The Golden Rule

It’s believed that you learn everything you need to know about life in Kindergarten. Share everything, play fair, don’t push, so on and so forth.

The Golden Rule states in no uncertain terms that you should do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Correct?
I guess I didn’t learn everything I needed to know because that rule is an enabler. Life has taught me with disturbing clarity that the “rule” is more of a suggestion and it only applies to people who have no issue being bound by rules.

You cannot, I repeat, cannot treat people the way you want to be treated because we’re all sociopaths.

The most you can do is establish nonnegotiable boundaries, soft limits, and maybe even a few, ‘you can’t knock it til’ you try it’ points and be honest with others about them. Hopefully, your screening process is stringent enough that whoever makes it past the interview stage, listens and is courteous enough to live within the guidelines, so you may all coexist without incident.
Stop assuming that because you treat people a certain way, they’ll treat you just the same. This rule has some of us walking around here with big ass, block letter, shouty capital ‘KICK ME’ signs plastered to our backs.

Everyone DOES NOT live by the same code of ethics.

What glitters isn’t always gold and all that jazz. I should’ve known as a kid that a rule of golden proportions would be swaddled in deceit. King Midas had the golden touch and you see what happened to him.

All I’m saying is that we don’t all move the same way. Being one-dimensional serves you and you alone. If that’s who you are, then your single-minded focus will serve you well. I’m not a one-dimensional person. I’m a chameleon; multifaceted. I change my colors often, because it’s necessary. I’m a harsh person most of the time, but each person in my life can’t be handled the same way. Different gloves for different loves.

I treat people according to the way they demand to be treated. Yes, demand. If you let me trample all over you, then that’s what I’ll do. If you want me to treat you like the damn Sugar Plum fairy, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll give you what you need; sometimes what you want. What I won’t give you, is what you expect. What I won’t do is treat you the way I expect to be treated.

You get what you deserve. Nothing more, nothing less.

I’m the Boss

In response to an article on ScaryMommy.com

 

This may just be the most interesting reading I’ve seen in awhile. To the original authoress, Lisa, honey, bless your heart. Considering none of your children ended up in a river, you didn’t end up with a bottle of jack/pills or a noose around your neck, CPS (DYFS for all you East Coast folks) didn’t need to be called, and none of your kids packed up an action figure and decided to ease on down the road to grandma’s house, I’d say the situation didn’t escalate past the point of no return, nor did it do irreversible damage to your children. In my opinion, I don’t believe you did anything wrong. To insinuate that raising your voice or using crass language towards a child of a reasonable age, is somehow excessive or unnecessary, may very well be the biggest load of crap to ever be uttered to a parent. The reason I say this is because it’s unrealistic.

I for one, do not intend to send my children into the world believing that for every mistake or error they make, others will be considerate enough to sit them down as many times as necessary for them to get it, without consequence or repercussion, explain what they did wrong, how to avoid making the same mistake again, or warn them of the consequences that will eventually befall them should they make said mistake again. Oh no. I will not lead my children to believe anything other than the reality of what life (meaning every other person outside of our household) has in store for them should they not abide by the rules laid out for them. Conversely, I don’t want my children believing that each achievement they accomplish will be recognized or rewarded. It’s not reality.

For those of us who don’t reside on high, we learn quickly that a failure to abide by the rules set forth by the powers that be, results in discipline. This eventuality follows you the rest of your life, no matter where you go. You can only buck against the “system” so many times, before finally being penalized for what will most likely be considered either an ineptitude in your understanding or just blatant defiance and disrespect. Neither will be accepted without some penalty. To the outside world, the “real” world, no one cares why you don’t listen, or why you don’t comply. They only care that you do or you don’t. And if can’t or simply choose not to follow instructions; in accordance with common sense, you must be punished. People don’t want to reward bad behavior. Or at least they shouldn’t. If that were at all entirely true, we wouldn’t have politicians or professional athletes, but I digress. If you’re fortunate, you have parental figures who are understanding and patient during your developmental years. They prepare you with a solid foundation of what’s right and wrong. They give you space and time to figure certain things out and when you come to a crossroads and don’t choose the right path, they redirect you without judgement. Yay to those people!

