I Was Brainwashed Once.

I have a rant. You can say what you want, but please, for the love of all things, stop judging.

This rant has been building in me for years. I hope you’re ready.

I have a dog. He has a big head, large muscles, and he is very sensitive. He knows when you don’t like him. He knows when people are sad, mad, happy, and all our other mix of emotions. He will gladly lick your face, clean the inside of your ears, and sniff your feet. He cuddles. He leans on you and uses your body as a recliner. He wants to be with you at all times. When he can’t, he patiently waits for your arrival.

He scared me at first. I was unsure. I was worried that he would turn vicious. I was brainwashed.

Before my dog, I was a volunteer at a humane society. I was one of their dog trainers. They saw a large number of dogs. Some dogs could be saved, some could not. I’ve seen all types of dogs. When I walked into his cage, I was nervous. He came from a bad past.

He sat in the corner and watched as I entered his space. I didn’t make eye contact. I came in, locked the cage, and took a seat on the cold floor. I sat against the cage wall. I sat away from him. I was nervous.

He walked over slowly. He was sniffing. I kept my eyes directly ahead. When he was close, he stopped, then he sat. I always kept a stash of delicious treats in my hand and a training device in the other. When his butt hit the floor, I clicked my device and put a treat next to his paw. I stayed looking ahead. He stayed focused on me. This routine kept until the treats were gone.

I was still nervous. What if all the news reals were true? What if he snapped and went for my throat? What if his jaw locked and I couldn’t break free? The “what ifs” flooded my brain.

His tail wagged so hard it thumped on the concrete. He was staring at me, waiting for my next move.

During his life, humans beat him, shocked him, left him out in the Florida heat, and tied heavy chains around his neck. If there are any “what ifs”, it should be coming from the dog.

He should be wondering if I am going to beat him, shock him, or make him fight for his life. He’s the one who should be nervous.

Instead, he wags his tail. He takes the treats. He waits for me. He watches my behavior. He trusts me. He is still hopeful. He has so much love that he can’t help but be happy even though I might be the next human that does him harm.

I hold out my hand. He leans forward, sniffs, and licks my skin. His tongue can’t help it so he licks my arm. His tail wags harder and he licks my face. I give him a gentle pat and before you know it, we are playing, cuddling, and loving with all our hearts.

It was in that moment my closed, brainwashed heart became bigger. I fell in love with a breed that is hated for how they look. They are hated for their sheer power. They are hated and they are feared. When a human is scared, it is the most scariest place to be.

I love my dog. When I first saw his face, I knew he would be great. However, the media is a powerful thing. My nerves took over, once again. I knew my new love would become big. I knew he would become my greatest protector. I knew his strength would make others and even me stand on edge.

He tested me.

He is two now. He loves, he plays, and he shows people he isn’t what the media says. He isn’t what the scared human creates. He is just a dog.

I saw him change a mind today. He changes minds all the time, but something struck me with this lady.

I come out of my car. She is standing on my steps that lead to my home. She is nervous. I see me standing there, opening a cage, and not knowing if I would leave.

He approached. She asked if he was vicious because “he looks vicious”. I calmly said no. He’s a lover. He licked her hand gently, as if he knew he should. “Here, let me lick your hand so you can know I’m not mean, I just look that way”.

She smiled and giggled.

A wet nose and a soft tongue can make the worst cynic smile. She followed me into my home and while we talked, my dog sat and waited. She commented on how good he was and I said, they all are. We just have to give them a chance.

My rant is fueled by my own previous bias. My rant is fueled by a public who knows only what they read and what they hear. My rant is fueled by all the abused dogs who only want to love. They only want to be friends. They only want to teach us to love the same; without bias.

A large head, large muscles, and a strong will mean only one thing to me now – a dog with a heart large enough to change a brainwashed mind.

I own a pit bull. He owns my heart.

This is Einstien.

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It’s Time

I paused yesterday during my internal struggle for peace and realized I have been neglectful. 

I have been neglecting myself. I preach what should be done and when it comes to it, I fall short. 

It’s what happens, I suppose. We are supposed to learn, fail, and grow. 

I wonder when I’ll succeed. When I’ll stop falling short. But these questions I’m never suppose to know. That’s the complexity of life. We live, try our best, and share our wisdom. 

It’s a turbulent journey. 

When life becomes too much to bear, I have to pause and think about being grateful. It doesn’t come easy. I’ve come to realize, it never will. 

In the tradition of using Friday to think about what I’m grateful for, I’ll give you a list. 

It’s small, but it’s truth is real. 

  • In times where I feel alone, a friend shines through and reminds me they’ve always been there. For this, I am grateful for my friends. I have a handful that really know me, and I love them all. 
  • I am grateful for my parents. They do all they can for me, and I never say thank you enough. 
  • I am grateful I have a job. I often loathe it, but it’s still there as long as they find me worthy. 
  • My niece. She’s amazing, smart, funny, and when you’re sad she knows exactly what to do. She’s a true gift. 

Take some time to pause and be grateful. It can be difficult, but it gives new perspective and sometimes that’s all we need to silence the mind. 

He’s pausing, but it’s possible he’s thinking about cookies. 

It’s Not That Bad

It’s Friday, and all I can think about is how horrible the week was. However, I have to pause. I have to think about anything good, anything. So here it goes.

