Betrayal

I’ve had a lot of betrayal in my life--- and I suppose I have committed my share of betrayal too. It’s an end of the world feeling if you’re on the receiving end. You think to yourself you will never be the same and how can I go on? But we do.

The worst betrayal in the world is not your spouse or lover cheating on you, or a good friend sleeping with your husband or wife… the worst betrayal is when your own country betrays you. Since the election of Donald Trump, I have felt a deep betrayal. And yes – life will go on. Not like before though. Not for me.

This country has turned its collective back on everything good about it – and jumped into the cesspool with the Machiavellian Trump. The people that chose to believe Trump’s nonsensical blabbering about everything-- over the 30 years of cleared investigations into Hillary Clinton's life—both public and private, betrayed their own country.

His appointees tell the whole story. Mirroring himself, he’s appointed people that are racists, bigots and in fact, fascists. The neo-Nazi idolize Trump because he basically made it okay to for them to hate blacks, Mexican’s, Muslims, Jews, LGBT, and pretty much anyone that is not of white Anglo-Saxon origin, and made it okay to commit crimes against these people.

His appointees want to take the great open lands of this country and destroy them for profit.  (Mostly oil, coal and construction.)

His appointees want to dismantle the education system so the poor and marginalized will truly have no chance.

His appointees want to end the ACA, Medicare, and Social Security. (That would include your disability checks for those of you collecting.)

His appointees think it’s okay to torture the enemy even though the most knowledgeable generals say it does not work.

His appointees want give massive tax benefits to the top 1% -- and almost nothing to the middle class. Let them eat cake.  

His appointees collective experience in the fields they are being chosen for is almost nil.

One (or more) of his appointees is mentally ill.

Donald Trump has no regard for women—he is, in fact the purest definition of a misogynist.

He is a bully; he is a spoiled, rich asshole. He is the kind of guy that makes waiters want to spit in his food. He may not drink, but he has all the earmarks of an abusive alcoholic—right down to the memory impairments and the inability to own his shortcomings.

Donald Trump has mentioned detention camps for Muslims, and mass deportations. Of course he’s back peddled because someone probably told him that would be against the law. I’m sure though, they advised him to change the law first.

He does not comprehend the Constitution of the United States, the Bill of Rights,  the Articles of War and the myriad of active treaties we have with other nations and what ending them would mean.  

Donald Trump is a professional bull-shitter. He duped half the country into thinking he’s smart, when clearly he is learning impaired at the least, and downright stupid at most. He is a pathological liar—and I have experience with that personality type and I can tell you my alarms went off with Donald Trump in 2004 when he had that ridiculous television show. It took me maybe a minute to size him up. Maybe less.

I can’t turn off my ideologies to make peace with the less than half of the country that voted for him. I can’t make myself respect the thought process that led some to believe fake news and a big bag of wind. I cannot and will not support a racist, misogynist, a con artist, a fraud, and possibly a rapist.

He has aligned himself with the American Taliban – and the White Nationalist Nazi Party, elite right wing billionaires and Vladimir Putin.  He is by all definitions a fascist. And if news reporters would do their job, I'm sure someone could dig up something heinous in his past-- or present.  

I can’t force myself to say it’s just 4 years because it will take 20 years to unfuck everything he and his team of pond scum destroy. I don’t think he will make it one year – I think he will be impeached. But that leaves us with a disgusting man who made the women in his state look at scans of their dead babies and have funerals for their miscarriages and abortions. That is not Christian by the way—that is cruel and unusual and more in keeping the with Sharia Law. And by the way-- why is he trying to keep his emails secret? 

The personal betrayal to me is nothing compared to the far reaching and over-all effect this presidency will have on the world. It’s already caused fear, the likes of which has not been seen since Hitler started his movement to ethnically cleanse Germany. The whole world is watching-- and America just blinked.

We are a Nation of Freedom. We are a Nation of Laws. We are the Nation of Hope that we share world-wide.Until now, other nations took their lead from us.These are the ideals our troops have fought and died for...they didn't sacrifice their lives, lose limbs, sight, sound and for many their ability to live any kind of normal life, so that the rich could get richer. Now we are showing the world the worst side of us... and what happens when capitalism is controlled by just a few elite and not the people.  

