Humanity
“Evil is a point of view” Anne Rice
I’m not Evil, I was just Drawn That Way
A Woman
Can be
Many things
Curvy
Feminine
Sexy
Calculating
Manipulative
Evil
Promiscuous
Slutty
Trollopy
A Woman is also
A
Mother
Sister
Wife
Lady
Dame
Queen
Treat her right
A woman can be
Giving
Loving
Romantic
And forever Yours
“Never apologize for being nerdy, because unnerdy people never apologize for being assholes”
John Barrowman
The Nerd In Me
My Glasses,
A band-aid as quick fix
My Teeth
Dental braces for the glitches
I am awkward
Sometimes scared
A social coward
Of everything
and everyone
Over analyzing
Constantly thinking
But
I am also
Stalking you
Admiring you
Too Afraid
to approach you
Standing in the narrow corridor
Staring in awe
From a far
There you are
Suddenly
Walking towards me
I try to hide
No place to run
No where to flee
As you approach
I try to look away
Hoping you won’t notice me
Standing there
I feel the need to pee
Panic attacks
Breath caught
Eyes scanning
Nothing in planning
I am caught
I hear
“There you are!”
Not a word
Escapes my mouth
Standing there
Staring in silence
“Hello”
You say
“Hel- lo”
I try
Stepping closer
No hesitation
You say
“Just kiss me already!”
” *Friend request accepted* Let the stalking begin! “
Stalking is such a Strong Word. Let’s call it… Social Research!
Checking your home page
For the umpteenth time
I must have been in a haste
For no updates I find
Just because
My favourites
Are in the ‘Ks’
And my followers
Are in the nays
You may think
I stink
And am
A
Stalker?
Prowler?
Fan Girl?
Just because my toes curl?
Admirer maybe
From a far of course
Devote
And the Art to endorse
Buff or a Rooter
But not a suitor
I hope you are not offended
As I await here expended
And I’d rather
You called me an other
Name,
Without the blame
A
Researcher
of the Individual
Now,
Why did you not
Answer on the spot
To my ping?
“I’m not even on drugs, I am just weird” Alex Gaskarth
Simply, Weird
Bizarre
Curious
Eerie
Highly Extraordinary
Mismatched
Odd
Peculiar
Still Familiar
Scratchy
Sinful
Strange
Only Natural
Queer
Unusual
Uncanny
Seriously Virtuous
Unearthly
Weird
Whacked
Still, very very Wicked
Or am I simply,
A Special Edition?
“Sometimes I listen to strangers’ conversation and mentally give my opinion”
Eavesdropping? No, just socially investigating!
“By George we made it!” Emma shouted in victory.
“I thought we were lost there for a moment, but here we are. And all in one piece!” Marc added dusting off his jacket.
“Too bad we lost George.” Emma was feeling sorry for the poor guy.
Marc looked at Emma and with a sad voice answered: “The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few.”
“Or the one!” Emma added.
Marc hugged Emma as they were standing, both looking into the distance, thoughts on their lost comrade.
***
I was on my way to work, when I stopped by the coffee shop. Waiting for my order I glanced around the place and noticed three intriguing characters in the farthest corner table. Two men and a woman, obviously deep in conversation, planning something from the looks of how they were positioned. Huddled together, serious yet fierce expressions on their faces and looking like they were plotting something.
Being of a curious nature, interested in all human relations, I took a few steps closer, trying to catch a glimpse of what they were talking about.
“This has to go down today!” The woman said loud enough for me to hear from my position.
I was hooked. I inched even closer and secretly hoped my order would take a while to complete.
“Did you check the weapons, made sure we have enough ammo?” The other man asked from the one sitting opposite him.
“All checked boss! I also added an extra ingredient, just to spice things up! Can’t wait to see the other guys’ faces when they get hit!” He responded with a smirk on his lips.
‘Boss, hit, guns?!’
Some kind of heist or mob hit in the planning I wondered. I was shaking a little. The threesome sitting around the table did not look like robbers or mob members, rather like nerds or students. But never judge a book by it’s cover.
