Legendary Legends

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Image: Pixabay

So, yes! I am officially an author. My first publication will go live on Amazon, January 1, 2018. This is just the tip of the iceberg, baby.

I am a legend in my own mind. Yes. And so should you be as well. It’s fine to look up to other people and commend them for their honor and bravery. But don’t sell yourself so goddamn short. You deserve a pat on the back, too, ya know.

When I hear the word legend, I think of people like Alexander the Great, George Washington, Terry Bradshaw and a rabbit named Bugs Bunny.

When I hear the word legendary, I think of timeless stories like The Ice Bowl of 1967, The Battle of the Bulge, the Blizzard of ’78 and The Fall in Frankford Crick.

Legends… they make shit happen. And while most legends are famous for doing deeds beyond the scope of good deed doing, others are legends in a small place like a family or a church. I am sure you know some legends – and legendary tales – in your hometown. Whether it is a happy story or a sad story it is a legendary tale that has trickled down the line of time to the current day. You’ll hear one person tell the story and then someone else says “Legendary.”

A quick legendary tale from my childhood:

It was the winter of ’81 and a bunch of us were playing in the woods on Ryerson Road. The one half of the street was all houses, but across the way down the hill was a part of the Frankford Creek (Crick) and Pennypack woods. We were all playing in the snow. This one kid, David was in full snowsuit gear – we thought this was ridiculous – and we talked him into walking on the frozen crick just to get across to the other side. We watched as he stepped on the ice like a soldier through a minefield. His footing so gingerly and deliberate we were sure he’d make it across, except he was going so slow. Back then it seemed like he was trying to walk halfway across the Delaware River. In reality, the crick was maybe ten feet wide.

Do I really have to tell you the rest of the story? He crept onto the ice, it cracked, we yelled for him to get off. But it was too late. David and his puffy snowsuit fell right through the ice into the frigid water. He screamed and cried, we laughed and then gasped in shock. He laid there (his head and upper body above the water) and we ran to get someone to help him.

We told that story between us for years; each year the story got a little more hyped up. And at some point, it became… a legend.

Do your best. Be your best. Live your best life and yes… be a legend in your own mind. Because sometimes that’s all it takes to become a legend in someone else’s.

But never ever walk on dark ice.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/legend/

Not Here

 

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Image: Pixabay

I don’t think anyone in my family – immediate or extended – has ever gotten an inheritance. We’ve been poor all our lives and despite this, have always remained in good spirits.

 

I have often wished I had a rich ancestor somewhere that left me millions. I sure as hell wouldn’t be buying a mansion and jewels.

This is what I’d do with my inheritance:

  • pay off my debt
  • invest
  • give to animal charities and abused people charities
  • buy a large plot of land
  • build a modest log cabin
  • start an animal rescue
  • help people
  • buy books from struggling authors

That’s just a start.

What would you do if you got an inheritance?

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/inheritance/

Theory of Doubt

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Image: Pixabay

There is a threshold

That no longer cries

Amidst the darkness

Of despondent sighs

Forever is okay

If you’ve got nowhere to go

Angels were once sinners

On a dark and lonely road

Buckle up your sunshine

And pack it in your heart

Doubt your self a rainbow

Just be sure to start

As long as you’re going

Be sure to push on through

That makeshift smile you wear

Sure looks good on you…

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/theory/

Saintly Sinner

 

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Image: pixabay – geralt

Saintly.

We use that term when we speak of good deed doers, animal rescuers and people who keep their cool in Wal-Mart. But what about the saintly sinner? You know, humans that want to beat the ever living shit out of that asshole in Wal-Mart or impale the driver doing 35 in a 55 (this happened to me on my way to work today). Then maybe played the scenario out in vivid detail, and thought, “Is this jerk really worth ten years in prison with a seven-foot cellmate named Tiny?”

Saintly sinners are people just like you and me. They are not good deed doers per say, but they aren’t rotten bastards either. Saintly sinners are average people who go about their day not necessarily keeping tabs of all the good and bad shit they have done, but know that being a decent human – or at least trying like hell – can be a full-time job all its own in this day and age.

Saintly sinners are anti-heroes.

You know, those ten-dimensional characters like John McClaine in Die Hard or Snake Plissken in Escape From New York. Sure they’re mouthy, dirty bad boys who ventured onto the left-hand path, but we love them despite their sinner ways; they’re our angels of redemption.

On the flip side of that, some people pretend to be saintly but are really demon spawn at a sickening level. The technical term for that person is the sociopathic narcissist, and though I have dealt with one version or the other in my life, the evilest combination of the two was my ex-mother-in-law. She would gorge herself on the pain of others. Some people call them emotional vampires, others call them toxic, but I just wound up calling her a crazy b***h. The woman wasn’t happy unless she was witnessing/talking about/causing someone’s pain.

I won’t go into it because she isn’t worth the weight of her memory, but she is included in my memoir. Sometimes we need to speak the devil’s name so we can put her in her proper place.

Saintly is the way

The sinners love to sleep

They gorge on your demons

With gentle little dreams

Their thoughts heavily fasten

To all that’s good and true

Then rip it from your soul

Like gorging sinners do

So wrap your dreams up tight

In a silky woven ball

Wash them in starlight

And let them gently fall

via Daily Prompt: Saintly

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/gorge/

*I had the wrong prompt. This post may be a lame attempt at recovery, but I had to give it a shot!

Relocate or Rearrange

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Image: searchhomesinnashville.com

 

There is a fresh feeling in starting over. Shucking the dead weight of the past can invigorate and inspire.

Despite moving many times into new places, or new neighborhoods and towns, it took me a while to understand that relocating didn’t change anything for me. Sometimes, it made things worse.

I finally realized that no matter where I went, there I was. Sure, things were good for a while. However, no matter how many times I paint over the bloodstain on the wall – it may be covered – it is still there. Just like my past. I didn’t learn until doing step work that holding onto all that shit was killing me and causing me to self-sabotage.

Dealing with those ugly parts properly so I didn’t have to keep moving when things got icky and uncomfortable was the key. Since I have unlocked that door, I have dealt with almost all of it that could be dealt with accordingly. Some things cannot be closed or handled. Maybe people die and so we’re left with the wreckage of our past. Sometimes, trying to amend a situation would make things worse for that person. So there are other ways to handle it. Maybe mail a letter to a bogus address with no return address. Maybe write it out and burn it, rip it up and throw it in the stream after you’ve read your letter aloud to the universe.

However it can be done, sometimes it is a necessary evil that when complete, feels like twelve pounds of dead weight had been lifted off your mind.

The last two times I have moved was not to run away from the past but to continue to build my life and my future with my husband and cat. My kids are grown now and have started lives for themselves.

It’s always okay to visit the past, just be sure not to move back there.

Blessed be.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/relocate/

relocate

The Zoo

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Image: Pixabay – Lucas FZ70

Once upon a time

When I was quite little

My mother took me to the zoo

Among bark, cold and brittle

We had to bundle up

For the air was quite chilly

We were off on an adventure

None of this seemed silly

The parking lot was packed with cars

As people filed through the turnstile

When I made it to the other side

My face and eyes did smile

There were critters everywhere

Some furry and big; some scaly and small

I stopped and stood for a time

When I approached the best one of all

I noticed it lying in the brush

Its fur was spotted in many spots

I heard it meow instead of roar

It was a beautiful ocelot.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/zoo/

Zoo