RIGHTS?

ARGH!!!!!

I know it's impolite to "yell" in CAPS. But frankly I get a little angry when people start talking about Rights, Freedom and such. It usually means someone wants to convince themselves and others to TAKE something from someone else (usually something they don't understand, don't want to understand, and or are afraid to understand).

I don't pretend to know a lot about freedom. My life, I have been told, has been easy. What do I know of pain, suffering, trial and loss.
I haven't been in jail, I haven't even had a driving ticket. I don't even have my own car.
I haven't killed anyone, I haven't seen someone murdered, I haven't had a family member killed.
I have never starved, I am not in need of food and I will probably never feel real hunger.
I don't do drugs; legal (beer, nicotine, proscription(when I can avoid the doc), or illegal (pot, pain meds, heroin, acid, etc..) I don't have any terribly disfiguring wounds, illnesses or problems. I've never had braces, or glasses and I haven't been more or less than average weight my whole life.
I'm not afraid of spiders, or small places, heights, water or so far anything but being a grownup.

But I do know compassion, how to listen. I give free hugs. I love with all my heart and have felt stricken when loved ones have died/ left/ or hurt me.
I have friends who have been in jail, gotten tickets and let me borrow their cars. I know people heartbroken from killing or losing someone (cops/ army/ car crash, etc). I've fasted, for medical and spiritual reasons. I've visited bad sections of cities and donate to those I can aid. I have scars, and soft teeth.

I respond very rarely to chat lines and even this blog is out of character for me. I'm not a very public speaking person. I have no problem speaking in front of people or too people. I just don't like imposing my tirades on others a high point of life.

I understand as well that by using generalized words like They, People and Someone I can further perpetuate the problem. I don't want to cause a debacle around "who said what and why it was wrong." I just would like to see better prepared arguments, Evidentiary support, and maybe even a little understanding.

There are WAY more than 2 sides to every story. But that doesn't mean the author knows what they're talking about. Or that they don't.

Take this little snippet I took from a chat board online.
~~~
CPB:
Every cult wants to rule the world.

USC:
its like saying the founding fathers, or the apostles were part of a cult.

MHG:
The root of Culture = Cult
Cult:
1.a particular system of religious worship, esp. with reference to its rites and ceremonies.
2.an instance of great veneration of a person, ideal, or thing, esp. as manifested by a body of admirers: the physical fitness cult.
3.the object of such devotion.
4.a group or sect bound together by veneration of the same thing, person, ideal, etc.
5.Sociology. a group having a sacred ideology and a set of rites centering around their sacred symbols.
Connotation aside sounds like they were a cult to me.

AVS:
Hahaha, Gotta love America, A big Bowl of mixed people/races that can't agree.
~~~


Freedom. Rights.
Why use words that you can't even agree to the meaning of?
Do you feel better as a bully, or the one bullied?

______
Later
After searching around more posts for a little clarity I remember the words from one of my favorite old guys, when he thought about why people spend so much time debating the subject of how many stars there were. He pronounced "It's because anyone could express his profound conviction on the subject without fear of being proven wrong, because it was impossible to know the answer."

Wall posts

Without Love Breath is just a clock Ticking.

Without Breath Love is just Necrophilia.

Isn't life great :)

No, nothing I regret nothing.

I've told many beauxs and friends that "I don't regret anything I've done." I'm not a saint or a horrible sinner. I'm a little bit of a diva and I like the pleasure of a man's company.

In different languages I feel more open to the lyrics.
It started when I was very young.
My grandmother "Oma" would say a little prayer with me at night.The prayer goes like this :
Ich bin klein, mein Herz ist rein. Daß niemand drinnen wohnen kann, aber Jesus allein.
I am small. My heart is pure. That no one can live inside but Jesus alone.

It's a little less depressing than, "If I should die before I wake." And I believe my Oma lived to that prayer.
My mother learned it when she was little and she kept up the habit until I was old enough to doubt religion and didn't know my grandmother anymore.

Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu'on M'a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M'est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
see'est Paye, Balaye, Oublie, Je Me Fous do Passe

My grandmother married my grandfather. A young soldier in the American Army during WWII. She grew-up in Geisfeld/Bamburg and he in Cleves Ohio.
He brought her back to the USA as was the way. She didn't speak German at home, Americans couldn't distinguish the Germans they didn't know from the Germans they didn't want to know. So, she raised five kids, grew a tasty garden of veggies and was the best woman I got to do dishes with.
I learned from her, to always keep mints in my purse. To sew, and most importantly; To love god and my fellow humans.

Avec Mes Souvenirs J'ai Allume Le Feu
Mes chagrins, Mes Plaisirs,
Je N'ai Plus Besoin D'eux
Balaye Les Amours Avec Leurs Tremolos
Balaye Pour Toujours
Je Repare A Zero

My mother left home before she even moved out. She couldn't wait to get away from her lost father and yet was crushed to leave her mother. As young kids, we visited twice a year, but then only once every two years. I don't think my mother forgave herself for being away during the last years of her mothers life.
Stille Nacht (Silent Night) was my Oma's favorite song -my mother remembers-
When I hear the words in any language, it's like a vocal hug from my grandmother.

Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu'on M'a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M'est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Car Ma Vie, Car Mes Joies
Aujourd'hui Ca Commence Avec Toi

The song Edelweiß from the Sound of Music is also like my grandmother. It's written by Americans; my grandmother was made into an American. It's connection to Germany is faint and only known to the few who look for deeper meaning- ask an Austrian or German about the song and they will know it from the musical only; I only know of one trip back to Germany my grandmother has taken since she left with my grandfather. And both, when I think of them, bring a warm soft wetness to my eyes. A small white flower that lives on mountains is worn by the best of soldiers. A woman who learned how to live with a war survivor who never came home.


