I think that within the bellies of the whales that we call US government and places like the Vatican, only then will we really know truth.
We’ve been purposely left in the dark for generations now. For instance, it’s taken more than 50 years to get some answers about JFK’s murder plot and it’s still only based on people who dedicated their time to dig and dig and dig.
We still don’t know what exactly went down with how Europeans got here, whether Native tribes really hunted against one another or not, why JFK, MLK, RFK were assassinated, John Lennon, Manson’s LSD CIA experiments in San Francisco, and what Marilyn must’ve known. Princess Diana, Bay of Pigs, 9/11…I can go on and on but the point is – we forget and our entire past generation is now digitized without permanency like books or scrolls or anything.
It made me think about Games of Thrones. I keep coming back to that movie because I feel like it’s a fairytale based on our same structure today.
Sam had to infiltrate the ancient library to get access to the chained and hidden books so he could learn how previous generations beat the evil white walkers who got past the great wall that was built to protect human civilizations from becoming undead like them. He was also the rare person who learned to read. And in other languages. He came from higher middleman wealth opportunity.
So the truth – Why is it all locked up and why are only a handful of perverted old guys allowed to know while everyone continues to fight wars and rape and pillage villages?
How were we utilizing drone technology to measure and master atomic bomb clouds in the 40’s? How did we keep doing it and move the operation to Vegas desert ditches once the island people began dying of cancers? I saw all that with my own eyes at the Atomic Bomb museum.
We didn’t learn about drones until I was an adult. So 90’s? 00’s?
I could go on and on because I wonder what really was life like? It’s only what we’re told and it gets sketch and best guess from people who research and make speculations that are solid enough to be plausible and therefore accepted.
Like what Dinosaurs looked like from skeletons and how they all disappeared.
Or how we got here and what we’re supposed to do.
And if we really are alone in the galaxy.
Who knows. Maybe even in the Vatican or in the bowels of Area 51 we could find answers. Maybe not. But they sure as shit got a lot of old pervs guarding them with forces beyond our ability to infiltrate. That’s fo sho.
So. As I sit here, reflecting on my ‘free day’ I decided to take for my birthday, I want to write down my thoughts and speculations of what I’ve been thinking and learning to fill this big unknown void of crucial information into a good darn time anyway.
Let’s do it. What do we have to lose?
I think laughter is an amazing medicine and healer of internal pain.
I love good, big belly laughs that actually give abs a mini workout you can still feel after the laugh has passed.
If you want one that is sure to work, here’s a hilarious bit to watch about Koolaid. Gets me laughing every time.
There’s many places to find good belly laughs. It takes talking with people and then listening and learning funny stuff. So many stories are shared. I think my brother Greg is a funny storyteller. He can get on a roll every time. Just takes some Jack on a Friday.
I think everyone should laugh as much as possible and let the little stuff go.
I think that every story has different interpretations if more than one person witnesses or experiences something.
I think people, myself included, can get stuck in the negative parts of the past because that’s the replay of the tape in your head that we’re wired to do.
The story I told about my small but noticeable hand scar and the years I spent hiding it with shame of how I got it versus the brave true tale of how I overcame it and was rather badass for it.
I think we should rethink what meditation really is and speak of it differently. We all have our inner self that is us in the mirror are entire lives. We aren’t nice to ourselves many of the time and there’s a need to sync your body action voice with your internal conscience voice. Trippy I know, but when the two of you are speaking to each other, whether it’s saying don’t eat that last piece of pie or telling you you look awful in that dress – it’s time you sit a spell and figure out why you so harsh to yourself.
It’s that undisturbed time of staring, sitting, laying – and digging deep within what motivates you to do what you do or think what you think. It’s quite a discovery when you can start connecting dots of patterns in yourself while also finding the good in what can be found in the bad.
I know a lot of people who have a lot of bad to live with. Loss, abuse, addiction, poverty, incarceration, system trapped, divorce – you name it. Some overcome it and some don’t. Internally or externally. Meaning some people escape and overcome yet still get haunted inside themselves from the trauma or impact of it all.
While we are awake and fixing school curriculums, I think mediation time should be added in. Imagine – even if 15-20 minutes a day, everyone just lays on the gym floor or better yet on the football field or field and just lays there with chill music and get in touch with thoughts. peaceful time development. It’s an important skill to work on. I’m trying. And It’s growing on me and I’m noticing more things and thinking alot for positives.
