Ranting @ MindSay

One simple, two syllable word encompasses such a wide array of points of view and diverse opinions: killing. How is it justifiable? I mean if a man kills another man it’s considered murder, homicide, manslaughter, or whatever you wish to call it. Basically, to put it rather bluntly, it is unacceptable in our present society. If a man kills his child, he goes to jail. If a man kills his dog, he goes to jail. This behavior is all considered wrong. However, man kills thousands of cows, chickens, ducks, etc every day and no one cares. What really is the difference between a chicken and a dog? Say you look out side and your neighbor’s slaughtering a chicken in his backyard. I mean, you may be taken a bit aback but still, nothing really out of the ordinary. However, say you look outside and see Jack next door cutting off his dog’s head and skinning the body. Now you might say something.

So you smack the mosquito on your arm. You just voluntarily took something’s life away. Who’s to say it was that mosquito’s time to go? Who’s to say you had the right to kill it? I mean, if we can kill mosquitoes and cows and chickens, why can’t we kill dogs and cats and children and people? It’s a known fact that we as humans can’t play God. Well then, by killing ANYTHING that lives, are we not “playing God” or attempting to in some way? How low in the food chain do we have to go until homicide is acceptable? All I’m saying is, when is killing right? When is it acceptable? And furthermore, who’s to say it’s ok to kill one thing and not another? Do we have that power as humans? I sure as hell don’t think so but maybe that’s just me.

Love is like speeding down the road,lusting for the rush of adrenaline you get from the danger. The blood enveloping your lifeless body after the smash up is great too.It's got to make a person wonder, why do we jumpoff of cliffs? I KNOW! So we can hit the bottom and break ourselves!!!!!! Not really, and yet, that's usually the end result.

Every day we're out there living our lives, taking risks, being"brave" I wish I knew what it felt like to be smart, instead of brave. You know, to protect myself, instead of destroy myself. I laugh at the fact that I write with so much feeling when right now, I really feel nothing. Well, I suppose that's a lie, I feel a distant ache in the back of my throat, but that will die when I get over him.

I guess the thing is, I love love. I love to love people. Nothing in the world will ever make me happier than loving and being loved in return. Whether that be friends, family, or a "significant other" love is just something that makes the world go round. "I love you." It's the most special thing I've ever heard or said in my life. And I mean it every time I say it.

Lacking love is...like being dead inside. It's like being colorblind. I don't want to say I'm"addicted"to love, because I don't think that's it. I just have SO much love to give, and it seems a lot of the time like no one is receptive to those feelings. It's said that the things you experience when you're in love are some of the most special things that will ever happen to you in your life.

Those experiences are only wonderful when you are experiencing them though. I don't really know if what I thrive for exists. I mean,  I've seen so many relationships that seemed so great go so terribly wrong. The first serious relationship I was in was destroyed by sex, and the second was destroyed by circumstances beyond my control. I don't really know that the second serious relationship I was in existed at all, actually.

It's easy, when you mess up, to take your mistakes and learn from them, but what happens when it's not your mistake? Then, how do you learn from it?? How do you know in advance that the one you love or wish to fall in love with doesn't have some emotional baggage that seems to diminish but then returns to destroy what you had? When do you KNOW the past is in the past?

The answer is, you really don't. That's my problem. I WANT to know, I really do. I want to be sure that I"m risking my heart for something that stands a chance. At the beginning of my last relationship, I wasn't sure, and I wrote poetry about it, and you know what? My instincts were right, and I DIDN'T listen to them! That is not going to happen again to me. I'm not some stupid doormat. I'm glad I've been hurt because now I can stop it from happening again by closing the door.  

