Images from a fractured mind Part 2 5/8

I went to church today, Sunday mass in Vietnamese.  It has been a very long time since I walked into a church, even longer since I actually attended a mass.  It’s not that I don’t believe, it’s just that I seem lost, having faith in nothing anymore.  I was born and raised Catholic; grade school, high school, even college. Several years ago I left the hypocrisy to search for the truth and found that the truth, many times was much harder to accept.  It is at that moment that I found that in my searching for answers to questions that I didn’t even know, is where I found (for the first time) my faith. I left the mass, not with the feeling that the ‘holy spirit’ has refilled my soul, rather, I felt sad and abandoned.  I saw two beggars at either side of the church gate as I left the grand Notre’ Dam Cathedral in Saigon.  I looked at them both and handed the one to the left 20,000 Dong and nothing to the man on the right.  I said nothing, didn’t look down and did not even turn around as the man’s weak frail hand, on the right, tugged at my pants leg saying something in Vietnamese. As I walked away, I thought to myself, and to whatever Deity was listening at that moment to my thoughts, What about him?  I could still feel him tugging at my pants leg a block later.  Will his brother share with him or will he keep it for himself. Did I just choose who would be saved and who would not or am I just testing man's station in life? I give to one to see if he gives or keeps my generosity. I wonder if the one who is left with nothing will accept his fate or will he fight to take from the other.  These thoughts run through my mind as I shake off the feeling of the beggars’ hand from my pants leg, now three blocks away,  as I am now filled with some sort of strange sense of accomplishment and satisfaction in creating conflict and chaos.  As I get back to my hotel, I take a seat in the Eames chare kick up my feet and look out the 16^th floor window on the church that I had just left, as I ponder the results of the seeds I just planted.

Who am I? Why doesn’t this bother me? 20 minutes ago I was sitting on a wooden bench at the corner of the Alter looking at the iconic statue of Mary ‘The Mother of God’ with a tear building up in my eye saying to myself “I miss my mother” and now I sit here in the 1500 dollar leather Eames chair in my executive suite safe from the dirt and noise and the unwashed without a care.  As I sink into the security of the leather chair watching the daylight fade to red, then purple and eventually black, I think to myself, well god, you created me, don’t ask me to apologize.  I am everything you made me to be, in your likeness and all that catechism crap.  Don’t blame me or judge me because I can manipulate the system. It takes balance to exist in this life, which means all good must be balanced with evil. One cannot appreciate ‘light’ if there is never ‘dark’.  It seems that within my own existence, my own internal psyche, I have created balance. So my dear friend, God, Allah, Yahweh, Brahma, Buddha, Ilbis, whatever you choose, you created me, you made the dark to balance the light, now accept it, I certainly have.  I think what bothers you, is that I know.  So where do we go from here? I use you and you use me, it’s a sick symbiotic relationship that cannot exist any other way.

images from a fractured mind Part 2 1/3

Is this Life? Is this what it’s all about; Sitting under a soot covered umbrella alone, yet surrounded by people, in the rain, on a concrete bench, waiting for the rain to come, only to be disappointed once again?  So I pick up my bag and start walking to my next meeting, I get about half way down the street and a huge crash of thunder opens up the sky and nothing short of the biblical Noah’s flood unleashes upon the city, as if God was mocking me as I try to gain shelter under a small vine covered trellis along the sidewalk. I am consumed by the surreal nature of what is unfolding in front of my eyes.  Noone is slowing down, bicycles, motorcycles riders alike reach for their ponchos and slip them over their heads without the slightest care or concern in the world.  The honking continues and the noise from the street is challenging the thunder claps from the belly laughing of God at his latest practical joke. Here I am in this foreign land isolated not so much by language, but by the cage that I have contained myself within, protecting me from the visitors that patron the zoo that is my life, or is it them that I am protecting from me?

This couldn’t happen while he was under the dry sanctuary of the multi- colored umbrella, that wouldn’t have been anywhere near as funny”, He says to Siddhartha, as they roll on the floor of  Ashoka blossoms holding their belly’s laughing. 

