopping just two short weeks before Christmas Eve because it’s
exciting to wait till the last minute to shop amongst other respectful and
excited and happy last minute shoppers who don’t panic either because we
purchase the same gift each and every single year-after-year.
We do
our political research and Christmas holiday shopping in the same fashion for
the only reason that we stop long enough to consider either one of those two
events and short enough to do something about it before it’s too late or by the
time they’re over on the calendar otherwise we probably wouldn’t notice either
one of those two events.
We abhor to get rushed into any holiday season or
election cycle because it’s all the same ‘noise’ year-after-year and the art of
self preservation is to block out all the ‘noise’ and polluted sound so as to
expand one’s consciousness and comfortably alongside maturity sit in the middle
of silence.
We do
our political research in the same manner in which we shop for Christmas gifts
which we happen to spend three-hundred dollars in “gift cards” for Eric’s
family alone and we take my Finn-Jewish-Minnesotan American family out to eat
at “Good Earth” throughout the warm or cold seasons as well as send holiday
cards via post.
Not for any reason do we want to participate in any mass
general public driven political melodrama or panic because we’ve got one too
many serious responsibilities to attend to throughout the year as most other
adults do also.
The
specific reason why we don’t conduct political research about candidates
(throughout the year) is because anything can happen at any time and any
candidate can drop out of the race at any moment thus it’s best to wait till
closer to ballot time.
Modern
Americans (within the past decade) have taught us not to shop until about two
weeks right before Christmas Eve or conduct political research until about two
weeks right before we vote because A) most “Middle Class” Americans can’t
afford holiday shopping until right up to the holidays are upon them which most
Americans resent the reminder that advertisers push upon them which is that
mostly Americans can’t even afford a stick of gum unless they must and B) most
Americans get sick of hearing the same old mean political adds that contain
very little factual information, anyway.
Yes, if
Congressman Keith Ellison is up for re-election then we’ll vote for Mr. Ellison
because we trust what that man has to say to anyone otherwise I have no idea
who’s running or what’s happening in our immediate local politics.
Yes,
local politics are far more important than federal politics because everything
that needs to get done, gets done at home and not in Washington D.C.
Yes,
we’ll research before we head out to the polls.
Yes, Americans
must vote. Period.
Now that
you know how “ignorant” we are then join us in discovering “facts” about
present political candidates and what they represent and stand for or fall
apart.
Yes,
what a beautiful thing to become informed right before one votes in any
election cycle so that one can confidently go to the voting booth with a light
heart and prepared to do their civic duty to advance our civilized culture by
voting for candidates who won’t stonewall progress rather embrace progress and
actually show up for work in Congress rather than skip town and not deal head
on with the rather quite important affairs of our nation such as war and the
economy and healthcare and education and immigration and, and, and...
*****
We don’t
like to break with positive and celebratory tradition.
To vote is one of the most fundamental
and basic American principles and traditions there are therefore we preserve
and practice free vote and free speech and free expression in our adult lives
because we find it important to continue to push for equality and affordable
healthcare and affordable public education without having our citizens be
turned away from healthcare or education only because money’s an object of
discontent or disconnect.
*****
We’d
like to think that we aren’t purists.
We’d
like to strive for something economically better than we’ve witnessed in
America for the past decade.
We’d
like to think that politicians aren’t going to say one thing on their campaign
trail and as soon as they get voted into office make contradictory decisions or
policies different from those aspects of their campaign speeches or reading
material.
We’d
like to think that not all politicians are ‘insane’ like the Tea Party or
hardcore right wing Neo conservative Republican fascists (yep, I meant that
literally).
We’d
like to think that there’re still some politicians who actually know anything
there’s to know about politics and who can and will serve as elected public
officials because they find it their duty to become public servants to their
fellow human beings.
We’d
like to think that someone’s going to ‘stick their neck out’ there for the
preservation of “Middle Class” American families and their education and
affordable healthcare and up to at least twenty-one dollar minimum wage
increase, which American workers have earned over the course of five dusty old
decades.
We’d
like to think that our citizens’ overall wellbeing still matters in America even
though the ‘uneducated’ ignoramus rich have taken over congress in the form of
lobbyists or corporate interest groups who know nothing about the real lives
and hardships of Americans today while Wall Street got filthy rich on the
broken backs of our people.
We’d
like to think that no politician is going to use absurd or racist or classist
or prejudiced or vulgar or sexualized language when speaking about minorities
or women constituents or potential constituents.
We’d
like to think that politicians can and will and do conduct themselves with as
much grace and dignity and respect and integrity as they can possibly muster
without the need to be destructive or abusive against those with lesser status
or income than politicians.
We’d
like to think that politicians are civilized and their policies won’t get any
of our American women raped or killed or abused because politicians might
harbor some (‘fucked up’) secret hatred towards women.
We’d
like to think that politicians are humane even though they look ‘greasy’ as
hell much of the time.
We’d like to think that politicians can speak some form
of factual informational truth to the public without manipulating the facts.
We’d
like to think that politicians aren’t out to gain millions from their congress
‘insider trading’ and forget all about their people back in their home states
who starve or go with very little because of warped policies and bills passed
in congress for the betterment of deeper pockets that care less if children
live with constant starvation and
subpar educational standards.
We’d
like to think that politicians do have their priorities straight.
We’d
like to think that politicians can and do and will separate church from state
because it’s the honorable and decent and good respectable thing to do for the
sake and the health and overall psychological vitality of our nation.
We’d
like to think that politicians won’t go corrupt once they arrive at Washington
D.C. and ‘get caught with their dicks stuck in the cookie jar’ or ‘giving head
to some senator from down south’. (No, of course, not.)
We’d
like to think that politicians will sign the “Violence Against Women Act” for
as long as congress stands directly under the lamp of democracy.
We’d
like to think that politicians are ‘hip’ and ‘cool’ and know that ‘Gestapo’ NSA
is an old dusty concept of yesterday.
We’d
like to think that politicians are against our government spying upon our
private citizens and civilians, alike.
We’d
like to think that politicians can uphold themselves to some higher ethical
standard and stay away from insulting their opponents and concentrate more on
their policies.
We’d
like to think that politicians know that modern Americans don’t believe in war
of any type much less policing the world.
We’d like
to think that politicians don’t hate their constituents, so much as to, incarcerate them, by the hundreds of thousands, for
petty misdemeanors, like smoking “marijuana,” in a prohibition era, when most
Americans die from stress, (as a poor
example).
We’d
like to think that politicians know and understand very well that modern
Americans would like to see less waste so that American enterprise will
implement biodegradable products into mass manufacturing and consumer goods by
the end of 2015. (The Oceans and Earth’s filled with garbage.)
We’d
like to think that politicians understand that public transit must be made free
to the public.
We’d
like to think that politicians know that free daycare must be made free to the
public.
We’d
like to think that politicians know that free college and university must be
made tuition free to the public.
We’d
like to think that politicians know that affordable and free healthcare ought
to be implemented in every state of our nation.
We’d
like to think that politicians know that every child ought to be granted the
use of a tablet through public education.
We’d
like to think that politicians know that we must rebuild our infrastructure.
We’d
like to think that politicians know that we must get away from oil and into
wind and solar and electric green energies otherwise, poof.
We’d
like to think that politicians know that America must get back to factual
science and mathematics.
We’d
like to think that politicians won’t disregard the needs of our black brothers
and sisters in the inner cities.
We’d
like to think that politicians care about the condition of our human plight.
We’d
like to think that politicians know that the entire nation ought to go
paperless by the end of 2015.
We’d like
to think that politicians know that no American citizen or civilians ought to
be spied on by its government.
We’d
like to think that politicians won’t purchase any Supreme Court judges.
We’d
like to think that politicians know about the importance of early voting and
registration.
We’d
like to think that politicians know about voting rights.
We’d
like to think that politicians know about the great travesty and hardship in
Native American reservations.
We’d
like to think that politicians know about clean water act.
We’d
like to think that politicians think.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 3,000
Word Count: 3,124
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 8,268
*) Day #242
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #27
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #4
without stress: I love it.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
“If
charity cost nothing,
the
world would be full of philanthropists.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Aura (a
distinctive atmosphere)
He has the aura of sanctity about him whilst he
prays.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 23
A gentleman always possesses
a certain self-respect,---not indeed touching upon self-esteem, and far removed
from self-conceit,---which relieves him from the fear of failing in propriety,
or incurring remarks.
--- --- ---
8:50 A.M.
Hello.
LOVE
I love
Eric because Eric’s natural smell is honeycomb and not sickly sweet diabetes
sweat smells.
I love
Eric because Eric’s not a ‘psycho killer.’
I love
Eric because Eric’s a law abiding citizen and so am I.
I love
Eric because Eric’s not ever gone to jail nor have I.
I love
Eric because Eric’s basically good and so am I.
I love
Eric because Eric’s basically quiet and so am I.
I love
Eric because Eric’s basically smart and so am I.
I love
Eric because Eric’s skin is nearly flawless.
I love Eric
because Eric’s skin is smooth.
I love
Eric because Eric’s clean.
I love
Eric because Eric’s barely any wrinkles.
I love
Eric because of Eric’s long eye lashes.
I love
Eric because of Eric’s beautiful blue eyes.
I love
Eric because Eric’s a man and smells like a man.
I love
Eric because Eric’s masculine and gentle.
I love
Eric because Eric’s an amazing lover and that counts for something beautiful in
any marriage otherwise it’s definitely futile.
I love
Eric because we touch every single day.
I love
Eric because Eric’s brilliant and caring.
I love
Eric because Eric’s intelligent about his field of expertise and industry.
I love
Eric because Eric knows exactly what
Eric’s talking about except when it comes to romance or romantic gestures.
I love
Eric because Eric’s smart as the dickens.
I love
Eric because Eric’s vocabulary’s extensive.
I love
Eric because Eric doesn’t swear out loud.
I love
Eric because Eric can and will and does control his temper during work hours and
while out in public with me and / or others. (Thank you.)
I love
Eric because Eric gets Bostonian-style ‘road rage’ when Eric’s family’s placed
in danger by other drivers.
I love
Eric because Eric drives well while I drive like a Grandmother.
(Yes, I’m a ‘nervous driver’ because I have terrible eye
sight and a tough time with “spatial relations,” which I’m informed that all women do and men don’t have the same
problems with “spatial relations.”) (Okay.)
I love
Eric because Eric’s a natural leader.
I love
Eric because Eric’s a natural reader.
I love
Eric because we finally re-stocked our personal and private library collection
filled with about one thousand and thirty-three (1,033) books (we live in a
small 1950’s house thus that’s a real feat of heroism to fit that many books
into a small space.)
I love
Eric because Eric’s a technological “geek” yet Eric enjoys old ‘dusty’ books on
bookshelves around our home just as I do.
I love
Eric because Eric can take apart any electronics and put it back together.
(Yes, I especially I love that about Eric. That skill set
is ultimately sexy to me.
A man who can and will and does work with his hands yet
intellectually makes any proper analysis whichever might need to be made at any
time about anything at all.
By-and-by Eric’s a true scientist.)
I love
Eric because Eric can and will and does run any electronic equipment or code or
software in the world because he’s that brilliantly smart.
(Give Eric a second to warm up, then Eric’s off to the races and can and will and
does problem solve just about anything to do with any type of code or software
or hardware. How beautiful is that? Quite. I
love that.)
I love
Eric because Eric knows about electricity and innovation and science and
scientific research and mathematics.
I love
Eric because Eric can (however Eric doesn’t because Eric’s a professional
expert in Eric’s chosen industry of work) and might ‘hack’ into any computer
written code or system or program in the world to help out other professionals
in our industry that might ask for cyberspace security assistance. (How do I
know that? I do.)
One of
the most romantic gestures Eric ever did for me (in the second month of dating
December 2006) is that without a word
Eric pointed to Eric’s computer monitor and directly showed me how Eric
navigated through a particular world renowned ‘Gestapo’ website without being
detected well after 2001 when Homeland Security went ‘Gestapo’ bananas in their brains.
Eric closed out of the system and we haven’t spoken of it
until recently because it’s been more than eight years since then (December
2006).
(Eric’s brilliance is one of the most romantic gestures
in the entire world even though that particular example of ‘hacking’
(navigating through systems) only lasted six (6) seconds.)
I shan’t ever forget it for as long as I live. I’m still
amazed and mesmerized at Eric’s intelligence all these years later and Eric’s
not even a genius. Incredible.
I love
Eric because Eric’s friends think like geniuses.
I love
Eric because Eric’s friends are genuinely kind.
I love
Eric because Eric’s ever so revered and respected by entire communities and
sectors of populations across the globe and so am I.
I love
Eric because Eric’s genuinely honest.
I love
Eric because Eric’s kind and generous.
I love
Eric because Eric’s trust worthy.
I love
Eric because Eric’s analytical yet doesn’t get personal.
I love
Eric because Eric’s capable of explaining anything to anyone in the entire
globe because Eric’s that great of a teacher, although sometimes short on
patience if students happen to be arrogant or dismissive of others’ teachings,
then what’s the point?
(There isn’t a
point in being a rude or arrogant student therefore its best not to waste
any teacher’s valuable time.)
I love
Eric because Eric’s fashionable when he wants to be.
I love
Eric because Eric’s an Alpha male.
I love
Eric because Eric’s an official expert.
I love
Eric because Eric’s not a ‘nature boy’.
I love
Eric because Eric doesn’t drink soda.
I love
Eric because Eric doesn’t smoke cigarettes (ever).
I love
Eric because Eric doesn’t participate in illegal drugs.
I love
Eric because Eric doesn’t get drunk.
I love Eric
because Eric can and will and does leisurely drink a glass of red wine or
(non-genetically modified) beer on a Friday night and call it a night.
I love
Eric because Eric does shower each and every single night of our relationship
before we fall into bed together and wish each other “goodnight” and touch
arm-to-arm.
I love
Eric because as of last week, Eric became my artistic muse for the first time
ever, and it’s not the same as any other muse because my muse now happens to be
my husband, and what does one do when one’s spouse turns into one’s muse?
No, not
ever did I consider that that would
happen to me.
(I guess we ride out this wave.)
I love
Eric because I’ve finally matured with Eric.
I love
Eric because I finally don’t self loathe when I’m miserable with Eric due to
his actions.
I love
Eric because now that I’ve written about Eric as my husband I’ve moved up a few
many rungs in literary status, however, one can only write about one’s married
spouse with the infinite trusting love of a married partner and a legal binding
marriage contract and with all of the trust of one’s loving partner not to
tarnish their reputation as well as do well by the other that’s being written
about as well as move forward together.
I love
Eric because Eric finally catapulted me into the literary throng of high
literary status and development of the greats.
A writer finally becomes mature when they can and will
and do write publically about their most intimate trusted relationship to their
partner because doing so is not only the greatest compliment yet also the most
difficult aspect of writing there is to accomplish because that’s deep
introspection about one’s relationship to write honestly and ever so forward
and direct about anything at all between any couple.
*****
I love
Eric because Eric’s taught me about “Disney” movies and “Peanuts” comics and
television history and “Star Wars” and “Star Trek” and “I.T. Crowd” and
“Firefly” and “Batman” and “The Hulk” and “Captain America” and “The Simpsons”
and “Family Guy” and 1970’s cinema and television in general and shows and
movies and horror films and the history of film and 2014 broadcasting standards
and 1980’s music and technological evolution in software equipment and weather
patterns and how to dress for Minnesota cold winters and nature safety tips and
HTML and “Midwestern Big Foot” and “Midwestern Giants” and how space weather
affects Earth’s weather and general excavating rock history (archeology) and
how to get along with Minnesotans who are ever so passive aggressive in
communication style which makes them some of the most boring people to deal
with while in conflict and Eric’s taught me about lotion for long cold and dry
harsh winters so that my skin and hands don’t crack and bleed anymore.
More or less both Eric and I arrive at
the same answers even though we take quite different routes to arrive at our
destination.
Eric’s
highly analytical and honest in his approach.
We both
married extremely well with the exception of our temperaments and stubbornness.
Yes, I
love the way I feel safe around Eric.
Yes, I
love that Eric can replace scientific fact for my Roman Catholic superstitious
religious nonsense.
Yes, I
love that Eric refuses to go to church on a yearly basis.
Yes, I
love that if Eric and I were to birth future children then we’re in agreement
that our unborn future children shan’t be brought up in any religious setting
because many religious church doctrines or idealism are criminal and
psychologically abusive.
Yes, I
love that Eric’s an atheist because so am I even though I pray to three hundred
(plus some) Mayan Gods (per yearly basis) as well I say daily Mayan
“theological” prayers each and every single day of my life.
Yes, I
fell ‘head over heels’ in love with Eric’s mother, who happens to be my
mother-in-law (believe it or not).
Yes, I
love Eric because Eric’s taught me all about patience and how to make a strong
comeback after health issues and problems and surgeries such as heart attack
scares for Eric and abdominal surgeries for me.
Yes, I love that Eric adores me.
Yes, I
adore Eric and he knows it, too.
Yes, I
love that Eric thinks I’m beautiful because that’s all that matters.
Yes, I
do love that I find Eric handsome.
Yes, I adore
that when I ask Eric to please and gently to re-tell the story of “Star Wars”
then Eric will and does. I like that Eric’s been ever so patient with me to
help me learn about the many motives of the many characters in “Star Wars.”
Yes,
Eric’s aware that I’m ‘crazy’ about “Star Trek” even though I still don’t
always follow the storylines.
Yes, I
love that Eric’s ever so patient and kind to either press the “pause” or “mute”
button if there’s ever anything that I didn’t properly translate or if I need
to discuss something with Eric about whatever we’re watching at the time so
that I might better understand it.
I love
Eric because Eric sure can be sweet when he wants to be.
I love
Eric because Eric reminds me of the character of Schroeder in “Charlie Brown” even though Eric
says that when I get mad I remind Eric of the character of “Lucy.” I wish Eric
would think better of me than “Lucy.” I wish Eric would think of me as one of
snoopy’s little bird friends up in the bird nest sipping tea and eating healthy
snacks.
Oh, well. I ought to try taking the football away each
and every time Eric tries to kick it and see what happens then, when mostly I’m
quite helpful.
Yes, I
adore that Eric’s not into porn and Eric’s sexy especially when Eric refuses to
subject himself to mental garbage. (I got lucky in life.)
Yes, I
adore that Eric’s not a sexual predator.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000
Word Count: 2,171
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 5,144
*) Day #241
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #26
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #4
without stress: I love it.
*) No, I
don’t believe that sexual predators have any right to meander or socialize
amongst the public hence sexual predators are committed to hospitals or
correctional facilities then sexual predators must stay there for the term of
their duration.
My favorite shop happens to be in Moose Lake, however,
please, not for one single moment think that I’ll personally put up with sexual
predators when I already deal with enough harassment from “average” citizens.
(Absolutely not.)
*) What
about elections 2014?
*) What
about November 2014?
*) No, I’m
not personally afraid or scared about November 2014’s elections because I
believe that the American public is motivated to get out and vote and kick this
warped system into full throttle. Yes!
Monday, October 20, 2014
Charity:
Note.
The Judaic admonition to be righteous, compassionate and, above
all,
help one’s fellow man is called tsedakah---“righteousness.”
This is the closest word for “charity” in
Hebrew or Yiddish; for Jews never separated charity from duty---that is,
from moral and religious obligation. Deuteronomy
(15:11) says, “For the poor shall never cease out of the land; therefore I
command thee, saying, thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother…”
Jews are forbidden to turn away anyone
who asks for help. The poor and needy must, moreover, be spared embarrassment.
Every Jewish community contained a hostel attached to the synagogue, for
travelers or itinerants. Jews place great stress on helping the poor, the sick,
the handicapped---and refugees, who have always been a part of the history of
Jews.
Every community had a special fund
for the needy; every holiday includes philanthropic activities; every home once
contained little boxes into which coins for various charities were dropped.
Every Jewish child was taught early in life to feel a duty to help those who
needed help. Orphans were supported by communal funds. Fatherless or poor girls
received a wedding gown, trousseau, and dowry from the community. The penniless
received free burial. And even paupers were obligated to contribute nominal
sums to the community fund.
All these obligations, incidentally,
were superseded by the duty to ransom Jewish captives or slaves. A moving
account of this side of the Jewish experience was written by Cecil Roth in the
chapter, “A community of Slaves,” in Personalities and Events in Jewish
History.
Maimonides analyzed and rated the
different forms of tsedakah. The
highest form, he said, is to help someone to help himself; after that, to help a
man anonymously and secretly---so that the benefactor does not know whom he
helps, and the benefactee does not know (so cannot feel obligated to) the one
who helped him. I have never heard an improvement upon this.
---I.R.
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Perspicacity (keen judgment, ability to see through)
He is noted for his perspicacity in analyzing a
problem.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 23
A gentleman is distinguished as much by his
composure as by any other quality. His exertions are always subdued, and his
effort easy. He is never surprised into an exclamation or startled anything.
Throughout life he avoids what the French call scenes,---occasions of exhibition, in which the vulgar delight. He
of course has feelings, but he never exhibits any to the world.
--- --- ---
Hello.
Love
What
about Love?
What’s
there to write about the topic of L-O-V-E?
