An Ode to Rage…

Bark! Bark! Bark!
Finger Point! Outrage!
Blame. Blame. Blame.
I know you are but what am I?

Lurk. Lurk. Lurk.
Eyes scan for evidence.
Blame. Blame. Blame.
You've always been this way!

Whatabout? Whatabout? Whatabout?
Face reddens. Hot! Steaming!
Blame. Blame. Blame.
Adicted to the rage and cannot walk away.

Anger is an energy. Sometimes it spurs on positive action and sometimes it fills up the negative well inside those void of personal insight, those who thrive on conflict. Gotta rant. Gotta rage. It’s all they know so I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else.

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2019/01/charles-duhigg-american-anger/576424/

I am not a devotee of chaos like some but I will say that given the option of being treated like an afterthought, only good for the occasional favor, and saying how I feel no matter the consequences…I will choose the latter. Like it or not.

https://www.everydayhealth.com/news/whats-your-anger-type/

And, to those that choose to take offense and those who purposely fan the flames of discord in order to keep the grudge going? I’m going to let it burn out. I’m done. You can win this hollow victory.

When you burn shit down you go all the way to the ground

Take offense or take my carefully considered words to heart, I care not which is chosen. Just do something different because this worn-out record is excruciating to listen to any longer and I am tired.

© 2019 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.

What shall I do today?

Learn CPR or demand smart gun laws that save lives rather than pandering to a societal segment that likes to play soldier from the comfort of their own white bubble? I’m just thinking out loud and in type print here so bear with me. We are still allowed to think out loud right?

Rick Santorum and everyone like you, fuck off. I’m glad you’re feeling the heat for towing the dismissive company line of profit margins/party over public safety. If you truly believe in defending the 2nd Amendment then talk about the 2nd Amendment in an educated manner. Convince me that you need an AR-15 or an AK-47 to hunt a deer.  If you are really pro-life then actively give two shits about ALL lives. Convince me that having a large cache of guns will not make you a theft target yourself rather than Rambo to the rescue. But, if you are a sanctimonious asshole that only wants to protect their snowy white power position by standing on the necks of those courageous enough to wake the hell up and shout out as the 1st Amendment allows then, please… say more shit like this:

http://www.newsweek.com/rick-santorum-cpr-wont-save-children-mass-shootings-860678

Way to tell kids they don’t matter. Way to whine about kids daring to ASK adults to fucking help keep them alive! Heaven forbid old Ricky boy should realize that many of the victims of gun violence are not of voting age yet (MINORS) and THEREFORE NEED others (ADULTS) to help solve this “problem” for them. A problem, might I add, that adults created. Oh, and I guess wanting to stay alive is just an annoyingly insignificant little PROBLEM to Rick Santorum, one that these ungrateful little brats should just figure out on their own. How dare they ask for help!!!! Being in utero is one thing; the ultimate protected state for Republicans and Evangelicals alike. But, once you are born…sorry sucker! Stop whining, pack heat and throw around lame catchphrases about how good guys with guns are our only saviors or some other dumb shit about not taking a knife to a gun fight.

Really?

What if the Good Guy with a Gun is, pants around ankles, doing shitter duty?  Or, what if he decided to leave his gun in his glove compartment?  Or, Wal-Mart was out of his preferred ammo…or he took a sick day…or the Bad Guy with a Gun was faster? To say that the ONLY way to stop this kind of violence is to count on a fallible human, a stranger who may have a hair-trigger temper and bad eyesight is irresponsible and ignorant. To the people who have uttered this gem: God love you! I know you think your words help but I have to wonder, are you offering words just to “help” keep your arsenal of guns, (your toys), or do you really care that innocent people are being killed? It stinks of the, “if it isn’t happening to me personally then I can’t relate” Suck Hole of DUH so pardon me if I don’t believe you.

Listening to differing views is important and yet, it’s getting harder and harder because those differing views are becoming increasingly heartless and shortsighted. When attacking the very people with a real chance of dying because of gun violence seems like a good thing to do, I gotta say, you lost me.

When I hear human garbage bags like Ted Nugent attacking Parkland students, calling them soulless, I see how far down the sewer self-proclaimed conservatives are sliding.  And, by the way, Nugent’s complaints are pretty rich coming from a supposed pants-shitting, cowardly reprobate with pedophilia tendencies. Yes, yes, your soul is pure Ted and you sleep just fine at night wrapped in the American flag. Calling the Parkland students liars is also curious since, and I may be wrong here, but didn’t you fake being mentally unfit for service during Vietnam by walking around in your own feces prior to reporting for your physical? Or was that a tall tale you made up because begging for a student deferment wasn’t as wild as marinating in your own shit in order to scam the local draft board into a 4-F? Hmm…tell the truth, you were scared of GETTING SHOT just like the Parkland students so you begged for a deferment.  The truth doesn’t sound as good though and, at this point, I don’t care which it was because again, blame the victims and ya lost me.

Explain this Ted…

Now, back to the 2nd Amendment. Where does it say the right to bear arms means any citizen with hands can own as many guns as they like? It just says WELL armed which could mean the GROUP/MILITIA, as a whole, has enough WEAPONS to protect themselves and each other from the tyranny of the… uh, government not from someone wanting to steal their television. Where does it say that “arms” are explicitly guns when the definition of bearing arms means to simply possess weapons? Are weapons just guns or are they also knives, cannons, slingshots, maces, brass knuckles, nunchucks or 70 ’s style javelin lawn darts?

fun-fact-since-their-invention-lawn-darts-have-been-responsible-31739678

Anything that can be used to protect oneself from personal injury or death. I know, speaking for myself, I’d get more satisfaction from beating a would-be murderer with my fists, a veritable back and forth of blows in a battle of defense, even if it meant I lost in the end. At least I would have put in the work and the news reports would say, “She put up a fight.”  Now, what about those who can’t put up a fight? Children. Disabled. Elderly. Those who shouldn’t even have to if we didn’t live in a land of getting what you want when you want and to hell with everyone else? So, the RIGHT to life is secondary to the right to bear arms? Yeah…no.

https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/arms

I guess we can argue semantics but…that is exactly the point! Do we even really know what we are arguing about other than possessing the righteous crown to being seen as RIGHT? Everyone loves being right, even when it’s at the expense of another person’s life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Right? Be honest.