The woman then took something out from her bag and laid it on the table. It looked like a map of sorts.
“Are we all clear on our positions at the final stage.” She was pointing at something on the paper to the others.
“What if I change my stance here rather than here.” The other man asked the woman and the one he had called boss.
“No!” The woman raised her voice again. Clearly the other man had been wrong about who the real boss was.
She then continued, “No deviations! We will all stick to the plan as agreed before.”
The man just nodded.
“Excellent!” The woman responded, “Now as to the next…”
Her voice faded to the sounds of new customers coming in to the shop. A loud soccer team had just entered the premises and I could not hear the threesome’s conversation.
And then, my name was called out from the counter. My order was ready.
Pondering whether to ignore it and try to stay a while longer. Then again, it would look suspicious, if I would stand there with my coffee and bagels in my hand. Reluctantly I decided to leave. Maybe there was something in the newspaper tomorrow I could read about. After all, I was no detective, nor law officer. Just an eavesdropper on her way to work!
***
Emma and Marc were standing at the top of the hill holding their guns. They had finally won a battle.
“Poor George!” Marc was looking down at his friend, laying non moving down by the bushes.
“He was brave, right to the end!” Emma credited his fallen friend.
“Guys! A little help, please!” A voice shouted from below.
Emma and Marc looked at each other. Then started their way down the hill. They reached their destination and remained standing there, neither making an effort to help.
“Guys? I am dying here!”
“Well, it’s your own fault!” Marc told him.
“Yeah, you failed to follow the plan and got hit. Right in the forehead no less!” Emma berated him.
“Sorry, guess I should have cut back on the doughnuts!” Was the response of the fallen man, “I felt the energy draining away from me as I was running after you guys.”
Marc offered his hand to his friend and helped him up.
“George, you are a mess. You have paint all over your face!” Marc looked at the dirty face of his friend who had been hit by multiple paint pellets.
“Well, our team still won!” George replied with a big grin.
“We sure did George, we sure did!” Emma patted George on the back, “Thanks for taking one for the team!”
“Now, let’s go and celebrate our victory! Donuts anyone?” Marc added.
“Hear, hear!” The other two replied in unison.
“When I was kid, my social network was called ‘outside’ “
Back in time
This is the work one of pure fiction. Neither polar bears nor reindeer were harmed in the creation of this literary process!
The year was 1924.
Longitude and latitude: Somewhere up north, thataway! The Finnish Lapland would probably be the most accurate location for this tale.
How old was I?
I guess I was somewhere between ten and twelve years of age. In those days, people were born and they died. No one really bothered with the record keeping. Lord knows there were plenty of us to go around.
Despite the fact it was close to midsummer, there was still snow on the ground. The reindeer and polar bears were roaming the streets while us kids were running around, having snowball fights. That is, during the minimum spare time we had between school, chores and work. Sleeping in those days was a luxury. Sometimes we had a full night’s sleep, sometimes the watch duty fell on my plate and I needed to stay up all night. Luckily, coffee had been invented ten years prior and we were all pretty much hooked on the sweet dark liquid.
Our housing for the winter months was an igloo, which the whole family constructed out of ice. Snow was used as plaster to fill in any holes between the blocks of ice. During the summer time, we had a tent like structure made out of bear and deer skin. Unfortunately all of us favoured the winter dwelling for one simple fact: The summer house stunk like a skunk. The choice of material was not a good one, but then, it was depression and all commodities were scarce.
The trip to school, either winter or summer time was made on skis and it was part to the exercise curriculum for all of us still eligible for the classes. A twenty kilometer trip back and forth was not a big deal and was building the strength and endurance nicely. This also came in handy for our after school activities. Some of us went to work in the coal mines, while others were herding rein deer or taking care of their younger siblings.
Each Saturday the Sauna was heated and all the family gathered into the cramped little room, heated up to eighty degrees. We were sitting all butt cheek to butt cheek in the nude on a wooden construct in the small dark room. Only the burning fire in the stove gave some lighting. As a luffa, a loosely tied bunch of birch tree branches with leaves on them was used. Out mother pummeled us with the concoction and me thinks she enjoyed it a little too much. Granted we children gave her grieve sometimes, so I will give her that.
