Responsible 2

The families impacted by the mass shooter in Texas should sue the irresponsible gun owner who did not store his weapons carefully enough to prevent mass murder.

Sue their guns off.

The next gun owner who is careless enough to let a family member or friend gain access or possession of their firearms should be prosecuted for accessory to murder or criminal negligence.

The NRA shouldn’t have a problem with responsible gun ownership.

Picture Perfect

I love this photo of my grandparents. Young and newly married. They look serious and somber, but handsome.

gma and gpa

I only knew my grandmother as an old woman, but here she looks full of thoughts and feelings.

I think this frame is a perfect fit. Does my grandpa look like Ralph Fiennes?? To me, yes. LOL

Here’s to you, Gram and Gramps. To a lifetime of love and loyalty.


Featured pic is their home in Missouri during the depression and war.

Done

Where do I begin?
Arriving here at echo’s end
Addiction strikes at the hearts of men
Stabs at the particulars of then
Wishing for what wouldn’t have been
Cover my ears at the deafening din
Sickening twinge of crawling skin
Swirling aversion to carnival ride spin
Falling smack on pavement’s grin
Forget the times of remembering when
You were never faithful, Friend
You were plastic and porcelain
Intemperate as the warping wind
I’m tired of taking hits on the chin
The problem lies within, therein
Buttoned-up so you won’t break in
It’s not a matter of who will win
I simply won’t come to this again
I wash my hands of this selfish sin

Responsible

What I’m about to type is a very conservative, fundamental, controversial viewpoint about the state of confusion in which we find ourselves. If you have factual evidence to contradict me, you can comment peacefully below. Thanks.


We are in the clean-up stages of yet another school shooting. The media is competing for your viewership/readership with breaking details about why this happened. We all know why this happened. A crazy person with a GUN, a crazy person without a fully developed frontal lobe shot multiple other human beings because they lost (or never had) the ability to respect life. And we are responsible. Everyone. Every single person who touched this boy’s life is responsible.

That would include: the media, video game designers, his CHURCH, parents who don’t store their guns properly, gun manufacturers, fellow students, teachers, parents of peers, social media, t-shirt manufacturers, school administration, the girl who let four months of harassment culminate in an explosive humiliation of her peer, anyone who saw something and didn’t say something, magazine manufacturers (publications and bullet-holders), pornography of all kinds, mental health counselors. The whole damn confusing world is responsible for this bullshit.

Oh. Not you?

Really?

In a culture that allows women to strip, or pretend to strip, for money? We are responsible. We allow teens, even accidentally, access to guns? Responsible. We do not love others unconditionally? Responsible. We have turned away from modesty, decency, restraint and community? Responsible. We have turned from God or love to love of money, guns or beauty? Responsible.

We teach young men to look at the height of beauty, to desire an image, but we ask them to control their biological impulses. Look, but don’t touch. Unless I want you to. #metoo Confusion!

Magazines today are the cock-tease of the world. Without modesty, we are definitely confusing those males who are underdeveloped and ill-equipped to sort out boundaries. We tease them with beauty, love and acceptance. We sell fantasy. Then reject them. Then we allow them access to a gun.

It’s easy to point to the parents, the teachers in that school district, to guns. But what are we actually doing about loving others? Not tempting our brother? Reaching out for the least of these and not humiliating them, getting them help? How can we pursue our personal freedom if someone else is being shot, struggling to eat, or threatening to end their life or the life of others? What are we teaching our young daughters? How to conduct themselves with modesty and kindness or get what they want at any cost?

Before we crucify another boy for mental illness and murder, should we not ask ourselves what needs to change in addition to stricter gun laws? How can I change what’s happening? How can I conduct myself in a safe, respectable, responsible way to impact the world? If I am continually harassed, what can I do to change that? If I don’t want to be thought of in a certain way, if I want to be honored for something other than my body am I offering the world my mind OR my tits, ass, and latest makeup tips? Am I projecting an image to the world that helps or hurts? What makes girls or women of any age think they receive love for showing their body?

Unfortunately, the people that ask these questions aren’t the ones picking up a gun to solve their problems. The world is lost. We are lost until we are loved. Who loved that boy enough to keep him and others from harm?

You can howl at the government and gun makers to reform, but what about our own God-forsaken communities that allow this shit to happen? It takes a village, right? It takes a village to humiliate a murderer. It takes a village to reject a human being. It takes a village to let another boy slip through the cracks. It takes a village to stop this insanity. It takes a village to save another batch of students from slaughter.

We have sold and sacrificed our youth on the altar of money, lust and greed. And it will keep happening until we love everyone. Even the killers. He wasn’t a killer, until he killed.

It will keep happening as long as we are confused, distracted and obsessed with things/power rather than people. God help us.

Feels

Why do I like to hurt myself?


I have ugly cried in the mirror since I was young. Like since I was 10-ish?

I have made faces, had pretend conversations, made-up television interviews, fake arguments, indignant tirades, rousing speeches–all delivered to my own reflection. For over 30 years.

Does anyone else do that?

Is this a completely narcissistic exercise that sane people don’t engage in?