Looking past all the snarky ass comments and the banners of awesomeness being waved proudly, everyone addresses these situations differently based on the conditions surrounding them. Yes we all know, each child is different. Although contrary to popular belief, they do share a common trait. THEY ARE ALL HABITUAL LINE STEPPERS! It is in their nature, same as it was in ours. Inquisition is a biological imperative, but…and this is a big but…the difference between being curious vs being defiant is a matter of choice. Children make a choice to be good or bad, barring any mental/emotional/social disorders.

Understandably, the younger the child, the more leeway is given when it comes to the boundaries they are allowed to push. Not saying that there is anything wrong with that, but there comes a point where a push is met with a shove. Keep pushing and eventually you’re going to be met by a big ass brick wall named mom or dad.

Without conscious effort, we prefer to instill a sense of right or wrong in our children at the earliest possible stages of development. We teach them no, long before we teach them yes. The first time your baby grabs something from you, you don’t want them to have, you coochie-coo a no at them to make them understand that their behavior is unacceptable. We do this to infants people! Nothing at all wrong with that, right? So why is it wrong to raise your voice at a child in order to let them know, I am dead ass serious with you right now? You spend the rest of your life utilizing a variety of behavior modification techniques to get your children to comply. But what are we to do when a child, who is well aware and understands what right and wrong is, no longer listens? Am I to just turn my back on them because raising my voice, being a bit more stern in my delivery, or using a bit more colorful language isn’t considered socially acceptable anymore? You’ll have to excuse me, when I say, and I mean this in the best possible way, piss on all that. As a parent, I made a choice when I decided to bring a life into this world. I became responsible for the impression that life leaves in this world.

I think a lot of people, those with and without children fail to realize that you aren’t raising your children to be model citizens and good human beings all so you can pat yourself on the back. You aren’t giving them a dose of hard, cold reality because you want them to be miserable. You aren’t disciplining them in order to scare the living shit out of them, nor are you choosing not to reward them for every wonderful, fantastical, gold-star worthy achievement because you’re some raging, heartless bitch. We, at least I, am doing this to prepare them for the reality of what the real world has in store for them.

Rules, regulations, laws, etc etc, have and will exist until the earth goes up in glorious flames. Until my child is either legally or in my personal opinion, socially prepared to exist on their own, the laws which govern them, are the laws in which I set forth for them. That means, as cliche as this sounds, as long as you live under my roof, you will abide by my rules. And if you choose not to, you will suffer the wrath of Mom! Not because I don’t love you, but because I do.

Besides, although I am an advocate for a child being a child, as long as they can, children these days are a lot smarter than we’d like to give them credit for. They are far more aware because of the vast amount of information their exposed to. Most children know exactly what they’re doing, when they’re doing it. Most children, know exactly when to hide something from plain view or to expose themselves because they don’t fear retaliation for their actions. Children are indeed innocent, but they are not stupid.

The world is an ugly place, full of ugly people who don’t give two squirts of a pigs anus about the delicate sensibilities you crippled your child with. Because that is what you’re doing. Not every child requires the firm hand of a spanking or the “excessive” yet “effective” impact of a yell. Not at all. But there are some that very much do. If yelling at my child works as a means to instill a healthy sense of fear, then so be it. Making them understand the seriousness of breaking rules, whether meant to keep them from harm, meant to help them, meant to teach them how to behave in a respectful manner, is my responsibility.

Kudos to all the parents, step-parents, God-parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents and persons who’s very existence influences the life of a child. There are plenty of scum-of-the-earth people who have their unworthy souls attached to an innocent child, but to the ones who strive to uplift and raise decent, good human beings, my hats off to you. Even when you don’t think anyone is thanking you, I am. Every time I’m out in public and a teenager is acting a plum damn fool, I’m saying thank you. Every time I volunteer in my child’s class and I see children treating one another and adults with respect, I’m saying thank you. Each time a young person steps out into the world and behaves with a modicum of common sense, I am saying thank you to the mother’s and father’s who have taken the time to instill a sense of decorum and dignity in their children.

– See more at: http://www.scarymommy.com/the-big-fat-fuck-you/comment-page-72/#comment-497422

Tread Lightly

You Couldn’t

Human

People can be so completely self-righteous, disrespectful and inappropriate. With the passing of one of our nations most beloved and respected entertainers, Mr. Robin Williams, from a suspected suicide, you would think that people would be a tad more considerate. Wrong!

