Experience Hoarding- The real funny truth and nothin' but.

Experience Hoarders

Disclaimer: I curse in this blog a whole lot. If you are offended by that, please understand that my outlet is in my writing and I don't expect this to be printed out for anyone under 16 years old as quality reading material. 

What in the hell does that mean exactly? Well, I'm here to tell you what my new term is, and how it's defined.. as well as...What it means in your life, and how you can avoid being a douche.


The other day(actually like 2 months ago) I was at this party with several people that I haven't seen in years. I've "seen" them, as in I've looked at their posts on a 2x4 screen... but I haven't SEEN them in a 3-D environment sharing the same atmospheric elements.

 I was super stoked to go to this shindig and catch up with everyone, tell stories, have what the old humans call, "a conversation." However, about 4.5 minutes into this gorilla sized let down, I looked around the room and e'rrrbody was on 'dey phones. ERRRRRBODY. They were tagging pictures, posting updates, taking photos of their fucking overpriced bullshit liqueur and as I was sitting there sharing the same air with these fucks, I started getting "notifications."

"_________ is hangin' at ________ with peeps from ol' school days! Having the most AMAZING time, jealous world?" 

"_________ is at the dopest bar in Dallas kickin' it old school with some bad ass AMAZING biaatches! Wooooot! OMG I love this place! Take a looksy at my drinksy, stay classy San Diego! :) " 

(and now my personal favorite)

"ROFL, Melodee Lenz is like the FUNNIEST person in THA WORRRRRLD. It's so amazing to be here with all my super insane friends. lol." 
(this one was tagged with a photo of me looking lonely and staring distantly into the darker part of the bar)

Let me say something... I hadn't told any funny stories at that point when the notifications started streaming to my iPhone. I wasn't "on" yet because to be "on" one must gain some momentum within the perimeters of an ACTUAL CONVERSATIONAL DIALOGUE.

I had to relieve myself in the restroom and regain the personal strength I lost when I started receiving these notifications of how awesome this party was- because I feared ( like you do) that I had eagle-eyed the wrong party and possibly could be (as I've historically always feared about myself) crazy.

Like they say... if you question whether or not you're crazy, you most likely aren't crazy.  "They" say a lot of dumb shit though so....

The night went on and there were some conversations peppered into the duration of time between 7pm and 2am, but for the most part it was pretty fuckin' lame.

Jump to NEXT DAY...
I wake up with a barrel full of notifications regarding comments and "likes" and one fingered approvals of my fucking "amazing" night out. That my dear sir is quite queer because I don't remember it as such? How fuckin' daft of me! How could I not recall such an explosive night of "amazing" shit? "AMAZING" drinks, "AMAZING food," "AMAZING bartenders named Raj," an "AMAZING vibe here..."

Fuck you, it's not amazing, stop fucking saying everything is amazing, don't you remember the story about the boy that cried fuckin' WOLF you assholes? Yeah, when a fuckin' unknown metallic hover craft comes in through the Einstein Rosen bridge fuckin' wormhole and lands in the middle of the field during the Superbowl half-time show crushing Paul McCartney's piano from the EMF waves...what fuckin' word are you gonna say then bitch? Oh what? What? You can't say AMAZING because you fuckin' used up all your amazing punch card slots! ... and that was THE wolf.

I digress.

This whole thing got me ta' thinkin'.

I started playing a little game I call, "what really happened last night?" This definitely got me out of the house more because to play this game you have to actually GO to the places you are invited to. I started going to various get-togethers, birthday parties, cook outs, events, etc... I would take notes in my head about the 'said' event and then I'd compare my notes to the shit that would surface on Twitter or Facebook the next day. They NEVER match up. I began reading the "feed" on these sites and came to the conclusion that most people now are hoarders. Experience hoarders.

They hoard their experiences by storing them in their phones. These experiences became so cluttered that they are now spilling out of the phone and into your phone. If this were actual physical objects we're talking about here- the entire US would be buried in blurry edged washed-out 1975 filter photos and 10 second film reels and the muffled sounds of "hilarious" custom ringtones or notification bells... the occasional hand that shoots out from the rubble to take a "selfy," etc...

This term "Experience Hoarder" popped into my head after watching a live performance  and having ridiculously great seats, and seeing everyone else around me-Also with great seats- watching this show through the 2x4 screen of their iPhones. They aren't IN the experience, they are hoarding it for their status update and they will never watch it again but will recall it as "amazing."

Now it's time to call myself out and take the plank out of my own eye...

I was syncing my iPhone about 2 months ago and it was taking FOREVER. I got this shitty pop-up Apple "your computer doesn't hold all this shit Melodee" window. I was so angry at my devices... "work damn you, do what I say, I'm the boss of you Come the fuck ON! What do you mean there's no space for my collection of self-important shit?"

 There wasn't.

 I had actually crashed my hard drive's motivation with the amount of self-deemed important shit. It didn't fit.

That's when you have to evaluate the following:
1. What is actually on my phone?
2. What is that photo/video even mean?
3. When did any of that happen?
4. Why was I there?
5. Is it important enough to keep?

By the time you get to #5 on that list the very nucleus of that internal correspondence with yourself starts to fight back like a primitive pagan forest demon in a cleansing ceremony. "BLAHHHHH, GRRR, FUCK YOU IT'S IMPORTANT, YOU FUCKIN' I WILL FUCKIN' RAPE YOU AND I DESERVE TO BE INSIDE THINGS, I AM THAT ONE TIME WHEN YOU WENT TO THAT ONE PLACE.. DON'T YOU REMEMBER YOU FUCKING AMOEBA, YOU FUCKING SINGLE CELLED BITCH, I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE ADMONISHED AND REVERED AND I WILL GRRRRR STAY IN YOUR DEVICES GRRRRR."

Remember that time I was wondering about whether or not I was crazy? (hi hat drum riff) Lil' joke recall there folks.

I had a choice. I could either buy another computer to store my forest demon on, or, I could delete some shit. Some of you might be saying out loud, "well, why doesn't she just get one of those external USB drives to store the forest demon on?" Because I did that, A LOT, and I have three of them full to the brim with my self-important shit and 2 out of the three are busted and will cost more than my car's blue book value to get fixed. AND AND AND... the one I GOT fixed was stolen out of my car on the very night I got it back.  So that's why. Got it? Good. Moving along...

This philosophical sage that lives in part of my head began to really analyze the societal implications to our culture by hoarding experiences. Here's why it's a perfect word to describe what we are doing as a society...

