Time To Take A Look In The Mirror

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It truly is time for the people of the world to look in the mirror and see that there is only one “race” that will ever matter. Every single human being here on planet dirt share one bond that, no matter what, can never be changed, we all belong to the human race. With that statement I could actually close this post and consider it complete. But, I’m not done yet because there are so many boneheads out there that just don’t get it. Why? Is it too simple in the complexity of our society? Have human beings not evolved enough to recognize that it isn’t our color that makes us different, it’s our DNA. Even with that being said, DNA isn’t even enough to separate one person from every other person on the planet. I have read plenty over the years about how “race” divides our societies and just recently I read a very interesting article at “Classic Ruby: Unadulterated” which sparked up a conversation between myself and the author. She has a way of delivering a message that made me sit back and take a moment to give it all some thought.

Before we actually get into my personal thoughts on “race” I want to point out, especially for new readers, that I am color blind in real life. I don’t use the term metaphorically to make a point but to illustrate how there might be a perspective that y’all haven’t thought about before when thinking about the races on our planet. Sure, I see some color, but I don’t see color the same way as others. In reality, it’s not color blindness but more like seeing with a color deficiency. Overall, it is hard for me to explain, but that’s not the point of this post either. I will make it simple, because it is simple, we need to look at the person next to us as a fellow human. One’s color has little to do with who that person really is. We should spend less time worrying about what race someone is and spend more time just being human to one another.

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But its complicated isn’t it. We can’t look at another human being in black and white. Why not? In my opinion, based on my experiences in life, I find it is because we get programmed through our learning early in life to judge another person because of their color. Why? because they are different than what we see in the mirror. How does that end? I have had people tell me I have it easy in life because I’m white and they are handicapped because they are not white. That being bullshit is putting it mildly. We all take a different course in life, we all make different choices, and we all make different decisions. No, we definitely are not all the same but we all definitely bleed the same color, red. Perhaps it is everything we have in common with each other that drives us to notice the obviously distinctive differences. We need the other person to be different because we don’t want them to be like us. All races are no different in the fact that they like to point out and clarify the differences between the races. But then we sub-divide within the race we belong to as well, further dividing us from our neighbor.

So, I’m white. Does that make me wrong? Does it make me less aware of what the difference amongst the races are? I have been told before, in fact today being the latest time that I’m white therefore I can’t possibly understand anything beyond being white. Why not? Here’s my opinion why not. Look around you, listen to some different music, drive into a different neighborhood, talk with some new people, and y’all will see that different races thrive on being different. They say it makes us a stronger race to recognize ourselves. No, it makes you stupid because you choose to continue with false propaganda witch harms the different races. Have a culture, have a way of life, but don’t use those as excuses to not allow everyone else to do the exact things you want to have freedoms to do. So we are different, so the fuck what.

In closing, I would like to mention that I don’t judge you by your race or your skin color. I will judge you by the words you speak and the actions you take. Too damn bad that every single person on this planet can’t do the same. Racism, at least in the United States, is kept alive by the very people who claim it is holding them back. Again, why? I have found that some people need to be mad at something, anything, right or wrong. People prey on “race” because there is money to be made and 9 times out of 10 it is the same race preying on their own, admit it to yourselves, every race does it. Why? I think this might be a good place to sew up this corpse I have been kicking so I can bury it once again. Race, racism, and the people who proliferate it’s existence really piss me off. I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Feel free to comment openly. Maybe this time I will get to read something new.

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Discussing The Human Race

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When we gather at the dining room table it always amazes me what seems to creep into the conversations while we eat. Last night we talked about “race”, “racism”, and “the human race”. The conversation got me to thinking afterwords because we raise our children that there is one race on planet Earth and that is the Human Race. Why do we raise our children not to look too closely at race? Because a person’s race should have nothing to do with what kind of person he/she actually is. I like to call it breaking the race stereotypes.

The history of my beliefs is based on my own life experiences. Yes, of course, I understand that what works for me doesn’t work for others in every situation, but they are my developed personal beliefs that I try to live with. Meaning? When I was younger, 7 to be exact, my parents decided not to be married any longer for reasons I would not learn until after the death of my father when I was a teenager. When my mom got re-married we moved from the Black Hills of Rapid City South Dakota to the southwestern side of Houston Texas out in the suburbs. Up until that point in my life my interaction with other races was limited to white people and Native Americans (Cheyenne & Lakota Sioux). I had never met anyone of any other race until we moved to Texas.

My step father was, by definition, an open racist and homosexual hater. Growing up we would hear anything and everything negative about what he doesn’t like. Over time one gets brainwashed into believing the way he believes. However, in my defense, growing up a redneck helped me learn that people are people and their race or sexual orientation was not a precursor to certain behaviors. Although, if one watched the news too much one would here that the blacks, Mexicans, Asians, and homosexuals were destroying Houston bit by bit with their crime and cultural influences. I would regularly be in trouble with my father because we disagreed about his racist and homophobic views. I didn’t want to be any part of it so when I could I always made sure I would distance myself from it, people are people, we all belong to one race in my opinion, the human race. Sometimes it made life at home interesting and somewhat difficult, especially after my dad died, he was still stuck in the hippie mentality of love, peace, and rock & roll.

Soon enough after high school I was married to my high school sweetheart and going into the United States Air Force. The first lesson every single person learned when we got off the bus for AFBMT (Air Force Basic Military Training) at Lackland AFB in San Antonio Texas was that we were in the military now. There were no races, no sexes, and the only thing we were to see from each individual from this point forward was that this person was camouflage and an Airman in the United States Air Force. I appreciated this new way of thinking a great deal, it really made sense. While in AFBMT we were all equally worthless maggots. After AFBMT people tend to go back to their old ways, the ways that they were raised, they would group themselves together based on race it seemed more often than not. In the careerfield I chose it was taken many steps further, we were AMMO up and above everything else. AMMO was a brotherhood that I am still finding out this very day is built on the platform that we are who we are but we are always part of the AMMO brotherhood. my first daughter was born while I was in the Air Force so she wasn’t bombarded with all the race bullshit that civilian born children would be bombarded with. She was now an Air Force Brat.

