WITH MY EYES
Tell me, how would you see your world if you were to look through my eyes? Would the Sun shine as bright? Will seeing the flowers she loved bring you joy or sorrow? Will music sound just as sweet? Or will memories well up so strong that sometimes you cannot bear to listen or see? Do you still occasionally get up early in the morning and race to the country with hot coffee and sit on the hood to watch the sun rise? Looking at your world through my eyes, will it still be just as exciting, sitting there alone, holding no one's hand and whispering to no one about the daily miracle? Tell me if you saw your world through my eyes, would you be more, or less understanding? Seeing your world through my eyes, will you be more or less tolerant? Would you be more patient or less, could you even know for sure which was what and where was when? Will you be excited or bothered when 'friends' come by to comfort you, then steal your possessions, some that you shared with the one you will never see again? Will you be understanding of those who roll their eyes when you begin to softly cry during a movie when two people in love are holding hands and kissing? If you are looking at your world through my eyes and someone asks you "How are you doing?" Are you going to be able to keep your mouth shut and not TELL them? Or will all your thoughts and emotions just fly out of your mouth like projectile vomit, as they back away looking at you as if you have lost your mind? When seeing your world with my eyes, will you nod and smile when you see two old people laughing and holding hands in the twilight? Or be saddened because your lover was snuffed out in mid-life, and you are now alone, and it seems as if no one has the time or patience to listen to, or understand you, or to even try? Often it appears that people barely tolerate me. Are you so sure that you will close your eyes of mine and look away from that friend who just doesn't quite get it? If you don’t see, you will be as unaware as I am. Is it so difficult for you to see my world through your eyes, even for just a moment, long enough to put away your hurt feelings because I was not there for you during the time I was not there for myself? Is it so hard for you to see I am not this way by choice? How would your world look through my eyes? Would you laugh as often or at the same things as before? Will my eyes meet your world each morning with anticipation or dread? Will you close those eyes of mine at night hoping for dreams to come, or afraid that they will? When you see your world through my eyes, is each day going to be an adventure or will you wonder from moment to moment if the very next thing is going to bring you to tears, and a flood of emotions you cannot control? Will you buy things while shopping with my eyes and not have memories of those trips past that make you run from the place leaving your basket behind and racing home to bury your face until you cry yourself to sleep? I would trade my eyes with you, for another chance to see again what the world looked like before. If it only was that easy, except I do not need such a trade, as I have seen with both types of eyes, and sadly the kind that knows death, misunderstanding, hurt feelings and loneliness, is what I see with my eyes now. I did not ask for this, I don't want it; I can barely stand the constant pain, my emotions on a balance beam, the longing, and nearly everyone dismissing me because I 'just don't want to get along.'
I do not have someone to touch my forehead when I am not well. I have no one to treat nice or comfort when she is sad or sick. There is no one for me to greet at the door at the end of the day. I rarely share anything with anyone anymore. I feel as if I have outlived my usefulness, and am in the way. I have had these eyes for just under a year, yet it feels like a lifetime. When was the last time you hugged your lover? When are you going to hug them again? I have not felt the touch of a kind soul since my wife died. Can you imagine how it would feel to you to not hold a special person in your life, or to kiss them passionately? I can explain the isolation a person feels, but why would anyone want to hear about that? My house is no longer a home, the silence is deafening. Shortly after Linda’s passing, I was overwhelmed with grief and sorrow. A 'friend' of mine offered to keep me company, and me being naïve, I was easily taken advantage of. With constant visits, and helping me around the place, I soon gave him much more trust than I should have, and had my situation been any different, I would not have been robbed. He having an ‘agenda’ that I was not aware of, with some friends, broke into my house while I was sleeping and took among other things, some items left to me by my late wife. Johnny apparently did this just to hurt me personally, he took nothing of any monetary value. I am not sure, but I suppose he had a great time double-crossing me in such an intimate manner. I know of nothing I did to that would make him act so cowardly, so scandalous, except that I hired him, and fed him and gave him a place to stay occasionally. This act frightened me to the core, to know that while I slept, safe in my home, he and his friends were cleaning out my office. I have now bolstered my home security with video surveillance and I also purchased several fire-arms, and I carry everywhere I go. I do not want to hurt anyone, and my property can, for the most part, be replaced. However, if you threaten me, or I feel backed into a corner, I WILL shoot you—dead. Make No mistake about that. I have watched a life taken naturally, and am strangely fascinated at how a life taken in violence would look.....
