The Tragic Life of a Leaf 🍃 🍁


The Tragic Life of a Leaf

You start out green and new, as a brand new shoot, nurtured by a Loving Mother Tree, and surrounded by lush, growing sibling leaves all
In relative, naive Harmony.
You mature and grow into The Most Beautiful Version of Yourself, peaking a little too early, given the length of your Life Cycle.

After you’ve served Your Purpose (you were never told what it was), your kindly mother turns on you;
Once she nurtured you, watered you, and warmed you by sunlight.
You were whole and thriving and complete.
Now, She cuts off these vital nutrients.
All of a sudden, you’re given no light, no food, no water.
And no answers about WHY.
Your sibling leaves are going through a similar situation,
So they are of very little use to you.
Frankly, they’re every bit as confused as you.
You slowly starve and dry up until you’re officially “desiccated.”
Then, the Mother Tree drops you.
The winds of change blow you onto a completely random path,
forcing you to intermingle with leaves you don’t even know,
Making one last splash as “fall foliage,”
Which you don’t even enjoy because you look so differently than you did in your prime , you barely recognize yourself anymore.

The next thing you know, you’re 5 miles down the road, in a Stranger’s yard (not even a nice one),
Being raked into giant piles and stuffed into suffocating black garbage bags,
Kicked to the curb to ferment a little while, and then
Carted off by some rather grubby-looking men to be burned and cremated.

By that point, you welcome it.

Old Mold Going Bad from Too Much Time Lost in Draft

NOT MUCH IN COMMON

The people I have the least in common with are the ones who have no sense of their own mortality.

They always think there’s a better time and place for everything, never realizing they could be dead in an hour.

This realization, once realized, can’t NOT alter one’s entire perspective on life – as well as death.

Sometimes I over-correct with Karaoke, but that’s all it is: Overcorrecting.

Like buying a cheap goldfish
to repopulate the waters of Nagasaki.

Does that mean I’m a zombie?
If so, watch out… because I’ll eat you!
I’m highly opportunistic; as hardy and resourceful as a cockroach!

How do you think I’ve Survived this entire time?

Not Much In Common: Am I Dead inside?

NOT MUCH IN COMMON

The people I have the least in common with are the ones who have no sense of their own mortality.

They always think there’s a better time and place for everything, never realizing they could be dead in an hour.

This realization, once realized, can’t NOT alter one’s entire perspective on life – as well as death.

Sometimes I over-correct with Karaoke, but that’s all it is: Overcorrecting.

Like buying a cheap goldfish
to repopulate the waters of Nagasaki.

Does that mean I’m a zombie?
If so, watch out… because I’ll eat you!
I’m highly opportunistic; as hardy and resourceful as a cockroach!

How do you think I’ve Survived this entire time?

About My Own Traumas: Regarding God

ABOUT GOD & PERSONAL TRAUMA

The Answers are Clear,
And All are found Here.

While I may not understand
I still believe in God You see,
For He’s the Sole & Only Man
Who still loves me as I am.

I appreciate your generosity,
Sympathy & Poetic Empathy,
But it’s taking more time for me
Because I lost Absolutely
All And Everything.

I hope you know I still believe,
But don’t expect To Receive
Much of hollow Anything
Since both hidden
Comfort and Relief
I’ve Found are somehow
Lost to me.

RACING THOUGHTS & New Disclaimers ♨️

I’ve just lived a Month of Hell I don’t understand and for the first time recently, haven’t had the words to describe. But I want to try.

