Make way, make way!

Comfort zone, we all have them. Mine happens to be my bed with a YouTube video playing as I curl up and just relax. Most people say it’s healthy to break out of your comfort zone, to explore the world around you, make yourself uncomfortable so you can learn to be comfortable, or something like that.

I decided today to try to break out of my little hidey-hole and go and make some sort of fun out of my day off. So I called a fellow coworker and asked if she wanted to go to Gaylord. She and her girlfriend said yes and we were off.

On the way there, we all talked of weird phenomenons that had happened to us, and whether we believed in spirits and the after life. As we wandered around Walmart, we found cute little things that made us fa -girl out of control. We laughed and shared each other’s frustrations when we could t find what we needed in the jumbled up mess of inventory. We shrugged and headed out to Taco Bell to fill our bellies, then off to Meijer we went. Did I mention that the eclipse was going on as we were roaming about? Yeah, it was pretty creepy. We only had about a 75% coverage, and whoa, the entire world around d us was a mixture of yellow and grey. Once we got to the store, we saw a couple of ladies with their fancy eclipse glasses watching from their car, feeling all classy.

We roamed about, looking at various odds and ends, and we ended up in the electronics department. I was furiously hunting for a new band for my Fitbit, since I’m in housekeeping and find myself scraping the wall. Apparently that doesn’t do too well with the Fitbit bands.

Unable to find d a band to for, I turned around and my eyes landed in the soundtrack for Moana. needless to say I freaked out and snatched it right up. My coworker and her girlfriend looked at me like I was crazy and I flashed it in front of them. “GUESS WHO’S BLARING THIS ON THE WAY HOME!”

Before I knew it, the three of us were belting out in unison “Moana, make way, make way!!” in the middle of the aisle. The man at the desk turned at looked at us like we were INSANE, and we couldn’t help but crack up.

On the way home we listen to every single track, trying to hit the high notes and giggling about the fact that the Rock can ACTUALLY sing. I couldn’t believe that I didn’t feel panicky at all today.

Ya know, if someone would have told me that breaking out of my comfort zone would be so fun, I may have done it a long time ago.

Lack of…

I feel like my life is stuck on this endless loop of eat, sleep, and work. And that’s when I don’t have the kids running around. Pig sits patiently waiting for the moment we can run around and find wonderful moments. I hate to break it to her, but she has to wait some more.

With the hustle and bustle of life, I just can’t find time or motivation to run around and capture moments with her. Luckily Pig is just a camera, but I still feel bad. On days off I’d rather lounge around the house in pajamas while eating unhealthy but delicious food while browsing Facebook, pretending like I give a damn about the on going of the people I follow. Oh, you’re working today, that sucks. Oh no, you’re not getting along with the on again off again boyfriend, shucks. Wow, little Timmy just took his first turn towards big boy-hood by going boom boom in the toilet; you must be so proud.

I know that makes me sound heartless, and some days I just really am. Other days it’s just too difficult to be a normal person in every day life, I’d rather be in my comfiest pair of pajamas with a good book, blog, or podcast. I don’t get how people can be go-go-go all the time. That shit is exhausting.

Which brings me back to Pig, sitting proudly in front of her journal, twiddling her imaginary thumbs. Pigs job is easy, capture the moment. She doesn’t have to change her dial, hunt for the shot, make sure we are close enough for the shot. No, she just captures the moment. Like I said before, shits exhausting.

One day my motivation will come back. Until then I’m going to kick my feet up, pop in my headphones and binge Cold Coffee, or Conversations With People Who Hate Me. Pig will understand.

Memories

“When you dream, it’s actually your memories coming back to say hello,” my mother cooed as my father pressed play on my pink radio. I could hear the Muppets getting ready to sing my favorite bedtime song, “Dream”, and my heart began to race. What memory would greet me tonight? Would I be able to remember it the next morning at breakfast?

