Gratitude list and things you should not say people who are upsett

                 

I’d been thinking about this blog for a few days and there were more and more things piling up on my plate. As of late, I have been plagued with a sense of melancholy. For many years I never really mourn or cry bad events. I just stopped feeling altogether. There was a stirring at the pit of my stomach but I just shoved it down to further. For the most part I tend to get a more pissed off and focus my energy on other people around me. If someone passes I put my energy, thoughts and prayers into them after all if I couldn’t really feel anything why couldn’t I help others heal?

                I suppose that’s where the trouble begins. Like death or a painful fart sooner or later it will rear its ugly head and causes some painful repercussions. It might be weeks or months and sometimes years later before I catch up to the emotional after math. If for some reason it hits me days later I’ll get these speeches from the people that should be there for me spout out words that really only make things worse. So, in addition to my “top five things to be grateful for” I am adding the things you should NOT say to someone who is upset.

I repeat DO NOT say these things to people who are upset. If you do, you’re a complete fucking douche:

1.        “why are you upset? You never get upset.”

2.       “Shouldn’t you just be over it by now?”

3.       “It’s not that bad, you should hear what I have going on…”

4.       “You need to suck it up.”

5.       “You don’t have a right to be upset.”

6.       “There’s no way you should be lonely! You have a ton of friends!”

7.       “You don’t need ____ he only hurts your feelings and is miles away. Besides you can always get a new one.”

8.       “It could always be worse, you could have _____”

9.       “You’ve done worse”

10.   “You guys weren’t even that close.”

Don’t be a dick be a dude! And most importantly, be aware of the douche bull shit that comes out of your mouth because some of us keep track to make sure that you get the same treatment as you have given others. Now, on with my gratitude list.

Now here are things I am grateful for:

1.       Fresh lemons.

a.       These things can make any situation better! I drink water and green tea with it and my day is set. Not to mention it’s one of the best facial cleaner I have ever used. I rub it on my face and it feels better than if I just spent a day at the spa.

2.       Sharknado 2is coming out soon.

a.       Fuck yeah I’m going to watch it. It’s the worst movie ever made!

3.       My key board.

a.       I really missed writing music and now I get to enjoy something I once enjoyed so much.

4.       Fans.

a.       I now I have so many, I might just hang them on the wall. Exercised and skill all rolled up in to one.

5.       Thursday Dinner night:

a.       I love this because not only do I get to spend a night with some wonderful people they also fall victim to my drink experiments! On tonight’s menu: Watermelon styled margaritas!

                

Song one

Drinking a glass of lemonade as I watched the sun set. I connect with nature and found my brain silence. I embraced the power of sunlight and the smell of the beach. I felt as if the anger had been slurped out of me. I took a deep breath and inhaled the sheer awesomeness of the day.

While swimming, I glanced at tiny white specs of white dance through the air landing on the surface of the water. It inspired me to write this. I took my first lesson on my piano today and I couldn't help it! enjoy!

Rose tinted introspection

I stepped outside for a cigarette and heaven knows I’d made it a point not to do… at all but I was making an exception. One thing was for sure, I didn’t like to smoke around children or any bad habits for that matter.  Mon Amie was a tucked in her apartment as I used my moment to brood. Mon Aimee talked about the things that bothered us in both life and love.

                I looked to my right and noticed climbing roses growing wayward from a neglected iron work tresses. I thought of my mother at that moment. She had the golden green fingers of the gods. I, on the other hand could barely grow anything at all but there were a few things and as fate humorously would have it was the one thing my mother couldn’t grow. I could grow roses. It was something very simple, but I understood them. Wild roses and climbing roses were always my strong points.

                The trick in working with roses is in knowing how not to get pricked. Although, it always will happen, the trick is know the vine as well as the blossom and be aware of the danger. The newest thrones were always the sharpest and the least forgiving. The older thrones were tougher and not as easy to manipulate. I wonder what this said about my love life. Better yet, my life in general. I saw myself as this bush. Unattended, wild, beautiful and most importantly performed all these tasks with grace under fire.

                “You got any tape or wire?” I yelled after Mon Aimee.

                “I dunno,” she remarked. “Probably.”

                I tilted my head, resting the cigarette in my mouth with a frugal pout.

