Is This The Day You Die?

On my way home from work yesterday this thought went through my mind. Driving along, looking up at the blue sky, watching the soft white clouds bounce on by.

“Is today going to be the day you leave this Earth?

Rarely do I allow myself to ruminate or stew in the past anymore. I have done the recovery work and am, daily, working to forgive for myself and release anger and pain. It’s been a long learning process but I think I have found multiple ways to distract or refocus myself to thoughts, projects and people more deserving of my attention. It has worked well the past 3-4 years and I have grown to rely on my new-found skill but today I added, “I hope you made peace with your maker and confessed the true ugliness committed at your hands.”

Let me get you up to speed here. I am, essentially, an orphan. I have no family to speak of even though there are at least, maybe, 30 people out there that share some DNA with me. That I know of anyway. I could be wrong about the exact count because my family of origin LIES a lot. I arrive at my number by counting parents, siblings, their kids, their kid’s children and the few cousins I know about. I have physical contact with none of these people and that isn’t because of the corona virus, it’s because of purposeful cruelty and generational dysfunction. I have limited verbal contact with just 3 of these people so, in my mind, that qualifies me as an unofficial orphan.

Cue the balloons and streamers!!! Now, where is my crown?

Back to the initial, depressing title of this already worn out tome. It really is tiresome when the past won’t stay where it belongs so when you find out a family member is currently in the hospital, a member who doesn’t deserve your kindness, all kinds of surprising conclusions are drawn. Do I still care? How should I feel about this information? How do I react when asked about this family member? Will anyone who isn’t related to me even ask about this family member anyway since this person isn’t well-liked in their community? Anyone who truly knows me is aware of why I feel the way I do about this family member. And, those who don’t? Well, let them ask and they too will learn the truth.

I have no desire to edit anything or soften the jagged perimeter of this family plot turned garbage dump so my truth will be imparted without hesitation. “Is this the day they died?” Honestly, it could happen this way. Someone unrelated to me could be the one to inform me of the passing of a person I came to terms with years ago. A person I reserve no conflicted feelings for and have no desire to pretend grieve once they pass from this world. I wish them a smooth passage, which is more than they would wish for me and, once that has been accomplished, I wish to think of them no more.

If this is the day that you die please know that I am still standing. I am not bowing to the wind of judgement because none is blowing my way. That storm is reserved for you so be ready. Make amends, if you can and if you can’t bring yourself to do this before your last breath then that’s okay. I’ve done my part and let you go a long time ago.

© 2020 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

You Are Permitted to be Angry…

With a few caveats of course.

For all my years of touting cute catchphrases like, “Say what you mean and mean what you say,” or expressing my resolute determination to no longer remain silent, I forgot one thing. The power of commiseration.

I don’t need you to use your sympathy voice every time I share something that makes me angry. I want you to be angry with me!

I GET IT NOW!

There is great power in numbers, as the current protests around the country have shown. I know this to be true. I talk about it, A LOT, within my professional space yet skim right over it in my personal space. And, for that, I am so very sorry. In this, I realize that I am no better than all the assholes I rail about, the ones without even a minuscule amount of empathy in their bitter bones. I, a person who has too much empathy at times, still forgot the therapeutic efficacy of a good bitch-fest. The legitimate airing of grievances, but without having to observe Festivus.

I will be angry with you.

I will listen to what you have to say without doing the, “Awww” face.

I will join your venting session, not because I’m mad at the same person, place or thing, but because YOU ARE ANGRY and I want to support you.

It’s okay to be angry because anger is an energy that can cause change just as easily as it can cause destruction.

I support your right to FEEL all the feelings that go along with being human.