The last 3-6 weeks (I can’t remember) have been a Giant, Extended, Protracted Clusterfuck of Epic Proportions. On a Daily Basic. Comprised of the following Ingredients:

1. The Daily Trifecta of Physical Mental, and Emotional Anguish.
2. That Damn Oral Surgery: the additional pain, the inconvenience, the EXPENSE, CVS and other Mosquitoes, the recovery period, the healing period, the waiting for the next phase, the fact there IS a Next Phase,
3. Going from February to July, at least where I live, brought my favorite Wardrobe Season, Mild Winter, to a screeching halt with As-Yet-Unworn-But-Recently-Purchased clothing Making Eyes from my closet; who knows if they’ll Wink at me next year? Also, the abrupt and drastic change in temperature has been hell on ONE of my pains: an exceptionally rare and therefore un-researched disorder, Erythromelalgia, or “Man-on-Fire Disease.” Let’s leave it that for now; I don’t want to burn you.
4. THE COMPANY: Profound Loneliness, Static Aloneness, A Despairing Sense of Pointlessness, Pissed-Off Self Loathing, Absence of Invitations, Unwillingness to Extend Invitations, Inability to Accept or Extend Invitations, Unfounded but CONVINCED Ugliness, Too Much Time But Nothing To Do, Wouldn’t Do It Anyway, Profound Sorrow, Regret!, Ghosts from the Past, Abject Misery, Fear of My Future, Inability to Cope with the Present, Paralysis,, Growing Emptiness, Social Anxiety, Agoraphobia (home both caste and prison of my own making), and therefore:

ZERO KARAOKE.

I NEED a weekly fix of Karaoke to handle the Slings and Arrows of my Outraged Fortune.

The good news is I FINALLY sought self-care by Undergoing Transformation of both Upper AND Lower Nails on Wednesday. All 20 are now Bulleted and Shellacked in Deluxe, Upgraded Red Glitter and Reflecting in Top Coat. How’s THAT for “Spring Color?“

I’m still not feeling great. But at least the Racing Thoughts in My Head are
Lovingly Whispering:

Karaoke Tonight?

(Gracias for the photo, @thenixcreative)

♨️ Is My New Disclaimer for Very Foul Language and/or Sexually Explicit Talk

Karaoke and Other Coping Cliches

Be careful who you dismiss as “shallow” or “not serious enough.”

Some people have been so subtracted from, they’re not just empty, they’re minus.

Fleeting happiness is welcomed as a distraction, but the change in direction can cause emotional whiplash; a disorder known for releasing peals of startled laughter, often transforming the source of the laughter into an obsession. Or an addiction.

These people are so acclimated to chronic anguish, they’re easily amused.

My point? Simply to “not judge a book by its cover.” Or even better: “Don’t dismiss someone as a ‘novella’ until you’ve read her unabridged story.”

NAGASAKI

Highly Emotional.
Highly Hormonal.
Lowly Hormonal?
Post-Menopausal.
Post-Apocalyptic.
Hiroshima!
Mad Max and the Thunderzone.
Dry and Dusty.
Giant Dustbowl.
Giant Dirtbag.
Nihilistic.
Nietche, for Heaven’s Sake!
Vast Wasteland.
Sheer Emptiness.
Inner Darkness.
Utter meaninglessness.
Couldn’t Care Less!
What are you gonna do about it?
I wouldn’t suggest it.
No other options.
Last Chance.
Good luck!
Charred Death.
Not Even Buried.
Limbs Scattered.
Cockroaches Only: All Others
KEEP OUT‼️

New Beginnings??

A Terrible Thing

You know that thing that drives you,
that gives you purpose,
that causes you to get back on the damned horse,
no matter how hard your life gets?

Well…
It’s a terrible thing to lose.

“Broken Bad?” and Recent Weight Loss

So I break laws (take my mother’s estrogen patches) and defy the universe to even try to fuck with me again on that lame old score (breast cancer).

Cause that bitch done already been paid over and over and over again. In a million different ways. She owes ME at this point. Besides, she wouldn’t recognize me anymore.

Why? Oddly enough and without trying, I think I’ve mastered [and all inaccuracies and ignorances are mine here, especially since I’ve never read it] “the subtle art of not giving a fuck.”

Because:

Isn’t it a little presumptuous of anyone to assume ANY of us will be here tonight, tomorrow, or 3 months from now? In fact, I nearly laughed out loud just now making a 3-month follow-up appointment with my migraine doctor.

