Dead Souls

"I see dead people," is a line from a movie that a lot of people like.  I see a lot of dead souls, which you can see in people's eyes.  I work with people who's souls are on life support.  Like many people, they spend a lot of time working a boring job that they don't like, which kills the soul.  They stare at their smartphones, and they live for their time in front of the TV. 
"You can be anything you want to be," is 99.9% bullshit.  How many people would like to be Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger, LeBron James, or Stephen Curry?  Lots.  But only 4 of them are.  The vast majority of us have to settle for jobs, careers, and lives that we don't really want. 
My soul is mostly dead.  My writing gives me hope.  As previously mentioned, I'm working on a comedic book, which is close to being finished.  I'm excited about that, but I can't help reminding myself that, due to overpopulation, I'm living in a world of billions, many of whom are desperate for attention.
I'm grateful for the page views this blog gets.  It's dark, but perhaps people appreciate the no-bullshit realism here.  I have tons of things to write about here, but, as I just mentioned, my main focus is my next book, as it should be.  Several people have told me I'm funny (unsolicited), so I suppose that comedy is my forte.  That's all for now.

Tragedy

 
I'll begin with the animals.  Innumerable animal lives have been tragic.  Humans have played a huge part in that: using them any way they see fit.  How many cows would have been great mothers, but weren't given a chance, because their calves were taken away shortly after birth, so people could take the milk instead?  How many pigs, chickens, and turkeys would have made great pets?  I've seen pigs that were pets (on TV).  I saw a pig push a soccer ball around.  I saw a pig put a toy back in the toy box once she was finished with it.  I have cuddled with pigs and given them belly rubs.  When I began to rub their bellies, they acted just like dogs do; they rolled onto their sides so they could get proper belly rubs.  Of course, most pigs aren't pets.  Many of them are kept in gestation crates, where they have no room to walk anywhere, or even turn around.  That's their reality until it's time to be murdered.  Hens make great pets too.  There's an organization called HenPower, which brings hens to senior citizens living in nursing homes.  Hens make great pets, because they're soft, and they don't bite (even though they have every right to bite people considering what we've done to them).  Turkeys have made great pets too.  I saw one running with the family dog and a human friend.  How many great animal friendships would have developed if we hadn't separated them for our own selfish reasons?  The way people have treated countless animals is horrible: denying them a chance to live natural, happy, peaceful lives.
Then there are people who have lived tragic lives.  The cemeteries are full of them.  So many people had so much promise, but life didn't treat them fairly.  As I've mentioned before, people come from 3 basic sorts of families: those that are abusive, those that are unsupportive, and those that are very helpful.  When ti comes to people who have lived tragic lives, none immediately come to mind. That's because many of the lucky people are the rich and famous ones.  Donald Trump had a rich daddy.  I used to act; people told me I was good at it.  So I can't help focusing on actors who have made it as a result of nepotism: Charlie Sheen, George Clooney, and Angelina Jolie are only a few of them.  I could go on and on with that list.
I can't help thinking that my life will end in tragedy: for me, a big one, but, for the world, it wouldn't even register.  I've been told that I'm funny.  I know I haven't shown that side here.  But I've written a lot of comedic material.  Lately, I've been reviewing it and trying to organize it.  I may not have time to do anything with it.  Time, and money, is running out for me.  It turns out that time really is money. When my credit card won't let me have any more cash advances, I'm looking at homelessness or suicide.        
I keep trying to find a job.  I recently "tried out" for a job as a pants presser in a dry cleaner shop.  I was shown how to do it.  It involved 2 machines and an iron.  I dressed up; I shouldn't have.  It was hot there.  Apparently, I didn't do very well.  They didn't call me back.  I tried my hardest, though.  First prize, you live.  Second prize, you die.             

Tiny Leopard-Print Shoes

How could I?  Sure, there's a violation,but I can't unsettle children.  It's not right.  My neighbor has been harboring peoplein his apartment that, I believe, aren't on the lease.  At least 2 young children, and their mother, have been joining my neighbors: a married couple.  There has been extra noise to deal with.  The kids have been loud as early as 7:00 am in the hallway, which I've heard.  First of all, it's not cool to snitch.  Secondly, it's not cool to mess with the lives of kids.  I need to tell myself there things, because I don't like the situation.  I need to try to stop myself from calling the rental office about this situation.  It helps to picture the tiny leopard-print shoes I saw in the hallway outside my neighbor's door.  They must belong to one of the girls that's staying there.  I haven't walked a mile in her shoes, and I never will.  My feet couldn't fit into them. 

Never Give Up

sisters

Last week, I was disappointed with myself.  I'm less so now.  That was a strange incident.  I'm ready for it now.
Recently, a loud group of kids saw a groundhog or two.  They saw him and/or her go into the hole that's right next to the building I live in.  They began to have a discussion about what they should do.  One of them suggested trying to chase them.
The oldest girl in the group made me proud.  She said, "How would you like to be chased?"  It gave me hope for the future.
Then one of the other kids said, "I'd love it; I love to play tag."  They're not "playing tag," kid.  They''re terrified and running for their lives.  One of them threw something, like a rock, down the hole.  That was my cue.
"Leave them alone," I said out my bedroom window.  They looked up at me.  They seemed to be startled.  They ran away.  I did not yell.  I did not have a mean tone in my voice.  Regardless, they stopped terrifying defenseless animals.
I'm not the only person around here who loves groundhogs.  I heard something, so I looked out the window.  Two maintenance workers were driving around on a golf cart (They don't walk anywhere.).  One of the guys was saying, "Look at them!" Then he said it again.  He was referring to two baby groundhogs who were running for cover.  To my eyes, he looked like a cool, possibly tough, young guy.  But I heard his voice raise when he told his coworker to look at the groundhogs.  I believe he was delighted by the sight of the baby groundhogs.
Then, when I went downtown, I saw groundhogs grazing there.  They were doing it in an area where people were all over the place.  There was a workplace on one side and plenty of downtown traffic on the other.  They didn't have a lot of room to themselves.  Not surprisingly, they didn't seem to be as afraid of people as the suburban groundhogs that I'm used to.  Two guys looked at them and began speaking to each other in Spanish.  I kept an eye on them, but it seemed like they were just looking.  Groundhogs are a North American beastie.  Not everyone is as fortunate as I am to see them every day: except for winter.