Sometimes it just happens

I am Presbyterian. By definition my f a t e has already been decided. Many Presbyterians will pray and pray and pray and pray for their path in life to be altered. For example, if you’re a drug addict you were predestined to be a drug addict. And the only way to beat your Affliction is to pray. I am a school teacher. By Presbyterian definition I was always meant to be a schoolteacher, and nothing else. If I want to be something else , well, I have to pray for it. But this has always been okay because I’ve never wanted to do anything but be a teacher.

So I guess I was predestined to have multiple sclerosis. And I can’t do anything about it. Unless I pray and pray and pray and pray and pray oh, and maybe if I’m lucky my path will be altered. Anyways, that is what Presbyterians believe. And I have always believed this. And being an English teacher, I read lots of poems.

Robert Frost is my favorite. You know the one that goes, two roads diverged in the woods and I took the One Less Traveled by. And that made all the difference. We all know from our English teachers, Robert Frost is being ironic. Taking the path Less Traveled by didn’t make a damn difference. Therefore, shit just happens. Doesn’t matter how much you pray, doesn’t matter if you turn left or right, shit just happens. But I am Presbyterian. My path has been chosen, but if I pray I can change it. I like this better. Knowing that shit just happens bothers me. I like that I can pray and maybe alter my path. Maybe I will pray hard enough and be able to walk one day. But I doubt it. That’s the problem isn’t it? It’s all about believing. I do not believe I will ever walk. Therefore, How Could my prayers ever come true that I will walk again?

And here lies the crutch of my problem. Do I believe my favorite poet or do I trust my religion. Because if shit just happens, aren’t we all a little bit fucked?

Reality check

I have discovered something. I always kind of thought social media was a scam. It’s not real. I enjoy it thoroughly. As most do. But it’s not real. Lately I have been testing the algorithm to see if what I thought was true. It is. Facebook just wants to make money off you. You get sold all the time 2 companies that sell you advertisement. I guess that’s the price you pay to enjoy Facebook.

So I have started hanging out on Twitter. I’ve gotten myself a whopping 5 followers. It’s very interesting. I know they have an algorithm also oh, but it seems to not be as cruel over there as it is on Facebook. Facebook always suggest groups to me that are not very nice. Twitter on the other hand, has suggested nothing to me except for other people to follow.

This self experiment I’m doing is quite interesting. I have a Facebook account that is a die-hard right-winger. A conservative. You would not believe the things that Facebook tries to suggest to that account.

My actual account is of course me. But Facebook is constantly trying to sell me stuff that I would never buy. I went through a couple months of seeing absolute products in my advertisement Newsfeed. Now I am seeing graduate college courses. I have never bought anything from Facebook, but they continue to try to sell me stuff.

Leaving me to believe it’s all kind of a joke. I like seeing my friends. I like seeing kids pictures and watching children grow up. I can’t take the political nonsense anymore. People have gotten so cruel to each other. Name-calling. Vulgarity. I have no use for it anymore.

So I’m trying to stay away from social media. Just a little bit here and there, but not like 24/7 like I used to do. I think it was wearing on my mental soul. And I need a return to normalcy. I think we all do. Unplug once in awhile. It’s really good for you. It’s been 4 days and I got to tell you guys I feel a lot better. Hang in there. Spread love. And if you are one of those that are always on social media please spread kindness. There’s way too much anger on there. We got a change this. We can. We will. With love ❤️

Dear 2055

Dear 2055, we are sorry. We thought we had a few more years.

I am sure now in 2055 you have many fears which lead to many tears.

We asked you for forgiveness. We simply did not know.

How far pollution and greed would actually go.

We should have left the coal alone. Let it turn into diamonds. That it would look pretty in a ring

We simply did not know all the destruction that mining would bring.

Dear 2055, we are so fucking sorry! I wish I could make it 1980 again. I would recycle more. But I can’t go back.

And now dear 2055, your planet is under attack!

If it is even still there. I sure do hope so.

I love this blue planet. I hope crops still grow.

Dear 2055, if I make it I will be 70.

I hope we can come up with a global warming remedy.

I don’t want to leave this mess to my daughter, and I’m scared.

They tell me that I should just be prepared.

I got to tell you 2055, it does not look good.

We should have been more careful. We should while we still could.

Dear 2055, I don’t think we will make it out alive.

Although we tried, I think we killed this planet with our stupid Pride

Boredom

How many poems can one person write being bored?

Let’s find out shall we.

One poem for my husband, wherever he is.

1 poem for my daughter, who is the Tik Tok Wiz.

One poem for my cat, who patiently Waits my lap.

One poem for my neighbor, who is the kindly chap.

One poem just because. Because it is something to do.

One poem became a limerick. Not sure if that one is true

One poem for my mother. The greatest of the dames.

One poem for my brother. Brilliant in all he claims.

One poem for my friends. Two more for my f o e s

Three poems for the devil. Because he definitely knows

Who to send the next poem too.

It could be Steven. It could be Sue.

But alas, no more, the last one goes to you ️ ☺️

The witching hour

The buzz of the alarm goes off. It is 6 a.m. Wake up!

Morning routine. The Daily Grind. It is 5 p.m. Go home!

Nighttime routine. Dinner. TV. It is 10 p.m. Go to sleep!

The buzz of the alarm goes off. It’s 6 a.m. Wake up!

Morning routine. The Daily Grind. It is 5 p.m. Go home!

Nighttime routine. Dinner. TV. It is 10 p.m. Go to sleep!

Stop. Listen. Breathe. It is 3 a.m. The witching hour.

Anything and everything is possible during the witching hour.

3 a.m. is when I draw inspiration. Power.

Make it last. Minutes tick by. Let the inspiration Tower

It is so fleeting, the moments turned sour.

The buzz of the alarm goes off….