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Can anybody tell me whatever happened to H. R. 1242?

While you’re at it, can somebody—anybody—tell me what happened to the associated, scheduled activities mentioned in this particular bill that was signed into law by President Trump in 2017?

Did it get past me?  Did I miss all the referenced hoopla?

For those of you not in the know, H. R. 1242 (Sec. 3) is a bill that supposedly recognizes 400 Years of so-called African-American History.

According to everything I’ve heard and read about it, it amounted to a series of “celebrations” and “festivities”  held throughout the US to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the arrival of so-called Africans in the English colonies at Point Comfort, Virginia, in 1619.

For reference, most historians agree that the first recorded Africans arrived in British North America in late August 1619.

As an aside, I personally love how they recall the kidnap and enslavement of a people as an “arrival”…which sounds significantly more like voluntary travel as opposed to forced slavery.

Anyway, here it is December 31, 2019, the last day of the 400th year of this so-called “arrival” and, guess what?  No fanfare.  Not even a mention.  Why?

If there were to be no festivities, no celebration and barely any mention of this Anniversary, then why even create a bill and sign it into law in the first place?

What was the point?

I mean, did the date change?  Or maybe, just maybe…did the motive for acknowledging this date change?

What do I mean by that?

Well, hear me out!

With so many so-called African-Americans discovering that they are not even African at all but rather are the actual Tribe of Judah referenced in the Holy Bible, perhaps the acknowledgment of the actual date confirms/gives validity to claims America would rather see dismissed.

Could there have been a concern that, by acknowledging the “400 years” spent in the land of our captivity, the government would inadvertently prompt further scrutiny of the Bible.  Was there concern that maybe a larger number of people would ask themselves if the references in Deuteronomy 28:15-68, that describes a group of people currently living under specific curses placed upon them by their Elohim, related to the so-called African-Americans?

Does the fact that the people described therein differ exponentially from the people known throughout the world today as Jews have any bearing on the matter?

Would seeing the slave ships and such remind people that, according to the Bible, the chosen people, the actual Jews from the Tribe of Judah, were dispersed to the four corners of the Earth via ships and in chains?

Would the fact that the same were to be sold to other men as slaves and remain in this condition until the return of their Elohim be a clue as to the identity of the chosen people of God?

Would a deeper exploration of black history lead to the realization that no other people on the planet fit the description of the chosen people of God as perfectly as so-called African-Americans?

Would recognizing the 400 year anniversary showcase, in real time, the unmistakable similarities between so called African-Americans and the referenced chosen children of God?

Would these similarities cause people to question the validity of the peoples claiming to be and currently recognized as the chosen of God?

Would it prompt research to that end?

Would people who never considered that they were being misled about who the chosen people of the Bible are find out that most of the people known as Jews today (whether living abroad or residing in Israel) are actually Ashkenazi Russian Jewish converts?  Or that they originate from places like Poland and Germany?

Even worse, what would society think if they knew that the peoples presented to the world as Jews are actually referenced in Revelation 2:8, 3:8 as fake?

Would that shake people’s faith?

More importantly, what would it say about the world we live in? About the people who know the truth but who have allowed one of the most egregious cases of identity theft in the history of the world to not only be propagated upon all of society, but to continue until this very day?

What would that say about our government?  About religions that are misrepresenting the truth?  About what is being taught in seminaries, etc., the world over?

Can anybody hear me?

On the surface, Making America Great Again is a great idea.  To many, MAGA is a noble undertaking.  I mean, who wouldn’t want the country to be great, right?  However, the problem in trying to achieve such a thing is that it is highly dependent upon the viewpoint of the people seeking to undertake this feat, to say nothing of how far back in history they’re trying to go.  To put it another way, the meaning of what made America great changes based on the race of the people doing the talking.

For some, that trip down memory lane is quite pleasant.  It sees them in power, conquering other societies and subjugating the peoples therein.  What’s not to love?

