Young-ish Women with a Badge

“Is she referring to us?”

Yes, I am. The two of you. West LA. What was the name of that street? I was late, having gone to your offices downtown first. Yes, you, who deleted our text messages. Don’t you like your jobs?

“Oh, shit, she’s onto us!”

Yes, I am. Have been for a long time. That was your voice “Jesus”, wasn’t it? Yes, it was. I have a good ear. Ladies, I’m not sure of your end game here, but it’s backfiring. Patience takes a certain level of maturity, and I think you may be lacking in that department.

“Who the f* does she think she is?”

Observant, for one. I could ask the same question of you. Who do you think you are, trying to frame me, trying to set me up, trying to cover up a crime on behalf of a politician. They’re employees, just like you. My taxes pay your salaries and pensions. That’s who the F* I know I am.

“What do you think she wants?”

What I want? Ask yourself that. I have a full time job, among other obligations, and this has been going on far too long. At this point, I want you two women in jail. That could change if you start behaving properly. You’re not special, ladies. Straighten up.

How to use political leverage

Is the system broken? If so, inspect the foundation.

Is the foundation cracked or spalling? Be sure to stand on a solid foundation.

Is the structure simple or complex? Try to simplify through truth.

Are you a liar? You’ve already lost. Try another method.

The Lowest Class By Definition

They are the true untouchables with their
money, power, and a complete lack of:

  • Empathy
  • Respect for humanity
  • Fear of God
  • Basic lawfulness
  • Desire for justice
  • Work ethic
  • Self governance
  • Critical thinking skills
  • Civility
  • An ability to listen
  • Concern for the public good
  • Common sense

With a little luck, they will rise to the point of Goodwill.
Until then, we endure just lipstick on a pig.

Something Wrong?

“There’s something wrong with you, Joy!”

No, there’s not. I’m perfectly ok. I have a job. I rent a big house all by myself. I pay my bills. Lazy about exercise, but that’s nothing unusual in the course of human history. I don’t cheat people – at least not the ones who don’t cheat me. I’m fair. I’m honest. I’m kind. I’m considerate. I’m funny. I’m talented. I’m a great cook. Lousy at keeping house, but again, not unusual in the course of human history. I need a maid, but haven’t hired one yet, though I could afford it pretty easily on my six figure data scientist salary.

Wouldn’t it have been easier to just say “I don’t like you, Joy”? I would have agreed. You’re not like me, and you don’t have to like me. That’s perfectly ok, but when it comes to the decision that there’s some unknown, non-specific, unsubstantiated wrongness about me… well…

I avoid speaking the words associated with GFY – that famous acronym made popular by the most wealthy (and decidedly handsome) entrepreneur America has ever seen. But, I sure do think it. I’m passive aggressive, but only when GFY is appropriate. And, to be even more authentic, I have fun dropping those little nuggets that I know will tweak some irrelevant egos, all the while pretending I didn’t do it on purpose. But only when GFY is appropriate, like when someone tries to get too controlling with me. I’m so good at that! They call it “improv” in some circles, and it involves listening. Really listening.

I’m vindictive, but only when it’s legal to be so, and only through legal means (see passive aggressive). Revenge is best served cold, they say. And really, I am not obligated to forgive anyone. I am not obligated to forget anything. Why should I?

I’m authentically skeptical of all kinds of things – like new age psychobabble in particular. “Let me heal the traumas you endured before I was born… for just under $1,600 and a full workweek of your very expensive time in my magical intensive brainwashing workshop.” Yea… GFY. I’m ok. And your four reviews? Four perfect reviews? Really? Where’s the bad ones? Where are the handful of disgruntled former students that trail behind every new age guru? What’s your education in all this? Any peer reviewed studies to show me? Or are we just going to hold hands, pray to Jesus to help us forgive pedophiles, and sing kumbaya? I have no intention of forgetting anything, Jesus hates pedophiles as per scripture, so GFY. And, not to mention “revenge belongs to me,” said God. I happen to believe that’s true, and have seen the proof thereof, so GFY. My middle finger now has a scratch on the knuckle… very painful, but I’ll be ok.

