Saturday, January 31, 2009

Today Was a Good Day

This bench means a lot to me. It’s a place where I go to think, reflect and try to get a clear head. Today was only 25 degrees out. I went and got a Starbucks Cafe Mocha and sat by myself. There weren’t many people jogging or walking their dogs as usual. There was a silence that I never heard before on this bench. From afar, I could see the kids ice skating on the pond from the other side. I remember my mom taking me to ice skating on this pond when I was that age. I remember sitting on this bench having deep conversations with my true love and watching the ducks pass by, floating so carefree in the water. No matter what season it is, this bench is mine. It always comforts me when I’m feeling down. I didn’t feel the chill of the 25 degree weather, instead, I felt the warmth of the sun glowing on my face and the heat of the coffee warming up my hands.

Today was a good day.

Thank you all for the advice you have given me on my previous post. I really appreciate it and I have been feeling a lot better. Today really helped, so I took a picture of my favorite place.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Trying to Take My Own Advice

I'm not sure whether or not it's easier to give advice while not experiencing something, or give advice having gone through it already.

"Easier said than done."

"Been there done that."

"It gets easier with time."

"Time heals all wounds."

Since I know what it’s like to go through anxiety and depression, I feel that I can give advice on what works for me when I’m neck-deep in it.   I have written “how to” articles online as well as tips on my blog. I’ve told people numerous tips, such as: eat bananas, take vitamin D, get some sunlight, write it all out, drink coffee, exercise and watch a good comedy, etc. All of these are great tips because they have all worked for me in the past. The one that helped me the most was a vigorous work out at the gym and then tanning right afterwards. That was like a drug for me. It did wonders!

Now I’m in a funk. It started a couple days ago actually. I first started getting signs of fatigue. You can actually see it in my last two videos. I look tired. I look like I had it up to ‘here’.  I don’t know if anyone else noticed--but I sure did while reviewing the video clips. I compared it to another one a week prior and I was one happy, jumpy idiot. Now, I’m a complete washrag. And, the thing is, I’m not sure what exactly is bothering me. I get regular check ups from my doctor and my last blood work was last year, which was fine. Maybe I need another one. But each time I think it’s something “physically” wrong with me, it ends up being nothing more than just the winter blues.

“Oh it’s early menapawz’. Ya’ aunt got dat' at around yer’ age.” my mother says while she’s trying to stuff my face with corn muffins she had just baked, “Here, have some cawfee.” she says while she tinkers around the subject as if it were no big deal. And it really isn’t to her because she never went through menopause because she had a hysterectomy at the age of forty. Or did she? I mean, there are some that will argue with that. Some even say men go through PMS too. How? They don’t have estrogen. I don’t get it.

Anyway, putting aside the menopause solution that my mom gave, I’ve been trying to take my own advice. Here are my morning rituals: pray and meditate for at least an hour. Oh I got this all set up---huge meditation pad, candles, new age music and bibles in different translations. This part helps me out the most I have to say. It gives me a morning jolt. Then, I make strong coffee and throw the good ol’ banana in my sugar free cereal. It gets me through half the day, until around 1pm or so. Then, I start downward spiraling into a deep pit of depression. But, I’m not “sad”, I’m just tired and drawn out. (Reference to videos please!) I totally noticed it last night while reviewing my last video.  Maybe the psychic put a spell on me.

Then I thought: “Oh no! The dark energy! Could the psychic be right?” But, thank God for my faith in Jesus and the hedge of protection that I know I have against any dark energy is enough for me to know I’m safe. Where Christ resides (in my heart) there can be no darkness. I have that back again.  I strayed for a while and realized it was a dark place without God. 

I refuse to take antidepressants. Most of you know I’m against medications of any sort. I used to take them and all they did for me was make me hyper, unreasonable and then gave me withdrawals when I stopped. It also made me gain weight. My psychiatrist tells me that I shouldn’t take any medications----and he prescribes meds for so many people! I go to him to talk and enjoy the intelligent feedback I get. He's a wonderful sounding board.  This guy rocks. He’s very quiet at first but when she says one sentence, you better listen, because it’s the solution to everything. He doesn’t make you figure it all out on your own like those idiots I used to see---he puts in his two cents. I love that. And he has no problem calling me out on my b/s.

