Saturday, February 28, 2015

Liberal Christians are going to Hell is the message from the sage bible expert Jessa Duggar Seewald. Growing up in the Bible belt, her message is not new. With 613 mitvok or commandments that Orthodox Jews try to observe, it could be worse.

My mother grew up on the Alabama portion of Lookout Mountain. People would just get up and build a new church when they disagreed with the old one. The particular brand of Baptist is just called independent that the Duggar's observe.

They wear long hair and dresses like the Holiness church but plenty of make-up. The wedding was gorgeous but something that ostentatious does not jive with the New World Protestant religions. Of course it makes better television and more money for TLC and the Duggar family.

In my opinion, the Duggars are a bunch of celebrated nuts. I knew of women that had 19 children of my mother's generation or before. Most started as teenagers and not in their mid twenties as the matriarch of this clan. Like many women, I think of the toll your body takes when pregnant. To have had 19 pregnancies is like unimaginable.

Her opinion causes me no grief. God made me a liberal Christian for a reason. Now how is that for a hard shell Baptist answer.

I also grew up sheltered and had to eat my words along my way in life. Jessa may get to live her life in the cocoon the money from TLC is earning from them. More likely life will give her the bumps and bruises it gives us all.

 I am more concerned about the callousness of politicians to manipulating the media. Calling the Keystone Pipeline of the Koch Brother's a Job's Bill rankles me because there is an audience receptive to it. The Democratic candidate in Georgia, Michelle Nunn, was also in favor of the Keystone Pipeline.

Myself, it is sort of like locating a new garbage dump. You need it but put it as far away as possible. My problem with the oil pipeline is that we need to do a better job of conservation and exploiting other energy sources. I don't particularly care about the Koch brother's bottom line.

These people that are voting for the Koch brother's tax breaks don't understand that they don't always trickle down. Sometimes, they just keep it all for themselves. They don't understand what it is like being part of the great unwashed. They keep it as far away from themselves as possible.

But like Humpty Dumpty, "All the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put Humpty together again." It is a caution to us all including the Koch brothers.

Below is a political blurb from Facebook. One post, I'll post carried away logic of liberals.

One point I always like to share is that no matter someone's opinion, you will be surprised who steps up for right. 

Leon Addleton, who was the preacher of the Baptist Church I grew up in would insist that the Baptist religion began at the time of Christ and not as an offshoot of the Congregationalist of New England, was the only pastor to recognize that my sister's schizophrenia was a disease of the brain and counseled my parents accordingly. This was in 1981.


The Keystone jobs bill was passed in a bipartisan, bicameral way to help American families and create jobs. It's ridiculous that President Obama vetoed it.
Share if you agree!

Heck no I don't agree. This is just payback for the Koch brother's financing your campaign.

 

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Maybe I should look before I jump.

When I signed up for the A to Z Blog, I did not anticipate having a shift in how I view this blog. I have another blog which is called SCIENCE LADYBUG . It gets many more hits per day and very few comments. It is designed for teachers and like most teachers they are not lollygagging around with comments. They get what they need and get out.

I wanted to be Science Lady but the name was taken. I was the Science Lady in central Georgia. I have one big talent in life. Children find me entertaining. Believe me, it took me years to reach that point in my career.

My first venture into writing was to collate science activities. Instead I started a novel that I had toyed with in my head. My big talent in life was not being an language expert. The fact I have a command of grammar is the fact I have always been a big reader. The speech patterns I grew up with are truly atrocious. I've been told I write dialect well. My eighth and tenth grade English teacher Mrs. Toshach taught grammar like a math class which clicked in my mind.

Like most people who start writing, I assumed my first work would be the exception. I was lucky enough to wander into a screenwriting workshop. I paid the man to evaluate a script I wrote. Honestly, I knew it needed a criticism. I just did not know where to start. When he burst my bubble with criticism, I was surprised I was so depressed.

 As a teacher, I knew he did not know where to break down the ways the script was bad. Guidance counselors would always ask me to evaluate students with severe academic problems. So many of my colleagues would rate a student with the lowest part of the scale on everything. It was true these children were not functioning. It is just that there were particular areas where they failed. In some areas they did function. I knew my first effort would be weak.