Memories danced in this Dreamland and one by one, they all came to greet me. “Courtney, do you want to picnic with bears today?” A giant fluffy bear asked, with a picnic basket in his massive paw. We ate peanut butter and honey sandwiches while we watched the little cubs roll around. After a while, momma bear came out with a plate full of steaming scrambled eggs and toast. After three bites, a black and white cat darted over to me and ran off with a fluff of eggs hanging out of his mouth and a single piece of Christmas tinsel draped over his tail.

A roar of laughter came from three little bunnies as I jumped up to chase the cat, and suddenly I stood in my back yard with a hula hoop whirling around my waist. Dad cheered and mom clapped, and the wonderful smell of my great grandma’s fried bread filled the air. Grandma slept in the armchair while grandpa watched another marathon of Star Trek.

Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled and suddenly I was sitting on the front porch with Dad. Storm watching was always so much fun!

A light flooded my vision and I heard dad called “Court, time to get up and get ready for school!”

As I walked to the kitchen, heavy footed and all, my mom asked me how I slept. I beamed as I sat down and told her my many adventures in memory land.

All I heard as I waited at the bus stop were my parents calling, “dream big, little one”. At that moment I knew that everyday could be a wonderful adventure.

 

Nightmare land

I stood in our room, tears fighting to release from their dungeon. I watched as you threw all of your things in a suitcase you swore you’d “bring back” to my father. Words bubbled in my throat, only to suicide on the floor as I opened my mouth. We had been so happy for the last three years…and suddenly you chose to go.

“You aren’t the same person as before,” you answered my unspoken thoughts. “you parade around like everything is okay, and when you come home we don’t talk. You just hide in our room under the covers.”

I want to tell you I’m sorry, that I’m trying to get better, but the words don’t come out. I finally free the tears as I watch all of our future plans fade into smoke. You turn to me and I can read all of your thoughts like a book, “I need someone stronger” “you stress too much for me” “I can never seem to make you happy”. I want to tell you you’re wrong, that after a day full of grey clouds you are my sunlight, but I can’t.

As you grab your well packed items, my heart shatters. This is really it, isn’t it. The day I have always dreaded, the day I become a memory. My tears flow at such an alarming rate, I’m sure any moment I will drown, but I can’t bring myself to say anything. I can’t beg you to stay, I can’t promise to get better. How can I get better when my sunrise is leaving, dooming me into a world full of grey skies and personal demons.

“You promised to stay…” I selfishly choke out. There I go again, playing the victim. In a calm voice you look at me and say “you promised to try,” before walking out the door.

I crash into the bed, now empty as I hear your car start, knowing now is the time to run after you. To say all the thoughts that were building a dam in my throat. My body refuses to move, but you don’t. I hear you pull out of the driveway for the final time. The tears have stopped flowing, almost to say that they are going with you. Why would they stay with a monster?

After a year I am feeling a slight bit better, and I return to my every day Life. Work in the morning, attending my son’s events at school, only to return home to my very lonely empty bed. It’s a never ending cycle. A monster can’t love, and it will never truly be happy.

My heart races at the thought of you, then breaks knowing I drove you away. I can’t help but feel like I’m in a never ending nightmare, until I hear your voice, I see your smile, and I feel your warm embrace. I don’t want to tell you about the events in the nightmare, I don’t want to hear promises that can’t honestly be kept. I turn to your side of the bed and hope to keep you there for just a little while longer.

Life in a nutshell

I apologize for the lack of posts! I am here but I’ve been spending my time living life.

I’ve been working and raising my kids. One of my children is in baseball, and I’ve been honored to watch him grow as a member of a team. My other child likes learning things with me, so I’m happy to have a little assistant. 

I left a job that didn’t allow much time with my kids to go back to a job that I never really wanted to leave. As far as a worker, I think I’ve found my permanent job, at least until I feel comfortable enough to go to college, and that won’t be any time soon. 

As far as friendships, I have one best friend d who is there for me when I need him, and I’m there when he needs me. If you would have told me I’d have a best friend again after the death of my only best friend, I would have laughed in your face. Congrats Spencer, you’ve earned the title. 

