I’m just a very average person. I didn’t finish college; I was a piano player/music major. I had performance anxiety. Couldn’t handle the pressure. Thought music was supposed to be fun. It wasn’t. I tried to own and run a couple of businesses in my 30′s and 40′s; without money you can’t make money. I just barely survived. I’m still proud of my efforts. I now own a little place here in Texas, whatever that means. It just means I’m not homeless yet. Taxes are still unpaid, and I’m so broke today I endured major humiliation at the pharmacy this morning when I attempted to put my roommate’s medicine on account there. I went back outside to a truck that was on E and had been for the whole entire trip to the hospital last night.
Yes, I spent last night in a tiny Texas hospital to take my friend/roommate to get some relief from four long days and nites of sheer mind-bending pain as his back continues to deteriorate. It looks like I will be taking care of a man bed-ridden with arthritis and degenerative spine disease, and we all know how much fun that will be. I will do it because I am here, he is here, and it’s just what will probably happen. He never manages his money properly, and his priorities for spending or “paying” are all wrong in my mind. Seems like helping me with ever increasing land taxes would take precedence over satellite tv. But then he knows that I will pay it somehow, no matter how bad it causes me to suffer. I will not lose the farm out of stupidity.
I think the whole nation of America has gone to hell in a handbasket, quite frankly. We all initially bought the 9/11 story we were fed. Very few “average” Americans want to even discuss it, much less consider that our very own government was behind the hell of that day. It just looks like to me their “cover-up” wasn’t very well executed. Many very credible people have made crystal clear the obvious discrepancies that became part and parcel of what the media fed to us. Just like so many of my personal friends, I too was very slow to examine that day with critical thinking.
I believe George Carlin said the best we can do at this point is just try to live our lives as best we can. How sad. I know George was “just” a comedian. But in my mind he was also a genius. If you search him on YouTube and listen to his last gigs, he will definitely set you straight on who owns America.
You know to be living in a “free society” this is the most damned complicated red-tape agency-controlled place I could ever imagine. I put my stuff on Facebook and I sign petitions with my real name because I don’t care if people know it’s me saying what I say. I don’t care if they are “watching,” cataloging and keeping track of me. Big deal. I’m just an average Jane. I’d tell them straight to their sorry faces.
I don’t like to be negative, but this is different. It’s like having a parent or a husband lie and cheat on you, in the worst sort of way, abandon you, not give a damn, actually Kill innocent people. Americans. What the hell kind of world is this. Some say, “go to Cambodia.” Go experience life without all the interference and monitoring. If I wasn’t almost six decades old now, and just too tired, I would be the first on the plane. I guess I will just go down with my ship.
Today my roommate screamed and raged at me. After we returned from the hospital my back was killing me too. I have scoliosis and even when I saw the x-rays of my spine I was shocked. But my doctor will not prescribe any pain relief unless I am practically incoherent with pain, and you do learn to live with it. Basically, I just practice everything in my day carefully, so as to avoid any chance of the really “bad” kind of pain. That means that many chores and things that need doing, just don’t get done. And for me, that’s heartbreaking. I wonder if things will get so bad that someday some alien freaks will just invade my tiny farm and haul us away. Getting old in America generally means only one thing if you don’t have really good kids, which I don’t: nursing home. Well, I have a different plan. Before it gets that bad, or before they come to take me away, I’ll be cruising north toward Colorado looking for a nice soft white mountain of snow that I can lay down in with a bottle of really good rum and a six pack of cokes. American to the end! I guess some mass conditioning is inescapable.
I love to write. It takes me away from the daily fight, it gives me a vent for my ideas and feelings, since I don’t touch the piano anymore. I also have manic depression, or… yes… the dreaded “bipolar.” Well, that’s the diagnosis I was given a few years back. Yes, I experience periods of extreme happiness and amazing energy, but I don’t hurt anyone else with it, I don’t hear voices, and I don’t have crazy ideas like some people seem to. But I hurt and break like a tiny china cup whenever I hear of the cruelties of man against other people and innocent creatures. I cannot always keep my mouth shut when there is injustice. Some people don’t like boat-rockers. Guilty as charged.
