Every cloud has a silver lining... so quote of the deek is...
"Sorrow's silver lining is that it makes great writers." -James Newman
Grand Canyon
A doctor once told me I feel to much. I said 'So does God, that's why you can see the Grand Canyon from the Moon.'
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What would he tell the people that don't feel enough? The people that try to write love and acceptance on their arms because they'd rather feel pain than feel nothing at all? Would he write a prescription? Or would he tell them to go see the Grand Canyon?
He'd write a prescription.
But the only thing a pill can make you feel is the feeling of it sliding down your throat. All a pill's contents swimming through your veins can make you feel is side effects. One isn't enough. There's never enough until the bottle is empty and the heart stops beating. It's never enough until they're sitting on the Moon with God, admiring the Grand Canyon.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Dying Every Day
2live
adj \ˈlīv\Definition of LIVE
1 a: having life
b : existing in fact or reality
2: exerting force or containing energy: as
a : afire, glowing
b : connected to electric power
c : charged with explosives and containing shot or a bullet
d : imparting or driven by power
e : being in operation
3: abounding with life
4: being in a pure native state
5: of bright vivid color
Live is an adjective, verb, and adverb. It is undoubtedly in every dictionary published. There are movies, songs, books, plays, etc., just about life. Yet... people don't know the true meaning of it. You ask somebody on the street what their definition of life is, and it'll probably be 'To have life, to live'. Asking a 90 year old war veteran, however, is a completely different story. The reason few people know the true meaning of life is because you can't truly know what it means to live, until you have truly met death. Tragic, yet... ironic, isn't it?
When things are going bad we always tell ourselves 'Well, at least things can't get any worse.' Well I, can count on both hands times that they did. Life works in funny ways, but who am I to complain? Everything that happens is for a reason. Everything that happens helps shape us into who we are. Everything bad that happens makes us appreciate life more, when its going good. Every minute of every day, we are dying. Every second that goes by brings us closer to the end. So why aren't we all living like we're dying? Because if you think about it... aren't we?
Forever&Always
JHB
When things are going bad we always tell ourselves 'Well, at least things can't get any worse.' Well I, can count on both hands times that they did. Life works in funny ways, but who am I to complain? Everything that happens is for a reason. Everything that happens helps shape us into who we are. Everything bad that happens makes us appreciate life more, when its going good. Every minute of every day, we are dying. Every second that goes by brings us closer to the end. So why aren't we all living like we're dying? Because if you think about it... aren't we?
Forever&Always
JHB
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Surviving the Devil, All Three of Them...
The horrors of babysitting
"Kristy, darling, have you seen you brother?" I ask as I lift the tyke out of the laundry basket filled of Cocoa Puffs. She shakes her head, blonde curls whipping my face.
"No." She says, staring up at me with wide, brown eyes. "He said he was going to the bafroom but that was a hour ago." I sigh and set her down on the couch but she instantly climbs down and chases after the cat. I pretend I don't care and march on upstairs too the bathroom. I press my ear to the door, and when I don't hear anything I knock rather loudly.
"Matt?" I ask. "Are you in there?" No reply. I press my ear to the door and hear a small noise. "Mathew if you do not answer me this minute I am coming in." Nothing. I narrow my eyes and turn the door knob, pushing the door open with more force than neccesary. Matt's eyes widen at the same time mine do. He's standing at the sink, towel around his bare shoulders. In one hand he holds a comb, in the other a pink tube of some sort. There was a pink glob waiting atop the comb. "What. Are. You. Doing?" I tried not to grit my teeth, I really did, but failed miserably.
"Uhh... nothing?" He shrugs and quickly drops the styling tools into the sink. I narrow my eyes at him and pluck the pink tube from the sink. I read the label, Long Lasting Hair Dye. I glare at Matt, walk out the door and back downstairs, and drop the pink tube into the trash. 'Why, why would a twelve-year-old boy want to dye his hair pink?' I ask myself with a shake of my head. I start to sigh, but am interrupted when the baby monitor clipped to my belt erupts with the sounds of a crying baby. I quickly sweep into the nursery by the master bedroom, and pick up the crying nine month year old baby girl. I hold her in a comfortable position in my arms and soothe her by gently patting her back while searching for her pacifier. I find it amongst her blanket and hold to her mouth. She accepts it gratefully. I bounce her softly for a few moments, and when I check on her she is fast asleep. I smile at her adorable, innocent, face and lay her on her back in her crib. I watch her for a minute before closing the door quietly behind me as I go to search for Kristy.
I find her in the half-bath, trying to put the cat in the toilet. I quickly come to the cat's rescue, freeing the feline from Kristy's grasp and setting her free outside the bathroom. The little girl sits on the floor in front of the sink, looking up at me with sad deyes and a pouty lip.
"You let her get away" She says in a small voice and snifffs twice for effect.
"But honey, Ginger doesn't want to take a bath in the toilet." I say gently, looking down at her with an apologizing look. She nods and sniffs twice more before reaching up for me. I smile slightly and pick her up, her wrapping her arms around my neck. I sigh for the millionth time tonight and can't help but think, surely these children will be the death of me.
"Kristy, darling, have you seen you brother?" I ask as I lift the tyke out of the laundry basket filled of Cocoa Puffs. She shakes her head, blonde curls whipping my face.
"No." She says, staring up at me with wide, brown eyes. "He said he was going to the bafroom but that was a hour ago." I sigh and set her down on the couch but she instantly climbs down and chases after the cat. I pretend I don't care and march on upstairs too the bathroom. I press my ear to the door, and when I don't hear anything I knock rather loudly.
"Matt?" I ask. "Are you in there?" No reply. I press my ear to the door and hear a small noise. "Mathew if you do not answer me this minute I am coming in." Nothing. I narrow my eyes and turn the door knob, pushing the door open with more force than neccesary. Matt's eyes widen at the same time mine do. He's standing at the sink, towel around his bare shoulders. In one hand he holds a comb, in the other a pink tube of some sort. There was a pink glob waiting atop the comb. "What. Are. You. Doing?" I tried not to grit my teeth, I really did, but failed miserably.
"Uhh... nothing?" He shrugs and quickly drops the styling tools into the sink. I narrow my eyes at him and pluck the pink tube from the sink. I read the label, Long Lasting Hair Dye. I glare at Matt, walk out the door and back downstairs, and drop the pink tube into the trash. 'Why, why would a twelve-year-old boy want to dye his hair pink?' I ask myself with a shake of my head. I start to sigh, but am interrupted when the baby monitor clipped to my belt erupts with the sounds of a crying baby. I quickly sweep into the nursery by the master bedroom, and pick up the crying nine month year old baby girl. I hold her in a comfortable position in my arms and soothe her by gently patting her back while searching for her pacifier. I find it amongst her blanket and hold to her mouth. She accepts it gratefully. I bounce her softly for a few moments, and when I check on her she is fast asleep. I smile at her adorable, innocent, face and lay her on her back in her crib. I watch her for a minute before closing the door quietly behind me as I go to search for Kristy.
I find her in the half-bath, trying to put the cat in the toilet. I quickly come to the cat's rescue, freeing the feline from Kristy's grasp and setting her free outside the bathroom. The little girl sits on the floor in front of the sink, looking up at me with sad deyes and a pouty lip.
"You let her get away" She says in a small voice and snifffs twice for effect.
"But honey, Ginger doesn't want to take a bath in the toilet." I say gently, looking down at her with an apologizing look. She nods and sniffs twice more before reaching up for me. I smile slightly and pick her up, her wrapping her arms around my neck. I sigh for the millionth time tonight and can't help but think, surely these children will be the death of me.
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