Hoarders start off by liking something. They start liking.
Here's an example-
You know those nice ass brown paper bags with the handles on them? It begins by thinking, "I find these nice ass bags useful and I'd like to make sure I always have this useful tool in my life." There might have been one or two times when the bag's handle broke while they were taking their lunch into work. They get angry because the nice ass free bag let them down. Then they think, "I'll have to always make sure I use TWO of them just in case." Someone else gives them one of those REALLY nice ass reusable bags one day and says, "Hey Scottie, looky here! Here's a better version of what you have! You want one? I have several." Scottie agrees and then thinks, "I find these bad ass reusable bags pretty useful! I still like my old brown paper bags with the handle on them though? Well, I guess you can't have enough bags in your life because you'll always need to put your shit into something, right?" 
Before you know it, they have acquired a monumental amount of bullshit just because they had the bags to put it in. It all becomes "useful" and then it avalanches into the dirty swamp of the forest demon who tells them that it's all real real real important...And that's when then the City of Dallas comes and kicks you, your suffocated dog, and your wife with stage 5 smokers lung and an empty O2 tank, out of the house, deeming the house "hazardous," and NOW all you want is like one or eight of those paper bags out of there.  Maybe like five of them...

Let's replace "bags" with "devices"  and "house" with "social networking site" in the story above and you'll get my point... the dog is still your dog and your lungy wife with no oxygen is still exactly that... in that story I mean.

Saying all of that, I MUST say this...
I'm not one of those people who say, "I just wish all this internet stuff would just go away. I just hate all of it. I just really do. I just think I will keep my 1999 flip phone because it's a phone and if you won't talk to me on the phone then we aren't friends and I'm old and I'm fucking old and I want things to never change and that's why I never had any balls to get out of my bad marriage or quit the job that makes me have reoccurring nightmares about dying in a swivel chair...No, no sir. I want to stay the fucking same. I like same. I hate change. I believe in America and support the troops and if you can't just call me instead of texting me then I just don't have to have friends I guess... I'm fucking old fashioned I guess, call me old fuckin' fashioned, that's me, I guess I'm just ROOTED IN THE SOIL OF MEDIOCRACY."  Yes you are.

So I'm not that, that's my point.

I think there's a real happy middle ground between old dehydrated dreams- afraid of change- whiny- bitchy- negative- technologically on-purpose retarded person Compared To... hipster with scoliosis from looking down all the time "uploading amazing experiences" asshole... there's a fuckin' middle. I'm that middle. I will be the Middle's Mascot. Put me in a fuckin' oreo costume with an arrow pointing to the icing part, saying "Melodee is this part, the middle."

The question is- Is social media a good thing?
Here's the deal... Yes. Yes it is. I know the bad shit is what everyone is building their case study out of, but let me give you an example of how it's good...

In the Kenya mall attacks recently, the ONLY reason anyone lived in that ordeal was because of texting and tweeting. The phone people who called up 911 and had to  TALK to someone, were capped in the fuckin' head. Not a ninja move if you're HIDING from masked gunmen with automatic baller ass guns and an agenda to murder the capitalistic pigs who shop in malls. (their words, not mine) I heard an interview with the head of the Red Cross in that area and he said that there would've been no way they would've been prepared for that level of emergency response deployment if TWITTER feed had not been streaming in from within the kill zone. It was as he said, "the most efficient means of communication at that time."

Another example I'll give is of a global value.... Fifteen years ago people thought of anyone outside of the US and UK as being like fuckin' neanderthals with no culture beatin' on cave walls and cookin' up chicken feet. The kind of power that the world of social networking is creating, has/is uniting the world in more ways than it could possibly divide us. Nobody would be shocked, even in rural parts of West Virginia(dig), to see someone "dressed diffrnt" or "havin' opinions about gays and Jews," or whatever else...  We have a new problem we've created which is "cyber bullying" but that's just hilarious to me because I remember "sticks and stones....."

Here's the whole tired truth of where we are, in my stupid ass opinion, as a society present day...

Historically speaking, any great invention that changes the way in which we conduct daily life has always been met with 2 types of reactions. The first group being an outpouring of energy and excitement which only adds to the advancement of 'said' invention. The second group being the fear of invention overtaking what is established in society as being "good enough".

The  first group get's a bit overzealous in the beginning of that invention and changes the usage and function of it with lightning speed thus propelling the invention and daily life into such rapid social transitioning that it gives the appearance, in that whirlwind of momentum, as being the very undoing of culture as we know it. Tower of Babel type thinking.  And lo, I do love a great conspiracy theory or doomsday prediction, but fuckin' FACEBOOK and TWITTER aren't ever going to be bad ass enough to make God himself destroy it with a thunderous roar of angelic warriors charging toward the..... It's fuckin' Facebook, I mean come on.

Look at the invention of radio. Families were rushing out to buy radios and gathering around them instead of the dinner table and listening to stories being acted out and songs being performed and comedians doing their 5 minutes, etc...  There was a backlash of social/religious/political leaders saying that radio was "replacing family time at the dinner table and corrupting moral values," and "women were going to stop cooking and the family unit was going to turn into a new babylon of sin and mayhem."

  WE WOULDN'T HAVE WON THE WAR WITHOUT RADIO. Radio was THE thing that united people. It created movements by being a platform of which information could be shared en masse.  This tool, "the radio" could be used to gather up civilians to help with the war effort ...or it could be used to brainwash an entire nation into thinking Hitler had some good ideas. And there's that dark side again damn it.

Humans create. We create new things to make the old things work better. Humans become fascinated with their creations and exploit them. They eventually reel it in to a rational and practical application of that invention and then everyone will think that invention is perfectly acceptable... and that is exactly when some new smart game-changer will try to make it better....

Rinse and repeat until the end of time.

Enjoy life... even your fake one on Facebook. Please be aware though that it is fake. It's fake. You ARE NOT having that much fun and you are making other people depressed because they envy your life and if they only knew that nobody actually gave three shits that you were there, they'd probably not stay at home and eat an entire 23 gallon trough of pizza rolls... which is contributing to obesity in this country and making my grocery store shopping difficult because of so many fucking fat people in electric carts blocking out the aisle and talking about how fucking tired they are... STOP EATING!  But seriously... keep it kind of real once in a while.  Trust me, it feels great. You might even be called a 'cyber bully,' but if someone calls you that, you can prove that you are in fact a REAL bully by getting their address and kicking their ass.

Enjoy invention, even the ones you don't fully understand yet...Like that As Seen on TV pillow thing with the lights in it...how do you even sleep with that on? See there... I don't understand the luminescent pillow but I also know that it exists and respect that some people may want a rave blasting in their face all night long. You know?

But don't forget that humanity was involved in the creation of all of this shit.
So wake up, look around, make eye contact with the people you are tweeting about, and stop hoarding the experience. It can't be an experience if you aren't actually experiencing it.