We are the home to Lady Liberty at whose feet Emma Lazarus’ poem boldly states:

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"  

This is the one betrayal in my life I don’t think I’ll forget. I may move on (to protest) - but I will never forget. History will never forget. 

Finding HOPE in a Depressed State of Affairs

HOPE

Almost every morning, before my eyes are opened or my hearing aids are in, I can hear the ding from my phone alerting me to a message from my grandsons mom. She sends me pictures of him almost every day—and so I wake up filled with joy and love of life. I see his little face and his beautiful eyes and amazing, almost always smile and I melt. I’m a proud Nonnie, to be sure. But I also count my blessings. I’m lucky to have his mom. We’ve grown close these last 2 years and she checks on me as much as I check on her and the baby.

Every day, as I look at the pictures of the baby I feel peace and happiness. Even though I can’t hug and kiss my little guy, I am happy to see his pictures and have an occasional Facetime kiss. By bedtime though, my whole body hurts—including my heart. Sometimes I get a night time picture too- and that is the best medicine of all.

Lately my days don’t stay happy. Besides my own heartbreak of not seeing my son or knowing where he is or how he’s doing, which leaves a giant hole in my heart—I won’t lie about that—besides that, the daily news wears me out. The daily insanity of Donald Trump, the daily killings of black people, the daily killings of police, the 22 veteran suicides a day, the daily killings of children by their parents (or with their parent’s weapons). The daily racism, the daily homeless issues, the daily wars in the Middle East and Africa. More than 140,000 people, over 7,000 of them children, have been killed in Syria's uprising-turned-civil war. How is that okay? There’s more- I just can’t get it all out with causing my head to explode.

The daily commentaries from the morons of America – spewing more hatred than I can imagine—that stuff has worn me out. The lack of basic knowledge of the US Constitution, the Bill of Rights; basic US History, not to mention World History, all make a nice setting for Donald Trump – he plays to that audience. He knows they won’t pick up a book and check anything. Oh, maybe they’ll google – that’s his source too.

Of course, I have to hang in there. People need me, I have a job to do, I have a couple of jobs, a house to sell, ads to get out every day, I don’t have the luxury of drinking my problems away, or going to bed for a month, I have to remain present and be able to function—knowing I can’t help anyone if I don’t take care of myself. But, I am tired lately.

I am tired of arguing with people about politics. I am tired of trying to make an ignorant nation wake the fuck up and see Donald Trump for the fraud that he is. He’s a misogynist, a racist, a bigot and frankly – his biggest fault in my book—he is stupid, and too stupid to know it. You can be all those other things and learn different—but he is not teachable. His narcissistic personality disorder assures us of that. Oh, and he has NO VALUES. None- nada. Why can't people see that? 

He would start more wars that we can’t finish. He would send more young men to war who, if lucky enough to come home alive – may commit suicide in the next 10 years. He wants to save money by ending military bureaucracy before he even knows what that bureaucracy is for. He does not understand the military at all. And oh- by the way—the Generals for Trump- none of the signatories of that letter was a service chief or led a major combat command. They were (all retired) the bureaucratic, pencil pushers who we taxpayers now support.

I’m kept going by that baby and his mom. I’m kept going by a few friends that understand the pain of not being able to help my son—or see him or hear his voice. I’m grateful he is not one of the 22. That’s what I hang on to—that and the hope I can make a difference for future troops and future veterans, and sufferers of combat PTSD. I’m kept going by a few friends that have shared my joy of being a Nonnie – albeit long distance. I’m kept going by amazing friends and family who love me. I’m kept going by beauty and art and my dog, Toshi. I am kept going by my never give up, stubborn, personality that compels me to get up every day and keep putting one foot in front of the other, no matter what. I hold back tears, and push through the pain so I can be there for those who rely on me—and even those who don’t. I want to be there for people in worse shape than me, people who stay quiet in their pain while it chips away at their soul. For people who have lost much more than me. And for the people that have always been there for me. That is my goal.

I hope when this election is over – some of the hatred will subside. I suspect it will linger though, no matter who wins. Donald Trump revealed a lot about this great nation –  that it’s full of racist and bigots—and many of them are gunslingers. If he does not win- he will call upon them – I’m just guessing of course. Let’s hope I’m wrong -- but let's hope he does not win. 

I am kept going because I want to see Hillary become President-- no matter what, that is a vote I intend to make. 