I am now considered a ‘senior citizen’ and cannot protect myself the old fashioned way, hence, the guns. I live alone too, and I live in fear, I have no regular visitors or callers, I do not want any harm to come to me. I am wary of others and I trust no one. Maybe things would be different if I wasn’t so often alone, but if anything were to happen to me, it might be a week before anyone noticed. I am not a tough guy, I do not challenge anyone, but I will take no crap at no time, from no one, no more. I would like to thank the people in my life that have forced me to see just how filthy-rotten this world can be, and so often is. I will not fall victim to lies, promises, thieves, hoodlums, gangsters, panhandlers, friends or relatives. Just be honest and straight forward with me and we'll get along just fine. But, if you have plans, best you choose someone else, or you might be explaining to St. Peter how you got so many bullet holes in you.
Oh, sure friends will offer to help, but there is always a price, either I must wait for them to get around to it, or there is an equity issue, a 'now you OWE me,' attitude. Yes, I get upset and even angry, I have no patience for people that have no patience for me. Sometimes I wonder how I maintain such a pleasant attitude with all my friends, helping hands, and loving family. "Wow, why are you so mad? When you said were not feeling well when I called, I told you I would buy that and bring it to you, because you sounded as if that would cheer you up. And I was going to, but I decided to do my own shopping at the same time and then met some friends there and we went for coffee. I came by three hours after you expected me, your house was open, but I did not check on you or leave your items, I didn't want to bother you. So why are you mad? That is why I'm calling you now, oh did I wake you?? Sorry, no I did knock, but not very loud, you see, I thought you were asleep and didn't want to wake you, so I just left, and oh, I took the items I brought to you with me. But I was worried that something might be wrong, that’s why I’m calling you now. So why are you mad? I said I would bring you those things, and I did, just way after you expected them, yes, I know you are not feeling well, that’s why I offered to help out, but I took the stuff with me instead of leaving them. I don’t understand why are you so mad? It's not the brand I like, so if you still want that stuff come over to my house, I'll give them to you. I don't get you. SO, WHY ARE YOU SO MAD???"
Sunday, June 17, 2012
The Ball Cap
A couple of decades ago, I was in the check-out line of a local supermarket wearing a ball cap with the words “I’m not arrogant, I’m just smarter than you” stitched into it. Someone, I did not know this person, punched me in the shoulder and said, ”So, you think you’re smarter than ME? I’ll take you out to the parking lot and show who’s smarter!” “Dude, it’s just a hat,” I said. Still he insisted right until the store manager intervened. The man was so angry that I removed the cap and have not worn it in public since…..
I have had both cats and dogs as pets. There are some profound differences between the two. By feeding and caring for a dog, he licks you and will nuzzle you and look at you as if to say, 'You treat me so well, you must be a God.' Do the same for a cat, and with a flick of the tail, he will look at you as if to say, 'I must be a God, you treat me so well.'
I am currently the pet of two cats, no really; they act as if they own me. Lead me around as if I'm on a leash. One of them, he's been around so long, I barely remember a time when he wasn't, the other, about seven years now. The older one, Mr. Miss-Hell, got his name by being miss-sexed as a kitten, and my young daughter named 'her' Michelle. I don't really know what goes through a young girls mind, or any female mind, for that matter. A cat named ‘Michelle.’ Cat was antisocial, wouldn't even let us pet him. I'm talking about a kitten, with attitude, a bad one. We discovered we had male cat soon after I ran him over with me truck. Run right over his pelvis, busted him up good, but he didn’t die, and the vet fixed him up, for a price. The only cat, and I’ve unfortunately run over three so far, that I was unable to kill. Misnamed, broken pelvis, AND he got neutered while at the vet, did nothing to improve his attitude, maybe even made it worse… I began to believe we were in the presence of an evil being. Because he was so unfriendly, we began calling the cat 'Miss-Hell,' soon after we found him. He was quick with the claws, and never, ever, purred. He would not let us touch or pet him, and he walked around as if he didn’t stink and he wouldn’t run away, even after I squished him! We decided by committee, we would simply add 'Mr.' in front of his already modified name. The cat didn't act any differently, ignored us as usual, until he would run up to one of us, talking while he ran, "My food dish! It's empty, about to pass out from hunger!" I of course, or one of us would get up, only to discover that there was plenty of food, but you could see the bottom of the dish. We would just move the food around some, and satisfied; he would turn, show his ass and begin to eat.