I don’t know what kind of/if any philosophy my views might reflect. I only know this is how I feel/what I think: who knows, I’m always getting the two confused, anyway.

At least this is what I feel-think today. That could change tomorrow. I can’t commit to much of anything at this point, you see. So I’m sorry/not sorry. You’ll just have to deal with it.

What does this look like, practically speaking? I can (of course) only speak for myself. But…

I do stupid things like: I go off and leave personal belongings at the doctor’s office, then have to drive THE WHOLE WAY BACK to retrieve them. Yeah…why weren’t they the kind of personal belongings I wouldn’t have been allowed to exit the building without? If I’d left my mask, I know I wouldn’t have gotten far.

I’ve also become a terrible judge of character, turning Ignorant Assholes into Prince Charmings with NO DATA WHATSOEVER TO SUPPORT THESE CONCLUSIONS!!

Thank goodness I seem capable from learning from my mistakes in that department. This week at least.

I sing karaoke too much, smoke weed too much, forget to feed myself, refuse to clean my room, and spend far too much of my discretionary income on my hair [because I intend to look good for the duration].

Maybe I’m a little fixated on my hair because I’m so glad it grew back? I don’t know if this theory holds water because I also spend money on my sexy fake fingernails.

So… no news to you, my friends, but I’m not being particularly responsible these days. [Visitors: don’t get excited thinking you’re going to scam me; I’m not a sucker anymore, sucker – and even when I was, you couldn’t squeeze me.]

For my subscribers, who have suffered through at least one of my posts, we need to collectively face reality: I suck at karaoke. Yes, it’s true and I know it’s true. Y’all are just being sweet, but I know I suck.

Yet… I still don’t care!! Maybe because there’s no one left to embarrass but my mom, and no one would dare inform her of her adult daughter’s colossal lapses in judgment (out of respect for my mom).

I don’t know if it’s the weed or an existential crisis or even a POST-existential crisis. I only know I’m both a Total Flake and an Utter Mess.

At least that’s the look I’m shooting for.

This week.

How am I doing?

And why…

And why…

In your Absolute Sovereignty,

Did you allow us NO sovereignty to help allay the constant suffering which marks the human condition?

While subsequently labeling any “human pleasures” which allay that suffering as

SIN-full and EVIL?

I played by your rules my Whole Fucking Life.

And mostly?

I’m just mad about all the years I wasted.

In fact, I’m:

Really fucking pissed off.





WTF??

Why in Heaven’s Name did you decide to make us human if you’re going to consign us to ten eternities in hell for simply being human?

The logic evades me. But I’m a thorough louse for even asking. Right? I know: more shame on me.

A Matter of Intent

Journal, 11/07/21

People who say “The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions” are flat wrong in my opinion.

The intention behind one’s actions matters.

It would never bring your loved one back, but wouldn’t you be more inclined to forgive someone who accidentally killed your loved one in a freak car crash that you yourself could have easily gotten into than someone who ruthlessly schemed and then executed his or her murder?

And though it would be equally horrific and tragic, would it be different to lose a population because nuclear bombs were accidentally dropped instead of being deliberately targeted and exterminated by evil in everyday clothes?

I don’t know the answer to the second question.

I only know good intentions are important.

At a minimum, they’re a starting point: a ship from which to launch concern instead of neglect; love instead of hate.

And without good intentions, isn’t the good we’re being given a tool of manipulation?

Just a thought.

Why I Don’t Feel Guilty for Watching True Crime stories

I used to feel guilty about watching true crime stories on TV or listening to true crime podcasts. I think it came down to the idea I was receiving recreational entertainment from the suffering of others.

Then I had an epiphany that upended my views on the topic, and it’s this:

In society we honor the bravery of our survivors, but we do very little to honor the suffering of those who perished.

By the time we read the salacious headlines or hear the horrific details of a mass shooting, child abduction, or [violent, sadistic, evil; all redundant terms] murder, someone has already endured an agonizing death. Alone and Afraid.

