Socioparasites and Other Nasty Pests

It's not a happy wake up....but it's probably a wake up somewhat long overdue.....

I don't stand atop some lofty mountain spewing out wisdom....but when you've been where I've been, seen what I've seen and done what I've done, and lived to tell about it...maybe you know just a little bit more than the younger generation.  

I'm kinda pissed.  Kinda really pissed....and sick to death of drama, whiny-azz bullshit and overall malaise at developing any kind of work ethic...and it's not just ONE person, it's like a whole multi-generational kind of thing that makes me want to pound my head on my stainless steel work table until it rolls off my neck.  Maybe it's just my particular place of employ, or maybe not...(kinda leaning towards the later). 

Maybe I'm just upset that no matter how hard I try, no matter how reliable I am, no matter how dedicated I am to making improvements related to my job....no matter....it all falls on deaf ears and blind eyes and despite all my rage, I truly am just a rat in a cage....

Mainly, because these things I know: 

• The haters...they are ALWAYS gonna hate.  No matter what, no matter who, they just hate. 
• A warm, breathing, even non-working, body is better than nobody at all, right?  
• The work I do, the money I make, the people I draw in....doesn't serve to line my pockets and it never will until the day when I'm in business for myself.  
• Being reliable is NOT a job requirement. Being conscientious? Also not a requirement. Nor is attention to detail, following simple, clearly outlined directions or listening to reason.  

I am flummoxed by people in positions of authority who will not address serious personnel issues. I don't want lip service...I want results. I want others to care as much as I do, but clearly that will never happen. So, I can either join the masses of other life-sucking rats and just be a body....or I can make a difference in my OWN life and keep searching for greener, more honest pastures. 

I should not, after giving and giving and giving, get so much grief when I fall ill.  I don't PLAN to fall ill, I don't plan for my health to fail occasionally and I do not ENJOY calling off. However, at this late date in life, you can punish me all you want with all manner of points and write ups.....but it will NEVER make me put myself on the back burner.  Instead, when it comes time for reprimand, I will show up with doctor notes and the other necessary accouterments to prove that I was indeed not well, and that I did, indeed, attempt to handle such a situation responsibly. Shit does happen....and if adjustments can be made for someone so they can go to a high school prom, or people can call off because they get a "dent" in their giganormous leg or call off because they can't handle being told the truth, then, I would THINK that someone who shows up regularly, rarely ever calls in sick (but does, when she is too sick because working around food and being sick is just stupid) warrants a bit of leeway and understanding.  

Then again, rat...meet wheel. Wheel inside cage. 

Just. Sayin'. 

The Unbearable Lightness of Not Being Anymore

The world is a much lesser place without you, Mr. Steele.

Nothing is the same in the world of music. Somethings are completely and utterly irreplaceable. The sound, the fury, and the energy is gone. People like me are truly deprived without it. 

I hope that your soul carries on, wherever you've gone. 

<3 

Looking You Right in the Face

What better place than here, what better time than now?  

So yeah, I KNOW, it's been AGES! Forgive me. I was at a loss for words. I didn't know what to say.  

Until now. 

So, I get up this morning at 1:30 am-ish.....because Mr. Lennon is screaming in my head....'and we all shine on....' 

Then, after a brief snafu with the coffee maker, I, of course, sat down to check out Facebook.  It's how I wake up. Memes and such.   I'm also not afraid to admit that I play very inane, stupid games on The Book O' Faces.  It's how I keep my mind so very wry and acute....with puzzle games.  Deal.  What comes along with playing these games?  Adding complete strangers to your friend lists so you can do stupid things like advance to other levels and what not.....and sometimes these complete strangers post things that you see in your newsfeed.  

So goes this morning, when a stranger-friend started posted all manner of gobbledygook which led me to believe that he either had several wayward cats or small childerbeasts attacking his keyboard  or he was drunk-typing at this very odd hour of the morning.  But then, the messages kept coming, interspersed with that tiny, yet so important word called "help".  My heart kind of sunk.  Because, admit it, you just never know if something is real or a bunch of wolf-crying when it comes to social media.  We live in a desensitized world, unfortunately.  

But, the messages kept coming, as did comments from other people on his very lengthy list of friends. Comments of concern..interspersed with more cryptic and yet sometimes coherent comments from this person.  Finally, someone, somewhere found his address, he confirmed it and they called for help.  I still don't know what's going on or what's exactly wrong with him, but the first conclusion most of us came to is 'Stroke'.  

Strokes are horrific, insipid beasts that can attack suddenly or over the course of an entire day. I know this because my mom had a stroke, and it wasn't until the actual visual, physical signs took hold (the sagging muscles on one side of the face, and the increasingly slurred speech...).  I cannot fathom how utterly frightening it must be to be the one HAVING the stroke...to lose the ability to communicate and to be trapped both physically and mentally.  

