Friday, November 7, 2014

Wrong Lane

It's 2:30 a.m. EST.  For some reason, I awoke at 2:00 a.m. and after laying there, expecting to fall back to sleep after only having 3 hours sleep the morning before, I begrudgingly got out of bed.

Nothing on Facebook.  Huffington Post had an interesting whistleblower article on Chase Bank, but lacking the ability to focus through the entire article, I read the first three paragraphs and summed up the whole article, because I'm genius like that.

Chase is getting bigger and stronger despite it's unethical and illegal banking practices.  The United States is just as corrupt for covering it up.  Is there hope for us?

Trying to get justice with big money involved is like when you're late for work and get in the wrong lane going behind someone driving 45 on the highway.  And nobody will let you out.  When finally, you do catch a break, you get caught behind someone else driving 50.  Then all the way to work, you catch every red light.  And you left early that morning.  

Getting fleeced by corporate America produces the same kind of powerless frustration, with the exception that the obstruction is purchased and designed to deceive and thieve.

I fear that many people of limited and, dare I say intelligence, such as myself, feel just as helpless, hopeless and frustrated as a driver caught in the wrong lane.  Therefore, no one does anything because who can fight that?

Jesus, why did I read those few paragraphs at 2:00 a.m. this morning?

I'm Canadian.  By the time I sobered up and was ready to become an American, it cost over $1,000 to become a citizen.  This country has been my home since I was 14 years old.  I love her with all my heart.  Although I am hoping to be able to do so one day, at the moment, I don't have a say in government.  I feel very little hope.  I  pray that this country will straighten out; that corporate greed will not pave a path to hell on the good intentions of our founding forefathers.  

Friday, September 12, 2014

Whatever Yo!

I can write whatever I want on this page because nobody every reads my shit anyway.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Not Waiting For A Bus

She was the only one sitting on the bench when I arrived at the bus stop.  She didn't look up even as I sat down, which is not unusual.   'Mind your own business' her posture said.  I began reading my morning emails on my cell phone.  I didn't realize she was talking to me for several seconds.  I lifted and turned my head toward her, but she didn't lift or turn hers, as if she was talking to herself.
"...I sat there, watching his lips moving, but no sound was coming out," she went on.  "It was like the pressurized cabin of a plane, you know, like all the sound had been sucked out?  It was weird.  And I just sat there and stared at him.   The words seemed to float like bubbles out of his mouth and pop in my ears.. 'terminal... inoperable... aggressive treatment....three months, maybe six.'.  I don't even remember leaving his office."  Her voice trailed off.
What do you say to a stranger  who has just told you they are going to die before the year was out?  I had an unexpected surge of empathy.  I wanted to comfort this young woman in some way, but I've never been that person, you know, the one who intuitively knows how to.  Should I tell her to keep her head up, everything is going to be all right?  I wasn't in the mood for an early morning lie.
I just sat there and listened.
"I'm not afraid to die," she continued, "It's just, I have so much to do, so many responsibilities.  Who will take care of them when I'm gone?"  Her deep brown eyes welled with tears, formed a stream down her chin and splashed onto her teal shirt.   I sat there listening helplessly as she began to sob quietly.
"I made up my mind.  I'm not going to do treatment," she continued, shaking her brunette head for emphasis.  "It's stage 4.  I'm not going to spend my last days like that.  Everyone wants to be the exception.  They fight and hope and suffer." 
They don't tell you the truth, you know.  Did you know that?  If there's a fighting chance, they don't tell you the truth so you'll keep a positive attitude.  They say a positive attitude is almost everything in cancer treatment.  So they lie to you, give you hope, so you'll fight to survive.  When they get the results of the treatment.  That's when they tell you the truth," her voice trailed off, "Unless the truth is all they really have to offer in the first place."
"What are you going to do?" I whispered, not knowing if this was a question that should be asked.
"I don't know," she answered.  "I'm only 24, you know.  I'm not going to off myself, if that's what you were thinking.  No, I think I'll wrap some stuff up as much as I can, then go on a cruise, or see the whales in Alaska, .  I guess now would be a good time for a bucket list, huh?"  She managed to laugh.  I managed to smile.
"This is my bus," I said.

Thanks, Mister, for listening. You are really nice." She looked at me for the first time.  She was young, with wide round eyes, smooth unstressed skin and lips that looked great smiling. I stared at her as she walked along the sidewalk brushing her hands against flowering bushes and green trees until the bus driver began to close the door. 

Monday, June 2, 2014

Dreams in Slumber

I had big dreams when I was a kid.  Kid dreams...dreams of flying, of saving the world and animals, righting wrongs, putting injustice in its place, but like an early morning mist, they evaporated under the burning light of reality.

Every now and then something reminds me that once I had dreams. I even get glimpses of what they were but a jaded pair of eyes ordered my cold heart to pluck the dreams from the skies of my mind, place them in a box, shove them in a closet and lock the door.

My dreams may have been childish then, but they have grown, laying in the box hidden in the darkness. They didn't die, but wait for my soul  to awaken,  like a bear emerging  from its winter hibernation when the snow begins to melt, flowers begin to bloom and birds begin to sing again, so they may be free again.

But I don't know where I put the key.