So tips...tips...tips... I need them right now because I feel like a big sap. If you can provide any of your remedies to get you through a funk, please let me know. I’ve tried everything. Also, I’m not into homeopathic remedies. I know they’re all natural, but I want to go completely natural.

Help!

(Prayers help too!) 

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Psychic Reading Results...

Psychic Appointment & Amy Beckerman

Today I will be going to the psychic that found me in the grocery store.  I will keep you all informed later this evening about the details regarding my "ex-husband".   Oddly enough, this photo really looks like her too!  (Kinda cute!)  

Stay tuned! 

------------
Also, if you would be so kind to just do this simple thing... Please cast your vote for my friend, Amy Beckerman so she can get on The Big Gay Sketch Show.  It only takes one click--it's not hard at all.   Click here to case your vote!  

You can check out her stand up comedy act below!

Monday, January 19, 2009

Small Fetishes

Yesterday, I made a short video in my previous post explaining how Madelene sneezed on me while I was asleep. With in four hours I had over 170 hits on Youtube. When I woke up, it was over 230. My home videos don’t usually get many hits, as much as the ones focused on suicide and homophobic fundamentalist Christians.

Then a few comments started trickling in. One woman asked if I could get Madelene caught on film sneezing. I responded politely telling her that would be a funny idea. No problem. Then, a gentleman personally emailed me through Youtube and asked if I was ever able to smell the “mist” of Madelene’s sneeze, and if so, what did it smell like.

The woman who requested to see Madelene sneezing has a whole Youtube account dedicated to this human function. I spoke to her personally through email and she explained to me that there are many people out there who have a fetish (sexual or not) for sneezing.
In the past, I had a friend who had a huge foot fetish. I never understood it. I would let him rub my feet because it felt good! He was a gentleman and never went beyond anything uncomfortable, until I saw my feet rising during one foot rub. Then that was it.

Here I am thinking: I wish I had some sort of fetish. Hell---I don’t even have an erogenous zone! I thought I knew everything under the sun, but apparently I don’t. Now, my video below is going to get mega hits because of one thing: sneezing fetishes. Great. I’m going to be known for the most inane fetish of all time!

EDIT: Ok, call me sick but I'm doing an experiment of how many people will actually view me sneezing. Here's the clip. Don't get too excited.

Friday, January 16, 2009

"You're So Vain"

Apparently, there seems to be a rumor out that AA is a pick up joint. I guess everyone is sick and tired of meeting people in bars, or on internet dating services and chat rooms, that now they have figured out the perfect place to meet their other half---at Alcoholics Anonymous. Lovely.

Who would have thought AA would be such a lure. Maybe an advertisement such as, “Meet the girl or guy of a lifetime at Alcoholics Anonymous. Enjoy a meaningful conversation over a cup of freshly brewed coffee while nibbling on a jelly filled sugar coated donut or sucking on a delicious hard candy given out by one of our local drunks. How sweet it is! And please, no alcohol.”

As I threw my belongings out on the long pull out steel table, “John” said hello. Of course I greeted him back politely. He notices that we both share a love for the java bean elsewhere; a more distinguished cafe: Dunkin Donuts. His stare drilled into my very being. I became a bit paralyzed by his 'deer in the headlights' type of look and started to get a bit irritated. I kept shuffling around making room for the next poor sap that has to sit next to me, ready to tell the entire room how much worse off it was for them.

I glanced over at John and he’s still fixated on me. His daddy long legs were practically hitting the bottom of the table (not sure if the third one was too), and his posture was upright, ready to start a conversation at any given moment. In my mind I’m thinking all sorts of things, trying to pretend that I’m ignoring his excited energy. I wondered what he would have thought if he knew I was a lesbian. If I told him, he’d sadly be more intrigued. But what if I told him I found Jesus? He’d probably run. So it’s on. That’s my way out.

The meeting was about to begin and the directors in the front of the room were about to tell somebody to read the preamble, so they could stutter upon every syllable because they hate reading aloud. It’s always awkward reading in front of 30 or more people.