Regarding my love life, I’m very happy to be arriving closer and closer to my three year anniversary with a man who takes me for how I am. He doesn’t expect me to sugar coat how I am. He doesn’t expect me to wear a permanent smile on my face. 

I have finally reached a happiness in my life that I never thought was possible. It was all around me but always out of my reach. 

My lesson for today: love your life. Perfection is all around you. 

Why?

This morning I was relaxing in bed, watching Todrick Hall’s “Straight Outta Oz”, when the following question crossed my mind: WHY. 

Now, before I get going on this, the question was not about the video. As a matter of fact, the video made me feel so many emotions at once, and it was truly a wonderful experience. If you decide you don’t want to listen to a whiny almost 26 year old complain and question things, I suggest you go watch that video. Yes, it’s over an hour, but it’s story will captivate you from beginning to end, and the tears will flow. Please, by all means, enjoy this journey. 

For those of you still with me, let me elaborate on the “why?”. As I was welcomed into Todrick’s masterpiece I noticed I was picking up on the lyrics more than usual. Let’s start with his song “Black and White”. It’s basically stating that we live in a world that wants us to dream, but the dreams better fit into today’s society. No dreaming of better, it needs to conform and be normal. Why?! Nobody in this world is normal, because there is no such thing. My definition of normal is someone who isn’t boring, they have random bouts of silliness. To my boss, normal is someone who is quiet, but not too quiet. To my coworker, normal is working out after work, remaining calm, and being slightly social. There, prime example of three different definitions of normal, proving normal does not exist. 

How about the song he sings about gun violence? Yeah, he talks about that. He’s saying that we need to protect each other from the pain and suffering that comes from careless, violent acts. Why, in 2017, is this still an issue that people cannot comprehend. If you want to have a gun, fine. But don’t be a fucking moron with it. Don’t wake up one morning and decide to kill someone. Is this that hard to figure out? And before you say that he’s talking about gun violence towards people of color, I urge you to educate yourself. Watch the video, hell I’ll even provide it for you, and notice the name Christina Grimmie painted over some graffiti. If you still don’t know who Christina Grimmie is, learn from Google. Or allow me to sum it up. Christina Grimmie was a young, aspiring artist. She started her career on YouTube, the same place Mr. Hall found his, and she found herself on the Voice, then found herself singing at her own concerts. If you noticed in my small summary of her the word was, congratulations. I said was because she was murdered. Why? Because someone with a fucking gun got a little trigger happy and couldn’t leave his weapon at home.

Let’s explore his song “Dumb”. This song has to be my favorite. He’s talking about artists flipping music left and right, with no heart in their work, and they make millions. He tried to be recognized for his talent, and because he is “made of burlap” people expect to hear rap from him. He also takes a glorious jab at women being less paid. In one song, he’s picking apart everything that is ignorant and outdated, and calling it what it really is, dumb. 

Why in the hell is all of this shit still a problem? Why do we sit by, quietly watching while hate is pumped into us. Why?! 

During one of the songs, “Expensive” I noticed something. Drag queens are walking down a runway, looking glamourus as all hell, and some are bigger than size zero. I started thinking that the standards society set for women may be just straight people being dicks. Now hear me out. Models are expected to be skinny, perfect, essentially a walking Barbie doll. But women come in all shapes and sizes, so why don’t models? I keep hearing “bigger women can model too” but the women aren’t that big! It’s still an issue of size! Now with drag queens? Oh honey, in the “Expensive” video, there are queens of all sizes, each looking phenomenal, and I realized that I was looking up to the wrong “women”. Why in the hell would I blindly worship a woman who counts calories, willing stays the size of stick knowing young girls are looking up to them? No baby, the drag queens are the true idols here. They know their beauty and they flaunt the hell out of it. Yes mama, that is who inspires me. So the question I have, why, in 2017 are will still allowing companies to market products on women the width of a number two pencil? Why should these companies be allowed to make strong, beautiful, intelligent women feel like they are worthless because they aren’t fitting into the cookie cutter beauty? Nah, fuck that. 

