In one month from now is a Comic Con in Louisville. Not only will there be a Firefly reunion, but also Cap’t Jack Harkness! I’m pretty sure that Cohiba and I are going (and he can also meet his high school celebrity crush Gillian Anderson.) The problem I’m having right now is my costume. How would I dress if and when we go?
My go-to laugh inspiration
I’ve got to write again about this prompt about jokes: I have a particular website that I go to for laughter inspiration: Television without Pity (TWOP). They have many writers who review television shows and some movies, and I can usually get a laugh or two off their reviews – I like them.
I am a child of the 80s, and had some formative years while Dawson’s Creek was on. On TWOP, there were two people in particular who recapped the four early seasons, the ones I knew best. It seemed like they were friends, because they would refer to each other throughout the recap and were kind of unified on their opinions and nicknames of the characters which was woven throughout the recap. They also interjected their opinions throughout the recap, and that was possibly the best part. It was so funny.
Ever seen a grown man cry?
This really happened, and it was funny.
My fiance were and I were relaxing at our favorite cigar bar downtown, sitting on the super plush seats in the front window. A group of guys came into the bar and sat on the couch across from us. One of the guys was clearly the designated drunk and was still in a happy mode of drunk, talking to everyone. They were firefighters from Queens, members of the first fire academy graduating class after 9/11. They came to town for a hockey game, and were gonna rush back to New York the next morning.
We started talking about their time in our city, comparing things we enjoy about our respective homes, and then they asked about our professions. Right when I told them I’m a drug and alcohol counselor, the Designated Drunk looked at his friends, horrified, and said, “This isn’t an intervention, is it?”
Pure Love…on the Streets
Reflecting on a moment of kindness, as was suggested in today’s prompt, I remember one of my clients.
I don’t know Tony’s diagnosis, but he’s not very lucid. He generally only speaks when spoken to, and when he smiles, his eyes crinkle into a dozen lines. He is one of those people who had fallen through the cracks and wasn’t doing well, but it’s been changing over the past couple of years and he’s recovered a bit.
With that recovery comes the singing of Jackson 5 songs, and you can hear his falsetto “tweet tweet” as he sings Rockin’ Robin. He doesn’t even know the words, just the tweet, and the whole floor can hear him.
Last week, I learned that one of my female clients left the place she was staying with her son to avoid the drug use and dealing, and they were sleeping in the streets for several nights. I also learned that Tony accompanied them on the streets to help defend against possible trouble. He’s in an apartment (one we helped him get into) but on those nights, he chose to stay with my client and her son to help keep them safe, without requesting anything in return.
He doesn’t brag about this; since he doesn’t really talk unless spoken to, how could he? He just did it. I heard about it in passing, and then when I asked him, he told me. I don’t know if he realizes how kind and precious this is, but it moves me every time. This is kindness like I rarely see it, and it comes from the humblest of corners.
Never s-TAG-nate
Today’s Daily Prompt challenged writers to come up with a tagline to describe them, and I like this one – it makes me giggle to think of.
There’s no kill switch on awesome.
Not as bad as everyone thinks. (Several of my clients, homeless addicts, actually say this to me. And if homeless men think I’m tough, I’m okay with that.)
I’m not your handler.
This is why we can’t have nice things.
Just because they serve you doesn’t meant they like you.
Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you
Hey.
Hey you.
Obstinance.
Stubbornness.
You need to get out.
No, really. You need to bug off, and get out of here, now.
No, you can’t stay. You cause me trouble at work, trouble with my clients, trouble with my family, trouble with Cohiba, even. You bring out the worst in me.
Plus, Obstinance, you’re a bully. You choke up creativity and you stifle kindness. You completely abandon love and even responsibility.
While you did help after the accident, Tenacity and Determination and I could have done it without you. Actually, come to think of it, we did do it without you – you just tripped over our feet from time to time. If you hadn’t helped, I wouldn’t have cussed out my nurses. I wouldn’t have unlocked myself from the wheelchair and pulled myself back into bed (which was really dangerous, by the by). There’s a lot of stupid stuff I’ve done that I don’t like; I just did it because of you.
So, listen, it’s not me, it’s you, and it’s just not gonna work. Smell ya later.
(This break-up brought to you courtesy of the Daily prompt)
Under the Covers
In response to the Daily Prompt in which we are asked to : Describe a memory or encounter in which you considered your faith, religion, spirituality — or lack of — for the first time.
I love this prompt. I love this topic and I love God, a loving God who has always been with me, no matter what I did or railed against them.
Like anyone, I imagine, I’ve had a twisted path to this God.
His name is Bill W.
The Daily Prompt asked to nominate someone for TIME’s Person of the Year. I want to talk about my dad, someone I didn’t meet for a long time. I was 20 when my dad came into my life.
For the first 20 years, I thought I had a dad, a sham of a father. He only came around when he wanted, abused my mother and I, looked down on us, and threatened us even after we finally got away. Some of his shit still crops up now and again that mom or I have to deal with.
My little developing child mind fixed that these are the kinds of things a Dad does. He says he loves us, and this is what fatherly love looks like.
No wonder I didn’t want kids. No wonder I didn’t want a family. No wonder I was so okay with being alone my whole life.
It’s getting kinda hectic
In response to today’s Daily prompt: You have the power to enact a single law. What would it be?
As a social scientist, I have thought a lot about policies and laws that I wish would get enacted, the trade-offs of such laws, and the unintended consequences, both good and bad. It’s hard to think of real and true changes that will bring the most good, despite the unintended consequences.
Therefore, I think that a law should be enacted that rewards companies for offering their employees downtime, like – in-office art projects or nap time, preferably both, and maybe also time to exercise if someone wants. If they don’t want to exercise, they can work through that time and go home early.
Perhaps the transportation system would be changed to interesting walkways for foot commuters, wide bike paths for cyclists, and slides and escalators for fun options up and down hills.
Finally, there will be small groups of performers wandering around performing – minstrels and trios, small skits and violin players. We would also make trees a priority – keeping and planting trees, weaving the walk paths through them or planting them along the edge. So there would be easy access to shade and music.
On the Edge of Two Eternities
Flash back:
The memory of my dad’s trumpet. I don’t have many good memories of him, but that’s one of them. Bike rides and summer days lived in the library because our house didn’t have air conditioning. Climbing the trees in my backyard. Moving to a different part of town for high school, feeling like I was telling the story from 90210. Marching band, and cool football night air on my cheeks sunburned from a week of afternoon practices. Music was a big part of those years. Maybe a threatening interaction before I went to Uni, a direct result of my dad’s nefarious activities. Car accident, coma, hard work and a triumphant return to building a life. Dad was cheating again in a way that threatened to put me out of school. This time, for the first time, I have the power to stop him from hurting me, and I do. He hasn’t talked to me since. I get closer to God and deal with health issues stemming from the accident. I backpack in England and Poland, and get a Master’s degree while working full-time. A trombone player from that high school marching band finds me on and we marry, happy to have someone to sit with.
“In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I have been anxious to improve the nick of time, and notch it on my stick too; to stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line.” H.D. Thoreau
Flash forward
Our wedding, then going to Spain and meditating on the Alhambra grounds. My dissertation research. I keep dealing with issues from the accident, and get my hip replaced. Living by the water where I stand-up paddle board every day, and working at home with my husband. We move further inland, towards the mountains, and buy land. We build a small home and read together under the trees of our land.
(In response to Daily Prompt)
I Didn't Just Wake Up This Morning With A Craving 