I look up into the black clouds as I here God and his pals getting a good laugh, “enough” I  say quite audibly, “you think this is funny? Get a load of this!” and headed out down the street as if it was a sunny summer day.  I walked straight across Nguyen Dinh Chieu with thousands of motorcycles honking their horns at me swerving to avoid running into me on the busy wet street.  I get the other side and make a b-line for Truong Dinh, and smile at the locals, who stared at me as if I was completely out of my mind; I said to them, “you see He needs me, so I’m not worried” and went along my merry way. 

“Well, I have to admit, I didn’t see that one coming, that just took all the fun out of it”, He said to Vishnu, “I think he is finally ready”, said Iblis.  “I’m not sure just yet”, He said, “let’s just wait and see a little more.”

images from a fractured mind Part 2

Sitting in Cong Vien Tao Ban, a park in the middle of Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon to everyone except tourists) on my way to the next meeting in a 5 day marathon of meetings and appointments.  The never ending sound of horns, motorcycles and cars that seems to fill every second of everyday pounds in my head giving a whole new definition to migraine. Thunder crashes overhead as the sky turns gray almost instantly. Sitting and drinking my tea waiting for the rain to come to wash away the filth, pollution and general discontent with my life. Several brightly colored umbrellas, or at least once brightly colored, now laden with a layer of black soot that fills every cubic inch of the air, offer shelter from the sun, and now in this case the rain. Dozens of people sitting, talking, people with lives much like mine. Most of these people probably have family, bills, jobs, stress and chaos in their lives’, yet seem to cope with it. Another thunder crash, still no rain, still no break in the constant barrage of noise coming from the street. I find myself slowly being lulled to sleep by what sounds like Tuvan Throat Singing, as I realize the harmonies of the motorcycles over the cars and the horns, I seem to have finally after five days have gone beyond the noise and chaos and achieved harmony, or maybe it’s the 90 degree heat and 90% humidity and the fact that I have been in 3 different countries in the last 8 days.  I begin to doze off for a brief moment hoping for the rain to come contemplating is it all worth it? What brought me here anyway? Is there something more in life than working to make money to pay bills to run new bills up to work more to….you get the picture.  I pull out a popped rice cake from my bag, and then a second. A hint of ginger lingers within the sweetened puffed rice. It hits the spot enough to quell my hunger for now, but I seem to still be wanting, or more like needing more.  Not food or drink, but something to fill the insatiable emptiness inside.  Finally!  The rain begins to fall, ever so lightly, the people sitting out in the open under the trees don’t even notice, maybe just don’t care.  One drop then two then another hit the stone plaza with a random sense of order.  One umbrella stands alone with no one taking shelter under it.  It’s nice to sit in the rain, then suddenly it stops, as quickly as it began, it was gone, never living up to its potential, never realizing what it could have been. For now, only a few tears from the angles to suggest that all that we know is that we know nothing and all that we see is merely illusion.

Broken Pormises

another cold night so pour me a drink and make it a strong one, I've given up the fight and lost all control
you find that the people you trust you can only trust just a little, and the people you love you don't even know.

So I stop to think about the broken promises, the dreams I've lost and the lies I've told, with my eyes wide open I let it all slip away.  I remember the good times, the bad times and the times in the middle, I wish I could have remembered to ask you to say.

This is where I hide a lifetime of memories.  Convincing myself that I'm better off alone. I'm to tired to stand up now and two proud to fall, I wish I would have turned around and gone back home.

The days turn to weeks, the weeks become years and the years become a lifetime, before you find out where you are, you've been there to long. Now the echos of voices fall silent and their only the ghosts in my mind, as I look to find all the familiar faces gone.

And this is where I hide my lifetime of promises, I've locked them up deep inside a frozen tear away. I'm to tired to stand up now and to proud to fall, I wish I would have asked you to stay.

redemption

I'm lost and afraid to find the truth, because the truth is to hard to take, with all of these hidden lives and blind mistakes. All this time, seems like a test of life, or is life the test of time, as we close our eyes, hearts and minds...and it's hard to believe when you have faith in nothing...and I find myself wandering, searching for a sign...and I don't believe in fate, but I seem to hope for chance, or maybe, I'm just blind.

I thought I found God and I tried to believe, but it was just a waste of time.  I've seen the wars, hate and lies.  So now I've come down, broken and scarred and I tried to hide my fears, but then slipped and fell through the years...and it's hard to believe when you have faith in nothing...and I find myself wandering, searching for a sign...and I don't believe in fate, but I seem to hope for chance, or maybe, I'm just blind.