As I learned more, I could see what he meant with particular criticisms. I feel like this man avoids me. He doesn't. It was the first time I fell on my face since stepping out of my Queendom. Teaching school isn't the most glamorous job; but, you can get a lot of respect. I wasn't used to not being the expert.

I would have taught school the full forty. Actually, I would be there way too long because I loved it. I just reached that care-giving dilemma that so many of us face. You are technically in your prime; but, you retire and take care of family members.

So I slowed down and began what I had wanted to do when I was twenty which was write.

I started this blog to begin building my platform. There was a wonderful blog hop called Trifecta which I loved. I have done other blog hops but I realized I did not have a true audience. I wanted to see who would visit. Two of my posts, "I got a solicitation from Chesty Friends" and "Bogus Spam Email" get easily twice the number of hits each month of any other post's total.

Some posts became part of other stories so I have taken them down. My vampire posts which began as a tit for tat with some younger writers had huge numbers. I've since incorporated portions into a screenplay and taken them down.

Well A to Z is my challenge to define myself.  I still plan to post 26 scenes of a play about a Canadian occupied swamp in North Florida for the challenge. In many ways, your work says more about you than if you wrote a memoir.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

One good thing about having a common name

One good thing about having a common name is you get an incredible amount of people checking your profile on Facebook and Google+.  I mean I feel a low residual pressure to have something relevant posted. But my logical self recognizes that people pop out just as quickly as they pop in.

It will be interesting where social media stands after five years and the natural shaking and sorting is done. There will also be some convenient little etiquette advisories in time. I can see the question popping up "Are you ticked off?" that will delay a post for a few hours. Another will be, "Do you know what that word means?".

One year I had a student who would raise his arm, slap his hand on the inside of his elbow and throw the lower portion of his arm in the air. I had the urge one day to do it back at him. I let the urge go. Later I noticed other students reacting in shock at him. So I took him out in the hallway and gave him the choice to stop or demonstrate it to the principal. He stopped.

Most of you know what it meant. It was the same thing as "the bird" or "Hawaiian Peace Sign".

I'm not sorry that I was so slack with the discipline of that kid. His anger spilling out revealed how difficult his life was. I'm sure he made it to adulthood intact. Sensitivity is a two edged sword that wounds you and gives you understanding.

The funniest interaction I had with a class is they thought I was drinking beer everyday. At the time green tea was purported to help you lose weight. So I made about a quart to bring to school with plenty of lemon and artificial sweetener. It was so funny when Martavius asked me if I had beer in my glass at my desk,

I told him to smell it. He approached it gingerly, smelled it and somberly reported to the class that it was tea. One more student asked me if he could smell it. I said yes. He made the same announcement to the class. I did not think about it until later that it was good I told them to smell it. It did look like beer.

I know everyone has heard about the reporter who used a racial slur. I don't know if it was a mistake or carelessness. The female vice-president of Sony has certainly resigned since her racist and catty emails were revealed by a hacker.

For the reporter, I would give her the benefit of the doubt. She is around thirty and she may have heard people use the word and not know it's origin. I thought it was a local slur. I have a very dear friend who didn't like the "n" word but the "j" word was much worse. For the executive, she was sophisticated enough to know to not put anything unattractive in writing.

I've noticed that blogger is giving a warning that hosting sexually explicit material on your blog will be cause to shut down the blog or change access to the blog to the owner only. I guess that nips my porn career in the bud.

Of course, my second childhood has not begun. By then I will not be able to remember to write down my passwords. However if your computer identifies you by DNA, be careful world. You thought your mama and grandmamma taking over Facebook was bad. Geriatric porn spam will be worse.


Sunday, February 22, 2015

I bought a Serta Memory Foam pad to lay across my mattress. When I took it out of the box, it was incredibly compressed. After it decompressed, all that air it absorbed made it really heavy and difficult to manipulate.

Getting on the bed for a well deserved nap, the three dogs that sleep with me had their own reactions. Muffin who is a poodle mix, that is the latest vet's guess and she does have a laid back poodle personality, loved the new pad.

Louise was cool with it. But she let me know it was different. Dude who is a Chihuahua mix did not like it. But loving me, he could tolerate it. I've had the best rest I have had in a long time.

Now if I could get rid of the aggravations in my life. I'll be howling at the moon later tonight.

