Selma vs Ferguson

Recently I saw a trailer for Selma and began to wonder what's the difference between then and now.  Here's my take on it.
People loved Dr King because, although he was not perfect, he did not call for violence even when it was thrust upon him. He frowned upon the violence and looting and condemned those that did it.
He didn't call for dead cops or make any threats. He held actual peaceful protest where people were singing and praying as they walked.
He was actually a preacher and not just in title only, unlike the two Reverends that claim to follow his example.
That's the difference between now and what happened in Selma. We need to go back to those methods.  Peaceful protest does not mean setting fires, beating people, or causing shut downs of businesses, which is a disturbance of the peace.
Dr. King was feared, not because of the damage he could cause but because of the love he projected.  He was willing to die for his beliefs but he was not going to physically provoke it either.
A lot of change can come if we actually followed his teaching of love rather than hate, brotherhood rather than divided by racism. Again, Dr. King was by no means perfect but he did set the bar. It's not set high but it's still achieveable.  We owe it to him to try.

#icantbreathe #drking #handsupdontshoot #protest

Do I Need A License?

Do I need a license to:

1.      Go to church?
2.      Worship any God I choose?
3.      Speak my mind freely?
4.      Write my opinion for all to see?
5.      Gather with likeminded individuals peacefully?
6.      Question those in power about the policies they make?
7.      Be exempt from having a soldier live in my home by force?
8.      Be exempt from searches or having my property seized without criminal cause?
9.      Be able to refuse to answer questions?
10.  Only be tried once for a crime?
11.  Not be denied life, liberty, or property without due process?
12.  Have a speedy and public trial?
13.  Have an impartial jury?
14.  Know what I’m being tired for and to face my accuser?
15.  Have counsel and witnesses in my defense?
16.  Have a common law jury if I so choose?
17.  Be exempt from excessive bail or fines?
18.  Not have cruel and unusual punishments inflicted upon myself?

The answer to all these questions is NO, I do not need a license for any of it.  Why?  Because these rights are given to every American, criminal or not, they are protected and can not be taken away under any circumstances.  So why is the 2nd Amendment the only one that is?

#gunsense #HB195 #OpenCarry2015 #ConstitutionalCarry #ConstitutionalCarryAcrossAmerica

Google Play

I finally have my books on Google Play.  That is all of them. I have my books on every major book selling sight.  I was told I couldn't do it on my own and self publishing would get me no where but look at me now. I'm excited to say that I worked hard and did it my way.  Thank you to all who believed in me and my work. I could not have done it without you.

From My Daughter

Taken from the revised Lost Inside
When my daughter was born I hoped and prayed that my demons would not passed onto her.  I did not want the childhood I lived through for her.  When she was two years old I could see that my prayers were answered with an ear shattering NO.
I knew she would be in for a tough adolescence and the only thing I could actually do for her is let her know I would be there if she needed to talk.  I knew hard conversations were ahead of me, full of tears and heartache. 
Being that she has inherited my gift for expressing emotions into words I tell her to just write out what she feels and the darkness will not be able to consume her as long as she keeps letting it out.  At age eleven she started writing and now, at fourteen, she is a much better writer than I am.
The following is her work, in her own words, expressing how she feels and dealing with the emotions that plague her.  Her demons may try, but they will not defeat her.


To Those Who Hear But Don’t Listen

As kids we’re lead to believe,
You need a reason to be sad.
And we’re taught by society,
That it’s okay to make fun of,
Those who are.

I once asked,
“How do I explain depression,
To people who’ve NEVER experienced it?”
Just because you’re sad doesn’t mean you’re depressed.

Depression is the feeling of drowning,
While everyone around you,
Can clearly breathe.

Like walking down the street
And it suddenly decides to swallow you whole.

That nightmare of that dark creature
You never knew but were scared of.
THAT’S depression.
The coolness of a blade as it slices your skin,
Is what some people rely on
To take away the pain.
It causes physical pain,
But mentally,
It’s as if everything bad
Trickles away with every single
Drop of crimson.
Everything wrong and cruel
Fades away in that moment in time.
People don’t realize that it’s not
Cowardness that pushes
People toward suicide.
They are brave.

Knowing you’re leaving and never coming back.
Knowing you’re hurting those that care.
Knowing you’re doing this and won’t know what happens next.
Walking into this blindly and being able to push the fear away.

They aren’t cowards looking for a way out,
They are brave enough to move on.

As I was once wisely told,
“No one wants to die,
But everyone wants to go to heaven.”

Whoop 'Em

Growing up I use to get my butt whooped.  I can laugh about it now but I’ve been beat with whatever was within arm reach, shoe, flip flop, belt, hair brush, and I’ve even broken a couple of wooden spoons or four.  For the psychological torture I would have to go get my won switch and then skin it before handing it over.  When I got in trouble the amount of whippings I received depended on where I was at the time I got in trouble.