I tried to love, but couldn't shed a tear, there's just nothing left inside.  Now I walk alone afraid to find the way, because redemption take some time.

images from a fractured mind

One Step Closer To The Edge

One step Closer to the edge, I'm tired of pushing back these days, the fight is gone. One more step will ease the pain, I'm so empty inside, so I close my eyes.

Looking back at all the years, as a child I was taught to have faith.
They taught me how to feel good, then they took my pleasures away.
I was born knowing how to laugh and then they taught me how to hate,
so I tried to close my eyes.

I always thought of them as heros, how they could stand in front of the crowds and shout.
Now those heros have caused all my pain, and left me broken and full of doubt,
So I closed my eyes

And then the light fades and I feel the cold flowing through my veins,
and I floating helplessly, in and out of time.
I wish I could remember how it feels, to walk in the rain.

Images from a fractured mind part 1 and 1/2

The number 42 seems to be stuck in my alleged brain, perhaps just a mild throwback to Douglas Adams “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe” or perhaps my upcoming birthday in four months and two days…wow, that’s a 4 and a 2 weird huh….Have I mentioned I am a bit A.D.D. for those who don’t know what the is it means attention deficit disorder, never been diagnosed but I have noticed how easily it go sideways on a conversation… like now for instance....where was I,  I say that to the little voice inside me. You know that little voice that is suppose to keep your mind on topic.  The one that you talk to when your alone or, the one that talks to you when you’re playing cards, or working on a presentation that you don’t really want to be working on, or sacrificing chickens to the voodoo spirits or…well you get the idea, I mean I don’t do anything crazy like playing cards but you still get the idea…

where was I again?

….42 that’s right. I am not sure if it’s a sign or if I am being overly perceptive, however in my fortune cookie at lunch, my lucky numbers are 4,7,9,11,22,31, 42 add 4 and 7 and 31 and you get 42, add 9, 11 and 22 and you guessed it or your just good at math, 42. Mileage on my car 194,042…can you believe I have almost gone 200,000 mile in a ford? That has got to be some sort of record…sorry, A.D.D kicking in…, arrived at work today at 7:42, 42 junk mail in my inbox, mostly porn sites and Viagra offers…think someone’s trying to tell me something. Clearly Douglas Adams was correct, 42 is the answer to life’s question, but what is the question is the question…that doesn’t make sense the question is what is the question???

These are the things that run through my alleged ADD Mind at lightning speed as I try to focus for a brief few moments at my pressing daily activities, but let’s worry about that later back to my story…I died last night didn’t I, if so what the hell am I doing in Phoenix Arizona working for a small architectural firm run by an insane type ‘A’ plus a million personality disorder? Today in the staff meeting he went around the room saying good things about everyone at the table, finding just the slightest positive thing he could to each and every one of us…oh wait, except me, skipped right by me boss, what about the 250K fee I just brought in the door, saving pretty much everyone’s ass last month, no, how about the 20 hours overtime I put in to get that design proposal out last week, ya know I worked right through the weekend for you, no, nothing huh…of course at this time in my life, I have no balls whatsoever, so as loudly as I was thinking this nothing, not a sound at all came out of my mouth….I believe this speaks volumes to me.

This guy is the king at head games, I have never met anyone like him. It’s like he has a massive orgasm every time he fucks with someone’s head, even better is he’s able to break them, sick bastard….God I love this guy! Not sure if he knows that I get it or if just hopes I get it. It’s not what is said but rather what is not said that speaks the most for a person. He knows that I know that I am doing what he expects, and he knows that I know that I do not take compliments well nor do I appreciate them, compliments and soft soap ore for the week and insecure. 