Our
boundless married love for each other as husband and wife is immense and
protective and beautiful and honest and helpful and caring and loving and
physical and intelligent and productive and, and, and…
Early on
(October 2006, our first date) I ‘fell head over heels in love’ with Eric’s
smell and intelligence and smarts, however.
No, I didn’t fall in love with Eric’s temper just as Eric didn’t fall in love with
mine either.
Eric’s got ‘a wicked little temper’ that can also get the better of him, however Eric does indeed control
his anger on a regular and daily basis. Eric’s good about that because Eric’s a
mature adult and so am I.
No, we
don’t go around screaming at each other in public much less try to argue out in
the open. We’re private individuals.
We do our arguing inside our home with all of the doors
and windows closed if we can help it which we do except for once in eight years
which happened to be two years ago (September 2012) we argued with the windows
wide open only because I didn’t know that they were open.
Ultimately,
the trouble in our marriage is that we’re both equally stubborn about anything
at all that we might set our minds to.
We’re the type of married couple that’s stubborn with
each other and stubbornness gets old quickly because then we fight about the
same two or three things for eight (October 2006-September 2014) straight years
without any change until about six weeks ago when I ‘threw in the towel’ and
conceded to give into Eric a lot, however.
There’s a timeline for change and that happens to be the
next seven years (2021) otherwise our marriage is hopeless and we must not stay
married to each other and aggravate the living hell out of one another because
we’d be better off alone or with other more sensible partners who understand us
and complement each other in temperament and get along with us much better than
this and who’ll be kinder to us than we’ve been to each other in the first five
years of our official marriage (April 16, 2009-2014).
We’re
mules that refuse to do anything if we don’t want to and the more we tell each
other, “no,” then the less we mean to budge or concede.
As a married couple we ‘dig in our heels’ and neither one
of us wins that which either one of
us ultimately wants in the end and that creates yet another cycle of misuse of
married power and stalemate because for eight straight years we’ve continually
been in one large perpetual frozen cycle of stubborn nature creating more and
more friction between each other and sometimes the only way to balance that out
is to go completely ice cold so that we don’t set the forest on fire. (Any
couple can understand that sentiment.)
“No.” is
all that Eric (must have) heard when I asked him to help out with food
preparation and handling and cooking on that November 2007 night.
‘Eric spat the dummy’: Right there and then, Eric had a
‘hissy fit’ and the worst part about it is that I let Eric get away with Eric’s
hissy fit because Eric was ever so absurd as to give me such an ultimatum such
as either we only order-in or dine-out for the rest of eternity or I do all the
cooking without any help from Eric. (What.)
(Absolutely not.
My wrists ‘kill me’ on a
weekly basis.
Finally, yes, we’re conducting research about
dishwashers. We have no clue what to purchase.
Personally, I’d prefer a “silent” dishwasher if there’s
such advanced technology out on the consumer market.
Yes, I caved into Eric.
We’ll purchase a dishwasher in 2015.
We haven’t had a dishwasher our entire time living
together and hopefully that will bring more leisure and relaxation time to our
marriage within the next seven years.
No, it’s
not that I’m ungrateful, it’s just that I don’t want to listen to another
machine make noise.
Silent domestic robotics need to be introduced into homes
because couples still slave away at the domesticity of lifestyle while they
work hard every day while at their jobs or career.
Why haven’t commercial and domestic (peaceful,
functioning) robotics been introduced into consumer market for home purchase?
In other words: why don’t consumers have an option to purchase
articulate peaceful domestic robotics that can and will make intricate healthy
foods and dinner for families across the globe?
No scientific expectations, right? Right.)
Eric
knows perfectly well that the most sacred aspect to my lifestyle is the
preparation and making of food still yet (in our marriage) I don’t want to do
all of the cooking for the rest of our life together without a break because
then I might as well be single and live alone and order out Chinese without
getting too fat on the stuff.
“No.” Is
all that Eric (must have) heard when I directly expressed to Eric that I
refused to gain any more weight than I already had put on “the” pounds by that
November 2007.
Yes, in one year (2006-2007) I gained fifty (50) pounds
due to high levels of stress hormone, cortisol. I barely breathed in my own
skin yet Eric was more stubborn than ever not to help out with food preparation
or cooking.
“No.” Is
all that Eric (must have) heard when I directly expressed to Eric that I wished
to have a tremendously healthy nutritional intake because the rest of our lives
are busy.
“No.” Is
all that Eric (must have) heard when I directly expressed to Eric that I’d like
to see Eric’s family three times per year in the same manner in which we visit
my family three times per year.
“No.” Is
all that Eric (must have) heard when I directly expressed to Eric to please
learn to dance with me.
“No.” Is
all that Eric (must have) heard when I directly expressed to Eric to please not
move to this neighborhood because I explicitly did say, “no.”
“No.” Is
all that Eric (must have) heard when I directly expressed to Eric to please not
move into our former flat (apartment)
when we first dated because I explicitly did say, “no.”
The more
Eric hears “no” (from me) then the more stubborn he becomes and vice versa.
*****
Yes,
Eric says that I’ve been fighting him about the same five things for the past
eight years, then why is it that nothing much changed until six weeks ago when
I decided I’d had enough of the bullshit?
If for
eight straight years in a row I’d hear my partner make the same complaints then
after the third complaint I would’ve said; “Okay, let’s sit down and talk about
how we can create change so that you’re not so irritable and don’t become
further angry and more hostile and explode with anger at my indifference
towards your complaints and need for lifestyle changes.”
Eric’s refused to make any changes in any possible way
for eight straight years about some of the most vital and important aspects in
quality of life and being that Eric has hypertension and high cholesterol then
one would think that Eric would want to eat like a King.
However, Eric’s not interested in healthy foods so we eat
out seven days per week while our waistlines stagnate or lose or gain weight
throughout the years because we’re not in any agreement nor are we disciplined
enough (as a couple) to eat consistently well unless I do all of the cooking
which I do for our two main meals of the day which are breakfast and dinner
(2007-2014).
Eric
also knows that every time that I’ve ever seen any medical practitioners over
the course of one complete decade that doctors openly call me “obese” and it
stings because I don’t think of myself as an obese cow yet there it is; my
doctors say so to my face.
My psyche’s taken a toll of being called “obese” by
doctors.
Now that I’ve dropped fifteen (15) pounds since (March
2014) I don’t want to gain those pounds back because I still have twelve (12)
pounds more to go to meet my doctor’s
goals, (which her goals ought to have been met March 2014, I’m pushing that
goal into March 2015 because I didn’t meet it this (2014) year) then she’ll
consider me as “average” weight at one hundred and thirty seven (137) pounds
and most likely I won’t run a high risk for diabetes.
If I
hadn’t lost fifteen pounds by August 2014 then possibly my main medical
practitioner hadn’t caught the cysts in my thyroid with her bare hands because
last fall 2013 I was too heavy “obese” for her to feel any lumps.
Now that I don’t weigh one hundred and sixty four (164)
pounds as I did last September 2013-December 2013, I’m able to be operated on
for thyroid cysts and end my fifteen (15) year streak of sore throats thus good
food makes for good health and good medical treatment.
If I
were twenty-seven years of age once again and if I were to do my life over
(which the Gods willing that I don’t) then I would chose a partner who’s into
super healthy nutritional foods and a healthy lifestyle who gets a real ‘kick
out’ of new scientific research on food evolution and X,Y, and Z.
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a healthier partner because “if you don’t have your health then
you don’t have anything.” (Although, I can’t talk.)
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a healthier partner who cared to and wanted to talk about food
nutrition with me and shared a life in that sense.
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a less stubborn partner than myself.
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a partner who didn’t allow for me go on and on like an idiot or
a “Shrieking Harpy” about food nutrition or any other important matter (for
that matter) only because I needed to be heard for once and for all as to how important nutritional food is to me
because...
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a partner in which both of our needs are important and met.
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a partner about thirty five (35) pounds lighter.
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a partner who knew all about cooking.
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a partner who didn’t go deaf to their partner’s cries.
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a man who spoke more because entertaining one’s partner is
difficult work when one does it all alone. (Awkward.)
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a more athletic partner.
Yes, I
would’ve chosen a more social partner who likes to dance.
Yes, I
would’ve married someone who hadn’t been married before like I was at that
time.
Oh,
well.
*****
For eight
straight years Eric’s known perfectly well that I don’t like to eat in front of
the television.
For eight straight years we’ve eaten almost every single
meal in front of the television. (Yuck.)
It’s no big deal to eat while one watches television if
that’s what one desires to do with their time or life however when one doesn’t
desire to eat in front of the television then ‘T.V. tray’ served home cooked
meals leaves much to be desired or something cold and stale upon one’s mouth.
For
whatever reason it’s been most difficult to bring about peace and harmony and
balance and agreement when it comes to compromising on doing the simplest
facets of our lives with mindfulness.
Eric
tells me that he hated to hear me shriek like a “Shrieking Harpy” for the past
eight years about food and cooking or about eating in front of the television
yet Eric lent no solution to our basic fundamental lifestyle problem which we
don’t even share the same definition as to what our problems are exactly,
anyway.
The more Eric tells me how much he hated to hear me
shriek like a “Shrieking Harpy” then the more I resent him for making final
decisions about our life together (such as, we either eat out all the time or I
do all of the cooking by myself) yet shutting me out for eight straight years.
That type of stubbornness will make anyone bored to death.
And I’ve told Eric that I hated that he “allowed” or
“let” for me to shriek like a “Shrieking Harpy” because I do feel that the only
real damage that Eric’s done to me is to teach me the most difficult lesson of
my life which is: indifference; which equates to carelessness,
unresponsiveness, apathy, lack of sympathy, lack of interest, lack of concern,
unconcern and coldness.
Eric isn’t cruel. No.
Yes, Eric happens to be one cold man who needs to thaw
out about his general stubbornness or ideals on health and wellness and put his
heart into good nutrition so that he may live a long and healthy life.
In other
words; Eric can be one cold mean motherfucker about nutrition.
And so
can I however.
For the
past four weeks…
Every
time that I’ve gotten angry or mad or upset with Eric then all I can do to
protect my heart is to go to another
part of the house and quietly shut the door behind me and shut out Eric because
there’s no use in screaming my lungs out to be listened to when Eric doesn’t
even want to hear anything I’ve got to say in the first place so Eric chose
(pass tense) to live with my screams, however.
Finally
and nevertheless, I refuse to live with the screaming sound of my voice
forevermore nor with Eric the way that he’s been acting for eight straight
years.
Yes,
I’ve informed Eric that ‘the ball’s in his court’ so play.
Yes, I
resent Eric for teaching me a tough lesson that I didn’t need to learn through
marriage.
The
lesson Eric’s taught me is a lesson that one learns when they’ve had enough
time to date the wrong person and realize the grave mistake that both parties
have made in getting involved with each other in the first place before they
commit to marriage and a lifelong commitment not to ‘kill each other’ yet till death do us part.
Yes, I
resent Eric because I can and will prove to Eric that I’m no “Shrieking Harpy.”
Eric married a stellar and sensual and intelligent and
calm, cool and collected individual yet Eric brings out the worst in me and
that’s almost unforgivable to do that to anybody and that’s why Eric had no
business marrying me in the first place because Eric hasn’t made me happy
rather Eric’s made me miserable for eight straight years and Eric knows that to
be the truth that he did that to us because he refused to budge even though I
emphasized to Eric how important all of these main lifestyle components are to
me.
Whether Eric changes or not (within the next seven years)
is up to Eric.
What’s unfair is that once I prove that I’m no “Shrieking
Harpy” then Eric gets a lovely bride out of the whole entire ordeal and I get
stuck with the same stubborn man that I married.
Yes,
I’ve stopped screaming and began shutting doors (four weeks ago). (Lovely.)
No, Eric
hasn’t begun to cook nor did Eric cook this weekend even though Eric promised
last week that Eric would cook yet Eric didn’t. (Back to square one.)
It’s not fair that Eric’s ever so stubbornly boring and that’s
why Eric no longer holds my heart because I gave Eric everything that I had and
he pretty much ignored it by quietly fighting me on the things that mean the
most to me which are pretty much basic fundamentals to health and wellness.
In the year 2021, if Eric hasn’t learned to cook and pull his weight around the kitchen then
Eric will eat Eric’s “T.V. Tray Meals” in front of the television all by
himself while I get back to life.
Eric
promises to go out someplace yet it doesn’t ever happen.
It’s not
because of money.
We’re
well off Americans.
It’s
because Americans are rude to be out with in public.
Eric’s
right.
My fingers are crossed that by the end of the year 2015
we’ll get to a museum or orchestra or ballet or opera (my favorite) not so much
for Eric’s sake, more so for mine because television doesn’t hold my interest
for long.
What I
found out too late is that I’m ever so more mature and modern than Eric and
that does sting because now we’re married and I can’t get out of the
relationship as easily as if we were still dating.
Once I stopped screaming, I learned more about Eric than
about myself. I do have things figured out for myself even though Eric doesn’t
a lot of the time especially when it comes to health and wellness.
Eric
shan’t ever get the better of me for as long as we live or I might come to hate
Eric and we can’t afford anymore lost time.
No, this
isn’t self destruction.
Yes, I’m
finally awake to my life.
Yes, I
finally realized how little my opinion matters in our marriage and that stings
and burns to the point that I want to punch Eric square in the face (hyperbole)
for being so unjust to us. (I control myself each day because I’m a pacifist.)
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,500
Word Count: 2,973
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 2,973
*) Day #240
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #25
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #4
without stress: I love it.
Friday, October 17, 2014
“Though
a castle totter,
it
is still called a castle;
should
a dunghill be built to the sky,
it
is still a dunghill.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Paroxysm
(fit, a convulsion)
As he began to speak he was afflicted with a paroxysm
of coughing.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 22-23
A
gentleman never is embarrassed, when, in the careless of conversation, he has
made use of any expression which is capable of an indecent signification, and
which, in vulgar society, should be the prelude of a laugh. He gives his
company credit for refinement of mind and entire purity of association, and
permits himself to speak with freedom of those things which are commonly the
accessories of evil, without feeling any apprehension that the idea of the evil
itself may be excited.
In
whatever society, or in whatever part of the world, a gentleman may happen to
be, he always complies externally with the spirit and usages of the place.
His
constant effort is never to wound the feelings of another, and he is well aware
that prejudice can excite feeling quite as strongly as truth. Of course, this
compliance is not to be made at the expense of honor and integrity.
--- --- ---
Today’s Date: Friday, October 17, 2014:
8:47 P.M.
Artistic Literary Notes:
Eric
doesn’t read this Nonfiction literary blog. (Fact.)
Yes, Eric
holds all confidence that I’ll do well by Eric no matter what and vice versa.
We love
each other very much.
No, Eric
doesn’t have any reason to be “ashamed of” or “embarrassed” by anything that I
might think and write and do and express in any creative medium in any
articulate and logical and factual logistical artistic manner. Thank you.
(I work hard to translate and edit for your reading
pleasure.)
Of
course, I’ve explained to Eric that if I did cause any offense to his person or
character at anytime in anything that I might ‘openly’ (private company
website) personally write about Eric then it’s only to drive home a difficult
moral lesson about intimate friendship in a romance between a man and a woman
together in a framework such as in the structure of marriage as an American
institution to be upheld by law. Cheers.
Eric’s
closest friends and family members know exactly how Eric is in person and
that’s a beautiful thing to watch Eric’s hands move when Eric speaks because
Eric’s ever so graceful in that boyish manner of his.
Of
course, we love each other and are physical towards each other because we’re
madly in love, however, sometimes we don’t get along very well and then we fight...
We only really and truly
fight when we say terrible mean
things to each other. I’d like to uphold a better friendship with Eric through
peaceful language rather than passive aggressive or destructive language
because I love that words have more to show an extended panoramic view than
anyone could ever say about how anyone ever truly feels about anything at all.
I don’t know about how other people think except what I do know to be
scientifically and factually true by means of personal research of twenty-five
years collected material about an
entire study of the cerebrum as two separate hemispheric “wholes” (not ‘holes’)
as one cranium.
(That did translate. I could skip straight to poetry. I
could bypass this blog and novel writing and go straight to poetic justice,
however. One must learn and sustain patience throughout one’s lifetime.)
In other
words; I’d like to think that my humble human writings don’t ever offend only
portray some of the more seriously difficult adult life content because that’s
more common than not.
Television
isn’t real. (Representation of Imagination.)
Writing
isn’t real. (Representation of Imagination.)
Painting
isn’t real. (Representation of Imagination.)
Sculpture
isn’t real. (Representation of Imagination.)
‘Play-dress-up’
isn’t real. (Representation of Imagination.)
Rap isn’t
real. (Representation of Imagination.)
Hip hop
isn’t real. (Representation of Imagination.)
Watercolor
isn’t real. (Representation of Imagination.)
Wood
carving isn’t real. (Representation of Imagination.)
Poetry
isn’t real. (Representation of Imagination.)
Creations
aren’t real, much less literary creations because ‘time stops still for no
man’.
In other
words; when I return to sit down to write a continued literary piece or written
chapter then a million other aspects of life progress forward in ‘real time’
while words tend to freeze like frozen icicles along rooflines stuck frozen in
winter time.
How odd for words to get stuck to ‘negative space’
(design terminology) or time or on some piece of paper or cyberspace like space
garbage.
Please,
don’t ever believe “anything” that’s written about “everything” there’s to
write about. Not “everything’s” true or false. There’s much “gray matter”
(thanks).
We love
each other very much because we’re human and we’re not murderers or thieves or
liars or creeps or psycho killers much less anything other than working private
citizens because we take adulthood responsibly as something real as it comes at
us.
‘We do
the best that we can with what we’ve got.’
*) If this
literary content is too ‘dark’ for some to face then please don’t read because
Nonfiction Writing isn’t real life either;
per se; ‘real life’ clips along at a
rapid pace while writing is black frozen words stuck on white paper for
eternity and ‘real time’ is action and energy combined to form instantaneous
line, shape, curvature, harmony, balance or ambiance or mood or tone or, or,
or... (Wow.)
*) Yes,
these are direct Author’s Notes to any reader that might be or suddenly becomes
frightened of this professional literary medium of expression because this
‘scribing’ sure is a wild ride through ‘Space Mountain’.
This is indeed a literary roller coaster.
No doubt about it so long as literal life’s calm then the
produced art can be heated with passion or not.
*) The
ultimate lesson is to learn to embody hope because writers do make sense out of
threads of thought.
*) May the
Gods grant any writer what the Gods promised any thinking human; the freedom to
express freely through spoken voice or written word or any other articulate medium.
*) The
attorneys (as in plural) tell us that
I may openly write about anything so long as it’s factual with the intent to
teach even the most difficult lessons no matter how difficult or uncomfortable
some words might be to read in the pursuit of knowledge. (Okay.)
*) “Write
whatever the hell you want,” say media experts in our industry. (Okay.)
*)
Yes, I’m
a terrible grammatical writer.
Where do
commas, go?
Who
knows?
No,
somehow I can’t ever remember that rule.
*) Eric’s a
great great great great great man.
Eric’s a
great man.
*) Literary
Writers aren’t journalists or reporters or this
or that therefore Literary Writers uphold to the rules established by
“creative license”.
The ultimate dream of any genre writer is to record as much
truth as freedom permits without breaking the natural laws of gravity.
Shall we
move on?
This
Tango got stale.
Goodnight,
America.
Goodnight,
World.
Peace.
Love.
Cheers!
Gabriel
---------------------
Hello.
How about those elections 2014?
See
you on Monday.
Relax.
Storytelling
is storytelling.
*****
********************
As of
eleven-thirty this morning Eric made a short and direct apology with the
following, “My deepest apologies that I ever said that I held a low opinion of you because I don’t hold a low opinion of
you. I hold a high opinion of you. I misspoke in anger.” (Okay.) Fair enough.
Yes, I
also hold Eric with high regards otherwise I wouldn’t have married Eric.
We
promised each other, that we’d have enough courage to tell each other, if we don’t think highly of each other
then we’ll end our marriage as soon as we admit it and move on. (Agreed.)
Apology
accepted.
We
smiled at each other and hugged goodbye for the workday.
We moved
on with our day.
Why wouldn’t
I accept Eric’s apology?
Of
course, I do.
Anytime
that Eric makes any direct apology face-to-face then I accept it (without
hesitation) because it’s another chance to begin anew in our peaceful
friendship.
Then we
commence to touch once more because the reason why we’re married is because we
like each other’s smell.
Yes,
Eric’s smell is the same as a honeycomb, however.
Not
diabetes sickly sick aroma.
What
keeps us together?
Love.
My Love.
His
Love.
Our
Love.
Eric has
seven years to learn how to cook.
Goodnight Moon;
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000 personal journals
Word Count: 2,000 personal journals (1,254 // blog)
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 12,161
*) Day #237
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #22
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #3
without stress: I love it.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
“Said
the cat:
“If
I had eyes of silver and ears of gold,
I
still would not stop stealing.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Propitious
(favorable, of good omen, advantageous)
The sign in the sky was taken as a propitious
omen.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 22
It
is an express and admirable distinction of a gentleman, that, in the ordinary
affairs of life, he is extremely slow to take offense. He scorns to attribute
ungentle motive, and dismisses the provocation without dignifying it by
consideration. For instance, if he should see trifling persons laughing in
another part of a room, when he might
suppose that they were sneering at him, or should hear a remark from a person
careless of his speech, which he could
construe to be disrespectful to himself, he will presume that they are swayed
by the same exalted sentiments as those which dwell within his own bosom, and
he will not for a moment suffer his serenity to be sullied by suspicion. If, in
fact, the others have been not altogether unwilling to wound, his elevated
bearing will shame them into propriety.