I had started sleeping on a sofa around 2009. I had a room added onto my house so my sister could live comfortably in the house. Long story short, I had too much to do to set up my bedroom that I had added. You get behind, you get more behind. Then I quit my job in 2010 and really the journey began. You have to have time to coherently know your situation.

I'm too lazy to meditate. I like the zing, zing, zing of reading another book, watching television, walking the dog. I get my best writing ideas while mowing grass. I would say talking to people but I am talked to death. I know this is not a good attitude for my mental health. I plan to go back to water aerobics to socialize as well as exercise.

I had gotten use to sleeping on my side on a sofa. My special dog Frankie, slept at my feet. Then Louise began to sleep along my legs. Sounds cramped but her body heat stopped my legs from cramping at night. When Frankie passed, Louise wasted no time taking his spot on the sofa. 

Muffin would sleep on the floor beside the sofa. Dude slept on the back of the sofa. Heaven help me sort my dogs out if I ever have a man in my life.

It is daunting to know you are growing older. I've felt the invisibility of being retired. I had the idea to not talk about writing until I was ready to publish. I did not know that four years later; I would be no closer. So I stand in that no man's land of what I do. My type A personality flickers like a spark of electricity going nowhere.

Well I make sure folks are where they are supposed to be, the dishes are washed, negotiate their feelings, juggle what I can do. Shrug off what I can't do. I've opened up to people I would have just passed with the least interaction I could.

I would make a list of resolutions of what I will not do as I grow older. I know better than to tempt fate. I think I will just keep a vague thought. One thing I do know is you grow older as the same person you were when you were young. You do change from experience and resolution; but, that template of how you react to life is there.

Now my stories are totally fictitious. There is an element of an alter ego that I guess could be called wish fulfilment that are the germ of an outrageous piece of dialog. Sort of like actors think of something terribly sad to bring tears for a scene. I also find myself incorporating aggravating people into stories. They are so rich for exploitation. So the beware, don't make me mad or I will write about you is not a threat but a truth.

Anyway, I hope everyone sleeps as well as I will tonight on my memory foam.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Our shared puritanical past

The Puritans are alive and well, even in Georgia.

Most people do not know our Christian, Evangelical roots are from the Puritans and Pilgrims. I traced my dad's great grandmother Queen Ann Stephens McDuffie family back to one of her great several times grandfather being born in Plymouth Rock in 1608.

More relevant is the tracing of religion from the early Congregationalist to Baptists, Methodists, Nazarenes, Church of God, Shakers, Mormons, etc. They are still with us.

Another religious group that had a big influence on us today but isn't a large denomination today are Quakers. Rose colored monocals were around in the 1600's.

I have a healthy respect for evangelicals having been born a member of it. I don't believe some of the pack's mentality.

I also know its faults. One is not recognizing reality or praying for a miracle. I believe in miracles. I just don't like praying for something that is going to happen due to the natural order or things.

The worst is a family with a daughter dying of cancer. Every once in awhile someone will chip in on the Facebook update page they see a miracle a coming. It could happen but the family and child knows how the disease is progressing.

They had eight pieces of baked chicken at Kroger for $4.99 in their Deli. They put the chicken out at 4PM and I got there at 3:53. After checking the clearance shelf, I came back and stood in line. Like most people I got in conversation with the other person waiting.

Her sister and brother in law are diabetics. She didn't know what sort but I discerned Type 2. Type 2 is hereditary and a disease of aging. It is true being overweight is a characteristic. It is a disease of aging and obesity in that the cells in your pancreas die and stop producing insulin.

In the treatment of Type 2 being overweight is good in that if you lose weight, you can reverse some of disease's progression. In addition, overweight people fare better in treatment of diabetes than their slim counterpart. Type 2 diabetics do not sustain the heavy organ damage that Type 1 suffer. Of course, someone has to manage their diabetes to withstand the toll it can take on your body.

I've been careful about what I eat and I have been able to maintain my sugar levels with diet. Well the craving for sugar happened and I knew my diabetes was acting up. I measured my blood sugar and it was high. My liver knew my body needed sugar, my brain was telling me to eat sugar, I went to the doctor and find myself on medication to improve my body's response to sugar.