If you start having out-of-the-phone experiences, you won't have to hoard it.
Your brain will hoard it for you and the playback gets better with time.

The Best and Worst Things My Grandma Taught Me... this one is a goody.

My Grandmother, Ida Willie Belle, was born in 11/11/1911. She grew up pulling cotton with her 9 other siblings in far west Texas. She went by the nickname Tiny and she was the rowdiest of all her siblings... and the smallest.
She used to tell me that she would routinely pass out for no good reason, but "figur'd it wuz cuz uh that time when I hit my head real hard walkin' a barrel."
To date, she's the best guitarist I've ever heard. She died over 10  years ago on Elvis Presley's birthday(January 8th)...which I'm sure she planned on because Elvis was kind of a big deal in my house growing up.

In fact, I really believed he was a relative until I was old enough to figure out that my family were just kind of nutty about the man and recalled his death as "the most gaht dam saddest day ever."

My Grandmother was not your typical old lady. She drove a mint condition 1967 cherry red Pontiac Firebird with a vintage decal that said, "Cherry Bomb." She would regularly do what she said was "blowin' the soot out'th'firebird." Which meant: She would drive this bad ass car about 90+ mph until she heard it "whistle." Then she'd say she had "blown the soot out." Now, at 35 years old, I know that was total bullsh*t.
On a few occasions, I would go on these "soot blowing procedures" and I found it to be absolutely terrifying and thrilling all wrapped up into one loud "AHHHHHH," fist clinching, body pressing to the back of the black leather seat with one-eye open, experience.

As a kid, she convinced me that this had to be done and so I would naturally believe I was "helping" by assisting her in listening for the "whistling" sound at MACH 5.

Another fascinating skill that my my grandmother demonstrated regularly was the "docterin' of animals." She had various vermin she'd take in to "doctor up" so that they'd be alright, etc... At one point I can remember her having 3 snapping turtles in the bathtub that she was administering some type of skin care to. They had names.

There was Haus, Raus, and Big Joe. She found these turtles somewhere on one of her "soot blowing" excursions and figured "they got be somethin' wrong with 'em cause a snappin' turtle ain't gonna be out in the middle of no street like 'at." She was right, but... it's a snapping turtle... no THREE snapping turtles. THREE.

I remember her puttin' Camphophenique and Iodine on their "bad places," (areas with disease) and I heard her yelp really loud and say, "Welp, o' Haus got me in the meat of my fanger, right 'cher, look. at. that. Woooooo, My word that hurts."

This snapping turtle bit a chunk out of her finger that should've required an Emergency Response Team, but instead, she threaded a needle and gave herself some stitches while talking to that turtle like this..."Naw Haus, now why'd you go n' bite on me like that when I's just tryin' to make you better. I guess you feelin' better naw ain't cha'."

She got these turtles up to par and released them back into the wild in a few weeks... long enough for her to find more things half dead to drag into the "operating room."

She had a cat named Foo. (it's already funny) Foo wasn't a flippin' cat though. Foo was part bobcat and was mean as hell. My grandma had "rescued" Foo from a trap out by our scary ass cabin in the woods- where we would go fishing in the cooler months of the year.

Foo lived in the house when it wanted to, and the rest of the time it lived in dark places with shadow demons.  Well, Foo got hold of my cousin's goldfish and bit a hole through it. My grandmother didn't give up the quest of "doctorin'" so she put her usual concoction of Camphor and Iodine and "dobbed in on the bad place."

She stuck a tiny part of an aloe vera plant inside the hole of the goldfish. The hole, by the way, was right in the middle of the fish. After about 4 days, the she cleaned the hole out again and that fish lived 5 more years. You could see right through it. No really, you could actually see through the fish! Foo was given a nasty talkin' to and was told "that fish ain't fer you Foo."  Foo killed a lot of things that couldn't be fixed though.

There are at least 13 other animal stories off the top of my head I could write out in this blog but I'll save those for later. Rest assured though, there were a lot of animals that got the "doctorin'." The most bizarre thing about all of these animals is that they would live a ridiculously long amount of time. WAY past the legal limit of most pets. Some of them were still alive by the time she died but they all passed on within days of her death. I think they all made a pact with Foo's shadow demon friends or something to go back to the netherworld... or as I call it- the crawl space under the house.

The story that defines the title of this blog is this one and the last story in this blog.. they are connected though. So bear with me and stay entertained. There's a great ending, promise...


My grandma would always tell me the bible verse about being kind to those less fortunate because "they could be angels among ya' unawares." I took a lot of things she said way too far. I was that kid that believed that every grown up was 100% right all the time, and I was 100% wrong for having a "gut feeling" about something.

Terrible really, but I was kind of stupid. Or still am... jury is still out on that.

I really believed her when she told me about the angel thing...

I was desperate to meet an angel and I was sort of obsessed with the thought that I might be able to meet one if I was super nice to the bums and wine-os at the Stop n' Go down the street. In retrospect, I think I actually believed that if some bum asked me for money, and I gave it to him,(but it was really an angel in disguise) that some type of confetti from heaven would fall down and a voice over (Bob Barker style) would say, "Congratulations Melodee! You passed the test! This isn't a drug addict loser with crabs, this is ARCH ANGEL MICHAEL!!!!"

Then I would imagine Michael the Archangel saying, "hey kid, sorry bout that, here's your 5 bucks back(I was generous) and all of us angels are super stoked about you, and so... we were wondering if you'd like to meet the whole team?!"  Sort of like a backstage pass to meet the ultimate superheros only way more kick ass.

So I explained to my grandma how I'd just given 5 bucks to some homeless guy when I went to buy her bread and milk and that it "wasn't an angel," because he took my money and obviously "angels don't need your bread and milk money do they Granny?" She would kind of walk away and get real quiet before she'd come back and say, "I'm going to blow the soot out of the Firebird."

She never told me anything different to do with the next round of bread and milk money, but she would say, "that man at the Stop n' Go ain't that angel your a' lookin' for. He ain't Meldee, he just a good fer nothin' drunkard and don't be talkin' to him no more, he ain't got a lick uh'sense left."

 So... Okay, cool... not that guy. Got it. Got it?

To this very day, her voice haunts me when I see homeless people/bums/wine-os anywhere in Dallas who ask me for money.

 I think "well, the second I don't give some of my change, it will probably be that angel or something..."  The other day however, I was thinking that and started laughing to myself as I thought, "Mel, if it was an angel, do you really still think he's going to say he is one?"
 (Angel says: Congrats I'm an angel, gotcha! Wow, you really fell for the ol' bum on the side of the I-35 & Medical District Drive trick? I'm an angel and you're an idiot for rolling down your window and giving me my booze money you dope!)

