Being “Grown”

I was in the Dollar Store today and the cashier was an excited 21 year old. “I’m grown“, she boasted. “I pay my own bills and don’t need for nothing.” That sparked a thought:

Don’t be in such a hurry to talk about how “grown” you are because there’s a difference between “being grown” and being an adult. Grown people are those who have reached an age level that gives them permission to buy liquor, finally get into the clubs (legally), and buy cigarettes. Grown people usually boast about paying their own bills, driving their own cars, and not having to overall depend on anyone else financially. They just moved out the house yesterday and already they’re ready for the world. Adults however are those who do not have to keep reminding everyone how grown they are. They may or may not depend on someone else financially, may or may not pay their own bills. That’s because the level of their maturity is not based on such futility, but adults are people whose mentality is beyond the mind of a child. If you are well off financially that’s great, but it is not what defines adulthood. Not throwing stones, just something to think about the next time you have to tell someone how grown you are, which in the case you have to say it, you probably aren’t.

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Disconnect

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Common Sense has now been down-graded
on a scale of OMG, I’m LMBO,
I can’t hear the sound of laughing my butt off!
can’t tell if my voice is hard or soft
where
have all the people gone?
Real
players must have given it a new definition
because I can’t hear the sound of my own voice, can’t find the emotion because sounds
have been replaced
with dashboards and megabyte space
My space
has been invaded
can take words back as if I didn’t mean to say it
back spacing the profane
though it’s not my heart speaking
At least the internet will stop it from Wiki-leaking
You know I’ve never had any friends but maybe if I stick my social neck out far enough I can work it
Birds and butterflies have too been affected by twitter
caught somewhere between .com’s and world-wide nets
Negativity has now been filtered
And instagram has replaced the big dipper
I don’t know what stars look like, but at least I can add them as a friend and pretend I know what their life is
like
me
though you hate me
So you see, sometimes I just feel disconnected
Because reality has become TV
my fist is in a frenzy
but don’t worry, I’ll scan you images of my fingers so you can feel me
Because someone pulled the plug on reality
and my family can’t contact me
because I haven’t been added yet
blue screen
virus
Disconnect
Me from sensitivity
I’m sitting right next to you
but I don’t have a touch screen so maybe I’ll go somewhere else and Google Play
You see I’ve always been in love with words
and obsessed with books
but I’m going out of business
because it’s already on Facebook
books
have been replaced
with ROFL, NP…and something else but I don’t have enough space left on this computer cause he’s too busy trying to type
write her
I love you…
though I can’t look into your eyes and I have no idea the structure of your face but
semi-colon
smiley face

I can’t
see
I can’t
smell
I can’t
taste
I don’t know how to write because my senses are out of touch
screen
my heart and e-mail it to you
tube my eyes and see if you can change the text
message in this poetic message
paint
typing at the speed of 35MPH

guess I’m just too slow for this new place
though I’ve always been in love with words, maybe I’ll just forget about it all
But
there’s no need to panic
You can just take these final words
and cut, copy, and paste them to your wall.
So that you can re-post my pain
and respond with ikr….

(even though you don’t really know what I’m talking about)
but you can inbox me your heart
and I can attempt to read it right
so go ahead
give me a heads up with a million likes

but you’ll never feel me…

In Minds Reach

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For strength you must first know your weaknesses. And you must know them more than anyone else. Only then can you train your mind to think differently, and to improve on those weaknesses. To train is to continually practice something over a period of time. So this is not a one day affair to which you will be granted the fruits of this one night stand of sorts. You will not burst through with instant gratification of having remained still when the world is moving too fast. When the buildings and the trees and the people all crumble around you, persistence will not lay it’s hand on your chest, does not care for the thrashing hailstones crashing onto the ground. Do not court with strength. It is not something that falls off of trees. Do not leave it lingering on the edges of your breaths like when lips beg to be suckled, and swallowed whole by the thought of love; a drop of oil waiting modestly in the hallowed hallways of her breast. Do not fool yourself, for strength has never happened upon us the way that romanticized love does inside the pages of Hollywood. But to wake up and know that you are beauty made manifest; to know that you’ve got diamonds in-between your toes and underneath your fingernails; that you are princess and prince to a wealth of possibilities all in reach of your mind, this is a daily striving. A striving so beyond the flesh that you can taste it in your dreams and dance with it in your thoughts. It is tangible and intangible, symbolic, and literal, physical, and mental all wrapped up in one great trial of bewildered circumstance; waiting for the moment where it may envelop you with its glory. All neatly wrapped into a beautiful face too precious to ignore, and yet too glowing to stare into. Indeed, strength awaits you.

No Thank You

In case you’re wondering where the Christmas lights are, why I did not decorate my blog with carved Turkeys this weekend or why I have yet to regurgitate from the bowels of Neo Paganism some exciting holiday cheer, I just thought I’d warn you not to send me a holiday greeting or to send your cute little devil friends, I’m sorry elves, to come beating down my door with laughing hatred…no thank you to it all. I actually don’t celebrate holidays. There I said it. You may now refer to me as your crazy blogger friend who hates Jesus, I’m used to it.

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