 The rose branches grew at an uneven angle and weren’t properly taken care of. At first I just stared it, trying to ignore the connection I felt to it. Too many people who tried to gain my love used roses to try to manipulate with something I used to love so much. Even when I told those suitors, no roses, they would just change to the color from red to pink or yellow. Any good memory I had with the plant was quickly demolished in the wake of lost lovers. Mr. Big never did that though. I wondered if the knowledge of buying a chuck of plant sex organs that were destined die was the thought on that one or if it had even crossed his mind at all.

Sex organs, I thought with a smirk. How messed up is that? Yet, it was something very thoughtful but at the same time were the people who gave them to me only thinking of sex when they were delivered or was it out of love. I’d be lucky if I ever looked at plants again. Pulling the cigarette out of my mouth I carefully set it on a nearby concrete ledge. The rose bush deserved better than this.

                I gently twisted the branches into place being careful not to snap any of the pieces. As far as I was concerned, these rose bushes didn’t need me to force them to become something thing I imagined because Nature would always find a way, I was just there to help it grow. My mother was always attentive to every plant she ever owned. She would remove the dead and useless parts with an acute precision were as I would leave just enough of the dead for the roses to remember which way to grow, to have a strong base and to embrace its roots while growing freely but all of these are debatable given my current tampering.

                There were major branched twisted and unruly that curved over the top. I picked up my near dead cigarette and took a final drag while I looked at my handy work. The vines were perfect except for the ones up above. I snuffed out the cigarette and headed back inside. I could fix this. I needed scissors.

                With those, I could cut the branches and squeeze the hole shut.

                “Hey, do you have a pair of scissors?” I walked and inside the house and asked.

                “No.” I could use a knife, I thought to myself. I could use cut the branches and leave the wound gaping open and the roses would still be alive.

“Yeah, some where.” My gaze flittered around the kitchen. No, I thought to myself. There was beauty in its flaws. Almost an aura of gyspy flavor made it breathtaking. Like it needed anymore help to be what nature intended. It was perfect in every way, even without my help. Nature had already found its way, I was just lucky enough to assist it. 

Poem 1: the piece

I look for the moments of silence between each note

With each note, a piece of me lives fiercely

But within the silence a I die a thousand times,

But the pieces of myself, that is my own.

My very own.

Is untouchable.

Just like the silence with in us all.

Wild Roses

I work another overnight shift. The one promised that I wouldn’t work again because it kills my social life. The route I run is through an old remodeled graveyard. It has beautiful and silent at 6 in the morning.  I felt my legs burn and something’s look good and perfect to my world again. It was like a hidden type of freedom.   

            So what if I couldn’t get to have much of a life but it gave me the chance to dive into new hobbies that kept me out of memory lane. But I was stopped dead in my tracks by the worm hole of memory lane. My delicate, solider boy.  The cement bridge that was home to various forms weeds and over grown grass was an odd thing on its own. But it wasn’t that that’d caught my attention but an out crop of wild roses I’[d never seen before.

            This area held so many memories for me and to make matters worse, I just simply felt bad for him. I never wanted to hurt him or anyone else. I think that’s why I took the cruel things he said to me with a grain of salt.  But it always stung a little, especially when the name calling begins. As I looked at this abandoned place, I had wished it had over grown.

            But no, everything still looked the same. Except for one tiny detail-  Wild pink roses grew in the same sport that I had sat only a year ago where I sat listening to him and this thoughts about life and I knew that it would have ended so soon.

            They say that the wild rose is the toughest of all roses. They say that they will take over but to me it’s a sign that even though I have shed many tears and wrestled with my demons, the true nature of the world will always a way. I reflected pver the last year remembering all the tears and a sense of guilt for being able to him through. I remembered sitting where those roses now resided, I felt as those roases had grown from the many tears I cried there.

            They were a gentle pink and open to find the sun. They had grown despite all the rain nad erosion that became their assassins. It’s then that the thought came across my mind. Wild roses need no license to be what they are, they will not bow and they serve as a reminder to me. I am not a bad person because bad things happen all the time and none of this is my fault.

            As I write this, I hear a storm rumbling with impending anger. But I’m not afraid because whatever the storm, I will survive  the like the wild roses and if heaven allows it I, woo will thrive.