“I hope you find someone who can help you, Joy.” Thanks! Surely someone will be available to help me unpack. “No, I mean help you with your trauma, because you’re drawing in negativity like a big magnet.”

Ok, I live in Harris County very near the 45 south in an America that has cultured negativity through rotten economic policies. Luck of the draw, really, when it comes to crossing paths with slugs… I mean thugs. I don’t think it’s me. I think it’s the environment. Speaking of which, I’d much rather be living in some rural area with no neighbors, Targets, or freeways, but a psychic told me that the man who loves me would find me here, so here I am. He said my lover will do whatever it takes to be with me, but that he needs to think it through. Easy peasy! I’m also very patient, having waited decades to remarry rather than trying to feign my way into an inevitably disastrous relationship.

Did I mention that I’m authentic? Yes, mostly. In fact, I believe that I am so entirely authentic that I don’t have to put my authenticity on display. No one has the right to know what I’m really thinking. And, if they’ve been a jerk, no doubt they’re calling themselves all the authentically filthy names I have in mind for them anyway, so why duplicate their self-deprecation? How’s that for authentic?

I’m extremely smart. Does that make me smarter than anyone else? Not by a long shot. I’m no more capable of filling my brain with knowledge than the next person. In fact, I’m smart enough to know that there’s too much to know in a single lifetime, so I only know the things I’m interested in knowing. Therefore, everyone is as extremely smart as they want to be, making me extremely smart as well. I’m interested in a lot of things – acting, singing, music theory, literature, poetry, math, science, photography, gardening, butterflies, and food… did I mention that I’m a bit of a dilettante? And I eat too much. Yup, that, too. A smart dilettante with good taste, I am.

I am grateful. Oh, boy, am I ever grateful! There’s this God connection thing going on with me. Little miracles here and there that I find very interesting. I need to learn not to tell people about them – people who might be resentful that they’re not getting little miracles, too. But, really, they probably are getting all kinds of little miracles that they just don’t notice. Note to self… don’t reveal my connection with the divine to those with a “higher” spirituality lest I appear to them that there’s something wrong with me. There’s nothing wrong with me. I just notice the little details, and I’m authentic, which I think Jesus appreciates. Look closer, and it’s clear that Jesus was authentic, too.

There was a time when I was so under the thumbs of my faux family that I thought there was something wrong with me, because they told me there was something wrong with me. There never was anything wrong with me that couldn’t be solved by cutting them loose. And it was free! Didn’t cost me a dime, and probably saved thousands of wasted hours trying to please them. I’m not a people pleaser anymore, though I haven’t yet gotten to the point that I can say “none of your business” to anyone outside of the anonymous surveys demanded of me after I buy something. I mean, damn! I spent time shopping and chose your product! What more do you want from me?

I don’t go to church or claim a religion because I know too much about narcissistic personality disorder. Instead, I consider myself omnitheistic, meaning that I appreciate all religions as a manifestation of that culture’s attempt to understand what no human could ever completely understand. It’s a beautiful thing! All religions are beautiful, though I am personally skeptical of Mormons as the few I’ve come to know haven’t been particularly consistent between the preach and the practice.

A note on leadership and narcissism. All leaders need to be a little bit more narcissistic than most people. Some leaders end up being malignant narcissists, so I try to avoid those places where they roost – the controlling, manipulative types who are so unsure of themselves that they need to dominate in order to stand with their own beliefs. Strange dynamic, yes – but, it’s everywhere. I love religions, but I think spirituality is a very personal thing, and God doesn’t have a bank account, so the 10% thing only makes sense to keeping a roof over the heads of religious leaders, and providing a meeting place for their followers. That’s cool and all… community is a good thing. But, like a lover, I’ll know my spiritual community if I ever find it. Haven’t found it just yet.

When I was a little girl, there was this self-help book called “I’m OK, You’re OK”. I never read the book, but the title alone has been very empowering all these years. Everyone is ok. Well, mostly… when they haven’t allowed the challenges of life to make them not ok. They can choose to be ok.

