Bare with me

Remnants from a borderline.

As we grow and mature so does our sense of perception. The course of perceptive development occurs as our neurological web of synapse, receptors and connections of dendrites grow, prune and decay. The perception we have at this particular moment is only possible because you have developed an understanding of the English language and literacy to translate meaning from letters strung together. What I am proposing through my artistic license as a free and educated author is a compendium of suspension. Momentary suspension of our own perceptions for a chance to gain a better understanding and respect of each other.  I intend to present reflections upon a variety of subjects that I hope will lead to introspection, contemplation and a laugh or two wouldn’t do any of us harm.

That all being said, I am a sensitive, passionate person so this is your trigger warning if you need one. I will discuss very uncomfortable subjects for many people including myself.

I do this because I must. As Dr. Martin Luther King jr. once said, “Our lives begin to end the moment we become silent about the things that matter. This pandemic had stripped many of us from the people and groups that would discuss what stabbs at our hearts and hug us after. We are surrounded by animous, fear and hatred and death through our phones, televisions, radios, and even homes.

              I am attempting to reach a part of you that can understand someone who isn’t you, If these compositions resonate, feel free to reach out to me.

At a time when it feels like another civil war could break out over who is right and who has the most power, I hold moments of silence for a revolution that will not be violent, I somehow remain hopeful as many of us as is necessary will take the time to help each other where we agree and respect each other even if we don’t. 

              This ask is an investment on my part. I do not take putting myself out into the either of cloud cognition lightly. There is indeed a footprint of vulnerability locked into every word attributed to us on electronic media. Hopefully stating this fact will bring epiphany to those who think nothing of the words they type into someone elses life instantly. May I highly recomend taking at least 10 miniutes to self edit before sending. Save word vomit for drunken texts to an ex and not the harassment of a stranger, There are people who don’t realize that the wrong message on Snapchat could lead to a fatal snap.

I will read responses, posting warnings and write response blogs as needed. I will not respond to threats of violence, vulgarity, racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, etc. They are all contrary to being open to an attempt at understanding thus will only be used for insight.

In a clear attempt to begin I shall blurb about myself for a moment. I am an American white mutt. I do not know where I fit on several norms of identification such as, genX , millennial,  feminist, conservative, liberal, green, spiritual, Agnostic, Alien hunter, apocalypse prepper, etc.  I am in my 30s, as of 2020, and am from the south with a 4 year degree (for what it’s worth). It seems odd in a world with so many labels to not know where I fit but I am comfortable assuming that many of us do not always fit in only one of those labels because were we to be so conforming we would isolate and live as if the cliques of highschool never end.

So, I guess it’s safe to say that I find most of America dysfunctional and I am no acceptation.  Why write then? Why say anything at all? (I often ask myself) I have come here, to the World Wide Web as it was called during my last years of high school), because blogging is cheaper than therapy and our nation has no great insight as to how we could become better stewards of mental or physical health. Also because I am determined to appreciate how many wonderful people have been in my life, briefly and long-term.  These days with “followers” and “likes” I sense a sinking of meaningful relationships. This is not to belittle anyone’s relationships for using social media but I am painfully aware that were I to be a “tween” or teen in this climate of instant and ubiquitous social media, I would have been more determined to succeeded in suicide attempts. So I worry about everyone with depression right now. The closeness and sincerity of young friendship is so easily disposable these days that being unfriended may feel like the last bit of oxygen escaping a drowning soul.

I am writing this now because I know what it feels like to believe people forget about me when I leave the room. I know now that we all have an effect on each other, whether we want to or not.  It has taken more than half my life to understand that people can love me while I am nowhere near them or haven’t spoken to them in years. I am writing to say to the many people I call my friends all over the world, I have learned, laughed, and loved with you all in a sincere way that stays and has made a difference, if only because I overshare and interrupt in a very casual outgoing way giving you no option other than to interact with me.

              People have cried with me and confided in me. What made us friends is that we listened to one another and appreciated the needs of our conversations. What I bring here is intended to inspire more authentic meaning in our lives. When life has meaning it can be worth living and worth trying to improve.

  You will gain something, even if it is only that you gain the ability to remember what your perception was as a teen and now you can work on a better relationship with your child.