So after I returned this morning with my roommate’s medicines, and got treated like an idiot who would take any type of treatment without recourse, I am taken back to my Buddhist proclivities, my learned Zen way of dealing with aggression, and I just want to shut down, retreat, meditate on the “God” energy that is supposed to be inside of me. Hopefully, this will just be one of those unexpected “bad” days, and tomorrow things will ease up and I can find my way back into some sort of routine.
I really thank all of the people that have read the words I put together. It has just been a playful exercise in writing, with some sense of seriousness at times. I came from some really good people who worked very hard to make a life for their family, but it was very hard for them, they suffered with things much the same as I do now. No way to pay outrageous dentist fees. So you just deal with the problems as best you can. My mother died telling me she had a bad tooth. She went into Baylor Medical in Dallas to have her kidney removed due to a tumor. She died on the second day after. I still think about her bad tooth sometimes.
When you are poor, it sucks. I have had money before, so I can say that. I used to make $900 every two weeks back in 1993 when I worked downtown Austin for attorneys. Which is nothing, I know, but I promise you I earned every cent. Now thanks to the social security I had to pay out of every paycheck, I receive the equivalent of $200 a week. If I didn’t own my house, I’d be in big big trouble. If you’ve ever tried to run a house, keep up a vehicle, have clothes, shoes, and eat, it’s freakin hard on $200 a week. I’ve had a plumbing issue in my bath now for months. Who can afford a plumber these days…
My favorite child of 21 yrs. lives in Pakistan. She tells me there are not apartments in Gujar Khan for whities like me with blue eyes. Probably no apartments period. I can’t sponsor her financially to get her visa to go to school here, because I’m broke. Lots of red tape, believe me. And she’s right up there around Islamabad and Peshawar, the worst of the worst. Just last week a young woman was shot six times and her father shot in the head as they left a beauty salon in the even worse northwest Pakistan. Her husband had it done because she divorced him to follow her dream to sing. I don’t think Islam looks very highly on music of any type. How very very sad. Poor poor girl.
So I have no “altered consiousness” to expound upon here today. I am very much grounded in reality, far more than I have ever experienced in all my life. As this new presidential election looms ever closer, I am ashamed to say, I will not be voting. As George Carlin said, it is just an “illusion of choice.” I tell you what, if anyone ever does try to take me by force, or take my land, or if America quickly reaches the inevitable collapse course it is riding the ragged edge of right now, they better have a good plan for me, because I will become their biggest nightmare. I can show you bipolar!
So now I will return this laptop back to the ungrateful roommate that gave it to me two years ago, because I no longer want to argue and dance around asking to have it back. He broke my television moving furniture, his extra large monolith is in the pawn shop and the satellite people want over $300 to turn it back on. But despite looming overdue land taxes, he will no doubt go get his tv and pay the satellite company rather than relieve my stress and help me save our home. Because he can’t amuse himself at all, with a book, or by doing something fun, because he has long passed being that “fun” guy I first met in 2001.
But you know what? It doesn’t really matter. None of it. I had a super great grandfather and grandmother that I still love and miss everyday because they showed me what living in a home could be like without yelling, wife-beating and the daily “tension theatre.” I can just go back to their beautiful little white framed bungalow up on the hill, and in my mind, I can recapture what I recognized to be kind and gentle, caring people, who were able to show a confused and scared little girl a little compassion. Anyway, I am just waiting for my audio cd from Deepak Chopra to finally come in from Amazon (Yes, I spent some ten odd dollars early in the month) so I can shut my eyes and listen to his beautiful intelligent voice calm my raging soul.
Next month I will no doubt try to get a new laptop on payments, so I can once again enjoy reading and following my friends and heros. I have my priorities too. And don’t worry about leaving me cheery comments this time. I know this was just a major blow-out for me. I just like to play around with writing. hehe Take care Mags, Melody, Eideard, Nye, Jules and all you really great writers and photo-journalists. I’ll be back asap because I love to read your stuff! Love, Cissy (peace!)