I am at war with the Facebook algorithm. I have tried everything to be able to see my conservative friends news feeds. The algorithm knows I am a liberal, and unless I actually search up their name, I never see them in my newsfeed. I was very political on Facebook when the former guy was running for re-election. I don’t like him very much. But it’s over. It would be nice to once in awhile see my friends that voted for him in my news feed. It seems like the only one that is taking this personally is the Facebook algorithm! So I write this blog today to let my conservative friends know that I love them. That I miss pictures of their animals. I miss pictures of their kids. Maybe the problem with the algorithm is that, it is not a human being. A human being would know that we love each other no matter what our political backgrounds are. And it is driving me to not be on Facebook very much. How do you fight against a formula? It’s math. I can’t fight against mathematics. But I truly believe if there was a human behind that algorithm I would see more of my friends.
Once upon a time in a place and a time not too far away from now, there was a family of three with beautiful wings. And they flew here and there and everywhere, until one day.
The Mamas Wings got clipped. But Daddy’s Wings and baby wings were still fine. So they still went here and there and everywhere. But mama no longer did. Mama had to find something else to do. Flight was no longer possible. So she thought, and she thought, and she thought some more. What can one do without wings?
So she started to write. Sometimes the pages flew off the screen. Sometimes it took her more than a day to write one sentence. But at least she had something to do, so she did not think so much that she has lost her ability to fly.
The baby was no longer a baby. And she did not remember that the mother could ever fly. And it made her so forlorn. Where Once Upon a Time she flew everywhere with her. All she wanted to do is play with her mother. her mother could no longer play in the Wind. It is hard to explain to a child, that once you were like them. But now you are not. And you will never have Wings again.
One day she will show her what she has written. She will show her that there is more to her than flight. But when you are a child, all that matters is to your wings.
And the mother knew this. So she was content letting the father and the baby go here and there and everywhere without her. So she was often alone. With her thoughts. With her written word. That she very seldom showed people. Because they are words for her. To help her from going crazy. Because it’s hard to sit knowing you once were able to fly. And instead of feeling sorry for herself she decided to write a story.
Knowing that she would probably never show this story to anyone, she decided to write about herself. And how she lost her wings. And how once she went here and there and everywhere. And how lonely it is being in a family of three when you really know deep down you are in the family of one. And one is the loneliest number.
So in her state of Solitude oh, she explained to the pages how she lost her wings. It was not her fault. These things do happen. When we least expect them. So we need to be grateful before we lose our wings.
And she knows one day her baby will grow up and will appreciate all the love she’s given her without her wings. She knows she cannot fly here and there and everywhere but her love still goes with her.
So she write this oh, and she must remember, that although she is always alone she is never alone. For her love goes here and there and everywhere.
What is the moral of the story? I think you know. Tell your wings you love them, because they take you here and there and everywhere, and you never know when you might lose them.
Sitting alone. Ever alone. Staring out into that endless void of contemplation. Knowing that you are completely helpless alone. Ever alone. And being one with the loneliness, leaves you to sit in this shell of emptiness, ever reaching, ever hoping, never knowing.
Thoughts stretch out across the infinit chasm that is your mind. Wondering if in this forever state of Solitude, if others have traveled into the realm of the same loneliness, and if so, are we truly ever alone?
One cannot help but dwell upon this narcissistic need to have thoughts that are completely of One’s Own doing. But if every thought has been thought before, one can never truly be alone, even amidst the empty loneliness that is your room. Your contemplation begins maddeningly to unravel. In the simplest sense, I think therefore I am, can never be achieved, knowing that the thought has been thought by someone else.
Sitting alone. Ever alone. Now drawing upon the conclusion that one is never truly alone, if one’s thoughts have been thought before, you realize the loneliness you feel has been perfected by so many. Stretching deep into that bottomless void you can never achieve the contemplation you desire. Knowing that your thoughts are not your own, knowing that I think therefore I am, has been found to be invalid, do you continue contemplating?
Or do you cease, give up, finding there to be no point even to put your words down on paper. You are left with an emptiness like you have never felt before. And you realize that you are truly, alone. Ever alone.
I am 41 years old. I love education. I love history, English, mathematics, you name it if it was education, I loved it.
This year I recently learned about the Tulsa Massacre. How did I not know about this? Why was it not in my history book? I understand history can be embarrassing. Slavery is pretty embarrassing, but I still learned about it oh, now I am beginning to question everything I ever learned.
I know I learned the battles of the Civil War different from students that live in the southern states. They choose to name them after creeks, but Northerners like to name them after fort or towns. Doesn’t make them different battles. Sherman’s marching to the sea no matter what you called the battles. But at least we learned about them.
The Tulsa Massacre happened in 1921. That is 59 years before I was born. And I know more about the Civil War. My white Anglo-Saxon Protestant brain is deeply troubled by this.
What else did I get wrong? By occupation I am an English teacher. I learned all about William Shakespeare. I am classically trained. Yet, today we question who William Shakespeare was! How much of what he wrote in Henry the fourth was truly fiction? How much did Socrates and Plato actually know? When I read Plato my favorite was allegory of the cave. What if someone else wrote it and he took credit?
Yes, I know probably not. But because I just learned about the Tulsa Massacre now I question everything. And I don’t want to question everything. I have always relied on my education to get me through anything. I have never doubted it. Greenwood in Tulsa Oklahoma has ruined that for me.
As a teacher, I would never lie to my students. But how do I know the facts I am teaching them are the truth?
Well, it is official, WordPress family and blog in poetry followers, I am 41 and over the hill. And I’ve never been happier about it. As you know, I am on borrowed time. Felt like that ever since I was on life support a few years back. But this is what I have learned today,
I love my family so much. The best present I could ever have I already got! At Mother’s Day dinner, it was so nice to be able to hug everyone. Because we are all vaccinated now! You don’t realize how much you need a hug, until you’re not allowed to hug your family because of a pandemic.
Today has also told me that I am not young anymore. I wake and bake this morning. Man, I’m not young anymore. I don’t like this feeling in the morning. Luckily I am writing in this now as it is wearing off. But hey, I’m a New Yorker, and I can talk to you about this because it is legal now ☺️ still feels weird to me. How about all of you? This is probably how they felt when alcohol prohibition ended. You still feel like you need to sneak around even though you don’t need to. It is weird
So what can I tell you also about my 41st birthday, my husband and I did not want to mention it, but it seems like I’m a little stronger. Maybe some new neural pathways are growing years after stem cell transplant! I don’t know, I am just grateful. Any little bit of strength I can get I am grateful for. I await the results of my MRI, hopefully no news will be good news.
Happy May 10th 2021, friends! I think we might be coming out of this pandemic. Thanks for sharing another birthday with me, what is my birthday wish? Well I have everything that I want, so I will make an environmental wish. Let’s all plant a lot of flowers for the bees this year! We may have found a way to come out of this pandemic, but the murder Hornets are another story….