Meetings over, and once again he goes on my list of people that can kiss my ass today… but what about last night, didn’t I die? So if I died, why am I here? My family and friends all see me as a relatively stable, successful upper middle class role model. Have a bunch of kids, lost count after 3, nice home in la de da la de da North Scottsdale, two cars two dogs two cats, two birds, two lizards…WOW, what is with the twos , who am I, Noah! What is success, am I successful cause I have this stuff, or because I fit into some sort of predefined mold. How is it that I remember dying yesterday so vividly and clearly, but my own family and friends seem like a dream, what is real, what the hell was I talking about….Oh God, now my A.D.D. has A.D.D


Thursday afternoon sitting in an airport bar at LAX, waiting to catch my flight back home. I started up a conversation with this lady sitting next to me, pretty attractive, long dark hair, sort of Italian looking with dark eyes, probably my age, but wearing her 40 something’s much better than me. Don’t know what possessed me to talk to her, most of the time I keep my head down and continually debate the worlds of chaos streaming around in my brain, but next thing I knew we were at a table having another drink an talking about childhood, something about her face was so familiar, I swear I’d seen her somewhere before. I told her about my first girlfriend Michelle, we were just two kids holding hands in the snow covered parking lot of St. Anselms Elementary school... really? I thought, what does she care about my first girlfriend, but she seemed genuinely interested. So I went on about what an idiot I was and if I only knew then what I know now I would have never been such a jerk. “I’m sorry, she said, that’s my flight, I need to go, it was really nice seeing you again John….and she left. Wait! How did she know my name, I never told her my name, what the hell! I had to know, so I charmed the bartender into looking at credit card receipt and give me her name, worked like a charm, after I handed her 20 bucks, she wouldn’t give me the last name but she said the first name was Michelle… ”attention all passengers southwest flight number 42 to phoenix has been delayed….”. Thanks god, you really love to fuck with me don’t you?

The funny things about dreams, you never know how you got to where you are in the dream, you just seem to be and then your somewhere else and you accept it, well at least your mind accepts it as totally rational.

Two days have passed since the staff meeting where my boss tried to screw with my head, and I have with absolutely no Idea what has happened over the last 48 hours. I am trying to remember how and why I was at LAX. I don’t have any projects there and every time I fly to California, I typically go to San Diego or San Jose, so How did I get to LAX and what have I done since the Monday morning liars club meeting…Monday morning Liars club was a pet name I gave to our weekly staff meeting, based on pretty much everything said in the meeting was a lie and was designed to cover your ass. So it’s Wed. afternoon I’m at LAX and…ADD again …. All of a alarms go of, what’s going on, who opened a door they weren’t suppose to…. what the……

Tuesday morning, not again, you have got to be kidding me….Well at least I didn’t die last night, that happened two nights ago….oh great now that’s gonna stick with me all day.

Images from a fractured mind - Part 1

And thus I have begun, it is my hope that this life may prove to be more favorable than the last. If nothing else, I have taken with me from my previous experiences, along with the faded memories and overexposed desires, the lesson that as long as I continue to search for THE answer, I will never truly understand the question. So here I begin, in search of no answers to life’s mystery, rather seeking to understand the question. The answer is easily uncovered once the correct question has been formed.


The most clear first memory, is also apparently the last of the time before…. It was a relatively normal day as far as weather goes, however the war had waged on and today’s battle seemed to be particularly bloody. The sporadic familiar sound of gun fire rang in my ears and the smell of gunpowder, blood and death lingered in the humid air. Through, what was once a door, I caught a glimpse of a soldier, perhaps half my age, clearly weary, yet somehow regal in his brilliant red uniform. I stared for a moment rather amazed at the scene out in the yard. Bodies fell like the autumn leaves from the great oak on the town square. Chaos, but a sense of order about it, almost musical but then random and out of time. My mind drifted to better times for only a brief moment, but ling enough to be exposed, his reaction was expected when seeing the enemy in your sights. I fell to the floor to load my weapon; I looked to take aim as did he. The shot, the sound, the smoke the smell, I saw him clearly, my weapon had discharged, smoke swirled into the air form the end of the barrel, but smoke came from his as well. I felt no wound, saw no blood, I breathed in, but could not, and I died at that moment…

The alarm clock pieced the silence of the darkness, 6:00 AM winter time so it was still dark outside, the light in the bathroom made me close my eyes to adjust, as I opened my eyes and looked at myself in the No just another dream. This morning like most in my coherent conscious life was uneventful, shower, fight the rush hour traffic on the way to the office, stop for a coffee, have a brief chat with the local merchants and then finally arriving at the office. Just one more thing to add to the general confusion of my day. I have been at this juncture in my life more times than I care to remember, but today seemed particularly odd…I died last night, I think I did, maybe not, it all seems a bit strange.

