Tell me what you want what you really really want.

#whatailsya – Quit beating around the bush. For every question asked, there is an answer that is desired. Are you brave enough to say why you want to know? Give a listen to this video for a new take on questions. Feel free to sing in the tune of Sam Smith – Swaaaaa(y) with me! 😀

Eat it or starve.

Today is the 2nd Day of Christmas.  I celebrate the 12 Days of Christmas, not because my birthday happens to fall in the middle – that is just ICING – but because it helps (me) to keep the true meaning alive.  So, we all know what “my true love gave to me” yesterday.  #BESTgiftEVER.  Today, my true love gave to me “two turtle-doves”.  Now, what exactly are turtle-doves anyway?  Turtles that look/act like doves? Did some research and some text liken a turtle-dove to a pigeon.  Hmm, I can’t recall anyone except M. Tyson liking pigeons.  According to some text, turtle-doves were the only birds permitted in sacrifice.  Just a lil something to make you go hmmm.  “Look at the birds in the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them.”  “The L-rd is my shepherd, I shall not want.”  He feeds his flock, every day.  It may not be what you want, but want, you shall not.

Some say the two turtle-doves represent the Old and New Testament.  Like birds, you leave one and go to the other, but sooner or later you go/refer back to the old.  By today’s standards G-d might be considered a hoarder.  He had the Old and then made something New but kept the Old, you know, just in case.  He and my grandmother are good friends, she kept a lot of things, “just in case.”  #whatailsya

Til…Gr

There aren’t too many shows I watch but there are a few, among them Grace and Frankie.  Two women who, by societal standards, are in their golden years and find themselves single due to divorce.  Grace reunites with a love but there’s a catch – he’s married, but, his wife is terminal.  What’s a man to do?  He’s cared/caring for her but he has no companionship, none. Isn’t that one of the perks of being married – companionship.  I sat and pondered the question presented to Grace – should she engage in a relationship with Dude?  I saw here wrestle with it, go into the chapel and pray about it.  Is it wrong?  Is it merely giving into the flesh?  Where does the obligation end?  I found it quite interesting and for a moment, gave thought to what I’d do.  Can’t really say.  There’s something soulfully sad to have someone there/present and be utterly alone.

In Grace’s case, I’m not sure it was even about sex.  They appeared to enjoy each others company and maybe that’s all it was about, companionship.  Don’t we all need someone to talk to, to share our lives with?  Yes, we have Jesus, but it is not good for man to be alone.  Just because the body is there, are we to find comfort in that?  Such a difficult, yet rhetorical question.  For some, it’s obvious.  As Frankie says – “The vows say in sickness and in health” but there’s another part  “As long as we both shall live.”  The live part is debatable.  Are you really living?  Is it  possible to keep your vows – to love, honor, cherish, in sickness and in health, til death do you part – while not dying yourself?  Does the sickness of one mean the death of the other?  Does self preservation not have a say?

Again, it ain’t about the sex.  It’s about having someone there to attend to the needs.  But won’t Jesus attend to all your needs?  Surely, but again, we are charged to go forth and love one another.  Can that be done in the midst of another’s sickness?  It does give you pause, or at least it should.  When, exactly, does death occur?  Is it merely the cessation of all functions, it is the soul leaving the body, or is it the soul trapped in a lifeless body?

I don’t have any answers.  I’ve never found myself in that situation but I find it profoundly sad and complex.  Til, is a long time.  #whatailsya