Before the director says one word, John looks over at me and says, “Cold enough for you?” If there’s one startup pick up line that annoys me the most, it’s this one: frivolous weather chit-chatter. Go away. I had no witty comeback because I was annoyed and irritated just to be sitting amongst this cultish gathering. I nodded and said, “Yeah, it is.” I left my coat on because it was very cold in the room and plus, I didn’t want him eyeing me down anymore than he was--not that I was wearing anything seductive. I could have been wearing a snowsuit for the love of God and he would have probably been pitching a tent anyway. Maybe it’s because I was practically the only woman in that room who looked as though she wasn’t out partying all night. The other ladies who were sitting in their seats looked like a bunch of zombies with dark rings around their eyes. Other gals were shaking and quivering due to withdrawals or just the cold weather itself---who knows? Anything is possible in these rooms.

After 30 people shared their story and time was up, I headed as quickly as I could toward the door. As I stepped outside, I heard somebody yell, “Wait!” It was John. He wanted to know if I was new because he had never seen me before. I told him I’ve been in here for two months but sometimes go to other locations as well. He looked over at my car and said, “Oh what a nice car.” I thanked him and then told him it was nice meeting him. I also thanked him for sharing his story. Then I saw it coming. The question. That look that says, ‘should I ask or just remain quiet’ type of look...

“Do you think...” he paused and stared at me with a weird hesitance--the type of hesitance that comes with asking someone out on a date.

“D-D-Do y-y-you think th-th-that you could p-p-possibly give me a ride home?”

He needed a goddam ride home! It was freezing outside so I couldn't say no. I told him to wait a minute because I had to use the restroom. I told the director of the meeting that I would be driving this gentleman home so another person would know my ‘whereabouts’ if this guy was a weirdo. He didn’t seem to be.

So I took him.

But for some reason, I couldn’t get the song, “You’re So Vain” out of my head. I need a reality check for real. Don't believe rumors you hear.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

The Side Effects of Caffeine

The funniest things are never caught on film. Madelene and I went shopping the other day and we got new stuff for our guest bathroom. We had purchased a new toilet seat with a cover and a little woven basket to hold things like nail files, cotton balls and whatever. We have an old bathroom so we needed to spruce it up to make it look more inviting. As Madelene was leaving for work this morning, she grabbed what looked like one of those children’s floaty devices for swimming pools. Having forgotten our toilet seat extravaganza, I asked, “What is that?” She turned around and just gave me a blank stare, hoping it would sink in momentarily. Then it did and we both started laughing so hard, that we could barely get her out the door. With the toilet seat inside a bag flung over her right shoulder, me still in my pajamas and my coffee on the ledge where I had placed it to let her out the door, we both tripped because of the weather sealant under our door. It buckled up, leaving both Madelene and myself on the floor still in hysterics.   Somehow, my cup of coffee made its way out too. Picture it: a toilet seat hanging out from a bag and brown watery stuff all over the outside floor.

“Pick it up! Pick it up!” I cried out in laughter, referring to the used toilet seat that was sitting besides her, now sticking halfway out of the bag.

My neighbors downstairs and across from me must have thought we were smoking something funny. It was just caffeine. My coffee lovers out there who want to know which bean did this: Italian Roast Extra Bold Starbucks. This stuff always kicks it up a notch or two. We’re hyper from the first sip into the wee hours of the midmorning. We could not stop laughing, even when I mopped up and came back inside, I went over to the window and still drew this funny moment out.

“Mad! What’s that in the bag?” I screamed out the window so the entire neighborhood could peek out as she was headed for the dumpster to rid of it once and for all.

Aside from this comical morning, we thought it was going to be below zero today. Apparently the weather people have their heads up their asses because it’s 22 degrees out. It can only go up from there. I know weather can’t be accurately predicted, but at least give us a ballpark range. I know it’s not a heat wave, but for the love of God---to scare us with below zero temps and have me promise everyone to film the whole ordeal with people bundled up to their foreheads in goose downs and skiwear, it’s just wrong.

And now, I am going to refill my cup of coffee and try to start my day in a lesser slapstick sort of way. Wish me luck!

Stay warm folks!

