Sunday, September 22, 2013

Tonight I was watching some random crime show. About a random crime thing. So there was a kid who had committed his first murder when he was 12. Him and his friend were described as "street kids". Street kids you say? What exactly does that mean? How did these children get to the street? Who put them there? Why did they stay there? Did anyone wonder where they were? SOMEONE had to give these children names. It made me wonder - looking at their broken, sad faces. With their empty eyes. Flat affects and filthy and scars carved into their cheeks where no child should be marked like so. It made me picture them as brand new babies. William and Vincent. Those were their names. Respectable sounding. I tried to picture each child's mother. The "street kids." I tried to see their mama's faces. Were their daddies there when they were born? I tried so hard to place myself in that moment that they came out and in to this world... I thought of their mamas looking at them and whispering their names for the very first time. What kind of wonder a mother must have felt looking at those new little people. Were they even conscious to see their baby boys open their eyes for the first time? Did their hearts stop when they saw themselves in those faces? Someone gave those children names. Someone said those names for the very first time. Be it a crack addicted mother, or maybe one with psychiatric illness. Someone full of the mystery of the love of a brand new parent. Their names came from somewhere. They mattered. At some point, they mattered even for the most brief moment - to someone else. When I meet people it's an autonomic function of my brain to do with every person what I described with the "street children" above. I can't stay mad at anyone for too long when I do that. Now you try it. Even if you don't try it with others, try it with yourself.

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Sunday, June 23, 2013

Happy Summer.

In 2011, within a span of 26 days, ten inmates passed away due to heat related causes in Texas Prisons.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

It's Still a Flower

I started running again days ago. This means that I get to the curb in front of my apartment and high five myself - which looks like I'm clapping one time, very deliberately - thereby causing people to wonder what the hell is wrong with me - because I made it 12 feet without dying of being an out of shape fat person.

Friday, December 28, 2012

Love Isn't, Again.

Horrible argument with my husband. The wonderful SoL child is spending the night with a friend. So. The SoL chick is at home alone. SoL husband calls. And we kinda get to arguing. And by arguing I mean, hanging up on each other. Sad face.

Him:  No. It's fine. You didn't hurt my feelings.
Me: (knowing I hurt his feelings). I'm so sorry.
Him: It's fine.
Me: kthenI'mgoingtosleep.
Me: blinkBLINKblink

I said something that just didn't sound too great. So he does what we all do. I'll demonstrate what I mean by repeating the above conversation, honestly. Watch this.

Him: Wow. Way to make me feel horrible. Except that I don't want you to feel bad for it so I'll pretend to be happy. lol haha life is great!
Me:  I obviously hurt you and now you won't tell me I hurt you but I know I did and NOW MY FEELINGS ARE HURT QUIT BEING A $*%&#
Me: selfishSELFISHselfish
Him: I'm really hurt but I don't like being honest about feelings because I'm supposed to be a big strong viking pirate beast AND NOW I'M MADDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!

We all do this to each other. Feelings. They are the suck. But you won't tell me yours and I'm darn sure not gonna tell you mine. Next thing you know it's divorce lost a friend I hate you dummy town.

How bout practice having a little faith in someone? Give a little bit of your heart to the ones you love the most. When they hurt you, gently say so. He called me back. And we started over. And it was rough. But we did it all over again. We committed to truly loving each other, instead of doing the convenient thing and pretending that everything's o.k. thinking we're helping by doing that but instead slowly tearing each other apart. And we simply, and respectfully admitted to the other how we felt. And that was that.

When I met the SoL husband, he was a very, very chivalrous, respectful, old fashioned and pleasant kinda guy. Because he had to present that face to the whole wide world. So no one would know the truth. Because it was his job to take care of everyone. Now he's in prison.   In reality, he was just as human as me and you. Slowly, we're both learning that it's o.k. to be normal regular people with each other. That someone cares.

We're all so busy caring for them and her and him and those. Pretending to. Ignoring ourselves. Being what we think we have to be. Then we get mad when no one can hear our cries for help. How selfish of us. Be honest. Try that. My husband did that tonight. And we learned a new way to love each other all over again.

Look. I know this post isn't really as great as what I usually have to say. But it's honest. Kinda like this guy!


