Who do I still think I am??

This one's about lotsa made-up stuff.

30DBC PROMPT: "Convince me that the Easter Bunny is for real. Explain the relationship between Jesus, and the Easter bunny, and how this holy holiday of Easter has come to be celebrated in the twenty first century - more than two thousand years later. Bonus question: How do chocolate and painted eggs figure into the equation?"

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Hey folks! Sorry it's been so long...I haven't been in the mood to do much of anything lately, including taking part in the festivities down at "Invalid Item" . I see it was shut down by Brother Nature 's and my longtime nemesis, Sister Mary Marguerite Mahnamahna. *shakes fist* Curses! I'll get you yet, Sister!! Good to see though that we've been able to find the back door into the place...I'd hate to think of all my friends drowning their sorrows in a back alley upon seeing the notice that their favorite cyber watering hole run by an imaginary monkey was closed due to numerous health code violations and infractions an overzealous anti-grammarian hell-bent on the destruction of the creative process for her own twisted sense of greed and entitlement.

In case you're wondering, this Mary Muggingsworth you've heard us speak of on occasion is a real person. No joke (contrary to what the title of this entry says). We dare not speak her name in certain circles; I know of people who have avoided certain events on WDC because of her presence, and at least one friend of mine has chosen no longer to be a part of this website in part because of her rather childish and eccentric no, her flat out batshit crazy behavior. Luckily, she's blocked a few of us already from viewing her portfolio and participating in her overall outlandishness, but at times when her name has come up I've strongly suggested the opposite of a glowing reference on her behalf...which is why I rarely speak of her unless she's spoken about first. And with that, I'll say no more and turn my attention to items of more importance.

This Easter Bunny thing...yes, we know he's not real (Spoiler Alert for those of you under the age of, like, eight who are reading this...but if that is the case, I suggest you immediately close your browser or whatever and consult an adult who actually cares about you enough to make sure you're not reading this). I have no other way into or around this topic. I'm not good at making things up (as you'll find out later on in this entry). Instead I'll share with you a story from my past, if that's alright with you guys.

I don't know how old I was exactly, but it was that "on the fence" age where you're not entirely sure whether to believe mythical beings like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are real. You want to hold on to that last thread of childhood, yet still look tough at the bus stop in front of the kids who think you're a pussy if you're proclaiming it's the bunny leaving the candy and not your folks.

So the night before that Easter Sunday, I went to sleep with nervous anticipation like I'm sure many kids do...and I woke up in the middle of the night, or did I? I wasn't sure if I was having a nightmare, or if I was hallucinating, or both, but I was in a kind of a shock/panic state...in the dark without my glasses on I could see this weird cross between the Pink Panther and the bunnies Snoopy danced with in the Charlie Brown Easter Special (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRwsTyUPIYE), holding a basket with eggs, chocolates and fake grass dancing flippantly just outside of my bedroom. And being the little wuss I was, I probably started crying because I didn't know what else to think.

From that night on, every Spring around Easter until we moved out of that house, I would see that same vision. It became less frightening, but it still was kinda spooky because I'd remember how evil it looked, even if I knew it meant no harm. Immediately in my head I'd hear the Charlie Brown music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBPcoI4OE9Y) and wouldn't be able to go back to sleep peacefully.

I think I failed the first part of the prompt, because I don't find any correlation between Jesus and the Easter Bunny, nor can I feel confident in trying to convince anyone there's such a thing as either Jesus or an Easter Bunny. I know, sacrilege!! But let's put my disbeliefs aside, please, and focus now on the latter portion of this prompt, kay? "Easter Egg Hunts" in the later portion of the 20th century through today, from my experience, are anything but. And it's surprising that some of them can actually be ran by churches, no less. Long gone are the days eggs (of any nature, chicken-based or plastic) are hidden...now it's a raffle instead. Pay your admission fee, get some tickets, and sit and wait for your number to hopefully be called. What a bunch of bullshit! That's not fun for kids, and if anything, it just introduces them to entry-level gambling. There's nothing remotely "hunt" about it. Last I checked, sitting still and being quiet weren't the same as traipsing over some open field hoping to find eggs of any kind. There's no Jesus in that!

And what was our reward for being well-behaved (because nobody won the mega-big bunny unless they knew someone runnin' the foolishness)? We could go to church. To get our baskets blessed. On a Saturday. Mind you, this was the day before the longest mass of the Catholic year. And Lord, He of all people, knows, there ain't no candy waitin' for you at the end of the basket blessin'. There's, in my case, nightmares. I won't even go into the whole "Easter Best" attire, because I'm feeling the weight of the traumatization in recalling the events as it is...and I can't imagine what it musta been like for all y'all Catholic kids of any denomination that had to dress like every day was a church-goin' occasion.

As I got older and Easter turned into another gift-giving, Hallmark-sponsored holiday extravaganza, one thing became prevalent: people spend money on this and take it seriously. I...don't. But I'm still into the tradition of the hiding of Easter baskets...that never seems to grow old. Maybe it's all the time I spent in retail, making sure other people could have the experiences they wanted to have...being on the business end of it. Suffering for the almighty dollar in companies that couldn't give a damn what your holiday plans were while making sure you knew the CEO extended his wishes before he spent copious amounts of time nailing his assistant carving a pineapple-glazed ham with his family. Ain't no Jesus up in that, either.