Or is this a honing of craft?

I have no idea. But I am compelled to do it. It’s not something I even consciously do. I just do it. I can’t help it. It would be harder to stop than changing my name.

In fact, call me Janet.

I have imagined being someone else for most of my life. Smarter, prettier, funnier, nobler. Stronger.

I have imagined being a surgical nurse on MASH, powering an entire corporation as a CEO, commanding WW2 troops on the beaches, dangling from the peaks of Colorado.

I don’t actually want to do those things. I just want to act like I’m capable of those things.

Most of the time, people walk around completely obtuse about their own power, capability or talent.

Who am I? What do I like? What can I live with? What can I live without? What am I really good at?

But I’ve known. KNOWN. For a large chunk of my life. That I can act.

I became good at acting because I was good at lying and pretending. I used acting to have a voice and power. I was so lost that I didn’t know who I was. I needed other people’s words to stand in the place of my own. Until I found my own words. I needed a voice for all the horrible feelings I had.

My superpower is acting. My salvation is expression.

I only acted like I cared about other people. Or myself. Until one day, I did.

Thank you, Acting. You saved me.

Grace

Utterly gutted
My brain is flooded
Drowning in blood and emotions
Liquid chemicals straining
Against solid flesh remaining
Doused in prayers and devotions

I won’t come to this again
Back from then to when and been
I am not my past
I am sufficiently stronger
Able to convincingly conjure
Armor to withstand this blast

Strength does not lie in hate
Patience does not lie in wait
Peace lies in the discipline of love
Resolve comes from compromise
Insight from understanding eyes
Grace feathers down like a dove

From 2015: So You Got a Little Damp

BB–before blog 🙂


so, i’m standing outside in the rain this morning, waiting for the bus with Lil. we only have one umbrella. so i give it to her. i can get wet, but if she got soaked, she’d be miserable all day. at least i can come in and dry off. it’s cold and a little breezy, but not too bad. it was chilly, but if just a tad warmer, not at all terrible. it made me think of when i was somewhere between the age of 5-8. for the life of me, i can’t remember how old i was. but it was an experience i would never forget.

it’s raining outside and my sister and i come up with a great idea. let’s put on our bathing suits and go stand in the rain on the porch. what would mom say? OMG! she said yes. what?? so we put on our bathing suits and we go outside. all i can see is about 3 feet in front of me. it’s raining hard. no lightning and it’s quite warm. a warm summer soaker. it’s so hard to see. so we start pretending that we are waterskiers on the back of a boat and hold on for dear life. i think we even had a rope that we tied around the railing of the deck and that was our tow rope. we leaned back and ski’d like pros. i even had the sensation of bobbing up and down on the water, making jumps and doing tricks. what a powerful experience. my sister and i squealed and frolicked in the downpour and literally danced in the rain. i didn’t worry about getting hurt, i just enjoyed the rare delight of getting completely wet on purpose.

well, as adults we lose that ability to enjoy the storm. we think about our things that get wet, our basements, our stuff, our cars. we think about that leaky roof that we want to hold for one more storm. we think about how the storm might damage our flowers and plants. we wonder if the wind and rain will claim our possessions, houses, lives even, if it gets really bad. we wonder if the power will go out and if we will be left in darkness. we fear the thunder and lightning because we don’t know what will come. i can’t think of a time as an adult that i enjoyed the actual storm. maybe if i was inside, under a blanket and the rain was light. but i would never willingly stand in the rain.

i did get caught in the rain with my husband on the huzzah (pronounced hoo-za) river one year, in a canoe. it hailed on us and lightning all around. hail. and we were in a metal canoe. with lightning. i was scared to death and all i could think was to paddle like hell. we made great time after the hail started. never paddled so hard in my life. Guy was humming “Ride of the Valkyries” from the back. for a minute, even while paddling, i thought, “maybe we should stop.” but where was there to go to escape the rain? the banks were small, no trees really, no shelter. the people on the sides of the river were being rained/hailed on just the same. might as well keep going. just keep paddling. we’ll make it through or die trying. i’d rather be struck by lightning trying to get to where i need to go instead of waiting around on the side of a river and be struck by lightning. we were the very last team among our friends to make it to the end. worst experience canoeing ever. ever. many mishaps on the river that year. but we made it through and i can laugh about it now. at least we had a boat to float it out! and a dry ride back to camp.

but this morning i stood in the rain. and it wasn’t so bad. i can get wet and it’ll be okay. this is life. with God. he’s my umbrella. and while i may not dance around like i did when i was a child, i can still smile through the storm and know, it’ll be over soon and He’s got this. I don’t have to worry or be afraid. there will always be storms. there will always be rain. it makes things grow. like me. be thankful for the rain and don’t worry.

James 1:2-3
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.”

boy, does it.


If you’re going through hell, keep going.
Winston Churchill

HMD

Last year, I took my mom to her hometown on the Saturday before Mother’s Day. That was probably the best day I’ve ever spent with her. (<<—Click the link to read more!) It was a relaxed sunny day. On the cool side. Not in a hurry. Able to talk and drive and eat and remember.