--- --- ---
Hello.
*********************
Yes, Not Ever did I want
Children
Until the Age of Forty, if ever
Part III
No, we’re
not getting a divorce, unless.
No, it’s not like that.
Yes, we
love each other very much.
Yes, we
do.
Yes, I
do.
Yes,
Eric’s granted me permission to openly write about our marriage.
No, I
shan’t ‘speak’ about our marriage
other than to my Father or while I attend
once a week mature non-sexually explicit adult conduct, and Minnesota board
licensed certified psychological talk-therapy sessions with a professional in
their field.
Yes, I’m
writing about our marriage, so read up and learn a positive lesson or ‘go
home’.
*****
No,
there’s no melodrama here.
No,
there’s no panic here.
Yes, I
know what “melodrama” and “panic” are.
Yes,
this is cold frozen icicle.
No, I
haven’t turned into an icicle.
No, I
don’t twitch.
No, I haven’t
been “volatile” in three straight weeks thus that proves that I’m smarter than I ever gave myself credit for.
No, this
writing isn’t for protection.
Yes, if
and when I require protection then I’ll summon an attorney or a divorce court
lawyer.
Yes,
this writing is a lesson into the terrain of a human heart.
Yes, I’m
perfectly still and calm.
How
about you?
Are you
perfectly still and calm?
Yes, I
can get my English turned around or jumbled.
Yes,
since I can and will admit anything directly to Eric and my Father and an
accredited talk-therapist psychologist when I consistently and truthfully share
the same story then I can and will write about our marriage in front of one
million plus readers and hopefully have them learn one good positive lesson
from negative experiences. (One must
understand that pressing point.)
***********************
Yes, Eric would like for me to make one
major correction; Eric not once under any “evil intent” did act and neither
did I nor do we now. Correct.
::: Only due
to “ignorance” are (present tense) we
to act and continue to do so whenever. (What can one say? Humans are dumb animals, sometimes.)
********************
Yes, it’s my fault and only my fault that
within the recent seven years I’ve conducted myself like a “Shrieking Harpy”
(according to Eric) only ‘behind
closed doors’ and privately with Eric.
Yes, I
take full responsibility for my misbehavior.
Yes, if
on our wedding day, I’d known then what I learned last night then I wouldn’t
have married Eric because Eric had no business or right to marry me in the
first place because Eric directly admitted to me that ever since November 2007
Eric’s held “a low opinion” of me and that’s why he’s refused to learn to cook
and help out (ouch!).
Yes, I’m
heartbroken that Eric made the wrong decision to marry me since he’s held “a
low opinion” of me all these years.
On Wednesday night, ever since Eric admitted that he’s
held “a low opinion” of me, now, I also hold “a low opinion” of Eric for being
such a coward who didn’t speak up in front of a judge that day that he had a
chance.
Eric’s more wrong than I’ve ever been about our marriage
because Eric allowed for me to get married to him under falsities about how Eric really did feel about me.
Yes, Eric’s
broken my heart because I didn’t know that he was so cruel or shallow, if
that’s indeed the case.
As of right now I can barely stand the sight of Eric.
I almost feel
physically ill when I go near Eric so I have to stay away from Eric as much as
possible because Eric’s smell repulses me right
now!
*****
When
Eric and I discuss our seven year long misbehavior in our marriage Eric happily
calls me a “Shrieking Harpy” and that remark digs and twists an arrow into my heart
almost wounding me ever so deeply I can barely breathe because while I shrieked
to be let in Eric shut a large steel soundproof metal door and allowed for me
to make a perfect fool of myself to the point that even I didn’t like the sound
of my own voice. (Yikes. Run.)
What
makes Eric think that I like to hear myself shriek?
How
wrong Eric’s had me all these eight years (2006-2014).
As of
last night, I told Eric that I could place seven former lovers on a witness
stand and that they would all testify under oath that not once did we ever
scream in all of our years together over the course of one complete decade
independently of each man.
Eric
replied, “I didn’t know that about you.”
“I just
thought that you were like that,” Eric said.
I froze
with the very fear of his misrepresentation of me.
Eric
thinks of me as some screaming fool.
I think
of Eric as…
As of
last night, Eric admitted to me that on that November 2007 night when he
abruptly told me that I’d be doing all of the cooking for the remainder of our
relationship without so much of an option other than to eat out every single
meal or have me cook all the time;
Eric admitted that if Eric had been
in my place then he would’ve given himself a ‘black eye’ and told him to get out. (Yep.)
On that
November night, Eric was ever so utterly rude and disrespectful that he’d so much as had the gumption to
present himself as the “King of Spain” that I could barely breathe hence when
Eric arrogantly exited that kitchen hallway with his back towards me, I froze
near the sink without indication as to what to do next?
‘Where
would I go?’ Seemed to be my greatest challenge.
We stay
together (present tense) throughout
the years because we make every challenge workout somehow no matter how bad it gets and that’s a great quality in any
team. (We’re American and married.)
One
month before Eric and I ever met, I
was ready to either make a home in Cambridge; (until I could either be accepted
and attend Harvard sometime in my lifetime
otherwise continue with my creative work as I grew older with each passing day)
Boston or Costa Rica to have ‘surfing babies’ near oceanic mountain jungles.
(Yes, I ought to
have gone home to Costa Rica because even if I were to be found face down in
a gutter I wouldn’t beg, to my New England relatives for a single red scent,
however I might ask for a clean glass of water and continue on my merry way
because abusive is abusive.)
On
Eric’s behalf, as of last night Eric admitted that on that November 2007 night
that he was extremely stressed out. (Okay.) Fair enough.
Nevertheless, Eric continued to uphold to his ultimatum
until about three weeks ago about food preparation and consumption.
For the fourth time in an eight year span, Eric will
finally make his fourth crock pot dish this weekend October 2014.
To my
surprise, Eric mowed the lawn this morning.
Yes, I
almost fell over.
Lovely.
That’s
progress.
That’s
positive change.
Yes, as
of last night, Eric also admitted that at that time (November 2007) Eric didn’t
hold “a high opinion of me”. (What.)
Eric knew that Eric hadn’t
held “a high opinion” of me ever since then as early as all that November 2007.
(Wow.)
A second
arrow struck so deeply to discover the truth about myself from Eric’s
perspective that I could lain down and gone silent forever, however, I’ve got a
list of a million things to get through today.
The mistake that Eric made was that Eric refused to bring
up the fact that Eric did misspeak on that dark and windy November night 2007
when Eric directly told me that from that moment forth he’d not cook for as long as we’re together. (Okay.)
The mistake that Eric made was that Eric refused to bring
up the fact that Eric did make a grave mistake with me so many years ago
(November 2007) yet Eric kept his silence and allowed for me to grow more and
more angry with him because he refused to take any responsibility for half of
the cooking without having to eat high calorie or high fat content foods. (It’s
nearly impossible to eat healthy when one eats out.)
Eric’s held a low opinion of me for seven
years.
Eric’s held a low
enough opinion of me to punish me by shutting me out and allowing for me to
become a “Shrieking Harpy” only while in private with Eric because Eric would
rather hear me scream then get his lazy
body up and off of the couch and learn to cook. (As a metaphor.)
Eric’s held such “a low opinion” of me for seven straight
years that he’s not honored me by allowing ‘peace of mind’.
Where an arrow struck ever so deeply is that I was
foolish enough to scream and yell and shriek in hopes that Eric would find it
ever so compelling to help me out in the kitchen yet he continually refused and
for seven years Eric hasn’t minded that I’ve been made the fool.
(Thank goodness that I’m a pacifist and don’t believe in
any violence of any type because I could almost slap Eric sharply across the
mouth and draw blood because for seven years Eric’s been playing a dangerous
game with my heart and last night broke my heart only to discover that for
seven straight years Eric’s held “a low opinion” of me by not honoring to help
me out as a domestic partner in the kitchen or with cleanup until three weeks
ago.
Oh, my God. One could almost turn their spouse over and
spank them once ever so hard that they’d choke on their breath and saliva.
This morning I did everything I could from walking into a
downtown courthouse and filing a divorce.
The only reason why I didn’t file a divorce this morning
is because last night Eric had the courage to finally ask me what I needed and
wanted from him.
What a saving grace for Eric to have mustered enough
courage to speak to me like a mature adult man rather than act like a child otherwise
I’m afraid Eric would’ve had to…
Can one imagine spending seven years of one’s adult life
being shut out by one’s partner because one’s partner holds “a low opinion” of
the other.
Yes, I would’ve been better off on my own.
Eric ought to have left me alone seven years ago and he
knows that perfectly well.
Eric knows that
he ought to have left me alone because he didn’t respect me enough to consider
me as his equal.
What a disgrace.)
The terms are simple: Eric must mature
by leaps and bounds within the next seven years and learn to cook and we’ll only visit my in-laws three times per
year as we do visit with my family three times per year as well.
No, I
don’t want Eric to tell me every single little detail about what Eric’s going
to clean every time that Eric cleans something because I don’t have any gold
stickers for Eric. Get it done. (No,
I’m not a second grade teacher.)
Yes, I
literally and completely stopped shrieking as of three weeks ago therefore that
implies and factually and evidently portrays and shows that I’ve got a much
stronger character than Eric ever gave it credit for.
Yes,
I’ve informed Eric that for as long as we’re together that he’ll not once get
the better of me ever again and that I shan’t ever scream or yell or shriek for
the duration of our relationship unless anybody’s in direct imminent danger of
possibly getting struck by a bus or lightening.
Yes,
Eric won.
Eric got his way, however, Eric no longer holds my heart.
Eric gets a quiet wife, however Eric may not ever forget
that he’s no saint himself and that he, too, was equally as disrespectful as I
was if not more, only because he lead me on and lied to me.
Yes,
Eric won.
Eric gets a quiet wife, however Eric must first
acknowledge how cushy that must be for
him to get a wife whose ten times more sophisticated and calm and cool and
collected and put together than Eric is when I do and will control my temper
yet it’s not an equal barter or trade between us because Eric closes himself
off from me and shuts doors. (I shan’t knock anymore because I don’t have an
interest nor do I care.)
The reason as to why I’m so intrinsically angry with Eric
is because Eric isn’t any… yet I ended up with Eric only to discover that
Eric’s not even worthy of his worth because he omitted the truth about how Eric
really felt about me and still does.
(What a…)
Eric may shut doors forevermore, however, as of last
night it was made quite evidently clear that I’m the better person because not once
did I ever lead Eric to believe that neither did I hold “a low opinion” of Eric
yet continually used him as he did me for his “services” because I’m not like
that and he knows that.
An arrow
sticks straight out of my chest cavity because not once did I ever think that a
man who held “a low opinion” of me would so much as marry me. (How desperate of
Eric to do that to me.)
How
terrible.
How
awful.
How
destructive.
Yes, I’m
at a loss for words.
No, I
don’t have anything to say in my defense.
The
evidence speaks for itself.
The
arrow struck ever so deeply, that, what’s there to be said.
Nothing.
Forget a
wound.
I’m
still breaking off this arrow that struck me last night.
Yes, I
feel like such a fool.
Yes, I
feel so dumb today.
Yes, as
of last night, it got admitted between us that I hold more worth and power in
the relationship than Eric does or possibly ever will because like an idiot I
believed that our relationship was an equal opportunity relationship only to
discover that I’ve been used the entire time all the while Eric didn’t even so
much as hold “a high opinion” of me.
No, I
couldn’t stand hearing myself harp around Eric because there was something
about Eric’s withdrawn disposition that drove me ever so unsettled around Eric
and last night I discovered what it was when Eric admitted that he’s held “a
low opinion” of me for about seven years. (Oh, my. I could almost become violent.)
No, it
isn’t that Eric’s held “a low opinion” of me throughout a seven year ‘domestic’
married struggle that ‘bugs me,’ no, it’s
not that. (It’s just that, I’d like my life back before I ever met Eric.
What a complete waste of my time
taking care of someone who doesn’t respect me.)
No, no,
don’t have any pity.
These
things happen.
Power
dynamics sure are difficult and complex.
No,
we’re not getting a divorce.
What
keeps us together?
My love,
for sure.
His kindness, I guess.
*****
Yes, I
forgive Eric.
Yes,
Eric forgives me.
(Give me
a week to gather myself because I’ve gone ice cold.)
No, I
don’t know what else to say.
Nothing,
I guess.
Yes, of
course I feel betrayed because I feel ever so silly about the whole ordeal. No
harm done, only much wasted time.
(The thing is that I didn’t have to contractually get married
by law to learn that tough lesson about myself.)
Yes, I
would’ve made different decisions if only I’d known how Eric truly felt about
me at that time then I would’ve broken up with Eric and immediately left town.
That’s
for sure.
Moving
forward.
Moving
on.
*****
Children?
No, I’m
not sure.
Yes, I
feel at a loss for words today.
Yes, I
feel stunned.
No, no
melodramatics.
No, I’m
not an actress.
Yes, I’m
a private citizen.
My goal
is to quit smoking cigarettes for one complete straight year and then figure
out if we’re to get pregnant or wait until the day I turn forty (May 2017) and
get pregnant then, if that’s possible at that time.
My other
goal is to mostly quit sugar consumption and completely quit tobacco and minimize
stress and control my emotions for the next year (September 2014-September
2015) to prove that I can and will because then I can and will keep calm for
life.
My other
goal is to think positively no matter what happens.
My other
goal is to keep myself from emotionally wounding Eric ever so severely that he
shan’t recover from my blow…
*****
The
reason as to why I now hold more power in our marriage is only because I can
and will prove that my character is a straight shooter and calm, cool and
collected and honorable without shrieking for the next year nevertheless Eric’s
character isn’t exactly… (I guess
that’s okay because Eric’s only human and imperfect.)
No,
under no circumstance will I ‘go and jump into bed’ with anyone (stranger or other)
other than my present and immediate husband which happens to be Eric.
Yes, if
I’m ever found in bed with a man other than my husband then allow me the honor
to ‘slice his ears off.’ (No, don’t worry I abide by American laws, as always.)
Yes, the
thought of going to bed with another man repulses me.
Yes, I’m
repulsed by the thought of having sex with anyone other than Eric.
Yes, I’m
loyal to Eric.
No, Eric
doesn’t hold my heart as of last night.
Yes, I’m
dedicated to Eric and will continue to be.
Yes, I
have a lot of decisions to make…
I don’t
know.
I don’t
know.
I don’t
know.
Does one
spouse stay with another spouse ‘until death do us part’ even though one spouse
admits that for seven years they don’t hold “a high opinion” of their partner
(still yet married them anyway) thus they refuse to help out their struggling
partner with one major aspect and
other minor aspects of a domestic lifestyle together?
What
does one spouse do when one’s partner holds “a low opinion” of the other
partner, yet the one partner slaved away for the other?
Yes,
people stay together for all sorts of terrible reasons because of much worse
things than what’s happened in our marriage, however.
Not once have I ever heard of any partner staying with
another partner because one partner held “a low opinion” of the other partner
because that means disrespect and
since I’ve been involved in a power struggle for seven straight years then I’m
turned off to the idea of any further disrespect yet I also believe in second
chances to prove that one can come through for the other otherwise it’s no
good.
There
wouldn’t be any point in staying together with continual disrespect, would
there be?
The
reason why there’s no point in staying together when one partner holds “a low
opinion” of the other partner in continual and perpetual disrespect is because
“the” partner that’s already been taken for granted thinks…
And that’s the very reason why marriage to someone who
doesn’t think highly of their partner doesn’t work because how can the partner
whose been taken for granted believe anything that comes out of the mouth of
the one who holds “a low opinion” of the one who sacrificed the most. (Holy shit. It’s deep stuff.)
Eric’s
got time on his side. (Seven years, exactly.)
Eric’s
got seven years to mature by leaps and bounds.
Eric can
and will learn to cook and prepare food.
Eric
shan’t give away our downtime eighteen times per year.
Yes, I have
full confidence that Eric will prove to make a good husband to someone,
someday, however as of last night, I surpass Eric in character, and I explained
to Eric perfectly well why, and Eric understood.
No, I
wouldn’t fold another man’s underwear.
If I
weren’t married… I’d… run… and hide.
Yes, my
heart’s…
No, I
wouldn’t date another Minnesotan even if someone were to pay me to date them.
(Nope.)
Yes,
I’ve discovered that Minnesotans and Midwesterners aren’t direct and honest
people.
Seriously,
no, I don’t think about or ‘fancy’
anyone else because there’s no one for me other than change or a new start.
Eric’s
my true love, however, I’m not Eric’s true love.
Yes, I’m
just some woman that Eric happened to marry even though Eric didn’t respect me
yet tolerated me and we’ve lived with that type of chaos for eight years.
Don’t
pity us.
We’re
stubborn, although, I wipe my hands clean of it as of today.
Marriage’s
hard work.
Marriage
takes a lot of time and focus and energy to make marriage run smoothly each day
therefore to entertain the thought of another lover is preposterous.
Yes, one
could only wish that one had that much time to daydream about romantic
storylines.
Yes, I’m
so turned off that the last thing I desire is Eric’s touch until he makes a
direct apology.
Eric’s
so right, on that November night 2007, I ought to have given Eric a black eye
and told him to get out of my life forever. If only Eric would’ve been honest
with me then, indeed, I would’ve sent Eric packing.
See you
Monday.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 3,500
Word Count: 3,817
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 10,907
*) Day #236
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #21
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #3
without stress: I love it.
Literary Notes:
No, I
really don’t have much more to write today, however.
My writing goal for today is to write three thousand words
then that’ll be a total of ten thousand (10,000) completed words this week and I can ‘fly’ out of here and take
tomorrow off to do something special like…
(No, I haven’t gone to that public establishment in
almost one complete decade and it’s my favorite thing to do in Minneapolis.
If I make the time then maybe I’ll take myself to any
museum in the Twin Cities. Yes, I do tend to stick to Minneapolis because
parking in downtown, St. Paul is a nightmare, however I like St. Paul museums
as well.)
Yes, I’ve been meaning to get around to purchasing some
perfume oils for myself. The summer came and went and I meant to do that. The
months seem to pass by like a blur.
Yes, I think there’s a new light rail line established
between Minneapolis and St. Paul, isn’t there? Yes.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
“Three
things grow overnight:
profit,
rent and daughters.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Advent
(any coming into being, arrival)
Since the advent of Christianity the position of women
has been elevated.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 22
And
here we might find the uses of etiquette. We are not all equally civilized;
some of us are scarcely more than savage by nature and training, or rather lack
of training. Yet we all wish to put on the regalia of civilization that we may
be recognized as belonging to the guild of ladies and gentlemen in the world.
The
requisites to compose this last character are natural ease of manner, and an
acquaintance with the “outward habit of encounter” ---dignity and
self-possession---a respect for all the decencies of life, and perfect freedom
from all affectation.
--- --- ---
Hello.
*********************
Yes, Not Ever did I want
Children
Until the Age of Forty, if ever
Part II
No,
we’re not getting a divorce, unless.
No, it’s not like that.
Yes, we
love each other very much.
Yes, we
do.
Yes, I
do.
Yes,
Eric’s given me permission to openly write about our marriage.
No, I
shan’t speak about our marriage other than to my father or while I attend mature non-sexually explicit and
certified psychological talk-therapy sessions with a professional in their field.
Yes, I’m
writing about our marriage, so read up and have a good time or ‘go home’.
*****
Yes,
Eric and I love each other very much.
How do
we know that we love each other very much?
We know
that we love each other very much because no matter how angry we might become
with each other, we hold the best intensions for each other.
We don’t go out of way to harm each other even though
tough lessons must be learned.
We play and laugh together each and every single day no
matter what’s gone down.
At the end of each night while in bed we make it a point
to touch arms and we wish each other ‘goodnight’ and the following morning we
also wish each other ‘good morning’ and that’s how we know that we love each
other very much.
My only
hope is that Eric lives to be eighty-eight years of age and still married to
me. I’d like to think that people can make it in their marriages for the long
haul as we committed to our marriage that day that we soberly stood and looked
at one another and thought of no one else other than each other as we said our
serious matrimonial vows in front of a judge.
We knew that we felt deeply for each other’s mental and
physical health and that we loved each other very much while twenty of our closest
people stood witness and loved us on such a splendid occasion.
Our wedding day will always be a memorable one for us
because Eric wore a white Star Wars
‘Trooper’ t-shirt under his suit and all that one could see were the outlined
lines of the design and it looked so cool to me every time that I looked in the
direction of his outlined t-shirt design I felt reassured and safe and happy
and relaxed while in his company and direct proximity.
Yes, I wore an ankle-length turquoise spring dress
because that morning that I woke up my formal wedding dress didn’t fit. No, I
didn’t cry. I was calm and carried on even though I could’ve sat down and had
myself a good cry.
On the
morning of our wedding Eric and I ate breakfast and lounged around. We got
dressed together and left by limo and went to Minneapolis downtown, courthouse.