London Bridge

“Shoot for the moon.  Even if you miss, you’ll fall amongst the stars.”  I don’t know who wrote this but OBVIOUSLY they never fell off a bike.  I didn’t fall amongst the stars but I did see stars.  Stars and birds and the tops of trees as I came crashing down to earth like the space shuttle on re-entry.   Yesterday was supposed to be my first century ride. I was ready but should have known it was going to be one of those days. Got to the site, all the air gone out my back tire. Gone.  Flat like snakeskin road kill.  No puncture, everything in tack. Get out the pump and I’m pumping and nothing. The tube isn’t catching, holding air. Thankfully Ed- the bike mechanic was on site. This caused me to miss the century start but I was going to do it anyway, just start later. Met up with some RWB people I know and rode out with them. Hadn’t even gone 10 miles, coming up the hill and I couldn’t tell you what happened to save my life. I was spinning, moving and all of a sudden that Ninja who jumps out and trips people, yeah, I think he got me. Tire went one way, bike went another and over I went. I was clipped in and the bike skidded out from under me and I thought my leg was getting detached below the knee. The pull from the bike pulled my left calf so hard, I fell back and landed on my elbow, butt/back. I was in a bike figure four. I hit the ground so hard my body looked like a chalk outline. Tried to get up and the Ninja grabbed that calf with a hot pair of tongs. You just don’t realize how secure you are clipped in to the bike until it’s time to fall.  I hobbled out of the road and got myself together. Off we go. I got separated from the RWB group and at the second rest stop I checked to see the damage. Bike was fine, there was/is a clicking that wasn’t there before so getting that looked at but my elbow was bleeding. Cleaned it up and went in my way. These weren’t hills. Nothing like what Atlanta has but they are false hills. You think you’re at the top, nope, not even close. Everything tightened up and I ran off the side of the road. Y’all know ain’t no curbs or shoulders on these rides. Lost the cap on my water bottle, nutrition splashing everywhere, lost then found my phone.  After the time spent searching for the bottle cap then the lost and found phone, I knew I wouldn’t make cutoff for the century so I decided to finish up with the metric. 13 miles left and there’s another false hill. Had to walk it. I felt like I was on the Autobahn, so many twists and turns. There was a turtle in the middle of the road, just chilling and I damn near ran off the road again trying to avoid him. About 3 miles left and I hear a truck coming up behind me. No big deal but dude didn’t get over as much as he could, so I was treated to a pebble shower. Now I have a knot and road rash on my elbow, my left side feels like I was at 2-a-day football practice and the bruise on my butt and hip looks like I was branded.  Wait, looks more like a medium done steak.  Just enough pink in the center and yes, quite tender.  Bright side is I did better my time from when I did 65 on my hybrid. Even though I was busted up, still had my gloss cuz, you know, I got priorities. . Oh and did I mention the bees that took a liking to my bike and ride with me, yeah, like I can out run a bee. It has been a day but I did not die. .

 

I’m always up for getting out of my comfort zone.  Getting out of my comfort zone shouldn’t involve bumps, bruises, slips, trips and falls; at least not to me.  Didn’t think I fell that hard but my body proved me wrong.  Another good thing is, since I was going to miss the century cutoff, I really got plenty of opportunities to practice shifting.  Yes, I got it down.  Coming off a nice descent, I was able to shift and maintain going up the hill.  SCORE!!

You should learn something every day.  I learned:  my nutrition program works, a little salt in my hydration won’t hurt, my shifting practice paid off and hills will always humble you.  John Mayer said it best “Gravity.  Stay the hell away from me.”  Now to sit back and re-evaluate, re-strategize but for now, I’m going to relax and ice my numb parts, massage the sore spots and continue to be a bright spot.  #whatails – a sore arm, hip, butt among other areas.

 

Run. Alice!!

Alice in Wonderland is a movie that I enjoy watching.  I don’t really have favorites because a favorite implies something that you never tire of watching.  I tire easily.