It’s sad to be stuck with that and the only way to find some peace and calm is by creating time for peace and calm to work it out. Even if all you do is work it out that this is something you’ll always deal with, you’ll be able to identify it when the cycle starts up to curtail it. PTSD identifiers at least begin predictability patterns to begin the journey of healing. I think.
I think about the soldiers or people who sustain injuries that alter their bodies for the rest of their lives and how you always have that reminder of that event and that is hard. While others may get tattoos to make sure they always remember something or someone on purpose. Or both.
I think holding yourself accountable to being nicer to yourself is a must. I catch myself saying such mean things to myself that I wouldn’t dare ever say to another person. Except maybe all those disgusting elite fame and fortune ego seekers who sold out humans for their own gains. I could be this mean to them.
Yet still, I catch myself and say knock it off. Quit being a B. Why would you say that to your person? Don’t you get it – when we get along and like each other, magic happens around you. So shut up and say something nice. I’m trying. Geesh.
When I was single for a couple solid years and raising my daughter alone, I had a lot of fear and was still living in the self blame shame game and thinking no one would see me as worthy of real love, I still naturally worked hard and loved my child fiercely enough to find a way to love myself, too.
After all, there were too many moments of validation that I was worthy and magical when I believed it.
So I looked at where I was and how all that horrible crap was behind me. It wasn’t going to happen anymore. Sure, I still lived in fear because I was scared of the real threat of home invasion, possible violence, affording the bills, keeping my daughter safe. I still had more work to do so we could get further out of it.
I remember when I bought my first house and it was nice. I had to take care of it all by myself and Bree and I had so much fun there. Sure, she slept with me behind a locked door within a locked house and a knife and can of pepper spray secretly hidden between the mattress and box spring but I enjoyed all those snuggles and wouldn’t change it.
We had extra bedrooms to build a total Barbie room complete with ferris wheel and vacation houses.
By 1997 or 98 I was taking breakfast and lunch shifts at the local café and four day shifts at the juvenile facility so we could go further into independence. I used my tax refund and bought a computer. I started writing like I do today. I am so curious to find out one day what I put on all those floppy discs and what my truths were at that point in my life.
I remember they started selling predesigned printer paper so you could make your own flyers or certificates and stuff. That was pretty cool at the time. I bought a packet of 25 sheets that were rainbow or tie dye colors lightly behind it and I typed a message to myself on it.
I can’t remember the exact wording, but the gist of it was that I deserved to be happy and I am worth it and it’s all going to be ok if I make it so. Oh and that I’m beautiful like everyone else.
I painted murals on my doors and walls anytime I got the urge and had a passion for freeing Tibet. It’s no longer a country, but back then it still existed and was just getting genocided by China CCP. It’s China now.
Back then I went to the local sports and shirt printing shop and had a T Shirt made. There was only lettering available, velvet touch and arial font. So I had a white shirt and the black letters were to say “Free Tibet”.
I remember the old guy had a long white beard and was thin. He was confused and asked me to say it again. Then, for the third time he had me write it out on the order tablet carbon paper.
He showed a sign of relief on his face and then said something to the effect of – I thought you were saying ‘Free to Bed’ and I wouldn’t recommend you would want something like that on your shirt.
Haha. I won’t forget that. I wore the crap out of the shirt. Somewhere I have the letters cut into a square. That was about ten years later when the shirt was shot and the new rave was t shirt quilts.
I ended up with another Free Tibet shirt about ten years ago and still wear it. I find it funny today that here we are with the realization that we tolerate war so long as it’s not in our backyard. That’s a shame really.
I think we should purposefully not support countries that openly abuse their people. At this point though, that’s everyone. We just don’t realize it because they abuse us mentally and with taxes and targeted oppression zip codes for profits.
What do I know. I’m just a West Virginia girl who went off to Iowa to eventually be a teen mom in the system with a bi-racial child in a judgemental society while the Clinton’s media was inciting racial fueled riots in the big blue cities while a rampant Flu A strain was preventing anyone to visit senior citizens and it was also an election year. I remember the day I dropped out of high school because there was no way I could afford daycare and attend classes, and I hated everyone there for how I was treated. Except maybe 5-10 people of course. The gems.
