I’ve always said the most important jobs are parents, preachers, and those who care for the elderly and handicapped. And those are jobs I’ve never wanted in my life. I wanted to go to seminary but only for the mental challenge. I didn’t want to be responsible for the spiritual guidance of anyone–myself included. I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone or anything. Still don’t.

I never wanted any of these responsibilities because I know the importance of them and the amount of work they involve. It’s too much of a commitment: a lifetime. I wish more people understood these things. Based on my observations; they don’t. Or they are lazy. Or both. I don’t do commitments of any kind. If I don’t have the option of walking away then I can’t involve myself. It’s not who I am.

I’ve always admired the strength of people who take these jobs as seriously as they should; those who take the time and put in the work to raise genuinely good and compassionate humans; those who guide the spiritually poor to a place of victory and love; and those who care for so many elderly and handicapped who cannot care for themselves and have no one else to care for them. I also pray for these caregivers because one day I will be one of those elderly. And that is my cross to bear. That’s the going rate for complete freedom, you know. I feel for those who see it as imprisonment, for those who are lonely, who long for something more, for someone. I cannot imagine anything other than this life. I don’t believe in it.

Until recently, I never understood what it meant to be lonely. I’ve always loved living alone and not being forced to deal with anyone or anything I didn’t have to. Covid killed my vibe. I’ve had unidentifiable pains and I’m still waiting for growth. Aren’t they all growing pains? I loved living alone because I didn’t have to be if I didn’t want to. I’ve always had lots of friends and things to do. Covid killed that, too. My people–my entire world, hid from the virus and bought into the fear more than they should have. It was hard to believe and difficult to deal with, but I got used to it. And now that people are somewhat resuming their lives pre-2020, I don’t want to. I’ve got new habits. I require more alone time now. And I want my space. I need it for me.

I see I got off on a tangent here. My intention was to discuss these jobs and their importance, to shed the light on what they mean to others. Oh well. I’ll see where this goes like the rest of you.

My boss recently lost his father to Cancer. He was a young man in his late 70’s and lived a good life, I am told. He was surrounded by family and was able to take his final breaths in his own home, something he wanted from the moment he learned his fate. He got his wish, though much too late in my mind–being surrounded by family, I mean. We are all guilty of this.

Why do we always wait? Why do we ignore the importance of others in our lives until we are met with mortality? I ask this as I ignore everyone in my world. Life: It consumes us. We don’t make time for anything because time chooses our paths. It’s like going to Target so it can tell you what you need. Only not as fun–and sometimes–it costs us way more. Hind sight is always 20/20, and it seems as though we are blind until after the fact. I know I will still leave these thoughts and resume my solitude. Everything else is too much work, too much effort, and I don’t care to do any of it. I’m not even waving the white flag. That also requires too much effort. I am lying on it on the ground with no intention of ever getting up.

I think I’ve been in survival mode for so long that I don’t know anything else. Mindfulness has never been a strength of mine, and anxiety often takes the wheel of this crazy train on the rails to hell. Time is a demanding bitch, and “the man” is her boss, and I’m just along for the ride. Who decided this was the meaning of life? And why do we realize it’s not until we are either on our death beds or someone we love is?

The wisest thing my father ever said was people take time for granted because no one’s good at managing it. It was something along those lines, anyway. And if that isn’t a slap-in-the-face…

Perhaps that’s why I want nothing to do with the most important jobs in the world. And maybe that’s why many of those who have them aren’t good at them–or good enough. Mindfulness is the arch nemesis of Time, the world is the biggest distraction of them both, and we aren’t good with either.

A couple weeks ago, one of my coworkers passed away. He was only 35. He died in a car crash after a head on collision with another car. There were no survivors. There was no time to prepare for these losses, and the gatherings would be at a church or funeral home. Too late. Much too late.

A very dear friend, the mother of my other family, has pancreatic cancer and is currently in the hospital with complications. She has fought the good fight and has been victorious thus far. She could use all the prayers in the world. And her family is all over the map. I pray we can all gather while her soul is still with us; even more I pray for a miraculous healing that only God can manage. He brought Lazarus back from the grave and He can most certainly change this story.

My soul is dying with her, and I’m certain so are others close to her. I cry as I type this. Life isn’t fair. Not even for a minute. We are a people who are apparently slow learners, easily distracted, and blind until we’re looking through hind sight. May God have mercy on our souls. May God give us all strength to be the best stewards of our time, fully-focused and mindful, and not allow to world to control us any longer. May God give us peace that passes all understanding–a peace that can only come from above.