The English language is like most Americans. A bratty, rough, mutt that will change with a whim or fad. The English dictionary grows with each passing year. Who needs new words when the old ones are more suitable for the task. Don't start adding new things without knowing the old. I love the quote from "My Fair Lady" Dr Henry Higgins says: " In France every Frenchman knows his language from 'A' to 'Zed' -
The French don't care what they do, actually, as long as they pronounce it properly."


That's why I love schools teaching young kids more than one language. We teach more than one subject. It opens the mind. It allows a wider understanding. If you eat the same food every day, not only will your body lack certain nutrients but you will also starve your taste-buds and mind of the wonders of choice. A different lens can show a better view.
Listen to more than pop, watch movies that aren't just in BluRay. Read books that aren't only found on the Best Sellers rack. Walk down a street that doesn't have a bar or mall on it.


and you know what you'll find...


... Everything (tutto).

zzzZZZZ

Why so elusive? The slumber I need in the bed that I have, it's fading from me like the patience I had.
I've read, I've written, I've taken a bath. Nothing it seems will quicken my repast.
Lights turned off, eyelids wide shut. Slowing my breathing will get me out of this rut.
I punch my pillow to iron out the creases and try to turn over, on my right no sleep either.
Too quiet the room to loud the basement. Without another spoon, this one can't make it.
In the dark, thoughts keep me up. The maybe's and mistakes; will I ever be enough?
Questions I ask of myself and others. only make my mind sharper and the shadows look longer.
No stars comfort, no melatonin will alter, this whitewashed mind that stays up way too often.
Encumbered by nightgowns, no mummy is made. Just myself in this chamber Sandman must be paid.
Stuffed animals and creatures are scattered on the floor, they hold no comfort for me anymore.
Day or night, it matters not. I'll light the lamp, or mimic the sloth.
Just let me sleep, oh let this mind try I'm restless, my thoughtlessness no longer denied.
Under the sheets, over the blankets, my leg curls until I wake up.
Bleary eyed, bushy haired my night rushed by without dream or mare.
Tomorrow and today are one and the same. now rise up. Get up. Don't just lay there.

Where do I want to be in 5 years

A blog at 2am.


I want to be in an abode of my own.
Have a car I enjoy driving.
And a man who won't mind writing.

A new hair style is due.
Throw away ALL but 6 pairs of shoes.
If you haven't looked at it in a year, you don't miss it.

Captain, at least.
No marks on your license.
Getting closer to marriage.

Facebook, don't get me started. (You remember Myspace)
Two more countries down and four states minimum.
Able to cook, meat, fish and poultry and one veggie dinner superbly.
Publish something, or present a creation of your very own.

Clean inbox, full mailbox.
No empty locket.

Another world

I love getting lost in fiction.
The impossible feats accomplished by somewhat ordinary people. Major characters that always get their happy ending. I started to love the things an author could create within the world of words.

My favorite worlds include:
Xanth
Phase/Proton
Amber
Shannara
Aloria
Discworld
Middle Earth
Westland/ Midlands/ D'Hara and the Old World
Star Wars universe
Lyra's Oxford
Julie's tundra
and Earth, in more ways than one.
I could Travel these worlds with the lick of a fingertip, or a very dextrose thumb.

I've dropped lots of books in the tub, with or without the aid of a shelf. I've dropped crumbs and ink and drink and been mad at myself.Do you know what happens to gummy worms left in a hot car? They melt onto your favorite novel and redecorate the cover of somebody's memoir.

After watching Finding Forrester I don't 'dog-ear' books, and I have traded real bookmarks for gum wrappers, receipts and dollars. Whatever's laying around when I have to pause. It's half the fun to return to a story without a map and rekindle the journey and see what marker guides my path.

Thank you authors,
Thank you for stories.
Thank you for morals,
And mischief soon sorted.
Thank you for people I can oft relate to

Thank you for accents and names I cannot pronounce.
Thank you for centaurs, lovers, dwarves, heros and cats.
Thank you Terry's for all your wonderful detail.
Thank you Initials (A.C., P.J., C.S., J.R.R.) for talking.

I've left out some that I know I have loved,
Not out of spite, but a simple mind now done.
I've many talents I'm sure but my favorite is this one,
To forget enough detail and love repetition.
For this means I love your books, not once and then never,
But over and over, find new reasons to smell the leather.

In waking I dream of fiction,
In dreams I live with non.
With my words I live my life,
With printed words I see yours.

Thank you for giving me my heart back,
My imagination and humor some company and silence.
Anticipation, discovery, knowledge and meaning.
Thank you for leaving some things unspoken, and hidden.

My books may have broken spines and they have have writing in the margins. I've fallen asleep more nights with a book in my hand, under my pillow, or lost in the covers; that 20yrs of marriage will have to work hard to reach the same number.

I can travel in movies and some made from books are a wonder. Like books, movies have a certain 'author'. They tell a story and have a lot to offer. But they don't let you create. You see people reading in many a television program, but do you hear of an author describe a movie in his prose? Will you

read

about some guy sitting, snacking on Dorito's while watching Seventh Heaven. No

Movies are grand, they tease the senses
But books...
((sigh))

The creation doesn't stop after production and distribution.
The door has merely opened for your mind to run through it.
That's why I cherish my books. The old and the young. From Julius the Baby of the World to the Iliad (which I still haven't read). They'll teach me something, every time I read them.

Because each time I return to the authors' words, I'm a new artist looking at the same paints in a drawer. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I hold the paintbrush once more.