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Looks like I may have a ton of these, so this is collection 1 of Reflections |
| Notebook post after the unarmed deaths of two black men and the Dallas shooting of a dozen police officers: "Note: The world has always been violent and ugly. But wh..." The world has always been violent and ugly. But why in the age of so much technical and social progression do we still feel like we're being left behind? Possibly because our country isn't even 300 years old yet. We're still a baby compared to every other nation. But that's no excuse. I don't think our problem is lack of 'thinking' but simply lack of 'DOING'. We all think and talk and protest and etc. but few of us show up to the polls when it's time to elect senators and congressmen. Few of us hold our elected officials responsible for getting laws passed quicker and more efficiently. Few of us take the time to better our own small communities. A lot of us just sit around and wait for change to happen instead of actively being the change we want to see...or so I believe. I'm committed to calling a local contact this weekend and helping to get a local chapter of YWCA off the ground, ASAP. |
| BC: Let's try writing in a very confined space: A bathtub story. Your character/ or you are going to stay in this single, relatively confined space for your entry. Do you think you could write a good story with such restrictions placed on you? Have fun! "You guys may have to carry her, I don't think she can walk." The new female orderly smirked at her co-workers, at my expense. "You think because I'm big I can't walk?" I spat at her with as much venom as I could muster. "If you can walk then why don't you go in that room and change into these scrubs?" Without breaking eye contact; I slowly rise from the gurney, relieve my newfound enemy of the thin blue scrubs and walk into my confined space. --------------------------- "So, are you not going to pee in the cup?" "No, what do you need my pee for?" Orderly Aggravated rolls her eyes and barely suppresses another put upon sigh, "tests". "I don't need any tests," they're just trying to steal my blood. My blood is precious. My blood is mine. ------------------------------ "If you don't pee in the cup we will have to restrain you." I don't answer. When did the room get so small? It wasn't bad when I was allowed to leave and use the restroom. The first one in is a decent enough looking man. He is followed large angry looking security officer. Officer Angry walks around the bed so I have to split my attention between the first guy and him. I picked the right corner; it's directly across from the door and next to the one way glass so I can't be observed too easily. The first guy on my left doesn't seem threatening enough so I focus on Off. Angry. As the largest threat I have to incapacitate him first. I kick out at his knee, he bends it to alleviate any damage. More hands catch me. My legs, they have my legs! No matter, I'm too heavy, I'm dead weight, like a stone. No way they can lift me, no way. Someone is helping Officer Angry. They have my right leg and arm. Octopus limbs grab my left extremities. I'm in the air. How is this possible!? I almost break 300. I shouldn't tense up that probably helps them. I should think like a stone, think like a dead woman, dead weight. It's too late, they have me on the bed. Velcro sounds louder than jail bars or so I imagine. I can't move my arms but they haven't gotten my legs yet. I clamp my thighs together. That's my space. NO ONE is allowed in MY SPACE! With all my focus on my thighs I can see that they are astounded by my strength. It takes them far longer than expected to pry my legs apart. Orderly Aggravated is near my left hip. She smirks at some guy orderly that's near my right breast. On her cue he flips my shirt up to reveal my breast. I am beside myself. She smiles, vindication. Shame, misery, loathing, fear all mingle into one. I didn't hear the Velcro down by my feet. When did they destroy the vice between my thighs?! Rick? My old boss?! What is he doing between my legs? O yea, that's how they distracted me when I was on the floor. It can't be him, and yet...he has the right skin tone, the same faded hairline. He was in the corner when I first saw him, the fear in his eyes palpable. He should be afraid, it's his fault I'm stuck in this room, mostly his fault...mainly. Now I'm stuck to this bed and he is between my legs. "I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU." It's all I can do. I can't move anything but my mouth. PAIN "You're hurting me!?" Rick moves away with a piece of my urine mixed with the dead blood my Aunt Flo decided to bring to the party. PAIN Someone is sticking me in the crook of my right arm. It hurts. I know tensing makes it hurt worse. I know they want to hurt me so I can focus on the pain and not what they're doing to me. What they did to me. My breast is still exposed. Silence... I weep. Where is my dignity. Where is my control? Where has my life gone? Aunt Patty walks in. Dully I whisper, "They think I'm crazy Aunt Patty." "No, they just think they can help you." I don't remember all that we said but I mentioned the placebo effect. "See, you ain't crazy if you can talk about placebos." I smile, I want to laugh but I don't remember what that feels like. I turn my face to the right, away from Aunt Patricia who has always been so kind to me. I know I am ugly in that moment and I don't want her to see it, to see my pain. She's at the end of her rope, I know she wants to cry with me but is playing her part. She is here to calm me down, not share in my upset. Seconds pass in silence. A new female orderly comes in and removes the Velcro restraints. I curl into a ball on my side. Aunt Patty is gone. I am alone. ---------------- "Hey Ms. Holmes, when you're ready I have a chair here for you. We're going to take you up to your room." I don't want to move but my options are limited. Any where is better than this awful room with the one way glass and the Velcro straps. I collect my clothes and bloody underwear from the corner. Orderly Happy gives me a bag to put them in. I clutch my meager possessions to my chest and sit in the chair. In my false chipper voice I say: "Let's go see what's upstairs." |
My response to "Spiritual Newsletter (July 6, 2016)"  I would/will totally read this! As a born again Christian I don't feel the need to "fear" any book/movie/speech that glorifies the devil. My strength is in the Lord and so long as I meditate on him before and after exposing myself to harmful influences I will be fine. I think most people deny themselves the basic pleasures in life because they do not know how to guard themselves from demonic spirits and impressions. My poem for "Poetry Newsletter (July 6, 2016)" LINK TEXT HERE ▼ Licentia Rhyme Form ▼ Footnotes |
| BC - Social Media: Let's discuss the pros and cons of using social media for your writing. Do you consider yourself a business owner and the product you are selling is your book. just like any other product on the market in a very matter fact manner? Or do you see it as a necessary evil and do what is recommended for sales but secretly wish it wasn't necessary? Pros and cons of each aspect? How do you see it affecting your private life? I just recently had to suspend/curb my own Facebook use, mainly because I do NOT showcase my most intellectual/creative writing side on there. It's too easy to just share the pics and thoughts of others. It's also easy to loose sight of the bigger picture and flood my own wall with a plethora of posts that pertain to and seem to appeal only to a certain demographic. I'm lucky enough to have a variety of FB friends and so I see myself as having a unique audience, but that doesn't give me the right to just freewheel all my thoughts and ideas. Sure, I have the right to, but does that make me part of the problem or the solution? I've always been a social media dabbler. I can easily go months without posting anything but when I come back it's generally with a vengeance. I'd like to know how many people have just muted my Facebook posts/notifications. I bet it's a lot. If the social media hub of the internet crashed today, I'd probably shed a tear or two, but I'd get over it very quickly. |
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