I Have the Most Brillient Daughter in the World - Part 2

Okay, so this is "Sarah's Soapbox" Round Two.


What brought this about? Well, I got annoyed with a news article and sent an email to my Dad who is an architect currently working in Singapore. The title of that email was something along the lines of "On my soapbox" which is how I refer to the pseudo-political rants constantly fermenting in my brain.

This morning I opened my inbox only to find a dozen inquiries from total strangers - "Hey, can I subscribe to "Sarah's Soapbox"?"

No, you cannot. There is no soapbox.

I should know, because I'm the Sarah who's supposed to be standing on it. To clear up any confusion - Yes, I am only 26 years old. I am not a student. I currently hold an MA in History (that would be 6 years of study, 2 - 10 years short of a Doctorate of Philosophy, depending on whether you prefer to take the suicide route or the scenic route through graduate school).  I have used my basically useless degree to acquire the exceptionally low-paying job of my dreams in a small town in Texas (Hollywood it is not). I work as a museum curator,

I enjoy fencing (with swords), classic science fiction, philosophy, theatre, photography, skating, computers, theoretical physics, cooking, archery, cartoons and snowboarding. Until recently, I lived in Seattle which is my favorite US city. I was unable to find a decent job, so I resorted to working at a Domino's Pizza for about eight months until I decided to relocate.

I have previously lived in Gunnison Colorado, Moscow Idaho, Cambridge UK and La Maddelena, Sardenia. I have insufficient respect for any authority and my current roommates include a german shephard and an exceptionally stupid seven foot boa constrictor named "Leonard".

The phrase "on a soapbox" dates back to the 19th century when soap was still packed in sturdy wooden crates which people could actually stand on. In the days before blogs and social networking sites, opinionated assholes (and geniuses) actually had to physically get up in front of thier peers.

I believe what I believe and I am not afraid to say it. If you don't approve, you may pelt me with rotten fruit just like they did in the old days. God knows that Youtube could certainly use a few crates of moldy tomatoes. Ditto for CBS News.

I've decided that need a coffee mug with a picture of Socrates on it - done up like one of those motivational posters. The caption would read

"Philosophers - In ur base, killing ur ideas."

http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/in-ur-base

If this makes no sense to you - it's probably because you don't play video games. Personally, I find shooting things to be incredibly therepeudic, and when I can't enjoy filling a haybale full of arrows from my Hungarian bow, I'll settle for firing a virtual rocket launcher at a patch of terrorist pixels.

But I digress. People seemed to enjoy my first rant, so here's another one. This is a touch more personal and makes heavy use of this thing called LOGIC that our government is clearly terrified of.

I think I mentioned free medical treatment briefly in my rant about immigration. Frankly, I can't even begin to express how absurd "Obamacare" is - the system was clearly devised by individuals who have no understanding of basic economics.

Medical care is bloody damned expensive, and if doctors must treat more patients without pulling in more money - you can bet anything that the quality will go downhill. Early modern medicine was so bad that most people preferred not to call a doctor until they were certain that they were going to die.

Let's do a little story problem here. Pretend that I have $5.00.

With this $5.00 I am told to buy a bottle of asprin which has twenty pills in it.
I am told to give these pills to anyone who comes in to my clinic with a headache.
Five people come to me with headaches. Each person gives me $1.25 and I give them four pieces of asprin.
I now have $6.25. I use $5.00 to buy another bottle of asprin for my patients and I take the remaining $1.25 to pay my own paycheck and my bills.

But then heathcare becomes free. I still only have $5.00, which is enough to buy one bottle of asprin.
Ten people come to me with headaches. Five can pay, the rest cannot.
Each of these ten people demands four pills. But I only have twenty pills to give out.

I could buy a second bottle of asprin, but I can barely afford the asprin I've already bought. If I don't want a riot, my only choice is to give each person only two asprin and tell them that two is all they need. Let's call this "The Soviet Option".

Alternatively, I can raise the cost of the aspirin from $1.25 to $2.50 - but only for the people who can pay. That way, when my five paying customers come in, I can use thier money to buy asprin for those who can't afford it. This is "The IRS Option".

So is "free" medicine actually free?

No. Logically speaking, free medicine is impossible.

Uh oh. I used the "L" word, didn't I? Looks like I won't be up for reelection.

