Posts Tagged ‘death

03
Jan
20

Life Is Not Short, 1-3-2020

***

A rather common expression these days says life is short or even too short. I strongly disagree and get upset with anyone who says this. [So, if you happen to interact with me in person or online, please refrain from using this line.]

Life is–as I prefer to say–as long as it is granted to you, as long as the Fates allow.

You get what you get and really do not have any sensible, genuine idea how to prolong it, though certain lifestyle choices DO enhance the quality of life and may offer some minor extension…but there’s no proof. Surprises never cease, and those who think they are perfectly healthy can suffer some sudden shock to the system which blows the whole outlook.

So, don’t count…anything. Don’t count the days. Don’t count the calories. Don’t count the steps or miles you run every day; what are you? A hamster? Just live and do your best to let others live; be cooperative but not a doormat. And, if you find yourself in a position to dominate, don’t revel in it; don’t stomp on the competition. You could just as quickly be under the other foot when you foolishly overstep your bounds. And, you project a terrible example to others who could easily replace you.

I’ve recently been discussing the sensitive subject of drugs with my very little nephews. Their parents have “no time” to talk about such things. But, from my childhood experience, I know how little adults (in my family, anyway) make an effort to discuss serious topics and prepare kids for what’s ahead, rather than let some PSA or school program drill a single phrase and some silly video into their heads. I can still see the cartoon donkey telling me to avoid strangers, the YUCK face warning me about hazardous drug bottles and the owl advising me not to pollute. Ya know…those were all cute and fun in their prime. But, real kids either wise up fast or go a long time before something shocks the crap out of them. Guess which one I was? The kid who got the crap shocked out of him when “reality” presented itself. B-But, the school was exceptional with its education system!…or so reputation says. Whatever. Parents and other adults need to be the education system…and not scare the kids.

Just the other day, I tuned into a TV show about social animal species which gave considerable focus to dolphins, elephants and a few types of monkeys. I became irked every time the narrator said an insect’s brain was far too small to compete with that of a dolphin. Does anyone other than me grasp the concept of size being relative, the idea that the physical size of the creature does not determine its intellect? We already should know an ant can lift an incredible amount of weight; can it not be just as possible for an ant to have more intelligence than we currently possess?

What if even the creatures with a “hive mentality” simply devote their massive brain power to that collective instead of dividing their “gifts” on all sorts of meaningless economical concerns and mindless entertainment, as humans do? Maybe our measily ten percent of brain power would grow or achieve more if we were not so…distracted and divided. It would not surprise me if, years from now, we discover plants having brains and a language we simply did not notice…and countless vegans suddenly turn ill with guilt for consuming yet another intelligent life.

[We humans, as far as I know, are the only species to become conflicted with what seems to be primal nature. We are so withdrawn from nature that we are foolishly, blindly destroying it. The “perfume” is so thick, we can’t think clearly.]

As much as it agitated me to hear the repetitive talk about the sizes of brains, I was finding myself emotionally drawn to the elephants and dolphins. In a strange way, I envied their social structures. I wanted to embrace them and say, “Let’s go have fun, together. Let’s go have a picnic at the beach.” I felt the urge to book a trip to some far off place where I could ride an elephant or swim with a dolphin, become the creature’s friend and make sure they were treated properly. [I get very unfriendly when I see an animal mistreated by “the system.” I’m not the best zoo visitor and go crazy when I see so many scientists trying to use technology on other animals, hoping to make them more like humans or give up all their secrets to the insatiable probing of humankind.]

And then…I thought about going home, leaving those animals I just befriended…and how sad it would be, not knowing what became of them or having any say in it, really. I’d be lucky to get a letter from someone who knows the creature. [It’s not like my elephant pal Boris can keep in touch, himself. And, so far, even when people nod and tell me they will keep in touch, it rarely comes true, sort of like parents who promise to take you on some trip to give you a summer worth talking about with your peers or just to shut you up so you don’t drive them bonkers all year, trying to pass off a hamburger and fries as a substitute for Disneyland and summer camp.]

You know what is short (in my life)? Time with those for whom I care and who I grow to like. Time with people who, at least, seem to truly understand and sympathize with me. It’s so rare; it’s like finding a unicorn in the forest. And, just when I think I’ve found some gem of a person, something seems to snatch them away.