Why, why why? I don’t have the answers, and when I think I get close to a break through, everything explodes in my face. I don’t understand anything when it comes to why things are still an issue. I’m raising one boy to respect women are all sizes, to know women are the same as men, and to respect everyone, no matter how high or low they are in life. I’m also helping my boyfriend raise a daughter to know that she isn’t expected to stay at home and cook while her man brings home the bacon. She doesn’t need to be toothpick thin to be beautiful, and she uses her brain more than her looks in life. But what are we supposed to tell them when they ask us why? 

“Mommy, why are people saying women should stay in the kitchen?” “Courtie, why can’t my best friend feel safe coming out to us?” “Mom, why can’t a black man feel safe walking down the road?” “Courtie, why does a woman have to be so careful at a party, why can’t she have a good time and boys leave her alone?” 

What do I tell them? If you are a person who has problems with women, LGBTQ+, people of color, bigger women, or anything that doesn’t fucking involve you, tell me what I should tell my children. Tell me what to say when my step daughter is getting ready for her first drink at 21, and she is spending three days beforehand learning self defence with her father, only to come to me who teaches her to hold on to her drink. To make sure she is at a safe place, that she’s in a group, that of she feels like something is off to find an out. Tell me what to tell my son that is being taught by bigots and racists that it’s okay to hate people of different races or religion. Tell my son why he got beat up for standing up for his gay friend. Hell tell my son how much of a piece of shit his bisexual mother is, I’m sure that will go over real well. 

Tell me why this is still an issue. 

Tell me why we can’t fucking mind our own business and let others be happy. 

It’s 2017 for crying out loud. It’s time to put your nose back on your own face, and stop putting it in other people’s business. 

(Videos will be added later, once I get my laptop up to par once more.)

End rant. 

Things we all need to hear 

To those who desire more, I will join you in your fight. You should never be afraid of an outcome.

For those afraid to ask, I will stand by you and be your voice. I will be your voice until one day you project your thoughts as though your mouth is a megaphone. 

To those that are tired, the fight is almost over. You are strong, but if your strength is hiding, I will move the boulders for you. 

For those who feel alone, look around you. I will be standing by your side. Your tears may sting your cheeks now, but know that I shed tears for you as well. 

To those who have tried and were shot down, I will be your mob. I will really around you and fight for another chance. Your bravery will not go unnoticed. 

For those who feel like they are nothing to anyone, you are everything to me. Your smile is the reason I fight every day. 

To those who need someone, look no further. I am here. I will sing through the night, shade you from the blinding sunlight, but only if you ask me to. I will listen with open ears about the things that others shut you down about. 

Please don’t forget, I am here. 

Heaven or Bust

When I was younger, my father took me to church. While he sat upstairs with the other adults, I was downstairs with the youth group. The only thing I can really remember about Sunday school is that I asked a lot of hard hitting questions that the teachers really couldn’t answer, which made me start to think that this church thing wasn’t for me. The church I went to was rather small, and it seemed that everybody wanted to know your business outside of church. It didn’t help that I was from a small town, and that this was normal. I remember asking a lot of questions, much like adulthood I was a curious child. If there wasn’t evidence, I was less likely to believe it.

At the beginning of every Sunday school session, a video was always played. One song was the go-to:
“Jesus loves the little children ………. – red and yellow, black and white…..” being the curious child I was, I immediately raised my hand.
“Does everybody have the same God as us? Like everybody in the world prays to the same God as me?” I had to be nine or ten at this time, but the look I got from my teacher began feeding my doubts.
“Of course! Didn’t you hear the song? God created all of the children, and expects them to sing his praises to other people, people who may have strayed from Him.”

This reply, of course, got the wheels in my mind turning. Strayed away? How can someone stray away from God? What makes people decide to stray away? If God created all the children, why do certain people believe in other things? I needed answers! I didn’t know at the time, but the questioning made me a problem.