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Monday, January 12, 2009

Idling Mood Swings

I hate people today. I hated them yesterday too. In fact, it all started the night before last. Madelene and I had just finished dinner and moved into the living room to watch rerun episodes of House. It was snowing outside and the newscasters had predicted a big snowstorm that ended up being nothing more of an inch of fluff. City folk might appreciate it, but it was definitely amateur night for the native New York country bumpkins.

Although we’re pretty close to the city, we’re not exactly in the woods either. We live in a huge complex filled to the brim with people who were just plain sick and tired of the Bronx. If you ask one of the new owners or renters where they came from, you’ll be sure to get “Bronx” for an answer. They consider this to be the backwoods, compared to where they used to live. I know ‘backwoods’ living and was raised on a mountain a mile up high, where you could view three neighboring towns. There were no neighbors on either side. We were alone. We’d get the occasional bear or coyote passing by, but that made it all the more painful as I grew up being scared to walk outside. Therapy helped somewhat. “Well what’s the worst thing that can happen living there, Deb?” my therapist would ask, giving me that reverse psychology cognitive behavior therapy bullshit.

“Umm, I can be eaten?”

*blink*

These days, I could just get shot or mugged, but I’m sure a bear won’t be attacking me anytime soon. Back to what I was initially going to say: the night before last I had had just about enough with the contracted workers who plow our complex. I do realize they’re working the graveyard shift and trying to keep everyone safe as they remove snow from the streets and bounce it back up on the sidewalks so people can slip and fall and break their necks. As Madelene and I were midway through our show, I realized that there was a loud truck just sitting idle down below our window. I sat back down and continued watching television. One hour passed...  Two hours passed...  Three hours and my PMS kicked in. I got all “green” so I had an excuse to bitch and moan.

“You know, he’s putting off unnecessary emissions that are harming our planet!”  I said, sipping water out of my plastic bottle.

Madelene just stared at me and was fully aware that I was just annoyed because I would have problems sleeping later on if it continued. The last time one of these workers annoyed me, a guy was chiseling ice off our mailboxes at 3am. I mean really---who does that? I decided to end it quickly and swiftly. I got my laser pointer, and as he chipped away at those mailboxes at ***3am***, I pointed my laser light one foot away from his very own feet. I never saw a man run so fast in all my life. The chiseling stopped. I went to sleep...soundly.

I decided the same technique would work on this gentleman in the idling truck. His truck was parked so that his tailgate was facing our building. I pointed the laser near his window, but it didn’t do anything. I floated the laser down making a huge red circle on his massive yellow plow. He had to of noticed it.   Nothing.    Just an idle motor running and running and running. After the fourth hour, a bigger truck came by and dropped off a man, who got into the driver side seat of the idling truck.    There wasn’t even a man inside!

This morning, I’m on my third hour of hearing this idling truck once again. My mood is shot to hell. I hate people today.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

My Work History

Can I blame everything on Mercury, or is it just my life being so ass-backwards lately that nothing is going my way? Evne my spelilng hsa been jsut awful lately. My editor swings back my work and slaps me in the face about five times before it gets submitted for publishing. I really should consider waitressing or acting. Even as a waitress, I’ve always sent the wrong food to the wrong table, gave them potato salad instead of cold slaw and always forgot to include their artery clogging tarter sauce with their fish and chips. God forbid the wrong check was tossed on the wrong table. All hell broke loose or I would get a wink from the truck driver who received the $1.00 bill for his ribeye. He’d always come back on Tuesdays with a twinkle in his eye. The poor guy always had a little schmutz on his scruffy beard and a flannel shirt that reeked of gasoline and motor oil. I always wondered if he had a wife and family at home.

After my waitressing days and officially done with school, I went into the corporate world to give it a shot. They were so unified and even had their own little language like, “report everything to human resources” or “team player” and my personal favorite, “liquid lunches”. Human resources were any reservations you had left in your body---not bunch of catty women chained to their cubicles handing out demerits and bringing on board scared little soldiers to join “their team”. “You have to be a team player!” they chanted to all who were hired...and of course, eventually fired. They would escort you out of the building with two security men wrapped in each arm of the fired victim like a prisoner. Everybody had their face pressed against the window to watch the humiliated employee see his or her last day in the office of doom.

