I half-way heard this story, so I don’t know all the details. There is this convicted murderer on death row, and for his last request he asked that he be given a prosthesis for his missing leg so that he could walk to his execution. His request was denied.
“Deadman hopping!”
A thought will come to mind. It will remain lodged in my brain while other thoughts come and go and are long forgotten. Depending on where my mindset is, this thought may reside in one particular area or explore the many different paths of my mind. It might be drawn towards a certain hallway of the mind where journal entries are composed, pondered, and edited. It may dance on over to the poetic corner of my mind, where the words themselves frolic in a playground of various forms. It may go in the direction of a letter to be written, a thought to be shared with a friend, or down the path of essay hell where min/max page requirements dwell.
No matter where the thought finally resides, it will gently tug on the sleeve of my awareness, reminding me at the strangest moments that it is still there and in need of my attention. The thought is like a bird yearning to flap its wings, yet trapped in the cage of my mind. The only way to release the thought is to take pen in hand or punch these keys. It will not fly away until it has been written.
I’m cleaning my place while I listen to The Dave Matthews Band. I really don’t mind the cleaning once I get involved in it. Oftentimes when I think about the things that need to be done around the house, thoughts of the dreaded chores come to mind and I conveniently find a reason to put them off for another day. But once I do decide to get started, I easily become lost in each individual task. The dreaded chores become less of a chore and more of an opportunity to soothe the mind. Before I know it, each act has snowballed into the other, and the washing, sweeping, scrubbing, wiping, vacuuming, dusting, mopping, and discarding of trash has been done. Now my place is all *sparkley*. Small accomplishments are underrated.
At first, I attempted to walk myself out of my own individual sorrows, but it was as if I was trudging slowly in deep sand. So, instead of fighting the current of this immense ocean, I decided at some point to just let the tide take me in the direction it wanted. Making this decision was a wise move for me, because it provided inspiration and waves of creativity that I had been thirsting for.
I don’t know why it is, but for some reason I am always my most creative self when I am feeling my own sadness. My wounds within are always willing to provide creative juices, but to have full access to them, I must trade off a piece of my own self. It’s kind of difficult to explain it all, but I always feel like I am making a deal with the devil to gain entrance into that creative side of myself. While I write and wallow in the mire, I can feel this unknown power tugging at me and bringing me further into a depressive state. But instead of fighting it, I shine in the darkness and write. During all of this process, there comes a time when I have the ability to decide when I will leave this state of mind, and the blues that I have been feeling become less of an internal conflict and more of a wonderful gift.
It was shortly after two in the morning and I had to make a 7-Eleven run. As I walked closer to the store, I noticed a young woman standing on a distant corner hitchiking. It’s rare these days that I see someone thumbing for a ride, particularly a female at this untimely hour. As if this wasn’t unusual enough, the young woman was naked from head to toe. Although she stood casually alongside her pile of clothes and didn’t appear to be threatened by any immediate danger, the possiblity of danger seemed imminent with each aproaching car. Presently, the occupants from the occasional passing car gave a honk of their horn or yelled out obscenities, but no one stopped for her; I considered her lucky. I went inside the store, briefly explaining the situation to the clerk as I purchased what I had come for, and asked her to phone the police.
As I exited the store, I saw that the woman was still there. I felt that I should do something for her. I certainly couldn’t walk away from the situation, not knowing what would be her fate. I walked over to her, telling her that she should put on her clothes. Her speech made it obvious that she had been drinking. She appeared to be of drinking age, but just barely. Her drunkeness resulted in more of a friendly drunk than an angry one, which made it much easier for me to convience her to put her clothes on. While she dressed herself, she continued to thumb for a ride. She explained that she had been in a fight at a bar, and somehow had been seperated from her friends. I suggested that she call someone, a friend or family member. She said that she wanted to phone her “Daddy”, but she didn’t have any money. I pointed to a pay phone, and offered her the change that I had. As we walked towards the phone, I thought it somewhat unusual that she referred to her father as “Daddy” to a complete stranger, but then everything about her had been a little unusual.