Why I'm Voting for Hillary Clinton

I’m not sure if I can write about the upcoming Presidential Race without offending someone, but I hope I don’t. The mention of Donald Trump sends my hackles up – and maybe the mention of Hillary Clinton sends your hackles up. So – I’m going to try to explain – much like I did when I decided to vote for President Obama in 2012, why. I don't expect to change one mind- so this is not a debate- this is me- sharing my logic.

The divisiveness is enough for me. It’s not like I can’t see Hillary’s faults. She’s a Pitbull. If you get to close too her face she may bite you. Then say it’s your fault – but, if we are honest here – if you get too close to a Pitbull and it bites you it IS your fault.

She has been investigated for everything under the sun – and yet never indicted for anything. The emails… are a stupid witch hunt. Colin Powell, Condi Rice’s staff used personal severs, and LATER the emails were deemed Secret or Top Secret but not at the time they were received or replied to – exactly the same as Hillary Clinton’s.

After 11 hours of grilling- of which I watched at least 10 hours of – I am convinced beyond a doubt that Hillary Clinton is not lying about Benghazi. If you are not convinced you might want to check your motives and re-watch the tape- if, indeed, you ever watched it. If you’re still not convinced, then nothing I say or do will change your mind – (and that’s fine).  

Republicans have been gunning for her as long as I can recall. When she was the First Lady and proposed a new health care system they came unglued. And she’s been in their sights ever since. (and was before – by simply being married to Bill Clinton)

She’s been called a liar, a murderer, a suicide facilitator. She’s been called a feminist, she’s been called anti-feminist, she’s been called about every name in the book – and honestly 8 years ago I did not vote for her. I was a one issue voter and because I was so afraid that the Democrats did not know how to run a war – I voted for John McCain (and I’m still embarrassed about that) – but the minute President Obama won- I got behind him. I hoped his lack of experience would be made up for with intellect – and the 2^nd time around I got behind him with my vote.

Since 2003, when my son joined the Marine Corps, I have come full circle. I started out a Democrat and here I am again. Because I wanted my son to be safe in a war zone – I wanted to make sure the tax dollars would not be taken away from him- (they were anyway) I wasn’t thinking down the line- I wasn’t thinking about the VA and its hurdles. I wasn’t thinking about other parts of government that could use some tax dollars- I was selfishly focused on my kid—and his buddies- and the sons and daughters of my friends. I went against my own intuition- and my son’s wishes.  

But even at my most “right” thinking – I have always at heart leaned left.  I lean left because I believe in humanity. I believe in helping others. I don’t think helping people hinders them. Otherwise we would call it hindering.  Here, let me hinder you with that door.

For me- still today Foreign Policy is a huge factor. I am convinced beyond a doubt that Donald Trump would lead us into a war bigger than we could handle – just to be able to say his hoo-hoo is bigger.

He is an unfiltered mouth unattached to a lame brain. I’ve heard that a number of military and military families are behind him- he seems to know the hot spots to get people fired up – like today, when he spoke about the VA and our veterans being treated – “worse that illegal immigrants.” (a total lie) I hear, because he speaks their language… but – is their language hate? Is their language more war? I find that hard to believe. Most of the families I know – are still trying to cope with the fallout from the Middle East wars. Most of the people I know would not wish another war on another mother or father. Not to mention all the spouses, and children. And sure the VA is a bit of a mess- it’s been broken since WW1 –it needs to be revamped 100%- but NOT privatized.

I think – the best gift we could give our veterans is no war. Imagine that. And for all the kids that are running to the recruiter’s office ready to go out and have a shootout, or save the world- go to the VA first – and take a look at what war does.

I’m not anti-Military – we need our military because we are the arbiters of peace around the world. Much to the chagrin of many- it’s who we are. We need our military because ISIL and the Taliban are not imaginary enemies. And that nut in North Korea needs constant monitoring.  But we need to be smart about it.  

I have seen, up close and very personal what war does to people; to our veterans, and their families. The invisible wounds are endless and relentless in their ability to decimate life. Some can’t recover. The real fatality numbers from OIF and OEF is much higher if you count the suicides during and after.

I am not an impressionable person- in fact, I have no super heroes. I have my son – who has been my hero since long before he became a Marine—because he saved my life. He’s not perfect either—far from it actually. I don’t expect people to be perfect. I do expect them to be as smart as they can be.