Now, having said all of that, and I meant all of it, I just know there are miserable shit-stirrers out there itching to rail against those who express the desire to FEEL. You know? The FUCK YOUR FEELINGS dickheads. The rest of this is directed at you. Everyone with historically documented reasons to feel angry, you can grab some popcorn and relax for a bit. You earned it…

Yes, fuck my feelings! That’s so mature, so human, so kind of you! And, it’s exactly what I would expect from people who don’t think anyone else is allowed to be angry but them. What exactly are YOU mad about? Didn’t your whiteness provide, abundantly, everything all those other white male politicians promised if you supported their agenda? I know what everyone else is mad about but, please, tell me what’s REALLY troubling you. And, can you do it without calling me names or threatening me with violence? It’s a novel idea but try it, you might like it. And, while you are trying that maybe stop and picture what it really means to be the “good Christian” that you keep calling yourself. Are ya, really??? Can’t be Christ-like when you’re calling me a loud-mouth liberal bitch that needs to know my place. All-seeing God my ass, you don’t know me at all! Let me introduce myself, I’m you’re worst nightmare because I can see who you really are and that’s what you really hate, not me, not them, but yourself.

photo by Andre Hunter

It’s the truth about ourselves, the stuff we demand stay hidden, that really pops up in times of anger and strife, whether we like it or not. It isn’t hidden anymore and if the truly oppressed in this country can put up with your racist, homophobic, misogamist bullshit for centuries then I guess the LEAST I can do is get my privileged white ass up in their support. I stand with them because standing with you is limiting, exhausting, debilitating and completely on the wrong side of history and humanity. I will not side with vile hatred so stop trying to sell me on the garbage you keep peddling.

Yes, I believe Black Lives Matter, Women’s Rights are Human Rights, No Human is Illegal, Science is Real, Love is Love and Kindness is EVERYTHING! On the flip-side, to those who do not believe in the things I just listed? You are the real problem and you are the one stoking the fire of hate in this country and around the world. Lying, cheating and stealing are really your areas of expertise, not ours but you jump at slapping those projected labels on us, which is laughable. Don’t like what I just imparted? Let me use some of your own medicine on that burn…uh, fuck your feelings! Ah, that felt refreshingly satisfying.

I can guarantee one thing for sure, in this current moment and moving forward, if ANYONE directs hateful vitriol and violence towards anyone I love, I will rain the entirety of my FEELINGS of anger, disgust and rage down on you! I was subjected to physical and mental abuse as a child and young adult and can only keep that raging beast of revenge down so long you know? Count on me coming for you because, hey, when you dismiss my feelings of empathy and kindness what’s left? Yeah, just the NASTY parts, the ones you identify with most and you can’t fuck ALL of my feelings. Who’s got that kind of time?

Illustration by Sefira Ross

Oh, you don’t like that I’m expressing a desire to treat you as miserably as you treat others? Huh, it doesn’t FEEL good does it? Are you afraid of my rage? My words that I can freely express without the need of a gun to back them up? Or, are you really terrified of my ability to size-up your obvious inner conflict and verbalize the issues that I see standing in your way of being a decent person? No one acts the way you do without channeling some fucked up dysfunction from childhood that leads to the near debilitating self esteem issues you clearly exhibit. Do I want to be right about you being a shit person? No. But, 9 times out of 10, I am right and it hurts because I know humanity can do better.

You see, I am willing to listen to your angry outbursts, just like I listen to those I love vent. The only difference is that I know one of those complaint sessions will lead to greater self-awareness and inner calm and the other will lead to personal ruin. Without a willingness to see the pain of others, to listen, learn and actively understand why they have a right to be angry nothing will change. You will stay miserable and stuck. You will never be happy. You will never be a healthy community/society member even though you have this warped impression that this land is YOUR land and not anyone else’s, especially those with darker hued skin. To hold onto those ideals is to hold onto quicksand…your made-up “identity” is being exposed as you slide down, down, down.

I’ll offer you a hand if you want it. Do you want it?

Or, does going down with the rat infested ship seem more palatable than letting a dirty liberal offer you kindness?

Sad.

© 2020 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Oh, Sister of Mine?

When people ask me about my family of origin I pause and take a deep breath. “How much time do you have?” I ask. It’s never a matter of rambling on about all the amazing memories I have (or had) with family, it’s a matter of, “How much do I tell?”

Do I talk about the feelings of despair, the urgent need to get as far away from my childhood home and town as possible or, do I simply compose a quick verbal synopsis? Even that would be a task destined for failure since there is zero possibility of a speedy deposition because anger, pain and darkness go too deep and have traveled too many generations to be given just a cursory glance. This is a disease that must be examined with the keen eye of a scientist or, at minimum, with the paranoid skepticism of a rabid conspiracy theorist.

“Show me your proof.”

“It’s all made up!”

“You have an agenda!”

Who doesn’t, pal?