Then it hit me! Not the angel, but the thought hit me...

"I really have been expecting this for 30+ years?"  This got me thinking about all the other things I learned from Ida Willie Belle and somehow survived...  the list was 7 pages long.

Don't get me wrong, she had great advice most of the time. However, the advice she gave would be deemed nowadays as being terribly misguided and moderately dangerous to the average person.

However, saying that I'll say this....
I've never been afraid of anything. I'm not afraid to be in a "bad part of town," or to talk to people who don't look like me, or to help someone or an animal that looks distraught, sick, in trouble, etc... Maybe I'm still stupid, but I think there's some valuable sauce in that pot of advice she fed me.

Here's how I know that's true...
This story is the best one I've got in my bag.

My grandma had an open door policy. Neighborhood kids and everyone in the free world could come over at any time and open the fridge and eat anything in it. Little did I know as a kid that she was feeding all of us on a combined monthly income from my Grandfather and her's social security checks which totaled about 1000 bucks a month. My Grandfather was a veteran in WW2 and worked his whole life as an electrician for Phillips 66 and this is what they had to "retire on."  However, none of us kids knew anything about that. They never behaved like they were put out, or tired of helping people, or irritated by raising other people's kids. Every single day was a party.  Her relaxation came from rescuing animals, playing guitar in the living room, and "blowing the soot out" of that Pontiac Firebird. We couldn't afford to go to the beach one summer and she bought a 50 lbs. bag of navy beans and poured them on the floor so we could play as though it were sand... it was fantastic. Better than the beach in fact! (my Grandfather played the part of the Salt Water Crocodile that hunted us if we got too buried in the "sand." So much squealing and laughing... so much)  Anyway...

Here is THE story...
One day a man came into the house with the intent to rob us. (my grandfather wasn't there at the time for the record, and this story would've had a much different outcome if he had've been there)

He had a mask on, had a gun, and busted through the door saying, "Get down bitch, where is your purse, where's your F**KING purse bitch."

My grandmother literally didn't flinch.

She looked at him in the eyes and she said, "You outta be ashamed of yourself talkin' to a woman that way. Now listen here. I ain't gonna be talked to that way in my house. I'm gonna give you all I got but you gotta sit down here and eat breakfast with me first."

This man's face was white as a ghost. He trembled and said, "are you crazy or somethin,  I ain't gonna sit down here while you call the cops on me, shit, shit, hell no..."

She replied with, "I ain't gonna call the cops on you young man. I am just askin' you kindly if you will sit down and eat breakfast with me. You interrupted my breakfast and I'm just hungry is'all and I want to talk with you."

I was listening in on the conversation from the hallway by the kitchen and what I heard was nothing short of a miracle. My grandmother disarmed this man with words and truthful ones. She told him that he doesn't have to take the road he's on and that she would give him all her money, but if he decides to take another road, a better road, later on... "to kindly pay me back when you get set straight."

They finished breakfast, she handed him all the cash she had in her wallet, wrote him a check for 200 bucks, and told him she'd "talk to an angel or two" on his behalf.

Little did I know, until her death, that this man kept up with her and wrote her letters and sent her pictures of his life, loves, and now a family, etc... He walked up to me at her funeral and said, "You will probably remember me in a not so good way,  but I was the man who robbed your grandmother when you were just a little girl. She's been a great friend since that day and just so you know, I paid her back with interest."

 He continued to tell me that she was the reason, the ONLY reason he changed his life around. He was honest about how it wasn't overnight either. It took several years of trial and error and trouble before he got off drugs and began a new life... He did tell me though, that when he would ask her in his darker days and moments of guilt and shame as to why she was being kind to him or cared at all, she said, "sometimes you entertain angels unaware."

Good night Ida Willie Belle and I hope they let you blow the soot out up there... oh and don't pose as a bum on I-35 either because I'm not rolling down my window anymore.

The Narcissistic Bunny & Friends!

The blog is derived and dedicated to clarifying for myself and for everyone out there how to deal with a narcissist. The people, places, and events in the story have been changed to the world of bunnies. I will represent one of the bunny's in this story but that's all the help you get in determining the meaning of this blog. However, all stories are true and some have actually happened. I'll let you decide that for yourself. On with the story of...

Piddley Shitz the Narcissistic Bunny... and Friends! 

On Bunny Hill, a patch of land in Southwest Dallas, a bunny named Piddley Shitz and his girlfriend Skreamy Fitz were preparing for a summer carrot harvest. Piddley Shitz brought one of his litter with him, his name was Tiddely Bitz Shitz.

The summer carrot harvest was touted by Piddley Shitz as being the best one in the land and if he could only work that harvest, he would have enough carrots to be happy for the whole year. Skreamy Fitz agreed and was extremely interested in going along for the ride so that she could reap the reward for the carrot harvest and have enough bounty to justify watching "Real Housebunnies of Bunny Hill." Her favorite show!

Tiddley Bitz Shitz had a special bunny friend named Showboater Brown. Showboater Brown had light golden fur and a cute brown nose. Showboater Brown told Tiddley Bitz Shitz that she would visit him and his family during the summer carrot harvest on Bunny Hill. She was so excited to come and enjoy the festivities of the harvest and was so looking forward to meeting other bunnies who she had heard wonderful things about as well as some bunnies she knew from the Greatest Spinach Harvest on Earth a few years ago. Life seemed good for Tiddley Bitz Shitz. "This was going to be a great decision afterall," thought Tiddley Bitz Shitz.

Tiddley Bitz Shitz had forgotten that his father, Piddley Shitz, was a special breed of bunny called a Narcissist Rabbit and that Piddley's girlfriend, Skreamy Fitz was also classified as one as well but from a different region. Tiddley Bitz Shitz had not worked a carrot harvest with his father in a few years and in those years, Tiddley Bitz had grown and changed and accomplished much. In fact, Tiddley had also worked The Greatest Spinach Harvest on Earth for a short time which is how he met his friend, Showboater Brown!

Tiddley was so happy to share his stories with his father and celebrate his success with him until he started working the carrot harvest. Tiddley Bitz started to realize that he was only getting very few carrots and he rationalized that it was okay because he was at least getting to spend time with his father, Piddley.

After a few months of working the carrot harvest, Tiddley began to see that his father, Piddley was different indeed! "My o' my how different he is, and a bit of a mean bunny too," Tiddley Bitz thought to himself each night. "It will get better, my father must just be stressed out," Tiddley Bitz would say to Showboater Brown every day on their bunny phones. Showboater Brown would always encourage Tiddley Bitz to "hang in there," and "think positively about your father, he loves you!"  So, Tiddley Bitz would, and another day of swallowed intuition would fester in his bunny tummy.