As soon as someone answered her phone call, the happy drunk disappeared and tears suddenly began to fall. She pleaded with her Daddy to come get her, but apparently he couldn’t or wouldn’t. Crying uncontrollably, she suddenly pulled the receiver from her ear and asked if she could come home with me. Her asking caught me off guard, but I told her that she could. How could I not help someone in such obvious need? However, I soon began to wonder what I was getting myself into, and thought about the possible repercussions. To cover my own ass, I thought it best if I talked with the person on the other end of the phone. The man said he was her father, but he didn’t seem all too concerned with her welfare or with who I was. Nonetheless, I gave him my name and address. Before returning the phone back to her, the father told me in passing that he had not seen her for a while, for she had been living at the State Hospital for sometime now. My heart sunk. The nakedness and hitchiking now made more sense. “Is she safe?” I asked cautiously. I didn’t want her to know what he had just told me, but I had to know if there was a possibilty of her going “crazy” on me. Fortunately, he understood where my question was coming from, and he assured me that she wasn’t violent. I thought about the fact that she had been in a fight earlier in the evening, and wondered how much weight I should put in his assurance.
As soon as she and I arrived at my home, I began to pour coffee. With a little time and a couple cups of coffee, she began to sober up and we talked and watched television for a while. When she told me that she didn’t feel well, I was able to get her into the bathroom just before she released the alcohol and everything else within her. Afterwards, I cleaned up the bathroom and she went to sleep in my bed. I decided it would be best if I stayed up and read. While she was sleeping, she cried aloud and yelled “Daddy” repeatedly. I was unsure if I should wake her or not, but finally decided to when her screams began to get very loud. I didn’t want the neighbors to think I was doing something awful to her. She quickly went back to sleep, though the dreams along with the screams returned now and then. At 9:30 in the morning, she was still sleeping. I woke her, and told her that she would have to leave soon. She said ok, and then apologized for urinating in my bed. I gave her a couple of dollars so that she could catch the bus, feeling a sense of relief as she walked out the door.
My bank, The bank that says Yes! has said Yes to charging me a fine. It doesn’t matter to them that my direct-deposit was placed in the checking account on the same day that a check was cashed. It was briefly explained to me that they had cashed the check first, so too bad. So I throw my hands in the air, and wave them like I just don’t care. What else can a person do?
One doesn’t have much recourse when it comes to banks, and revenge is rather limited. Oh sure, there’s always the option of robbing the bank, or barging in and destroying all of their doucuments; but then I would have to change banks and start a new account, and that’s all so tedious and time consuming. I know what I’m going to do to get even. The next time I go to the bank, following the transaction when I say to the teller “Have a great day”, I’m secretly not going to mean it. Heeheehee….sweet revenge!
An apple a day, keeps the doctor away. I’m unsure where or when this adage first began, or if it really holds much truth. In my opinion, I think it’s much more beneficial to have an orange or a glass of orange juice on a daily basis. There is something special about the orange, but it seems that the orange has always played second fiddle to the apple.
Yes, the apple has lived a charmed life. There are wonderous stories and legends involving apples. It is often suggested that the Fruit of Knowledge that Adam and Eve decided to eat in the Garden of Eden was an apple. In the Swiss story of archer William Tell, William is forced to shoot an apple from the head of his son to win his freedom. There is the American legend of Johnny Appleseed, the distributor and planter of appleseeds. Legend has it that Johnny traveled barefoot, wearing tattered clothes and a tin pot for a hat. It’s not known if during this time whether Johnny was referred to as a “pot-head”, but if he was he may have been the first. Of course, a child could always gain favor by bringing an apple to school for a teacher. Someone dear to another can be referred to as the apple of one’s eye. Heck, they even named a computer after the apple.
And what does the orange get? There aren’t any happy stories for the orange. The orange can’t even get an original name…it’s a color! But what a lovely color it is. In recent years, it has been discovered that the orange helps in the fight against cancer, heart disease, and can help prevent certain birth defects. In my own research, I have found that when drinking a glass of orange juice, it is virtually impossible to be depressed. Orange juice is certainly filled with sunshine for the well-being. I believe there are many health benefits from the orange that we still have yet to discover. Besides, considering that the bare mid-drift look is all the rage in fashion these days, one must certainly agree that the cute navel-orange is the in fruit.