While all my loving aunts say they did not whip me because I was the “Angel” of the group my bottom begs to differ and thankfully my cousins can vouch for the beatings my butt took.  I have to admit I deserved a third of the beatings I got but didn’t get half the beatings I should have, so by my mother’s logic, and grandmother’s for that matter, it all balanced out.
Now, as an adult, with a child of my own, I can freely talk about those whoopins and laugh about it.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been told that you are never too old to get whooped, but honestly, we wore them out to where the fire that fueled our beatings is now smoldering ashes.  That’s okay because now it’s my turn to be the discipliner.
My parents, were the great discipliners for sure.  Everyone agrees that my siblings and I were the well behaved ones and the “good” ones or “special” ones, and those words come with a hint of resentment when spoken most times, and when I see that look of disgust and calling us the “good” ones I laugh.  We were the “good” ones because of what would happen to us if we misbehaved.
Why do I say all of this?  Well, as appose to when I was growing up I have noticed that most parents refuse to discipline their children, one mother going as far as to tell me she does NOT tell her child No and how dare I grab her son.  Well, your son that you never tell No to was about to fall of the second floor balcony and by me grabbing his arm I pulled him back from the edge just as he was going over.  I told him No, because I’m not afraid to, and he said okay and ran back to his friends like nothing had happened.
I see it on a daily bases, parents who look like they don’t care and are afraid of their children.  I also see the ones who have given up and don’t care anymore.  I shake my head because the solution is so simple, whip their butts when it’s needed.  Trust me, they will learn and listen.  And for those who say you’re hurting the kid mentally every time you hit them, guess what, NO YOU ARE NOT!!!
I was whooped and I turned out fine.  I have a cousin who was not whipped and she turned out fine too, but her argument is invalid because notice I said, as needed.  She did not need spankings because she truly was a good child.  My own child, has only been whipped twice in her life and those were, again, as needed.
Now it’s, “Cough cough, I don’t want to go to school,” or “I just don’t feel like going to school,” or “I don’t want that.”  I cringe when I hear that because of what I have been conditioned to hear what comes next and then, it never comes.  The response I would have gotten was, “Are you dying? Get your butt to school,” “I don’t care if you don’t feel like it, get your butt to school,” and “You can either do it with or without tears, but you’re going to do it.”
Parents need to remember that your child is your CHILD, not your best friend.  You can not discipline your best friend.  When that parent/child relationship is no longer defined as it should be then all other relationships break down.  The lack of respect in the family unit has gone out the window.
I hear child call their parents, their aunts or uncles, and sometimes even their grandparents, by their first name without a title before it.  I had this problem when my daughter stated talking and she would call someone by their name and I would correct her, “I can call him by his but you call him Uncle.”  Then Uncle would say, “It’s okay, she doesn’t have to.”  To which my response was always, “Yes, she does.” Leaving no room for arguing this point.  That’s how I was raised and it was with respect.
If I ever called one of my aunts or uncles by their first name only a slap would soon follow, either across the face or up the back of my head, it came, then I had to say their name properly, according to what it was to me.  My nieces and nephew, grown adults and with children of their own, still call me with Uncle before saying my name.  Their children do the same, even if they do not want to, they know what will happen if they don’t.  I won’t hit them per say but I will ignore them until they call me by my proper name according to them.
Why do I say all of this?  Because this is a major part of why this country is going to hell in a hand basket.  I will give you a chance to discipline your own child and if after a while you do not I will tell you something.  If you can’t play well with others in society then leave but I’m not about to let it go without something being said and if you choose to set me straight rather than your own kid then you need to be taught a lesson and I will gladly be the instructor.  I care about your child’s wellbeing, even if you do not.  They need to be taught, it is not automatic and if nothing is ever said then nothing can ever be taught.  By not saying anything you are contributing to the downfall of our youth.
This rant has been brought to you by a well-adjusted member of society who got his ass whooped.

Saying Goodbye

It's 4am and I'm awake. Not because my body is ahead by two hours but because my soul is trained to wake up at 4am when I'm under the same roof as my grandmother. For an entire school year I had to wake up at four am so I could shower and get ready for school. There was six of us, one shower, and all had to be ready to go by 7 o'clock so I will let you do the math.
Each morning as I walked out of my bedroom, with sleep still in my eyes, I would say, "Good morning grandma," and go take my shower. When I got out she would be waiting for me at the kitchen table, coffee in one hand and the Stockton Record in the other. Breakfast would be sitting on a plate across from her and I would sit there eating my breakfast in silence as she read her paper.
Sometimes she would read me a story and ask me what I thought or she would start with, "You know..." and go off to ranting her wisdom. She is a passionate person, my grandmother, and that passion lives on in us, her grandchildren, as I witnessed with my cousins yesterday, one of them triggering my grandmother's passion as she lovingly scolded her.
Now it's 4:45 in the morning and the only ones awake are me and the cat. I keep waiting for her door to open, her walk into the kitchen and start the coffee pot and start making breakfast but her time is nearing and she isn't able to do all that she once was. Which is why I'm here, why all of us are here, to say our goodbyes, to see her and kiss her and hug her, but not too tightly for fear of breaking her and then who ever did it would really get a whoopin from the aunts who swear they never hit us like we remember them hitting us.
While to some that may sound morbid, saying your goodbyes to someone who is still alive, oddly enough, in this goofball family, it's perfectly normal and a lesson I've learned from her. Reality is she will pass, it's a part of life, so let's not kid ourselves. When she goes then everyone's last memory of seeing her will be a sad one. By coming now, we get to see her and make new happy memories and more important she gets to see all of us and keep those memories fresh in her mind.
Sitting here alone in the dark, it's now past 5am and as I type the tears flow of the memories I made yesterday, the ones I will make today, and for the ones I won't be able to have in the future but those are mine and mine alone. At least I can say yesterday was a good day, full of laughter, smiles, good food, minus the tamales I was promised, but it's okay because we all ate home made tortillas like we did as kids, hot, fresh, and will lots and lots of butter. THAT is a memory I would not trade for the world.


 I have a stalker. He follows me everywhere I go, lurking in the shadows, waiting to attack me when I'm most unaware and defenseless. His mark last long after he's gone and the sting is deep. I wish he would just die. Mosquito is his name.