3.9.10

Never have I felt more poor, broke, destitute, and impoverished than when I’m in Omaha. Never have I felt more incomplete, more worthless, and more inadequate, than when I’m within these city limits. Lack of imagination, creativity, and hope; replaced with excessive madness, excessive feeling of being manic, sorrow, and frustration.

A few days ago a thought crossed my mind—what if there is a heaven, and there is an actual God, and I actually make it there at least to be judged—and God doesn’t speak my language!? What then, granted, it would explain a lot, but really, what then?

What are these perpendicular lines that keep crossing each other creating train-wrecks at 360 degree angles? What is the deprivement of a self induced train-wreck with the support of such decadence that encompasses this city?

It is not solution based; there is complaining, and loudness, foul words, and pointing fingers, yet very few suggestions of solutions.

This city breeds cowardice, and glorifies the violence it produces; at the same time demonizes the perpetrators. Amazing is the rate of birth, consistent with the rate of disrespect, domestic violence, divorce, and the creation of single parent households.

You can not force tem to care. Punishment is as much a part of poverty as lack of money and resources. As justice and vengeance lie equally on the scales, lady liberty remains blinded with arms extended. There is no education in rehabilitation; if one is caged enough, they begin to exhibit the qualities of animals.

And so I fought, method 1—verbal at the community level. Outcome: misunderstanding and borderline disrespect. Method 2—educational at the city/county institutional level. Outcome: overachieved level of child’s communication and understanding, however lack of funds brings attention to other options.

Hence, one more blog of bitterness, hypocrisy, for lack of solutions—yet still there are feelings of inadequacy, trapped in quicksand. A pirate eye to the pinnacle, most time I just can’t see it. So tired of being sick, I got sick of being tired. Attempting to find enlightenment without the assistance of red and blue lights; I wait impatiently for time to end.



3.10.10

There is never enough time in the day when hourly rates weigh your worth. Financial goals are rarely reached through the “Economic Section” of the daily newspaper. Have become too wordy for readers, and too deep for listeners, so now a race to the finish; looking to double and triple steps, tripping over shoelaces—not enough time to tie sturdy knots.

Diary of a madman who looks past comments of an outside social world for validation. It may be a fool’s brilliance if there are only a few who get it. And this is fine, wonderful—as being passed over becomes passages for the book of life. Chapters become time-frames that feel like frozen earth as one lives through it.

To juggle this jungle and all living things that make it….So hard to just do your job when a system of values tells one to help when needed or necessary. So sanity becomes an obstacle, almost electing to go around it, rather than through it, or over it.

So strange a phenomena when the “hopeless” are the unknowing givers of hope. So strange, perceiving a future in its present state—struggling and succeeding.

There is no formula for life, but time equals distance divided by speed. Running out of time, not going fast enough, not getting far enough—success becomes suppressing as feelings of stagnation come upon…..