And God, if you’re listening, please give me a sign, some hope, and a reason to get up.

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen” Ephesians 3:20-21

Tears are running down my face as I type this. 53 days. It’s been 53 days since my grandmother left us. It was the worst possible way to end one year and begin another. At 1:14 am on New Year’s Day, when mother’s phone rang, I already knew. Grandma was gone. It’s still hard to believe. Covid robbed us of more than enough. I’d give up another year of my life to have her back. I’ve never been so heartbroken. Crying never hurt so much, so deeply. My chest and back are killing me from the hysteria I’ve suppressed.

I’ll never forget the last time I spoke to her. It was New Year’s Eve. Someone in the hospital was kind enough to call me from her room and allow me to speak to her. She was drugged for comfort and couldn’t speak. I told her it was me and I was sorry I couldn’t visit, but they wouldn’t let me. I told her I loved her very much. In her moaning and grunting, I know she said “I love you more.” That’s what she always said to me. I said nothing more. I didn’t want to say goodbye–though I knew it was. I was slightly hopeful she’d get better, but I knew she wouldn’t. I didn’t want to say goodbye because I was afraid she knew, too, and I didn’t want her to be as sad as I was/am. And if she didn’t know, I didn’t want her to be scared. So I just left it with “I love you.”

I’ll always wonder if she knew that would be our last conversation, if she understood anything that was happening, and if she missed me, too. I’ll always wonder if she felt any pain, if she was also heartbroken, and if she was at peace in that last breath. I’ll make myself crazy over answers I’ll never have. Those are the ones that do it, ya know. It’s never the things we know that hurt us or break us down. It’s never the things we think we cannot recover from. It’s the unknown. It’s always the unknown.

Some people have said grandmother would not want me to be sad, so I shouldn’t be. They’ve said I should think of the good times and all the memories and they shall carry me through. While there may be truth to those statements, it’s difficult to find comfort in them. I shall try, I suppose, and days will pass, and eventually time will lessen the pain. I don’t think you ever heal from it. Even then, however, I bet it won’t be until I’ve lived longer without her than with her. That would put me to 80, and I hope to be back with all my loved ones by then.

It’s a lonely existence since the pandemic. All this time away from family and friends has left my mind to wander anywhere and everywhere. It’s left the huge hole in my heart wide open and the thoughts swirling in my head like water that never goes down the drain. It’s sad and extremely difficult but quiet and beautiful at the same time. It’s also dangerous. But she is with me. My grandmother: One of the toughest ladies I’ve ever known.

She raised four children on her own after husbands ran out on her. She traded skiing for adulthood and eventually, her piano for rent money. I know a part of her died as she watched a truck haul it away. She did what she had to do. She gave up the one thing in life that was hers and for herself for survival. That is a strength I’ll never (hopefully) know but one I admire with all of my being. She’s not the first and, sadly, probably won’t be the last. The tears are flowing like Niagara Falls now. I wish she were here. I wish I could buy her another piano and listen to her play it. I wish she could teach me. I let her borrow my keyboard when she was still living on her own, but she never played it. That part of her died when the truck drove away.

My grandmother had a sense of humor that couldn’t be matched. She wasn’t your average grandma. She wasn’t all sweet and baked cookies and shit. She wasn’t the grandma who came to your sporting events or wedding receptions. lol. She was a tired old lady who retired from being a bank teller and just wanted to sit in her chair and watch the Cleveland Indians. If you understood where she came from, understood her journey, you couldn’t feel mad about it. It certainly had nothing to do with her love for any of us. I wasn’t bitter. I loved her and made time for her, anyway.

Grandmother loved whiskey sours, country music, and giving back the insults. She was very quick with them, too. I’m sure her mother would’ve been proud. I certainly was. I also realized I may have inherited some of that directly from her. She loved to drink iced tea from her tall, gray Tupperware cup. She would put 2-3 ice cubes in it. No more. And no sugar ever swam in that cup. It was as bitter as I’m trying not to be that we’ve lost her. Grandmother also liked to drink Squirt and eat peanut butter toast. It had to be the crunchy kind. And fish. She loved fish sandwiches. And in the center of her dining room table was always a bowl of apples, bananas, and oranges. Some were plastic, some were wooden, and all were sometimes dusty. lol. I never saw that woman eat any fruit in her life–unless you count those peaches in a cup. Mom brought her plenty of those when she moved into the nursing home. I don’t count those. She was a different person then.

