A tomato ruins the day

It's amazing how the smallest of experiences can bring a person to tears.  Whether it's stress related, happiness, depression or sadness. 

So I had one of those moments, when I got home from the grocery store.  The day, hell the week, had already been enough of a challenge.  I told myself that eating healthier will make this all better (especially since the household menu lately had been full of cheese and carbs).  There I am, determined, meandering isles of a desolate market, picking out only the most organic of meats and dairy, perusing for frozen vegetables (because it's the fucking desert, don't judge me).  And it hits me that I have...bacon.  At home.  BLTs baby.  BLTs always bring the sweetest joy, the crunch of crispy bacon and fresh lettuce, and the sweet succulence of tomato. 

I have a plan.  I'll buy myself a tomato and make myself a ballin' BLT for dinner the next day!  As I'm checking out with the cashier, she glances glaringly at my shirt and asks suddenly, "Are you a gamer?"

The question, I feel a little on the spot and wondering if there isn't some accusatory agenda.  Then proceeds to inform me about a game that is pretty stellar; her son plays and she rather enjoys watching because it's like a movie.  I smile back delighted that this wasn't a slight after all.  Humans can amaze us often, when we really need it. 

I pay the kind lady, and am on my way home.  Internally, I'm almost jolly.  Problems set aside because tomorrow, oh for tomorrow, there will be BLT in my life. 

When I get home, I hull the large bag of groceries into the kitchen and begin to unwrap the healthy bounty; putting away the top portions, of bakery bread, the frozen veggies, pulling out some cheeses (only the best sharp cheddar and Swiss).  And there, to my utter sadness, sits the tomato.  The single tomato I'd purchased.  It has been mushed on a half gallon of milk.

And then the tears come creeping at the corners of my eyes.  NOT THE TOMATO! 

The Big Green Monster

Relationships are scary and...amazing.  I'm learning so much right now about myself and my partner.  I feel fortunate to have him in my life, and sometimes, I forget those happy feelings and become an uglier version of myself.  The hardest part, perhaps, of getting over our fears/insecurities, is forgiving ourselves for having them.  For accepting them and moving on.  My rage monster, is jealousy.  Where this stems from, I'm still figuring out.  Mostly, I believe, it's abandonment, the fear of being left alone.  Which, I feel, is so silly, because we all die, yes?  And alone never has to mean alone in the sense of this vast universe.  If we are energy beings, we are apart of everything, all the time.  A mass of atoms bouncing around, 'negative' and 'positive' molecules.  We exist as a whole unit.  If only more countries taught this concept to young minds, perhaps many issues that exist today, just wouldn't.  Would there be the same level of greed and jealousy, of hatred for other beings?  I'd like to think not.  If we're told that all beings are connected to each other, to our home planet, to the whole universe, wouldn't that drastically change the global perspective?  Maybe.

It's a world I dream about and sometimes I even fear.  Because it means letting go of so many preconceptions about life and relationships.  It means being open to change.  One of the hardest things, and most rewarding.

Don't be afraid of change.  Don't be afraid of yourself.  Learn, and grow.

With love,
HB

Solving the world's problems one post at a time.

To myself, on my birthday

I feel like birthdays are just a reason to make ourselves look good.  To be fake with people, you know?  It's like, we celebrate holidays because we are incapable of picking up the phone or sending a letter, or text, throughout the rest of the year to tell people, just tell them, how much we care.  Or simply say, 'I was thinking of you'.  And we're programmed to do this, all of us.  Because there isn't enough time, or we have too much going on.  Or whatever.  And perhaps it gets too overwhelming to go through the list of people and say the 'I love you's' or the 'thinking of you'.  But hey, there's always Facebook.  A wonderful calendar reminder, so that we can take 30 seconds to type up a simple, "Happy Birthday, love you!"  "Wishing you the best on your special day!" or some appropriate statement like that.  And we never say, I hope you're happy.  This very statement usually carries undertones of sarcasm when used by people (and why the hell is that?).  When did a simple statement, that should mean so much kindness, and real compassion for another person become some snarling sarcasm?  When did statements and words get so complicated that we rarely ever say what we actually mean?  Why does everything have to be in context?

And we all do it.  We're practically trained to from childhood.  To lie to people, white lies, to make everything easier.  For ourselves mostly, though we will tell ourselves that it's for the sake of others.

Sorry, tangent.

I think birthday's are a selfish joke.  I think I really mean that.  I'm not saying they always are, sometimes people really need that reassurance that they're loved.  Sometimes it's just fun to hang out with people, eat food, and drink and be merry.  I get it, really.  growing up in a household that always celebrated birthdays, and all the holidays; decorations, cake, presents, people, food, all of it.  And everyone was special.  If my mother could, she always threw every child - us and our friends included - a birthday party.  She was the best at it.  Especially when many of those children had useless parents, or abusive, or just tool bag parents who never listened.  She would be there, to feed and nurture and make them feel special, and not alone.  And sometimes, that is just what we need.