It’s no wonder I have such a delusional outlook on life, in general. I’m obsessing with fantasies instead of taking what is given to me in a content manner. And, even my fantasies can’t sustain me because I still desire some tangible piece to ground my thoughts and feelings. I still want a body to hold and love, not a cartoon or mannequin.

And, though it is a common driving force to pursue a single warm body for primal needs, I know, deep down, it takes a bit more than that to achieve the grander sense of happiness; it takes a circle of friends and good relations with family. Well, I can pretty much wrap up that last one as a failure; even if I kissed the ground my family walked upon and did everything they wanted me to do, I would not be happy with them…and I am sure a few would continue to be unhappy with me, which is probably where my perfectionist vices originated. As a student, I couldn’t cope with less than a perfect grade but didn’t understand why; I just assumed others would look down upon me somehow. Less than perfect became almost sinful, forcing me to seek the means to atone.

I don’t see great or even good options for paths to take. I don’t see the multitude of good people with whom I am to surround myself nor the means to cast out the negative few. The negative outweigh the positive and, in turn, cause me to emit negativity, apparently. My anger, frustration and despair from what I see and hear is giving me a stink as it stews in my pores. If my social anxieties don’t spoil things for me, I make a fool of myself when I think I am in the right and cross a line with someone I just met. All my lessons in manners and respecting other cultures goes out the window once I open my mouth.

As a child, I was raised to dress properly and sit quietly while adults were in the room. I was a trophy child, someone the adults talked about but rarely with, other than the occasional comment about how I was performing in school or my interests, particularly art which few adults indulged in, thus they had little to say. I was complimented and encouraged to perform better and better than better. It was only when I reached my teens that my mind advanced beyond what my body was doing and became highly self-conscious. At my lowest point, I found my voice and used it to save myself from premature death. I thought speaking out was a valian effort. But, what did it get me? What has it gotten me all these years? A few more compliments about my sense of humor, a few more bits of praise for my wit…and a ton of complaints from the majority of negative spectators who find my words foolish, unpleasant and/or excessively self-righteous.

So, I say it, again. What is truly short? The time I have with those who satisfy my spirit (and body). Not life. This life of mine goes on and on, prolonged by a higher power who has some greater…or worse…plan for me. It began abnormally and continues to survive abnormally. Thus, I can never call myself “normal.” I have come close to ending it myself, but some tiny flame resides in me which continues to believe all is not lost, even if time takes its toll on the mind, body and worldly resources that seem to be so important to having this life (when they have so little to do with nature and life itself).

If you outlive someone who literally loses their mind, the ability to speak sensibly with you and recognize your face, you may be discouraged and join the chorus who sing about life being short. But, realize you are still living; your life continues with the knowledge of someone else losing their full potential for life. You still have time. Do you use it to compare lengths of lives? Or, do you simply live it and understand loss of ability and death are part of it?

Cherish what you have. Don’t quest or chase for what may be too much. Take care of good friendships and other relationships. These should not be labors but natural constructs that you merely maintain and thank the heavens for having in your life.

And, breathe.

16
Sep
19

A Fatal Choice -Which Do You Choose?-

***

Let’s say you enter this life and have two choices of how to live.

A) You survive until you are 60 to 110 years old but are doomed to die from a plague sweeping the planet which ultimately touches nearly every person like mold on pumpkins. Your life expectancy is a blend of genetics and whatever man-made products you put into yourself which keep you going as long as you can…as well as bringing you down in the end.

B) You sign a contract or invest in the necessary equipment (sort of like paying for college and all that goes with it to get a degree) to transfer your “doomed” human identity into a machine supplied by a monopolizing company already spreading its financial cloak of dominance over the planet. However many years and however you live those years as a human being are inconsequential; as you will join the collective hive/mind of billions of other robots who bought into this “life insurance plan.”

Which would you choose?

Or, do the prospects of both make you wish you were never born?

[More on that philosophy in a near-future post.]

Just answer the question. Don’t LIKE or star this for later and forget about it or pass it on. And, if it’s not too much trouble, explain your answer/decision; what makes you choose that path?