  1. I managed to find myself safe.
  2. I managed to not sleep in my car.
  3. I received money so I could find my way back home.
  4. People only give what they can, and that’s okay.
  5. I found the will to write 4 times.
  6. I was able to watch TV which included a horror movie.
  7. I have WiFi.
  8. My car is nice.
  9. I have good health.
  10. I have food.

There, 10 things. Not too shabby. I need to do this more often, or more than often, I will find myself in a negative thought process and the only place that will lead me is a cold shower, and orange jump suit, and a girlfriend or four. Because as we know, I’m too pretty for prison.

 

Happy Friday, and as someone I know would tell me, Be Blessed. For me, be grateful.

Deep Scratches

Just a little poem to free the soul.

 

It is chaos; this world I inhabit. 

Holes, walls, and thorns leaving scratches.

I fall. I climb. I bleed. 

I never find what I feel I need. 

I’m trapped in a storm. I can’t breathe. 

Save me from the fear creating me. 

I will never find light. 

I feel I am losing this fight. 

Scratches are deep. The wounds wont heal. 

Thorns are encasing; forming a seal.

I weep. I scream. Silence cleanses me. 

I Keep Clawing

Here is a little something for your Friday. I want you to try and figure out where this person is. Do not try to think of a place that is sci-fi. Think of a place you carry with you at all times. 

Enjoy. 



I keep clawing. The sticky substance clogs the underside of my fingernails. It’s dark and there’s a strange smell I cannot identify. I close my eyes to keep out the stink and the strange substance. My feet hit something strange and it feels as though I cannot move. I struggle to kick myself free. I hit something hard and the entire place jerks. The substance wiggles and the smell intensifies. I reach out my hands in hopes of feeling for anything to grasp. I keep clawing. The room or this place, I am still not sure, is getting darker. I seem to be sinking. I fear I will never break free. I keep clawing. The smell is now more potent than before. The taste suctions itself to my tongue; my body. I hit a wall. It rattles me. I can feel the place shake. I then feel the place move. I feel myself being thrown. I reach for the wall and it is no longer within my reach. I sink further into this place. The substance wraps itself around me and the stink sets in. I keep clawing. 

My Troubled Muse

I often write things that are dark, scary, and completely morbid. It is a direct reflection into my mind. The mirror stands tall. It holds cracks and is often distorted. If you know me, you can see past the imperfections and know, even though my soul is damaged, I am content. I am thoughtful. I have empathy. I long for sanctuary. I can not often find the peace I long for. My mind races with thoughts that I beg to disappear. My thoughts, the ones that put me in a dark place, the ones that pull my inner psyche into a darkness from which I have to claw my way out, are my own. I hate them, I loathe them, I yearn to be with them. However, I won’t apologize for them. They are not for everyone. I live in torment with my mind, and it is often the most beautiful place and the most painful all at once. I wouldn’t change it for anyone or anything. It brings to me a beautiful muse. Unfortunately, I often have to poke the mind in order to bring my muse to life.

Read what you can. Find the meaning of the words as they flow from my troubled thoughts onto this blog. If you’re as troubled as me, and I know I am not alone, you will appreciate every minute your eyes scan the page. If you can not relate, you will have trouble digesting what I am feeding. .

Breath. Enjoy. Live. Inspire. Embrace. Forgive

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Remember, it’s all about perspective.

I’m Shocked Too

It’s Friday. I do not have much to say. I had a very bad day, emotionally, yesterday, and the thought of writing anything worth while, puts a drain on me. So instead, I will wish you a fabulous weekend and a picture of my dog to keep you entertained while you pound away at your dest looking at the clock every five minutes only to find it’s been a minute. Don’t worry, it will be over soon. 


This is what you look like when you find the clock hasn’t moved. 

A Poem A Day? 

My inbox is flooded with junk everyday. Occasionally, I get some valid pieces. April is National Poetry Month among all the other things it stands for. This particular email challenged me to write a poem a day. Well, I have high standards and I let myself know that would never happen. However, I’ll try for once a week. 4 poems. If you’re keeping track and follow religiously, you know I’ve already written a poem. But you caught me. That poem was written on Monday so it doesn’t count. Damn it. 

So here is a poem, tried and true. 

I wrote it down just for you. 

It rhymes and has rhythm 

Like all poems should. 

Except this poem doesn’t 

If you notice

I’m not through. 

It lacks imagination

It lacks that special beat. 

But I’m not here to please you

Have a good week. 

Happy F@&$ing Friday, people. 

You Don’t Know Me

Happy Freakin Wednesday!

It’s that time of the week when you’re not sure if you’re going to make it to Friday OR you’re so amped that you may burst before Friday. Either way, there’s still half a work week left so don’t get crazy.

I, however, only work three days a week. Two more days of 13 hour shifts and I celebrate with a nap.
Naps are good. They give me inspiration to take more naps.

(And you were certain you wouldn’t see that word in this post. You were wrong. I’m an unpredictable animal)

Have a great day. Here’s a picture of my dog, in case you get bored.

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He certainly is bored.

Take A Deep Breath, The Craziness Is Arriving

Friday! For most, the weekend is a few smoke breaks away. I volunteered to work tomorrow so….
I don’t have much to say. It’s really early and I’m just trying to get back into my groove of blogging again. So enjoy this photo of my gorgeous dog, and have a happy f@$&ing Friday.

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This is when Einstein was just a baby. He’s 8 months old as of yet. If this photo doesn’t bring a smile to your face, you may need meds.