I focus on them, not the assholes. I want nice people to live rent free in my head.
The principal told me I was going to be nothing but a statistic and I was making a huge mistake. I let him know the only mistake was not doing it sooner and getting out of a place where no one had my back. Then waddled my butt home.
I took my GED as a drop out sophomore and didn’t even need to finish it or write the essay. Since I took the test at the local community college and they knew my GPA was near perfect, I was allowed to enroll and get busy while waiting out the next two years til I could get the piece of paper that said I had a GED. You can’t get it until the May date your class graduates.
They had a daycare called Tiger Tots and I was able to get their aid to let her go there while I was in class. Choices of degrees back then weren’t so crazy now, they were rather limited. So I majored in broadcast journalism with a minor in business.
I have stories there too. I was the youngest person on campus I believe. Since I was a minor, I wasn’t allowed to ask for welfare or foodstamps or housing aid so I had to stay home. Once I was 17.5 I was able to finally get an income apartment and benefits so I could keep taking classes and try to finish.
I ended up working to get off that system. I didn’t like it. But it really helped for a crucial time of trying to gain independence.
It’s a great bandaid for sure. Just not my career choice. I wanted to be in advertising.
Security guard was what I ended up with, but that worked for us to get by.
So college took a back seat again. Especially when I started to see the assholes popping up in the hallways at my college. They flipping graduated and had their proms and there they were.
Isn’t that funny? I at the time seemed to be cutting myself out of success for the simple weakness of being around other people that weren’t nice to me. Yet in retrospect, I’m not mad at me for making it even harder than it already was because I stood by my character and knew I wasn’t going to be happy if I was constantly in fight or flight mode with imbeciles. And today, I feel so peaceful that I pray every dickhead or mean girl found their happiness and peace so they didn’t reproduce more assholes. I wish them all good vibes and love thoughts.
Seriously. Plus, I’m kinda glad that principal said that to me. It pissed me off enough to prove him wrong.
I think there are people that if they ever come to their senses, will have their own choices and behaviors to work out with themselves and eventually, as the amazing Aaron Lewis will tell – everyone talks to God.
So today on my birthday. I have random thoughts. I thanked God for giving me another birthday and hope he’ll give me 46 more so long as I can still wipe myself and think for myself. Otherwise, when all that happens. He knows what I mean.
I think happiness is seeing things in the moment and being open to seeing whatever it may be.
I think that when people are seeking their purpose and understanding of why they are here, in their body and zip code that they didn’t choose, that’s when magic happens. I believe it so much that I think if we could all help one another – for reals – not for profit but by following the commandments – we could create a power unsurmountable to eradicate the power of evil elites who seek to use us as their sacrifice for greed.
I was in Nashville for the weekend visiting family and we went to the city center for tourism sake. It’s WAY busier than I remember, even three years ago. It’s a certified mini Hollywood now. Thanks celebrities. You’ve successfully inflated and overstressed a hidden gem for country and made it more of the same trash you left behind. And homes are tripled in value and tripled in demand. Beverly Hills crazies have eff you money up the ying yang and are used to inflated luxury so for them, it’s easy to outbid us regular folk just wanting to pursue a dream.
It’s insane. Everywhere that was once normal is. I can’t even afford a semi-decent home in Wellsburg WV! WTH. Well, New Yorkers are buying up the old mansions and companies are rolling in and buying up the junk and making complexes. Dicks.
I think of the scene in Shameless where the neighbors were trashing Lip’s hard landscaping work because they don’t want those damn yuppies coming in and raising their housing and taxes. They can’t afford to live as it is!
The divide keeps getting father and father out. On a positive note, the family I have there has been there since it was normal living and now have alot of equity should they ever decide to sell. It’s a great place. I’m so happy for them.
If you haven’t noticed an uptick in mental health and homelessness in towns that you don’t recall ever seeing it before… You’re right.
This is what our politics in current hands across government, media, Hollywood, education, corporate, pharma gets us. We let them take the hallways and run with it. And our children.
Back to my story. Nashville. Where you’re either in the hoods and chance the crime, or you need $500k plus for a modest ranch with 1.5 baths and some sweat labor required.
My humble 1750 house with a finished basement on a large lot would fetch a cool $Million if the zipcode were Franklin, TN. Every country singer now has a bar and merch to feed the tourism wallets and keep driving it up. The houses get bigger.