I know it sounds weird but I honestly think it honors the victims’ memories when other people listen to how they suffered and feel an infinitesimal amount of their pain.

It’s the closest thing we can do now to holding their hands as they died then. It’s not a religious thing, it’s a “compassion for the victims and their families” thing.

So I never feel guilty for watching true crime shows: it helps me do my humanitarian duty to the souls who were forced to depart early.

#RIP, Heaven’s Favorites.

More Questions for My Latest Suitor, to be revised on an ongoing basis

1. Why did you go and make us flawed, pathetic humans if you were going to punish us for being flawed, pathetic humans? You say you gave us freedom of choice so we could willingly choose to obey you.

I’m sorry, but what were you thinking? Do you not think that over the course of millennia, one of us ‘Yay-hoos’ down here would think: “Let me try this anyway?” Were you lying in wait for ONE of us to break a rule so you could punish ALL of us? That’s ONE part I’ve never understood.

2. And how can you guarantee it won’t happen again after Armageddon goes down and Heaven’s Favorites are where they’re supposed to be? Will they be the temptation-less automatons who so bugged you during the design phase, but who are now somehow perfect?

You get back to me with the answers to 1 and 2, and I’ll meet You for a conversation.

Oh, and I don’t intend on quitting sinning, either. Nope, while I’m still here, I’ll get my dopamine and serotonin where I can (thank you very much). Metaphorically: Apples are good for the digestion.

Disclaimer: if you weren’t carved into a “Believer” from birth, you might not understand this weird-ass conversation we’re having. You probably were required to memorize scripture from old and new testaments alike as both young child and adult to recognize the “code.”

My Newest Suitor, cont.

Oh the conversation continued alright. Not because of miracles (wait, except for that big one last week I completely forgot about until write now)…I was going to say “not because of miracles but because the guy refuses to quit stalking me…in my HEAD!”

Do you know the way an iPhone 12 will start to play from your APPLE MUSIC collection when you aren’t listening to Google for a nanosecond (or some other weird Apple shit like that)? Well, as soon as I publish that last post and go back to what I’m doing, Apple Music starts playing from the old limited playlists in my Pre-Spotify Period and he sandwiches “Better is One Day in Your Courts” next to Brothers Osborne’s “Let Me Love the Lonely Out of You.”

I say: that’s not very subtle, dude. And you KNOW that younger one is gay. You know how you ABHOR all that shit! I think it’s very hypocritical of you to choose it. Not that I’m gay of course, but I did just confess to empathizing with Lucifer, so I can imagine I’m not looking radiantly beautiful right now. Plus, how would you like to be hated just because of your internal feelings?

So I figure out how to STOP APPLE MUSIC and switch back to Spotify. It immediately goes to this song I love called “She Fucking Hates Me” from 2002. But I can’t listen to it for some crazy reason. I know it’s sappy, but I actually switch to my Love Songs playlist. So I entered willingly. But there ARE some extreme songs in there! Why does the first one have to be “I Have Loved You For a Thousand Years”?

Yesterday I was thinking that I needed a caveman in my romantic life: one whose signals I can’t misinterpret. Is he trying to prove his omniscience here? Because let’s get one thing straight: I have NEVER DOUBTED YOUR OMNISCIENCE. What I have DOUBTED is your love and concern for me at all, despite all the crying and weeping other people report feeling when overcome by your “great big majestic love” or something similar. Let’s face it, you have dealt me some serious blows, man. I mean: let’s not bullshit each other, ok? Can we just go for the jugular here? Better yet: read my FUCKING BLOG‼️

You have a lot to explain to me before I will EVER trust you again.

P.S. Please stop the downloads of compassion for my father. I don’t think I can handle another one. It breaks me into a million tiny pieces and you’ll be stuck knowing it was all your fault.

P.P.S. I’m starting to realize why you ripped every baby out of my womb, sparing me no bloodshed. It’s because you knew the day I realized I’d done the same things to THEM that the father you gave me did to ME, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Am I supposed to be grateful?