Month: June 2015

It’s nice to hear yourself type

To escape this world full of hype

And this senseless shit that burns a hole

Into your life’s plan and goal

For doing nothing but being yourself

Different from the other dolls on the shelf

What’s wrong with being your own

You know that you’ll walk the path alone

And you didn’t ask for any to follow

When you were just trying to stop the flow

Of this sickening world that they’ve created

Where each new idea is immediately hated

Yet here I am listening to my own words

As I fly away from the other birds…

~ geocko

Writing helps me keep my mind active.  There is only so much mental stimulation to be gotten from the stupid cat we adopted at the end of 2010.  It makes my laugh when it falls off the top of my husband’s recliner as the mailman deposits mail in our mail slot that comes in to the coat closet in the front room of our house.  Always the bright point of my day!  Falling cat.

Trying to develop a method to overcome writer’s block.  Had a plethora of ideas when I thought about getting back into writing, but they went in on ear and didn’t make it back out the other side.  Used to write all the time when I was little.  Don’t know when I lost the spark!

Had more friends and activities when I was younger.  My second cousin, who we were friends long before my grandma told us…

Why has our right to commit suicide when our health starts to deteriorate been removed from our possibilities?  I do not want to drain my family’s financial resources to extend my life.  Hospitals make me nervous and sick.  If I already am confined to a wheelchair (which I am) and cannot do the things I used to do for pleasure, why am I forced to continue taking medicines for survival?  It does not make me feel any better. My grandfather died of so many forms of cancer that even his doctors were amazed he lasted so long.  His suffering was bad enough that my grandma told me not to visit anymore, since he perked up after my visits.  So I moved far away.  Did manage to arrive at his funeral, since I knew he did not want the local VFW involved in it.  Grandpa was a retired Navy sailor.  He taught…

Growing up in a small town, where there were no people of color, we learned about Martin Luther King in history. We had no life experiences to base the lessons we were taught on. Until I left for college it was rare for me to run into anyone outside the snotty white people I grew up with.

In college I got to hang around with all sorts of people. Some where not from America. No one was any meaner than the people I grew up with.

My dream was shattered though back in college, when I found out you had to be over five feet four inches tall to become an astronaut. I am several inches shorter than that. There is nothing I can do to change my height.  I got diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 1996. Pretty well put the final grasps at the dream to rest when I…

For those following the Archives, you may recall that last week I was watching the mystery buds of the Plumeria tree. These are the first, since the Bohemian and I planted it a year ago, and our family has been curious to see the color of the blooms.

It’s the first and only tree we’ve planted at our abode, so far. And being that its roots are surrounded by the remnants of the leis we wore at our wedding, it has a special significance to us.

We’ve been excited to see the budding, and eagerly observing the unfoldment of the flowers as they reveal their hue.

And now here they are, full bloom.

If you ask the Bohemian about the day we met (that fateful day at the beach, when I walked passed him on the sand), he’ll say that he saw pink. That as he watched me pass…

Nature’s most beautiful present
Thrown on arrival of someone
of no importance to history
Then feet and bin its fate
Humanity that much cruelty
Even plants hate