I saw a lot of homeless there. They tend to always be around the cities where celebrities live and play.
Or the cities big enough to afford their franchise lifestyle.
Now, I’m not blaming them. Just the ones that look the other way at large scale abuse of women or children. You know, the ones who go to Epstein island or lick Bill Gates’ balls. The ones who met R Kelly’s teen love slaves who can’t see teir parents anymore. The ones who faked a saline injection for Instagram likes and bailed all those Antifas out of jail with their eff you money they got cause we paid to watch or hear their acting lies. Just those ones.
The ones who use their fame for the betterment of humanity are all great.
I’m not sure who they all are, but there’s still some out there. I think. I Pray.
Man see what happens when I am just writing as it comes to me. Haha. Speaking of, I have more than one year without Facebook, Twitter or Instagram and it’s a good thing for me and myself. I miss a lot of cool happiness through friends posts yet when I actually see them, I get to hear it all genuinely first hand and see pictures shared by their phones so it kind of makes the interaction more meaningful.
I’m going to try to stop LinkedIn, Amazon Prime this year. Wish me luck! It’s a slow long process because everything we know is now unlocked enough to peak in and make some suspicious yet plausible theories about what their motivation to do it was all about. Like I’m pretty sure we’re lab rats and sacrificial to them all. Just saying.
I think if you knowingly hurt other people for your own personal gain and justify it because you deem yourself more worthy or important than another soul – yeah. You got issues. Yet the libraries are locked.
I think we know what causes cancers, and keep testing new chemicals to find out what other cancers erupt to keep the funding up for pills and medical stuff. I think we know what causes autism and all the other ‘new’ diseases we accept as normal.
And we’ve spent how many decades getting an annual flu shot that may or may not work but is better than nothing…. Or, should it be known that perhaps the flu shots are what is keeping the flu alive and well year after year? I think it’s worth asking.
If anyone would tell us.
Maybe in 75 years they’ll admit the shots are causing all the heart attacks and cancer accelerants. That’s about how long it will take to get all the pages released of the documents they already have and know about.
Back to Nashville.
As we were circling around the round about of naked statues as my husband calls it, I was staring out in my own thoughts, oblivious to conversations happening around me. I was in the third row backseat and noticed the most beautiful thing.
I locked in and observed it until I couldn’t see them anymore because the 12 feet tall naked people blocked it.
It was rather chilly for Nashville the first week of April. The sun was shining though. What would you call it, a grassy knoll? Lol. It was a large grass patch in front of a city building of some kind with park benches along the edge but set well within the sidewalk.
There were two old guys. One was laughing so hard he had his head flipped so his face was upward to the sun and he stayed there in his moment of enjoyment for a few seconds. He had longer white hair so it was hanging down straight and jostling about while he continued to cackle. His right hand was pressed against his stomach and he was sitting sideways so his body was facing the other man sitting with him.
It was clear whatever the other man said was what set off this deep belly laugh that made me smile just wondering what the hell was so damn funny. A support chuckle, I suppose.
The man next to him on the bench was sitting straight, facing the building that hosted the grass yard. I couldn’t tell if it was an actual ascot or scarf, but he clearing had some warmth wrapped around his neck. Smaller black sunglasses just a hair bigger than his eyes, exposing his eyebrows which he lifted in a way to nod to himself he successfully told a funny.
He looked pleased with himself as he turned away from the laughing man, which was facing me directly now. He took a big puff of his lit cigar and began releasing it as puffs upward in the air as the other man continued to laugh.
Both were clearly loving their moments each equally. That’s good company right there. Good for them, I thought.
Then the sentiment went a level deeper. I noticed the man laughing was wearing cut off slacks, perhaps? They were khaki in color and cut just above the knee. And he wasn’t wearing shoes or socks. He bare feet were rocking up and down as he belted his genuine laughter.
His long hair was untamed for some time.
The other man has a tattered coat and I couldn’t tell you if that burgundy something around his neck were a child’s hoodie or sweatshirt style scarf. He wore it well though. Etsy has nothing on this humorous story teller who likes cigars at 10 am.
I immediately went to the thought of Randolph and Mortimor of Trading Places. I haven’t seen that movie in more than 20 years but I remember the characters as these two old gentlemen in stereotypical homeless attire were sitting in the park when it’s rather cold outside.