There’s gotta be something better than this...
And there was...
So I thought...

A call center. A call center for a phone and internet company that seemed to be, ....normal? My interview was even fun. They gave personality tests over the phone. One person would be in the other room and call you up in the little office they provided you with. She tested me on how well I handled a customer. Cool! Here’s the thing: you had to be in the union. All I ever knew and was brainwashed to think in the corporate world was: THE UNION IS EVIL. This is because no company wants a union to take over and dictate. I thought it would be quite the change so I tried it. The training was intensive and the people were very friendly and helpful. Although there were very difficult technical things to learn, they made it fun and after three months, it just clicked. You got it. You were flowing and ready to take 100 calls per day if need be.

After a while, then you got to know the company. It’s as cultish as the typical corporate world, only with a personality. Every Thursday, the union people were “advised” (forced) to wear red. Basically, if you didn’t wear a red shirt on Thursdays, then you were the enemy or buddies with someone in management. They had meetings after work and then of course, good ol’ happy hour at the local watering hole to humanize us up. (That was my favorite part.) Come February, one bitterly cold winter, we were on strike. We had to stand out in several locations in zero degree weather. I had to go out and find a goose down jacket with fur and hunting gloves---basically stuff you get if you plan to vacation in Antarctica. We had to stand out there for ***4*** hours! I had to wear two huge signs on me held by two strings. One sign in the front said one thing and when I turned around, it said another. I looked like a huge triangle with legs. Utility trucks would pass by honking because they were union workers too. We got “the nod” of approval and support. My brother-in-law who is also in the union passed around coffee and hot chocolate to all who were out there striking.

When I got home on my 4th day of striking, I came down with pneumonia without pay. This wasn’t my gig. Management started playing musical chairs and we weren’t getting the same humanness that we were used to. I opted out and played the “step game”. Those of you who are in the union know what this is. If you are sick one day, then you are on one step. You are officially allowed to take the entire five working days off and still remain on step one. Step two is if you call in within the next three months, you get another “week off”. Step three is tricky. If you go on this step it means you either may get fired or just a huge warning. So, every three months, I’d take a week off. Company morale was down and so was my tolerance for the inhumane treatment we were getting.

My last day there, I remember it clearly. It was 9am and I had just put my headsets on and booted my computer so I could take the first crabby caller of the day. I was in a pretty good mood, had my fill of coffee and was ready to take on the world. All of the sudden, I kept getting dizzy spells. Everyone kept warning me about the window seat and how the tower next to it outside was cancer causing. This always stuck in my mind...but I pressed on. Then, another dizzy spell came on. I went to my supervisor and asked if I could just take a 15 minute break to get some orange juice or water because I felt like I was going to pass out.

“NO! We are at 80% call volume and we need to be at 99.9%!!! We need you! You can do it!”

So, I tried. I went back, put my headsets on and then, woke up to a bunch of EMT workers putting an oxygen mask on me and slipping me onto a gurney. I was carried out of there---not even escorted out by two security men arm-and-arm. I thought that would be most humiliating, until this happened.

After my past work experience in the cubicle world of hell, I decided to write for a living and work from home. It took me almost 4-5 years to even make a living from it. And although it’s not that much, it sure beats living in a cubicle pod chained to a desk.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

On a "Lighter" Note...

It’s Wednesday morning and Madelene just left to go work. It was a rough night. I slept out on the couch. After a nice dinner and a game of scrabble, I had to go to the bathroom. I noticed that when I turned on the light, it lit up white--not the golden glow our lighting usually gives off. This lighting reminded me of a rigid florescent classroom or a cold warehouse. It was disturbing. I came back out and asked about the new bulbs. She gave me the box to the rest of them and it said, “cool natural lights”. They were GE energy smart bulbs. They last for five years. They save you money of course.

I’m all for saving a buck or two, but I am not going to put up with weird funky lights that make my eyes blur. I quit drinking--that alone should save us a bundle.  Then I went to switch on our patio light which glows inside our living room.

It was a yellowish-green color.

No.