I’d rather be alive than depending on a false sense of security any day and, to all my gun owning friends, which do you grab for first when shit goes down? Your phone or your gun? Will owning a cache of guns really keep me safer than someone who owns none? There are no absolutes in life except for death. When we are dead, we are absolutely dead and guns don’t care if we support the 2nd Amendment or not. And, neither do those doing the shooting apparently.

© 2018 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.

A place for everything and…everyone put in their place

There are times when I wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding and anger flared from a random memory that decided to make itself known again to my subconscious. One such memory was of an encounter with a person, who obviously peaked emotionally in high school, trying to put me in my place because I dared to invade her social circle with my lower class, almost food stamp qualifying background. It was a moment I hadn’t thought about in eons, because it was that long ago, but still a moment when I realized that there are some pretty awful people in this world masquerading as fine, upstanding citizens.

I won’t detail what was said because that would give too much attention to a woman who obviously can’t function without attention, good or bad, but let’s just say that it was the equivalent of a small child sticking out their tongue and doing the “Na-Na, Na, Na-Na, Na” thing. In the moment I was taken aback but not totally surprised because she never gave me the impression that she ever accepted me as an equal but rather, viewed me as an object of disdain and mockery for not being a former cheerleader, sorority sister or over-achieving Super Mom whose life revolved around her children’s accomplishments. I was part of the, “Oh, you’re a working mom” sect and she was fortunate enough to be married to a doctor, which was wonderful but not necessary to point out all the time. “My husband, who is a doctor….” became a suspiciously purposeful reminder of what I was not now nor would I ever be which was rich, popular and accepted. It hurt a little but I somehow managed to survive and move forward in life obviously.

I remember that a few of her mottos were, “public school is for poor people, not us” or “we are involved in ballet, gymnastics, soccer, and tennis simultaneously,” and she never shared anything about herself, anything that would make me empathize with or feel connected to her. All she gave out were news flashes about how wonderful her kids were followed by passive-aggressive comments on my parenting choices. Thanks, but I never asked you…is what I should have said but I’d usually just turn away in embarrassment or move back into my spot closest to the door, at the ready to bolt. I was the outsider in the bunch so who was I to stand up and tell her off?

Why did it bother me so much? The verdict from the popular crowd was that I was socially awkward and jealous because I grew up poor and didn’t learn how to interact with upper class people and lacked the manners and charm to ever fit in hence the need to be constantly put in my place. But, what was my place? If they knew they never told me directly but judging by the nasty looks, rude remarks and blatant brush offs it must be a pretty awful place. Good Lord! How was I ever allowed to walk the same streets as these amazing social beacons and high yield stock option recipients?

In thinking back, I know now that they aren’t all powerful and experience odoriferous flatulence and fecal evacuation just like anyone else roaming this planet and that it, in fact, does not smell like roses. Looky there!  I made farting and shitting sound pretty classy now didn’t I? Everyone does it, even the ultra-fortunate but somehow, being human and acting human (faulty, emotional, kind-hearted, polite and humble) is something to be shunned like a Louis Vuitton knock-off. Nope, not good enough for us, this human thing is well, too proletariat.  We are Gods!

At least that is what I used to think these one-dimensional harpies thought about all, gasp, poor people but then I realized that not everyone was like that and I was judging all upper class people based on my interactions with a few, to put it honestly and bluntly, assholes. Money can’t change an asshole into a humanitarian, the asshole traits are still there under the surface waiting to spring forth with the most minimal provocation. But, good people surely don’t lose that inherent trait to be kind to others or to offer a supportive word or gentle hug when it’s needed most just because they find themselves on the abundant receiving end of financial good fortune right? I have met a few over the past few decades so I know more are out there, they have to be!

Make yourselves known because only you can prevent rampant asshole fires…that sounds awful, let me rephrase. Only you, the kind and polite money attracting people of the world can turn the tide in this poor=lazy, unmotivated and therefore unworthy atmosphere. I’m not saying, “Hand over your cash” either so DO NOT be posting any liberal vs conservative blather in the comments section. This is about how I feel not how you feel on the matter because this is MY memory, not yours.

What I am saying is, the more kind and thoughtful interactions people of differing financial backgrounds have the more acceptance those not so financially well-off may feel and acceptance is worth more than gold.  Acceptance helps motivation ignite. Acceptance makes hope possible. It’s so simple yet also so hard for some people to provide. Why? Talk is free. Smiling is free. A respectful handshake and hug are free too just as direct eye contact is. You have no idea how demoralizing it is to have someone look through you or around you but never directly at you.

As for myself, I may not be considered financially rich now but I do okay and feel very grateful for all that I have and the wonderful people I have surrounding me. And while this may have started out as a painful memory of how a horrible woman tried to make me feel bad because of who I am and where I came from its ended up being a story of redemption…for me.  I forgive her for being such a snotty, sarcastic and dismissive person and accept that she must not be a very happy individual. Or, maybe she’s just dandy with how she acts and sees no reason to change. Either way, it’s done, I forgive and no longer have that moment weighing me down.

Sometimes dreams pull you back to the lessons you haven’t completed yet I guess. Lesson #5,006,201,369 down only 5,006,201,368 to go!

© 2018 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.