Who knows, maybe they weren’t at all. Maybe they just choose to dress that way. I don’t know that I’ll ever know the true story of those two guys that day and I don’t mind at all. It was a moment of joy I got to see and proof that any circumstance can heal when you have it.
I’m glad they are there for one another in their own time here.
A good laugh is worth it.
Next up, now that the veil has been lifted on all this crazy ‘we want your kids’ crap happening and all the plausible theories as to how they feed off of it all, I’ve been thinking about Disney movies.
I am pissed that this is gonna have to be a thing because Disney is engrained into every freaking kid since like the 40’s or something. And now it’s so insane that they are one of the Big 6 who own everything. They own so much outside of Mickey Mouse that you’d need a PHD in business to break it all down.
I have to tell myself that we are ok with letting me still enjoy it and spoil my grandkid with princess dolls and building a snowman because there is still meaning in some of their films, even if the people who made them are corrupt sickos.
For instance. Monsters Inc.
The fact that we prove laughter is more powerful than fear and screams could ever be – which is true – why are we so full of fear because they tell us and let it keep happening… I mean, if they really feed and profit off fear and we spend our whole lives working and working in fear of being broke, alone, a burden, sick…and forget how to just live and be spouses, parents, kids, friends, neighbors and more – how can no one see that if we say NO and make good be good for real and hold accountable every person who isn’t instead of looking away – couldn’t we be like Monsters Inc and change the whole power grid?
The Lion King… what if. Just what if Scar is really the elitists and Mufasa is the regular people and Simba is our kids who run away in shame because they’re indoctrinated by Scar who makes them believe everything is their fault until the truth finally comes when the kingdom is ready to crumble and burn cause they let all the hyenas and evil in and they find Simba who had the power to fix it all along and was SO loved by everyone and supported and he didn’t even know it.
So he ate bugs. And got used to it.
Then, take ANY princess movie and look at the story. Good girl is abused by evil woman and overcomes it with the help of a man. How about this. Quit being evil women? Duh. Then nobody needs nobody to save them, just be their best partner friend ever.
I don’t need Mark to save me. I want him to.
And I want to save him if he ever needs it cause that’s what best friends do. And I choose him to spend my days in this body I didn’t choose but will make the absolute best of with faith and trust that good will always prevail in the form of truth.
I feel bad for people who live in baby daddy mentality zip codes. I can’t imagine living in the vicious cycle of trying to keep a wandering boychild because you are so desperate for a nuclear family and don’t love yourself enough to know you’re better off alone until you are strong enough to get off that sick love drug. Living in constant insecurity and lack of trust is like fight or flight survival mode and devastating. I wish our taxes would go to break these cycles and reinstate the rule that society don’t like guys who bail and cheat and make babies everywhere for us to raise on their behalf. Dicks.
Women could take care of women and take an oath to not be the other woman under any circumstances and fix it I think. I live by that oath and have a very happy life. Luckily my best friend feels the same way so he makes it easy to feel secure in that huge dealbreaker of a dilemma too many people face. How horrible. Twenty years in I couldn’t ever imagine and don’t want to any one else.
Just is what it is.
HaHa another funny story to me.
While visiting, we rented an adorable cottage in Leiper’s Fork for the weekend.
The first morning, it was almost warm enough to sit on the porch with coffee. A sweater required but the sun was so bright. I changed my mind when I remembered that when we arrived, It looked like there was a camera lens within the big knot of an old tree facing the house.
I stopped unlocking the door when I realized if that was a camera, I wasn’t sitting on a porch with someone on the other end able to see me. I realize I’d have a camera on the entrance to my rental, but that felt invasive to me. And very primitive technology for such a nice, remodeled cottage.
So that evening, my nephews are in the front yard playing around and I ask them to check out that thing on the tree and tell me if it’s a camera. Turns out, it’s the bottom of a brown beer bottle. So at some point and time, there was a hole in the tree and someone put a beer bottle top first into it and over the years, they fused together and became one.
That discovery turned our fun time outside to pretending the bottle like the Sword in the Stone Disney movie and we couldn’t get it out. That bottle wasn’t moving. It became the tree.
That was cool.
Thanks for reading. Hope you find happy moments every day. They’re out there. Waiting for you.