On top of this putrid color, it had to warm up before getting to its potential brightness; much like a gymnasium lamp. I turned around silently and just stared at her, until the words, “You gotta be kidding me, right” muttered out.

“What? What’s wrong? It’s the same light we always get!”
“No it’s not.”
“It’s the same color...?”
She said in almost a questioning tone.

Madelene’s color blind. I’m not being mean, but she thinks brown is gray and blue is green. We have to do the “outfit check” before she walks out the door. I don’t mind, I just want to help. Clearly, these bulbs were not the same bulbs we use. If anyone knows me, they know that my lighting in my home is so important. It has to have a warm glow. Even our big colonial-like windows have little candle lights (not real) on the windowpane glowing out so that the outside can enjoy my ambience too. Certain lights in the condo need to be turned on or off depending on what’s going on, who’s over or if I’m making dinner, etc. I’m big on lighting--always was since I was a little girl. My mom had to get me a special light that glowed a warmth in my bedroom that needed to be mounted to the wall. I’m that picky.

But back to the argument which led to camping out on the couch: she thought that I was insinuating she was “cheap”. If anything, Madelene is more than generous with whatever she has and isn’t afraid to spend. She’s “smart”---not cheap. But, to rule out any possibilities of financial woes, I said, “If you’re trying to save money by installing these bulbs, we can just eliminate a few movie channels.” Personally, I never watch movies. If I do watch television, I put on TCM for entertainment or network channels for news and so forth. I hardly watch television anymore, I read instead or try to do things with Madelene besides veg out in front of the tube like a zombie.

“You think I’m cheap!” Madelene screams out, insulted by the comments I made about the bulbs.
“No! I was just making an observation about the white lighting in there. It reminds me of a classroom or office.”
“But it says, ‘cool natural lighting’.”
she says, thinking that’ll ease the pain.
“Cool means cold sometimes, which is how it feels.”
“It’s just as warm as the other bulbs we use.”
she tries to convince me.
No they’re not. Those bulbs are almost the same type of lighting my grandma had in her little kitchen in Brooklyn---those florescent twisty things on the ceilings that buzzed endlessly.”

It escalated.

Long story short: I grabbed an extra blanket, grabbed my two pillows, gave Madelene a sneer and headed for the couch. We both remained quiet for the rest of the night until the morning when we figured out that neither one of us got any sleep. We made up and we're now chatting on Facebook.  

Now with the ice storm we’re getting hit with, I hope the lights don’t go out on me!

Saturday, January 03, 2009

Be Careful What You Wish For...

In the past and not so far away, I use to be guilt stricken. I used to let it take over my entire life where I’d be doing everything and anything out of guilt. It could be so vaguely done that I didn’t even realize the reasoning behind it. I just thought it was something I had to do.

I don’t care anymore.

It sounds so selfish and cold, doesn’t it? “I don’t care anymore.” I say this in terms of doing things out of guilt, apologetic repetitiveness and the “assumed” right thing to do. But if I delve a bit deeper into the reasons why I do what I do, it might make a little more sense if I said, I did it out of selfish reasons; the total opposite reasoning of why I don’t care anymore.

I’ve muttered the words “I’m sorry” too many times. I’ve constantly begged for forgiveness from others, when in fact a simple “I’m sorry” would have sufficed.  After that, it’s up to that person to forgive me or not. Begging for forgiveness means “you’re not worthy and not a good person if the forgiveness isn’t granted” in our minds. So, why do we beg for forgiveness sometimes? In many circumstances, it’s for selfish motives. When you are forgiven, you feel better. The burden has been lifted. However, after you have genuinely and sincerely apologized, is it your job and mission to make sure that the apology was accepted to the full extent; to where forgiveness is given to you by the other person?

It’s out of your hands and into God’s. Let it go.

“I don’t care anymore.”

Say it.

Words have power. The more you say something, the more of a reality it becomes. “I just can’t get over this.”

“I’m over it.”

As I sat praying one day, I asked for a particular thing from God. I kept saying, “Why can’t I just get past this?”   He answered: “Say you are past it.”

How can I say something I don’t feel?

“Say it.”   He said.

And I did. I kept saying this for days until one day I woke up and was amazed at the lack of passion and feeling I had toward this particular matter.  I literally did not care anymore.

