What If

"If you had one hour to tell the world about something, what

would it be?"

This question was recently posed to some of us and it turned out to be a real sticker in my brain.

It wasn't in a bad way, in fact, I appreciated it very much.

Definitely gave me a load to think about.

The first thing that came to my mind, was that I would show people that the people we elect for public office aren't always who they say they are. In fact, in most cases, they are far from the front they present to the general public.

Seeing as how we just had the primary elections and we have upcoming elections in November, this is currently an important issue.

Then I started thinking more and found many other topics that have, at some point or another, been on my mind. And as I thought more about this, I realized that any information I have on any of these subjects is woefully inadequate.

Most of the people I see sitting out on the street or just talking pushing some sort of issue. . .I find a lot of things having to do with animals. While this is a worthy issue, I find myself thinking that perhaps we should focus more on the people than the animals.

Why?

If the people currently in charge of such things (or those backing up what is currently happening) were replaced by someone honest, upfront and supported by the people because they KNEW who they were putting in charge. . . I think things would be much different in all areas of, well, everything.

Part of improving to take care of yourself and the people AND animal/meat industry issues is making sure the right people are in charge to take care of things.

Unfortunately most of the general public is given over to apathy, saying "whatever" to life. Even I find myself doing that at times. It's definitely one of those things that are lees than beneficial.

But I started thinking, why are we so content to let our leaders run us into the ground while we turn our focus elsewhere?

There aren't enough people around who are pushing the really important issues. There's a million and one different groups for this and that but its all a lot of noise with little results. The ones that mostly seem to have results are the ones that are least favorable.

Why do the better issues not get enough support?

Too much talking, not enough listening.

Too many selfish, not enough giving.

Much too much and not enough.

A Little Piece of... Something.

So this one night, I was up, which is not uncommon.

However on this night, I was writing. (This is uncommon due to the fact that I am currently being plagued by the notorious bane of a writer's existence; writer's block.)

On this particular night the gods were merciful and this is what came out;

_______________________________________________________

Her shoulders were hunched, bent down towards the dense wooden desk. Faint clicking sounds came from the keys as her fingers beat out a furious cadence.

Only one more day to turn in this article, it had to be done.

They had sent her to find a story, oh she'd found one.

Her fingers paused, hovering over the keyboard for a moment as she questioned herself inwardly wondering if exposing something this huge was in her best interest.

She straightened for a moment to relieve the pressure that had build up in her back. She never could sit with the proper posture. No matter how many times she had tried, her body would just sink back into itself hunching forward over the desk.

The dimly lit room came alive again with the sounds of typing as she resumed the furious cadence.

The story came to life on the screen as her fingers flew, creating a masterpiece.

-----------

Down the hall a floorboard creaked, a foot froze cautiously in place.

The dark form listened for a moment fearing their presence had been made known, but the faint clicking noises flowed uninterrupted.

One foot raised again continuing down the hall in and unhurried fashion, the body leaned towards the wall not quite touching it, cold metal rested in the hands whose grip was strong and sure.

------------

At first, they had wired her two million dollars for the hit, "Make it quiet." they had said.

"For two mil, you get a hit," she had replied adjusting the dark glasses on her face, "double your price and you'll get quick, quiet and a stellar clean up."

For a moment the party had considered, the lined face looked as if its mouth would spit out words of denial, but instead it had growled "Take care of it."

Her thin lips turned up in a quick smile, gone before the old eyes across from her had noticed. She could charge this much if she wanted, she was the best and they would not go to anyone else.

She leaned back in her chair languidly "Aces."

-------------

She approached the door with caution, it was open, the typing continued, the hunched form was oblivious to the impending doom.

The typist's dark bangs fell into her eyes, she pushed them away with an impatient hand.

Outside the room the assassin froze, her keen ears had picked up the pause in the double hand cadence.

She slid her hand to her thigh carefully withdrawing a knife. She flipped it in her hand, the blade was not shiny, it was a dull grey, but razor sharp, sure to slice through a body as if it were air.

Once the typing resumed, the assassin entered closing in on her prey.

The typist straightened and smiled slightly, "I've been waiting for you."

_______________________________________________________________

I have no idea what this is or where its going but, I thought I might give ya'll something entertaining to read.

Cheers

What shall I put?

LOOK!! Its Slappy the Clown!!

Oh, wait, no, thats just an advertisement.

The music here is seriously the strangest mix ever.

I feel like any moment the circus is going to crash through the doors.

Or some random person will start break dancing.

The two different types of music struggle for dominance, it smells like cigarettes in here.

As I look around myself in utter paranoia I notice a man walking past... smoking.

Oh, that makes much more sense, wait, I'm INSIDE.

That's just wrong.

"NOW SERVING NUMBER 34."

I turn my head simultaneously trying to keep an eye on my surroundings and navigate through the maze of tables crowded into a tile space of ten square feet.

Where am I?

Valley View Casino.

Why?

It was right up the street from the poll that I volunteered at and I was on my "dinner break" (at four o'clock)

The Poll Inspector, (a seventy-nine year old woman who apparently has been working at the polls since '93 but somehow is still careless with the procedures) had said they had a new restaurant there that was "very good."

So I decided to check it out, besides, there was pretty much nowhere else to go in Valley Center.

Sidenote, Valley Center is about twenty minutes from where I live.

It is in the hills/mountains.

It is also a "small town" everyone knows everyone else and they all go to church regardless of whether or not they are really saved.