16
Nov
18

Stan Lee What?? Died? Not So Excelsior.

****

Just a quick note on the passing of who might be one of the biggest sources of inspiration to my childhood and adult life, not as any example of a stellar human being, because, even though I’ve seen videos about the guy and featuring the guy speaking his mind about everything from comic books to diseases you could get as a soldier (for which he had to make some kind of flyers and/or comics in his younger adult days), I didn’t feel as if I knew the real person very well.  I felt as if he was always “on” pitching and promoting something, no matter how many actors played Spider-Man in different “trilogies.”

But, as a creative and hard-working person who spawned so many characters into the Marvel and its previous form’s universe, all of which, as I understand it, is somehow in the possession of the Disney empire?  [But, I could be wrong.]  …He was somewhat rare and special, even if some of his creations were on the creepy side (and thus avoided by me).

Stan?  You will be missed but, not likely, forgotten.  I have no grand speeches or colorful tributes at this time.  In fact, I feel quite flat about your passing.  Death.  It’s inevitable.  People are coming and going like the seasons.  It just becomes more “functional” as I get older to look at it without much emotion, even if emotions erupt uncontrollably as if part of human nature.  I just wish things were different before you had to go.

I will say this…

Hopefully, you get the chance to reconnect with Kirby “up there” and make some cool images in the sky, ya know, with the clouds.  Sky artists.  Just imagine.  Now, that is “excelsior” worthy.

Oh, look.  I found some tears, after all.  I guess…it’s sobbing time.  [A lil Thing poke, there.]

I’ll cherish so many movie cameos and the old comics as long as they last.

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This I made when talks of selling to Disney were happening.  And then, I laughed when he made his cameo in Ant Man and the Wasp, claiming he’s paying for his previous decisions from the 60’s (or his 60’s).

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Feel free to share your thoughts on the Man (Stan) and any of his creations you enjoy(ed).

 

03
Oct
18

Sue Grafton…Dead? I Am Late to Z Funeral.

***

I am, by far, a lousy reader and never thought I’d give any author enough of my time to read more than three of their books.  And, if I say or ask anything that’s published on some website, obviously I haven’t sought that out and read it, either.  I’m not even doing a good job of looking over my notes from the books.  I just want to write something quick and heartfelt.  But, like Kinsey, I have habits that are hard to break and am complicated.  😀

P Is for Pitiful Reading.

But, I’ve been keeping this under a thin blanket.  I read 20 books in Sue Grafton’s alphabet mystery series, from A Is for Alibi to T Is for Trespass.

A Is for Accomplishment.

And, I would have continued reading had my life not been rocked back in 2015 by a stupid injury which sent me spiraling down a pathway into writing one of my own books about the scary medical experience (with a bit of exaggeration/imagination).

Now, I just heard the white-wine and quarter-pounder-with-cheese obsessed author passed away last December, shortly before the new year dawned.  And, she finished book Y but not Z??  THAT’S…

H Is for HORRIBLE!!

She wrote so long and so many books, shooting for 26 in a series (which I am sure–without looking is dwarfed by some of the more famous authors who seem to be so full of words they write books in their sleep and showers….practically vomiting hardcovers daily)…and she fails to complete the last book in the series.  [Did she anticipate her own death that she wrote an accompanying book about Kinsey before finishing the series?]

And, she had so many resources at her disposal.  How many cops, lawyers and insurance people worked with her on this series?  Plenty.  She had access to case files–which I am sure she borrowed a lot from for various books–and obviously did a lot of hitting the road to get all the necessary details right.  [If anything was inaccurate, how would I know, anyway?]  I wish I had a fraction of that support for and assistance with my books.

A close contact got me to read that series, as she has gotten me to read another by another deceased author who had some “friend of the family” or “super fan” take over writing stories about the characters.  [Which, after reading one book in the series, does NOT seem fit for “young adults” other than the difficulty level of the reading.]  And, I will be surprised if no one takes up the task of writing that last book to complete the series.  If no one will/does, I’d even be interested in contributing to the book.  But, I don’t want to write it solo.

I’ve got the title all picked out.  And, it’s a hoot.

Z Is for Zinfandel.