My next step is to lose weight. And no, I wasn't eating sugar. My sugar is controlled.

Back to the woman talking, she told me how her sister does exactly what the doctor orders. I can hear our puritanical roots. I had made the mistake of saying my diabetes was acting up and I was eating a lot of chicken or eggs as meals.

She seriously tells me I need to pray to get my diabetes under control and cured like her sister.

I thank her. I grew up with many people with her logic. I imagine her sister understands my situation. The word is not cured or remission. It is under control.

I know in the scheme of things, type 2 diabetes is not the worst disease to manage. It is as old as time. My great-grandfather Dube Prestwood had diabetes. His brother Jess died from diabetes. One Christmas he decided to have a drink and it was the straw that broke the camel's back. An elderly friend of mine late husband died from eating too much dressing one Christmas. He made a pig of himself as she tells it. Tragically an acquaintance from high school had a 21 year old daughter die from complications of diabetes.

My big aggravation with it is that I have to think about it. The freedom to just eat is not there. I pick around with what I can eat. I know I am getting older. It is much better than the alternative.

What I wanted to say to the woman was, "You mean God reverses aging? We don't have to obey the passage of time if we pray enough."

I do pray. I pray for people to have relief from the ills they face. I pray for myself and family to be safe. I thank God for what I do have. I don't pray to be prettier, richer or younger. I pray to make the most of what I do have.

And yes, the $4.99 chicken was delicious.

The woman purchased two snack packs which cost $3.49 each. One eight piece would have been cheaper. Behind me was a former sixth grader who is in college with two roommates. They each were buying an eight pieces of chicken for $4.99. He was so smart, happy, and doing well. That is always great.

And yes, I know my puritanical roots are showing too. I just don't care for prosperity gospel.

Monday, February 16, 2015

Dreamtime

I dreamt that I was naked from the waist up. I was moving on a back country highway and I was headed toward the town I grew up. My destination was to get home where I live now.

In the dream, cars began to pile up behind me and I started running. My breasts were large and strangely firm like rubber balls on my chest. They definitely weren't natural boobs. Anyway, it was convenient when I ran.

Thankfully I woke up. I was dying of embarrassment.

It is not hard to know what your dreams mean. I looked up being naked in a dream and it meant what I thought it should mean. Actually there were five choices. Being naked in a dream is common.

Dreams can be so crazy. I have noticed you wake up when they get too crazy or unreal.

I had a dream about someone who pointed a gun at me. In the dream, I was able to take the gun and began to karate kick this person, really getting the upper hand on them. I woke up. Even in my dreams, this person would be able to beat me into a bloody pulp.

I usually don't remember any dreams. I do think it is your subconscious untangling thoughts. I've had two dreams where my father who has passed away visited me. I woke up shortly after and this has helped with my recall.

In one dream I was outside naked trying to finish the yard work I was doing. My dad told me to stop working and enjoy being with my mother and brother. My sister laughed about my being naked and doing yard work in the dream. Can you imagine the skin irritation from grass, dirt, insects, briars. I wear long cotton sleeved shirts in the summer to protect my skin.

One day my mind had fallen into thinking this world is all there is. There is no God, no afterlife, nothing. My dad came in my dreams that night. I don't remember anything he said.




Sunday, February 15, 2015

Impulse Control

No I did not have a hot date for Valentines. If I do, I know I will dump everything and have some fun . Damn the torpedoes.

Part of having an organization problem is not being able to rationally know what you can realistically do. I surf the net and find more and more of what I need to do to write my multitude of novel ideas.

But the ding dang novels aren't getting written, my house is decorated in whirlwind modern. I'm taking a load to Happy Hour Service Center's thrift shop. I would have done it Friday; but, I am having a hard time parting with a new looking coffee table and end tables.

Yes I know how a hoarder feels. Then I can load it up tomorrow morning with that thought in mind.

If you see me in evening gown at the grocery store on senior citizen Wednesday, you need to understand that I have reached a wear it part of my life. All these clothes on sale and I have stocked enough to last the rest of my life. If I lose some weight, I could bring the 80s back.

I've decided on a schedule.

Next Wednesday starts my online class on how to write a romance. It will last six weeks.