I wore these amazing high heeled red shoes, however.
After our ceremony, I sprained my ankle running for the
light rail.
From the courthouse we took the light rail to the airport
when we got upgraded to first class and went off to Disney World.
Our honeymoon was the best time of our lives!
From the
moment I sprained my ankle we got upgraded to everything for an entire week
long of our Honeymoon, even though I stopped limping within twenty minutes of
spraining my ankle for some reason we kept getting offered upgrades so we
graciously accepted the upgrades in many rungs of class of service (sweet).
Our Honeymoon was a dream come true for a couple that
works long weeks.
The night
before our matrimonial ceremony at the courthouse Eric helped me find an online
tutorial for floral arrangements.
We learned to wrap my bridal bouquet in ribbon.
Eric held up the a dozen roses while I managed a simple
yet intricate lacing to the stemmed roses.
Seriously, my bridal bouquet came out looking like
something out of a magazine it was ever so gorgeous.
Eric wore a one red rose Boutonniere with “Baby’s Breath” on
it.
When I think about our wedding day it brings a smile to
my face.
Sometimes, we reminisce because our wedding day was
exactly what we needed and wanted and planned for in our lives.
No, we
don’t regret our marriage.
Yes,
what we regret most is that we didn’t know more about each other before we got
married because then we wouldn’t of possibly gotten married, however and
nevertheless, we’re here now and we do the best that we can for each other, each and every single day of our lives
because that’s what mature adults do.
Yes, we
regret that we ever lived in uptown together while trying to get through
serious adult life situations that did in fact happen to us at that time while sharing walls with
less than stellar neighbors.
Sharing walls was pure hell for us both because I lived
under tremendous strenuous amount of abdominal pain while Eric dealt with some
serious heart issues from five straight years of prior stress before we ever
met.
*****
Yes, I
too can be a donkey’s rear end because I, too, can get stubborn only when
continuously provoked.
Yes,
right away (October 2006) when we first began to date, I directly and calmly
and honestly explained to Eric that I wasn’t interested in having any children
until I turned forty years of age or if ever. Eric understood.
Yes, I
did tell Eric that I didn’t want children, however I’d have children if I ever
felt extremely compelled to do so, which I haven’t ever felt extremely
compelled to birth newborns, nevertheless, I’d love to raise children,
especially teens and young adults in their entire decade of their twenties when
adult children seem to need help the most than in any other time of their lives
specifically by their parents. (Yep.)
Yes, of
course, Eric would like children of our own.
No, we
don’t wish to adopt foreign strangers.
Since, we’re
neither young adults, we must figure this children business out sooner than
later, even though, I don’t desire to have any children, I still feel as though
I’m being unfair to Eric for making him wait another three years to make sure
that that’s what I want to do with my life because once one has a child then
life as one knows it is over forevermore.
Yes, I’d
like for us to wait another three years to make sure that we want to raise
children so that we might further
mature together as I continue to deal with some more physical health issues.
No, I
neither hold anything over Eric’s head nor he over mine.
No, it’s
not a ‘power play’ that I don’t want any children, it’s a strong desire.
No,
we’re not afraid to be older parents because Eric’s mother had him when she was
thirty-eight.
Yes, I
think I’d make a good older mother.
Yes, I
think that Eric would make a good older father.
Yes, I
think that we’d make a sexy older adult couple as parents.
There
are some major aspects of our relationship that must first get ironed out
between us.
For
example, one of my major resentments (to this day) that I hold towards Eric is
that years ago Eric allowed for me (in our relationship) to become a “shrieking
harpy” (as Eric tends to call me, such name calling stings every time he calls
me that) only because to his satisfaction (it seems to me) that Eric shut me
out from sharing our domestic responsibilities together and domesticity became
my complete and total responsibility to take care of almost all domestic
responsibilities by myself while ever so “innocently” Eric looked around like:
‘what? She’s the one yelling or screaming? I don’t know.’
Yet he knew perfectly all, too, well that I hurt deeply
because of the wounds he struck to turn me into his fulltime cook without so
much as a marriage proposal at that time.
The last
thing that I ever wanted to do was to become Eric’s personal cook because for
seven years Eric more or less has refused to learn how to cook which is ever so
irritating to say the least since all of the adult mature males in my family do
cook and cook well.
Yes,
seven years later, I’m now tired of that role that Eric stuck me in without
much of an option or choice so the only way that I’ve been able to lessen that
burden is to spend two or four hours of my Sunday afternoons preparing and
putting together and cooking meals for the week ahead of time because that’s
the role that I got placed in even though I can’t totally or completely fully
break it until Eric gets his business in order and learns to cook.
*****
Yes, I’m
resentful towards Eric because I’m not “The Taming of the Shrew.”
No, I’m
not.
Yes, I
might be a wild animal, however.
No, I’m not
“The Taming of the Shrew” because I’m lovely and keep a beautiful home and
don’t ever expect for anybody to carry me on their back other than a horse. Nor
do I expect to be disciplined by a husband as only a Father would discipline a
daughter.
No, I didn’t
marry an older man because I wanted a father figure in my life. I already have
a good father.
Yes, I
married Eric because he is right for me, however.
Eric’s also an imperfect man with poor communication
skills and that ought to drive any woman either crazy or full of passion for a
man who makes up rules and doesn’t expect to participate in them.
Yes, I’m
a lovely woman who happened to be someone that Eric met on the brink of her
prime only to have her get stuck doing all the cooking for her partner because
he decided that since he didn’t know how to cook that it was all her
responsibility.
There’s no quicker way to make another tired or more
exhausted other than to expect them to do an entire domestic life alone while
they, too, hold down a lifelong professional career.
The main
reason why I resent Eric is because he wasn’t and isn’t fully a good friend to
me when it comes to sharing a modern domestic lifestyle.
Another
reason why I’m resentful towards Eric is because he created a monster in me yet
for about seven years refused to take any responsibility for what he created
because Eric’s a master of omitting the truth and that’s one reason why I don’t
quite seem able to forgive Eric in other minor or subtle areas of our marriage
even though eventually I’ll get around to forgiving Eric because I can’t stay
mad at Eric for long or forever.
In many
ways I feel that Eric tricked me into marriage not because of fault
representation more so due to ignorance on both our parts about “opposites attract”
and modern relationships.
I feel totally and completely cheated out of a good
modern domestic relationship because Eric hasn’t always been a good domestic
partner to me when he knows how much I hate to clean or how irritable I can get
to constantly keep up with our entire home while he’s gone or (if Eric’s home)
pretends to hide like a little kid terrified of consequences. (Some of Eric’s
mimicked child behavior makes me want to…because the charm wore away the moment
he ran out of solutions, November 2007.)
Just
because Eric brings home bacon, it doesn’t mean that he fulfills everything in
me because he doesn’t. Eric’s a great lover and husband and overall friend yet
not a very good domestic partner.
If I would’ve known that I’d get stuck doing seven years
hard labor while doing all the cooking then no, absolutely not. I wouldn’t have
married Eric if I’d known then what I do know now about Eric is that Eric’s
just a tidbit unfair when he’s afraid to learn how to do something on his own
and that drives me crazy.
Yes, in
many ways I do feel that Eric took advantage of our situation when we first
met, however I let him because I’m weak.
Yes, the
deepest hurt in our relationship is that Eric let me go on and on shrieking for
seven years straight which that’s brought a great deal of ultimate shame and
embarrassment to my propriety-filled shy character because I’m dainty and
fragile and when I get ever too excited with anger then I feel myself age and I
get ever so exhausted.
Personally, I hate conflict of any type yet if someone
keeps bringing it then I’ll drive it home.
*****
Yes,
Eric learned early on that I’m a pushover and weak especially when I say, “no.”
Others can still break me. I’m working on that character weakness. By leaps and
bounds I’ve matured this fall 2014.
Eric
hates that I’ve yelled or screamed or shrieked all these years yet it wasn’t
until five weeks ago that he finally apologized for the mess he got us into.
It’s Eric’s fault just as much as it is my fault that I couldn’t control my
temper.
Eric’s tremendously made a baboon’s ass out of me and for
that I resent him greatly because I’m the one who sacrificed more than he ever
did to be and stay in this marriage.
Yes, I
married down while Eric married his equal.
No, I
don’t particularly like some of Eric’s crude and rude people who married into
Eric’s family.
No, Eric
doesn’t particularly like some of my crude and rude half of my “scum” family.
Yes, for
the past seven years we’ve been visiting Eric’s family eighteen times per year
while we only visit my family three times per year. It drives me crazy. It
makes me angry that Eric has such little consideration for my needs or wants
which I’ve stated them clearly to him over the past seven years without any
change or consequence.
No, we
don’t keep each other from visiting our relatives.
Eric may
go and visit his family anytime.
No, I
don’t keep Eric from seeing his family nor he, mine.
Nevertheless,
we haven’t had a proper vacation since April 2010. Not because we can’t afford
a vacation because we can, however and more precisely because we had a
miscarriage the last time we vacationed on our one year anniversary.
Before that and ever since we’ve given away all of our
free time to Eric’s family when Eric knows that it’s not the best time for me
because much of Eric’s people either lack tremendous education or manners.
Yes, I
hold extremely high manner however I have minimal expectations because I like
to be pleasantly surprised by people otherwise I do personally hold myself up
to those very high standards which bring happiness to my life otherwise I can’t
possibly speak for anyone else. (Yes, I got tongue tangled.)
No, I’m
not the ‘bucket lady’.
Yes, I’m
kind and sweet and don’t have some warped agenda to take the place of the
matriarch when the matriarch of Eric’s family passes away because I have no
interest in doing so because once the matriarch passes away then my free time
will become mine once more because the only person that I ever and truly fell
head over heels in love with is Eric’s mother and we hold a strong and dear
friendship without bullshit or lies.
Yes,
there’re many specific examples as to why I’m angry with Eric. Eric omits truths
such as recently as of two years ago when we bought our home August 2012;
Finally, on that September 2012 Eric told me how much previously secret credit card debt he’d been in since his divorce and he didn’t find it necessary to
share that information with me. I could’ve almost strangled Eric and he knew
it.
No, Eric
doesn’t ever lie. Of course, not.
However,
Eric omits large truths and that’s like…
That’s why I resent Eric so much because I really didn’t know Eric very well when
we first moved in together on December 12, 2006.
If only we would’ve dated more other than only four
months before we moved in together then I wouldn’t have married Eric because
that’s not something that I would’ve been able to get over during that period
of getting to know each other as I’m not able to now.
Ultimately,
what I can’t seem to get through Eric’s brains is that I sacrificed far more
than he ever did for this marriage and the one that sacrifices the most is the one
that gets guarded the most from hurt or harm or injury and Eric hasn’t been
able to manifest that completely in our relationship especially about those
aspects which I’ve asked him to change over the course of seven years yet Eric
either hasn’t known how to create change for himself thus his fear paralyzes
him to take action or he’s complacent to change and likes the status quo while
he’s inappropriate actions finally drove me to silence once more because I got
tired of the bullshit.
Eric
knows better yet he refuses to do better.
No,
Eric’s got nothing to hide behind.
Yes, for
seven straight years (or more) every single day of our relationship, I’ve made
the bed, done the laundry, washed dishes, made food, dropped off and picked up
Eric from downtown, mowed, shoveled, washed windows, dusted (which I despise),
swept and mopped the floors, vacuumed, cleaned the toilets, took out the
garbage and recycling to the garbage or recycling bin, picked up garbage and
raked leaves and folded clothes (all clothes: sheets and towels and kitchen
towels.) Whew! I’m ever so tired of so much domestic work.
My
domestic married life has greatly exhausted me and on top of that Eric’s
refused for seven years to go out and dance or socialize or to the ballet or
orchestra which recently he promised that we’d make it to a ballet or orchestra
within the year. Wow! I’ve been begging Eric for years to go to the ballet.
Eric still refuses to see theatre. I don’t blame him.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
When Eric said that, I almost fell over or went into
cardiac arrest.
Things are changing around here because the quieter I get
then the less I share of my life with Eric and the more I go inward then
eventually I’ll disappear because a disappearing act is the easiest thing to
pull off as I found with Eric.
Eric’s an expert at disappearing thus I learned it from
the best.
I, too, can intrinsically disappear.
What
keeps us together?
Love.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000
Word Count: 3,452
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 7,090
*) Day #235
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #20
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #3
without stress: I love it.
Literary Note:
From this day forth, I’ll write my egg
scrambled ESL sentences and come back and edit such sentences the following day
or on Mondays (because I refuse to work over the weekend.)
Yes, I
find that I can only write or only edit, however.
No, I’m
not gifted enough to do both with my own work because I’m neither Mr. Kurt
Vonnegut nor a genius.
This
process is my personal processes.
If anyone doesn’t like it then please don’t read.
Yes, I have way too many thoughts I’d like to get down on
paper before I lose such thoughts each time I sit down to write thus…
Yeah,
right.
Try writing ten pages (10,000 words) in front of the
world each and every single weekday.
This is a work-in-progress and not to be considered an entirely
completed or finished or polished piece of writing because it’s in the making
before your very own eyes.
Remember, the reader’s along on this joy ride.
The reader’s not here to be a critic or a hater.
Sit back and relax and take this work-in-progress for
what it is.
A Rough Cut…
Until I conduct edits to the best of my ability or don’t.
Understood? Thank you.
Yes,
I’ve spent four years almost killing
myself while simultaneously writing and editing trying to be as tremendously
amazing as Mr. Kurt Vonnegut was. I came to discover that I simply don’t work
like Mr. Kurt Vonnegut did.
Remember,
my imperfect writing and edits will help out with dementia in the long run.
Consider this writing more like a puzzle than an error.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
“The
goat has a beard, but still is no rabbi.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Pastoral
(relating to rural life and scenes)
The pastoral scene was printed by a noted artist.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 21
To
gain the good opinion of those who surround them, is the first interest and the
second duty of men in every profession of life. For power and for pleasure,
this preliminary is equally indispensable. Unless we are eminent and
respectable before our fellow-beings, we cannot possess that influence which is
essential to the accomplishment of great designs; and men have so inherent, and
one might almost say constitutional, a disposition to refer all that they say
and do, to the thoughts and feelings of others, that upon the tide of the
world’s opinion floats the complaceney of every man.
--- --- ---
Hello.
Major Correction:
Eric isn’t a “genius”
according to “MENSA”.
Eric missed the “genius” I.Q. score by few points.
My
deepest apologies for misinformation.
I
had the wrong information.
(I only write what I hear
or see or understand to know.)
Yes,
Eric’s given me permission to write about our marriage.
*********************
Yes, Not Ever did I want
Children
Until the Age of Forty, if ever
Part I
Early on at the age of twenty-one my Father
warned me: Aside from evolution most people only have children either to
fulfill their ego or to “fuck up” their children.
(Okay. Point well taken. I understood clearly that parenthood wasn’t anything other than a
total and complete full time commitment not to enter into lightly.)
Yes,
I’ve always wanted to be married, however, I’ve not ever wanted children until the
age of forty when my life became fully mature and set in stone and ready for
retirement and a hefty college educational fund set aside for our future
offspring.
Yep, I know that nothing is ever perfect.
Yes, all
that my Father ever wanted was children.
He
could’ve taken-or-left marriage.
For me
it’s the opposite from my Father’s opinion.
Yes, I
could do without children, however.
Not
without a smart man by my side to take in life as it comes at us (through everything)
because it is going to be our private responsible adult adventure without snot
or feeding time or vomit which is all very endearing, however.
The dynamics change and are no longer adult only when one
raises children nor should the dynamics be the same because children require
constant care.
No, I
don’t want or desire to lose our undeniably wonderful adult freedom because
it’s most valuable indeed.
Plus, “a child’s worth ten of the mother” and women are
still “niggers” or economic slaves or second class citizens so why would women
give up their natural born freedom to birth babies unless otherwise absolutely
necessary.
As far as global overpopulation is concerned: Well, we don’t need more newborns to birth as of right now because as it is the
Earth’s ecosystem isn’t supporting humans to her optimal best while Earth gets
‘fracked’ by men and our water supply diminishes and crop centers turn to
desert and Earth quakes are all too common now from oil ‘fracking’ rigs.
In my bias opinion:
Children take-up way, too, much valuable time and effort and energy without
knowing for certain if children will make decent adult people who won’t go out
of their way to purposely hurt or injure or harm others.
Children are expensive and must be taught to become
decent human adults each second of the day until they leave the nest rather
than allow for them to be immoral beasts.
Plus, there’s a large probability that children will
eventually become adults and hate their parents’ guts for having their parents
“fuck up” their children’s lives so it’s a loss before anybody ever gets
started.
Yes,
we’d like to believe that we’d make good parents, however.
Selfishly, I don’t personally want to split up any more
of my time to anything else not devoted to our marriage or our little family
with “Freeway” and to our work or downtime because we hardly have much time to
catch up with each other much less rest.
What a
complete bitch, ha?
How dare
I not want children?
What’s
wrong with me?
Nothing’s
the matter with me, per se.
Yes, I’m
tired like any other adult.
No,
birthing newborns hasn’t ever been something that I’ve ever wanted to do;
however, raising children totally interests me. What a conundrum, he? Yep.
Yes, I
don’t see that the risks out way the
rewards when it comes to birthing and raising children because every person
that I’ve ever met ever since 1989 (sixth grade) that I was comfortable and
able to straight forwardly ask them, if they ultimately and deep down inside,
if some part of them hated their parents no matter how much the offspring
showed respect to their parents; every single person that’s ever so
courageously or boldly answered that question in some form or other did hate
their parents for not being able to fulfill something deeply innately inherent
in the offspring like continual kindness or necessary time to deeply bond with
each other.
In other words: The offspring throughout many generations answered that
they felt as though they got ignored either because the pioneers (yes, the
Pioneers) had too much work to do or the greatest generation worked too hard to
get ahead in the ‘rat race’ or the baby boomers seemed to think that work
inside the home held no value thus baby boomers professionally worked too much
for status or the MTV generation defied their parents and grandparents or the X
generation babied their offspring too much or, or, or…
*****
My
Father says that there’s no such thing as “normal”.
My
Father also says that one isn’t obligated or forced to visit with one’s
in-laws.
As a matter of fact my Father says, that anytime that
anyone wants to visit their relatives then all that one has to do is to act
upon their freewill to make that trip all alone, if necessary without shame
that one’s partner isn’t traveling with them for whatever reason. It’s nobody
else’s business what a couple does or how they conduct themselves together or
apart or their vacation time.
My
Father also says that one isn’t ever obligated or mandated to visit one’s
in-laws. (Not ever.)
In other words: there’s no such ‘hard and fast’ rule that couples have
to visit their in-laws especially if it’s a tough or difficult time filled with
much misunderstanding or passive aggressive fights for a position in the
hierarchy of any family dynamics or abuse or violence or gossip in general.
My Father says that one doesn’t owe anything to anyone
especially not one’s most valuable vacation and weekends away from work because
that type of stress (to feel pressured to spend one’s downtime in any other
manner other than however one so chooses) can and does kill people because
downtime is one’s most valuable personal resource.
*****
No, we’re not getting a
divorce unless.
However, it’s not like that.
We love each other very
much.
We do.
I do.
In our
marriage…
We can
understand that from the outside looking in that our marriage must look like
we’re always on the verge of getting
a divorce or splitting up.
Yes, I
was totally and completely against living together before we got married April
16, 2009, however.
Eric’s sister-friend did make the great argument with
pros and cons as to why we ought to or not live together and her list of pros
won.
Still, I held many hesitations about moving in with Eric
that December 12, 2006 when we’d just met four months prior on August 2006.
At that
time Eric was still very much new to me.
Eric moved in while I resented the idea of it, however
that was a decision and a choice that we made together even though I’d already
told Eric, “no.”
Eric understood that I felt completely and totally
uncomfortable about the entire situation.
Literally,
Eric moved from his Plymouth home into my Uptown two-bedroom apartment in which
I lived there alone at that time.
Eric was also going through a legal separation and
divorce after a sixteen year marriage. My head spun with information overload.
At that
time (December 2006), I really didn’t know much about Eric other than I’d
professional checked out Eric’s work history and came to the conclusion that he
wasn’t a ‘creep’ or ‘psycho killer’ who’d kill me in my sleep.
In the past, both Eric and I shared some of the same
bosses in our industry and I trusted that.
Two of Eric’s family members had gone to college with one
of my aunts and I trusted that, however.
At twenty-eight years of age, did I ever consider that
I’d find myself thrown into a situation that I knew that I didn’t want to
participate or take responsibility for a partner who was forty-two years of
age? No.
Yes, I
was, too, weak to go with my gut reaction and not move in with a forty-two year
old divorcée whose sister (at that time) neared the end of a nine year battle
with cancer.
No, I
wasn’t perfect either.
That fall I began to show severe signs of abdominal
bloating and pain and didn’t want to live alone anymore.
At that time, I felt uncertain about my future.
At that time (winter 2006) I knew that the corporate
manager I worked for ‘had it out for me’ because the first day that I was
hired: I was directly asked to spy on my co-workers.
I refused.
I knew very well that it was only a matter of time with
the company before my days were numbered.
Also I was dealing with alcoholic and mentally ill
relatives and it sure was a mess.