In my brother’s post regarding the death, he worded his condolences as a “passing,” which is indeed what has transpired. Robin Williams has passed on from this life.

Some asshat, in response posted, “he didn’t pass, he committed suicide. No RIPs for people who kill themselves. I can’t.” I would like to motion that you shut all the way the fuck up!

I hope you get run over by a Mack truck whose tires are riddled with rusty nails, but the truck isn’t what takes you out. Oh nooo. Too good for you. It’s the infection from the bacteria infested nails. It leads to sepsis and you fade away slowly and painfully.

Who are you, to be so high and mighty as to invalidate the life of a man just because of the means in which he’s departed?

Do people really not get the seriousness of mental health? That addictions start in the mind. I’ve always had an issue with this particular subject because it hits so close to home.

For years, during my youth, I was so angry with my mother. There wasn’t anything anyone could say to me, no manner of explanation, that would convince me that what happened to her, was anything short of selfish and unforgiveable. I used to tell myself, that nothing short of the Hand of God would ever make me leave my child.

I was a child, so I thought childish things. I was hurt, so I said hurtful things. As I got older, I was finally given the much need information regarding my mother’s mental health status at the time of her passing.

Cancer. Death of her first born. Forced Hysterectomy. Inadequate medication to balance her hormones post operation. Need I go on?

People only allow ailments such as heart attack, stroke, or communicable diseases to fall under the umbrella of natural causes.

Mental health issues are as naturally occurring as the sun rising every day. You’re more likely to suffer from some type of mental or emotional disorder, than you are to get cancer or have an aneurism.

So when someone’s life hangs by a thread because their minds aren’t in working order, don’t you dare for one second think to shame them because you believe they’ve taken the “easy” way out.

The natural progression of most mental diseases is death. The sad part is our inability to recognize the signs of someone heading down that path.

Suicide is a serious epidemic and their is nothing “easy” about taking one’s life. Nothing about the act itself or what/who is left behind in the wake of such tragedies.

If it were so easy to do, then we wouldn’t struggle with thoughts the way we do. We wouldn’t beat ourselves up for even considering it as an option.

We are only human; fragile and delicate. Our minds and hearts can only take but so much before the pieces that make us up, crumble and deteriorate right before our eyes. Most of us walk a tight rope each and every day and hope that no one thing will nudge us, causing us to lose our footing. No one wants to fall.

Instead of looking down at someone who didn’t make it, try to help someone who’s still here and needs your support.

There’s nothing here for you

I pulled all of the happy and good I have left and gave it to her. That way when the scavengers come, they’ll have nothing left to take from me. Besides, she’s the only one who deserves it. 

Hulk Smash

***DISCLAIMER***

INCLUDES VULGARITY

In comparison to others, I am an infant in this whole network of authors, bloggers & lovers of all things literary. At a tender age I discovered my infatuation with words, which eventually matured into a deeply fulfilling love, only to evolve to something essential to my very being.

BOOKS ARE VITAL TO MY EXISTENCE.

The words, ideas, thoughts and expressions of others are key to my survival. This web of coexisting, collaborative and supportive people; unbeknownst to the majority; are like a furnace that keeps this beating organ in my chest from icing over.

So when I find out about the cowardice and repulsive behavior that seems to be pervading the worlds of people that I happen to care for, it doesn’t piss me off. Oh no.

THE SHIT ENRAGES ME! And I am not a nice person on an even day.

Who in the entire fuck do you believe yourself to be, that you can degrade the work or success of another? That you can somehow cheapen the substance; the blood, sweat, and tears, that someone gave to their life?

You fuck ass, sour patch eating, garbage pail dwelling, grime in between the tiles of a motel bathroom.

It is nauseating to hear of you fucking parasites, lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to leech onto a person of worth and try to suck the very essence of what it means to be an artist out of them.

That goes for you piece of infected genitalia muthafuckas as well. Oh, you don’t know who I’m talking to? I’m talking about you assholes out here pirating books.