She raised four children alone. She worked hard her entire life. She retired as she deserved. And what Dementia didn’t take from us, Pneumonia and Covid did. But she loved us. And we loved her. And that’s all that matters. Because if you look at life long enough, you’ll see the rest is just noise.

As I wait for the memories to comfort me and time to lessen the pain, I will think of the funny insults, the way she looked at my shoes whenever I came to visit, and her love for ice cream and all things made of sugar. I will try to forget the unknown, the time I took for granted, and the regrets I have for not seeing her more when I could. The tears will continue to flow, and I will try my best not to suppress this deep sadness I have never known.

For those of you who’ve lost a loved one at any point from anything, take comfort in two promises:

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalms 147:3

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalms 34:18

Goodnight. Much love. God Bless.

The times in which we are living are quite sad. I swore I’d never bring attention to it but I can’t help it. Look around. The devil is having his day, week, month, and year. People are using their free wills for evil. Humans are being trafficked and treated like possessions; children are being raped, abused, and killed; those sworn to protect are being disrespected and killed; cowardly thugs pick up guns instead of fists; and innocent people everywhere are victims. Too many don’t value life but care more about their own egos and reputations and other mindless bullshit that doesn’t matter in the end, anyway. Marriages aren’t being fought for and are quickly ending in divorces; spouses no longer respect each other and make a mockery of their vows by stepping out while still married. Their young children don’t know better and become excited about having two houses and possible future step-parents like the rest of their unfortunate friends. People value superficiality over depth; see half truths as honesty instead of lies; don’t hold themselves accountable nor do they want anyone to hold them accountable. People in power abuse it–some by taking advantage of others and some by not treating everyone equally. People are impatient, demanding, and entitled. They want what they want and now. They choose poison to quench their thirsts because they are too lazy to wait for the water to run. They make themselves try to fit where they don’t belong and put themselves in situations that are potentially troublesome or dangerous–all because they’re afraid to be their own company for a while. People consciously (or even subconsciously) believe in meritocracy rather than recognizing God’s blessings and looking around to see the rose color is from their glasses. People are making judgments and excuses rather than putting on the shoes of their neighbors and understanding their journeys, denying them grace and mercy. Society looks for a Savior in our President/future Presidents; believes all things/people are sent by God, and forgets the devil still exists and is free to do his work as we are all free to do ours. People push their agendas in the name of faith and religion, treat others any way other than the example Christ has given, and constantly use human error and God’s forgiveness as an excuse to continue down the path of hypocrisy. Churches have become greedy; preach prosperity gospels, and convince the masses who are too lazy to read for themselves that God will give them their desires if they tithe to their pastors.

Basically–the world is doomed. It’s a good thing for many that God made the covenant to never flood the earth again. He would’ve probably done so a few more times. And all the while–the world has become more sinful. People have become cold; division seems to be at an all-time high; no one values anything; everything pure and good and right and true has been mocked and beaten like Jesus before His Crucifixion; and all that is Holy is seen as a joke. The devil must be proud. Lots of people are doing his bidding. This is probably his “day” of rest.

It’s hard not to wonder where God is during all of this. It’s difficult to understand why He doesn’t stop some or all of this mess and save and protect innocent lives. We will never fully understand free will or the ways of God. But I can tell you this: this was not the plan of The Almighty. This was not what God wanted at all. And this was not was Jesus died for. What if the time of Jesus was now? Do you think he’d die for all these horrible people?

“The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they have it more abundantly.” John 10:10.

What the hell are we doing? Why aren’t we loving our neighbors? Why aren’t we looking out for each other? Why aren’t we holding each other accountable and encouraging/expecting change? To have life more abundantly–that was the point! Why aren’t we doing this?!!? God help us!

Solomon figured it out for us in Ecclesiastes. One of the richest, wisest men looked to everything and anything for the meaning of life, and he said:

“Now all has been heard. Here is the conclusion of the matter. Fear God and obey His commandments; for this is the whole duty of man.” (Ecclesiastes 12:13)

To fear God and obey His commandments…

May God bless the righteous–those who value what is good and right and true; those who revere what is Sacred and Holy; those who love their neighbors; take care of their parents; and show grace and mercy towards strangers and acquaintances; those who let the consciences be their guide; those who stand tall in their beliefs and live with integrity, faith, and the love of God in their hearts. May God bless the chosen ones who love above all else, show who Christ truly is, and continue to live in awe and fear of the One who created us.

May God have mercy on us all.