I wish I had made up everything I felt compelled to share about my childhood and the people enlisted to birth me and then failed to raise me properly. I wish I had made up the interactions with my many siblings that drained the rose color from my preferred view of the world. The dream of a life I felt excited about as a five year-old was the same one ground to dust at eight by a brother who acted entitled to be doing so without explanation or recourse.

If only I could recall, rewind, rework and then reissue my life. But, I can’t and it must stand as a work unto itself with no revisions because truth is truth no matter how dirty and the lies of others, desperate to silence you, have no power anymore. That, right there, is what sparks the greatest fear in former oppressors, instigators and apologists. I will TELL. I will say it ALL. And, my truth will follow them to the depths of every self-imposed hellscape they find themselves in or into any carefully curated tale of a supposed “life well-lived” they may attempt to create.

It’s the price we all pay for pretending.

But, what happens when the pretenders stop and stand still within their game? What happens when the camera, the one meant to capture a staged joyous moment, starts documenting reality at every press of the button? Sure, we can smile for the camera but we have no control over the image projecting from our eyes. They are the real keepers of truth after all.

I entitled this “Oh, Sister of Mine?” for a specific reason and to document a specific hurt. I have two sisters, born from the same parents and both subjected to the same dysfunction (at varying degrees) I was yet each approaches their wounds very differently. One chose the stance of a pacifist or rather, a “compartmentalizer” and the other, further down the pedigree chart, chose to morph into a volatile cat o’ nine tails ready to inflict as much mental punishment as humanly possible on anyone she decides to level. Did I see that coming my way? No. Am I really surprised in hindsight? Again, no. Some people learn from their pain and some carry it with them like a weapon to be used whenever they need self-soothing. It was just a matter of time.

Now, here’s the rub. From time to time I see strategically posted vignettes of their “and a fun time was had by all” soap opera. It hurts, initially, that I have been purposely cut out of their lives but, in a way, I also see it as needed medicine. The depiction of how their lives easily go on without being invited to share in any joy or pain can feel scalding but, it is also the hurt I need to heal, if that makes sense? The more I see of these surface only interactions the better I feel about my decision to untangle from the diseased spiderweb. I can’t go back to pretending anymore. I won’t go back there yet, at the same time I am irritatingly human enough to still long for closeness and also feel bad for all of them.

https://www.inc.com/jessica-stillman/people-are-revealing-truth-behind-their-happy-looking-social-media-posts-its-heartbreaking.html

And by ALL I mean ALL, even the parents and other siblings who worked so hard to grind my soul into the ground. I wish things were different but, they are not and they never will be. That wish is now released to the wind. It floats away, along with pieces of my regret and anger, to be replaced by a satisfying self-awareness I never even knew I could posses. By “self-awareness” I mean I own up to my faults, my lies, my rage now with zero shame or embarrassment.

It’s never embarrassing to be authentic.

The TRUE shame is in continuing to willfully live that lie.

© 2020 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Farewell to friendship in the age of Trump

Goodbye spirited debate! So long teasing! Forget about it, polite conversation! Take a hike kindness. You’re done! Finished! Finito! Every attempt at online interaction now is fraught with misunderstanding, defensiveness and paranoia. What did you say about me? What did you mean by that?!? You are so naive, ignorant, liberal, conservative, arrogant, brainwashed, deplorable, gullible…on and on and on. You are either one of US or one of THEM!

Wait…what?

Now, to get to the heart of this blog confession; I was recently unfriended and blocked on social media by someone I have known since high school. While this isn’t the first former school chum to unfriend me this one certainly was the most surprising. Now, granted, we haven’t physically seen one another in over 20 years and every attempt I have made to connect, face-to-face, since 1997 has been rebuffed but, I’m confident when I say I tried! I called, texted and messaged, all out of genuine concern for a friend I wanted to keep in my life because I had fond memories of them from a time period when things weren’t as complicated.

We used to be really good friends…once…a long time ago.

Everything is complicated now! And mostly because people make it complicated for themselves.

