It still doesn’t feel like a year

But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel you influence still with me …

Your laughter I still catch lingering on the breeze that wisps through my hair

Your voice I still catch drifting in as whispers in my dreams

Your words, still lifting me up through the hard days and times when I need it the most

I know I miss you but I can only take all the positive and know the universe will right itself because your energy is still there.

See you in my dreams …

The day I learned my eyesight was bad

When I was in 3rd grade, I always had to move to the front of the classroom to see what was on the projector screen. Thinking about the projector makes me laugh to think how ancient that is now.

My teacher, Mrs. Proctor suggested to my parents that I needed to get my eyes checked. Whoopy! Was I worried about being called four-eyes? Not really. It was whatever to me. I seriously didn’t understand the concept of bullying when I was a child. It was always, “Treat others like you would be treated” Apparently, it’s hard for children across the nation to swallow that pill. I was probably just really good at ignoring people but then again I was friends with everyone – except sometimes there would always be that group of girls that felt the need to talk shit for no reason whatsoever except that they learned how to do it from the older kids. It was the 90’s! We were entering an era of bitchassness.

I’ll always remember that day … we were doing algebraic math problems, my crush was sitting somewhere close by

Sometimes I believe that people with perfect eyesight can see and observe the truth better than people with poor eyesight because the world to a person like me is obscured, shadowed, and blurry. We strive for clarity through contact lenses or eyeglasses or even recreating our retinas through surgery. If I could get a statistic on people’s visions and the rate this generations deteriorating … what would we find. It probably has no correlation.

Then I start to think, it isn’t about eyesight … it is about vision. The ability to see beyond our abilities.

Survival was one thing on my mind the day I learned my eyesight was becoming poorer and poorer … I would never let it hamper my ability to move through a day with out purpose, to keep moving as though it were nothing.

Anyway, my eyesight is still poor and if there were ever a zombie apocalypse I’d be one of the first to perish because my glasses would probably break and there’d be no way I could stock up on contact lenses that would last me a lifetime.

Goodbye oh reasonable world

If you still think it’s not about race and you believe yourself an educated person then you should realize ignorance when you see it. If you take a side subjectively without being informed and doing your own research, you are blinded by what you think you believe to be true and set. The things I get upset over are not trivial or inconsiderate but it is reserved for when people decide not to have an opinion and just spout stupid words and opinions that are not formulated from their own mind or fact checking. Make sense with your words and not compilations of other peoples opinions and thoughts. Have a voice, be insightful. Social media is not true social media when reasonable discussion and debate are flamed more often than thoughtful and insightful and valuable to the social issues at hand. We all know deep down inside the internet is a whirlpool that swirls bad and good together so much that it blinds us more than ever.

if one believes that FB is not a place for discussion of current events then what is social media good for but to hide behind a screen and step in when it actually affects us personally. This goes for forums, chat rooms, and any place you can place your comment and therefore opinion. The people who exercise their right to freedom of speech to speak hatefully and untruthfully and distastefully and disgustingly have hate for themselves. If you don’t think it is, go to different news outlets sites and read the commments section … it’s amazing how MANY people hide behind a screen to say the most disturbing things.

Everything that’s going on in the world, affects us personally. We live in the bubbles that we blow ourselves. pop the bastion of safe opinion, share your voice in an articulate fashion.

These days i’m looking up to people who place focus on the real issues at hand and don’t step back from these people.

It all started with a dab of mustard …

There is a cafe by my work. A simple, modest little cafe … the only one that caters to a building mostly occupied by state workers and a mix of professionals from the education and IT industry.

I am not a food expert by any means but I have different levels of quality I’ve honed in over the years. Were I to compare this simple spot to a Starbucks, would be completely unfair but of course to discuss the limitations of what these neighborhood cafes can do is another topic.

The cafes in business parks are extremely limited. They do not have kitchen hoods – meaning their kitchens are basically a back room with a wash area, toaster, and microwave. They do not do any cooking whatsoever – which is fine. Their business consists of sandwiches, soups, breakfast, and coffee.

I appreciate the customer service i get at this cafe – they know my name, they listen to suggestions … but the only the thing I can’t get over is … everything has a potential to be better.

Let’s start with last Monday. I had the most fantastic breakfast croissant. Amazing and mouthwatering … expectations sky-rocketed … I’m sure everyone’s heard of Porto’s in Los Angeles, I am a bread fiend and we had some time to stop by there to get there infamous potato balls before making the journey back to Sacramento. But something compelled me to order their breakfast croissant. Their price $4.15 (They have an amazing array of breads and goods, i died and went to heaven walking in there)

Anyway, my whole breakfast life changed the moment I opened up the box holding my Porto’s sandwich … First I noticed everything was nestled inside a sweet croissant, but it all started with a dab of mustard that changed the game …

It blew my mind.