Unlike today in which we minimize as much melodrama or
craziness or weird energy or activity or mental illness from our lives because
we’re mature adults and don’t have time for any of it.
*****
Much of our
miscommunication happens because Eric and I are as different as night-and-day.
We arrive at the same conclusions yet we arrive by totally different
destinations.
Eric’s a
great ‘guy’.
Yes, I’m
a great ‘gal’.
Our difficulties stem from: When it comes
to domestic responsibilities in equal distribution of chores.
On
November of 2007 (eleven months after we’d moved in together) in one of our
many ferocious fights Eric made it quite clear to me that he wouldn’t ever
again cook for as long as we lived together and that there would be no
discussion about it.
In anger he exited the long narrow hallway to our kitchen
apartment. I could barely stand the sight of Eric with his closed minded ideals
on domestic slavery.
Yes, I
ought to have aimed and thrown a glass at the wall near Eric’s head.
No,
purposely I wouldn’t ever hit Eric (nor have we ever) with any object or our
bodies although I ought to have awoken him from his regressed infancy and
thrown something at the wall at that time.
Yes, I
was appalled at his misconduct.
No, I couldn’t get over the idea that he
thought that I was his personal cook or cleaning woman or domestic Goddess
without a salary or raise or pension.
Yes, I
was appalled because Eric made it well known how little he thought of me.
Eric made it quite clear that he thought so little of me
that he wouldn’t and didn’t give me that choice as to whether I wanted to
become Eric’s personal cook or whether I ever wanted to enter into a contractual
agreement to do such things for him only because he expected them to be done
without getting on one knee and a ring and proposing to me. (We didn’t marry
until April 2009.)
Yes, I
knew then that I ought to have left the relationship when we were only eleven
months into living together, however. We shared a renewed apartment lease as of
that September 2007.
Yes,
both Eric and I’ve admitted (2014) that if we knew then what we know now about
each other that we wouldn’t have ever gotten married to one another.
No, I’m
not easy to live with because I’ve been ever so resentful towards Eric since
November 2007 when he took my voice away and directly told me that there would
be no options and that I would cook and serve our meals or eat out, however.
Eric likes to eat foods that just pile on the calories
and I don’t.
Yes,
Eric says that I fight him and that he doesn’t fight me.
True enough, however.
Eric shuts down and closes doors and it makes it quite
difficult for me to speak to him about anything when he’s ever so quiet in the
first place to begin with.
Yes,
Eric can be dense (or a “blockhead”) because when he gets an idea inside his
head then he refuses to budge leaving me without many options or solutions or
alternatives and the only simple choice is to do everything so that our home operationally runs well or not? (I
don’t know.) To do nothing isn’t an option. (Our home has to run accordingly
because I refuse to live in squalor.)
Yes,
both Eric and I admit that I fight Eric.
Nevertheless, when Eric shuts doors and bolts them like a
dense human does then he wonders why his wife did yell or eventually scream or pound on the other side of that
same door.
Eric frustrates me in ways that no one will
ever understand because for as smart as Eric is, he’s also not so smart in
many other ways such as for example: Eric wrongly placed a plastic bag upside
down on a five pound bag of flour. His dumb actions almost broke my toe on my
left foot. His thoughtless and inappropriate and stupid actions could’ve almost
inured or hurt “Freeway” (eleven pound dog) if “Freeway” would’ve stood right
beneath me while I went to get the flour out of the cupboard. (A minor
example.)
Finally, five weeks ago, I stopped raising my voice or
yelling and reverted back to my former quiet self before I ever met Eric and
explained to Eric:
“As a
good friend, I want to explain to you that the reason as to why women of my
generation don’t stick around to do all of the cooking or cleaning or housework
all by themselves is because they stop feeling appreciated and begin to feel
more like cleaning women and when that happens then the marriage is almost over unless something changes.
I’m tired of doing all of the work around the house. Please, help out or pay a
cleaning woman or come up with a better solution. No, I don’t need you to run
around doing other insignificant chores just to prove to me that you can. What
I specifically need help with is that you wash dishes at least once a week and
make bread once a week and walk the dog because I can barely take on my
workload plus housework especially now that I feel sick again. If you decide
that you aren’t willing to help out with these three particular aspects of
housework at least once a week then you don’t need a wife, you need a personal
assistant and I can’t be that for you.”
That
Sunday everything changed between us.
Eric’s been washing dishes three times or more per week
and he walks “Freeway” each day (which I walk with them). Eric hasn’t made
bread yet, however, I’m sure he will make bread one of these days.
Yes,
I’ve been talking about “divorce” ever since the first month we moved in
together.
Finally, now that I’ve become quiet (once again) I mean
business because I’m exhausted. I’d like to be in a participatory marriage in
which I don’t have to break my back to carry my spouse.
Yes,
Eric’s apologized for shutting doors on me.
Yes, I
accepted Eric’s apology.
No, you
never know what’s going on inside any marriage because while I sounded like the
dumbass who yelled or screamed at Eric especially while under tremendous
physical pain then Eric took advantage of the fact that he refused to budge to
help in any capacity for about seven years since November 2007.
Eric knows very well that I’ve resented him for it and
will continue to do so until he changes his tune. Eric’s begun to rapidly
change thus there’s hope for Eric after all.
Yes,
even though I was the one who did most of the yelling, (although Eric can yell
with the best of them,) Eric quietly slipped unnoticed under the radar because
Eric’s a stubborn donkey’s rear end when he decides that his way is the only
way. I’ve fought Eric with all my might because I’m not some 1950’s kept woman
nor 2014’s kept woman for that matter.
Eric’s now a fifty year old man and must mature or his
marriage is on the line in that I, too, can stay married to Eric yet shut
serious and major emotional doors, far more loudly and forever than Eric can.
I can see that smirk on Eric’s smart ass lips and I can
just see his brains telling him that I’m the weaker of the two, however.
Very little does Eric know that when I turn my heart off
towards someone or something then it’s over for good and don’t bother me again.
I don’t have time to wipe anyone’s butt.
Eric’s a stubborn donkey, however I can turn into ice
cold soundproof metal steel and forget that the living pound on the other side
of my door for help.
Yes, as
of three weeks ago I stopped fighting Eric and went quiet which means, “Oh,
shit! Get it together. She’s sick of your shit.”
What
keeps us together?
Love.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000
Word Count: 3,025
This Week’s Total Word Count Goal: 10,000
This Week’s Total Word Count: 3,638
*) Day #234
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #19
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Week #3
without stress: I love it.
--- --- ---
Literary Notes:
Yes, at
the end of ten years (in another five years) I’ll have to stay on for another three
weeks (as of today’s date) to make up a total thirty thousand words.
No, I
shan’t ever carry over from week-to-week if I can help it unless I’m gravely
ill or going into surgery or recuperating.
Yes,
it’s ever so easily to write sappily when one’s ESL.
No, I
don’t normally stop to daydream unless I’ve got a few hours otherwise we’ve got
too much work to do.
Yes, I
can’t wait to write lies in the form of fiction novels.
Embarrassment: (“discomfiture,” “awkwardness,” “humiliation,”
“mortification,” “shame”)
Monday, October 13, 2014
“A
lion should not weep in the presence of a fox.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Hauteur
(pride, arrogance)
The hauteur of the supercilious butler cost him
many tips.
--- --- ---
A book: “Manners Culture and Dress: of the Best American
Society, including social, commercial and legal forms, Letter Writing,
Invitations, &c., also valuable suggestions on Self Culture and Home
Training” By Richard A. Wells, A.M., Illustrated,, King, Richardson & CO,.
Publishers, Springfield, Mass., and De Moines, Iowa, 1891.
Introductory:
Chapter 1.
Page 21
HIGH birth and good breeding are the privileges of
the few; but the habits and manners of a gentleman may be acquired by all. Nor is
their acquirement attended with difficulty. Etiquette is not an art requiring
the study of a life-time; on the contrary, its principles are simple, and their
practical application involves only ordinary care, tact and sagacity.
Personal literary note:
“Etiquette”
and “Elite” are two different words.
(Alike
yet different.)
--- --- ---
Hello.
Happy National American Holiday!
Happy “Indigenous Peoples Day”! (Officially)
Here in
Minneapolis we officially celebrate “Indigenous Peoples Day” unless one’s A
Native American to North America otherwise mostly other humans come from other
places in the same manner or form in which our Maya Ancestors’ Origins began
with the Olmec People and before that from our Polynesian roots while crossing
continental divides on kayaks for continental water transportation long before
Mr. Columbus ever arrived in the Western Hemisphere of the Americas.
Columbus
slaughtered Central American Indigenous natives to those Latin regions or as
Columbus coined the term “Indians” of
Latin America known today as Central and South America. Slaughtered.
Mass
Traditional Oral Recorded History (recorded so by scribes (on stone or paper)
in relation to Elders and tribal collaboration) is irrefutable no matter how
much or whichever ‘watered down’ history might disturb others or cause them to
become angry only because modern people fear a more perfect balanced union
through time and change that which
ought to be corrected no matter what otherwise ignorance sits and nestles deeply
into the bone marrow of our global nations while we rot and decay a slow death
of uninformed masses who get angry for no good reason other than they just
don’t like justified and corrected
history that ought to have been corrected decades ago.
How, would
anyone like it if any race or culture or nation held a national holiday that
celebrated the mass slaughter of entire peoples or one’s Indigenous Ancestors’
countrymen who befriended the Spaniards only so that unbeknownst to the
Indigenous the Spaniards would captivate and enslave and slaughter their
Indigenous friends while the Spaniards were invited as guests and visitors in
the homelands of their supposed ‘new’ friends, the Indigenous.
Yes,
some of my best friends happen to be Spaniards.
Yes, I hold
a deep regard for Spaniards.
(You, too, would desire for a correction in the
impurities or imperfections of modern culture’s lack of astuteness towards
factual history.)
No blog.
National American Holiday!
Cheers!
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000 // personal journal
Word Count: 2,000 // personal journal // (613 for this
blog entry)
Last Week’s Total Word Count: 10,497
*) Day #233
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #18
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
*) No, we don’t work at all on the ‘Sabbath’ (Saturday)
from Sundown on Friday until sundown on Saturday.
We ‘hang out’ in our pajamas (we get dressed whenever we
leave the house to run errands or to be in public) and watch tele or film or
video and on Saturday’s we catch up on each week’s shows or news reels while we
eat healthy snacks and order out or pick up food. Fun.
*) Yes, Eric’s officially not a “genius”.
*) Yes, officially Eric’s an “expert” in his broadcast
engineering industry.
*) Yes, I’m considered an official “expert” by the state
of Minnesota as video technologist specifically in cinematography for
videography because “under my belt” I’ve got ten-thousand (10,000) hours of
practice (as of 2005) which took one complete decade (10 years) to acquire such
practice hours over a period of time. Cheers!
*) Another five years until I become an official “expert”
by the international world renowned literary workshops as writer / author
specifically in (public journal blog) Nonfiction writing genre for public works
because “under my belt” I’ll have twenty-thousand (20,000) hours of practice
which will take a total of thirty (30) years to totally complete since the
first time I began the quite serious and hilarious study of poetry and wrote my
first poem for publication in sixth grade at the age of twelve (12.)
Friday, October 10, 2014
“Let
a dog on your bench and he’ll jump to your table.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Avarice
(inordinate desire to gain, greed)
Avarice
can lead to a great deal of unhappiness.
(Awesome word.)
--- --- ---
Hello.
No Blog.
Wishing all a most excellent and relaxing weekend!
Cheers!
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000 // personal journal
Word Count: 2,000 // personal journal (361 for this blog
entry)
Total Word Count thus far this week: 10,497
*) Day #230
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #15
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
Notes:
*) Please,
keep my writing in perspective:
Yes, I’m
a good writer, per se; however I’m not very good at editing...
Yes,
this week I misspoke and wrote that I
wasn’t a good writer however we all know that’s just not true.
No, I’m
not the worse writer that ever lived.
Please,
don’t for one moment think that I don’t know or consider my worth or value as a
writer or thinker or artist or filmmaker because I’ve finally begun to mature
by leaps and bounds in my work as well as in my person.
It only took two weeks (October 2014) to ‘jump’ into mature adult ‘hyper-drive’
outlook and shot like a cannon ball out of this galaxy in terms of maturity and
well rounded outlook to consider all others’ situations or circumstances or
limitations or difficulties.
Yes, we
know what our films are worth.
Nevertheless
that’s neither here nor there.
Yes,
we’ve ‘always’ known the worth of our
work.
How does
one put a price tag on Sherlock Holmes (a book character) as one of the best
pieces of literary imagination?
Imagine if Sir Arthur Conan Doyle blogged, which he
almost practically did.
You, too, would’ve sat at the edge of your seat as well
as those of his contemporary time glued to their newspapers and as captivated
as this blog movement is unique and invaluable to us.
One doesn’t put a price tag on Sherlock Holmes thus money
becomes ridiculous and absurd when pricing art however it must get done.
--- --- ---
*) Yes, of
course it’s okay to yell and cheer at a theatre or concert venue or sports
event, however, one may not walk down the street and yell or scream or harass
others. Nope, absolutely not or others will consider such out of control
individuals, mentally ill.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
“An
eagle doesn’t catch flies.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish
Quotations)
Averse
(opposed, having a dislike, unwilling)
He is averse to war even though he is an excellent
soldier.
--- --- ---
Hello.
The Firing of a Quasi
Producer
April 1, 2007
Part IV
Forget
the money.
Forget
the money.
Forget
the money.
Yes,
forget it.
It’s not
about the money.
It’s not
about the money.
It’s not
about the money.
No, it’s
not.
A one
hundred thousand dollar verbal contract with a handshake is small ‘potatoes’ (dollars)
in comparison to other previous work I’d actually done while under legal
binding contract for ‘nationally’ recognized
film and video production companies which their budgets were and are in the
tens of millions of dollars.
Side
Note:
{Yes, such
nationally recognized film production companies did indeed and still do support
entire staffs of workers as well as
provide security for their workers while on location or on set.
When I worked or contracted or freelanced for other
corporate or private or internationally independent film companies I also
worked simultaneously at conducting my small and independent film production
company which steadily grew over the however
many years and ‘it is what it is’
today.
My film
production company grants the opportunity for investors to finance all of our
intellectual creative work ever since circa 2007 when we signed one and the
same contract with different investors in front of attorneys.
In other words: We get paid to think even though I call
writing a ‘hobby.’ Well, blog-writing is work and that’s for certain.
My
overall life’s literary work or thesis happens to be an experiment to see if
art does civilize to create freewill peaceful leadership.
Practically, it’s a road map of the topography of modern
civilization. (Yep. Why not? We only live once. Right? Right.)
(If art doesn’t civilize then I think that possibly
‘we’re shit out of luck.’ If art doesn’t civilize then what does? Out of
control police officers who pepper spray American citizens or police officers
who steal citizens’ birthday money. Oh, don’t make me laugh that hard because ‘I could dance sonnets around your little
brains.’ What does civilize?
There must be some form of beauty which does civilize. If neither nature nor
women’s beauty can or does civilize
men’s modern global barbarism then will art civilize men or will men civilize
men or will men civilize women or will the civilize, civilize?)}
Yes,
I’ve stalled for time to find the right words that I must correctly in essence write down then edits will be
made on Monday.
*****
Yes, I’m
a good writer however I’m not very good at editing.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 500
Word Count: 444
Total Word Count thus far this week: 10,136
*) Day #229 without
sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #14
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
“What,
besides beef, can you expect from an ox? ”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Ideology
(set of beliefs of any individual or class)
The ideology of Communism cannot be accepted in a
democracy.
Literary Notation: Vocabulary Note: English vocabulary card #844: Literary
example: “Communism” as a word is written-out with a Capital Letter “C” and the
word “democracy” is written-out with a lower-case letter “d”. (Does anyone know
why that is?) (Rhetorical.)
--- --- ---
Hello.
The Firing of a Quasi
Producer
April 1, 2007
Part III
The
greatest mistake that I ever made in the year of 2004 was to answer a job’s classified
advertisement in the newspaper for some position or rather (something in
software engineering technology) and ended up meeting a Caucasian woman in her
mid forties who knew absolutely nothing about film production or producing or
business for that matter much less film history yet she sold herself as a
fortune 500 financier.
Beats me as to why at that
time I didn’t put the pieces together
and figured it out sooner for myself.
Yes, my Father must be
right: I’m “gullible” at times.
The reason why I’m at times “gullible” is because it’s easier to believe a big
lie than a white lie.
The
woman who interviewed me for some position or other directly informed me that
due to my skill set that there
wouldn’t be a position for me in that
software department.
We thanked each other for each other’s valuable time.
While I
gathered my belongings (before I left the pale and sickly stricken looking
woman with dark raccoon circles under her eyes and her boss’s empty office) she
made it a point to ask me about some of my film projects because film was in
fact listed on my résumé.
In
passing, I simply mentioned that I was having people read or narrate some
voiceover work and that’s what I was working on at that time.
In the most nonchalant manner (and out of some idiotic
impulse) I mentioned to her that if she’d ever be interested to do a voiceover
read-through for film then to please do so because she had impeccable English
enunciation (which she did) and to please consider reading for one of my short
artistic film projects.
As soon
as those words left my mouth I regretted it.
Yes, I
was relieved to hear her say that most likely not.
Yes, I
completely and totally relaxed once she said no.
She was a complete stranger to me and I’d just been rejected
for a computer software engineering position by her thus all I wanted to do was
to gracefully exit the room and disappear from view and go home and relax with
a glass of red wine and forget the interview and her forever because her
caustic (razor sharp) nose and desperate look did in fact creep me out.
No, of
course not, I ought not to have overextended myself to a stranger in that
manner.
We shook hands at the very end.
Yes, I hoped that we’d not ever meet again.
Yes,
promptly, I left some empty office on an empty floor in an empty building
except that it looked magnificent from the outside.
(No, I shan’t describe the building because for people
who know the Twin Cities then they’d immediately figure out which building it
is.)
*****
May 2004
arrived at Twin Cities.
September
2004 moved to flat near Walker Arts.
December
2004-December 2005 worked at Children’s Hospital.
January
2006-August 2006 professional sabbatical.
Summer
of 2006 I had a ‘heart attack’ -- panic attack.
August
1, 2006 Eric and I meet.
August
31, 2006 I moved apartments.
November
15, 2006 Eric and I moved in together.
March
31, 2007 we internationally premiere our second feature length film.
April 1,
2007, we fired our quasi producer.
*****
February
2006 a knock at my flat studio’s door.
Yes,
politely I answered my door and there she stood.
The day
before a female acquaintance I’d only met one other time (almost two years
earlier) ‘called out of the blue’ and asked if I was still interested in having
someone do a voiceover.
No, I wasn’t interested in that woman doing a voiceover,
however.
Neither did I have the courage to say so thus I didn’t
say anything much at all because I wasn’t even sure if I knew which stranger I
was talking to because there’re so many.
If only I would’ve known then what I know now then I would’ve made some excuse or directly told her
that I wasn’t interested in working with her in any capacity because I had no need
for her and to please accept my apology for the tremendous mistake as well as
inconvenience I caused her on my part and to gently yet directly convey to her just
that however the words didn’t escape my lips and instead I allowed a
strange woman through my threshold that had no business being there at all in
the first place.
Deep down inside I knew that I shouldn’t let her in
because it was the fine details that gave
her away yet I didn’t register what
exactly threw me off my game when I was around her because it was
personally the beginning of a long seven year medical struggle and journey
(May, 2006-September, 2013) with different ailments at different times
throughout the years while benign tumors began to grow inside my uterus and I
began to feel terrible in my body. Each month the pain became progressively
worse than the previous month’s.
She
arrived ‘shiny, squeaky clean and bright eyed and bushy tailed’ in her worn out
matronly shoes with bows on top of each shoe and clothes from another early 1980’s
Era yet not quite vintage, simply old, used and worn out.
My blood
ran cold with fright.
Of
course, we commenced our conversation inside.
Yes, I
asked her in to brewed tea because I felt obliged.
She lay off her coat and things.
She wore a 1930’s grandmotherly “Great Depression” ‘bible
revival group’ style of hat, however, made in the 1980’s.
Out of that hat came a large hallow of freezie hair full
of dry and split ends with grey strands peppered-in like a sea of
salt-and-pepper shakers laid out on long rows of tables with white tablecloths.
Yes, I
hid a slight shudder at the sight of her.
Immediately
I didn’t like her or her lack of modern style or messy hair or the fact that
she dressed in a similar dress code as that of a ‘Great Depression’ Era school
teacher might have done so in her day yet the clothes were made in the 1980’s
or she wore 1980’s clothes made to look like 1930’s bible revival groups or
1982 office wear however nothing was designer so in other words her outdated
clothes were in good working order yet rather shabby and definitely out of
fashion and not the cool Coco Chanel out of date vintage, either.
*****
Offered
her some tea.
Brought
her in to see my single desk work area curtained off from the other half of the
room and asked her to please take a seat on my desk chair and read something
into a microphone.
We made a few recordings, however. Immediately and
instinctively she understood that she wasn’t at all what I was looking for.
At the end of a one hour recording session she said that
she was glad to meet me again and to have had the chance to work together.
Yes, I as well also thanked her and hoped that that was the end of it all because
I had to get back to important freelance work.