It all began with a series of half satirical, half personal opinion posts about the Orange Scourge. Then, it involved replies on other friend’s posts and then my own response to said former friend who was clearly trying to either elicit an affirmation of his world view or a negative response to posting a blurb about how those still “fearful” of getting Covid-19 should just stay home while everyone “brave” and “patriotic” goes back to work. This is the same person who would regularly pop into comment feeds with harshly cold comments bereft of empathy and dripping with condescension and then when rebuffed would also try to disengage by saying, “Oh, I guess I don’t understand how social media works”, “I thought we could have a discussion but I guess I was wrong!” But, wait! You claim to be a sort-of Libertarian scholar so don’t you know it ALL? Tell us more Professor! Psst….THAT’S sarcasm by the way.

Yes, yes you do understand how dropping a shitty comment into the middle of friends bantering back and forth will be received. Yes, you do understand that the people you are crap-bombing are all outspoken women who are very adept at expressing their views and who don’t appreciate being talked down to. Yes, you knew this and yet chose to proceed because…you knew exactly what you were doing. The need for attention, whether it’s positive or negative is still with you even after all these years. Such is the way of the perpetual adolescent, demanding attention and then feigning dismay when things take a disturbing turn. Not my fault! Uh, huh…sure. If not yours then whose?

And, so I felt compelled to respond with a truthful statement that indeed, I shall stay home because I am lucky enough to have an employer that values my safety and one who can allow me to work from home. I acknowledge that I am very fortunate and appreciative of how my life has turned out. It seemed to be a benign enough proclamation until other comments involved telling the fearful, in this person’s view, to file for unemployment if they felt too scared to work. Not. That. Simple. For an all knowing Libertarian I’m shocked they don’t realize that if a stay at home order is lifted then the unemployment payments stop. If an employee decides to continue staying home they can either: 1) Burn up their sick and vacation time or: 2) Get fired for being insubordinate if they still refuse to come to work and risk getting or spreading Covid-19. If the second option occurs you can bet that the unemployment benefits process will start all over leaving the “fearful” without money coming in for a period of time combined with the indisputable knowledge that profits are more important than human lives. *Edit: The most likely scenario will be the reasonably concerned employee will balk at returning and the unsympathetic employer will consider that an, “I quit” which equals-no unemployment.

The former friend’s response? “Well, YOU just stay home and you’ll be safe…” Is there a sarcasm font? No? You’ll just have to read that in your best sarcastic and dismissive tone. You understand what sarcasm sounds like right? Some are confused as to what that is apparently (cough, cough…Trump) and after receiving a reply that a snotty, privileged Karen would give I read it to really mean, “And…all the rest of us patriots, unafraid of some silly virus and unwilling to give up our freedom (to infect) will move about the world touching and coughing on everything while you stay holed up in fear.”

The actual typed words may seem harmless on the surface but I know this game well. I recognize the short response, the clipped phrasing of impatience and defensive deflection, the bubbling irritation I have gotten so used to. I will pat you on the head with these dismissive words, words I don’t really mean but words I choose in order to belittle and embarrass you online. Words I would never try in person because I’m not good with face-to-face conflict. So brave, right?

Having dealt with many passive-aggressive individuals over the years I clearly recognize that when a rebuttal begins with WELL the resentment tends to run DEEP. I have no idea why this person would feel resentful towards me or toward any other friends so I won’t even hazard a guess. It doesn’t really matter. I simply don’t tolerate this type of childish drama in my life anymore so I’m not hurt by the severing of social media ties. Keeping self-absorbed online nasty comment bombers on my virtual “friend” list has lost it’s appeal and no matter what our history together was it’s now time to let go. I have grown up, they have not and that’s okay. I will not lose any sleep over our ridiculous falling out.

What does concern me, however, is the suspicion that all is not mentally well with my former friend despite denials when pressed via private message. There is something off here, something that doesn’t make sense and even though I have asked if I can be supportive and be of service my assistance is not welcome. I can respect that. Again, I tried so now all I can do is wish them well, hope they are okay and leave them in the past.

Farewell friend! I knew you once but now, I hardly know thee at all.

© 2020 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Winning at all costs!

This is an open letter to all the WINNERS out there.

How’s that going for you? Do you feel morally fortified and emotionally cleansed yet? Have the heavens opened up to embrace your fervent world view as THE ONLY ONE, the absolute correct one and does your ill-treatment of anyone considered “outside” that myopic gaze ring up as justified yet?