On the other hand, for others, that same trip has them being over powered, conquered by other societies, subjugated and enslaved.  What’s not to hate?

Now, for those having trouble imagining themselves receiving the short end of the stick, just close your eyes and try to imagine living through the worst time in your life.  Imagine it being so terrible that it left a scar that you unwillingly pass down to your children.  Now, imagine that event being public.  Imagine the government, different nations and society at large not only knowing about it, but supporting it.  Now imagine that, even after it supposedly stops, none of the above mentioned groups being willing to provide anything beyond token assistance.  Imagine them blaming you for it and demanding that you forget about it and move on.

Imagine receiving no therapy, no real assistance and only the barest hint of sympathy.  For the most part, you had to suffer in silence and heal your own wounds as best you could in order not to offend the culprit.  Over time, you manage to put some of the pain behind you because you have no choice.  No matter what, you have to work, to eat, to live.  You do your best to try to live a normal life.

Now imagine that, after doing all these things in your attempt at normalcy, somebody comes along and says, “Let’s return to the worst time in your life.”  On a whim, they say “Let’s return to the time when you were mistreated and victimized without justice…that’s when the country was truly great for all.”

Would you do it?  Would you even consider doing it?  Would it be right for the culprit, who received no repercussion for your initial mistreatment, to decide that you should relive the crimes that you endured because that was when they were happiest?  Would you not wonder and marvel at their hostility towards you for not wanting to revisit their terrorism of you?

How would you feel?  Would it threaten the progress you’ve tried desperately to achieve?  What would the thought of returning to a very painful time even do to your psyche?

Now ask yourself, could that be the motive for the threat of return to your ugly past?  Is your assailant trying to finish you off?  Maybe totally destroy you?  Can anybody hear you?  Now imagine that an entire group of people don’t have to imagine that scenario…because that’s their reality.

Can anybody hear me?

Lately, I’ve been having dreams — crazy dreams, in fact — about things and people that I don’t know or ordinarily dream about.

Waking up afterwards, I’ve been left with the vague feeling of unease and wondered what, if anything, these strange dreams were trying to tell me.  To that end, I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time searching the internet to find out what these dreams could possibly mean.

In all honesty, I didn’t expect to find a prophet or Joseph waiting in the wings to interpret all the things I had been seeing.  Still, I would have been happy to be able to understand just one of these dreams.

Oh well…

Anyway, like I was saying, I’ve been dreaming crazy dreams about all sorts of topics—estranged family members, a Teddy Bear, athletes and actors, etc.—in no particular order.

Oddly enough, the nonfamily members I’ve been dreaming about are strange in and of themselves.  For instance, the athlete that I have been dreaming about is retired and, although I have always admired him, I really don’t give him much thought in my day to day life (even though he is often on TV endorsing many products, goods and services).  And the actress that I dreamed about isn’t even one of my favorites.  In fact, other than as a supporting character, I’ve never actually been fond of her work.  And yet, in the dream, we were quite friendly as if we had been acquainted for years in another life.

And then there are the others ones.

In the dreams that included estranged relatives, we were chatting away as if we were never estranged.  It was like no time had passed and the real-life angry words and thoughtless actions had never occurred at all.

OK…

But what about the Bear?

Well, the Teddy Bear that I dreamed about belongs to my youngest son.  He is quite fond of this Bear and, truth be told, so am I.  But I can’t imagine how or why this Teddy would actually infiltrate my dreams.  Did I feel the need for a stuffed friend of my own to confide in?

What do I know, right?

Well, like anyone in this day and age who doesn’t know something, I took to the internet to research the meanings of these dreams.

Fortunately or unfortunately, what I’ve discovered is almost as interesting as the dreams themselves.  I couldn’t help but notice that so many others are on the internet searching for answers to the same questions I was asking.  Namely, where the heck did THAT come from?

So, what does this mean?  What on Earth is going on?