OMG!  Have you ever wanted to punch an old person.  If I had, would I have ever been able to justify my actions...  So, here I am leaving the grocery store, for about the third time this week, and of course it's raining as we are headed out the door.  Not that heavy down pour of fat rain or the sprinkling of a mist but a nice. steady. rain.  Enough to worry about my 6 month old being drenched on our walk back to the car.  And of course, due to the rain, traffic seems a little thicker... friends and family dropping off there loved ones at the door to head into work or just to run in and grab milk or bread.  A line prceeds to gather as we leave.  Ahead of us a spanish family...  at least two children old enough to walk themselves as their mother guides them accross the street and the father following from behind with an overloaded grocery cart.  They pause as two or three cars are driving past the exit.  Here we are piling up one by one in the ever so convenient cattle corral of an exit.  I am to follow next with my 6 month old, still in his carrier, in the cart, and my 5 year old holding the cart at the side, to my right.  As we proceed to wait for the family in front of us, a line gathers behind us, consisting of an old man behind me and a young blonde woman behind him.  Beyond that I didn't really pay much attention to those gathering behind us.  The L shape corridor of glass doors seem to keep everyone in line.  My 5 year old is actually being quiet and patient as we wait those few seconds for the Spanards to cross the road into the parking lot.  I am ever thankful for this I must admit but this could have been the demise of the situation to follow.  If he was carrying on he might of saved himself by making his presence known.  My 5 year is of the leaner breed of child.  Average height.  And barely enough meat on his bones to keep his pants from falling to his ankles.  So as we wait I begin to adjust the baby blanket on my 6 month olds carrier, to keep my precious son from the rain... knowing he may melt if touched by random rain drops.  As I start this process of struggling with a 6 month old to drape a blanket over top of the carrier like a tent, because of course he has to grab the blankie every time if falls just right.  I believe he views such actions as a game, only to be revealed by the silly grin of giggles he wears on his face through this process.  I start to push forward as the Spanards are now crossing the road towards the parking lot.  I push free of the shiny metal corralling rails at my sides and inch my cart towards the garbage can on the left to wrestle the blanket back from the baby as my 5 year old follows.  Letting go of the cart momentarily he tries to make sense of my tactical move, which he recovers quite quickly from, and as he goes to grab back onto the security of the shopping cart for guidance, he is NAILED by the shopping cart of the old man waiting so patiently behind us.  I am shocked and uphaled by this action and try to brush it off as an accident, for these events do occur.  As I grasp for his hand to help him up from the concrete slab of a sidewalk, he stares at me, with tears whelling up in his eyes in shock thinking what could of only been, "What the fuck was that?"  If I was to read his thoughts that would be my best guess.  I try to consloe him and state that it was just an accident, it was ok and to get up and mom would make it better.  I honestly tried to make light of the situation and would have if the following events did not occur.  As my son is trying to regain his barrings the old man pulls his cart back, which I thought at the time to be a gesture of OOOPS, lets give this child some room to get up.  He then BLASTS my child for the second time.  I felt as if I was watching a moose pummel and pedestrian like you see on TV.  My son was so far underneath the fucking cart the bottom rack of the cart was up to his thighs.  So infuriated by what has now occured, I then grab the old mans shopping cart and shove him and his cart into the corral and start dropping F Bombs left and right.  Screaming that not only did he hit him the first time, but he proceeded to back up and tried to drive over my son to get past.  I must have looked like a crazy lady at that very moment that it actually makes me laugh everytime I think about my response.  People who were unaware of what had just occured were starring at me like I was a circus event.  A freak show for sure.  I lost it!  TO SAY THE LEAST!  To boot the shopping cart had practically nothing in it.  So the old mans vision was not hindered by the bulk of groceries that often times happen.  He had a half of dozen eggs & a half gallon of milk for at that point who knows if you would live long enough to finish a whole dozen eggs or a whole gallon of milk.  And his shriveled stomach probably didn't need a high intake besides.  The best part was that he had a knitted purple hat that was rolled up into a beanie shape on the top of his seventy or so year old head.  He had practically no hair  and how that hat stayed on top of his head as I was shoving him into the railing I have no idea... it must have been groved into his head from years of wear.  I finally regain some sort of sanity and picked my 5 year old up off the pavement.  He is hysterical and asking me, "Why did he do that?... What did I do wrong?"  He thought he might of deserved it for a second it seemed.  I continued to curse the old man all the way to the car and made sure he pulled away in his vehicle first, fearing the fact the he couldn't drive a shopping cart properly but yet he still had a license.  I laugh about what occured now but I tell you what I've never wanted to punch somebody so badly in my entire life.  I didn't care that he was an old man.  I just wanted to punch him.  So the next time you see a crazy lady screaming at the grocery store, think of me, and look to see if there is an old man with a purple beanie on his head.  It really is quite the look and worth a second glance.