I’m ok, thanks… but no thanks on the two workshops for a total of $1,600 plus a full work week of my time to learn your method of moving on from my past. I don’t need to prove to anyone that I’ve moved on. In fact, I am not obligated to move on, and I have no intention of moving on. I will, eventually, sue the F out of a handful of people… when I get around to it. I’m busy. Very busy. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Anyone worried about that? GFY.

And, finally, about the sisterhood I recently joined… there’s some authenticity in there that makes me want to stay. And some very intensely inauthentic types that give me pause. I just don’t know… right now I’m not feeling it. But at least I’m not pretending otherwise.

So, I’m ok. Nothing wrong with me. I’m just being… just sitting here, being me, and that’s perfectly ok. In fact, it’s perfect. Perfectly, authentically me.

Poor Fragile Little Sociopath

Don’t tell me who my friends can be.
Don’t stress at what I find funny.

Don’t tell me when to laugh or cry
Don’t tell me how you know that I
think this or that, or should do a thing,
live in a place, or align my life as you approve.

My choices are for me! Not you!

Don’t dictate how to cut my hair
or accuse me of causing your despair
by malicious intent.

Don’t demand I hate the man you chose
to cause the pain you feign.

I see right through you, lazy, drunk, drug addict!
I see how you manipulate and cry on cue
when an audience is near.

I see the clever way you shift the blame.
It’s never your fault, is it… the choice you make
to be the victim of those you hate,

roping in unfortunate souls close enough
to disagree… anyone who can see the truth
behind your fa├žade.

Of course!

Weep whispered tears, inebriated lush!
Tell them all of my brutality for laughing at the joke
you chose to be about you, when it wasn’t…
as if you didn’t know.

As if it wasn’t obvious!

Carpe diem! And if it doesn’t go as planned, just cry…
cry like a baby until you get your way,

you poor thing… poor fragile little sociopath.

I just want my bike

“Daddy, I just want my bike.” she cried,
as the tyrants laughed.

“Why can’t I have my bike?”

Darling child… beautiful child…
How it breaks my heart to know.

Evil people exist because they
lost their hearts.

Somehow, that very normal
part of us all fell away from them.

They kept your bike, and your clothes,
and all your property from you

because that piece of them that should
care about you is gone.

But, like dropping an empty bottle
into the ditch, their emptiness was filled

with ugly, dirty, filthy junk, and
nothing we do to them can clean them up.

They have to clean themselves up.

They have to choose to love again.

They have to cry simply because you cried.

I cry because you cried.

Everyone cried because you cried.

Maybe if we cry because they can’t cry,
it will send some love soap for their souls.

Maybe.

Adultness

Just saw it…
the proof.

Not that I didn’t already know.

But, OH how my heart breaks.
These tears, right behind my eyes.

Spoiled children at the helm
who never found adultness.

Oh, you!

As if the shame you already bear
isn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough. It’s never
enough for you…

You TODDLERS!

Narcissistic brats in suits,
ties, dresses, and heels.

Not “satanists” any more than
the bible you thump

as you spit forth
faux “thoughts and prayers”

in cover of your crimes.

Sorry I couldn’t make your winter
party three years ago.

I don’t like crowds.

And, I don’t like you.

Real children, little ones
with smiling faces…

innocent ones who would
wonder why you don’t play fair…

They are so much better
than you.

What happened to you?

What tragedy of your youth
took away your adult soul?

I’d so like to feel sorry for you,
but, I don’t. I don’t. I can’t.

You Chose This

“In some past life, in some other galaxy, some other dimension
you chose your own fate with all its everything.”

Ok… Really?

“Yes, it’s because your soul needs to work out some kind of karmic
debt so that you can ascend to the next level – the 5th dimension.”

Hmmm…

“It’s all part of a grand scheme of things to help the world ascend
to a higher vibration in which people will behave better.”

I see…

So, that must mean that the former President of the US who, with his brothers,
committed some horrible crimes did so in order to prove it.

“Prove what?”

That the American Government is … ok, I take that back… the US Government
isn’t an actual government anymore, and hasn’t been for a very long time.

“How so?”