On its own, the sheer number of other seekers out there would have been somewhat reassuring.  After all, it’s great to find out that you aren’t alone in an issue.  But then there came the slew of on-line, armchair translators of dreams all waiting to add their two cent interpretation to an already polluted field.  While some of the translations seem well thought out, others were all over the place.  Take your pick.

What I came away with is as follows:  1. I’m expecting a loss or I’m expecting a major gift; 2. I want to meet the celebrities I dreamed about or I want to be a celebrity; 3. I want a baby or I don’t want a baby; and, 4. I miss my estranged relatives or I never want to see them again.

Well ok then.  That clears everything up.

As you probably already guessed, I actually know nothing more about my dreams than I did before my extensive internet research.  As an added bonus, I’m even more confused than I was before I researched the dreams.  The only difference is that now, I am no longer interested one way or the other and could not possibly care any less.  Now I’m just dreaming of day I can forget the whole thing.

Can anybody hear me?

For some odd reason that I was never 100% clear on, homophobia is defined as a dislike of and/or prejudice toward homosexual people.

I always wondered how that could be, when “homo” simply means human being/man or same (depending on your root language) while “phobia” is indicative of an unnatural fear of or aversion to something.

So, how exactly do these two words, “homo” and “phobia,” when merged together become a dislike of and/or an unnatural fear of homosexuals?

Where’s the fear?   Do people think that homosexuals are stalking around every corner, just waiting to ambush them on the street and shower them in their homosexuality?

Is that a thing?

It would seem to me that someone who is homophobic would have to, by extension, possess an overall fear of or dislike of people, heterosexual and/or heterosexual alike.  After all, since you can’t readily tell who is gay and who isn’t, the supposed homophobic would be living in a state of constant paranoia and worry.

While I readily admit that I am from the school of thought that men should be with women and that women should be with men exclusively, I don’t understand how that fact means that I dislike and/or am afraid of homosexuals?

What a quantum leap!

Just like how I admit my own thoughts on the matter, I readily accept the fact that others disagree with my position on homosexuality and, as such, live their lives to that end.

Likewise, I also readily accept that there are many who are not homosexual, but who approve of and support others in the lifestyle.

What I don’t get is how approval of the lifestyle is just that—approval—while disapproval of the lifestyle is a dislike and/or fear of homosexuals.  Shouldn’t that be classified as homophilia or something similar?

Must I change my personal feelings on homosexuality itself so as not to be labeled a hater of people?

Why am I only free to approve of homosexuality but not free to disapprove of a homosexual lifestyle without being labeled?

On the flipside, is there a label for homosexuals who believe that homosexuality is preferable to heterosexuality?

Would that automatically mean that they hate and/or are unnaturally afraid of heterosexuals?

That would be utterly ridiculous, right?  So, why isn’t it just as ridiculous in the reverse?

And, what about supporters of homosexuals who are heterosexuals?  Is there a label for them?

Be it known that I disapprove of the homosexual lifestyle. However, be it also known that I don’t dislike nor am I afraid of homosexuals.  So why is there a label for me?  And why is that label homophobic?

This is going to sound cliché, but it’s true.  I have met, worked with and have relatives that fall somewhere along the LGBTQ spectrum.  However, I can say with certainty that I have never met a homosexual individual that I was any more afraid of than a heterosexual individual.  Should I be?

Truth be told, I’ve probably met more than a few heterosexuals who have given me pause.  Is there a word for that?

Can anyone hear me?

I recently heard a newscast where psychologists and other so-called experts went on record as saying that spankings make children violent and can be responsible for violent behavior later in their adult years.  Ultimately, they concluded that children should never be spanked.

I must admit that those experts and their associated statements made me very, very angry.  Why you might ask?