On New Year’s Day, my wife and I were sitting on the couch enjoying a cup of coffee and talking about this subject. I told her what had happened to me while praying. She looked at me almost puzzled and said, “I cannot believe you are bringing this up.” She went over to her little bible and pulled out a piece of paper with some literature on it.

She read it to me:

“It’s time you begin to undo some of the things you’ve done with your words. It’s time to get your words in line with God’s Word and release your angels. This prayer will begin that process: Father, in the name of Jesus, I repent of my ignorance of the Word of God. I ask You to forgive me of the foolish things I’ve prayed. **(And believe me, I have prayed for some foolish things!)** In Jesus’ name, I bind every word that has released the devil or drawn his weapons toward me. I bind every hindering force that I’ve ever given strength to by the words of my mouth. I break the power of those spiritual forces, in Jesus’ name.”

I thought for a moment about all of the things that I’ve been praying for this year and realized that some of them were not meant to be and were foolishly thought to be a decent thing to pray for. Of course it does say in the bible that if you ask your Father for something, that He will grant it to you.

If it’s not in God’s will and healthy for you (mentally or physically), then you might not see that come into fruition. Looking back years ago, I remember praying for something so hard and when it didn’t happen, I was angry at God and questioned if He even heard me at all. Hindsight 20/20, I realized that if I did get that request I had asked for, I’d be in so much trouble right now. My life would be completely different. So, I THANK GOD for not granting me that wish I once had.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

But also be thankful if that request doesn’t come through.  It might just save your life! Be careful what you wish for...it might just come true.

Friday, January 02, 2009

The Great Pressure Cooker: Our Tolerance

Some people can maintain their rage and anguish like a pressure cooker; steaming to the point right before the boiling process. They can maintain a level of sanity. But what if something goes wrong and it starts to boil over? This sturdy stainless steel device that was thought to be so strong, so sane, so “normal” literally and figuratively flipped its lid.

My fascination with human behavior always made me dig for the hidden desires and motives of other people. What makes them tick? What makes someone hurt another person? In worse case scenarios: what makes people kill? In my own views and beliefs, it was always thought to be a process of some type of human detachment; a way to separate oneself from emotional and physical well being of another person. I’ve also come to the conclusion that any form of rejection or isolation in younger years, as well as present time can conjure up the messiest types of purges through anger and resentment. For instance, look at all those shootings in schools all over the world. The one major description that fits 99% of the people doing the shootings was that they were all misfits; they just didn’t fit in with the others. They took their rage out on their victims as well as innocent people, including their own lives.
Their pressure cooker steamed over.

Is it genetics or is it a pattern of life’s circumstances that one had to put up with for so long...maybe for too long? Scientific studies can pinpoint the differences between a normal functioning brain against one who is a sociopath. However, there are exceptions to the rule. There’s always a loop hole with even thought to be the most sanest of people. Serial killers are thought to be reprobates and psychos. What if people knew them before their pressure cooker steamed over? You always get the next door neighbor giving their comment to the news reporter on television saying, “Oh he was just the nicest person around! I would never think he would...”

What about terrorists? What genetic code makes them want to go out and kill as well as take their own lives in the process? Suicide bombings are nothing new. They either do it for their God or do it for reasons of an unknown nature.

Nick, a wonderful blogger and friend had said in my previous comment section, “Many years ago, before thoughts about terrorism were as common as they are today, I attended at sociology lecture by a man who had been studying terrorism since the war for independence from France in Algeria. He made a comment that I have not forgotten: “Most terrorists would be terrorists even if they had no cause to die for.”

In my mind I think: there has to be a cause and a reason. There has to be a motive. Unfortunately, there are many people wired differently where they would go about things in a way where normal society would never think possible. Are they more passionate about things than we are? Maybe, we as Americans aren’t exposed to third world country type of situations as well as war and terrorism? Now that terrorism has come onto our soil, {ie: 9/11}, do we have the same mindsets as terrorists: retaliation, an eye for an eye, kill yourself in the name of “God”?

Is America’s pressure cooker coming to a boil? Or have we not seen the worst yet, in order to put our minds and actions to the test?