People

Let me begin by saying, there are individuals who absolutely, positively, through no fault of their own, do not possess any capacity for intelligence. I get it and I’m not discussing that segment of our population. It is beyond their control and abilities, and are not being judged in this opinion piece.

The term stupid is considered derogatory, and yet, also a statement of fact about someone’s intelligence. A stupid person is one who tends to make poor decisions or careless mistakes because of a lack of intellect or understanding. The implication being that stupid people require more knowledge or education. However, even when given more information, they are not likely to absorb it properly. I see part of the problem as an unwillingness on their part to comprehend additional information. Another part is the lack of critical thinking skills. That’s the reality.

It would seem that many stupid people want to stay at their own ignorance level instead of proactively making the effort in understanding the issues, problems, and concerns surrounding their current situations needing dealt with. Throw into that lack of intelligence unfettered emotions that add absolutely no value to a problematic situation and well, you see, you have a mess. This scenario just leads to no resolution and generally more confusion for the stupid person. And frustration to those around them who are impacted by the stupid person’s poor choices and decisions.

I’m not sure if this current COVID-19 situation brought these thoughts out in me or if it’s 45’s (lack of) leadership that has irked me to no end. And just so you understand, I’m feeling more than just irked.

#ENDRANT

Image: pxhere.com

Falling Behind

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gotta go, gotta hurry, gotta get there
gotta, gotta, gotta
move, out of my way
just yeeeeaaaaah

feeling trapped
going slow-mo on overdrive
taking speed walking in jelly
like in a dream being chased

it’s being a human on a hamster wheel
powering on, powering thru
getting nowhere fast
stepping to the daily demands

slow down

 

 

 

Endured Anguish

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KatJ

coming up on 13 years
the memory
the emotional gut punch
still
gnaws in my belly
at the recollection
of that move of yours
your betrayal
such poor form
to hold hidden fierce truths
years of lies
went by
camouflaged in my perceived sincerity

it’s what fools don’t know
that keep wretched people
like you
in the spotlight
of adoration
but no more
it’s time
you become the stranger you are
because you weren’t real
ever
not now
and certainly not in the past

she, who will never be recalled
will no longer
make me grit my teeth
send a surge thru my stomach
no longer
will i care
no longer
will i wince at the mention of your name
you don’t deserve to take up any room in my headspace
or my heart

Unnerving

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Photograph: Sarah Lee for the Guardian

I don’t think I’ve experienced a silent moment, ever.

Every morning I awaken to a barrage of a million tiny pinpricks of fuzzy noise filling my ears. And so the daily task of getting that under control begins. The focus becomes, oddly enough, the fine art of distraction.

This audio companion has impaired me for as long as I can remember. Going back to my early childhood, I recall laying in bed at night when everything around me was still, and all I could hear was this buzzing. It just felt like it was a part of me until the day I thought I was going crazy. No one else seems to have this happening to them! I remember calling my best friend, and she laughed. “You’re not crazy, it’s tinnitus!”  What a relief, I had a name for it. It was just a part of me. I went about the business of accepting it.

It’s not been easy but who said life would be. Nor is it fair. Right?

Coping, distracting, even just listening to it acceptingly – these became my tools to handle what was naturally my physical state.

People think I’m weird for playing my music in the car thunderously loud. They can hear me coming from a mile away. It’s a coping mechanism, in part. To be truthful though, the other reason is that good music just naturally sounds better in the higher decibel range. Am I right?

So on the days when it’s too hard to mentally distract, I turn it up. It helps drown out the daily invasion of uncomfortable and unwanted sound. I’ve been told that repeated exposure to loud noises can make it worse. Uh huh, like I haven’t had it worse already.

This torment can be harder to cope with when I’m only surrounded by my four walls. You know, the place where I spend most of my time. Writing kinda requires it. But I’m also a person who likes to keep to herself – Read: I want to be alone! This means I must concentrate fiercely on my work or my surroundings in order not to notice what’s going on between my ears. Background noise can help ease the burden of staying on top of it, but it’s exhausting.

Every external sound I hear layers on top of this foundation of annoying buzzing, dampening it slightly. As music, noise, or voices pile on, the less the static invades my being. The more I don’t notice it, the better I’ve distanced myself from this maddening disability.

Forty-plus years after understanding what I was dealing with, the tools still work, but it’s getting harder. It’s disquieting. No pun intended.

And there is no cure.

I’ll just have to deal with it, some more.

First Death, Then Life

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It’s odd to feel alive again after someone’s death. But, actually, it’s kinda refreshing.

I’ve had my share of dysfunctional people in my life. The most troublesome ones from my past are dead now. Other relationships that have died over the years are also thankfully in my rearview mirror. But not before enduring a brief stint of anger and sorrow, of course.

It sounds morbid but here’s to making clean breaks and fresh starts with a death!

Seriously, the result of those losses turned into a renewal of me. The chaos was over, for sure. Peace! No more “What’s going to happen next?” along with no more drama, of any kind. There wasn’t anything more to fight over, feel guilt or shame about. No more tears of frustration or anger. It was over. I was facing my future my way from that point on. I got to say a final goodbye to the shit storm those relationships held over me.

I could breathe again, and more importantly, I could live.