Meanwhile, I've decided to fill in the blanks for my A to Z challenge. I plan to display a play I have been writing in my mind in 26 equal parts or scenes of a two act play. I downloaded a kindle edition of Playwriting Seminar 2.0 by Richard Toscan.

It is about the Canadian occupied territory of Florida called "Sweet Bay" which happens to be a swamp.  Two characters who I love and know, Umbertine Dearwood and Cornelia Mills live there.

The A to Z challenge should be easy to keep in alphabetical order. I have unabridged printed dictionary. When all else fails, I will make up a word. I already know how to not care when I run a sentence on. Fragments still stink.

So I got three major things on my schedule. I also want to read "A Tuna Christmas" by Joe Sears and Jaston Williams for inspiration. More importantly, how long scenes should last and how to pack a zillion characters in a story. This is the South, we travel in packs.

Plus, I got to write on my two main WIP that are not in progress.

Did I say I had a schedule?

Heh, Heh, you know I don't.  I am flying by the seat of my pants. I'll fall asleep reading Tuna Christmas and Playwriting Seminar. I will get the A to Z written. These girls are just a bubbling and talking and I got to slow down and write.

Meanwhile, I'm going to peel some potatoes. We are having cubed steak, mashed potatoes, gravy and salad for dinner.

Hasta la vista baby.

Friday, February 13, 2015

Poor woman MFA

My dad said the army was a poor man's college. Profound words from someone whose first tour of duty was Europe to fight for the Allies in World War II. He spent time with the British Army and was a German prisoner of war.

My dad never talked about his experiences. I don't know where that wisdom came. His father served in the Spanish American War and World War I as an ambulance driver. Born in 1867 in Germany, my grandfather emigrated with his parents. His mother didn't believe in talking about Germany. They were Americans and spoke English only.

What little my dad did say was memorable.

One was telling me as he stood looking through papers he had in a drawer was that he was lucky to have lived through the war. The returning soldiers had more to share. My dad had lived through the "dirty thirties" or "Great Depression" which hit the South the hardest.

After World War II, there was a recession. After every war there is one. My brother got out of the military a few years before I graduated from college. The United States made its final withdrawal of forces from Vietnam on March 29th, 1973. Two years later North Vietnam took over South Vietnam.

On April 30th, 1975 the 7000 Americans and South Vietnamese civilians evacuated. The following week, television and newspapers were filled with images of people rushing to be evacuated. $250,000 helicopter were pushed into the ocean off aircraft carriers to make room for more to land.

The air evacuation of siege-stricken Vietnamese from Saigon to the U.S. was conducted after the Babylift operation.... - NARA - 542335

World War II was "the good war" in that Hitler and the Third Reich were such a world menace. Eleven million people died in concentration camps. Six million Jews in addition to Five million people deemed undesirable.

Vietnam was fought at home as well as Southeast Asia. Americans are passionate people. My brother was a Vietnam veteran and they did not get the respect they deserved.

You would think I was a history teacher instead of a science teacher. This post was originally going to be about this blog being a substitute MFA.

This blog has been my touchstone to not stop writing. I now look for my favorite blogs. I signed up for blogging from A to Z to get a focus or direction for the future of this blog. I'll have to wait until March to see what they mean about getting a theme for the month.

I signed up to help one of the editors. I hope they know what they are getting into with me. I always have a typo or left out word. This particular computer doesn't always register the spacebar or the letters r and h. I'm sure I have something to do with this.

Susan has given her helper's a minion badge with a dragon on it. I guess next month I will spruce up the layout. I am working on my "poor woman's MFA".


Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Ray Charles singing "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" on YouTube.

Maybe it is just me; but, have you ever noticed that no matter how bad your voice is, you sound pretty good singing this song.

I found the lyrics on this website --->   http://www.reelclassics.com/Musicals/Wizoz/rainbow-lyrics.htm

"Somewhere Over the Rainbow"

music by Harold Arlen and lyrics by E.Y. Harburg

 Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby. Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?



http://www.reelclassics.com/Musicals/Wizoz/rainbow-lyrics.htm
 

Mortality is stalking me

Mortality seems to be stalking me.

An acquaintance has a ten year old daughter slowly dying. His family is living life to it's fullness and turning in private to anguish.  I'm glad he shares pictures of her on Facebook. The older sister got her driver's license and he posted that milestone last night.