Bathing for us then meant taking dips in the icy, below freezing waters. This, after we had first heated our body temperatures close to baking. Then we ran naked to the lake, where a large hole had been dug into the ice and plunged in.
All in all life was pretty ordinary and uneventful in my childhood, apart from the minor quirks.
Do I miss it? My childhood?
I would rather spend my next holiday on a labour camp!
Part Three of REALITY? WHO’S BRILLIANT IDEA WAS THAT?
“It is strange because sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book”
Time for a Reality Check?
So there I was, in the middle of the woods, all by my lonesome. No where to hide, no where to run.
I was in for a challenge. Not only because of me detoxing from the fiction I was greatly hooked up on at this point, but also living in an archaic house without any creature comforts.
I watched the car drive off, and then I was finally alone. Time to start the battle with the demons!
I went inside the wooden cabin finding a layer of dust settling on the surfaces. Sighing deeply and thinking ‘Welcome to the labour camp’. Placing my rucksack on the chair closest to me, I rolled up my sleeves and started cleaning up.
Windows and door open to get the air circulating. Making do with an old broom to swipe the floors. Luckily I had brought some cleaning wipes with me. Those would come in handy while dusting the surfaces.
A few hours later I looked around and the place was spick and span clean. It was time for the evening meal and I was unpacking my bag. I had several cans of food, some crackers and a juice canister. Now all I needed was water and wood!
The rest of my day went pretty much doing chors like cutting wood and hauling water from the well.
A few more hours went by and I was inside getting the wooden stow started. When the fire was burning nicely, I opened one of the cans, pea soup of course, good for any camper!
It was night fall and I had my little oil lamp burning and the fire was going keeping me warm. It had been a little bit of an effort, but luckily some smart Alec had written instructions now hanging on the wall next to fireplace.
So there I was without a care in the world, my stomach full with soup and juice. I was wondering how people managed to get anything else done in the olden days. Most of the daylight hours seemed to be wasted on cleaning and gathering necessities for meal preparation.
Then I realized I needed to use the facilities. Unfortunately there was only an outhouse and it was a bit tricky to navigate there in the dark. I had my torch with me so that helped a little. I just hoped no wildlife were close by feeling peckish and thinking I was food.
The routine for the two week period was pretty much the same every day. Get up at dawn, because the birds were screaming in the trees, hunt and gather for nourishment. The cottage grounds actually had a pretty good assortment of various berries and luckily it was the season for most of them.
In the end, I did not even miss reading, anything, fiction or otherwise. I didn’t have time, when the real life hit me hard, and using a log to do it!
Let’s see what happens when I finally get back home, where all the temptations await me!
“Until you walk a mile in another man’s moccasins you can’t imagine the smell” Robert Byrne
A Stroll in the Park
A lovely day for a walk in the park. Holding hands and walking down the long lane with her best friend. The sun was shining, the flowers were in bloom, the birds were singing. Yes, you could actually hear them, it was early Sunday morning and the natives were still sleeping comfortably.
The two friends had the park for themselves to enjoy. Almost, a little farther down the lane, they spotted an elderly woman sitting at the park bench. Moving closer, the couple detected the lady to be knitting. That is when he broke into tears.
“What is wrong with you?” She asked him.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Looking at the lady there just made me think of my own future.”
She was a little confused. One minute ago the sun had been shining and now, it seemed, the storm clouds were gathering.
“What are you talking about? Didn’t you and Mark already have your life planned until retirement?” She tried half joking. Knowing her friend, she could easily imagine the plans the couple had laid out for their future the minute they had become involved.
“No, we broke up, last night!”
He was sobbing hard. He hadn’t dared tell her about it sooner, and wished he had not seen the old lady, nor had come to the park. The reason for not telling his friend was, that he really wasn’t in the mood of hearing the ‘I told you so’s in his current frame of mind.