Are you EXONERATED in the eyes of the evil masses and proclaimed the supreme WINNER, the #1 with the ultimate authority to exact retribution on those who refused to believe? If so, it is crystal clear now that happy times are not here to stay because they never arrived to begin with.

Winning isn’t always a happy event…

When one person wins another loses. And, it is in that very act of choosing how to behave when victorious that honor, benevolence, humility…whatever word you want to assign here so as not to appear the crowing, insecure, vindictive asshole, that a true leader is formed. I see none of that on display of late from either those who call themselves LEADERS or from those who dare to say they, too, are our partners here in this thing called the human race. We are just like you! But, only if you cheat, steal and lie faster than THOSE PEOPLE!

Well, they are content being around THEIR kind…not the kind that welcomes minorities, uppity women, suspicious foreigners, the accursed educated, those weary of the lies told by the conveniently Christian. Anyone that questions the validity of a sketchy world view, is in fact, demonized with constant deflection while the TRUE BELIEVERS (cult of personality and prosperity followers) are hailed as heroes. Especially when their shared, and highly skewed world view is based on the Grab Everything For Yourself And Fuck Everyone Else philosophy.

Sound about right?

Now, winning is only good and pure and holy if you are of a certain hue. Beige, pink, pale, chalk, light tan, maybe sun-kissed tan, but not too tan. And now, curiously, any shade of cowardly orange. To stand victorious while being any other shade will garner outrage, scorn, cries of deception, wails of HOW DARE THEY! Don’t say that’s inaccurate or try to cover it with the cheap tablecloth of any flimsy whataboutism rebutal or offer examples of “a few that slipped through” the wall of white.

Yes, more people than just white people win, it’s just that everyone else has to run twice as far to get to the finish line and even when they cross their victory is always suspect, forever and ever, amen. It’s a hard truth to accept and an even harder one to voice since I am part of that race but, it is true and it won’t become less true until more of us acknowledge it. A problem cannot be solved until it is acknowledged and once it is knowledge becomes true power.

And, by power I don’t mean the same old, worn out, rich, male, white boots on the backs of everyone else kind. I mean the knowledge of deeply understanding and recognizing the pain caused to our fellow humans, the knowledge of how to help heal the hearts of those who hate, the knowledge that minds can be changed, opinions reshaped and fear can be escorted out the door for good.

Also, if we are still being honest here, isn’t it the fear that we will be usurped, replaced, upended, dislodged or seen as unequal ourselves that continues to push the merry-go-round of misery many of us live on or perpetuate? Be honest. If everyone is allowed to win then who’s top dog? Who’s king, queen, ruler, emperor…superior?

I know the answer. You know the answer too.

In a world of true equals no one needs to be on top, standing on the accomplishments, the hard work, sweat labor or forced compliance of anyone else. We won’t need to because we will be too busy creating, producing, contributing and living life right next to them. We will be satisfied with our place in the world because it won’t depend on the suffering of others to exist. You will do your thing that makes a positive difference in the world, I will do my thing that carves safe passage for everyone around me and so on and so forth. See?

If only that could be true! But, its not and won’t be until the milquetoast of the world stop averting their eyes from reality in order to receive monetary, mental and social compensation for their continued silence on all matters not white. If it isn’t for the betterment of those white, male and rich, pay it no mind. Stay silent, stay behind the scenes, stay unwilling to get involved because, yeah, that will sure make a good character case for you on judgement day won’t it? I don’t believe in this set Day of Judgment thing because some people are pretty good at being judge, jury and executioner right here and right now but here’s a cute dialogue that just popped into my head below.

God (or whatever you believe or don’t): Why did you just stand by and let all of these horrible things happen to your fellow humans?

Milquetoast: I was told it wasn’t my problem so I shouldn’t get involved.

God: Okay, but didn’t you know you had the ability to affect change and that the best way to create that change was to simply use your voice to call out injustice as you saw it happening?

Milquetoast: But, but…the others would have yelled at me! They would have threatened me and tried to hurt me!

God: By others you mean those the same skin tone as you correct?

Milquetoast: Of course!

God: So, they would have treated you the same way they treated everyone else different from them? You didn’t speak up because you feared retribution or a similar harm that those you chose to ignore received?

Milquetoast: Yes. I have a God-given right to protect myself!

