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AN ANCESTOR’S GOODBYE
You came in through the door with the wind, manifesting on a sunbeam. Leaves that didn’t exist to the eye rustled in the ear. The dog barked; the blackbird flew. You lingered quietly in a corner. Then sometime during the night, you were gone with a squeak from the door.
Wanda Paryla 2019
Good morning, everyone. And happy Christmas Eve! I hope you have a pleasant day, especially if you have to work like I do. I have many plans and goals for 2019. No resolutions, just goals. 2018 was an unpleasant year for me. I hope it was better for you. But needless to say, I am looking for it to go bye-bye next week. 😊
WHERE FIRES GLOW
I was swinging to and fro
Hair flying
Laughing out loud
Barbaric is my memory
Devil’s on the playground
Here to erase my afflictions
God turned his back on me a long time ago
Now I live where the fires glow
Back and forth my memory rages
I struggle to keep my eyes shut
I need to stay where the fires glow
Let me rest in peaceful flame
Bottomless and salty
Protection from truths
Is the pit of the damned
Where the fires glow
Some voices, they urge me
Face your slave masters
But the fires beg me
Cover your eyes for sanity
Devil holds me
Gently in his arms
God’s gone, sweet child
So stay here where the fires glow
The fires
Avengers of my ravaged goodness
I know that I’m safe nowhere
But where the fires glow
Copyright 2018 Wanda S. Paryla
There’s a saying, printed on canvass, that hangs in my office. It reads, “Hope is a joyful expectation of good.” I’ve been contemplating that for some time now. I look at it, longingly, needless to say, each time I go into my office.
We shouldn’t give up the hope of good things to come for us or those we care for. No matter what they are. Even something as small as that you hope the cupcakes your baking don’t burn. Or that your new sweater doesn’t stretch out of shape in the wash.
Then we have those big ones. The hopes of better jobs, raises in pay, the completion of a first-draft novel, retirement in a better place. Maybe there’s the hope that your number will come in at the Roulette table, or that your square wins big on your office Superbowl bet. Or even bigger, that your body will be healed of aches, pains, or disease. Or that your mind will be healed of some ailment that your heart bares heavily…or the lack of said hope.
I find that when one finally gives up on hope is when their losses to challenges stack up. The jar full of hopelessness-es becomes a teetering tower. Sometimes, unfortunately, our tower of losses comes crashing down. And where do we go from there?
Some people do not have to fight cancer, or homelessness, or starvation to run out of hopes. Everyone has their own battles and we should not down others because someone else “has it worse than you.” No one’s failures, regrets or letdowns belong to another, and therefore cannot be understood by any other. We can sympathize, empathize, berate, hold up or slap down…but we cannot fully understand.
If you feel there is no more hope, that you have lost the last bit – don’t believe it. Do not let your mind convince you. Keep looking. Look under the bed, in a high school photo, in a book, in an old shoe box…just look. Pet a dog, listen to birds sing…watch the snow fall. But look.
A long time ago, I heard a mother tell her child to “not hope for things she can never achieve.” I call bull shit! Why? I have many hopes…dreams…that I may never – will never – achieve. But I keep them. I keep them to remind me that it can be done, and if not by me, by someone else. Fuck off, naysayers. That’s what I say.
But, yes, it’s such a heart boost to achieve a hope…such as a goal, or a life’s dream…or as something as simple as saving enough money for new shoes. They can be all sorts of things from learning to throw a ball to making a winning touchdown on Superbowl day, to baking your first “from scratch” cake to meeting and cooking with Rachel Ray, from writing an A+ school essay to writing for Time or Rolling Stone; from overcoming a sprained ankle to beating a deadly disease, or from overcoming a fear of spiders…to stepping down from a building’s ledge after a suicidal thought.
Hope is all we have when we find ourselves deep in the great abyss of losses or even choices. When we’ve lost it all or screwed it up…or someone did that for us…and there’s no person around at 1:00 A.M. to console us, there’s hope (and maybe your cat). Hope is there, smiling upon us, trying to show us the barely-there light burning at the end of a long-ass tunnel of treachery. Hope is reflected in the eyes of your deceased grandmother’s last photo, in the hoot of an owl, or in the colors of a rainbow, in the memory of how a song makes you feel, or the in the moves of an adrift feather.
Thanks for reading, and may your hopes be fulfilled.
This sort of compliments the subject of my blog from yesterday, I am Magic.
… and that’s why they will never be me.
I think it’s ridiculous…actually, it’s awful, how some people try to stop other people from being individuals. From being who they are. From doing what they must to bring fillment into their life.
People who question the choices of others who are deciphering life’s passages, really have no life of their own. Or they’re just damn right jealous. Listen, if you say you want to buy a new car, and you have a job and are credit worthy, you should be able to buy a new car. And no one, and I mean no one!…especially if you are an adult, should put in their 2 cents. They shouldn’t tell you whether or not you should buy a car. If it’s a mistake, it’s your mistake to make and all others need to shut their damn mouths.
If you want a Dodge and everyone else tells you you should buy a Ford, buy that damn Dodge. And if you want a yellow car, and everybody else is telling you should get a black or white car, buy the yellow one.
Never ever let other people deter you from your goal. Do not let them project their wants, or likes and dislikes on to you. Do what makes you happy.
Of course, like everything else, there should be a limit to this. Let’s stick to buying cars, making trips around the world, starting new jobs, or finding a new place to live. Or whether you want a dog or cat. Now when you’re out to do harm to others, or yourself, that’s when you should heed the opinions of others, and look at them as valued. Let’s live legally. We’ll all be happier that way.