Yeah you! How dare you! I can’t even tell you how much I would love to get my hands on each and every one of you, peel the skin off your raggedy ass bodies, lay it out for you and have you write standards in your own fluids, to the key of: I WILL NEVER STEAL ANOTHER BOOK, then sew that shit back on you Jeepers Creepers style, so that vow seeps into your substandard DNA. (In a HAZMAT suit of course. God forbid I get any of your taint on me).

I will never understand your unrealistic, undeserving, convoluted sense of entitlement. It’s blatantly obvious that you haven’t done enough in your pathetic lives, otherwise you’d never engage in such deplorable behavior.

I could go on and on, but if I don’t stop, I’m going to end up starting an FBI worthy search for some of you and I’m too cute to go to jail. Let’s just hope I never have to run into the likes of you. Because believe me when I say, I don’t fight fair and I will make you rue the day that you ever chose to disgrace the literary world with your dishonorable presence.

For what it’s worth, I offer my thanks and my continued support to the authors, bloggers and nut cases I’m fortunate enough to be on this literary journey with. I will always be an advocate for you. I will continue to promote in an honest and favorable way, as a show of good favor and mostly because that’s the way God built me.

Murderous

In comparison to others, I am an infant in this whole network of authors, bloggers & lovers of all things literary. At a tender age I discovered my infatuation with words, which eventually matured into a deeply fulfilling love, only to evolve to something essential to my very being.

BOOKS ARE VITAL TO MY EXISTENCE.

The words, ideas, thoughts and expressions of others are key to my survival. This web of coexisting, collaborative and supportive people; unbeknownst to the majority; are like a furnace that keeps this beating organ in my chest from icing over.

So when I find out about the cowardice and repulsive behavior that seems to be pervading the worlds of people that I happen to care for, it doesn’t piss me off. Oh no.

THE SHIT ENRAGES ME! And I am not a nice person on an even day.

Who in the entire fuck do you believe yourself to be, that you can degrade the work or success of another? That you can somehow cheapen the substance; the blood, sweat, and tears, that someone gave to their life?

You fuck ass, sour patch eating, garbage pail dwelling, grime in between the tiles of a motel bathroom.

It is nauseating to hear of you fucking parasites, lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to leech onto a person of worth and try to suck the very essence of what it means to be an artist out of them.

That goes for you piece of infected genitalia muthafuckas as well. Oh, you don’t know who I’m talking to? I’m talking about you assholes out here pirating books.

Yeah you! How dare you! I can’t even tell you how much I would love to get my hands on each and every one of you, peel the skin off your raggedy ass bodies, lay it out for you and have you write standards in your own fluids, to the key of: I WILL NEVER STEAL ANOTHER BOOK, then sew that shit back on you Jeepers Creepers style, so that vow seeps into your substandard DNA. (In a HAZMAT suit of course. God forbid I get any of your taint on me).

I will never understand your unrealistic, undeserving, convoluted sense of entitlement. It’s blatantly obvious that you haven’t done enough in your pathetic lives, otherwise you’d never engage in such deplorable behavior.

I could go on and on, but if I don’t stop, I’m going to end up starting an FBI worthy search for some of you and I’m too cute to go to jail. Let’s just hope I never have to run into the likes of you. Because believe me when I say, I don’t fight fair and I will make you rue the day that you ever chose to disgrace the literary world with your dishonorable presence.

For what it’s worth, I offer my thanks and my continued support to the authors, bloggers and nut cases I’m fortunate enough to be on this literary journey with. I will always be an advocate for you. I will continue to promote in an honest and favorable way, as a show of good favor and mostly because that’s the way God built me.

Eventful

Kind of still wrapping my mind around the not-so-randonmess of recent days past. I gave my first review and made my first ever blog post, which is a huge stepping stone for me. And although my journey is very much in its infancy, the step is one I intend to follow in the direction of my ever expanding dreams and purpose.

To say that the out-of-this-realm possibilities that subsequently resulted from one little review have been amazing; unbelievable; mind-boggling, is a complete understatement.

My review garnered some very interesting attention. Namely, from the author herself; Tarryn Fisher, author and genius-brain behind Mud Vein and the Love Me With Lies Series. She is my overlord and reigns eternal as the Evil Queen of the deceptively dark and torturous literary Wonderland I exist in.

I hadn’t realized the door I was opening when I began reading Mud Vein, but I can say, wholeheartedly that there is no turning back now.