There isn't a single government agency in this country which efficiently does its job. A federal medical system will most certainly operate with all of finesse of FEMA. Just think, we have so much to look forward to!

And please do ignore the fact that there are already free clinics in this country which will treat patients who cannot pay. Here's an example of one. I have been there myself, and it was not too bad.

http://www.countrydoctor.org/

But universally "free" medicine for the public good? Equal care for everyone? Sounds a bit like an Orwellian party line, doesn't it? Before we buy into this crap, we'd best remember that some animals will always be "more equal" than others - and that someone always has to foot the bill. If you work, that "someone" will be you.

Of course, what we currently call medical care is also a tremendous scam - right up there with presidental elections, Nigerian emails and insurance sales.

If you make under $20,000 (like me) you cannot afford to carry medical insurance. Hell, you probably can't afford car insurance, but you've got to have that. If you are uninsured, the warning I received when I first moved to Italy also applies in the US. Put simply, DON'T GET SICK.

I've chosen to make medicine the topic of my second "soapbox" for personal reasons.

You see, I currently have an eye infection. I correctly diagnosed my condition, threw away my contacts and applied first aid procedures. When the infection refused to clear up on its own, I realized that I would need antibiotics.

If such a thing were available over the counter, I would have bought a bottle days ago. But of course, drugs can't simply be made available to consumers!

And why? Because consumers will abuse drugs, use them incorrectly and take things they shouldn't without reading warning labels. Even relatively harmless drugs must be accessed only through a vast bureucratic chain.

All pharmaceudical companies know that the Average American is far too stupid to figure out what kind of medicine he needs.

Personally, I get sick only twice a year, usually once with strep or bronchitis and once with a sinus infection or eye infection of some kind. I have never gotten a flu shot and have not had "the flu" since I was in elemetary school. I am a healthy person. I excersize and I eat well. And let me tell you, when I get the same damned infection every year at the beginning of allergy season - I know what I have. I can feel an eye infection coming on like I'm staring into the headlights of a Mack truck. I know that I need Ciprofloxacin - taken one drop every two hours for seven days.

But I can't go get that for myself. A doctor must tell me that I need it. Just as a doctor must tell me that I need Zithromax when I get a sinus infection because I am allergic to penicillin.

Now this is the ridiculous part. How many people are completely honest with thier doctors?

"Doctor - I have been dieting/exercising/watching my cholestrol/sugar? Doctor - I haven't been smoking/drinking/having unprotected sex?"

Think about it. Does anyone actually mark "yes" at the hospital when they ask you to check whether or not you are an alcoholic? Of course not! Alcoholics check "no" on that box! The same goes for "recreational drugs". Even if you do them, you never admit it - not unless you've been hospitalized for an overdoes. And if your doctor tells you that you've contracted an STD, you always tell him that you were being careful. Even if you know damned well that you weren't.

But you can't medicate yourself, even if you do know more than your doctor does.

You don't have that right. The doctor makes the call on what you "need".

And fairly soon you won't have the right to elect what kind of medical treatments you would like either. Can universal health care pay for everyone's lasik? Who needs a nose job or liposuction? I'd sure like to have laser surgery done myself - if I didn't have to wear contacts 24-7, I'd probably have a lot less trouble with eye infections.

So, I had an appointment at 2:45 today. After signing away my soul and writing a check for $82.00 (which is a substantial chunk of my bi-weekly paycheck) - I waited more than an hour for a ten minute consultation with the doctor. The doctor took one look at me and said "You have an eye infection. You need Ciprofloxacin."

I pointed out that this was the reason I'd made my appointment in the first place. I had drawn two columns on my paperwork when I arrived, one titled "symptoms" and the other "diagnosis/treatment".

The doctor tells me I can pick up my prescription at the pharmacy. Again, I have no insurance. The cost of that miniscule bottle of eyedrops is $47.16.

Total cost of an eye infection - $129.16
Time invested - 3 hours
Percentage of Sarah's bi-weekly paycheck - 21%

Consensus? - If medical care gets any worse than it already is, we're all going to die..

Good evening, everyone.

I'm glad to be of service to the thinking people of cyberspace.