But for me, birthdays always feel like the time when I really see just how lack luster my social life is.  People I never talk to in person, people I haven't spoken to in years, post all over my social media page, with wishes of 'happy birthday!'  I may get full sentences, if they're really significant in my life, or perhaps were significant.  It seems to vary as I get older.  Yet all year long, I rarely receive any comments or messages or anything from these people (beyond a select few, for those who may read this someday, you know who you are, and I appreciate you).  So, why do we do it?

I'm guilty of it too.  Even old high school friends or acquaintances; when the notification pops up, I'm all but first to post the famous tagline of the day.  Like it gives some self-gratification, like it makes me a caring person.  I don't know.  It's so, so cheap and easy, isn't it?  Then we wait for another year to make the 'effort' to show our feathers of 'Look at me, I give a shit'.  But do we really?  If we care about people, don't we reach out to them?  Don't we call them or fucking text once in a while?  In this day, where there are so many forms of communication, why is it so hard for people to drop a line sometimes?  Or why do we even bother, then?  Why not just focus on the people around us, everyday.  Why bother just once or twice a year?  If a relationship isn't worth more of your time, is it worth it at all?

Perhaps, I'm a scrooge for feeling any of this, for writing it 'out loud' for all to see.  Or maybe it's a mild sense of depression because I am 29, unemployed, living at my parents house in the 7th circle of hell.  Which doesn't feel like that much to celebrate, honestly.  But hey, I'm alive, right?  I have food and shelter and clothes that aren't too terribly old.  I have a wonderful, supportive partner who will read this and probably hug me and tell me everything's gonna work out.  And maybe, just maybe... those things are the real gift on a birthday.  The rest, is just filler.

Ego in relationships

A meaningless black hole of wounded pride
can set the stage for a mess of lies;
creating arguments for arguments' sake
like a rumbling and endless earthquake.
And we tremble together at the heat
of a moment that skips heavily on repeat;
if only one of us would back down
the other one might just come around.

Leaving whispers of love
on your pillow,
as you slept.
And I wept, for the fears
of my scars,
as they ooze their pitiful woes.

Lots of layers still cover,
a face not
completely discarded,
moving closer and closer
to epiphany.
Will you ever be free of me?

Desert escape

How nice it would be to run. Far and fast, away. In lush green fields or desert mountains. To breath in the freshest air. Taste rain on your tongue. The smells of moist Earth, of tall grass, of creosote bush, so rustic, like fuel, but fresher. No one is around except the rapping footsteps of animals, birds humming, sweet music. The quiet is serene and forgiving. No noisy mouths to question or judge, to ask and ask again. You're so tired. You could rest now, on the soft green, under the palo verde, awaiting, for nothing.

Triple Rainbow Delight

     She couldn't understand why, the thought of that triple rainbow.  She couldn't get it our of her head.  What did it mean?  Probably nothing.  Paranoid personality disorder, she reminded herself.  It was nothing.  A refraction of light in moisture; what's visible to the naked eye.  Glimpses of another world we can't see in plain daylight.  She realized how much time had passed and took back to running.  It's nothing, she whispered.
     In the distance a car crash rings out.  She hears the screech and bang of metal and glass colliding.  Without hesitation, she rushes towards the violent sounds to help.  A woman is crying in a blue sedan, nearly smashed to bits.  She's lucky to be alive, thinks Alicia.  Peering around quickly, she assesses the carnage.  Another car is splayed several feet away.  No movement inside.  Just as she is about to remove her phone from the armband strapped to her left bicep, a truck horn blows behind her and Alicia turns to see the monstrosity.  "Oh god,' she whispers.  'What is that?' horror filled face, Alicia takes in the creature.  It's looming figure moves forward, grabbing bodies and stomping closer.  She looks again at the woman in the sedan.  If she could only get to her.  Alicia rushes over and shouts, "I'll get you out of here!  We have to run!"
     She attempts to open the car door, but it's jammed.  "Can you push it open?" the woman looks at her and frantically shakes her head no.  "Okay," Alicia says, "Gimme a-"
     Alicia is scooped upward by the creatures clawed hand.  She is screaming now.  The creature begins to squeeze, and her breath fades.  Her eyes are closing.  All she can see is the mouth.  It's getting closer.  Then-
     The woman in the sedan screams and cries as the monster passes by.  She stops screaming as she watches it step right beside her car.  It continues down the road.