Though she be absent, my grand and I still have conversations. She had sleep technical difficulties and I, being her twin, inherited it. Restless Spirit is what I call it.  She and I are talking now.   It’s 12:26 AM and I can’t sleep and I have an idea why.  I’m not living/doing my purpose.  Not for lack of effort on my part, well maybe a little bit.  There’s this little thing called Adulting that I must engage in.  Some people my age, older and younger just say eff it and ignore the Rules of Adulting (RoA) all together.  They usually have a parent(s) who pick up the slack or some schmuck who is ok Adulting for them.  Yeah, I don’t have that luxury.  I’ve been Adulting since about age 7.  Nothing new, plenty of kids start Adulting way sooner than required.  No complaints, but hell, Adulting is exhausting and no one tells you the RoA because if you start as a kid, it’s basically OJT.   I get it now how people go absolutely BatCrap doing something they are good at that they don’t want to do.  I’m good at a lot of things, G-d made me that way.  I could/would excel (and normally do) at everything because I pick things up easily but if the heart isn’t in it, it’s just like mashing peas – a waste.

I feel like a slave.  No, that’s a lie.  I have no idea what it feels like to be a slave.  I can only project the images of what slave life was like onto my current situation.  Having to jump when someone says jump.  Answer the phone, respond, speak at the sound of the beep or else.  The work, I initially believed in but it became as mundane as running on the treadmill and worse yet, yielded no benefits.  Least you can reap gains from da mill.  It has become obsolete, as productive as the hamster on the wheel – it/I am going/go nowhere.

To some I may sound ungrateful but who cares.  Not asking you to agree, understand or even read.  I’m writing this because it’s what I’m supposed to do, called to do.  Simply, what I do.  Every day I leave my home and particularly on the weekend, I see a world that I resent. There, standing on the corner, every corner is someone begging.  Old people, young people, individuals, teams, everybody wants something.  Jesus said give to all who ask.  Obviously, he was talking to/about the middle class.  We give to every body.  No body gives us shit.  The rich give to themselves and/or other rich.  The poor, hell, everybody gives to the poor.  Who gives to the middle class?  The Middle Class. We – The MC pours into every class/caste/population on Earth/America and people wonder why/how we’re running on empty.  One can only run off of blood/sweat/piss/tears for so long. People get tired.  I.  Am.  Tired.

I listen to Republicans, Democrats, Green party, Tea party, coke party, choke party, IDFAF party and every one in between.  Every one saying the same thing about the same issues about the same people.  Social Security (what exactly is that again?), Healthcare (even working people can’t afford that), Education (pre/elementary/high/post secondary/higher) let’s be honest – everybody isn’t cut out for school and just should go,  Children (this might get me some enemies but Everyone does not love the kids), Military (we’ve got to do better by our Vets) – what else is there?  Everyone talking about “Make America great again” or “America is already great”  Listen, America, if that’s her real name, can take care of herself, if we let her.  She’s been around since before Jesus was born and was, by all accounts, doing pretty well.  We humans have a way of getting hold of something and completely removing all evidence of what it once was – pure, simple, good.  I remember when I came of age to vote, there was a saying going around during election time “Ask yourself if you’re better off now than you were 4 years ago.”  I never quite understood that because the person sitting in the Oval Office had absolutely nothing to do with where I was or would be going in the span of 4 years.  Wait, I take that back, they had a hand in how hard it would be for me to maneuver, but even that was still up to me.  That question only really mattered to rich people and poor people.  Middle class people; technically, we’re still the same.  Time has marched on, we’ve aged, we’ve lost, we’ve gained (maybe) but we’re still pouring into others and no one, it seems, is pouring into us.

People die at the hands of each other.  People die at the hands of another.  Those in power should know better.  Those who want power should do better.  Let’s keep it real – No lives matter.  If they did, we’d do better by the people who are living, trying to live, trying.