- Sarah

The Pain

I once was passionate, however my passion caused pain, so I became hard, and cold, and my frigidness became my fear.
I chose to become loving, then my love cause me anguish, so I became angry.  I let my anger consume me and I became lost. 
Now I wonder the paths laid befor me, no longer angry, no longer afraid, my pain has left me and my anguish subdude, but I wonder, still lost, searching for the truth, still lost, but content. 
Then I thought I had found the truth, but it disapointed me, it made me empty and left me alone.
I have rejected my eternity to retain my mortality, now existence is past and once again I am searching,
not for the truth,
but for passion...

the circle begins again.

I have the most brillient daughter on earth

If our government didn't give so many handouts to people who don't work - immigration wouldn't be an issue. I've got no problem with anyone who puts in an honest day's labor and pays their taxes.


If you were an Irish immigrant in 1890, you were lower than dirt. People were a lot more blunt about their distaste for immigrants in the late 19th century (lots of signs used to read "No Irish Need Apply"). My ancestors (Slovenian and German) worked hard, learned English and became legal citizens. And they did all this without food stamps or welfare.

Anybody who wants to do these things should be welcome in the US. But you MUST do them. Albert Einstein was sworn in when he immigrated to the US. Everyone who arrives should be.

Want to create some jobs in our lousy economy? Start processing everyone at the border - give them a visa for one year. Make them eligible for employment, but do not give them unemployment, welfare or free medical care. If they want to work, let them. If they want to leech - screw them!

For too long the US government has operated like a broken ATM machine, spewing money at anyone who demands it. Is it any surprise that our country is bankrupt?

Most other countries in the world require all immigrants to be contributors. If you think it is hard to be a US citizen, you should try moving to New Zealand! If you aren't "useful" - you won't be allowed to stay.

I have lived abroad where I did not speak the language and I know how hard it is to get a job under those circumstances. When I asked what to do if I got sick in Italy, I was informed "don't". I was told that it would be almost impossible to get a doctor's appointment if I was not a citizen.

Meanwhile, in the US there are clinics that will give you medicine free of charge if you go in and tell them that you make less than a certain amount of money a month. They don't even ask for any proof that you need the free service - or proof that you even have a job. I know because I have attempted this myself to see if it was actually true.

What makes me furious is when money comes out of my paycheck so that the government can provide care for people who are too lazy to work (a severe handicap is a different issue - but being "fat" is not a handicap). I hate supporting lazy people when they are US citizens, and when they aren't even here legally... that makes it worse.

Sure, immigration is expensive. But so is paying a coyote to sneak you across the Mexican border! On average, they charge over $1000 - $2000 per person! To the best of my knowledge, those are old statistics - it's probably more expensive now that security has been ramping up.

I have a lot more respect for the person who sells their few belongings and packs up like my ancestors did, leaving their old country behind for good to make a new home in America. Regardless of whether they arrive on a boat or hoof it across the Sonoran desert - anyone who comes with the genuine intention of working hard for a better life should be welcome in America.

Has anyone heard the phrase "old country" recently? It used to be that all of the elder generations would use it. Ireland was "the old country". Poland was "the old country". Turkey was "the old country".

I've worked with a few immigrants in the past, most of them older than fifty. And in that generation, the sentiment of "the old country" is still very strong.

Russia "the old country" - "Oh my got," Vladimir would say "Sarah, let me tell you about..."

About getting shot at for stealing apples out of a government-controlled orchard?

About highways so often unpatrolled that a collision killed everyone in both cars because no police or ambulence would come when called? "In America, never happen." Vladimir brought his family from a little town near the border of Georgia twelve years ago. His daughter is a banker, very successful. One of his sons is a championship martial artist. He works two jobs, driving limo and delivering pizzas. His wife is a substitute teacher.

Pakistan "the old country" - According to Aamer "The government turns off the power when the people are not doing what they want. No water, no power. You don't know how long. The apartment I live in now? A palace, in my old country." He came to the US about four years ago with the clothes on his back and very little money in his pockets. He works construction as he attends community college.

Vietnam "the old country" - "In my old country, I spent six years in a government camp. Sometimes there is no food, then they do not feed you at all." Canh has been in the US for more than twenty years. He came as a refugee following the Vietnam War, got a job and never went back.

Iraq "the old country" - and I quote "I'd rather be in prison than anywhere in my old country."