God: Come again? I gave you what now? Nope, not me. I’m not here to GIVE you anything. You are here to give to one another so when you take from others you, ironically, take from yourself. So…because of that there’s nothing left of you that’s good, kind or pure.

Milquetoast: WHAT! But, I’m white! That’s gotta count for something!

God: What part of love one another did you not understand?

Get it together people! We are dying a slow, painful death from utter stupidity and willful complacency. All is not well and no one group wins all the time…just wait. History is littered with the tales of winners turning into utter losers, like losing by death type losers. Was the hollow victory worth it for them? Maybe, in the moment, but when Oprah (or Chaucer or Mutual of Omaha) jumped out with a sharp Aha Moment sword everything became clear.

Don’t get Aha’d like that. It’s going to hurt.

Oh, and Google the Oprah/Chaucer/Mutual of Omaha obscure reference. I’m too tired to explain.

© 2020 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The place where loyalty and forgiveness lies…

At one time I placed a great amount of loyalty in the hands of people who constantly drove over me with their jealousy fueled anger bus and people who saw betrayal as a means to an end. An end that benefited them only and cut me to the quick, slicing deeper and deeper until I no longer recognized myself.

And, in failing to recognize who I truly was I also failed to see those who flipped on me, those who extracted a perverted measure of satisfaction from my pain, for who they truly were as well. The words, “They are all you have” echoed through the pain and still, I went back. Forgive and forget! Just move on! Are you STILL hanging on to this?

You bet! Not getting let off the hook that easy you psycho…

That place, the sovereign soil of heritage over honor and blood over truth remains contaminated, an inhospitable tenement with no safe harbor. Each trip I made to its doorstep ended in an unsettled feeling of impending tragedy, or, so as not to seem overly dramatic, a nagging sense that I absolutely did not belong there.

Why is it so hard to let go of things, places and people that no longer work in our lives? Letting go of those who hurt us over and over? Is it because we fear being wrong to stay angry or is it because we might be very right to not forgive and admitting this comes with a large dose of regret and embarrassment over not doing it sooner?

How did we come from that place? How did we come from those people? Where is our place in this world now?

And, what about forgiveness? Oh, yes, the ultimate selfish demand from those with every intention of never changing, never apologizing and every intention to do harm again. Who is forgiveness for again? You? Them? Or, is the saintly Mother Forgiveness and the warm glow of salvation she’s rumored to bring just a myth?

“Oh, you MUST forgive or you will live with anger and bitterness!”

Okay. Are you sure about that? I heard once that anger is an energy, a motivator, a teacher. I also heard that angry women are _________, choose whichever derogatory term, typically men, apply to women who refuse to bend, break and, refuse to…forgive. My refusal is no admission of guilt. No, it’s a firm foot being placed solidly on the ground that says, “No sir, my life will not be played out on your terms.” This is my life, my choice and I’m perfectly content knowing there are Forgiveness Soldiers out there that demonize me for being strong.

I owe you nothing.

The anger I felt inside moved me forward. The anger I felt inside pushed me to look at people closer. The anger I felt inside urged me to listen to my gut. I am not stuck, bitter, sad, tortured or any of those negative things promised by the pious. Its almost as if they want us to be unhappy…just so they can feel right. Go figure.

© 2020 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The story of how. The story of why. The story of me.

Typically, I live by the Never Say Never principle but…here are some very critical exceptions:

Never apologize for being who you are.

Never allow someone else to write the story of your life.

Never allow people who continually say hurtful things about you to remain in your orbit.

No one knows the how and why of you…but you. Oh, people may insinuate that they KNOW you and get where you are coming from but unless they inhabit your head-space (if they do then call an exorcist immediately) they have absolutely no fucking idea what they are talking about. You are YOU and they are THEY. Never the twain shall meet.

Unless, of course you want to meet in the middle of the world divide. To come together and talk it out, learning from one another, benefiting from each others wisdom of ages, or compiled mistakes as it were. Whatever gets the job done. Whatever bonds or irrevocably breaks. It’s truly a crap shoot anymore.