I’ve wandered into a mental death match with people who’ve come prepared to fight to the very last drop of intellectual ichor. Persons I was not at all expecting to connect with and move with. They have pulled me into the fray and I’m anxious, eager even, to battle it out and claim victory. Mostly because I feel as if everyone will win.

We all stand to gain from this literary journey. Take from it what you will. I choose to soak it all up, devour every last morsel that is laid before me. I feel like a tyrant, poised to overthrow any and all who stand in my way, but I digress. Heehee. (I have an evil lady in my head).

Any who, I also won a book yesterday in a giveaway. This is the second time in less than a month that I’ve won anything; ever; and they’ve both been books! How righteous is that! Books are my drug of choice and these crafty chemist of the bookish variety are my pushers. 🙂

Thank you to Jovana Shirley over at Unforeseen Editing. I’m really looking forward to reading Breaking Alexandria by K.A. Robinson.

I have also been given the opportunity to beta read which is new and fun and scary, and a whole slew of other emotions that I can’t convey at this moment. It is sure to prove worthwhile for myself, and universal fingers crossed, for the author as well.

Now, even though I am over the moon knowing that my review moved others (anyone to be honest), my luck at winning a book, and being presented with the opportunity to aide in someone’s success, it still doesn’t highlight the best part of the past few days.

Megan Simpson, my newest literary ladylove and purveyor of Reading Books Like A Boss found me and gave me some serious mojo. I don’t even know if she realizes how much her friendship and encouragement means to me at this point. Sometimes you just know, huh. ❤

 

Keep Those Pages Turning

Stepping Stone

Inspiration

I’ve never once been compelled or focus-driven enough to put my thoughts into words regarding any literary piece. Don’t get me wrong, I think about the books I read all the time. How they make me feel; if they have a deeper meaning, etcetera, etcetera. Until now, I’ve never truly been able to narrow down my ideas enough to share them.

I’m not entirely sure this blog has a single-minded purpose yet, but what I would like to share is the feelings and thoughts I have regarding a certain new release I finished yesterday.

If you’re not familiar with the author Tarryn Fisher, then, in my opinion, it would behoove of you to acquaint yourself with her. That’s what this post is about. She has inspired me to give life to the thoughts in my head, the feelings trying to claw out of my skin surrounding MUD VEIN. So I posted my very first review on Goodreads. I’d like to share that with you all.

 

Mud Vein by Tarryn Fisher

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Okay, so here we go. This is my first official declaration regarding any written work ever. Bear with me, please.

Synopsis

When reclusive novelist Senna Richards wakes up on her thirty-third birthday, everything has changed. Caged behind an electrical fence, locked in a house in the middle of the snow, Senna is left to decode the clues to find out why she was taken. If she wants her freedom, she has to take a close look at her past. But, her past has a heartbeat…and her kidnapper is nowhere to be found.

With her survival hanging by a thread, Senna soon realizes this is a game. A dangerous one. Only the truth can set her free.

I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to let the thoughts and emotions rampaging through me, run their course and settle, or just write through those feelings. Seeing as though I honestly can’t see an end to what I feel regarding this book, I decided to just go for it.

“Because simplicity speaks the loudest.” – MUD VEIN

Not to sure that there is anything simple about the words, character(s), taste, texture, feel, mood, or pace of this book for me.

Quite simply, I’m lost inside of this story and finding it very difficult to pull myself out.

Tarryn Fisher has made me love and loathe someone because of the likeness I share with this person. It is no revelation that we’re our own worst enemy, which in my eyes Senna most definitely is.

Senna Richards is a dark soul. Real. Flawed and broken. Closed off from her own heart by circumstance and choice. She isn’t looking to be fixed. She is comfortable in her disrepair. I’m comfortable with her lack of sense. It makes her human. Relatable. Because yes, some of us are equally as broken and muddied by our past. Most people spend their lives looking to be saved; waiting for a hero to come and rescue them. Some of us are happy to remain broken. To live with the remaining pieces of ourselves until we fall apart completely; so we can stop fighting.