So, it occurs to me, here, alone in my kitchen at 3:14 am....that we shouldn't wait for someone to form a National campaign or some sort of Public Service announcement, to start educating ourselfs on how to help people, when we are several states away and without any pertinent information.  In person, it's easy to recognize the signs of an impending health crisis. Online, not so much.  Therefore, here are some things I believe it would be prudent to consider when dealing with your online world and the people within: 

1.  Everyone's a stranger online....but we also communicate and form this vastly blind yet strangely close community when we want to.....Facebook, Twitter, wherever you land and talk, you form connections. So, be connected. 

2. If you take part in the world via internet....and form even seemingly trivial 'friendships' or acquaintances online, and you are someone who is alone in the "real" world, then take the time to find at least ONE or TWO people that you can trust and share with them some method of contact, be it a telephone number or address or preferably both.  I'm not saying post your info everywhere you go, but if you go somewhere every day without fail, and encounter the same people, you'll eventually find individuals who are trustworthy enough to hold your info for safekeeping.  

3.  Don't use the words "help" or "help me" unless you really, really need HELP in that moment.  If you are able to do so, and you do need help, but you cannot get to phone, or remember how to use a phone (in the case of a stroke, etc.), and you CAN remember this, then type "Call 911".  This way, anyone who DOES have your information will know it's not a joke and they can act to get you help.  

This person did what he could at the moment he did it because he needed help. Doesn't it behoove us, as human beings with souls and consciences, to do whatever we can to help someone when someone is in need?  It's all too easy to disconnect and put on our filtered tin-foil helmets and pretend that everyone that we encounter MUST have someone with them, when in fact, that's not ever always going to be the case.  

If you can't be there in person, be there in mind.......and as Mr. Lennon put it...: 

Better recognize your brothers

Ev'ryone you meet

Why in the world are we here

Surely not to live in pain and fear

Shine on.  

I Still Was A Madman

Thanks to a friend on FB, now there is this...stuck on loop....

Funny story about this song...well, probably not funny, but yeah....

The first time I ever heard it was at the end of this movie: 

I was all of about 9 years old. My aunt used to take me to movies at least once a month, probably more. I always got to see the cool movies and shows when I hung out with her. Anywhooooo, I think this was probably the first time my young, impressionable mind ever got acquainted with the idea that someone on TV was NOT living inside the television, but could also move to the big screen at will.  Henry Winkler was no longer walking around with his hair slicked back and his thumbs waving in the air. And clearly, I don't even remember that Harrison Ford was also making his way through the universe with a fuzzy counterpart and two less-than-technologically advanced robots. Ah, to be young and ignorant again.  

Watching "Heroes" was also probably the first time I had witnessed a character that was clearly there, or getting to losing his mind. Thusly, I remember vividly the fact that he carried around a worm farm in a shoe box. 

All too often, I feel like I'm masquerading with a reason. Like my existence actually means something. I guess it's what gets me up and keeps me going. Whatever it takes, right? But then, on the flip side, I sit and ponder just what the fuck the point is of all this mess we call life. I think my charade includes focusing on the little, menial, unimportant events of any given day just so I can pretend that maybe life won't come to an end without me having ever accomplished anything other than just surviving. 

I don't want to exist without ever having done SOMETHING that matters. I guess I just haven't quite figured out yet what I can do that WILL matter....what WILL make a difference. For now, I just keep carrying on and hoping that there really will be peace when I am done. Que Sera, Sera, eh?  

Carry On My Wayward Son

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

Once I rose above the noise and confusion

Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion

I was soaring ever higher

But I flew too high

Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man

Though my mind could think I still was a mad man

I hear the voices when I'm dreaming

I can hear them say

Masquerading as a man with a reason

My charade is the event of the season

And if I claim to be a wise man, well

It surely means that I don't know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion

Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean

I set a course for winds of fortune

But I hear the voices say

No!

Carry on, you will always remember

Carry on, nothing equals the splendor

Now your life's no longer empty

Surely heaven waits for you

Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry, don’t you cry no more… no more

Cellar Doors and Damage Plans

Of course, it's been a while. I'm nothing if not persistent in my pursuit of delaying the inevitable. I can't even tell you when last I wrote and I'm not looking because then I'd get back to that delay tactic.  Adapt or die, eh?  

So, I wake up to this going through my brain. I'm not a HUGE Neil Young fan, but this, I believe, is one of his masterpieces. That and it's got the phrase "Cellar Door". And only because I'm a HUGE Donnie Darko fiend, do I care about such a phrase. 