She
extended an invitation to possibly get together soon.
*****
The
second time we met was a week later at my place.
No, I
don’t even know how exactly that happened because I wanted to move on.
She ‘didn’t even skip a beat.’
All at once she proposed that we produce films together
and I almost spit because she explained that she’d never made a film before yet
she’d always wanted to make one and that if she ever were to have the
opportunity then she’d like to finance (key word) such projects.
My ears
perked up as soon as she mentioned money because I take money quite seriously
and give money its due respect.
No, I’m
not miserly.
Yes, I
took her way too seriously when I shouldn’t have until she forked over some serious
dough right in front of my eye balls because no matter how much she made it
sound like she was doing me a favor eventually spending time with her was a
waste of valuable time because she could barely make her way out of a brown
paper bag yet she could talk a good talk, however that was about it.
Yes, I
allowed for her big talk to set me off course.
Yes, I
lost valuable time away from serious freelance film work with other
professionals in my industry. Instead I ended up running around chasing my tail
from March 2006 through April 1, 2007 on some idiot with a big dream and no
money at all.
She
proposed to offer me one-hundred thousand dollars cold cash in the exchange for
three feature length documentaries and that she’d pay me once I was done with
all three feature length films as part of a series or portfolio to show to her
multi-millionaire clientele or increase profits through further distribution
sales and revenue.
Not only
did she not ever draw up a proposal contract with an entertainment lawyer as
we’ve done in the past which I expected her to initiate and draw up and have
her attorney contact ours.
My gravest mistake is that I began work before a signed
contract.
Furthermore, before she left, she stole my personal
roster with all of my personal contact information listed with everyone that
I’d ever met in the film industry up until that time in 2007, however.
No biggie because if anyone were ever to mention my name
then those professionals always get a hold of me and directly speak with me and
verify that I’ve personally sent someone their way.
Professionals do verify strangers and others’ existence
so that other professionals might not get as easily bamboozled as I did in the
past.
*****
Absolutely,
I fell in love with her mythological plan.
The plan
was that my production company would front ninety thousand dollars and produce
three feature length documentaries in one year then she’s turn around and
distribute my work and not only pay me one hundred thousand dollars back. Furthermore,
we’d split the distribution revenues and profits fifty, fifty, which seemed
kosher to me.
Implicitly I trusted her only to a point because A) I
needed an associate line producer to run not only three feature film productions
as well as to run my private company (mistake) while I directed and shot three
feature length films back-to-back in about a year or so B) she held a Jewish
name which later I came to discover that her Michigan family only legally took
that Jewish name because they liked the sound of it C) she had sad eyes What
can I say? D) she was clingy E) She was overly helpful in all the wrong ways
and ineffectual and unproductive yet she was a warm body to help around the
place F) she did impeccable hard covered binder high school work with tedious
precision, however, she couldn’t finance a mule to work in Mexico G) she was
the queen of ‘arts-and-crafts’ without any business or know-how as to how to
generate ideas, money or projects H) she was a ‘fast talker’ and that’s the
only saving grace that got her out of
trouble with me time-and-time, again because on a continual basis she
dropped the ball and made expensive and unnecessary business mistakes which I
don’t regret now because I didn’t personally make those mistakes I) I don’t
know why I took her on because continually I kept saving her hide (skin) while
I shot three feature length films, single handedly.
Immediately,
my brain swam and took a plunge into deep regions of delightful unknowns as to what
types of film projects I’d make right as soon as I’d be done with her three
feature length films and me placing one
hundred grand into my savings account as well as distribution revenue money and get ready for a long extended
vacation as well as three full length feature documentaries eventually
accomplished under another producer’s pickle and I’d still come ahead.
Well,
the moral of the tale is that eventually I ended up depleting my entire savings
account by financing trips to scouting locations or film shoots or extended my
services to extra photography shoots for other local area business owners that
had nothing to do with our documentaries or equipment or gas or hotel rooms or
food or film development or, or, or you name it.
Yes, I
paid for all of it out of my own film company’s pocket from a business loan
that I received in 2002 and was personally held responsible for.
Eventually and factually through hard evidence I found
out that she was taking my money and financing another business owner and his
dreams which whatever, however,
towards the end of the second feature length while it got cut on the editing floor she knew perfectly well how
broke I was.
She financed another local area business man’s company
while I ate soup out of tin cans and depleted my savings account as quickly as
she could and I let it happen.
It
wasn’t until one early morning, I literally almost walked right into a van in
some desolate uptown bus depot parking lot with the name and logo of the other
local business owner’s company that I realized I’d just financed his business a
new-used van because one month earlier he’d complained that there wasn’t any
money in his business account except that
right after he mentioned it; Both she and I went to the bank and I emptied out
my savings account.
Yes,
willingly I directly gave my money to her to do whatever she needed to because
I trusted her implicitly to make all of the right decisions and choices that
producers make for the main purpose of safety in the overall responsibility of
film production to carry on.
Behind
my back she went and purchased a van for another local area business man when
she was utterly and totally broke herself.
She developed his business on my pickle while I kept
begging her to plunk down at least fifty grand on the table because it was I
who’d plunked down sixty thousand on two feature films while she contributed
zero dollars to any of the two full length feature films which one of the films
is dedicated to her and the only other film that I’ve ever dedicated to anyone
else was also dedicated to a fraud and unbeknownst to me at that time, she
happened to be prostitute.
All of
this writing ought to tell you a lot about what I thought of both women because
it’s easy to get swindled or caught off guard if one’s not dealing with real
business professionals only people who talk real fast about themselves to
distract others from the fact that they don’t know anything about anything
especially not the film industry or even small scale business like conducting a
one hundred grand.
Are you kidding me, some people spend as little or as much as one hundred
grand just going out on a Friday night because they like to and they can afford
to do so.
Yes, I
kept all receipts of expenditures because supposedly when we were done with the
three feature length film projects then I’d give her all of my receipts and
she’d reimburse my film company of all of those backlogged receipts then
hopefully she’d go her way and I’d go mine and we’d not ever have to see each
other again after so much work and very little play or rewards.
Whew!
No, I
wasn’t ever reimbursed a single penny for two full length features I produced
directly out of my savings.
It’s amazing
how some people might think or expect that one’s going to make them free full
length feature films for nothing. (One would almost have to be mentally ill to
think that someone’s going to make them three free feature length documentaries
for their pleasure and enjoyment.)
Only in the Midwest do people seem to think that way because anywhere else in the world real business
people do in fact pay to have films made and not directly out of any director’s
pocket, not normally, anyway.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 3,000
Word Count: 3,129
Total Word Count thus far this week: 9,696
*) Day #228
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #13
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
Personal Note:
Please
first keep in mind that humans have great physical and mental limitations.
My
Father says, “ ‘Expect that most of the world’s population lives either under
some constant form of stress or severe illness or ailment or starvation so
remember to ‘cut others some slack’ and ‘take
them where they’re at’: When people feel respected and appreciated then
they’re more apt to peacefully and positively participate or collaborate
otherwise first consider that someone’s either extremely physically ill (or
dying) or in pain or under prolonged duress or an emergency or secondly, drunk
or thirdly on any of whichever forms of
medications, drugs, pharmaceuticals or possibly mental illness. Don’t judge
because you don’t ever know what’s going on with other people. You don’t ever
know so don’t ever assume anything until you think you know for a fact.’ ”
Okay.
Side Bar: {In the year 1990: My Father also used to say, “ ‘Don’t
ever worry about what other people think about you because other people are
only concerned about what other people think about them so it doesn’t matter
what anybody thinks about you because everybody’s only concerned about
themselves.’ ”} Okay.
A behavioral example:
Humans easily get distracted by modern digital gadgetry in that our young adult American pedestrians stop ‘dead cold’ in
the middle of streets to look at their phones and don’t budge for anything
because whatever magical spell binds them while they’re ever so overly
captivated without a thought about traffic or getting run over is just too
strong a force that young adults seem willing to place their lives ‘on the
line’ to watch entertainment in the middle of city streets while traffic’s in
transit. (I made my case in point.)
A technological example: Modern computerized cars are fun to drive, however.
All those buttons and digital options that might redirect
away concentration from the road which is
where one ought to be watching out as
per always ‘eyes on the road’ or traffic or deer or any of other wildlife (yes, even in the highways or freeways).
Cheers!
It’s only 8:27 A.M.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
“You
can’t make an arrow out of pig’s tail.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Berserk
(frenzied, enraged)
He ran berserk and began shooting at those about
him.
(Corrections are made) The white police man went berserk when he smashed-in a car
passenger window inwards with an ice pick device and violently tazed a black
man while the passenger, sat; --- seated in his passenger car seat (factual
corrections were made). (To Serve and Protect).
--- --- ---
Hello.
The Firing of a Quasi
Producer
April 1, 2007
Part II
According
to the best of my recollection because I’d have to consult my notes about what
took place when and which specific dates.
Yes, I had
a tremendous “panic attack” year 2006.
No, at
the time of the burglaries (September 2004-August 2006) I didn’t have a
“psychotic” or “nervous” breakdown or ‘go insane’ or ‘tried’ anything unusual
or dangerous or weird (for smart old me)
other than I had an ‘intense’ “panic attack” and emotionally broke down and
first panicked on my own and by myself
and thought about the worst case scenario (for about two straight hours)
and later cried in front of four people that I’d personally called for A) moral
support and B) emotional strength and C) to help endure such a hardship or
anything at all for that matter, however.
All four people that I personally called up for moral
support and friendship help I’d only known less
than three years because none of my equals or personal close best friends
was geographically nearby.
Although
it was my closest and personal best friends that I ought to have directly
spoken with them about the matter that a strange and unidentified person had
indeed and in fact illegally entered our apartments (premises) (five female
tenants total) except that at that time I had no such proof of a silly little
thing like that until about that warm weather season 2006 and the female
tenants soon moved out August 2006. I also moved out on that August 2006.
To this day I consider it a mistake that I didn’t tell my
closest and personal best friends, nevertheless, it didn’t dawn on me (at that
time) that I could reach out to my oldest and closest friends because I didn’t
want to interrupt their ever so successful and busy lives while they were so
far away scattered all across the world and still are scattered today.
(Now, my best friends think that it was utterly silly of
me not to pick up the phone and dial them directly and explain the situation to
them because they would’ve understood that they spoke with an intelligent woman
who happened to be terrified out of her wits and they would’ve been able to
tell immediately that I wasn’t joking or looking for attention or whatever. I
was genuinely terrified that I might find a stranger at my apartment and then
what? Who knows?)
*****
Such a
panic attack only happened once in my lifetime and at that time I was
twenty-seven years old.
The following week after my mostly and only embarrassing
panic attack:
Why
embarrassing?
Embarrassing
because I didn’t conduct myself with a
New England East Coast ‘stiff upper lip’ or like a Lutheran Finn Minnesotan or
northeast, Minneapolis Russian Orthodox.
Yes, I reacted like a frightened woman because I was
frightened of a brutal death just as I am of rollercoaster rides.
Yes, I’m terrified of rollercoaster rides because my mind
understands that anything can mechanically break down at any moment and then,
ahhh!
No, I don’t totally relax on rollercoaster rides.
Sometimes I scream and then I refuse to go on another
rollercoaster for another decade because I feel silly to begin with. (I like my
feet firmly planted on the ground.)
Yes, ‘I
went to pieces’ because I was terrified out of my wits yet all the time I had
to hold it together without knowing if and when…
*****
I asked
my Father to meet me for a physical and mental health examination at a woman’s
free clinic in the Twin Cities because by December 2005 I’d quit my job at the
hospital (December 2004-December 2005) and was no longer under any health
insurance provider until again August 2006 through a corporate employer.
My
Father drove down and asked me some tough questions. With flying colors I passed
all of my Father’s psychological tests and he gave me the okay to go home. So I
did, however. I ought to have gone and staid at a hotel or someplace else for
the remainder of that time.
In the end, my Father and I walked out of that women’s
free health clinic together and didn’t ever look back again.
After a most severe panic attack I put my life back
together as best as I could even though I spent the remainder of August 2006
living in complete and total white sheer terror for my life while I waited to
make a move to the other end of the neighborhood while I shopped around for
another apartment to come along in my price range which was significantly low,
no more than eight-hundred per monthly rent in those days or today for that matter although we ended up
paying nine-hundred and fifty (each) for two of us and later one-thousand and
fifty dollars and it went up from their until at the end of six years we were
asked to also pay ‘heating bills’ then we looked to purchase a homestead and we
did so.
(Our mortgage today is six-hundred and eighty dollars per
monthly payments and we live in a beautiful home in a mostly righteously and
tremendously professional beautiful part of the Twin Cities.)
*****
The only other time that I ever became emotionally
“raw” (according to white Americans) is when I semi-wailed and sobbed into my
hands while all alone one late cold February 2006 night as I tried to hold back
loud sobbing choked cries that might’ve scared a grown man down to his socks.
(Many Indigenous Central American women are taught to
wail so as to better cleanse their spirit of any evil intent or harmful unjust
cause done against them otherwise hold a steady peaceful silence and make an
apology when it’s one’s fault.)
That cold late winter and early windy spring night that I sat down and held back loud choking
sobs of complete absolute terror -- I did in fact went home to find one single
footprint on the floor of my entryway doorway and went ice cold stricken with
pre-panic.
Later on that year 2006 I came home to discover that my
entire closet had been ransacked. Someone took all three bottles of prescribed
painkiller drugs that I’d kept hidden away under lock and key. (You’d shit
yourself, too.)
On that
February night I sobbed because I was scared.
I sobbed because that one big footprint was proof that I
wasn’t going insane even though I was ready to commit myself into a mental
clinic if some type of evidence didn’t manifest or make itself clear to me
because objects don’t just appear or disappear or move by themselves.
On that February morning, (I arrived
home at one in the morning) I didn’t want to wake up our neighbors however I
could barely contain my terror frozen down to my barebones like a skeleton
afraid of wind and storm.
Yes,
later on that same year 2006, at the time of my panic attack, I thought I was
having a heart attack.
I didn’t quite know what was wrong with me other than I
was scared witless with fear stricken panic most of the time.
In those days I easily jumped out of my skin and at times
I still do. I sometimes frighten easily because well, all too weird things do
happen in the world.
*****
From
December 2004 through December 2005 I worked through a branch of the children’s
hospital as a Video Technician Specialist and supervised the video tech
department for that particular facility.
In one single year we conducted eight hundred interviews
via remote feed while certified psychologists or psychiatrists sat inside a
small interview room and directly asked questions of the children as to how and
where precisely on their bodies if they could specifically point out on a
diagram had they either been raped or beaten or molested or all of the above.
Yes, I
loved the technical work I did, however.
Some of
the videotaped medical examinations made my blood run cold because I’d
witnessed children come to the hospital with objects (such as large wooden
sticks) forced inside their little anuses or vaginas and only monsters do that
to little children.
Yes, I
was beside myself that American Minnesotan children suffered greatly thus by
the hand of their Kin or caretakers or extended family members or friends or
people they knew.
Yes, I
know what it’s like to see a child just found a short while after an “Amber
Alert” and have such victims describe in detail their horrendous experiences of
their kidnapping or rape.
It was impossible for me to totally and fully get
comfortable with the subject matter of child sexual violence or brutal assault.
Yes, I
liked other more serious professional functions and facets of the job like
going downtown each Wednesday and either collecting video depositions from
judges or attorney’s offices to continually restore our archives with proper
and updated information (back at our medical facilities) or potentially take
the stand as an “expert witness” (a stand-in) (as an expert witness understudy
to other official video “expert witnesses”) to any of which cases pended trial
throughout the year.
Yes, the
high probability that child perpetrators or child rapists or sexual molesters
or assaulters knew perfectly well who I was is because it was some of these
perpetrators that brought the abused children to our facility and that made it
difficult to trust any adult with any abused child that was brought-in because
in our child psychology conferences and staff meetings we were taught that some
ridiculous high percentage of children who are beaten or raped or molested is
done by someone that they know well. (Yikes.)
*****
Long
before my apartment building complex neighbors and I ever put together the
mystery of our thieving intruder -- that day that I found my closet ransacked
(for some reason) I became stricken with terror and panicked because I didn’t
know what to think except that I was afraid for my life and had been afraid for
my life for nearly two years with the possibility that an intruder might slip
unnoticed coming or going from my apartment without ever showing themselves to
anyone and suddenly one night I’d wake up to my throat cut open. Yikes.
The terror alone scared me far more than death itself.
My head spun wheels trying to figure things out for
myself.
Yes, I
panicked because the strong possibility that any of hundreds of sex offenders or
rapists in the state of Minnesota could become possibly directly angry at me
was unimportant because I’m not that special, however, I was indeed visible
personnel and in some ultimate way part of a system that put perpetrators away
in jail.
Yes, I
was part of that justice system and no matter how small a role one might have,
the point is that one’s visible to a sector of population that makes up their
own rules and doesn’t abide by laws thus the chances for violence goes up.
Yes, I
wondered if any of the already or would be sentenced sex offenders or kiddy
rapists had become angered enough to find out where I lived and entered my
apartment or possibly was willing to take vengeance upon me on some dark night
while in the middle of my sleep and that was enough provocation to make my
blood run cold with cruel terror which I could no longer sustain the shock and
went into panic attack mode for two hours that one evening.
Whew!
Yes,
even at the time and a long time afterwards I felt silly about the entire
situation all these years later. How silly of me to think that some kiddy
rapist wanted vengeance, however.
The most vital piece of information that I didn’t posses
for most of those two terror stricken years was
that I wasn’t the only woman in our apartment complex that had some
“sticky” fingered thieving perpetrator going through her belongings in order to
steal prescription painkiller drugs.
Who knew that’s all that they wanted.
What I can’t seem to understand is how did our
perpetrator eventually find out that I had three bottles of Oxycontin hidden
away under lock and key and broke in?
*****
Yes, of
course I got the police involved.
On the
night of my panic attack I, myself, called the police.
A kind and young white police man came out to my
apartment and investigated as best as he could investigate my tiny little
studio flat which I’m sure that he
just thought that I’d gone completely “off my rocker,” however in reality if
you took just one good look at me then you knew that I was utterly embarrassed
and scared to the core of my soul.
Embarrassed
because I didn’t react like a New
Englander or Minnesotan.
Scared
because I had no idea what on Earth was
happening yet something was amiss.
Yes, I’d
become terrified for my life because I thought I was the only one going through
such an experience alone.
Yes, I’d
become terrified to live my life because no matter what I did I simply couldn’t
shake the fear that had nestled deep inside my bones and settled in like a late
November bronchitis chill.
In those days, I barely slept a wink at night for fear of
getting murdered in my sleep.
The more afraid I became then the less I talked about it
for fear that people thought me crazy so I kept quiet about the entire ordeal
until one day I came home to find all of my windows thrown open and a ladder
directly underneath my bedroom window.
Nope, when I mentioned it to maintenance the following
day they had no idea what I was talking about, however. That was the day that
three women came out back to a courtyard patio area and disclosed that they,
too, had noticed that someone had been going through their bathroom cabinets
and stolen their prescription painkiller drugs.
We sat up late that night and compared notes because it
was a relief to find out that we weren’t alone or gone totally and completely
‘stark mad crazy’ all by ourselves.
Yes, I
swear to God that to my greatest recollection that everything that I’ve written
here today “is the truth and nothing but the whole truth so help me God.”
Yes, I’d take the stand under oath and tell a judge the
entire truth about the matter and how it happened to me.
As far as anything else goes, I don’t know.
Yes, I only know what I know and what I witnessed and
what directly happened to me otherwise it’s any other individual’s story.
Yes, I
can’t wait to write novels then I’ll make up lies all the time because that’ll
be more fun than telling non-fiction truths that’ll make your skin crawl as it
did mine so many long years ago.
I try
not to think about it.
Since my
statute of limitation is up and seven years passed I’m finally able to write
about this topic without any foreseeable lawsuits of any type.
It was the right thing to do, to wait and write about this
experience for the sake of others involved more so than mine.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 2,000
Word Count: 2,593
*) Day #227
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #12
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
Monday, October 6, 2014
“You
can deck a pig in palms,
but
he will still act like a pig.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Harbinger
(messenger, forerunner)
Robin, the harbinger of spring, is a welcome bird.
--- --- ---
Hello.
The Firing of a Quasi
Producer
April 1, 2007
Part I
No, I
shan’t directly call names or shame or accuse another of misbehavior, however.
I shall write this piece with our audience in mind so
that they may learn an invaluable moral tale from our warning call because
we’ve learned harsh and difficult lessons over the years.
*****
September
2004 I moved to a studio flat near the Walker Arts Center and lived there until
September 2006.
Little did I or four other women living at the same
complex building for two straight years know what we’d soon find out towards
the end of our stay there then eventually one-by-one we moved out at about
the same time because our stark reality became too morbid to face.
It took
two years for us (as a group of women) to figure out that some complete
stranger did illegally enter our apartments on a monthly or even weekly basis
and went through our belongings.
The only thing that was ever taken was prescription
pills.
Our main
common denominator that which we
shared as a group when we put our stories together was our missing prescription
drugs and the fact that we had all noticed that our belongings were ever so
slightly shifted or moved.