I took pictures. I listened to my mom’s stories. I asked questions.

I wish these country roads could take me home today. I wish I could fly home and see my mom, even for just a day. I miss you, Mom. I love you, Mom. Thank you for all the love that got me to here. Happy Mother’s Day.

 

Dogs in Strollers Signal the End of Times

A repost. Because I just watched John Mulaney’s new Netflix special Kid Gorgeous and he talks about his dog stroller. I’ve lost all respect for you, John. Sigh. But you still make my whole family laugh. So. You got that goin’ for ya.


Do you suppose that at the height of any advanced civilization, pets were carted around in small chariots and worshipped? And then the civilization collapsed due to economic and political disaster? Egyptians, Romans, Mayans. America?? The sign of the end is animal worship IMO. LOL

I don’t know if it’s Florida, old people or Wal-mart, but the amount of small dogs in strollers is increasing. I just saw two Shih Tzus being walked in a stroller on our street on the way home this morning. I saw a Yorkie in a stroller at Wal-mart last week. North Korea has missile capability. The end is nigh. (Please remind me to never go to Wal-mart ever again. Even if they have the cheapest aprons for high school ceramic students in town.)

Seriously though, why stroll a dog? Isn’t the purpose of walking a dog that the dog actually gets exercise? God have mercy on our confused nation. I mean, I love dogs, but a baby stroller?? Please euthanize your dog if they are unable to walk any more. For God’s sake. If you are offended by this advice, you might be a dog-strolling Wal-mart shopper. Or from Florida.

For years I have openly laughed at neighbors standing in small, sad patches of grass behind their dog, watching said dog poop, relaxed with total apathy except for their anxious blue-gloved hand in permanent claw pose, waiting to scoop said poop. The dog always has a smirk or a smile, “I got this human to pick up my shit for free just because I lick his face when he walks in the door.” Or the dog looks totally strained or confused. “Why do I have to poop in front of everyone??”

Who’s in charge? Someone once famously said, “If aliens came to our planet, they would think dogs were in charge because we are picking up their poop!” Aliens would definitely think dogs are in charge if they saw us carting them around in a baby buggy. Gah!

Flooding in Texas. Increased earthquakes. Global climate change. Start prepping now. Actually it’s probably too late. Watch Red Dawn and buy a bottle of Tequila.

Truth Panties

I wrote this a while ago and i guess i never published?


full armor of god

  1. truth-gird your loins!

nobody really has to gird their loins anymore. we have underwear for that. sorry. is it too weird to talk about underwear and God for you? sorry.

in ephesians 6, paul talks about the full armor of god. he begins with the most basic foundation. protecting the most sensitive, valuable bits. ur loins! sorry. i’ll stop saying loins.

most guys would say the most important part to protect of your body is the nether regions. if guys had to choose one piece of armor, this would be it. Kacey Moe​, am i right?? gun to ur head, only one piece, what would u pick??? lol

but the significance here is important. God is telling us, protect the inmost part of yourself. the most sensitive part of your being, protect that. and protect that with truth. start with the truth. the most important thing, the first thing we base our whole outfit on. underwear goes on first. has to. or we are all walking around like Madonna Miley Cyrus.

and here’s where it’s really important to me. this doesn’t mean telling the world where to go or what to do, this means reminding yourself of truth. the truth.

when our inner dialogue turns to cynicism and defeat, we can’t listen to that. that is not what God would tell us. we can’t protect our inmost parts with lies.

here are some lies we all tell ourselves everyday:

  1. i’m not good enough.
  2. i don’t have enough things.
  3. i’m not special.
  4. i will fail.
  5. no one loves me.
  6. i don’t have all that i need or want.
  7. people, husband, mother, child, job will fill me up and i will be fulfilled by those relationships. and if i’m not, it’s because i failed somehow.
  8. God can’t help me or love me because i’m too gross. poor. ugly. mean. wicked. addicted. messed up. sinful. insert negative personal opinion here.
  9. i don’t need God.

the truth is…

you are good enough.

if you can read this? you have enough.

you are special because if you believe in God, he made you and he’s trying to save you. he put you before his own son. before himself. to save you. you are really special.

you can’t fail because all of the things that God wants for you have already happened. he has already climbed that mountain for you.

people will never fill you up, only God can do that. you will always be disappointed by man-made things, ideas, relationships. always. you will never be fulfilled by earthly things for any long period of time. it’s the human condition.

God can help you and he does love you. all the time. yes, even when you are gross!

you do need God. every day. all the time. yes, even now!

these are the garments we should clothe ourselves in, every day. truth clothes. truth panties. sorry.

the thoughts you think should be protected. and they should be guarded with truth! God’s truth. what does that mean??

simply…stop telling yourself you can’t. start telling yourself you can do anything. with God. or. if you don’t believe in God? at least believe in yourself.

hey, Martha.

yes, Martha?

i love you. and i love God.

thanks, Me. that’s enough.

(and yes, i am pretty weird, crazy and perhaps legally bonkers. but you know you tell yourself all kinds of things that are bad. start saying good things. every day.)