Perfection.  Right?  It’s the story of Kinsey finally thinking about cashing in her P.I. chips and settling down (though she perpetually claimed she could not be that sort of person and had to just settle for sleeping around with guys oozing machismo, like that vice cop and that “Rob” guy (based on another detective series author) who couldn’t get out of a lousy marriage).  She might just settle for retiring her present car, putting that tired old dress she kept in her car into mothballs or giving up a particular diet item/habit.  But, she will go down fighting with a big box of white wine right by her side.   It could just be a break from all the chasing, lying and violence and having Kinsey relax with her guilty pleasures, reminiscing about past cases/years.   Or, maybe an elderly Kinsey busts one more creep, proving old age didn’t slow her down enough not to bring the jerk to justice.  [Can you imagine this old white-haired lady flipping over some burglar and securing him before calling the cops, including the descendant(s) of that guy she hated contacting (whose name slips my mind).]

Come on, people!  No way that series ends one letter away from 26.  [But, knowing my luck, it’s already in the works and decided.]  Can I help anyone work on this last chapter?

At any rate, Sue?  You had me at L Is for Lawless.

[I’ve been just a tad infatuated with your Kinsey Millhone and her lady friend (at the insurance place who wore those very 80s outfits and hooked up with that shorter doctor guy)…at the same time I was bothered by some of Kinsey’s decisions.  And, yeah, the white wine thing realllllly got on my nerves.  I’m also itching to try a number of items on Rosie’s rotating menu, sample some of Henry’s baked goods and send his paranoid brother somewhere far away.]

Without further ado and any other foul habits…

S Is for Suspenseful.

U Is for Ugh!  Not another white wine fix or QP binge!

E Is for Erotic, Mildly.

G Is for Gal Pal Power!

R Is for Racing Heartbeat to the End of Each Book.

A Is for A Slow Burn.

F Is for Fierce Fighting Female.  [Not foxglove and all those digitalis cases.]

T Is for Thanks for Writing Something That Made Me Want to Take Notes.  [I really had to backtrack to find the source of the “death cap” mushrooms.]

O Is for One Sassy Little Pistol (and All of Her Guns).

N Is for No Way I Am Reading the Rest of the Series Without Z.  [But, I’ll hang onto my notes and memories as long as I can.]

21
Jul
17

In the End…of Linkin Park?

****

I had just come home from my day job when I heard on the news about Linkin Park’s lead singer killing himself, a father of six, supposedly married (which I didn’t even know)…but happily married?  There’s a question.  I also did not know he had addiction troubles.  But, looking at the majority of song titles the band has released, I can see a pattern.

Crawling (in my skin…these wounds; they will not heal.  Fear is how I fall, confusing what is real.)  –Possible itching from a drug fix/addiction; check.

Breaking the Habit  –A cry for help, a desire to quit; check.

(I’ve become so) Numb.  (‘Tired of being what you want me to be.)  –A pain in the back pushing him toward his “medicine;” check.

In the End (it doesn’t even matter).  –I’d say that was the start of the road map to feeling worthless, right off album one.  Other depressing and bleak songs followed.

Nothing really about relationship troubles…

Unless there’s more to “Lying Away From You” than meets the ear.  I most often thought any mention of relationship conflicts in the music was related to teenagers and their parents.  I figured the music was geared towards rebellious teens.  But, perhaps, I was looking the wrong way.

I first heard Linkin Park around 2003 while walking home (wearing a headset).  I thought I wouldn’t like their preach-y hip-hop style, at first.  But, the longer I listened, the more of the lyrics I understood; and the more I grew to like their albums.  I almost have every one they made.

There were a few songs, released not too long ago, that sounded like overkill of despair and anger.  So, I kinda turned a blind eye to what may have been the most recent album of “pop” songs?  I haven’t heard any of those, as far as I can recall.  I wonder if the band didn’t have the same sort of mid-career crisis it seems Katy Perry may be having (among other talents).

For some reason, these talents beat one form of music til they wear out and then get the fear in their heads that they need to change directions.  And, in my personal opinion, I’m okay with it.  Diversity isn’t always bad.

Taylor Swift went from country to pop-ish music, and that suited me just fine.  [Maybe she averted “bad blood” or emotional breakdown by taking a concert tour break.]