I honestly can’t get a handle on why people like Donald Trump. He’s crass, he’s a braggart, he’s horribly misinformed about history, the Constitution, the Senate, Congress and well, just about everything that involves the United States- not to mention Europe, Asia, the Middle East and outer space. He proposes things that could never happen—and he doesn’t even know why they could not.

He attracts the basest human beings. Anti- everything people. And then a handful of people that are worried about taxes- and I can tell you right now – most of them don’t make enough money to worry about it.  Maybe what he says about keeping Mexicans out, and keeping Muslims out is provocative to some people who have known no other cultures. I don’t know what to say to that since this is a global world in business and economy- and you can learn about any other culture by reading some books.

Hillary is not stupid. She’s had more hands on experience regarding running the United States of America than any other person running (and not running). She defends women’s rights, she is pro health care and will not pull the plug on ACA and turn our country into a laughing stock of the health care world. She’s not too shy to strike if a strike is needed – she’s no knee-jerk though. She won’t be challenging Putin to a “whose is bigger” contest. But she won’t back down from his rhetoric either.

And Bernie… I got nothing for Bernie – He does not have Foreign Policy experience. In my opinion he’s too old – he’s patriarchal—and I find that in itself annoying. Bernie has some good ideas, some not so great – and would never see the light of day.  I don’t think he’s the nominee- but he’ll go back to the Senate with more gravitas and do some good there – which frankly we really need him there.

Anyway –In case you have not guessed, I’m voting for Hillary. I think at 64 I will finally vote for a woman but not just because she’s a woman – but because she’s smart – my #1 requirement these days. She’s a mom and a grandmother, and she has been to every country in the world and she has mixed it up with some real bad asses and lived to tell the story. She knows some stuff and I am not embarrassed to vote for her.

Happy New Year 2016-- Finally

I was all ready to write this great New Year’s blog. I usually write in my head for a couple of days before I commit to paper so I was ready to dazzle everyone with my profundity. I was going to write about how not to drag all the crap of the last year into the new year. How to just take the good stuff and leave the rest. How to turn grief into sorrow and ultimately into sorrow lite. How to let go of anger and don’t even think about revenge—such a fool’s game.

I wanted to write about how important forgiveness is, and that in order to have a heart at peace you must forgive and mean it. I was ready to admit that my dislike (ok, hate) of Donald Trump and the rest of those Bozo’s in the GOP have made me somewhat bitter in the last few months but I have tried- I mean with all my heart, to keep an open mind and try to understand Freedom means different things to different people. But...

I keep reading about the Syrian refugees, the people I was saying we should help three years ago, and seeing comments that exude hatred beyond my comprehension. Really, I could not hate that much. I guess I always try to put myself in other people’s shoes. Or I try to figure out how they got the way they are. I wanted to write about that and say- stop it. Just stop being mean.  

How to make a monster? Beat a child, starve a child of love, of food, of clothing or a place to live or a place to even poop. Let them see their mother raped, and their father blown up and their siblings beaten into submission. Fill his head with shit until it explodes.  (And takes a few people with him.) The kids of the middle east have dealt with all of the above. Not just Syria, but Iraq, Afghanistan, Africa, Palestine – anywhere there is poverty, there are people there to take advantage of it. There will be more terrorist-- because the root cause is not being addressed. And hey people-- the root cause is not Islam.

So for anyone that does not understand that—let me assure you – we have been making monsters in the Middle East and a few here too. There is a reason why ISIL targets poor blacks looking for recruits. Who in this country is more susceptible than poor people, with not enough food, living in overcrowded project housing, with rats for household pets. If I were looking for recruits that were already angry—I’d look in the segregated (yeah it really is segregated) parts of the country where education is almost nonexistent, where drugs are more available than food, where families have been torn apart by guns and drugs and poverty.

And then mental illness. What some call evil. Back in the old days – the 1960s for my mom, mental illness was treated with shock therapy that fried your brain and left you vegetable. Oops, sorry about that, you’re not crazy or evil after all, it’s just menopause.

All these mentally ill people that shot up movie theaters and shopping centers and schools—all sick. And sure it’s hard to have compassion for the people that cause so much death and destruction, but do people hear themselves? The comments online are actually crazier than the person that caused them.