After the Air Force I found myself back in Texas. I was lured into great riches from my father who was a concrete contractor at the time. He was busy and needed help in the “family business” and I was unemployed so the job sounded good. Due to where we live, most of the skilled labor in the construction arena were of Mexican decent. My father treated them like shit, treated them like dogs, treated them like they were less than humans. I couldn’t stand it in the past and I couldn’t stand now. I hoped as he got older he would mature and mellow out a bit, but I was wrong, he was still a bitter old white man who believes that if you aren’t white you aren’t worth a shit. I didn’t last long, not for obvious reasons, but because he decided to retire and close the doors of his business he had been doing since the mid 70s. He had a good run, made some decent money, and wanted to retire. So be it.

Life continues, right? It did. I also re-married after getting a divorce. My new wife came with a little girl, barely 1 1/2 years old at the time we met. I would find out over time that her ex is quite a racist as well, reminds me of my father in many ways. Now, over time he has tried to rub off on my daughter, yes, my daughter, I am her dad, he was but a sperm donor. But, she wasn’t raised that way, she wasn’t raised to hate a person based on their color. My son, he as well, has not been raised in that fashion. All of my kids see it daily at school, work, and with other families of their friends. But they know that treating people like shit based on color is a choice and they choose not to be that way.

I want my children to see that we are all humans, we belong to the human race, there isn’t anything else that matters, period. Of course, as they get older their influences will change and all we can do is hope we raised them right and in a manner which is comfortable for them to accept. It is sad to see but racism is still strong here in the United States. But nowadays I need to sit back a bit and look at who is being the racist. Just because a person is white doesn’t automatically make them a racist. I know, what a concept. Listen to the music today, listen to the news, listen to the politicians, and listen to your neighbor, racism is alive and well. I fear it may never go away because too damn many people are getting famous and getting rich because of racism. Racism isn’t the answer, being a human being and being part of the human race is what is important.

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Note To Self: Just Breathe

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The absolute worst time to have an anxiety panic attack is while you are sitting in a chair with a needle mere millimeters from the vein it is about to puncture. How do I know this? I know this from first hand experience this morning. But, before I get into that and what happened next, y’all might need to catch up a bit by reading “An Attack Of Aichmophobia” which was written by me on 19 December 2013 and can explain a little more why I was having blood drawn in the first place. The blood was to serve a two fold purpose, one to do my Hemoglobin A1C panel for diabetic medication prescription renewals and also to see if I had anything weird going on which might explain me really freaking out around needles. I know, made no sense to me either. Why stick someone with a needle that has been freaking out about being stuck with needles here lately. Needless to say, the blood could not be drawn as requested because I threatened to stick the needle where the sun don’t shine to the technician. I ended up back in my doctor’s office where I was introduced to Klonopin or at least the doctor thought he was introducing us for the first time. I’m real aware of this drug as it is one of the drugs my son takes to try to “control” episodes he has because of being bipolar. I have tried to use some humor in the last post because it has been my way of dealing with the fact that I’m pretty fucking scared at this point in my life. I mean, ask yourself, how can a diabetic get away from sharp objects?

Meanwhile, while sitting in the doctor’s chair, figiting and sweating like a whore in a Catholic confessional, the doctor went over my “symptoms” and any known allergies. By this point I’m agitated, I want to go home, I want to get the hell away from all of this to sort it out. The doctor offered me a small pill and a small sip of water in a very small paper cup. He said to take it so we could continue our conversation. So, I complied, I took the pill. Within a few minutes my mind was clearing up, my focus was coming back, and it seemed like I just might be coming back to my senses. A quick check of my pulse, my blood pressure, and a tiny flashlight in my eye revealed to the doctor that my anxiety attack has come to it’s conclusion. Wow, now that was impressive, it worked almost as well as the calming effects my wife’s cold hands have when she places them on my neck when comforting me. He went on to explain that what I had just taken was 2mg of Klonopin. Within a few minutes I was back in the lab chair with a needle in my arm drawing blood and I could really care less. The only thing I could think of is where is my pain, where is my fear, am I dead. I’m a very firm believer that fear and pain are two very basic elements that ensure our safety and remind us that we are indeed still alive. I felt neither but I did feel scared. I imagine how my son must feel, what must be going on inside his brain as he watches what happens around him. Does it have the same effect on him.

That is that. A short walk down the hallway to meet my wife in her office. After seeing she was in there alone I walked thru the door, closing it behind me, where I sat down in one of the chairs at the front of her desk, all I wanted to do is just breathe. She made no comments about what had happened. If I know her the way I think I know her then nothing will ever be said. She did mention that she would pick up my new prescription on her way home with all the instructions. I leaned in to give her a kiss, not saying a word, and I left. I got into my car and found myself going to work. I have spoken to her since because she called to check up on me. She tried to explain that from now on I will need to take this medication prior to testing and prior injecting until I feel it is all under control like it once was. Will it ever get back under control? Will it ever be the same again? Have I lost what I thought I had control of just days before? I have come to the point that I really have grown to dislike this whole diabetes thing. Seems everyone has a way to kick it’s ass. I wish I could find my way to kick diabetes square in the ass and right out the door. Is this the part when someone tells me that we reap what we sew? Unfortunately I can’t go back in time, nor do I want to either, tomorrow is another day, to be dealt with like any other day I suppose. I just need to remember to breathe.

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