“Oh.” Was her short answer.
“I will be as lonely as that lady over there is without anyone to love me!” He continued through his tears.
She knew this would happen. Mark had been completely wrong for her friend. Biting her tongue and keeping in mind her friend needed consolation rather than her telling him how wrong he had been.
“Hey, it’s going to be alright! I am here for you!” She then put her arms around her friend and guided him to a nearby seat, trying to calm him down with soft spoken words.
The elderly lady had noticed the couple walking towards her.
‘Oh young love’ She had been thinking. And then she witnessed something odd. The man breaking down in tears!
“Well, I never!”
She said out loud to herself and then thinking,
‘In my days people were gay and laughing. We did not air our dirty laundry in public!’
The Observer
I was sitting in the coffee shop, my well-deserved latte in front of me. I was content in emerging into my daily readings on my tablet, but for some reason my eyes kept wandering to the hassle in the bar. Patrons were leaving and new ones were stepping into the shop.
‘Why not!’ I thought. I could play the part of the observer for a little while before continuing my own tasks. Who knows, maybe I would pick up an idea or two for my next writing project.
Sipping my coffee, I noticed the young couple in the corner booth. They were enjoying each others’ company, looking each other in the eye, no words were spoken. New love was in the air.
Feeling like a peeping Tom, I search for something else to gaze upon. My eyes were scanning the room and landed on a woman with three offspring. The mother was deep in thought, or so it seemed, reading the newspaper while her children were throwing napkins, straws and other small items at each other. I wondered how she managed to turn off the surroundings. The patrons at the next table however were not so lucky. Shaking their heads, they grabbed their orders and moved to another table at the farther end the coffee shop.
I laughed a little at the scene played out before me. Good thing I had been thinking ahead and chose the solitary spot close to the windows in the corner. I had a clear view of the whole establishment, but I was also able to concentrate on my reading if I wanted to.
I thought to seek out one more scene before tuning myself out. I noticed the waitresses behind the bar having a heated conversation. I was not able to hear what they were talking about, but clearly the other one was angry about something and kept on ranting, while the other one was just listening in. Wide eyed, nodding every now and again. The angry one was waving her arms in the air, while the quiet one remained stationary, her hands seemed almost glued to her sides. It seemed from an observer’s perspective, the ranter was in charge in that particular relationship, while the listener did just that and probably agreed to everything the ranter told her.
I lost my interest after a little while and noticed the coffee house getting emptier. Guess the rush was over and I could get back to my reading.
“In a deal, you give and take. You compromise. Then you grab the cash and catch the next train out of town” Irving Paul Lazar
Give and Take?
I told you so, but you never listen!
A “conversation” between two people about everything and nothing as it may have happened.
“You are so thick headed aren’t you!”
“So I’m the one who is the bad guy again, huh?”
“Well you are. There is no arguing about that!”
“So you are blaming me about everything that has gone wrong?”
“Yes, what’s your point?”
“No point. It’s hilarious! You are hilarious!”
“So now you are saying I’m a joke? Is that it?”
“No, I said you must be joking.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Then there must be something wrong with your hearing.”
“So now you are complaining about my ability to understand you!”
“No, I said you understand things in your own way.”
“Are you calling me stupid? If you are I will show you stupid…!”
“Good grief! Read my lips: You are stubborn!”
“Just because I hear and understand something differently than you, that makes me stubborn?”
“Potato, tomato!”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No.”
“It sure sounded like you were.”
“You heard me wrong then!”
“Again with the hearing! I am not deaf you know!”
“What was the point?”
“What point?”
“Why are we arguing?”
“I dunno. The weather is not so good today?”
“No it’s not. The forecast promised sunshine tomorrow though.”
“Sounds good.”
“Yep.”
“Yep.”
“Ok then!”
“Yep.”
Sometimes an argument is just that. The words are not important. The point of it is, there was no point to begin with. A bad day can cause feelings to run amuck. Venting with someone you trust and then forgetting about it is cathartic.
Rantings Of A Third Kind 