“We” didn’t make them you say? Well you’re wrong. We most certainly did. We made them here and we made them in the Middle East too. Because we chose to spend trillions on wars instead of helping people. We chose oil. We decided to take a generation of troops and ruin many of their lives for oil, for greed and our complete inability to understand Islamic countries.  

We chose to not spend money researching mental illness and preventing it. We chose to see mental illness as an evil apparition instead of a brain malfunction or undetected injury. We chose to see it as something we should pray about because that works. Ridiculous.

We choose to elect officials who are led by their pocket books and only think what people with money (the NRA, Koch Brothers) tell them to think.

For Example: Totally misinterpreting the 2^nd Amendment, and blowing by the word MILITIA and what that is exactly.

noun: militia; plural noun: militias

1.       a military force that is raised from the civil population to supplement a regular army in an emergency.

2.       a military force that engages in rebel or terrorist activities, typically in opposition to a regular army.

3.       all able-bodied civilians eligible by law for military service.

So take a look at these graphs I stole from CNN. Interesting right? – no wait. The word is embarrassing.

 

And then there is Trump who, if elected, would have us all nuked in about 20 minutes. His friend Putin might do the job, or maybe China, or Pakistan or our little, very mentally ill buddy in North Korea.

I wanted to write about all that. Maybe offer a few answers, or quote Mother Teresa or Walt Disney. “It’s a Small World After All.”  

But let me take a deep breath here.

Because yesterday I got a text from my grandson’s mom that he was in the hospital. He’s got a virus, he’ll be fine. But it was a big smack in the head for me. It immediately changed my perspective from the now—to the future. I really want to leave this world better for him. I don’t think I can blog my way there. I don’t know how to leave him a world without war or gunslingers or torture or famine or air to breathe. I want him to be able to grow up in a world that accepts single moms without condemnation,  that excepts gay and trans people. I don’t want him to be afraid of people that don’t look like him. I want him to have the best health care, the best schools and have it all without being told it’s a burden on his family or his country. I want him to not know the kind of fear that terrorism provokes.

I can write about it and I can vote. But there should be more.

I guess I’ll figure it out. Whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing, I always do.

Happy PEACEFUL New Year

My Manic 2015

It was a hard year and my best year too. A manic year really. My highest high and my lowest low came simultaneously. As one life was entering –another was slipping away, and I did a balancing act that would rival Philippe Petit, while helping others not fall off their rope. Take my hand. Take my hand. Take my hand.  

I felt completely alone, battling demons that were taking away the love of my life—the air in my lungs. And suddenly 30 or so of my best friends and family surrounded me, lifted me up and supported me through the following months, so I could help the people that needed me.

Then my light arrived. My little love arrived with healing powers, the likes of which are for fairytales only—not real life. Certainly not my life.

He arrived in the spring, bringing hope, like all new things in spring. A ray of light, a purpose, a cause to keep not just me moving forward but others too. More than a few of us needed him. I cried tears of joy and then set out to do the impossible—and did it with the help of my friends.

It’s always like this—every year, losses and gains. People pass away, babies are born. It’s the way of the world. But this year was different. It was a massive rescue mission, headed by old friends—some of whom are Marine Moms, others who have known me 40+ years and others who have known me fewer years, but immediately understood the urgency—the life or death of everything.

The best was going to Europe to meet my grandson thanks to my friends—and then having he and his mom stay with me for almost 3 months. No- wait. The best was my son coming back from the edge. Or maybe it was all of us together for the best Thanksgiving ever. Or maybe it was realizing what amazing friends and family I have. It’s hard to say what part of wonderful is the most wonderful.

I can say this, I am grateful.

Because I am so grateful, I plan on spending 2016 raising awareness for what I have deemed the crime of the century. PTS. Post-Traumatic Stress—specifically combat related.  And Veteran Suicide as a direct result of PTS and other injuries. If you follow me on Facebook you’ll see many posts from me regarding missing veterans, at risk veterans, homeless veterans, and their families and caretakers who suffer secondary PTS due to living in crisis mode 24/7.

I learned first hand in this last year that emotional support for families of veterans is crucial. I want all the families to be able to ask for help if they need it. Doing this alone should not even be an option.