People are drawn to darkness. Without darkness, there would be no light. There would be no need for light. Those of us who live in the light, search for those who have too much darkness. All in an effort to expose the flaws and cracks in our framework. Gives us purpose, or so we like to believe. We feed our egos by focusing our hero complexes on one another and deciding, “I can fix you,” “I can make this all better and right.” Because in the end this little patchwork job I’ve taken on suits my bottom line. I feel better about me because I made you better.

Very rarely do you come across a person in your life that exist solely to focus on you. To give you a breath of life that you didn’t know you needed. Didn’t even realize you wanted. To allow you the space and time to understand that you’re good either way. Light or dark. Whole are broken. I’m going to walk with you no matter what, because that’s what I was made for.

Dr. Isaac Asterholder comes forth fully aware (in a way that I’m still having trouble reconciling) and prepared to serve his purpose. What intrigues me about his character, is his honesty. People aren’t honest. Not really. We lie, deceive, omit, misdirect and manipulate one another. Honesty leaves you vulnerable; open.

How does someone decide to be that honest with another person? I’d like to believe the connection; the invisible thread that held Senna and Isaac together, explains that. Even though it was very one-sided for most of the story, his awareness of that connection exposed a world of possibilities for me.

The possibility that love, a true and unconditional love can exist between two people. Not just a trumped up version of what we think love is. What we like to dress love up in to make it appear truer than it is. Because let’s be honest, most love is conditional. Parental, familial, romantic. We give and take love depending on what it does for us. But the idea that we’re connected to someone, loved by someone simply because we exist. You can’t take that away. You can’t alter it. It lives with you, in you, from the moment you discover it, until you are no longer in this life. Even then I’d like to hope it endures.

Isaac gives to Senna something far more valuable than anything I’ve ever experienced. Truth in love. Despite the bad, he pushes forward and shows that the ugliness inside of us can be touched. It can be altered and shaped into something beautiful, just through the sheer will of someone who thinks you’re worth more than you believe yourself to be.

I’m thankful for that. I’d like to think that authors speak from experiences, whether their own or others. It gives me hope.

I’ve buried two mothers in this life, respectively at 5 and 29. Both suffered through cancer. My biological, cancer of the lymph nodes, leading to a hysterectomy, which inevitably led to her suicide. My stepmother, from breast cancer that metastasized into her brain and lungs, which she eventually succumbed to. The first woman left of her own volition, leaving me with a father who was ill-equipped to deal, which in turn pretty much left me on my own, to be easily preyed upon by the world. The second was an ever present light on the harbor, which I could always return to, only to be snuffed out, leaving me blind and floating along. The abandonment that shapes Senna, I identify with it so much it hurts my heart. I wish it didn’t exist, but I know it to be all too true.

As I sit here, tears streaming down my face, I can’t decide whether I’d like to go back and read through Senna and Isaac’s story again. I know I’ll uncover more layers, more truths, but I’m scared. Fearful that I’ll recognize more of myself; fearful that I won’t. I might be a different kind of ugly. A whole different kind of dark. Who knows.

What I do know, is that I pray there is an Isaac out there for everyone. Someone who’ll reach into you and hold on for dear life. All because a force greater than fear, hurt, pain, loss or ego, decided long ago that this is your person and you don’t have a choice. That you don’t get a chance to regret their presence because you know that without them, good or bad, you’ll miss out on something; anything; everything. Leaving you floating helplessly along until nothing is left of you. I pray that whoever your person(s) is, they’re strong enough, aware enough, and selfless enough to recognize the tie that binds.

“And when I die, I know there will be an invisible red thread connecting me to my soulmate. It can tangle, and it can stretch, but it can never break. When I die, I’ll be in the light. And someday Isaac will find me, because that’s what he is.”

(2014-04-05). Mud Vein (Kindle Locations 3486-3488). . Kindle Edition.

View all my reviews

 

about Tarryn

I am a real life villain, truly. I drink sick amounts of Starbucks. Most of the time my hair smells like coffee. I was born in South Africa, and lived there for most of my childhood. I moved to Seattle just for the rain. Rome is my favorite place in the world so far, Paris comes in at a close second. I read and write more than I sleep. When I was eleven, I wrote an entire novel about runaway orphans, using only purple ink. I am addicted to Florence and the Machine and will travel to see concerts. I love scary movies and giraffes. I spend way too much time on Facebook. Meet you there?…