Well, if we had a government, I can think of at least four Presidents since 1963
who should have died in prison, but instead were given a free pass.

“Really?”

Yes, really. Probably more, but I can only think of four off the top of my head;
which means that we don’t have a government at all – we have a monarchy.

“C’mon, Joy”

It’s true. We have a King and/or Queen Somebody, but they stay hidden out of fear
that Americans might get just a little too upset about being serfs.

“Maybe…”

And, according to your theory, they, too, chose their fates for a greater purpose, so that
the world could ascend into a higher consciousness. Very heroic of them to be criminals.

“Yes, isn’t it!”

Yea… and chances are, the King and Queen of America are really Reptilian aliens who
shape shift between human and dragon whenever they feel like it, just to scare Congress.

“No joke?”

Right… and I should forgive all the horrible things, because some dragon lady somewhere
deserves my compassion in order to release my soul’s karmic debt.

“Makes sense”

Yea… except why are they sentencing protesters of the last stolen election to decades in prison?
Shouldn’t they, too, forgive and forget in order to allow the soul of America it’s own ascension…

from hell?

“Uh… you’re not quite understanding the concept of forgiveness, I think. It’s not about them or
their souls… it’s about you and your choice to ascend to a higher consciousness.”

That so?

“Just forget about all of it and move on, Joy. Move forward into a better life. If you forget about it
they might finally leave you alone because you won’t be drawing in their matching energy.

You chose this.”

Yea… ok, well, I can’t help but wonder why any soul would choose any of this. I had no control
over the behaviors of grown men in 1962, or of the women who rallied them on. I need another word for

bullshit.

Today’s Realization

Another poem to be written
Another poem about….

Gosh, what’s another word for bullshit?

I realized today how much happier I was
in my naivete…

back when I didn’t understand why
my faux “sisty” behaved so strangely,
demanding that I marry so that she could
“be rich”.

I wrote it off to her lack of an education.

… back when I wasn’t afraid to be myself
because I didn’t actually know who I was
to begin with…

And by “begin with”, I mean my birth.

“The Hunt”… it’s a good movie…
one I relate to in a big way,
having been hunted myself.

I’m tired. No, really, tired… I need to go to bed.

I also need to get this out…
I’m tired – like the beautiful blonde
fighting the crazy rich chick in the movie.

What a great monologue about the jack rabbit
and the box turtle.

I am so f-ing tired! I want to point my finger
at a few entitled perverts and shout
“Straighten up!”

But that’s not my job, is it. Not my job!

Sometimes I wish I didn’t know the things I know.
Most of the time I wonder how human beings can
be so entirely inhumane.

I’m just so tired. Going to bed now. Too tired of it all.
This poem sucks, and I am too tired to care.
I’m supposed to be “forgiving” while believing the strangest things…

Like “reptilian aliens are the root of the world’s problems.”

I am so f-ing tired, that I just can’t think of another word for it…
bullshit.

Good night.

On Rejection

This one is a work in progress, because I think it is a very important topic to cover for the human condition. Rejection hurts! Especially when we want something SO badly that we feel our very existence depends upon it. Our ego needs this THING or PERSON or EVENT so much that it becomes part of our soul somehow. This is my own prompt, so to speak, and I invite other poets to write about it as well.

To me, rejection is a sign post – a signal that, of all the diverging paths before me, that was not the right one. Then, it becomes a matter of whether or not I still want that thing (job, role in a play, etc.), person (love interest, business relationship), or event (film or music festival, poetry marathon).

Next, there’s the why… why do I want this thing so badly that the thought of being rejected is an obstacle. Then, it becomes the question of want vs need. I want to be an artist full time, but I need a steady cash flow. I want a good lifestyle AND I need a steady cash flow to make that happen. Therefore, I need to work as a data scientist more than I need to pursue a career in the arts.

I want a long term relationship with a man, but I need to be his one and only, and I need to feel that love vibe, and I need some time alone for my creativity. I could go on and on with all those needs and wants.

Rejection, therefore, is a necessary function of reaching all those needs and wants at some point in time. I still wonder if I will ever get there.

Poem to come when I have more time to create it.

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