In my early 20’s, I’d give you a plethora of what a couple people called “Ericaisms” to fill in that blank. In doing so, often times at work (Target in Fairlawn), I was once called the crudest person ever by a poodle-haired lesbian who was too old to have existed yet. And it wasn’t even after a great comment!! This was after I said I’m sweatin like a cop waiting for Krispy Kreme to open. Come on!! I can do (and have done) better than that! I’ll save those similes and metaphors for those in my world–because if I’ve learned one thing–it’s that I am too much of a lot of things for many people! And while the rest don’t count, anyway–I’m getting picky about who I entertain. Mostly because people are pussies. And they believe in being politically correct. And they’re softer on the inside than I am on the outside–which I am working on–both making myself harder on the outside and random strangers and acquaintances who find me repulsive and obnoxious harder on the inside. It’s a win, win, and a public service, really. You can thank me later. Back to soft on the outside.

I am doing a Beachbody workout called 10 Rounds, and that shit has me regretting what I ate in 1986!! I’ve got sweating running down my second chin like a convict on parole as we speak. It’s (the workout) one of those things I think I do because I hate myself but love myself at the same time. It’s the most difficult 40 minutes of my day!! When I am done, I am usually crying and looking for pizza coupons. Not really. I’m panting like a dog and thanking God I survived–because the last damn way I wanna go is by exercise!! Unless, of course, the aerobics are in my bed…then maybe. But honestly, I’d like to just go peacefully in my sleep, after I’ve eaten a large pizza and a sheet cake. Perhaps if I do it, I will. No one would ever suspect that. It’s not quite like jumping off a bridge or hanging oneself from her loft railings, you know. (These thoughts would be lost on my therapist, so I will leave them here. You should, too. Thanks.) Pizza and cake. And martinis. “These are a few of my favorite things.” Like Julie Andrews–who’s as old as Jesus now. Not really–but she did just turn 85. Happy Belated Birthday, Diva!! Back to workout (maybe??)–

People who run say a runner’s high is the best there is! Clearly those people have never had surgery! I was once on Tramadol, an Epidural, Dilaudid, Morphine, and Percocet at the same time–and I can promise you, friends–that’s the best high there is!! (I’d love to do that again, but maybe not have another lung surgery. Maybe just a fancy dope party with some doctors and surgeons.) And second best is the performance high!! I miss the stage like kids at fat camp miss pizza and cake. OOOOHhhh…pizza and cake. I need some asap! Is fat camp a real thing? Like conversion camp? smh. That reminds me of a movie called But I’m A Cheerleader. It’s hilarious and ridiculous at the same time. Watch it if you haven’t. Just make sure no children are present. If these camps are real, the mentality if the ignorant is lost on me. Onward and Upward!!

In this workout, the hot trainer likes to do a lot of core exercises. I can think of a few core exercises I could show him, but we don’t need an audience, a camera, or other trainers. Well…maybe just one more. Kidding!! About all of this. Maybe I should stop this nonsense and pray. I welcome (and appreciate) the prayers of others, too, thanks. The workouts always end in core exercises, and more time for me to think about and regret my entire life. Do I think it’ll cure me of my love for pizza or cake? Absolutely not! Will I eat pizza later and regret that?? Absolutely! Insanity makes sense, you know. Plus if that whole YOLO nonsense is still a thing, I intend to die happy. And happiness, my friends, is not like sweating like any damn thing. Goodnight. Much love, pizza, and cake.

Many times along my reading/writing journey, I have come across the question “If you could talk to anyone from history, past or present, who would it be?” This week brought that question back to me.

Mother Teresa was always my answer; that has never changed. I even knew what I would want to talk about and how I thought the conversation might go. After reading plenty of her writings, I no longer know.

As someone who has had a lot of life experience and suffered much, I’ve always admired the life Mother Teresa chose for herself, the work she did, and her devotion to both. That requires a heart, discipline, and strength I cannot fathom. That is the most selfless and simplistic way to live. Perhaps that’s why it was so fulfilling for her.

I have always believed to help yourself crawl out of the darkness (if you can), it is best to help someone else. It’s easy to forget your troubles if you’re concerned with someone else’s–even if for only a short time.

I always pictured myself

Continue reading “A discussion on a park bench” →

It’s been a while. I can’t recall…maybe a year? Maybe longer? For quite some time I thought over and over about what I might write about, what I should focus on, what is running through my mind and weighing on my soul. There is so so so much. Then I think it’s a waste of time to articulate my thoughts on current affairs or the state of the world. I’d rather not be more depressed nor do I want to pass that along. That narrows it down a little.