I find that when trying to make life’s decisions, the naysayers get in the way. And they say things like, “Well I would never do that. I’d rather have this over that.” Well guess what God damn it, go and get it!…and leave me the hell alone. Leave all of us the hell alone. There’s some people too afraid to make a leap; to make a huge decision. They do not want to adult…Hell, no. They just freeze! And then, right when your ready to jump into the deep end, here they come with their negativity and fears…often, it’s fear of your success… of you finding happiness, or whatever it is that you seek. They fear your courage. Because they don’t have it. And they don’t want to find it. They want to, maybe unconsciously, deter you from seeking happiness altogether, much less finding it.
Too many people in the world are just sitting back floating. While many of us like to float, I prefer to float…in a swimming pool. Or in a boat on a lake. Just don’t float through what’s left of your life. If you are doing this, and you are depressed, maybe that’s why you are depressed. People can get depressed because they are being held back by their own ho-humming. There is no one responsible for your life but you. And only you! If you feel people are holding you down or are responsible for your situation, you should take a look at what you are missing. Is it education? Experience? A good attitude? Perseverance? Gumption? Hmm…I wonder. Shuck off those weights and step across that threshold that you, yourself, built to keep you in line. To keep you from living.
So what do you think? That you’re too poor, too rich, red-haired, too old, etc., to do this or that? No, you’re not. You’re just a stick-in-the-mud. Am I right? Take a good look at you. Are you a stick? If you are not a stick, but a human, jump out of the mud. As for me, I’m out…
I’m out, because I am magic…and they can never be me.
Thank you for reading. As you can see, my blog is once again alive. And I will start posting again. I’ve been through some trying times this last couple years. I was at a bad place, fighting many demons, most of my own creation. I have felt nothing but numbness and bitterness. Filling with rage. But I was not always like that. Where did I go? Even the things I love doing the most like writing and reading have suffered. The things that used to bring me happiness only caused me more pain, because I could not do them. I could not participate. And when I looked in the mirror, I saw the action behind me, but I was frozen. Like a stick in the mud. This has been going on for so long, I thought that, every now and then, I had gotten my head above water. That I was free. I even wrote blogs and Facebook posts about it. But I was just a fool. Now I have truly overcome. I have, indeed, crawled out of the mud.
I am magic. And they can never be me.
-Wanda
WHY DOES MY BRIEFCASE MATTER?: A Question of Class.
So. Here’s something regarding the subject of discrimination, prejudice or judgement that you won’t see every day.
Why do some people regard me differently when I carry a briefcase (aka: my laptop in a laptop case) to work and back?
You might be wondering why I am bringing this up? Well because there’s been so much in the news about different types of discrimination or prejudice and how one person allegedly views another for various, and sometimes odd, reasons.
I wear blue jeans and tennis shoes to work everyday. I usually just wear a colored pullover shirt…like a t-shirt, and often wear logo t-shirts on Fridays.
For the particular position I have now, I do not dress up. I do not wear slacks. I do not wear dresses or skirts. I do not wear dress shoes. And I very rarely wear makeup – mostly because in the summer my building is too damn hot to cake that shit up on my face.
Despite that I dress this way, people seemingly treat me differently when I carry a laptop. For instance, on the days that I carry a laptop/briefcase, some people waiting for, or in the elevator, wearing dresses and suits who also carry briefcases, or laptop cases, and other such bags used to carry paperwork and files, look at me and smile or make small talk. Especially men! On the days that I don’t carry said case, and might just carry my bag with my lunch in it or other personal items, they ignore me. Now why is that?
I’ll tell you why that is. It’s called class division or separation. And when they ignore me, it’s quiet discrimination. For some reason, humans eye each other trying to glean information about one another. Said info is often incorrect. We view each other in particular ways. We focus on something, something that we believe defines a person and we run with it. On the days I have a briefcase or laptop case, I am important. I’m as important as the lawyers on the upper floors. Or the people who work on that floor where that very important person’s office is located – despite the fact that we all work for that main important guy. Then on the days I don’t carry a case, the same type of people don’t regard me at all, and don’t want to. Why does my laptop, or the carrying case, define me?
It’s some kind of trigger, you see. To see someone carry this type case, such as a laptop case, briefcase, or a document bag says to some people that you are well educated, employed, well paid, and that you are of a higher class than people that don’t carry these types of things. And if you have to carry these things while in a suit, you’re even higher class than the others who don’t wear suits.
I find a problem with this since I know many people that go to work everyday empty handed, wearing blue jeans, holey t-shirts and flip-flops, and they get paid double…even triple…what I do. And I know plenty of people who run off to work everyday with a case, such as a briefcase, and get paid less than I do and they have to buy their suits at places where clothes are so costly that I wouldn’t buy a pair of socks there. Oh, the vanity. We must keep up appearances.
I’m a writer. A self-published author. And I’m broke. My briefcase, or laptop case means nothing when it comes to my class status. Yes, I have a higher education. Yes, I have an okay paying public-service job. But I am really nobody outside of what I author. And my briefcase will never make me somebody.
I know that perhaps this is an odd thing for me to notice. And maybe an even stranger thing for me to blog about. But it’s bothered me for some time, so much that I felt I had to talk about it.
Briefcase, laptop case, document case: An old-time class divider seen through new eyes.
Thanks for reading.
Exploring the World of Writing
Fantasy Author
Finding Hope Through Hardship
“All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
whispering life from the future
WANDA PARYLA 
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