"It's that time!," said Showboater Brown, who was coming to visit the carrot harvest that week. Both Tiddley Bitz and Showboater Brown were so excited to have fun in the sun and eat some delicious carrots with everyone. Showboater Brown was looking forward to sharing her adventurous stories and journeys of bunny life with Tiddley Bitz' family so they could get to know each other and bond over the love of the carrot harvest.

Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz had other plans...
(enter overlay of suspenseful music)

Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz had a dirty bunny secret in their dirty bunny brains. They don't like it when other bunnies share in their carrot harvest or tell their bunny tales of origin and adventure. They don't care for any other bunny except the bunny they see when they look in their bunny mirror. They want to tear down anything good that doesn't have something to do with themselves. What bunny would be so mean? A Narcissist Rabbit.

For those of you who don't know about the Narcissist Rabbit breed, in attempts to make this retarded story make sense, I'll educate you.

A Narcissist Rabbit lacks any other perspective but their own. They don't think that the other bunnies are as smart and savvy as they are. These nasty little rabbits don't like anything that isn't praise directed back to them. This breed also loves to argue and typically never knows much about what they are arguing about but other bunnies can't win the argument because the Narcissist Rabbit will resort to terrible bunny name calling and tactics that will annihilate the poor bunny that decided to have an normal conversation with them.

However, even though the Narcissist Rabbit thinks they are in control of every bunny in the world, and are the best bunny in the world, deeeeeeeeeep down in their bunny hearts they REALLY are tiny insecure self-loathing baby bunnies.  The Narcissist Rabbit will make a regular bunny feel as though they are not worth the poop on the ground because they (the Narcissist Rabbits) have unrealistic expectations for others and when those expectations aren't met, the mean ol' Narcissist Rabbit gets to blame the other bunny for their own failed attempts at success.

The Narcissist Rabbit doesn't view success in the same way a normal or successful bunny does. The Narcissist Rabbit will never be happy no matter how much success or control they have because again, they really, really, really, really hate themselves and need constant reassurance, support, praise, and affirmation that they are the BEST NARCISSIST RABBIT in the WORRRRRRLD.

Now, back to the story of the carrot harvest...

Tiddley Bitz Shitz and Showboater Brown were having a grand time at the carrot harvest. Why even some new bunny friends came over to join in on the fun! These new bunny friends had never enjoyed being in the company of Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz because they never were able to do what normal bunnies do and SHARE THEIR OWN STORIES IN A REASONABLE GIVE AND TAKE CONVERSATIONAL WAY. (throat clearing... sorry)

Showboater Brown is an enthusiastic bunny that loves to talk to people and get to know other bunnies because she genuinely loves other bunnies and wants to make sure that they know that she's grateful for being invited to watch the carrot harvest.
She even helps out when she can by lending her paw to Tiddley Bitz' family or chipping in on treats and documenting the harvest with a video camera so that Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz have a way of seeing their hard work in action!
But... Showboater Brown starts to get a stinky feeling in her bunny tummy about Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz's whole messed up vibe.

She never lets it get her down though and she continues to be accommodating and kind. Showboater Brown likes to follow the rules when she's visiting a carrot harvest. At each carrot harvest you have to make sure you wear your special visitors pass so that you can come and go, in and out of the harvest. The bunnies in charge of the harvest told her to "not lose that pass because you'll have to give it back at the end of the harvest visit." Showboater Brown took the boss bunny's advice and wore the badge each time she left the harvest to make sure she didn't lose it in her disheveled bunny bag.

Piddley Shitz saw Showboater Brown wearing her carrot harvest visitor's pass and made a bold and unreasonable opinion about it. Piddley Shitz gathered that Showboater Brown must be "showboating" and "brown nosing" by fraternizing with the carrot harvest workers and wearing her badge one time to a sushi bar. Piddley Shitz held fast to this mean unreasonable and false opinion of Showboater Brown until just the "right time."  The "right time" being when his mean unreasonable and false opinions of Showboater Brown could be used as a verbal warfare in an unrelated mean and unreasonable fight with his son, Tiddley Bitz.

He did just that.

After Showboater Brown helped clean up the carrot harvest final day and left to go back to her bunny home, Piddley and Tiddley Shitz left Bunny Hill to go to another carrot harvest. What happened to Skreamy Fitz you ask? She had to briefly leave the harvest because her daughter was having a litter of her own but she would be back, just as all the Fitz do... they always come right back.

One day at the new harvest, Tiddley Bitz was scoopin' up field mice and boppin' 'em on the head when he realized that Skreamy Fitz was mad as hell because he hadn't realized she was standing at the door waiting for him to say "Hello Skreamy Fitz, how's the new litter?"

Of course Tiddley Bitz was going to say hello that day and ask about the new litter but with the Narcissist Rabbit breed, everything must be done at the exact moment that they want it. If it's not, you have failed them and thus, failed at life as a bunny. Later that day, Tiddley Bitz was once again, pickin' up field mice and boppin' 'em on the head, when his father, Piddley Shitz, decided to have a talk with him.

Piddley Shitz had quite a talk indeed!

 Piddley Shitz made a mean ol' judgment call and told his son, Tiddley Bitz Shitz, that he was a terrible opportunistic, selfish, arrogant, and full of shitz bunny! Piddley Shitz had held on to moments in Tiddley's young life to use as a real-time barometer for his failure and suckdom life as an adult bunny.

What Piddley Shitz didn't like at all was that Tiddley Bitz is a much stronger bunny on the inside than Piddley is- because Tiddley doesn't say terrible mean ol' things back.

In fact, Tiddley doesn't say anything much at all! Tiddley knows that if he tries to defend himself, he will be caught in a briar patch trap set by his very own father, Piddley!

Shame, Shame, Shame on Piddley Shitz for the next part of this story....

When Piddley didn't get the reaction he wanted from Tiddley Bitz which probably he wanted something like, "You're right, your always right, your so right, I'm a big ol' poopy stinky bunny and you are an awesome powerful right bunny," well, ol' Piddley got pretty poopy after that.

Piddley had to hurt Tiddley Bitz even more by discrediting everything about his best friend Showboater Brown.

Now you may be askin' yourself how Showboater Brown has anything to do with this fight between Piddley Shitz and Tiddley Bitz, right? Welp, ol' Showboater Brown doesn't have anything to do with it in normal bunny logic, but she had to remember that she was dealing with a very special breed of Narcissist Rabbits who are crazy mean ol' bunnies by nature.