So many things have happened during my time away. Yet, I'm always looking for ways to forget about the things that are most troubling. The master of deceiving myself.  A form of survival, I suppose. Guess that's why the song applies. We're all junkies for something. Doesn't have to be a drug.....pick something. Pick anything. No matter the object, there's a junkie for it, out there somewhere.  

Pick your poison. Whatever gets you through the day, right? Not necessarily. More like, whatever helps you pretend like everything is ok, always has been and always will be. Keeps us comfortable. Keeps us numb. Keeps us from fighting tooth and nail to get to where we want to be. 

Sorry if I'm being a bit cryptic. The stories are too long to tell. Just want to bring to light the observation that the only way to throw away the needle is to get up and move past it. Let it keep knocking. Just don't answer the cellar door. 

This may signify my return....or maybe it's just a fleeting fancy. Won't know til tomorrow. xo 

Needle and the Damage Done

I caught you knockin' at my cellar door 

I love you, baby, can I have some more 

Ooh, ooh, the damage done. 

I hit the city and I lost my band 

I watched the needle take another man 

Gone, gone, the damage done. 

I sing the song because I love the man 

I know that some of you don't understand

Milk-blood to keep from running out. 

I've seen the needle and the damage done 

A little part of it in everyone 

But every junkie's like a settin' sun.

Rachmaninov, Anorexia and Abandoned Pianos

So, it's been a while. I know. I slacked. It's what I do sometimes, when life gets in the way and wants my full attention. That, or something distracts me. Nothing much newsworthy has occurred, except for learning new roles at work and trying, for the life of me, to get my garden going. In fact, GOING to the nursery today to pick up some plant life and start digging in. (Since I first started the draft of this post, the garden has become a faded memory....to be revived next year)....

Meanwhile, back at the unplanted ranch, lately, the urge to watch this again 

had become overwhelming, and so I ordered it. Having only watched it once before, not too long after it was released for home viewing, I hardly remembered much of it. I know it was the first time I saw Geoffrey Rush act. Amazing work. 

Even more amazing....David Helfgott. Watching the movie only gives you the Hollywood version of his troubled youth and the high price of perfection. I would probably never have known about this man had it not been for that movie. And if not for watching this movie again with my beloved, I probably would not have known about the existence of this masterpiece...

Kind of makes me wish I'd not have given up on my music. Alas, I never had the drive or the parental units that would push me to the brink in order to achieve such perfection at any cost. Fortunately? Who knows. Would I be where Tori Amos is....off in the ethereal stratosphere creating all kinds of earthquakes...

 or would I be here....

Fighting demons. 

Instead, I am here. Just getting to enjoy the blood, sweat, tears and sounds of these amazing people. 

Clearly I didn't have much to say. Just that sometimes I do miss playing. 

Catching Cannon Balls

Lots of not much going on lately, Universally speaking. Nothing coming forth from the alarm and just trying to be a better me. Yesterday, learning about the impending departure of Levon Helm (via Slash on Twitter), however, gave me pause. I know absolutely jack about Levon, or The Band, for that matter. But I know this song....

It's a huge part of my youth....not sure how, just remember hearing it frequently. AND, there's always the factoid that it was written in the year of my birth. 

I'm fairly ignorant when it comes to music appreciation and music history. That's what my beloved is for....he always fills me in on the information I did or did not need to know, but like to know anyway. Take the fact that I heard Robbie Robertson for the first time, as a solo act, probably when I was around 17.....by that time, The Band was already disbanded. From the moment I heard this...

I was hooked. On that album. And only that album. I've tried his other stuff. Just, for the life of me, can't get into it. I'm in to good lyrics, and good stories within songs. Which will ruffle my beloved's metal feathers, since he insists that I should be more into things like Sabbath and Maiden. But.....therein lies the rub...because along with the lyricism, I have to have a sound that speaks to me. I just don't get the same vibes from the things he likes...nor he me. Yin and Yang, up and down, it all balances out.  

Like this, for instance, is an absolute exquisite example of what sucks me in..

Just. Wow. 

Then, you have The Black Crowes doing this...

Brilliance. 

See, I'm into the earthy, growly, bluesy, heart-wrenching shit. Probably why I was immediately drawn to this...

Just Perfection.  

I can't tell you why I am the way I am, musically (or any other way for that matter...). I just know what I like, and reallly, genre is useless to me, because I bounce all over the place from opera to hip hop...like with this....

There is just absolutely no rhyme, nor reason when it comes to me.  So I guess, today, after so much silence, the Universe is trying to get me to finally see that it doesn't matter....you are who you are and you should be completely and utterly, without fail, comfortable in your being. Like what you like, hate what you hate, listen, don't listen, and by all means, stop following the crowd.....they might be headed on an extremely long fall off a short cliff. 

Just. Be. You. 

and bounce a little....