Generations of Blacks (men, women and children of all ages) experienced whippings/beatings/battering and other abuse during slavery at the hands of White slave masters!  Even years afterwards, with the formation of terrorist groups like the Klan and the actions of various Night Riders (to say nothing of the legally sanctioned actions of various police agencies and forces), Black people from cradle to grave were beaten, brutalized and subjected to emotional and psychological trauma for well over a century.  Throughout all this time, where were the psychological analyses from the so-called experts of that time, or even today, stating that enslaving Black people and subsequently beating them viciously well into their advanced years would result in them becoming hostile, with possible violent implications for future generations?

Post-slavery, Blacks adopted many of the same violent practices that they learned and experienced first-hand during slavery when raising their own children, both due to their own traumatic experiences and as a defense mechanism.  Fear for their children’s very lives prompted many Black parents to beat their children incessantly so that they would not be killed by Whites who perceived them as not knowing their place in society.

Again, where were/are the psychological analyses affirming that Blacks experiencing extreme violence and trauma during and after slavery might negatively affect every area of Black life in present and future generations?

I mean, there have been plenty of studies and questionable reports regarding violence in the Black community and/or depicting blacks as somehow more prone to violence than other races of people as an inherent result of their blackness.  Yet, not one psychological analysis attributes any part of this violent behavior to the known violence experienced by Blacks during and post slavery.

Where are the multi-paged psychological reports that explain in horrific detail that slavery and the vestiges thereof cannot be ignored as a causative factor of violence within the black community?

How can this be?  If psychologists can attribute violence in adults to spankings as children then why not attribute the brutal beatings during slavery as a factor in Blacks being violent afterwards?

Is my conclusion really so farfetched?

These same so-called experts want parents to be responsible for creating violent children (and later adults) by spanking them, but don’t assign this same level of blame and responsibility to white America for damaging and creating violent Black children that later become violent Black adults!

Either spankings cause violence in children—all children regardless of race—resulting in violent adults or they don’t. You simply can’t have it as a rule for one group or one demographic and not the other that is…unless, of course, we’re dealing with unequal standards or some form of associated, culturally spread schizophrenia?

But that’s another blog for another day!

Can anybody hear me?

From the title of this blog, you probably think that I’ll be discussing the supernatural or the occult or something of that nature.  Rest assured, I am not.

But regardless of what direction this blog is headed in, you can probably surmise that, based on the title, I’m feeling some kind of way.

To be clear, 2019 has not been kind to me.  In fact, it would be fair to say that this year has been pretty monstrous.  I know that this probably makes me sound as if I’m a very ungrateful person since I’m alive and relatively healthy, all things considered.  But trust me, nothing could be further from the truth.

I appreciate life—my life in particular.  And I try to take nothing and no one for granted.  Be that as it may, I can’t help but feel like this year is already a bust.  You see, 2019 is the year that virtually everybody—everyone dear to me—died.

I mean, it’s only May and I’ve already lost enough friends and family to last a lifetime!  With that revelation, I don’t know what to do with myself.

I know in my mind that I have to go on with my life.  I have to pick up and keep moving forward.  However, in my heart, I am totally devastated.  I’m just going through the motions because I don’t have a choice.

Bills continue to mount.  Chores continue to require my attention.  And the sad reality is that the overwhelming responsibilities of everyday life don’t take a day off.

Truthfully, I feel as if I’m in a dream state, not truly awake and aware.  I’m just holding on by a thread, hoping that one day I’ll wake up from this nightmare!  Then, it will all be over.

And the blessed sleep that I used to depend on—that used to be my good friend—hasn’t been much of a friend at all lately.  It’s been a bit more AWOL than I remember.  And, when I do sleep, I dream dreams about my fallen friends and family members only to wake up sweaty and disoriented.  And then, to my utter chagrin, I find out that my dream was just a dream…and the people I love are still gone.  Over and over again…daily, I find this out.

So, my many wounds don’t get to heal.  In fact, every time a scab even remotely starts to form, it’s as if it gets snatched right off.  I wake up and I’m still here.  I’m back on ugly Earth.