At first
when any complete stranger secretly begins to look through another stranger’s
belongings then the thief is ever so very careful not to shift things around or
knock over or bump into anything except that after a while a thief gets
comfortable or lazy in their surroundings or their behavior begins to show in
their movements or action and eventually objects do begin to get misplaced or
disappear completely and you don’t know what the hell is going on because
either A) You’ve completely lost your brains B) You ate something bad C) Your
eyes begin to play tricks on you.
If one were to live alone then It’s nearly impossible for
objects to move on their own unless one either has A) ghosts or B) multiple
personality C) a new pet D) a new modern vacuum.
As an
independent group of smart women, we found out that such an individual thief had
gone through each of our belongings (for years possibly) only to steal
prescription painkiller drugs from us yet
and however more importantly this individual scared the living life out of each of us (independently from each
other yet all going through the same experience at the same time) and it wasn’t
until together we realized that an intruder kept moving objects around on us then did we really understand the gravitas
of our situation that we weren’t the only ones to come or go from our own
apartments or that we were alone for that matter.
One
saving grace was that during the summer months almost every Friday night (only
in warm weather season) we got together for dinner and openly spoke like smart
women do about our lives in general.
Eventually the subject did come up.
Suddenly we were all relieved to find out a thread of
truth because we were ‘this’ close and ready to commit
ourselves into mental institutions. (Thankfully my Father talked me out of it.)
Another
saving grace: I lived in a studio apartment.
No room
to hide anything or anyone.
No, it’s
nearly impossible to explain that type of fear or terror or panic that sits
inside your bones when they rattle with complete and utter terror other than
the very fact that my eyes still slightly cry to this day when I think about it
so I don’t.
Every single time that we went home to our humble
apartments; We began to get into the habit to check out everything only to see
if possibly some pervert had hidden a camera on us while some stranger with a
monitor (who knew where) and an erection saw down to our underwear color while
we dressed or undressed.
Shortly after, we moved away because it was too creepy to
justify living under such oppressive and terrifying conditions any further than
that August 2006.
Yes, we
came to a consensus that it wasn’t building management or maintenance because
we spoke to them on a weekly basis and trusted them well enough to respectfully
chit chat about small things throughout the years.
However and nevertheless, someone held a master key to
our apartments and a foot size eleven and a half (correction).
My eyes
watered now for the second time.
Yes, to this day I’m still frightened to death of
everything that happened to us.
Everything we witnessed and experienced is something of
sheer terror for me.
It was the first and only time in my life that I panicked
and for the third time went into hyperventilation mode from pure stricken fear
of possibly getting raped or murdered in my sleep.
We were so vulnerable to any perpetrator.
*****
Yes, my
retired M.D. psychologist Father has made it quite clear to me that I’m not
“lazy” or “insane” or “mentally ill,” however.
According to my Father I’m (only sometimes) “gullible”
and simply must grow out of that phase which I’ve been working at for the past
decade ever since May 2004 when I first moved to the Twin Cities that spring.
Yes, I’d
have to conduct further psychological research: In the past have I personally
made bad decisions because either A) I haven’t gathered all of the relevant
information needed to make a thorough investigation about anything at all? Yes.
B) Do I get stupid when I’m tired? Yes. C) Am I stupid? No. (Hardly.) D) Am I
average? Absolutely yes. (I can live with that.) E) Am I dumb? No. (Hardly.) F)
Can I sometimes be “lazy minded” especially when I don’t want to think too much
about anything too difficult or complicated? Yes. G) Do I think well on my
feet? No. (Absolutely not.) H) Am I lazy? No. (Absolutely not.) I) Am I crazy? No more or less than any other chap or
fellow. J) Why do I prefer to lounge around and do nothing except read books in
bed? Because it’s comforting to read in bed and to read isn’t nothing. Reading is important and difficult mind work. K) Am
I loyal? Yes. Till death do us part.
L) Are we into extra-marital affairs? No. (Absolutely not.) M) How do we live
our lives? We live our lives with as little melodrama as possible and with the
chance and opportunity and possibility for us to lead by example each and every
single day because we will it. N) Do I have arrested development? No. O) Am I
angry? Not anymore. P) Am I happy? As happy as anybody can be, I suppose. Q) Am
I a grown up? No. R) Am I a mature adult? Yes. S) Do I live in constant
physical pain? Yes. T) Am I Freda Kahlo? No. (Not even close.) U) As a married
woman do I “personally” hold secret crushes on other men, married or otherwise?
No. V) Why not? W) Because I’ve learned to turn off that part of my brain as a
married woman. I look at people because I’m a cinematographer and that shan’t
ever change, however. X) Do I want to rip off the clothes of some stranger or
have them do that to me and have mad passionate sex? No, thank you. It takes
more than that to turn me on. Y) Do I love Eric’s penis? Z) That’s none of your
business, however. If you must know.
Eric’s beautifully built like a Greek God. Eric’s an
amazing lover and that’s why I married Eric because I want a man who is
remarkable in the bedroom as well as smart and relaxed and laidback and
everything I asked the Gods to bring me in a partner is what I hold sacred in
our marriage and now our little family of three. Yes, both Eric and I are
legally bound by an American marriage law under a legal contract. Period.
Am I
insecure? No.
Are you
insecure?
Am I
clinically or officially depressed? No.
Am I
clinically or officially PTSD? No.
*****
Why am I
in physical pain?
Yes, I’m
in physical pain because more or less
I’m dying at the same rate as anybody else who’s healthy as a horse however I
live in constant physical pain (throughout the years) because I have a tendency
to grow cysts throughout my body such as at the center of the palms of my hands
or under my arm pits or in my thyroid gland or along my underwear line,
however.
My cysts don’t all grow all at once.
Only throughout the passing years.
Just
when I’m done with one bout of cysts in a specific particular region of my body
then almost immediately another bout of cysts begins to form and take place in
different areas and begins another entirely new series of medical problems in
different regions with different trigger affects to separate and differently
distinct regions or muscle groups or tendons or such.
No matter how many surgeries are done to either remove
benign uterine tumors or cysts it’s a lot of medical visits and blood work and
ultra sounds (throat and uterus) and MRI’s and, and, and…
Finally
I’ve resigned to accept my constant physical pain from day-to-day as a way of lifestyle because I shan’t
fight my physical pain because it’s futile. (Repetitive? I know. Annoying,
right? Right.)
Nevertheless,
I refuse to take any type of prescription painkiller drug because then my
speech goes to mush and it gets slurred.
No, I don’t seem to think straight while under the
influence of medical prescription painkiller drugs.
Yes, I
become completely relaxed.
My speech slows down like some slow motion underwater
function because nothing in my entire body
hurts and that’s how relaxed one becomes when one sits with prescription
painkiller drugs far too long. Absolutely nothing hurts with painkillers and
the entire world goes into slow motion.
Painkillers tend to numb out pain receptors in the brain
yet such prescription painkiller drugs also shut down essential and vital motor
skills in other regions of the brain like speech and movement or more precisely
finite motor skills.
When one
lives through with-drawl from prescription painkiller drugs then immediately
one’s entire body and muscles and bones begin to hurt all at once as though one
were going through ‘growing pains’ all over again, except fifty times more
painful.
When one
decides to purify or detoxify their entire body from such prescription painkiller
drugs then all one can do is ride that physical pain out like a wave or a horse
for nights and days on end.
Still
even many months later one still doesn’t quite feel themselves as a whole and
complete human because it feels as though one’s aged that much more all at once
and it’s left one that much more feeble and weak. (Give it time to regain
strength.)
One must be willing to purify the blood to completely
remove such chemical compounds from the bloodstream and the central nervous
system.
Yes,
I’ve matured into an adult ever more so
deeply introspective to the point in which I’ve stopped asking myself
intellectual questions and have begun to feel with my gut reaction and accept
the way things are when it comes to constant physical pain without prescription
painkiller drugs unless the pain gets ever so unbearable that it feels as
though I do have some trouble breathing from dire pain then it’s serious
business.
My body is naturally somewhat fragile and dainty while in
places bony and my flesh is mostly a direct line of curvature encompassing a
life of experience and knowledge and wisdom and tough lessons to not repeat
ever again.
Also, to my surprise, I’m extremely youthful looking in
body and face especially because during my young adulthood I first began to
live doubled-over in pain on a constant and yearly habitual basis because
doctors told me that nothing was ever the matter with me yet there were one
grapefruit size uterus benign tumor and three other smaller ones the size of
apples and apricot. (My uterus sure was a fruit basket at that time, (May,
2006-September, 2013.)
However, the first time (2003) that I ever hemorrhaged
and almost filled one-third of a
bathtub filled with my blood, I realized that I was either going to die that night
or it was going to be a long journey to figure out what the heck was physically
wrong with me.
(To this
day, doctors still don’t have a clue as to what ails me. It’s not cancer,
that’s for sure. It’s something else.
Throughout the years it’s been a challenging ailment full
of life which has a way to transform me to the deepest regions of my brains’
numb receptors while I so effortlessly breathe through physical pain so as to
cover up pain for as long as I can or sit ever
so still during extreme painful bouts without moving so as not to disturb
any part of my body in any way otherwise I might feel intense sharp pain
wherever the cysts or benign tumors may reside for a duration of time or if the
surrounding body parts also become swollen from extreme pressure from either
foreign masses or legions growing alongside other vital organs or muscles or
tissue, whether it’s cysts that develop and grow inside the middle of the palms
of my hands, putting added pressure on tendons causing Carpal Tunnel Syndrome
or armpit cysts that in the past have made it almost nearly impossible and
unbearable to set my arms comfortably by my sides or whether it’s a fifteen
year sore throat.) Nobody knows.
That
answers that question.
Moving
on.
*****
One
month before most of us moved out on August 2006 we discovered that a woman
(unknown to us) had been violently handled.
She got trapped between a dark stone stairwell and a
heavy doorway while a man shoved her and pushed her and hit her and stole her purse.
We packed up and moved because such a thing had not ever
or once occurred within the previous two years.
*****
Tomorrow
I’ll begin Part II here for you…
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 3,500
Word Count: 3,981
Total Last Week’s Word Count: 10,085
(Mathematics calculated.)
Yes, there isn’t any more word surpluses.
*) Day #226
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #11
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
Word Count Notes:
As far
as “word count” and “word count goals”: At one point I wrote that each week I’d
restart this blog’s total word weekly
or monthly ‘countdown’ goal so as not
to carry over any surplus ‘word-writing’ time into each following week.
As far as my memory is concerned: this is the first time (between months) that I carried
over my word surplus primarily because I’m dealing with health issues. (Nothing
serious, yet there they are; health issues that is.)
Now, I have about 30,000 words (three weeks’ writing) to make
up at the end of the total completed ten years. I’ll have to stay three weeks
longer into that June 2020 at the end of my second five year term because at
this point I refuse to take away from any of our vacation days.
*****
In 2010;
I was gathering research for three different film projects as well as filming
two different and separate feature length films while writing a blog even
though when I first got started with this blog (that first year) it took me
five daily hours (and four daily hours the second year and three daily hours
the third year and two daily hours the fourth year) to write a blog per daily
hours.
Now it only takes me about one and a half hours to write
ten pages (10,000 words) in our fifth year here especially when I write fast and
don’t edit then I can ‘cover more ground’ although without technique it sure
makes this literary run slower paced because each following day after I’ve had
almost a whole day away from the writing I still spend one full complete hour
editing through my work and that’s the hardest part about writing. Edits.
Yes, I’m a good writer, per se; however I’m not very good
at editing...
No, I’m not the worst writer that ever lived.
While I
was out doing field research and filming, at that time I wrote from the road
and that made it difficult to concentrate.
No, I don’t like to write in public because it’s my
favorite time to sit back and relax and daydream and allow for all sorts of
thoughts and emotions to run across my face. Writing’s a private endeavor.
First, I like to write my ‘scrambled egg’ thoughts down
and then go back the next day and make corrections or changes to words. It’s
best that way for me. Thanks.
*****
I shan’t
carry over surplus writing time so as to challenge any writer to keep their focus on an entire long term
project, sure is difficult to teach endurance so as to show any writer to
learn to keep their head up and looking at their screen and concentrate on
their writing and nothing much else matters while they work other than life’s
responsibilities, of course.
A mature writer can and will stand up and attend to
anything at any moment such as make tea or let out the dog or, or, or because
life always takes precedence over
art, nevertheless.
Any time that one does get to create art work without
interruption is indeed a glorious time because when any artist works at a most
difficult medium or rather disciplined task then it’s only because it’s meant
to be challenging and complicated so that the reward’s are that much more.
Yes, writing’s a complicated and complex discipline like
any other.
A larger
project goal is to stretch the limitations of these literary teachings during
any creative process time because it’s energy and precious time dedicated to
the disciplinary art form to write well opposed to not writing at all which
“that ain’t gonna happen.”
More or less I’ve always written at least two hours per
day on average over the past twenty-some-years because words matter more so
than anyone’s bias opinion.
Teachings are difficult to teach because that means that
any writer has to be smarter than their ideas to put words to their ideas in a
way that such words make sense to write
about writing about words.
Yikes. I better stop there.
*****
I could
go on about writing because it’s my favorite topic to write about because it’s
the easiest topic for me to write.
I fall back on writing about writing when I don’t have
other more articulate thoughts prepared to further develop meaning from my
words before such words get written down or my thoughts require further serious
organization more so than consideration.
Writing about writing is a stall tactic before I say what
I really want to write.
No, I
don’t ever run out of ideas?
Do you?
No, I
don’t run out of ideas, simply I need time to make sense out of thoughts so as
to place them in sequential order and see if I can create any sense out of such
words well enough to convey something cohesive to another individual.
Word are
like a message in a bottle.
No matter how worthless the message might appear to any
receiver it’s vitally important for the sender to write. Often a message in a
bottle is an outdated S.O.S. however.
When words get drenched in pure poetic honey then writing
turns into something quite different all together because the message neither
needs nor warrants anything from its reader other than to have the reader
acknowledge that such words took-in oxygen and chose to live and thrive and
cultivate further beautiful essence which is more difficult to do then at first
appears even at the best of times.
It’s ‘magical’ (not literally, only for a lack of a
better English word) to have the ability to allow oneself to be carried away in
a daydream of complete indulgence and sweetness to write poetry for the sake of
Humanity and no other.
Yes, I could get poetic yet I’m only good at English
poetry plus let’s not complicate matters any further until I’ve had serious
consideration as to what I’d like to specifically write to another.
Please, understand that I’m not the best writer.
Yes, it’s true.
However, I make for a great and excellent and masterful…
*****
The only
reason I’d force myself to get a Ph.D. is so that I’d go in search of a
teaching position (anywhere in the world, most likely Italy or France) in which
I’d teach English speaking Ph.D. students in their last year of their Ph.D.
program before their publication either in English Literature or in Theoretical
Film Studies or Film History or Film Critique for such students to become Film
Critics of their own hometown or city newspapers and be great as Film Critics
while supporting and sustaining a vital service to their public in all
civilized endeavors and artistic matters.
Publically: Good taste is rare; Excellent taste is hard
to come by and masters are seldom, far, few and in between so to be taught and
to carry out excellent critique skills or critical analytical skills as well as
conduct oneself with the essence of civility and Ut-most humility is all that a
critic really needs once he or she completes through his or her entire Ph.D.
work studies program then the sky’s the limit ‘with a few great many’ variations and no exception.
Yes,
ultimately I understand that owning or conducting or administrating one’s own
“personal” website about weight loss programs or raw feelings and emotion
doesn’t ultimately contribute to the internet’s overall value, however.
Independent and professional and literary and artistic
blogs and websites do contribute to the overall internet’s value because such
articulate websites are done in a manner in which study and research and
discovery and development and exploration is of the essence.
This cyberspace is new frontier especially for those of
us cyberspace literary and artistic astronauts who didn’t even dream that this
type of cyberspace and age exploration or medium would be cohesively
established within our young adult lives for us to change the course of the
future to make wiser and better decisions than we ever have thus far.
Wow!
Think about it.
This cyberspace type
of word processing hasn’t ever been done before in the history of record
keeping. Never.
Not once except in some Ancient writer’s dream. A word
processor is like no other to any philosopher or poet or writer or thinker.
Excuse us, while we take up a little bit of room.
Excuse us, while we stand on our little bit of Earth.
Please, don’t throw any beer bottles at us.
We’re passing through time to catch a glimpse of you.
We’re passing through to get a quick picture.
No need for verbal or physical violence.
Thanks.
What
would the world be like today if the library at Alexandria hadn’t ever burned
down and all of the records were still accounted for today?
What if?
Imagine how much more developed our way of thinking would
be?
Imagine how we’d be more open-minded, however.
Since vastly amounts of human written recorded history
went up in smoke then all that we can do now is write as cohesively about our
human condition as much as possible so that we might gift our wisdom to future
generations two thousand and four thousand and six thousand years from today.
Thank you.
Good Morning: It’s already 7:42 A.M.
Friday, October 3, 2014
“The
dog who barks “ho-ho” is not dangerous;
the
one who growls “how-how” is.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Pathological (concerned with the science of treating diseases)
He spent a great deal of time in the pathological
laboratory.
--- --- ---
Hello.
My First Love
Written Words
Yes, I
write sober for the sake of readers because when I stop long enough to consider
Mr. Hemingway’s literary pieces then I revel at his genius.
Yes, I’m
astounded that Mr. Earnest Hemingway had the undeniable ability in his
extraordinary literary capacity to write while under the heavy influence of
alcohol because if I were to write under the influence of half a glass of wine
then nothing would make sense.
Mr. Hemingway must have been a super genius.
As for Mr. William S. Burroughs, what’s there say?
Well, we shan’t go there because there isn’t enough time.
The
extraordinary genius of literary men and women who could write while under the
influence of anything mind altering must either be a fluke or a gift from the
Gods or some miracle from above because
for those of us who are multi-lingual
and do translate everything back into English that’s considered one great
remarkable feat of heroism or something astonishing.
Native
English writers don’t write sentences either as short or as simplistic as the
following example:
“Yesterday
a handsome stranger widely smiled at me.”
“We
didn’t make direct eye contact.”
“We had
a moment between us.”
“No
longer could I contain a smile that it spilled all over.”
“The
End.”
“I drove
away.”
When my
runoff sentences are either jumbled or scrambled eggs then it’s either because
I’m exhausted or in pain or nothing much successfully translated.
Aside from fifteen years of a continual painful sore
throat and the beginning of a new rasp inside my vocal chords and the fact that
I can now directly and gently touch with my pointer finger and physically feel
cysts on either side of my thyroid gland, I feel great and strong and healthy.
I feel
vitally suitable for life’s adventures and responsibilities, however.
At the
end of long work days my English as a Second Language suffers and comes across
more as jumbled than cohesive because either I’m, too, exhausted or such
complex thought process doesn’t properly translate or simply I wish for the
work day to be done so that I may revert back to thinking in Spanish (which
isn’t my first language) so that I might relax and catch a long and needed
break from pushing myself to speak only English all day long as a courtesy and
for the benefit of those who speak English and no other languages.
One more important point: When I write scrabbled egg sentences then it’s because
I’ve hurried.
I can
only either write or edit except I can’t simultaneously do both because I’m not
Mr. Kurt Vonnegut who could edit while he wrote and not ever have to go back
and reedit his work. (Awesome.)
Yes, I
must either get thoughts down on paper and then I later go back and make
further edits, however.
It’s almost nearly impossible for me to write and edit at
the same time because that complex type of thought process requires a
sustainable amount of natural English speaking concentration that I don’t seem
to poses.
Yes, it’s a disappointment that I don’t seem to be able
to write and edit at the same time because my less than genius thought process
is much slower than native English speakers.
My multilingual thought process takes twice the time to
get the same amount of work done as other native English writers and speakers
and it’s obvious.
In other words: If one were to study my
structured paragraphs then one would come to understand and realize that some
complex thought process did take place however my English written language
doesn’t always get executed in an articulate manner.
Either I’m capable enough to go back to the writing and
make corrections or make some articulated sense out of the jumbled written mess
or just leave it as it is and have the entire world see my raw thought process
as it went down on the page which can be a positive thing because then it
causes native English speakers to stop if only for a moment and contemplate
however difficult English truly is to most foreign speakers.
To write
English is to touch heavenly skies.
To write
cohesive English is some divine will of the Gods.
To edit
English is a sweetest dream.
To write
English well is to master it.
To
master English is to…
When any
English reader reads English as a Second Language speaker write down their
foreign scrambled egg sentences then English readers can empathize with any
foreign writer because foreigner’s
writing comes close yet not close enough for the words to make sense out of
an entire mental picture inside the mind of any foreign thinking writer and
what that particular writer so much wished and tried to convey to another
existing entity or contemporary for that matter.
Another quick example: Written words are
no different than musically written notes on sheet music because ultimately
cohesiveness must be held up by gravitational force otherwise music doesn’t much make any sense either when it’s all
scrambled and nonsensical or when it sounds like tossed salad all over a
musicians face.
*****
Native
English speakers don’t realize how lucky they are to have learned how to harness
their English language proficiency skills early on in their lives while their
brains developed while they were young children and fresh and capable of
deciphering through a most jumbled English language.
Yes, I do think faster than I write.
It’s quite difficult to write down all of my thoughts
while I type.