Sorry not sorry if you're offended by my take on this holy time of year. Years of therapy and counseling peeling back the layers of the onion still reveal an onion, I guess. That doesn't stop me from shoveling Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs down my gullet...hands down...best time of year for seasonal treats.

BCF PROMPT: "This is Palindrome Week: 4/13/14, 4/14/14, 4/15/14, 4/16/14, 4/17/14, 4/18/14, 4/19/14 - Write a short story or a poem whose title is a palindrome about this week."

Ok, so, I'm not into writing "short stories" because a blog in my opinion isn't designed for that. A blog already is a short story unto itself. I'm not gonna debate the merits of one over the other or the hows and whys or why nots. Not the time nor place. I will admit that the thought of this week's dates being a palindrome was kinda fun...until I saw about 294 Facebook posts about it, and that sort of repetition kills me in ways I'm not already dead inside from. So what I'm about to do...is something I don't do very often. It was the early hallmark (not the company...Google the definition if you have to because I won't insult your intelligence otherwise) of my WDC days...I'm gonna invent a poem on the spot, in this open text box, live, no notes or edits. Just like I did back in the days of "The Computer Age"  (although I doubt some of those items are in their original form).

Palindromeda

A star is born
the day one dies.
We don't have access to meanings
that aren't slanted
otherwise.
We know what we're told,
and what we're given,
but there's too many of so many
to keep track of
properly.
A star,
a symbol,
a martyr;
born the day our youth dies.
We don't know how or why.
Beginning to end and back again,
our mark is more of what we become
and less of what we leave behind.
The slashes and spots
paint us like the same
stars we see
dying
as another one starts to grow.
Don't be the fade...
be the reason.
The comeback of something
that wasn't supposed to go away.
A star being born
on the day like any other day of them
has no reason not to be
seen as it is.
Not until you drop and start
back from where you came.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

I...no, I'm gonna be blunt. Charlie ~ , I'm calling you out by name. I know I should be sympathetic, and I understand the short-term gets in the way a lot. And maybe I've overstepped my boundaries a bit, and maybe I'm missing the point (I do that a lot). I go along with the gags and precepts often enough, and it takes me awhile to catch on sometimes, but if all you have to consider is those immediately affected by you, and they're not wanting to be around you anymore, I don't care how functional you are. Someone is looking for something in you they know exists, but can't/won't/refuses to find it because they know. I can't help but seeing the way things are spread out, the excuses and the offhanded placing of blame when I read your words. I see reflections. I was the same fucking way. I know you're not me and we all have our reasons and struggles. Instead of sympathizing, I wish you wouldn't have to go through any of it. I guess that's what I've been trying to get at the last few times I've chimed in on your situation. I want to feel bad because I like you, Charlie...but haven't we fuckin' all been through it? Some are destined for the happy family. Some get the job and the girl. We get our fix from what will eventually kill us if we're not smart...and by "smart" I don't mean hiding it or carrying on like it's not a big deal. Life can and will make you absolutely question your sanity. And I'm the last person you need telling you that, because I don't want to be a lesson or an example. Ugh. I hate being preachy. I guess I'll end that rant there.

So, ahem, yeah, anyway...Soul Coughing was genius back in the late nineties...fell in love with this band and the poetics of the lyrics against the musicality of the band...I'm feeling deflated as I type.

http://songmeanings.com/songs/view/41964/

THE DAILY BOX SCORE:

Waiting on my financial aid queries. I submitted my application to http://www.tc3.edu/ and from this point on all I have is hope. Doesn't help that my high school of record is now on Spring Break or that my last college of attendance requires a fee to send transcripts (I admittedly wish they don't need to send). But things in that regard are looking up. Yay me!! Or something.

Then there's this...

And then my beloved Buffalo Sabres, who couldn't seem to win at losing all season long, hit rock bottom not only by being the worst team in the NHL this year...but they lost the lottery weighed in their favor for the right to have the first pick in this year's draft of prospects, college kids, and other board bangers. I won't bore you with details or fancy Twitter pics of my reaction, but it was something like "Losingest losers lose again to losers", or something. Sucks being a hockey fan around here.

Got the office supplies taken out of my leg today. Kinda hurt, kinda bled, but I'll live. Still have holes in the bones, but I guess that's to be expected. That means a week and a half of shutting up about it, staying the course, and praying I don't bleed through my socks. Still booted when I strive for public necessities, and the crutch only helps me put two feet on the ground when I need to walk. I'm so over it, but the calcium deposits leftover from the initial bone breakage that will be there from "the duration of, well, this" will always be there, and I guess I'll be better in a year or so because I'll "always feel something in there". As much as I want to curse loudly in question of the prognosis, I should be better prepared to getting used to a stupid leg minus pills and metal stuff in it.

Whew! I guess it's not that bad, doing this when it's not totally expected (although I feel terrible about not having an entry on the ready for "Invalid Item" , but then again, nobody's found my eggs yet and I made it easy-ish off the bat to find them). I have been feeling the need to nap a lot lately, and I may just indulge in that now while I can. Peace, you don't use words like that, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!