Katy Perry started with gospel (when I knew nothing of her, before I knew she was a blonde named Kate Hudson).  But, going raven-haired and switching to scandalous rock got my attention.  And, now?  I’m not sure where head is going.

Back to Linkin Park and the lead singer fiasco.

So, it seems Chester B. was close pals with Chris Cornell who also took his own life earlier this year.  Chester played at a memorial event.  Who will play at Chester’s memorial?  And, will they be next…to, you know?  I sure hope this isn’t some scary, accursed chain of events.

I would create some kind of memorial for the guy(s), but I don’t know how to feel about a father of six taking his own life.  It makes me shudder.  [I don’t mind making memorials for those who die at the hand of fate/God.  I’ve made memorials for countless pets to ease owners’ hearts.]

Life for me hasn’t exactly been wine and roses, but I’ve been surviving the best I can…or as well as I feel able under the conditions I face.  I have come close to “the end” and don’t ever want to go back there.  So, I do what I can to avoid the edge.  Still, no matter what I do, life has a “funny” way of throwing crap at you, whether it’s to teach you a lesson or punish you for something done…perhaps in a past life?  I may not have a drug addiction, but I know how addictive certain activities and foods can be.  I must be mindful of the “golden rule” of moderation and of what I indulge.

I’ll still listen to just about anything Linkin Park has made thus far.  If this is “the end” of the band’s career, I’ll live and take what I can from the past albums.  [I had aspirations of working with Linkin Park on future movie projects.  I even had storyboards with lyrics under certain pictures.]  I’ll have to look into this “pop” music they tried making.

But, where do they go from here?  Replacing a lead singer doesn’t seem to go well for anyone.

Feel free to share your thoughts on the band and/or this recent tragedy.

07
Jun
16

Do I Still Like to Collect Feathers?

*****

Every autumn since maybe 2010, I’ve encountered wild turkeys passing though my neighborhood.  And, if I am lucky, they leave a feather or two where I can find it/them.  I also have hawks that fly overhead and very rarely leave a souvenir.

I have yet to find a good project for them, but I like collecting feathers (just as I like collecting leaves, acorns and seashells).

But, recently, I found a trail of gray feathers on the driveway.  Initially, I thought, “What luck.  An array of feathers.”  Then, I found the rest…of the bird that lost those feathers.  The hawks I’ve been watching so earnestly have been picking off chickadees and sparrows to feed their young.  And, the remains just happen to land on my path.

I know it’s the circle of life and all that.  But, I don’t need to see ants eating half of a sparrow’s head and feathers with bits of blood and whatnot on them.  It kinda takes the joy out of finding feathers and makes me think of the Greek god Apollo who used different feathers to make different arrows.  I imagine these scattered remains of dead birds would be used for arrows of death.  Just a thought.  [Bleh!]

30
Dec
15

You Wanna Know How Much I Hate Snow?

*****

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You wanna know how much I hate snow?

How it makes travel, especially foot and road traffic perilous…even deadly?

How it turns into back-breaking cement and takes lives by heart attack?

How mean kids torture their prey by stuffing nonviolent faces into the icy crap?

How it can inflict pain and rash upon the skin, rivaled only by sunburn?

How it can freeze, bursting pipes and ravaging roads treated with salt?

So, to all you dreamers out there who think snow, the white reaper of winter, is the romantic cousin of a gentle spring rain, I’ve got one thing to say to you…

Get help.

Send help.

If you want to experience snow, take your chances traveling somewhere void of human life. Come prepared for anything. VISA might take you there, but it won’t get you out. And, good luck meeting a pretty yuki-onna while you’re lost in the blinding, freezing wilderness.

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11
Aug
14

They Don’t Make ‘Em Like They Used To

Have you ever heard someone say that about some machine, toy, phone, “doodad” or gizmo? You know…the title of this piece. It’s something I haven’t heard myself in a while. But, that’s just because I am no longer a kid surrounded by elderly folks. Those who said it to me have passed on, already. But, the message still rings true now and then.