Maybe it is me, more likely it is the mumbo jumbo formula of my web browser; but, yesterday it was about death and the process of dying. On NPR, the writer of "Being Mortal" was tooting his book and the documentary on PBS based on the book.

I was going to make sure to steer away from that topic but genealogy roadshow was on. It is not as good as Dr. Louis Gate's show but I enjoy it none the same. Next was about the history of tuberculosis. A movie script I have written has parts in the 1800s so I am always observing anything from those times.

I did not pay too much attention to the tuberculosis show. I was busy reading blogs. Then "Being Mortal" came on. I watched it.

Anyway, I am going to 59 this year. My diabetes has become worse despite my careful eating. I have an elderly mother living with me, many older relatives, and the need to make arrangements for my own funeral one day. So what is all this about I think to a higher power.

No I do not anticipate dying any time in the near future.

It is just that I need to direct my sister's money toward the cost of a funeral so she will qualify for Medicaid. If I am going to do that for her; I am going to get it done for myself in case she learns what I have done. It is so gruesome to face your own mortality.

I would like to keep her with private insurance but private insurance or Medicare do not adequately address mental health treatment. I feel so frustrated that her psychiatrist tells me "My sister's insurance does not pay for future hospitalization that she will need if they change her medications."

I don't say anything because I am always stalling for the right tactic for her care. I'm at war with a monster and a broken system. I still think the same thought, "Who is my sister's doctor, you or the insurance company?" I mean, how does he think my sister is so well-dressed and cared for out of $550 disability check she gets.

I want to say the truth, "I will take a second mortgage out on my house pay for it if that is the only way".  Can you see my right hand flailing in the air with my consternation?

There is much more on the topic but one purpose of my blog is to keep my "ass" out of trouble. Naming names and dredging up details which are true can be turned on me. I've contemplated writing about my experiences with mental illness and the system.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas sums so many of my feelings on this dark topic. So much genius from a man who lived such an unstable alcoholic life. Some people feel too much.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Getting use to the Chill factor

For the first time in my life, I am learning not to be driven. I was born with an internal schedule to meet. For the last couple of years, I can't hit the grind. I've got other things to do and well I fall asleep in my chair at the end of the evening.

I've grieved about different things in my life and nursed disappointments but this is one I am having a difficult time accepting.

I've got bookcases with super books to peruse. I snag terrific books at a thrift store that helps support developmentally delayed citizens in Warner Robins and from Amazon. If you could feel the roar I have to mow through it all, sit at my drafting table and create coordinate line graphs that produce pictures, create school activities, write my stories.

But instead,

I've joined the A to Z blog challenge. I'm starting to notice so many serious writers with published books writing a blog. I assumed I would be one by now. I don't even have a manuscript ready at this point.

However, I am still going to two writer conferences this year and keep my mouth shut. At this point I am a hobbyist at most. At the writer's police academy, I told a woman she looked just like a woman pictured on the website. I almost told her what a pretty girl she was with beautiful eyes. I am sort of glad I did not say all of that. It turns out she is a well known best selling writer. It could have made her day or incredibly livid.

There are so many writers out there. When I went to college, one of the profs would joke that Georgia had more Baptist than people. I sometimes wonder if there are more writers than readers. I know there are more couch potato television addicts than readers.

So where do I stand I say. I have read an 18 year olds blog and she writes better than me. I am not only off schedule but incredibly late.

So I guess I will just get used to it. 

Sunday, February 8, 2015

I got out of the house last night.

So much can change so fast.

I have to remember how I feel when my mother has a health crisis. I understand the biblical commandment of Honor your parents that their days be long. Three or Four thousand years ago, people felt the pressure of taking care of elderly parents.

Its the crankiness and demanding nature that eats your soul away. This is a post that has to mellow or never be posted. I am moving toward mellow.

My current life is much like the ocean tides. It is ebbs and flows of feeling incredibly trapped to moments where I feel satisfied everyone is well.

I went to see Bill Maher last night. It was cool to see him in person. I did not get to the Macon Auditorium until ten minutes after the show started. There were no parking places close. After a twenty minute search, I took a place about three blocks away in a spookier section.