For a while I’ve felt this pressure–to be intelligent, eloquent, raw in my honesty,  and open like a book. Then there’s the other side that wants to be a smartass, misses the stage, and wishes my therapist would stop telling me to go back to comedy.  (I think she should be giving me a copay at this point.) I love the comedy stage, miss it, and fear it at the same time. This PC world ain’t for me. I’ve always said people who are PC are little bitches who are afraid to say what they really think. Lucky for you and me, I’m not that bitch. (Is that really lucky, though? lol) I’m a bitch of a different color–kinda like that horse–only no ass. All titties over here–which I’m hoping will shrink some as I lose this weight. But yeah—you always know where I stand, that I really prefer to sit, and I love a good argument. lol.  Back to weight…

Continue reading “Mental vomit” →

It’s been quite a while since I’ve written. I wasn’t sure I’d ever again–not because I am without thoughts but because I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel that great urge to articulate them again. And yet here I am, still deeply searching.

I always thought in order to write a post–good or bad–I must feel or think deeply about one thing. Just one. Because you can only think deeply about one thing at a time, right? And that thought or feeling has only one trigger? Yes?

Those ideas were destroyed today. As months have passed, many deep thoughts and feelings have come. And while they seemed to have gone, I’m now certain they were just hibernating or waiting to erupt like a volcano. And now they surface. I’d like to think I waited patiently.

A lot has happened since I last posted. Life’s been good. It’s also been extremely difficult in times of times of learning. Some of those lessons were even heart breaking, but the truth of God prevailed like never before, and I cannot recall a time I’ve been happier. I learned that happiness is not the absence of sadness. It’s the ability to focus on the good while riding out the bad. It’s truly believing that God works for the good of those who love him. It’s blindly putting one foot in front of the other, believing that whom you cannot see is doing all of the behind-the-scenes work to take care of you in ways you’d never thought necessary. It’s choosing to press forward with whatever little hope you’ve left in your grasp.

All the while, life keeps happening. People show you their true colors. You lose sight of the truth for a short time though it feels like forever. You put the weight of the world on your shoulders because you think it belongs there. You lose sight of yourself–where you’ve been, where you’re trying to go, and all you’ve been victorious with thus far. You grow weary and hopeless. You find yourself at the end of your extension cord which hangs perfectly from your loft railing to your tall dining room chairs. And though anger and darkness propel you to do something you once feared but fear no longer, God intervenes. And maybe you’re angry. Furious. In a rage you’ve never felt. But you’ve suddenly  grown just tired enough to sleep on it another night, and God speaks to you in your dreams. You grow fearful again–not only of sin but also yourself and your own mortality. You press on with the tiniest seed of hope—that mustard seed…and eventually it all makes sense. The growing pains subside, your vision returns to 20/20, and some things you’ve learned a few times have finally stuck. And your trust in God is where it should be. And you know Jesus did it. ALL of it. Because YOU are worth it. Please believe that because it’s true.

I wanted to tell of the lessons I’ve learned, the wisdom I’ve gained, and the many, many blessings that have been bestowed on me in the last seven months, but I will leave it with this:

“There are many more things Jesus did. If all of them were written down, I suppose that not even the world itself would have space for the books that would be written.” (John 21:25)

Keep pressing forward, friends. Don’t lose sight of yourself. God thinks you’re important. Believe him. He’s still writing books.

Goodnight. Much love. God bless.

 

Two years ago today was the best day of my life. I finally made it to Hollywood for a screenwriting awards ceremony and live read held by the Oscars (The Academy Awards). I was one step closer to making my dreams come true. And for the first time in my life, as I stepped out of the parking deck and onto Hollywood Boulevard, I felt a sense of belonging. Of course I was wearing my power outfit (black skirt and pink, dressy tank top) and my favorite Nine West (five-inch) heels. (I plan to take over the world in those shoes. They’re that fabulous!!) I will never forget how I felt as I took that step and looked at the Stars below me. The sunshine and air hugged me, my soul was overcome with peace, and a smile I didn’t recognize appeared on my face. I was finally home.

Back to belonging… Continue reading “Hollywood Nights” →

Yesterday, the police shot and killed a man on the corner of my father’s street, three houses away. The man was on the run after Continue reading “A blood-stain destiny” →

Last Thursday morning, a woman jumped off the route 8 bridge. According to news sources, some men talked her down–only for her to walk a little farther then jump.