 Piddley Shitz said some really mean, unreasonable, and flat out retarded stuff about Showboater Brown. He thought ol' Showboater Brown was only talking to the other bunnies at the harvest because she was "sellin' his special carrot harvest technique." Just like Tiddley, he even said that Showboater Brown was full of shitz too!

All that mean ol' stuff to Tiddley Bitz , was like rollin' in briar patch thorns and he became real upset, rightfully so. His little bunny heart was broken into pieces. This made Showboater Brown really angry... which is hard to do because she is a peaceful breed of bunny ordinarily.

Now, Showboater Brown wanted me to write this blog so that there could be a little peace in her mind at night knowing that she told the tale of how the Narcissist Rabbits are, so that other kind natured bunnies of the world would be aware that this nasty terrible breed exists. They are rare, but they do exist, and they are the reason why "we can't have nice things."

Showboater Brown had to say a prayer and talk to a shrink friend of hers to understand the Narcissist Rabbits. She did pray for Tiddley Bitz to have inner strength to continue with the rest of the carrot harvests in the land, and to know that he is more of a special bunny than Piddley Shitz or Skreamy Fitz could ever know.

Piddley Shitz and Skreamy Fitz don't deserve to know the extra special bunny things about Tiddley Bitz or Showboater Brown. Those special things that are gifts from God above should never be subjected to ridicule and mockery by the false bunny gods below. One day those Narcissist Rabbits won't be invited to work a carrot harvest, or a spinach harvest, or even to break bread with other bunnies because they forgot to be grateful, kind, to listen, to care, and to take the time to understand the world around them through a different perspective... the perspective that isn't reflecting back at them when they look in their bunny mirrors.


*if the person(s) not mentioned by name in this blog know who they are when they read this, there is hope for them. But sadly, I don't believe they would find anything interesting or of value that someone else wrote.... So.... hope everyone else enjoyed this ridiculous metaphorical story as much as I enjoyed writing it and venting it.

I'm Peter Pan, Deal With It!

I'm 34 years old and happy about it.
I've never felt better in my life than I do right now.

That's my preface to this blog. Something happens to women in their 30's that has not happened to me and I know it won't happen any time soon, if at all.
A new thing has started to occur in my life that makes me turn into a green rage monster and split my pants. Here it is....

At least 3 times a week or more, some woman over 30 years old has to tell me that my time to have children is running out. Here's the deal, these women never know my age until I tell them. The subject is never brought up until I say "I'll be 35 in June." Then the vagina monologue starts... "Oh I would have never guessed that you were in your 30's. So are you concerned that you aren't married and don't have children? Children will complete your life, and you will be really sorry if you don't start considering this for your life. Are you afraid of commitment? Are you afraid to love?"
 What I want to say to these nosey noo noo's is this....
Are you concerned that you have no other thoughts in your head except your husband and children's schedule? Are you happy with your lack of self worth so you rely on your children's love to fill the void? Do you have any regret that you married someone you barely like just because you needed to have children so someone would love you?  The women who have come to me and taken it upon themselves to tell me how my woman parts are turning to dust soon are all miserable skin sacks. Their own kids find them uninteresting and I doubt their henpecked husband's have seen their own balls in 10 years.


After I emphatically say "No, I'm not concerned in the least," I get a speech about how my eggs are probably dying out and if I don't start thinking about having children, it will be too late.  Let me explain something...

When other little girls growing up would play "house," I was in a dirty ditch outside playing "sniper ambush" and shooting a BB gun at my brother on his bike or looking for dinosaur bones. My parents would buy me dolls for my birthday and you know what I'd end up doing with those dolls? Stringing them up by their necks or duct taping them to the see-saw outside as POW's. Not much has changed from that time to now, mentally speaking.

I'm great with kids but I don't need them to come out of my body to feel that I have a connection with life. Kids love me because they know I'm not covered up with grown up concerns. I don't care if I have a good credit score so I can buy a house one day, I don't care about saving money for a day when I'm too old to enjoy it, I don't care about wearing a wedding dress and playing princess to the tune of thousands of dollars... and if all of my eggs turn to dust and I can't spawn, it matters not. If I really wanted kids one day, I'd adopt them. Being an adopted kid myself, I think I'd be more likely candidate for that route anyway.

If you are a guy out there reading this, then I just want you to know how lucky you are to be one. Your dude friends won't ever tell you that you'd better have kids soon or your penis will drop off and slither away into the night. You'll never hear any dude tell you "aren't you concerned you aren't married?" If a guy says that to another guy, it's because he wants his friend to settle so they can hang out more and the wife won't get upset.

I'm not saying that marriage isn't great or that children aren't great. I just believe that a lot of people get married because of a kind of nervousness about being alone. So they settle on the first reasonable person who will marry them for the same reason.
These are the same people who will spend thousands on a wedding because it's the last big show in the "highlight reel" of their lives. I guess they figure they'd better make it super awesome so people won't dare think they are deep down unsure about the decision.

Anyway, I digress.

I named this blog "I'm Peter Pan, Deal With It," for a reason. I believe that the older people get, the more they forget what living is all about. It's an illusion- this "adult" thing. The core of our soul wants to have unlimited joy every day. We forget to play, to dream, to drive a different route home because "hey why not?" So what if you get lost for 10 minutes finding another route home? It's the seeking and finding and discovering that can be such a fun process. Remember when you were a kid and you couldn't wait to be grown up because nobody would tell you what to do?

It's that ironic poetry? Who would have thought that the most critical and strict parent in your life would be YOU?  We all wanted to grow up to "do what we wanted."
How many of us actually do anything we want to do? You live by the clock, you live by other people's schedules for you, you hear your own inner critic telling you that you are too old, too fat, too rusty, too busy... too dead.

My favorite story is "Peter Pan." I love the courage of Peter Pan. I love how he understands the adult world but gives it no place in his adventure of spirit. He watches his friends get older, covered up, and they no longer remember the shared adventures as real but instead those memories are "just silly stories they thought up when they were a kid." Meanwhile, Peter Pan hasn't aged physically and tries to reinstall the belief in the extraordinary to his true love/friend Wendy. He knows that if he can change her mind, gear it for the magnificent journey of life in the knick of time right before she "grows up and does what she's supposed to," she'll be saved from the miserable lackluster adult world.
There's no point to waking up each day if you aren't going to live according to that spark of light that lives within you. There's no nobility in being a servant of the world's demands. You can still get the mundane details of your life accomplished without BEING mundane yourself.

I know I sound preachy in this but it's because all of the naysayers that tell me "my time is running out," ...they have already run out of time for the real adventures of life. They would be lucky to experience even one major shake-up of their priorities that potentially could get their head back into the game. I write this blog to say that I am happy to be irresponsible with my time, elated to still feel that I have ample time to achieve my greatest goals, and if it takes me until I'm 90 years old to do it all... then I guess that would be the definition of a full life.