Sometimes, my fingers don’t seem to keep up with my
thoughts so all I can do from losing valuable ideas is to write them down as
quickly as possible with a strong possibility that such words might turn into a
strong North Easterly wind off of the Ocean and turn into blinding blizzard
conditions with no visibility in sight.
My
Father tells me that most likely I’ll continue to be ten years behind my
contemporaries because the first time that I ever learned to speak or write or
read English was at the age of ten and nothing can change that.
By the time I was in sixth grade many of my equals
already held a deep comprehensive ability to speak and write and read English
at a senior in college and they did it ever so effortlessly and beautifully
while I struggled with grammar and still do.
Yes, I’m not a perfect human.
If only I could write and edit at the same time.
I can only hope to accomplish such a feat of heroism when
I concentrate real hard otherwise my paragraphs could all go unchecked and
nonsensical, however.
I do make it a real point to come back the next day and
reedit because it’s only any true writer’s wish to establish sense and order
before ever closing the archives forever.
Writing is cerebral muscle.
Editing is civilized refinement.
To write English well is difficult to do.
Peace.
Wishing you a relaxed weekend.
Truly Yours;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 1,452 or 2,500 for a 1,000 word surplus.
Word Count: 1,538
Total week’s Word Count: 10,085
As of today there won’t be a surplus once I write 1,452
words.
Hopefully, today I’ll write 2,000 or more words so that I
might have a surplus going into next week since we’ll have guests visit here.
*) Day #223
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #8
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
Notes:
*) We give
“Star Wars Rebels” five (5) stars. Amazing.
*) “Scorpion”
is so cool and based on a real life story. Wow!
*) Personally,
I give “Alter Eco” 60% Cocoa // Organically Grown // Fairly Traded // “Cauba”
// Dark Twist Chocolate five (5) stars.
Actually, last night I mentioned to Eric that that
particular chocolate bar that I ate was the best chocolate I’d ever tasted.
Yes, I’ve made my way through life tasting worldwide
chocolates because it’s my favorite food to eat although in small quantities
only.
No, I’m not an official expert on chocolate, however.
I know my coffees and chocolates.
*) Yes, I’ve
gone on a moratorium with Twin Cities’ commercial coffee because most coffee
shops’ coffee tastes like cigar burned coffee.
How can anybody ruin cappuccino?
It’s a disgrace to ruin cappuccino.
Simply I can’t justify drinking expensive cigar burned
coffee any longer.
I’ll come back to it again next fall 2015.
For now, I’m sticking close to home and making my own
brew because I make coffee just right. I do. Not because I think so. More so
precisely because other people tell me so and the same goes for my homemade
baked breads.
No, I don’t think I’m the best organic, no sugar,
non-genetically modified homemade bread baker, however. Others tell me that my
bread is “top notch.” Thank you. It’s taken five years to perfect my recipes.
In my youth I worked as a professional barista (for some
years).
I was taught to make an excellent cup of coffee because
it’s a science plus I’m Costa Rican and we pride ourselves on good coffee beans
because it’s our national gross product along with bananas.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
“One
recognizes the chick by its pecking.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of
Jewish Quotations)
Paucity
(scarcity, small numbers, fewness)
The paucity of his vocabulary was evident in his
compositions.
--- --- ---
Hello.
Park Point
Dissonance
2014
No, I shan’t
fight my Father’s battles, however.
Yes, I
do hold strong opinions about respect in general.
No, my
Father is neither a “spy” nor an “asshole” nor on anybody else’s side.
My Father is a retired M.D. psychologist volunteering his
time to ensure the mental safety and health and cooperation of a mostly
entirely angry divided neighborhood community that can’t seem to even so much
as conduct itself with public respectful stature or maturity or decency to hear
out the other side no matter how much they might disagree.
As difficult as it’s been for everyone involved within
the past few recent months my Father did indeed establish peaceful negotiations
within the unrest and divided and disrespectful verbal disorderly misconduct of
mostly an entire community that doesn’t seem to be mature enough to agree to disagree.
(Careful, the moment one steps outside their front door
then the entire world’s watching to see if they’re capable of treating others
with respect and adult mature function.)
Who’s my
Father to be in such a position of authority?
My Father is an individual expert in the science of human
nature.
My Father has serious credentials plus forty years of
experience as a professional in his field of expertise dealing with mass
murderers and rapists and prostitutes and thieves and liars and crooks and
sociopaths and psychopaths and bi-polar and schizophrenic and displaced peoples
from all over the world.
My Father has the power to place people in mental
institutions so I wouldn’t go around calling him an “asshole” to his face or
behind his back because violence and gossip are signs of mental…
My
Father was officially invited by a neighborhood committee to help out with the
dire unrest of a single neighborhood community and for that my Father shouldn’t
have to deal with the abuse or harassment of others living in that same village
(as he does) just because others don’t have the necessary skills to communicate
with respect or decency or to state their wishes without having to directly
call others derogatory names or get personal.
Who does anybody think they really are?
Do people really
believe that they’re their ego? (I don’t think so.)
Sit up and pay attention.
If one doesn’t have anything worthwhile to contribute
then be quiet and listen and pay attention.
Class begins right now.
*****
There’re
strict and serious rules of conduct while attending or speaking at any
neighborhood community meeting otherwise ‘go jump in the lake’ and breathe and think
and contemplate before one speaks. (Only spoilt children go off half cocked.)
A community neighborhood meeting isn’t the same as
spending time with one’s buddies or online chatting away with strangers or
getting drunk and mouthing off at a family reunion. No.
When one attends any neighborhood community meetings then
people better mind their “P’s” and “Q’s” and step up their game or “Go Home!”
There’re
strict and serious rules of conduct as to how to speak and treat others with
respect while under pressure especially when two sides don’t see ‘eye-to-eye’
or don’t agree or don’t even so much as know how to speak to one another about
their differences.
A community neighborhood meeting is neither a church
revival meeting where one clubbers another over the head with a bible and
wishes for the abused to agree with a religious fanatic just because the abused
is incapacitated or delirious and can’t see straight. No.
A community neighborhood meeting is neither a drunken
fraternity party in which anyone ever so
slightly different in dress or thought or ideals gets shut down by boys
with an I.Q. of frozen peas. No.
A community neighborhood meeting isn’t one’s private
living room in which one gets to scream at the television set while prancing about
in their underwear. No.
A community neighborhood meeting isn’t an open bar brawl
in which swear words are thrown around as loosely as punches nor is a
neighborhood community meeting a place in which one makes personal attacks
against another simply and only because one lacks the articulation to state
what they want or need. No.
A community neighborhood meeting isn’t a place where one
looses their cool simply and only because one can’t find the words to persuade
others to their way of thinking. No.
(Please, learn to use your words, unless someone’s really
going out of their way to mentally fuck with you then it’s a different type of
war all together because then ‘all’s fair in love and war,’ however, not at a
community neighborhood meeting.)
There’re
strict and serious rules of conduct when it comes to neighborhood community
meetings and one of those serious and strict rules is to not ever call another
individual or group any derogatory name to their face or behind their back.
To call anyone a derogatory name without any justifiable
means to such verbal misbehavior is to become a perpetrator and grounds for a
harassment lawsuit.
To get personal on anybody without any justifiable means
is to be a bully and only a bully or a harasser or perpetrator takes out their
unwarranted anger or spite upon innocent bystanders.
There’re
strict and serious rules of conduct while attending or speaking at any
neighborhood community meeting because to stand up in public and make one’s thoughts
clearly be known about any community issue is to bestow others of one’s wisdom
and loving care for an entire village and not just one’s ideals of personal
gain.
One doesn’t attend any public community neighborhood
meeting to bash others with their brash ideals simply and only because they
feel insecure or inadequate or without any real solutions to further unify
people rather than to divide them.
If one
doesn’t have anything important to say then don’t say anything at all.
If one
doesn’t have any wisdom to bestow then stay seated.
If one
hates their neighbors so much as to call them derogatory names then an entire
committee ought to ask you to please leave and try it again at the next
meeting.
If one
so much as thinks that they can openly and publically abuse others then they’re
gravely mistaken because the 1980’s are long gone.
If one’s
looking for a bruising then one will find it.
*****
To
gossip is to murder. (Look it up in the bible.)
One
better get their facts straight.
If one so much as wishes to set fire to an entire village
by dividing and conquering them then go ahead and poison the drinking well,
however, the Gods don’t look favorably upon murdering gossips.
To purposely misguide or mislead or misdirect others
through gossip or misinformation is to poison the well of knowledge and also to
destroy any chances of bridging troubled waters.
Do you
know what used to happen to prophets when their prophecies didn’t come true?
When prophets’ prophecies didn’t come true then entire
villages stoned their prophets to death because words do matter therefore use
words seldom and wisely especially amongst strangers and in public.
If you do use a lot of words then those very words better
make sense and such words better be wise and good and ready to enlighten others
and not clubber people over the head just because one feels lazy in their
verbal capacity to articulate or too angry to make beautiful and meaningful
messages out of words.
Neither manipulate golden words because others can see
right through that convoluted spectacle.
Words
are powerful.
Action
is powerful.
Words do
matter because words are no different than daggers or stones or bridges or
fountains.
Words
can be used as weapons or in friendship.
When
words are unnecessarily used as weapons then you better be psychologically or
physically self defending your person from an attacker or an abuser or a
manipulator or a savage wild beast otherwise pay no heed to mentally ill and
deluded selfish individuals who use others for their personal gain.
Words
ought to be beautifully spoken for the sake of others.
Words
ought to be beautifully delivered for the sake of others.
Words
can be a token of friendship savored and privately guarded like a locked heart.
*****
Before
ever attending a neighborhood community meeting please brush one’s teeth.
Before
ever attending a neighborhood community meeting please change into a clean
shirt.
Before ever
attending a neighborhood community meeting please drink one complete glass of
water.
Before
ever attending a neighborhood community meeting please take in a few deep
breaths.
Before
ever attending a neighborhood community meeting please hold everyone with
highest regard.
Before
ever attending a neighborhood community meeting please ‘put your best foot
forward.’
Remember
that people deal with terrible and tremendous reoccurring physical illnesses
and financial difficulties and many bury their dead throughout the years or
they move or people greatly suffer or are mentally ill thus it’s any mature
adult’s responsibility to keep public spaces kosher and respectful for the sake
of entire villages as well as strangers.
Remember
to arrive early and greet others as though they were the last people alive on
Earth and believe that they have your best interest in mind as you do theirs.
Please,
don’t hurt each other.
Please,
don’t abuse each other.
Please,
find it in your hearts to respect each other no matter how difficult it may be
to state your truth.
Please,
do unto others as only you would have them do unto you.
Please.
My
Father isn’t anyone’s emotional punching bag.
My
Father’s a man and a respectable one at that.
My Father’s
a volunteer and there’s no higher honor or position than that. There isn’t.
*****
Who am I
to write as such?
I’m my
Father’s Daughter.
As of
today my Father informed me that I no longer need any further credentials to
state my peace.
Today I was anointed as a “real” writer by my Father.
Okay.
My Father has no clue that I just wrote this piece.
As a matter of fact my Father’s not once or ever read
this blog. I’m worthy as I am with or without a Ph.D. or any further
credentials. Thank goodness for that because school’s a prison to me and an
expensive prison at that.
Who am I
to write as such?
I’m
someone who takes the time to care enough to breathe words onto this page for
your sakes more so than mine.
Yes, I
might be one of you however, I’m not like you.
I’m one
descendant of Two Harbor’s farming pioneers who established Park Point with
their bare hands and strong hope for future generations to get along and to
ensure that the corrupt city didn’t make Park Point it’s “tourist trap” whore
simply and only because the city doesn’t have any real intelligent leadership
that can generate any real money
other than gimmicks.
It’s too bad I left that city due to malicious gossip and
alcoholic users otherwise I’d be banking it for that city as I am today for the
Twin Cities because it’s men and women with any presence of mind that draw
others to any place worth a visit or dwelling.
If we lived anywhere else in the world then that would be
the “it” place to be because intelligence and smarts and kindness are as cool
as it gets and we all know that.
It’s not every day that you get a future Mr. Kurt
Vonnegut walking around your city, gathering ideas for novels or someone who
makes a real great and honest ‘go at it’ when it comes to this bloody writing
craft, no matter how English as a Second Language he might be.
A cool leader is just that: Cool under pressure and
willing ‘to go out on a limb’ for others because he believes in the vitality
and survival of his village.
It’s people who make a place.
The more one contributes then the more that particular
individual or individuals are sought after.
It’s the law of attraction.
One for all and all for one.
With All My Respect;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 1,491
Word Count: 2,039
*) Day #222
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #7
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
“A
dog without teeth is no longer a dog.”
(Leo Rosten’s Treasury of Jewish
Quotations)
Idiosyncrasy (a peculiarity, an eccentricity, mannerism)
His idiosyncrasy in dress was well known in the
city.
--- --- ---
Hello.
Happy Breast Cancer Awareness Month 2014!
Happy Hong Kong peaceful demonstrations!
Hong Kong is so cool!
We’re behind you all the way Hong Kong.
Free Tibet!
Free Tibet!
Free Tibet!
EBOLA
2014
Yes, our
Muslim adopted sister, her entire family reside and work and entertain an
entire Islamic lifestyle in gorgeous Sierra Leone.
Our thoughts
and prayers go out to the nation of Sierra Leone and the rest of the specific
and particular African countries along the western seacoast while they manage
this disheartening episode of Ebola.
No, I’m
not any type of expert on any disease.
Especially
not about Ebola, however.
From the
countless messages we’ve received from abroad it’s been clearly conveyed to us
that there’s nothing to worry about when it comes to this deadly Ebola outbreak
especially not in the United States of America because the way America handle
our dead is ever so much more differently done in America than it is in Africa.
Much of
our immediate American news reporting that
which goes on about Ebola or any other subject for that matter is either
mishandled or misleading or made into “fear mongering” because it’s easier to
instill fear into the hearts of people rather than to educate them about
anything at all.
The
greatest detail left out in American news reports about the subject of Ebola is
that one of the main reasons as to why Ebola has become ever so prevalent a
disease (illness) in Africa’s western seacoast is due to Africa’s burial
rituals.
Many of Africa’s western seacoast burial rituals have to
do with open air cremations of their deceased (dead).
In other words: According to some or
many of Africa’s western seacoast burial rituals of any late-departed beloved
body must be publically cremated (publically burned) in front of entire villages for all to witness otherwise those very
individuals who refuse such burial rites for their Ebola ridden dead will
indeed become ostracized and shamed by their entire village and that’s not
something that individuals can afford to do when their entire survival depends
on the stability and unity of an intact village.
Mainly for Americans it’s difficult to understand either
totally or completely ostracized by an entire group because we’ve got that
“Marlboro Man” rogue individualist attitude and mentality that we can and will
‘go it alone’ so like if we care what anybody else might think of us.
It’s not an easy cultural concept (a united village: that is) for other more western nations
to understand when western ideology is centered on the fragmentation of an
individual away from a group rather than the unification of a village.
Nations (such as Africa’s) with their village modern mode
of operation and a lifestyle that’s strongly centered upon the basis of what an
entire village considers proper social codes in etiquette is what’s made
suitable for any individual to follow such very codes which standards must be
maintained by entire villages otherwise their way of life might perish and
that’s not anything that anybody can ever afford to do.
Thus
many African western seacoast burial rituals are done openly for all to
publically witness the passing of their very own villager.
Makes sense, however.
When it comes to handling Ebola ridden dead bodies then
we’re talking another entirely different cultural ball game.
We’re talking a deadly game of life or possibly contaminated
life or survival or eminent disastrous death.
When it comes to Ebola ridden dead bodies then the
chances of spread and contamination exponentially goes way up and that’s not
something that any wise village Elder or Council can afford to do to possibly
get their hands bloodied with the ever more compounded death and heartbreak
than need be.
Indeed,
it’s difficult to change our way of thinking when it comes to any deeply
indoctrinated cultural practices or rituals.
*****
Difficult example: Look at what happened
to the “Marlboro Man.”
The “Marlboro Man” (a photographed billboard and
television model for one particular tobacco company) died an ever more
complicated and difficult and painful battle with lung cancer yet there he was
photographed riding his horse off into the sunset of opportunity as a symbol of
strong independent and robust manly manliness then he died a most unnecessary
lonely lung cancer death.
So you see the moral tale of the “Marlboro Man’s”
debilitating message is that he was considered “right” and rouge and handsome
(by some standards) and a “Wild Wild West” fellow with lung cancer who possibly
influenced an entire three generations of Americans to follow him in his
footsteps to their lung cancer ridden death because ‘no one’ was willing to
change their attitude towards a deadly mass cultural practice or ritual of
smoking cigarettes.
It’s quite simply difficult to change cultural outlook
especially when it’s deadly because stubbornness sets deeply inside the bones
and festers there like a disease all of its own.
One of
the most deadly of American practices right now is that our youth from ages
thirteen through seventeen (13-17) hate cigarette smoke yet they’ve fallen
victim and in love with snorting heroin up their nose thus they snort heroin
like it were candy because they hate the idea of smoking “dirty” cigarettes or
smelling like cigarette smoke, however.
A cigarette may just kill one slowly over a long period
of many decades (a slow death like most healthy life is) while heroin will take
out an entire generation (or two or three) of youth by their mid-to-late
twenties.
Entire two or three generations of our American youth
will most likely be dead by the time they’ve reached twenty-five.
They’ll leave a gaping wound and large hole in the heart
of our nation for us to mourn over our beloved loss.
Our
youth (those who love heroin) most likely shan’t grow up to see their old age
because no heroin addict is ever just a weekend addict.
There’re many hobbyist cigarette smokers who can and do
smoke at least one cigarette per week and be done with it, however, with heroin
once it grabs a foothold in the soul of an individual then such an addiction is
strong and mostly for life.
Heroin isn’t something that someone does just once or
once-in-a great while. Heroin’s a lifestyle.
Ask any heroin addict and they’ll tell you that all they
think about is heroin all day and all night long.
Heroin becomes an addict’s entire life and nothing else matters.
Not even
if death were to take a human form and go knock upon the door of a heroin
addict would that make any difference.
Not even death itself could scare an addict completely
enough to get an addict to stop their addictive impulse to continue to kill
themselves in a rapid succession.
American youth seem to have absolutely no hope for the
future so they figure that they might as well die young because who cares?
Wrong. American adults care very much.
Heroin is one of those ghostly cultural practices that
grabs a strong hold of an addict and sucks the very life out of them until an
addict has no more strength to return from the land of the dead.
*****
Yes, I
can understand not wanting to change intensely instilled cultural rituals
especially those that are deeply centered around the burial of Africa’s beloved
dead, however, when dealing with life threatening obstacles and challenges such
as Ebola then we must change if only for a little while to give life a chance.
This Ebola outbreak can be contained if only our African
Elders and villagers took into consideration another course of action towards
the burial of their Ebola ridden deceased.
Ebola can possibly become a menace to overcome, however,
why not contain this Ebola spread now by changing African cultural burial
practices (if only for a little while) rather than implementing such a gruesome
death upon the rest of the world?
Not to change is to beckon for death to come to Africa’s
door.
To beckon death is only to say that…
Yes, when patients have passed on or died from Ebola then
the bodies or corpses of the Ebola ridden dead are infected with Ebola and
nothing can stop that therefore it’s best for the Ebola ridden dead corpses to
be handled or treated medically differently than they would be if they weren’t
already otherwise infected with Ebola.
Africa
will do whatever it wishes and believes is best for them to do no differently
than America does whatever it wishes and believes best for America to do thus
our government allows for the CIA to infest our streets with Afghanistan’s
poppy seed (heroin) which has become a fixture and fully indoctrinated itself
deep inside the bones and homes of suburban white youth ages 13-17.
Africa
will do whatever it must to maintain cultural standards and to continue with
their traditional cultural methods, however, not at the expense of their very
own people because it would be cruel to stay stubborn for the sake of rituals
rather than for the continual and healthy life of their people’s.
I can only imagine village Elders are wise and understand
the complex gravitas of their situation thus they must come to a general
consensus that when in difficult times then extreme measures must be taken for
the sake and consideration of an entire ‘dark’ continent of beautiful people.
Wouldn’t it be devastating to see another three thousand
Africans ‘go up in smoke’ only and because village Elders refuse to momentarily
change burial rituals for the survival of Africa’s beautiful humanity.
Wouldn’t it be devastating to see an entire generation of
American youth ‘go up in smoke’ only and because village Elders refuse to adapt
with the times and make drugs legal for the survival of America.
With All My Love;
Gabriel
Word Count Goal: 1,274
Word Count: 1,783
*) Day #221
without sugar: It’s alright. I like it.
*) Day #6
without a cigarette: It’s alright. I like it.
Note:
Yes, it wasn’t until last night Tuesday, September 30,
2014 that we sat down to watch Bill Maher’s last Friday night’s episode. I wrote
yesterday’s blog entry without knowing anything about what Mr. Maher’s content
or what it was all about. Great minds
think alike.
--- --- ---
Oh,
how I love the month of October when all of the beautiful pink little lights
are put on display to show our solidarity in our fight against breast cancer in
this great nation of ours.
Yes,
I’m glad to say that I’m a cancer survivor.
Yes,
men, too, can get breast cancer so check out those beautiful men breasts and
make sure that you study and know your body well.