In a flash, all I could think of were the weeks and days I spent my hard earned money on mediocre breakfast sandwiches … $4.08 for this “breakfast croissant” .. the only hearty meal that I would allow myself to buy in the mornings … How could I settle for this all along when somewhere out there was a better, higher quality breakfast sandwich???

My disappointment soon turned into feelings of anguish because there is nothing comparable to a Porto’s in Sacramento. Nothing! I would need to scour all the so-called bakeries in the area to find sweet croissants and then a lovely dijon mustard … to feed this growing obsession. To maybe even encourage this small cafe to consider purchasing local and higher quality breads for their sandwiches and maybe individuals like me unbeknownst to the wonders of the higher end of breakfast could appreciate will have access to …

But alas, there is literally a Costco 2 minutes from here and provides everything this little cafe needs to survive. Once I move to Sacramento with Vic, the journey for a wonderful tasting croissant breakfast sandwich will be on my list of endeavors … To share this delight with the cafe I work by and let them know that there are people who settle for less but once they are given the option of more … the possibilities are endless …

And that is that … memories of my porto’s breakfast croissant with a ham and cheese omelette and a dab of mustard. This morning I gave in and ordered one and with a “dab of mustard” … imagine my disappointment when I received a “slather” of mustard ….

Let go, but I’ll see you soon

Sometimes, I wonder if you are near. But I am not one of those sensitive people of the worlds between worlds.

Just yesterday, He told me that you were around because he felt calmed.  Kahlua saw you. She wagged her tail and looked at a spot right by the warehouse door, barking as though she knew someone was there – where I clearly remember you standing there in your low boots and welcome smile. telling us how awesome it was to be away from the city for the weekend. He said it happened twice and both times everything just felt …  nice.

I normally brush those things off because I never get the first-hand experience, but I’ve had plenty of stories told to me of loved ones who came to visit – in some shape or form.

Like when my great grandmother passed away, she came to my mom in the form of a group of white butterflies. She knew it had to be her because it was in the middle of the night while she was reading and the dogs next door suddenly began barking. This was back in the 90’s when garages were on springs and lifted up at an angle. The garage was slightly opened and they just drifted in and fluttered around her. Just as soon as they came, they fluttered right back out. The next day my grandmother called my mom to let her know that inay passed away.

Or like when Grandma Little passed away, and we came to see them a week after it happened. This was in early 2000’s and the computer turned on. It turned on when we were all in the next room and we heard it click on, the screen buzzing on and it automatically loaded the phone dialer that Grandpa Little used as his long distance phone. You were trying to tell us you were with us and not be afraid.

Or like when His Grandpa came and visited him in his dreams. Both with messages of love and warnings. Warning him to watch out for red lights – the next day listened to his grandpa’s advice and didn’t go on a green light because he had one of those feelings. He narrowly missed someone running the red light that could have t-boned him badly. Warnings are sign that the dreams you have of deceased loved ones are visitation dreams. I believe it wholeheartedly.

Same thing when my uncle passed away. My mother felt when he was gone from this world. Even before they called (We don’t mention these things to grandma because she’s easily spooked)

Anyway, the point of this is of these thoughts is  how dearly i miss you and sometimes I hope you’d come and visit me before the great unknown. Perhaps, I didn’t see or read the signs that you did and I’m okay with that, because I believe you’re everywhere anyway. Just knock 3 times at my window at 3am in the morning, so I know you’re ok.

Discovery is a hidden pocket

I bought a pair of slacks a few months ago. Not the inexpensive shit. It was a pair of Calvin Klein, black suit pants, pressed and ready to go from Macy’s. It’s taken me awhile to succumb to the real world and dress like a professional but hey … i knew it was a matter of time.

The quality of the pants were nice to the touch … I appreciate well made clothes.

But these were different … i pull them on and button them , then clasp, then zip … ha! amazed because it fits so well! they were too long but i’m nifty with a needle.

Then i reach to my sides … don’t i have pockets? how could i not know there weren’t any pockets? Then i see a string … i pull it …

it gives way .. and i realize it was sewn shut.

do i feel stupid? was i supposed to know why it was sewn shut? I inferred that it’s to keep the pants nice and straight or something … yeah it’s a small insipid detail but …

it’s really the small things that sometimes count … without the pockets sewn shut would the pants be different?