Funny thing is, this isn’t even me writing this.  I mean, I good, don’t get me wrong, but when you get in the zone, when words, lyrics, energy flows without need for breath,  food, air, you MUST KNOW that it is something Not of This World.   I’ve always believed that, which is why I say I’m GoodWithPen (none good but the Father, from whom this gift flows).  I was hesitant about letting my gift flow because, you know, that whole Adulting BS but this is my test of faith (that’s a whole different story).  I may get fired but I haven’t said anything implicating, merely voiced my opinion, which I actually put down on my recent evaluation, lol.   I understand why people (who have money) are hesitant to take stand on political issues.  They’ve got a lot to lose but my faith ain’t always been high. Always been there, lurking beneath the surface like algae, catfish, termites under the crawlspace.  Can’t see it, can’t hear it, but you know it’s there.  My faith is private.  You should see my faith my actions. So when I see people in positions who do/don’t speak out, that, to me, is an exercise of faith.  If you lose something because you stood up for (what you believe to be/have been) injustice, do you believe He will restore what you lost?  Fence straddling, waffling, pan flipping, coal jumping it can be dangerous and if nothing else, looks exhausting.  It’s akin to going to a buffet and standing in front of the menu board for hours because you’re afraid to make a decision.  To make a choice.  What if I choose wrong?  You can send it back, throw it away, give it away.  Speak out, that could mean death, take that how you will.

I am not oppressed.  More restricted but again, the whole Adulting thing but I’m making strides to get back to Childing, you know when you could do shit and it be excused because you were a kid.  Be like Ryan Locte- embarrass an entire nation and be given ample opportunities.  Let’s see how many opportunities come my way should this be viewed as embarrassing.  Let’s see if I can Locte this to my advantage (yes, he has become a verb).

I’m sure there are plenty of people who have similar feelings, sentiments, thoughts, etc.  Maybe not as deep, maybe deeper, maybe not at all.  At times, most times, the majority of the time Do you care?  Really?  Do you feel what you do is making a difference?  Be the change you want to see in the world?  That drop in the ocean gets lost and add no value to rivers, lakes and streams fed by the ocean.  The ocean does not need our tears.  It, like America was/is self-sufficient until we got involved.

I had the opportunity once to chat with someone who confided that they’d contemplated self-murder.  I asked why.  Their answer was one of mutual feeling.  “The world is such a shitty place to each other, I get sad every time I see it.”  I found it to be the saddest, most truthful thing anyone had every said to me.  People don’t like truth.  No matter how it’s delivered, and my delivery can be comically brash at times, but hey, whatever.

I recall working at the post office just after graduation and we couldn’t talk but we could listen to music.  People would listen to, the now defunct Don Immus – you remember him.  He called a woman’s basketball team a group of “nappy headed whoes” or something to that effect.  But during his show, when readers would call in, most would predictably and cheerfully and regularly ask him “How are you?” and his response is something I’ve followed to this day.  He would say “Do you care?”  Why are you asking how a person is?  Because society dictates it’s the polite thing to do.  Really, do you care?  Be honest.  No.  Why?  Because you have your own troubles to care about and that person’s troubles may be just a bit too much for you to bear.  Or, maybe they just don’t want to hear it.  Maybe, they just, don’t care.  And you know what, that’s really ok.  Don’t say things you don’t mean.  Don’t give people false hope.  Don’t pretend to be something that you aren’t.  If you don’t like something or someone, there has to be a reason.  Whether or not that reason makes sense to someone else, doesn’t matter.  Those are your feelings, they are valid.  Own them, don’t run or hide from them.  Be true to yourself.  Few of us can do that, particularly women, for we may be labeled a bitch.  Well, be a bitch and make no apologies for it.  Don’t be a dick, that’s just unnecessary.  Just because you hold power and can wield it, doesn’t mean you should.  Exercise discretion.  Exercise restraint.

It’s now 1:56AM and my grand and I are still conversing.  My RHEMAn is still at work and I am tired but still the music flows.  Music.  The universal G-d. Accepted by everyone in some form.

“Just like fire, burning out the way, if I could light the world up for just one day

Watch this madness, colorful charade, no one can be just like me anyway

Just like magic,  I’ll be flying free, Imma disappear when they come for me

I kick that ceiling what you gonna say, no one can be just like me anyway.” Pink

 

G-d gave Noah a sign.  No more water, The Fire Next Time.