On one corner were three adult women sitting on the steps of a building with a male standing nearby. I crossed the road and passed a young man and woman with their backpacks and bedrolls. I was at the point of returning and going home. After all, how long was a comedy routine going to be.

I got in, seated and it was a good show. I did not enjoy all the sly sexual jokes to describe people. I think sexual references are so overused. My favorite joke was "it would take the entire Palin clan a week to find Crimea" on a map.

The entire spiel was interesting. He was thought provoking and obnoxious at times. I liked that he pointed out that the United States was not necessarily the best country on Earth. It was just our preference.  He was obnoxious with the religion blather. If you are a believer, you usually have a reason. I have been agnostic. It is just that during a hard time in my life, I opened to faith.

I don't believe the only the reason for religion is a fear of death. That's why we have so many "ghostbuster" shows. Religion also helps you accept the bumps and bruises of life. I looked up Bill Maher on Wikipedia. It's stated he is not an atheist but has turned away from organized religion. Being as organized religion is a product of humans, corruption is inevitable.

He ended with some Cialis commercial analysis gags. I wish I heard the first part. I will have to leave earlier next time. However, what put my mother in a sour mood this morning was my dog Loretta barking all evening until I came home.

Anyway, if I want to go to some evening shows in the future, I will have to board Loretta. Oh the walk back was clear with so many leaving the auditorium. I have a mix of guilt and relief that the street dwellers clear out.

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Visionaries like Martin Luther King, Jr.

To highlight how hot a topic race is, the number of readers of this blog drops when I write about race. I got a terrible review of a blog post about race. Black friends of mine say whites don't want to talk about race. However, most black people do not like the topic either.

Being a life-long Georgian, race has always been an issue. A white teacher I worked with who did not get her contract renewed told me our principal who was black was racist. I said nothing. The woman was already down and I did not need to put her down more.

What I thought was a combination of two factors. She just did not fit in with the students she taught. You have to adapt wherever you go. Each school district has its peculiar bent. The second was you have got to be kidding. We all look through the prism of our experiences and race is a big influence on us all.

I have been following a Native American issues FaceBook feed. One thing Native Americans hate is whites saying they had a Native American grandmother. I have a black acquaintance who has told me that she experienced the same thing.

When I first encountered this opinion, I was hurt and mad. I mean I caught heck about how dark I was as a kid before segregation. I remember in Fifth grade being questioned why I was brown. Another girl was Italian and that was acceptable. But I was the same color and I didn't have being Italian as an excuse.

Now, I only have the urge to tell all Native Americans but hold my tongue. They have a lot of anger. Plus, there are a lot of wannabees who have a romanticized view of Native Americans. Yes they have some wonderful religious mythologies and saints. But the bulk have feet of clay like everybody else. I can see where a wannabee can be aggravating.

The epiphany I had with reading the FaceBook feed is the greatness Martin Luther King Jr's leadership. We have visionaries that walk this Earth and we never know it when they are alive.

Tavis Smiley wrote, Death of a King: The Real Story of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Final Year . What struck me hardest was how hard his last year was. He was battling all the forces of negativity to bring civil rights for African Americans. If not for his non-violent protests and demonstrating forgiveness and love, the tension between blacks and white would have made it impossible for blacks and whites to work together.

I remember the day King was shot.  I walked in my family home to find my mother and father depressed by the news. The good guy had been killed and our country was a pot boiling over in 1968. How you felt about race was a family thing that you did not discuss outside your family. Keeping mum about race is nothing new.

When I was young, every town had to rename a road Martin Luther King, Jr. My thought was "Why don't we acknowledge other black leaders?" I now know that if not Martin Luther King, Jr.; we would be no where close to where we are today. We still have serious problems but we have made enormous progress. All because one man knew the only way to bring change with peace is with faith in God and love.

It's not my place to make suggestions to Native Americans. A FaceBook feed has a fairytale land sense to it. It can seem real. But more than likely it is a place to find enjoyable memes, interesting news articles, surreal website news articles, trolls, friends with a lot of baloney. So this feed can give a trend or frustration light. Plus one over opinionated poster can silence many thoughtful posters.

I appreciate them letting me follow their group. One poster says, why is it always their grandmother. That grandmother may be seven to ten generations back or a family legend that is not true. In the end, it is an admiration.