The place where a semi truck full of chickens overturned on the treacherously windy road that one has to travel in order to get to the town. (by the way, the driver died. The chickens survived, the road was closed all night as they moved the truck and chased chickens.)

The place where a pig was seen just trotting down the road.

They have a road named "The yellow brick road" (I kid you not.)

Their favorite pastime is to reminisce about the fires that swept through the area and talk about their elderly neighbors who passed away but "Weren't they just so sweet?"

But I digress, the point is this, I pretty much had nowhere else to go.

So, I drive to Valley View Casino not one minute away from the polls.

It's less than impressive, big parking structure, one building.

So crowded, like they took five different ideas and shoved them into one building.

Like a zoo.

So I walk in, so many people, my head whips around as I try and assess my surroundings and spot the food spot.

Mission; get the food, get out.

After what seemed like much too long (but was probably only about five minutes) I figured out where it was and made my way over carefully avoiding the tables filled with ... people.

I ordered a meatball sandwich. They had Asian food there and I would have loved to get me some Asian deliciousness but I really didn't want to take the time to read the menu, I just wanted to go.

I also failed to think about the fact that the meatballs were probably beef, something which my stomach despises.

And so I sit, and wait, my eyes randomly wander as the thought occurs to me, this is a wonderful place to observe people.

My eye falls on a man, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. He looks sulky, "Damnit" he mutters.

I guess he lost.

Then I start to think, "I wonder how many of these people are victims of the economy's fall... trying to "win big" to end their troubles. I wonder how many of them keep losing but don't stop as they just HAVE to keep going because any moment they'll finally clear the hurdle of multiple losses. I wonder how many of these people are frittering away their retirement monies as they search for some form of excitement in their lives. How many of them have nothing better to do because their kids are off separated from them not giving a rip about dear old mum and dad."

The thought is depressing, I just want to go.

But my food arrives and I eat it there as I failed to request it "to go."

Brilliant.

The sandwich is okay, tainted with the utter insanity of that place...

It could use some more sauce.

I think its beef.

Oops.

Oh well. I eat my food and leave.

Back at the polling place I smile and wish people a "good day." I'm improving at being a nice face to come in to; they smile back at me.

That's something isn't it?

But I am never working at the polls again.

Nothing would induce me to that kind of "volunteer-ism" again.

Not the point...

Also, we don't want to drive home at night on Valley Center again. We almost drove into the side of the hill cuz it was so dark.

I know, I know, turn on the brights. Which I did. But, I had just turned it off, because I was being polite to the driver on the other side. When I turned them back on... YIKES.

Anyways.... just something thats jamming itself in my head.

Slot Machines

Empty people

Empty lives

Come to watch

The screens fly by

Push of a button

It falls into place

Bow their heads

They've lost the race

Shake it off

Feed the metal more

Start it again

Lose more and more

Waste of time

As they try and find

The way out

Of their financial bind

Empty pockets

Empty eyes

The smiling poster

Tells only lies

-Finis-

Summer?

A new blog bit was warranted for this subject because it has absolutely nothing to do with the previous post.

I recently came across a "flair" (a mini button for to pin upon things) that featured three children jumping into a body of water against the sunset, the word "summer" was at the top.

It was a beautiful picture and in my opinion a perfect representation of "summer" in my mind.

But what is "summer"?

I've seen many invitations to the "first" BBQ, bonfire etc. of summer.

One problem here people; summer starts June twenty-first.

Yes, I believe, that things cannot possibly be any "first" of the virgin summer of 2010, until it actually IS summer.

Is that so bad?

Now before you come to the wrong conclusion and stop reading, this is not a post to bash upon the thrill-seekers of summer.

I am merely stating my opinion of what really constitutes a "first" of summer.

Now on to the next item; what is summer?

Quick answer?

A season that falls after spring and before autumn.

But to each of us it means something different, fun, hot, mosquitoes, sticky, a break from school. . . ya'll get the picture.

It means nothing to me.

I have an idea of what it SHOULD mean but I've never "had a summer" so to me it just happens to be just another weather change.

And now I have forgotten what the point of this particular blog is.

I've been quite distracted of late due to certain situations and tiredness.

I apologize and here I shall end.

Little of This, Little of That

Some days I'm not quite sure what I want to say.

One thing however, is sure, my grammar is on the horrid side of horrid and not so horrid.

I've been discovering that some things are not as they seem deep within. I have also learned that controlling things does not make them disappear.

I have also begun to dance in public, something I never thought I would do.

Today I went to use the ATM machine outside of a bank alongside Valley Parkway in Escondido.

The thing was a drive-up ATM but since I had the card and my dad was driving I opted to get out and use it just standing there.

Or so I thought,

you know the little delays in electronic items? Well, in between those I started dancing. . . not very well. I really can't dance.

It was more of a fun boppy sort of dance to amuse myself while I waited.

Then I heard laughing in the car, I turned to look and there was my dad and two sisters laughing at me.

Embarrassing.

Yet I can't seem to help myself.

It's great fun while I do it, then turns into mortification which only lasts about a moment. Then I continue on my way dancing.

I puzzle over this change, does this mean I have gotten more foolish?

Does this mean I have improved?

I cannot tell you what it means.

But it happens.

Something else I brought up earlier, controlling something does not make it disappear.

Is this a good thing?

I know not.

One thing I do know; here it is and now I must think about it. . .

Still controlling it though, the dam hasn't broken yet.

I suppose that's a good thing.

I know not.

The hard part is trying to explain it, even I don't fully understand it.

What do you say to those things that are very present yet not yet fully understood?

I know not.