There was a time not too long ago when adults of the ’60s looked at the toys and technology of the ’80s–particularly television sets–and said, “They sure don’t make them like they used to.” This was shortly after Americans took a break from bitching about the “China-men” making inferior products. But, even today, if you listen to some of these millionaire business types, where would they be if they didn’t have their production lines overseas? Not too long ago, there was a big stink being raised about lead paint on toys. Lead paint; something I haven’t heard about since childhood when there was considerable concern about kids eating paint chips from older houses. [But, if you get me started on lead paint and the Chinese labor force working for the U.S.A., we’ll be here all week.]

The point I am slowly trying to make is…

If you look at modern technology–everything from lawn equipment to household appliances to your “newfangled” flat TVs and razor-thin-ready-to-snap-at-any-moment computers–you don’t see many–if any–lifetime warranties. You’re lucky if you get a five-year warranty. What amazes me is how some manufacturers will avoid a fuss and let you have a replacement (sometimes at an additional expense even if it’s considerably smaller).

Back when, replacements didn’t come so easily. You didn’t trade in a $100+ phone made from nuclear waste that does everything from flash a light under your bed to manage your banking/spending every two years. You bought a phone that plugged into the wall and was glad it was still working when the power went out. Now, you drop your “phone” (and I use the term lightly) in a puddle or on the sidewalk (because you have to have it with you at all times), and you’re lucky if you aren’t forking over another $200+ for a replacement.

[You see how the price shot up in just a few years? There was a time when you expected a fairly standard price for a phone. The technology didn’t change in two years, and what you had worked just fine if you didn’t take it outside and throw/drop it everywhere, you klutzes. AND, your hand didn’t vibrate or glow in the dark after holding your phone for a few hours. Okay, so maybe I am exaggerating about the hand glowing in the dark.]

There was a time when you bought something with little fear of it not working in as many as ten years or more. You trusted a name that built a reputation for itself. You trusted the materials with which the item was made.

There was a time not so long ago when cash was so scarce, they called it the Great Depression, and countless lives were in financial jeopardy. Back then, they didn’t have “smart phone plans” to worry about. They didn’t even have video entertainment. How in the world did they live?!…you kids might ask. Well, I am fairly sure there was probably the same business scheming going on then as it is today. It just came under a different label as it drove people broke. But, whatever it was, I am sure it lasted the people a few more years than a computer telling its user, “It’s been two years. Replace me.”

You know what piece of technology hasn’t changed much since the dawn of time? Mankind. We may have lost some hair and body mass (ha). We may have learned to stand up straighter and use different words now and then. We may have changed the way we eat our food, dress and clean ourselves. We probably earned a longer life expectancy from working less and sitting on those asses people have been pointing and shaking their heads at, lately. But, we can be just as dumb as our ancestors.

How dumb are we? Well, we’re so dumb that we will slap anything on our skin or trust another human being to make us look young, “pretty” or “handsome.” We’re so dumb that we take pills as directed by other humans only to suffer side-effects we should have seen coming (but we didn’t…because we’re so dumb). We’re so dumb that we will burn a plant in our mouths or wash one down our throats to fight stress only to risk the lives of others around us and put that stress on our bodily organs, anyway. We’re so dumb that we move just like cattle as we chase the latest things because the ones someone stopped making last summer are now obsolete.

Can you replace your grandparents or siblings so easily? I think not. No matter what insurance policy you buy, pill you take or defense system you install, you don’t have a lifetime warranty or even a two-year warranty. Your number could be up tomorrow. [That’s another fairly old piece of lingo, by the way. Your number being up. For those of you born after the cellphone, it means “you could die.”]

So, the next time you think about buying some new gadget, trinket or Macintablet or reach for a fresh (or freshly charged) battery pack, remember what ol’ Writingbolt just told you. You can either drain your bank account (which was filled with your life force applied to that thing called work…of whatever kind you employ) every few years chasing stupidity. Or, you can wise up and rethink the way this world appears to be going. Buy something more reliable. And, invest in those around you who are worth more than any self-destructing wireless “life-distactor.”

Maybe it’s time we all slowed down to think instead of trying to be the one who throws him or herself into a wall the fastest. Yeah. That sounds dumb. Just give it time. I’m sure it’s out there on YouBoobTube, already. And, it’s getting a billion hits.

There was a time when hits were something your older brother…




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