It’s clear to me that I am sad.  I am truly, truly sad down in my soul.  However, I don’t want to burden my remaining friends and family members with my sadness.  So, I’m trying really hard to act as if nothing is wrong because I really don’t want them to worry.  After all, life is too short to worry.

So, I hope you don’t mind if I confide in you; if I tell you how devastated I really am; if I cry on your shoulder; and, scream on paper to you/at you.

I vehemently apologize for doing so, but I have to get this out!  I can’t keep it bottled up much longer.  It’s neither practical nor healthy to do so.

I just need to know that you are there…for me.  I just need to feel supported and understood.  Can you do that for me?  Would you do that for me?

Can anybody hear me?

 

Today, I have so much to write about that I don’t even know where to begin.

So much is happening so rapidly on this planet, in my family and in my personal life that as soon as I am certain that I want to write about THIS, THAT happens…and suddenly my entire course is changed.  Next thing I know, I’m writing about an ex, a horrible movie or the moon.

Oddly enough, I feel just as passionate about THIS as I feel about THAT.  How can that be?  You would think I would feel a pull SOMEwhere at SOME point!  But no.  Before long, I realize I haven’t chosen any topic and, to make matters worse, my self-imposed deadline for writing my blog is riding me like a pony.

Maybe that should be my topic?

Maybe I should write about how I drive myself crazy trying to adhere to a non-existent deadline that I created?  That should be interesting/entertaining for at least two to three lines, right?  However, I’m just not feeling it.

Maybe I should write about all the bombings, fires etc., that are dominating the daily News?  But, what more can I say about them that hasn’t already been said and said and said yet again?

Heck, by this point, even all the conspiracy theorists have already spoken.  Some have spoken more compellingly than others, but they’ve all had something to say.  Truth be told, I’m actually tired of hearing about them.  I hope I don’t come across as uncaring.  I do care; I really do.  But, enough is enough!

I’m also tired of feeling overwhelmed by all of the related details.  I’m tired of trying to categorize the latest tragic events in my head in order to make sense of them.  I’m tired of feeling like this next situation is going to be the thing that sets off the Apocalypse.  I’m tired of wondering where people’s heads are and how they think this is good or right.  I think it’s safe to say that I’m ODing on doom and gloom!

So, maybe I should steer away from tragedy?  Maybe I should write about something less ominous?  Maybe I should write about something happy?

But what?

Everything happening right now is ominous.  Nothing is lighthearted anymore.  In fact, I can’t even think of a lot of things that makes me happy long enough to forget the overwhelming sorrow that chases me daily.

So, I eat; I watch movies; I watch TV.  But with the news being what it is I try to steer clear of aggravating programs.  Unfortunately, this includes all awards programming such as the Grammy’s, the Oscars, etc., as well as the so-called “reality TV” genre.  But it seems like that’s not enough.  Lately, even the NFL draft has been getting on my nerves.

So what’s a girl to do?

Maybe, I should write about writing?  Yes. I can offer more than a few pointers on how to get your point across effectively.  I know a bit about that.

But just like the other topics I’ve already mentioned, I’m not feeling this one either.

Maybe I’m a little depressed!   Maybe I should write about that?  But I’m not really prepared to discuss depression whether real or imagined.

So, maybe I’m not depressed enough to write about depression?  Maybe I’m just sad…today?  Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow?

Maybe tomorrow I’ll write about beautiful, blue skies and cotton candy.  Who knows?  Who cares?

Can anybody hear me?

In the News last week:  Jussie Smollett

In the News this week:  Jussie Smollett.

In the News next week (you’ll never guess):  Jussie Smollett.

In fact, week after week after week after week:  The Misadventures of Jussie Smollett is THE news…to my utter dismay.