Sunday, December 23, 2012

Love Isn't

So I went to visit my husband yesterday. On the way back from visit, the traffic. It was awful. But wait! For I digress. My precious Viking Beast. How I love him so! He danced for me. Ever seen a big oh muscle-y convict with full sleeves dance in a prison visit room at a prison visit table. For his wife? Just think about that. He is Love. Capital L style. He follows my lady girl monthly cycle on a calendar. To make sure he's sensitive to my lady girl moody times. I recently tore a muscle in my shoulder. So he grabbed as many books as he could from the library and read all about the anatomy of the shoulder and the various medical problems that affect said joint when injured. While watching football. He lives to love my babies and I. What would I do without him? Not sure. Don't want to consider it. So I won't.

So I left this Christmas Eve-Eve-Eve morning to make the 2.5 hour drive back home. And the traffic was just stupid. I have to drive through a very rural area for a good distance. Usually the vehicles are pretty not so much on the every other weekends that I make this drive. But this day, no.

About an hour from home, I realized that I was in the wrong lane after I got crafty and decided to take the service road to get out of the traffic. And by "take the service road" I mean, I went mudding through a nothing-but-dirt median up a hill. (Go Camry!). Trying to get home fast as I could, I ended up in the wrong lane, put on my turn signal and attempted to get over.

No dice. The lady who refused to let me in was too busy texting to care that I was fixin to end up forced to make a left turn, get back on the highway headed in the wrong direction, where there just so happened to be NO WAY to turn around until I got all the way to the giant, stupid statue of Sam Houston. Who, by the way, looks suspiciously like Alexander Van Buren.

So I'm all praising God. Singing "YAY JESUS BIRTHDAY LAlaLA HAPPY BIRTHDAY DASHING THROUGH THE lalaLAla Rudolph!!!" And immediately stopped to call the aforementioned texting lady a dumb hoe. Like...GET OFF YOUR PHONE YOU STUPID DUMB HONKEY HOE! Because, I love Jesus. duh. She was too busy texting to respond to me. So I did what any self respecting SoL Lady© would do. And I cut her ass off. I Bo and Luke Duked my Camry up in front of her, looked back to see her response, and noticed that she wasn't too pleased with my decision. I then proceeded to remind her of her status as a dumb honkey hoe, by giving her a big thumbs up.

I USED THE WRONG FINGERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! I RUINED IT! I immediately put the CORRECT finger up to express the depth of my Christian rage. But it was too late.
Whatever. I got what I wanted. Fast forward to home. Spent the day buying surprise anonymous Chick Fil A gift cards to leave at the register for strangers to get their meals free. Paid for somebody's Starbucks. Bought a struggling family their Christmas.

And then asked this question on my Facebook:
Post your Christmas wishes here. Go.

Here were the answers I got:

  • A job.
  • Forgiveness
  • Wellness
  • A family who gets along well enough to speak to each other in a civilized manner. 
-Insert frozen SoL Lady© here-

I was immediately brought back to my thumbs  up to the lady I cut off the day before. And I realized that here I am. ChristmaschristmasCHRISTMASjesusJESUSchristmasBABYJESUSbirthdayCHRISTMAS!!!!!

Until you do something I don't like. Way to fail there self. We walk around surrounded by people who put on happy faces. Who have no Christmas. Who have no good health or loving families. Who don't even have a job. But they smile and try anyway. And here I am Mrs. SelfRighteous McButthole Pants over here. "I BOUGHT CHICK FIL A GIFT CARDS. HOW BOUT THAT! -middlefinger-". 

Who the hell do I think I am? Treating other human beings like so. As if I'm the only one who hurts. Eff my Chick Fil A Starbucks crap. The moment that we forget the depth of the possible pain of the ones we're surrounded by every day, is the moment that none of our acts of love matter. Love isn't a convenient thing. Anybody can spend a few bucks on a stranger. I'm not special. And neither are you when you contribute to the circle of hate and self centered nonsense that I so willingly helped to perpetuate the other day... when you  don't stop yourself in a moment that could be the few seconds that changes someone's life forever because you paid attention to them.

So I'm not asking you to chart somebody's menstrual cycles. Or spend a day researching their medical problems. I'm just asking that you hold your thumbs up. Try to train yourself by maybe putting a Post-It on your car dashboard. Reminding yourself to be sweet. Because it's the little things y'all. They add up to something greatly momentous in the lives of those struggling with hurt. 

To the broken hearted, and the hurting and depressed. And the given up and alone in a mean family. The unemployed jobless feeling like a failure. To you. I'm sorry. I wish I could take it all away. I can't. But I can make sure that the hurt stops with me in the moments when I'd like to keep it going to make myself feel better. 

xo. xo xo xo.