Veteran issues are not and should never be viewed as political. We have an all-volunteer military from all walks of life, who have risked life and limb and a variety of illnesses, so we—civilians, didn’t have to go to war. We owe them. So, no matter what side of the political fence you are on—I hope you have an interest in helping me help them. If you can help spread needed information, and resources for vets and families—I will be forever grateful to you.

May the New Year bring us peace around the world. A lofty wish, I know. But if enough people really want that- it will happen. I learned this year—you can change the tide; you just need the right people to help you.

Below are some helpful links if you are in need of help. 

www.facebook.com/TrevorGouldMemorial

www.heartstowardhome.com

www.veteranscrisisline.net

I Forgive You

He sat in my kitchen, in a chair with one leg pulled up to his chest, and his chin on his knee, watching me cook. I was cooking and talking to the dog, and bantering back and forth with our 12-year-old son, when I said something that made him laugh. And because I like it when people think I’m funny, I stopped and smiled at him—you know the smile? The one that says, see, I’ve still got it. He was smiling back. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I don’t hate you anymore. He said.

“Ha! I don’t hate you anymore either.” 

It was mostly true for both of us. 

The 12-year cold war. Over just like that. Except for a few skirmishes.   

As the years went by, I imagined, as we got older, and his parents did too, I would help him take care of them. I imagined that someday we would be roommates, with separate rooms, with him beating me at Scrabble, and us arguing over politics or something equally arguable. I imagined we would be grandparents together, both vying for top spot on the grandparent roll call. 

On December 31^st. 2010, I called him to say Happy New Year. And I meant it with all my heart. He said Happy New Year back to me—and I could tell he meant it too. Six days later my son called me telling me his dad had just died. 2011 was not a happy year at all.  I cried for days. I cry still. That grandchild I imagined is here now but he won’t get to know him. So many moments lost. 

That day in my kitchen was the closest either one of us ever got to an apology.  Neither of us ever said I forgive you—but I’m sure we both meant that. I meant that. I guess I can’t put words in his mouth now. 

My life changed that day. A big dark cloud disappeared but I didn’t notice it until later. I can say now… that when all that hurt and anger left, I started breathing. My brain started working better and my life started falling into place. 

If I have learned nothing else in my life, I’ve learned to forgive. Even when we don’t want to. Even when we think that is that last thing we will ever do-- it’s what we should do to free ourselves from the hate that devours our heart and spirit. It’s a gift to yourself to forgive—and maybe a gift to the other person too, but that’s okay, because you just never know.

Burnt Toast

How many times have you burned toast in your life?  Me… I have burned loaves.

I remember when I was little, and if you knew me, you’ll remember too, I was the kind of kid that would throw a fit over burned toast. A real fit, an end of the world fit, the kind where you have to restrain the child because they are flailing and may well hurt themselves kind of fit. Yep, that was me. 

Somehow, my mother survived that. “No problem” she might have said, as she scraped that toast with a knife, and the darkest crumbs fell into sink or the garbage. But you could not ever convince me that toast was not ruined. It was ruined, and I would never eat it no matter what. 

Then my mom would say, “Okay, I’ll make you new toast.” And proceed to give me my old toast after pretending to make new toast—and voila, I was happy. At least for the moment. I didn’t realize then of course, and maybe not until this morning, that much of my life has been burnt toast.  I have scraped the burn off of many a'slice. 

I’ve scraped it off my broken heart, my fragile ego, and my frail and dusty brain. Sometimes, I had to throw a fit first. Sometimes, I just wanted to throw myself away and give up … piece of shit toast. I’m toast. I’m not worth saving. But then… I would scrape myself off. 

Burned toast is temporary. It’s fixable. No, not without some scars… there will be spots visible to the naked eye. Everyone will see them, but they’ll think – wow… good for you toast—you saved yourself and you look pretty damn good. And toast will look in the mirror and say… “yep.” 

I’ve had the opportunity, recently, to review my life a bit. I usually try not to dwell on the past, I have made so many mistakes that thinking about the past undoubtedly brings up some remorse, some regrets, and often some embarrassment. But when I look at is as a whole… my mistakes made me who I am. My successes did not. My burnt toast made me a better cook. My burnt toast taught me how to fix things that are broken and still use them. They are still good. They are not broken. I am not broken. YOU are not broken. 

We are just burnt toast.