Ismael, a "survivor of three wars" also delivered pizza until recently, when he was in a car accident. It was discovered that he has a heart defect and he expects to recieve surgery soon, a thing which he would never have had access to in "the old country".

But is Mexico "the old country"? For some it is.

A friend of mine is a second generation immigrant. He speaks Spanish and English with equal fluidity. He attended American high school and has the same experiences as any American-born kid. He may prefer soccer to football, but you'd be hard pressed to call him a foreigner.

Still, large numbers of immigrants seem to think that they should turn most of the US into Mexico rather than embrace their new home. They protest American issues waving Mexican flags - failing to recognize, perhaps - that they are no longer in "the old country".

And of course, the Mexican government gets up in arms whenever anyone criticizes these immigrants because they enjoy the fact that they are funneling money earned in America back into Mexico.

I used to live in an apartment building occupied by Mexican, Indian and Somali immigrants. Since I was actually born in the US, I was a real rarity there. People constantly marveled that they didn't understand why I couldn't find a better, higher paying job.

I spoke English, I knew how to use computers... I'd even gone to college! But America is no longer the "land of opportunity" for those who work. It's the "land of opportunity" for those who NEED.

"Give us your tired, your hungry, your poor" used to mean that those people would be handed shovels and mops right off the boats. They would have the opportunity to earn a living - if they busted their asses. But now, busting your ass is no longer mandatory. The US government has become the world's largest charitable organization.

If someone gets arrested for a crime and is found to be illegal, deport them. Why should American workers pay to feed them in jail? Did you know that people in prison complained when their cable service was cut off? I work more than fifty hours a week and I can't afford cable! Why should criminals have it? It's not a necessity!

What is then? Food, water, shelter. That's it. Anything above and beyond those three things is something you want - not something you truly need. Personally, I don't believe that there's anything wrong with feeding criminals bread and water and letting them sleep on piles of hay - but that's another issue.

The point I'm trying to make is that we should check people - not only when they are arrested, but any time they are looking for handouts.

If someone applies for government services of any kind - food stamps, etc. check their immigration status. If someone is hospitalized, check their status.

It doesn't matter what color they are or what kind of accent they have. There are a ton of illegal Canadians living in the US too - who knows why?

Maybe because we keep giving people stuff for free.

I have no insurance, no internet service or t.v. I make less than $20,000 a year. I survive because I work - and if I ever stopped working, I'd stop having food to eat. That's how it should be.

Religions of man, just man made

Belief in a god or spirit of higher level of existence has nothing to do with religion anymore. Religion has gone down the path of politics. It may have started out as a good idea, but has become so corrupt due to the failings of the human ego, that the message has gotten lost.


If we are truly placed here, by the Christian way of thinking, by god, with free will, then why should we pray? Why ask god for help? If he intervened in your life, wouldn't that take away from free will? I never said I don't believe in god, I just don't believe in religion anymore.

Every religion claims to be right and condemns the other, what they don't understand is that they are all the same, and the only correct religion is none. Religions of man are just that...man made. The Bible, Koran, Dead Sea Scrolls and so are a collection of stories made up by a bunch of self righteous priests, prophets and kings, the self proclaimed moral leaders in an effort to re-shape mans thinking to match their own perverted view of righteousness. They invent rules and subsequently punishment for breaking the rules, in order to control the masses, to expand their influence, so they can become more powerful then the next group of misguided hypocrites.

Let's face it, the Supreme Being is existing in his plane of reality watching all of the worlds that he put into motion, and when he gets board, he'll pack up all his toys and take a nap.

my reflections in the dark

You look at me as if I’m some sort of hero, but I’m really just a frightened child


I try to show that I’m in control, but I’m just lost inside

It’s been so long since I closed my eyes and dreamed……of better times.


They tell me it’s time to come home now, but I have too much left to do.

And in the darkest days I have left standing…… I want to spend every minute with you.

Given the choice when I’m face to face with God, I’ll still choose…..to come back to you.


The worlds spinning out of control and I’m running on fumes

You know I’ll travel a million miles to find a way to come back to you,

I’ll come back to you.


I haven’t slept for a thousand years now and they take my hand to show me which way to go

In our journey as the darkness fades, I just don’t know if their demons or angels

I gave up eternity, now I just ask for one more chance, a chance to dream….. of better times.