What can I say?!  I am so tired of hearing about Jussie Smollett, his arrest, his hoax, his release, his existence and anything else to do with him at this point.  In fact, hearing his name makes me sigh involuntarily.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I am not a fan or that I am a fan or that I have ever been or not been a fan.  Truth is, I’ve not seen one episode of Empire…and have no plans to change that anytime soon.  Thus, I have no particular attachment, emotion or loyalty to him, the show or to his character.  For me, the problem is simple…the overkill.  Enough already!

From the outset of this ‘made for TV’ spectacle, it was clear that whatever had taken place (or had not taken place as the case seems to be) would be played out in the media and not in a courtroom.

Remember courtrooms?

You may have heard of them.  They are places where potentially criminal cases are tried in front of a judge and jury, with one side mounting a defense and the other prosecuting.  I hear they’re really big overseas.  And, at one point, they used to be big here too…before they were replaced by a jury of social media.

At this point, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the Nigerian brothers (somehow easily confused with white attackers) who were supposedly hired by him to commit the alleged “crime.”   Now, they would have us believe that the “brothers” had been hired by Smollett himself and paid via check (of all payment methods available today).  Seriously?  A check?

I’m surprised they didn’t try to convince people the “memo” section of the check stated “Payment for media hoax.”  I mean, why not?

Who on Earth would pay for any such services with a check in 2019?  Could anyone possibly be that stupid in this age of CSI (and the like)?  Why are we even considering this foolishness?

Wait a minute…

With that last question, I’m left with an even more horrific thought.  While the country was being entertained by this and other tomfoolery, what other, way more important things were taking place behind the scenes?

What programs were being cut, what leaders were being ousted, what ordinary citizens were starving, homeless, jobless, being killed, etc. while we were ODing on foolishness?

Frankly, this felt a little too much like a daytime soap opera being presented as something actually newsworthy.  To be honest, I’m tired of entertainment being called news.  Let’s face it, Jussie Smollett’s case is not new or news!  In fact, it is quite typical.  Imagine a black man being targeted, mistreated or beaten by racist whites in America?  Now imagine that case being ruled unsolvable or some kind of figment? I mean, is any of that really farfetched?

Regardless of that, shouldn’t news provide useful information about current events that will affect the viewer…instead of gossip, innuendo and/or propaganda aimed at keeping us entertained rather than informed?

Shouldn’t major issues of politics and international relations and trade be always be pushed to the forefront of people’s minds?

Shouldn’t I be able to turn on the television or go online and immediately find out what I need to know about the world around me?

Who is dating whom in Hollywood or some Dynasty level drama isn’t exactly what I had in mind.  How about you?

Has anybody else had enough of this madness?

Can anybody hear me?

Has anyone else noticed that the negative behaviors of a few black people determine how the entire race of black people is globally perceived yet the same is not true for other races of people?

In other words, why aren’t all other races judged according to the lowest members of their race?  Why is that reserved for black people…and why does it happen at all?

Why aren’t white people in America defined by Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, Timothy McVeigh and a host of others too numerous to write about?

Why do they get to brush their bad individuals (both past and present) aside and keep positive members of the white race at the forefront while blacks are forced to carry current and historical bad members of the black race on their backs…even if their alleged crimes/actions pale by comparison to those actually committed by whites?

Why are blacks tasked to “live down” the embarrassment and shame associated with being members of the same race of any notorious black person whether directly related or not while whites are allowed to disassociate and, even worse, harshly judge other races of people as if they are somehow above reproach?

Why do black people have to constantly prove that they, individually, are one of the “good ones” and qualified, talented, moral and trustworthy enough, while other races, white people in particular, are just assumed to be so?

On the flipside, how come white people don’t feel confined/stigmatized/represented by the same or worse behaviors of members of their own race?

Where is the overall embarrassment by white people for people like BTK, Jeffrey Dahmer, the KKK etc., being members of the white race?