Now the Orange cat, big tom cat, huge, I never really named him. I received him as a kitten from Emily as a going away gift. She was moving to Arizona and with Linda working I was in the middle of my decent into depression. The kind that you do not even know is happening until one day, any day, you wake up, and you’re not there anymore. I will expand on my spiral into personal hell in another paper, this one is about cats. The Orange cat could not stop playing. Hide and attack, play with string and attack, attack attack, it didn’t matter, cat played and clawed, playful claws, not the mean kind like that other animal. By the way, I think the Orange cat also contributed to Mr. Miss-hell’s surly demeanor. As I wrote, we never named the Orange cat, Linda didn’t care, she believed that ALL animals belonged outdoors, and I was in no state of mind to name him and only played with him because he wouldn’t leave me alone. When it was his turn at the knife, the vet bill was for OC, original cat, orange cat, whatever. Cats don’t come when they are called anyway, so what’s the use in giving them any name other than Stir Fry.
Before then, before Linda's passing, our bed time was around ten PM. The cats were accustomed to this, and if we stayed up past bed time, they would let us know. This hasn't changed, I am rarely in bed by that hour though, and the cats have learned that by entering the room I'm in, and jumping on the desk and knocking things off as if they were clumsy, only gets them a lesson in flying. And yes, they DO land on their feet, mostly. Mr. Miss-Hell, or the gray and white cat, was brought into a family of four. Robin moved away first, followed a couple of years later by Emily moving. Between Robin’s exit and Emily’s, the gray cat softened some, in that he would let us touch him, not much or for very long, but progress. One day he tried to purr, by that I mean he let out this gawd awful rattling guttural sound that clearly indicated he was ‘happy.’ He was not very good at purring, and visitors when hearing him, would question us about the health of the animal.
Cats by nature apparently sleep, eat, clean themselves, sleep, eat and constantly want out, or in, or sometimes way too often, make like they want out, go to the door and when it is opened, they run back into the room, and hide. They hide because when I get my hands on them, flying lessons.
From outside, Mr. Miss-Hell will sit at the bay window, and touch the glass with paw, and when he gets my attention makes like he wants to come INSIDE. I go to the door, open it and the cat just sits there! I close the door and begin to walk away and the cat will go ape shit indicating he REALLY, REALLY wants in. Too bad for you, leave me alone, maybe he wants another flying lesson….
Cats actually talk! They do, ask any cat person, even had them tell me, "My cats talk to me, and I understand them! Am I losing my mind?" "No, no, perfectly normal, I wouldn't worry, oh look! I didn't know it was so late, gotta go now, bye!"
My cats, satisfied that they know the fundamentals of flying, wanting my attention, now enter the room and announce that THEY are going to bed, and if I want a good spot....
Interruption. Morning, 06,15,2012.
This morning I went outside to work on my scooter and my OC was standing by the back door. I opened the door for him to go inside, but he turned, flipped his tail and took a couple quick steps away. This is perfectly normal behavior and I thought nothing of it. I went back into the house at 11:00 AM just about an hour, I noticed the orange cat laying in the front yard, in the sun. This is not normal, I approached, and it became obvious that the animal was dead. I thoroughly inspected him, no mauling, good color of tongue, no broken bones and he was not run over, just simply dead, as if he ran out of life, and since the last time I saw him he was acting normally, I cannot assume he was poisoned. Too early in the morning for him to be assaulted by humans and he rarely leaves the yard anyway, I am completely stumped at this. Side note; I am strangely unaffected by the cat’s death, I did not mourn him, I simply buried him in the back, with a small marker. I was extremely upset over the death of my dog, ‘Nala,’ and still am emotional when I think of her.
Bed time for cats, mine at least consist of walking on me up and down, standing on me and looking intently into my face, then unceremoniously plopping down on my chest and cleaning themselves! Lick, lick, slurp, pull and spit. GTFO me you damn cats! Christ on the cross! Can’t you do this BEFORE I get into bed? This reminds me of Linda and something that always bothered her. I am guilty of sometimes farting in the bed, and not always just because I am too lazy or it happens to escape as I attempt to leave the room. Still, I fart. “Kenny! How rude! Why do you have to do that in the bed?” I actually never thought about it…Anyway, it was nothing to her to enter the bathroom while I am brushing my teeth and take her morning sabbatical! Sometimes, and regularly making me want to vomit. We have TWO bathrooms, but she doesn’t take the hint, even when I come right out and say it. So, to eliminate the issue, when I was suspecting that her morning visit was imminent, I would go into the other bath and finish my primping. She actually questioned me about it once! And when I explained it to her, she said she didn’t think her shit stinks, and I should be more tolerant of her bodily functions! I actually Loved, Love that woman, she could always make me laugh and we were rarely if ever angry at each other for any length of time. I truly miss the friend that I could talk about anything with, from politics to UFO’s, and all subjects in-between, then, hop into the sack and get all animal like on each other. We enjoyed each and every mutually agreed upon activity, both public and private. Miss you, Babe, hope to see you again someday!