Meeting people where they currently mentally and emotionally reside is a tricky proposition. Each day begins with new YOU’RE EITHER ONE OF US OR ONE OF THEM blasts, so much so that I take a hard look at people I was once acquainted with and realize I have grown to dislike what they’ve become. I wonder how I missed the vindictive, paranoid, insecure traits but, then I remember that I knew them as a child or a teenager. My experience of them was merely surface knowledge; I only saw the picture but did not read the book.

Now, in turning each page I recoil. How did such hate grown within the souls of these former pals, buddies, co-workers, classmates, lovers and family members even? The virus of misinformation, the infection or Stockholming, if you will, of people you once were quite fond of creates great pause and a suspicion that the signs were always there, you just missed them. The romanticized dream of the past is finally dead. There will be no resurrection.

Moving on is never easy but, flipping through social media rants, propaganda posts and bile-filled diatribes designed to throw barbs at anyone not in-line with the “party view” removes any guilt when formerly hesitant fingers finally hit the UNFRIEND, BLOCK and BAN buttons. It’s not the same as releasing a guillotine though, sometimes the head keeps talking, posting, tweeting. In those instances the best advice is to walk away with the certainty that those souls are irrevocably lost, forever doomed to wander the land of gaslight and chem-trail fed conspiracies. Khodahafez. Bedrood. Paka Paka. Adios and goodbye! Sigh of relief and close the door.

How did we get here? Many ask this without admitting they, in fact, do not really care. In my estimation I see it as someone pretending to be concerned about the current state of affairs while wringing their hands in calculating glee behind their backs at the chaos brewing outside. Oh, no! How did this happen? Here, drink this poison. It will make you feel better…well, it will make ME feel better. You? Not so much. Do I really care? {Fingers entwine behind back}…sure, sure I care. No, no they don’t.

So, in the spirit of the Never Say Never ballad, yes, believe in it in theory but, in practice…watch your back. Daggers can and will be thrown from all directions. Never forget that.

© 2020 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Hear my voice, my words, my story.

Sharing meaningful experiences with others has never been so hard. During the past few decades listening skills have diminished and empathizing with the challenges faced by those less fortunate or those unlike ourselves is mocked mercilessly and declared a trait of the weak or snowflakes. Such a stupidly weak attempt at bullying! And, the ones engaging in this ridiculous behavior can’t seem to recognize how cruel, and utterly stupid they appear.

Yes, I said it. STUPID! Call me a snowflake, liberal, elitist snob, stuck-up, or whatever jealousy and fear triggered catch phrase those with limited emotional intelligence and a baffling lack of curiosity employ when the truth fails them. Call me all of that and more but the fact remains, you are a scared, small-minded, insufferably stupid human being when you play the Us Against Them game. It’s WE, always has been and always will be.

The same color blood flows from our veins. Basic physical anatomy shows we are all intended to have two arms, two legs, two eyes, one nose=same. No opportunistically cherry-picked scripture will change that. And, even after all of that fact finding you still have no clue about my true position on certain flash-point topics. Not once did I declare my voting preferences or exact spiritual beliefs. I only declared what I see as asshole behavior and those who are ignorant assholes just assume and hilariously end up being wrong every time. Tricky huh? Not really, people simply don’t care to listen.

The notion that just because I don’t rant and rave like a rabid fool, constantly huffing and puffing about the audacity of “those people” that I see myself as better or elevated above those who wallow in self-imposed ignorance. Well, when it’s written out like that then, yes, yes, I do see myself as better than that! What reasonable person wouldn’t? It’s not like the foaming at the mouth narrow-minded jackals don’t readily crown themselves superior so fair is fair after all. And, if you notice, I’m talking about behavior not the individual. I don’t need to convince those who disagree with me to change because it’s a full time job sticking to my own intellectual guns in order to keep all the unnecessary nastiness in the world from changing me!

Okay, so now we come to the fork in the road where everyone has the option to see the humanity in all, no matter the physical, cultural, biological, religious, educational or racial differences or the choice to cling to bigotry, misogyny, mythology and misinformation. The latter being a recipe for certain madness and the former being a chance to evolve and let go of false narratives that serve zero purpose other than to stoke the flames of hatred. Without unchecked hatred control cannot happen, power cannot be maintained and upward mobility cannot be stopped or opposition squelched. YOU cannot go against ME! Uh, yes I can and yes, I will every single time bullshit flows forth from the mouths of inflexibly truculent trolls.