Anyway... Last thing I'll say is this:

Don't forget to believe in fairies, fight Captain Hook with one arm tied behind your back, and please, for the sake of  your soul don't ever grow up.

How the Movie, "Friday" is a Perfect Lesson Today

One of my favorite films is, "Friday," starring Ice Cube and Chris Tucker. It perfectly captures the kind of neighborhood I grew up in with my grandparents. Today everyone is focused on stopping "bullies" and on gun "control" and and and...
The news is filled with stories like, "A single mother of 3 is afraid of her children being victimized by bullies..." or "Little Christopher, 7, is scared to go back to school after a bully knocked him off of his bike..." or "People are outraged by how guns are killing their children..."

Here's the thing.
Guns aren't killing your kids. Mental illness, fear, and the age of isolation is the culprit. The guns are the method of how these people get their aggression out but the real blame goes to each and every one of us. In this age of multi-media, social networks, and "virtual" everything, we've become so disconnected to reality. How many of you know who your neighbors are? No, really think about it. Get a piece of paper and write down the names, occupations, and general feeling about the people who live around you. If I died today in my house  alone, nobody from the street I live on would have any idea for weeks. You know who would know? People who I connect with on Facebook who live all over the world would be more likely to wonder where I am or why I haven't posted some stupid update about "how I'm feeling today."

I am careful about how I word this blog because the subject matter is very sensitive and I certainly don't want to come across like an old man who says things like, "back in my day there was no goddern interwebs and if'n you get bullied, then shame on you for not kickin' their ass sooner."

However, saying that I can now go into the meat of what I'm trying to get across...

Being a super fat, dorky, socially awkward, lispy kid- I was the target of every bad ass bully in the school. I went to a terrible private school until 8th grade named, Dallas CHRISTIAN School. (yeah I said it, so what) I was enrolled in this school because my mother FEARED that I would be treated differently if I had've been in regular ol' public school. She worried about this because of her own insecurity and irrational fears having something to do with me being her adopted child.  In her rampant fear of my safety (really her mental safety), she quite literally manifested for me, every "afterschool special," scenario worthy of the Lifetime channel.

At 11 years old, I ran away and took my brother with me. We lived from that point on with my grandparents(RIP, they were the greatest people in the world) in a neighborhood that would be classified as "ghetto." My grandmother never locked her doors. The front and back door of the house were usually propped open with a brick or something so that the neighborhood, if they wanted to, could come over for a visit or for some of her delicious chocolate cake and a scoop of Blue Bell Ice Cream. The house was usually filled with so many people of various races, religious beliefs, and backgrounds... it was like a Colours of Benetton advert.

My grandfather, a war hero who was on the torpedoed USS Hornet during World War II, wasn't afraid of anything. He was 5'6 inches tall and about 125 pounds. He would spar with the neighborhood teenagers, most of them black guys about 6'0 tall and 200 pounds, and he would teach them in the backyard how to defend themselves.  He would always say, "listen, if someone is pushing you around, don't reach for a knife or y'daddy's gun, just knock 'em in the jaw and kick their ass like a man."  These lessons weren't just for the neighborhood guys, they were also for the girls too. I learned how to defend myself physically because my Pop(grandfather) said, "Booger(me), women have come way to far in this world to lay down and let some creep make 'em into a court case."

If you haven't seen the movie, "Friday," I suggest you find it and watch it. It's hilarious, full of characters that are more relatable today then they were when the movie premiered. There's a speech given by the actor John Witherspoon, who plays the crabby put-out father of Ice Cube(Craig) when Craig accidentally gets in too deep with a situation involving a drug dealer named, Big Worm.

 Although this movie is one of the funniest films I've ever seen, it's depth wasn't truly understood at the time it was made when the gang wars were ruining once-peaceful neighborhoods in places like Oakland and Compton. It was brilliant timing on the part of Ice Cube to take a risk against his "hard core" reputation to write a film like, "Friday."  The speech given by the father in the show is exactly what everyone needs to teach their kids during this time of school shootings and the irrational overblown fear of "bullies." Remember, "as we thinketh, so are we." What we fear the most will come to our doorstep. By fearing the "what might happen" as though it will happen, we give all of our power and energy to the ones who crave it the most for their attention-getting destructive outbursts.

Here is the scene from the movie "Friday"...I think this says it all:

[Craig's father catches him with a handgun]

Mr. Jones: What's that for?

Craig: Protection.

Mr. Jones: Protection from who?

Craig: Me and Smokey...I've got to walk Smokey down to his house.

Mr. Jones: Aw, man. Your mother and I never would've moved to this neighborhood if we'd known you need a gun to walk down the damn street.

Craig: You know how it is 'round here.

Mr. Jones: Oh, no, son. That's not the way it is. You kids have been nothin' but punks. Sissified. So quick to pick up a gun. Too scared to take an ass-whipping. [raises his fists] This is what makes you a man. When I was growing up, this was all the protection we needed. You win some, you lose some. But you live. You live to fight another day. Now you think you're a man with that gun in your hand, don't you?

Craig: I'm a man without it.

Mr. Jones: Put the gun down.

[Craig complies]

Mr. Jones: C'mon, put up your dukes.

[Craig raises his fists]

Mr. Jones: Now you're a man. Your uncle picked up a gun, too. He found out the hard way. 22 years old. You've got a choice.(holding fists up) This is all you need, alright?

In closing... 

We have a responsibility, all of us. If you don't think that you affect everyone around you, you are mistaken.  We need to start paying attention. There is no healing, no solution worth holding on to, no progress for the human condition if we persist in burying our heads in the virtual kingdoms we've placed in the highest of priorities. These forums can be a gift if we use them as such, OR they can be the harbinger of fear, the temptress of lies, and the god of a half-lived existence. 

I could argue about how automatic weapons should be banned from civilian use, but that's not going to fix the civilians who use them for the shocking attention getting terrorizing displays of violence. It takes a village to raise a child and there's not many real villages left to do the raising anymore. We have to care enough to know each other. Every great movement of change started with an individual person who was unrelenting in their desire to see something come to fruition. Likewise, every terrible act was the product of an individual or the select few who follow them because of their unrelenting desire to see something evil come to fruition. 

It's a fair game folks. There is no more power in the "bad guys" conviction, than there could be in ours. I just think we, as a collective and as individuals, are relying on "someone else to do the job."  Ex.  "The government needs to do such and such...."  As though a piece of paper signed by a bunch of men in suits, sitting in desks in Washington, D.C.  is really going to prevent the individual from pursuing an act of great terror? Or worse...Blaming the government/employers/faceless suits of power for preventing us from living the life we haven't had the balls to live. I will go so far as to say we've become afraid to commit great acts of valor and courage because we might "get sued" or "that's not my job, that's the police' responsibility..." 

