Hmm… Well, first, I’m thankful to even be alive, haha.
Even though I’m kind of without purpose and losing my mind, and still really, really need someone in my life, at least for culture, not just acquaintances… ‘Have family or die trying.’
But still, breathing and not a corpse.
Being poor, I’m thankful for a smartphone and internet access of some kind, so I can actually communicate any time of the day. :)
Though there are dead-zones at unspecified times of the day, and people appear less available than ever, so it can still feel like being Tom Hanks talking to a Wilson ball; not to mention the virtual buttons are permanently burned in to the AMOLED screen. (Yes, burn-in will never go away despite the decline of CRTs.)
But still, some communication security. …If only I knew how to use the emergency line…
I’m thankful to have a roof over my head…
Though parts of said roof had holes leading to massive water damage; the pest population is never zero, etc., etc.…
But still, not freezing or weathered to death. (A relatively warm day today— that was a plus.)
I’m thankful for not living in a third-world country…
Even though it often feels like it when it’s hard to get any kind of medical attention until it’s too damn late, and job security for me is… sigh…
But still, the potential to rise… not rising and it hurts like hell, but… potential.
…My god, I’m not thankful for being so depressing!
Be thankful you’re not living my life!
Hope you’re having a nice Thanksgiving Day. :) Show some actual gratitude in your home, despite Facebook… better yet, turn off all your devices for family time! …Aah, enduring family. :|
And thank you both for inspiring this post. (See? Twitter isn’t useless. :) )
Well… as an innocent civilian who hasn’t personally bombed anyone, it’s fairly obvious that I did not respond, directly. But I do feel the need to make the record clear on where I stand in all of this, at least once. Let there be no misunderstanding.
It’s been two months away from the Friday Fic, and it appears I now have to sign up for something… oh, it’s just a constructive crit subgroup. …It’s hard enough reading as it is, with my broekn brain… Well, on with the micro-story. Enjoy. :)
Mid-autumn, it was: leaves, leaves everywhere. Leaves of multiple colors— yellow, orange, red, and brown.
Trees with vibrant colors, of leaves that have yet to fall.
And the plants that had leaves…
…well, you know…
…they eventually dropped all of theirs.
This marks the annual, seasonal change in the life of organisms: grow, bloom, shed, and trust that the bark is enough to survive winter… This season also reveals to me that I won’t get as many good, non-repetitive shots, compared to summer.
As much as we would like to think that the seasons don’t affect us, well, they do. Being in-doors more often, we are less social, publicly; and in wearing more clothing for the cold we touch more surfaces, and spread germs that way. We don’t get a virus because of the rain or the cold, per se; we get a virus because of contact. Cold & flu season… just statistical peaks.
But we are directly affected by the seasonal changes. With Seasonal Affective Disorder, or S.A.D., sad as it is, some become depressed or ‘bummed’ in the lack of sunlight, the lack of Vitamin D2, produced by the ultraviolet irradiation of ergosterol in the body— ergo…calciferol.
Some people are already depressed at this time of year, but not entirely in the shadow of the tilted sun— the autumn and winter solstice, but in the darkness of man, or… the fall of man.
fall (n.): the loss of innocence and grace.
The corrupted few make headlines, and exploited weaknesses change us by brute force.
Plants, of course, don’t understand these human things; plants don’t shoot people, they shoot for the light. As humans, we at times deliberately dwell in darkness. Our artificial nature sets us apart from the other life that way. While the mind needs diverse stimulation to be healthy, our habits will, for better or worse, put us in repetition. (Yes, I’ve been watching Criminal Minds.)
We need to ‘get out there,’ despite the perceptions. Turning in is for sleep.
The fall of man is especially marked by the absence of leadership. It’s marked by not only the absence of example in responsibility, but in stress as well. With bad leadership, we’re implicitly and explicitly told to not ask critical questions. More things go unresolved; days go by in the blink of an eye, and we are left to figure things out on our own, all stretched thin…
…The plants, of course, don’t have a say in any of this. It’s our crap. The plants— they recycle crap and never complain. It is nature at its best— the reason why we consider plants in full bloom ‘beautiful.’
With the seasons comes loss and renewal, death and reproduction…
We cannot just leave things with a bunch of words. …I know I’ve been guilty of that. I do, however, believe in getting to the truth so people can be free of the confines of the mind. If you believe in the truth, then why would you put petty focus on the lie? Comfort? Comfort is temporary. Happiness? Happiness is a state of mind; don’t put conditions on it if you want to be happy.
Hey, if you want better days, then better yourself; only you can make a direct impact on your life… regardless of the season.
…Okay, so I’m leaving you with a bunch of words. Would you rather me talk about gun rights or sound equalization? No, I didn’t think so.
Well, whatever you’re doing tonight, have a good one. Catch you later… :)
Relationships are messy. They’re a part of life, and you will be tested… naturally. The internet, however, being as it is a global network of computers, isn’t natural.
Long ago, I thought communicating online could be the solution to my difficulty of communicating in real life, being brought up in isolation. A window of opportunity, a way to soul-search, witnessing personal accounts of friendships that began online, an outlet of productive activity, etc., where I would otherwise have the, well, void.
Sorry about the delay, everyone. “Stay tuned,” followed by: no internet until a few days ago. Well, now I’m here, ready to bore you to death. :)
…Like tonight’s debate. Oh, I was so close to doing a whole draft response to the gun control “debate,” where the message has been all the same: comply with the President’s agenda. Forget Putin, we’re lacking in leadership over here…
Now, today, I’ll be less serious. Because I’m so weak even social media stresses me out. Don’t tell me otherwise; I’m sick of pandering in general.
Burgers and hot dogs, walking under a hot sun, sweating. Be sure to thank the birds …’cause they eat the danged insects.
Well, it’s the end of the season. The calendar puts the autumnal equinox at 4:21 a.m., so I’m literally kind of doing this at the last minute… I’d considered doing something “The Last Leg of Summer” weeks ago, but didn’t have it in me, or enough photos.
Well, it’s the weekend, and I wrote another little microstory. Did I use the prompt to add to the “infinitely growing story arc”? Yes… but I wanted something different, something specific. So I actually wrote two. One, finished on time but unpublished; the other, today. …And, of course, I’m not satisfied. Enjoy. Continue reading Away from the Everyday Normal→
Time for more weekend fiction! You excited? No? …Well, at least I called it ‘weekend’ fiction to excuse my tardiness. Friday Fiction, weekend fiction— whatever it’s called, feel free to enjoy it and criticize it. …And also, if you could, feel free to give me awards, a limo, a million dollars… just kidding.
Tuesday, I couldn’t remember how I got home; it was dusk, and I realized: I was losing time. I felt like my memories were being snatched and locked away. …It also occurred to me, I’ll likely need a ton of therapy once this was all over.
Wednesday, after dealing with a student I once told to “eat me,” I dragged Sam with me back to the antique shop.
Dizzy but determined, I said to Mr. Timberland, “Last time, purple bottle, here…” I motioned toward the far wall. Then the weirdest thing happened: he said he never had such a bottle.
Every week Rochelle hosts a link-up, where the objective is: a three-part story, at most 100 words, for a picture prompt by week’s end.
Click here to see what others have written or add your own take for the prompt.