It’s okay…the dictionary is our friend! It’s full of amazing information and loves to have visitors. Go ahead, it’s spelled T-R-U-C-U-L-E-N-T and yes, I’m purposely being a smart ass, because I can. I earned the right.

I bet that triggered something inside the more insecure readers, or not so sneaky lurkers and again, it’s okay. Offense or anger is only felt if the insult applies so get to a mirror quick! The answer to the question of whose fault it is that butt-hurt was felt is right there in the refection. Everyone has the option to change so you still have time.

Hear me now, I am not in the business of dumbing-down anything for people uninterested in truly getting to know me as an author or me as a human being. Unless you take the time to study, to memorize the why of what I do and the how of the reason I came to my position in life that I currently occupy then please move right along. I am not for you and assuming you KNOW me will only end in frustration. Save your time, your energy and your certain anger. I have known who I am and why I believe the way I do for a long time. I did the internal work. Why haven’t you?

You have been told time and again how my point of view was crafted by painful experiences, the full confession of mistakes has laid bare my unapologetic soul to show all the hurt, the skinned knees, the bruised and battered heart. It’s all there for you to read, if you choose to take the time. I shouldn’t have to offer it up on a plate for those too lazy to inquire and too willfully moronic to understand the benefit that comes from learning from people not like them. We ALL have lessons left to learn. No one knows everything there is to know and, isn’t that exciting?

Change is good. Change is needed and voices that ring out the call for common sense, slowing the roll of unfounded bias and taking the time to get educated about FACTS are required should we really desire to continue existing. Did you think about that? That which cannot adapt cannot survive…again, FACT. My plan is to survive and to do so joyfully, with the knowledge that I did all I could to be the type of human being that actually deserves to be here. What’s your plan?

© 2019-2020 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Thoughts and Prayers for Christmas….

I tried.

Hard.

Now, I don’t have to anymore and I’m relieved!

For the past 2 years I swore that I would continue being thoughtful, dutifully sending cards and gifts to family that despised me because “I’m better than that.” I wrote about it in a declaratory tome announcing my status as a saint after all! Jesus, it was easy to fall for the guilt trip then because I desperately wanted to be the bigger person but now I accept the real, hideous bigger picture instead. Also, I don’t want to be like my mother and continue a tradition of sending Cards of Lies with words I knew weren’t true because her actions always said otherwise.

It was never about how they would view me at all. It was about how I viewed myself.

Ego led me to believe someday they would care and so, I sent cards, money and gifts not out of true love for them but out of fear that I would be seen as a shitty person, prone to pettiness and grudges. I see that now and give myself full permission to stop. The way they view me will never be swayed by cash or gift cards anyway so the time to cease and desist is now. It was long overdue and is hard to accept but accept it I will while also wishing them well, silently, on each momentous occasion.

Thoughts and prayers work for phony Christians when doing actual good isn’t desired so why not in this instance? The only difference is, I mean it when I say I wish them well. I do. It’s free and isn’t emotionally draining. To do anything else only shortchanges me and if this really is about how I view myself then I will continue the well wishes in private so my mind, heart and soul can remain at peace. To send or not to send a card will make no difference so I chose to spare a tree. It’s only right.

And, in the grand life-long scheme of things it doesn’t matter. None of it ever mattered because each puzzle piece never wanted to fit in their allotted spot. They only wanted to take chunks from the other pieces around them in order to fill the void and because learning how to be introspective was too hard. A word for everyone out there…it isn’t hard at all! Some people are just fucking lazy. Oh, and they are scared shit-less of the ugliness they’ve allowed to fester inside so they belittle others more successful, more kind and more loving than they are in an attempt to hide their ugly souls.

I shall pray for you…

Not really. I don’t do that. But even if I did it wouldn’t put a dent in the nasty so instead I will think of them often and imagine they are better people. People who actually care about more than themselves, people who aren’t so cowardly that they must hide behind cutting words and passive-aggressive memes. I mean, really! Who wants to be so phony that no one ever sees the real person, no one ever gets to connect with the honest heart inside and, instead, gets rebuffed by a hard, icy exterior devoid of a welcome sign?

I can ask that, and do a lot but I already know the answer. I’ve always known the answer.

© 2019-2020 L.A. Askew

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to “In the Land of Reverie” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.