 We must take ownership in all things in our lives, both good and bad. 

Lastly, I think the fear of "what could" happen, the suspicion of people you don't understand or know is the breeding of this irrational, illogical fear. It will not help prevent bad things from happening.  

Trust that most people are good, believe that most everyone around you wants to live in peace and be happy, be convicted that those around you want a wonderful life for you and themselves... That is the truth by the way, not some "cup half full" Miss America speech I'm giving you. Let's stop assuming that we are perpetually in danger, stop blaming bad events on faceless agencies/government, stop ingesting the news as though it were live giving serum, and take a little ownership in how we got into this mess... When we do, we will gain our personal power back and that power will heal, inspire, and patch up the missing pieces in our society- preventing history from repeating itself. 

Mel's Mind: Chaos and Ignorance Over Democracy: The Facebook E...

Mel's Mind: Chaos and Ignorance Over Democracy: The Facebook E...: I'll start off by saying that I truly feel a part of my brain melted last night whilst reading certain people's facebook updates during the ...

Chaos and Ignorance Over Democracy: The Facebook Edition

I'll start off by saying that I truly feel a part of my brain melted last night whilst reading certain people's facebook updates during the election.

I started to just write all of this in my journal that only my eyes can read... then I thought a bit more about it and decided that maybe I have something of value to say to everyone out there in cyber world.

I love that we have forums like Facebook, Twitter, this blog site, and others, but they aren't to be used without repercussion. If you post something, and I consider you my "friend," and the thing you say is so damning that it sparks a mental road map in my brain that leads to, "Why am I friends with this person again," don't think that I'm not going to scratch my head in wonder. I'm scratching a hole in my head right now from all of the things I read last night during the election.

Here's a little something about American history...
We are a democracy. We've fought wars that resulted in thousands of casualties over our freedom to be a democracy. The reason the "American dream" is sought after by millions of people is because we have bled and died for our right to dream big. To have a choice to dream big is something that some people in lesser countries around the world ever get to even conceptualize in their minds. America was founded on differences. Differences in religious views, political opinions and race/creed.  Little by little we plug away at trying to perfect a system of government that is "for the people, by the people." We've made mistakes along the way but we are still Americans and we should always keep in mind that we are a nation full of differences and that is why this country is the best country in the world. I'm not saying that we haven't behaved poorly at times, or that we have the best programs, but we have democracy and that is something that a lot of countries do not have and probably never will have. What I'm about to talk about isn't people having "differences" in the sense of being a Republican or Democrat. I'm talking about being so extreme with one side or the other that you hate that people have the right to vote for who they want IF who they want is different from who you want, i.e. spitting on what America is all about. These people are pro-active about their hatred of anything that doesn't confirm who they are inside. They hate people for having different opinions and seek out ways to crush the opposing team by undermining their very rights. I believe that is called terrorism.

I read some posts last night from a few people, one of which is a very close friend of mine that I grew up with, that quite literally blew my mind. The sort of things that were said in these person's posts on Facebook were insulting to everyone who loves democracy and believes in it.  Anger fueled a great deal of the posts that these people had written, but some of these things were shared by a great deal of people who echoed such sentiments.  Things like: "We need a good old fashioned Civil War," "If you call yourself Pro-Life or a Christian and voted for Obama, you are neither," "Well, at least half of this country are still Americans," "Romney's wife should be raped by a black man," "Romney's family should burn in hell," "Obama should be slain by the KKK and strung up in a tree in Texas." These types of things came out of the mouth of people I "accepted as friends." I couldn't believe what I was reading. The thing is... these people who posted this stuff weren't joking around AT ALL.

I had trouble sleeping last night because of the hatred I read over Facebook. It bothered me on a molecular level. It also made me re-evaluate my flippancy in choosing friends because of shared "mutual friends," on Facebook. Again, this isn't about anyone having a varying opinion politically than me, or being of a different religious affiliation, this is about pure Grade A hatred and stupidity. Hatred and stupidity have been the only reasons why we've had war amongst ourselves. It is the thing that prevents growth. It's the two causes of all homicides in this country. It's the partnership of stupidity and hatred that shoot up a movie theatre, bomb a school, mug an old lady, abuse a child, abuse animals, burn down temples, rape a young girl, kidnap and torture a kid on his way home from school... it all stems from hatred and stupidity and it doesn't bode well if you operate on that lethal combo.

Do you want to know how to change the world? Love your neighbor.

It's really that simple. No, really, it really is that simple. If you spew hate, you will get hate back. If you think of only how badly everything sucks, you will get to be right in your own world and you'll have proof of that every day because you are the creator of your own grand design. If all you focus on is what you don't want to happen, you will only see what isn't happening.

I'm not trying to be airy fairy about this stuff. I like to simplify things and folks, it's pretty simple.

What I've found is a common denominator with the people who posted such disgustingly rigid and hateful things, and I know them all personally...

All of these people have NO idea who they are and they are the loudest people in the room about "what they stand for." All 7 of the people that wrote these types of posts have never travelled out of the country, they have been in about 6 different social clicks over the past 10 years, and they all suffer from a debilitating case of "I could've been somebody if... this or that..." All of them are suffering from a lack of identity, a lack of self worth, and a shocking amount of "life hasn't been fair to me" syndrome.

I sat down and wrote all the names of the people who posted the bigotry statements, the political blaspheme, the rigid unstructured hate-filled thoughts and I realized they all had this stuff in common. They surround themselves with people who accommodate their beliefs because if they were surrounded by people who oppose them on a fundamental level, they'd crumble from lack of self worth.  They acquire new friends each time the wind changes, new friends who only know the "new them." Yet there are skeletons of the past rattling away in their closet and the noise sometimes is too much to bear so they explode with statements they can't retract to stop the ruckus in their mind.

This blog is really written for these people that I'm talking about. If you can relate and have friends in your own life that are behaving like monkeys on fire, then by all means feel free to voice your stories in a public forum because it's a guarantee that "they" will be.

I've stayed silent about my concerns for a long time regarding some of these people I'm speaking of, but it's time to speak lest victory defeat us from the inside out.

On a lighter, more funny closing note:

No matter who you voted for, you are part of this wonderful democracy that is America. If you hate people because they voted differently than you, you don't deserve to live in a country where democracy is the staple ideal.  You should join the Borg or the Darkside or something if you love assimilation as much as you claim. I hear it's extra hatey this time of year on the Death Star.