Meanwhile, Blacks are made to feel bad about organizing/listening to groups/individuals like the Black Panthers, Louis Farrakhan and Al Sharpton…even though they have never killed anyone?

Why, if this is a truly a nation of opportunity and innovation, do negative black people such as the DC Sniper got plenty of media time while black inventors, educators, etc., remain (if you’ll pardon the pun) hidden figures?

Why is this?

To keep this line of questioning going, why is it that if blacks like OJ Simpson are found not guilty in the penal justice system, they are still supposed to behave as if they are guilty so as not to offend white people because…or else find themselves subject to judicial manipulation/rule changes that impact their freedom regardless of the verdict?

Why are so many white people, like the Affluenza teen, who are actually found guilty of actual crimes allowed to be arrogant in their criminality?

Why are white people like Dylan Roof and others like him allowed to hide behind mental illness as an excuse for their actual guilt/racist/white supremacist behavior while blacks who commit lesser crimes are labeled as demonic and extended no sympathy?

Why is that?

While we’re at it, why are blacks supposed to be harder on each other than whites are on their own?

For example, why are blacks supposed to abandon Cosby who is 82 years old and in prison, yet, whites aren’t expected to do the same with Weinstein?  Hefner?  Clinton?  Trump?

Are these white men a credit to their race any more than Cosby is to the black race?

Why is there a surge in incidents of white people calling the police on black people for performing everyday tasks like walking around, buying coffee, etc. and no surge of outrage from supposedly God-fearing, morally upstanding whites?

Why is there no outrage from those who claim to be pro-life and love people following the random shooting of unarmed blacks ranging from 12 years of age to senior status by law enforcement?

Where’s the white outrage?

Remember Sandra Bland?

Where’s the white feminist outrage?

Yet, white America would have us to believe that this is post racial America and that blacks can actually be racist?

Why would we ever believe that foolishness?

Can anybody hear me?

As another year comes to an end, I find myself experiencing an emotion that I feel almost every year now.  In fact, as far back as I can remember, I’ve felt the same way year after year.  The funny thing is, despite what I just said, I can barely even remember what actually took place during the year.

Don’t misunderstand.  This isn’t a memory issue—this time.  I remember eating, sleeping, praying, shopping, working, cleaning, eating, writing, reading, eating…but not necessarily in that order.  You get the point.

But, here’s the thing, what I don’t remember is having any particular feelings associated with these actions.  How can that be?

How could I have vivid memories of the actions but not feel any more about them than I do throwing a napkin away?

You might be saying, so what?  If you are, does that mean you do remember?  Does it mean that you don’t remember either or that you really don’t care?  That’s fine either way.  But, I really want to know if anybody else has forgotten or if it’s just me?  And, more than that, is this how it’s supposed to be?

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I don’t feel sad or even depressed.  But, I can’t say that I feel happy either.  And, that’s almost the problem!

Aren’t I supposed to feel something?  All the time?  Most of the time?  Sometimes?

Shouldn’t I know which one I’m feeling at any given time?  Does anybody know or are the people who seem to know just faking?  Or maybe pretending is a better word?  Acting like they think they are supposed to act?

To be clear, I find myself completing the actions I did mention with proficiency, but it’s almost like a checklist.  I’m borderline robotic.

In fact, I seem to get the most satisfaction from completing the listed task (and thus checking it off for a time) rather than from participating in any of them.

Now that I think about it, the fact that I refer to them as tasks is probably cause for some of my uneasiness and concern.

When did life become just a series of tasks to complete?

On the flip side, I could be making more of the situation than it warrants.  Maybe I’m just an ordinary, everyday person who feels like every other ordinary, everyday person who is simply trying to confirm my ordinary, everyday status in a world where the ordinary and the everyday is always under attack for not being extraordinary.

But, what does extraordinary really mean?   Would I perform my tasks with a smile, if I were more extraordinary?

I don’t know but, I’m sure willing to give it a try!

Can anybody hear me?