I recall coming home from school one Wednesday, and my step mother told me that I need to go to church with her that night. I choked up, not wanting to go. “But why?” I managed to choke out.

According to her, I was straying from Jesus. I later learned that the Sunday school teacher was concerned with my constant barrage of questions about religion. I learned at a young age, long before the teenage years, that adults don’t like to have to explain something like religion. You blindly follow, because that’s just what we do.

After a couple months, the church as a whole learned why we never seemed to expand our small church. Our pastor was skimming from the collection tray, using the money for himself. My mind went spiraling with questions again. If he is the voice of God for our church, why did he do it? The answer was always “he strayed from God”.

I have to give major props to my dad. He asked my step mom why she made me go to church, if all I did was question. “Why force her? Let her choose on her own,” I heard him tell her, and her reply was her famous exasperated scoff. In the end, I didn’t have to go to church anymore. When the rest of the family would leave the house, I would jump on the computer and turn to the one place that would always answer my questions without trying to derail my thought process – the internet. Over the course of a month I learned that not everyone prays to the same God as me. There are people that believe in many deities, and some people that didn’t believe in anything. My mind was singing with this newfound information, and I just had to know more.

There came one Sunday where my stepmom wasn’t feeling well, and nobody went to church. Instead of diving into the internet search, I launched the encyclopedia we had on our computer and started looking up other religions. Buddhism, Paganism, Catholicism, the list went on! There were so many religions, and I was swimming with knowledge. I remember that night at dinner, I was bursting at the seams, ready to share the information with my family. My dad listened intently, happy that his daughter was finally getting answers. When he walked away, my step mother scolded me for believing the lies. From that day forward she watched what I did on the computer.

I didn’t understand what was going on. Not everybody believed in the same God…not everybody was willing to follow something so blindly. I resented religion with every fiber of my being, and specifically mine for lying to me, for never answering my questions. I couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal to be curious.

Now that I have a child, I swore to myself that if ever he wanted to go to church, that was his decision.  I wouldn’t force him to go like my stepmom did with me. If he has questions about other religions, we will approach those as they come. Because I know how his mother was. His mother was curious, and naturally he will be too.

Update

Good morning people of the internet! I’m currently on my last day off for this week and decided to go back and read some of my old posts, granted there aren’t very many, and I noticed a pattern. 

On the later posts, I noticed I’m not my chipper and happy self. I’d be lying if I said that I was okay, just moody. Over the past month or so I’ve been pulling away from things that make me happy, and kind of falling into my own little bubble of sadness and self depreciation. Things happen sometimes, and I figured instead of posting more little posts that are basically just me complaining, I’d not post until I could find myself again, and go back to being happy. 

Boy was that a tough journey. It took a lot of spoken word poetry, watching gamers play some amazing games on YouTube, and self talks to get me to where I am now. I don’t ever want that feeling of sadness to come creeping up again. The feeling of being sad all the time with no indication as to why you are sad is just monsterous. 

I can’t explain why it happens, nobody really can. Sure scientists and psychologists will say it’s the makeup of the mind, but nobody can explain why the mind does what it does. 

I’m pulling away from my real intent on this post. My real intent was to a) apologize for the depressing posts b) apologize for the lack of posts and c) to let anyone reading this know that no matter what you are dealing with, it isn’t permanent. Eventually everything will be okay. You just have to hold on tight. 

That’s all for now! My posts may not be daily, semi daily, or whatever I decided, because I want these to be true and genuine. So ill be posting more often, but without a set schedule! Have an amazing day! 

Reset?

wp-1489577295481.jpg

Found this gem on Facebook, thank you to whoever posted this for the post inspiration.

If you were given the opportunity to reset your life, would you do it? This is a question I get asked a lot. I have many questions, but never the answer. Do I get to remember everything I’ve learned so far? Will I get to right my wrongs and still have a decent outcome in life? I guess now is the time to start thinking of the answer.

There are a few things in my life that I’m not proud of. I’m not proud of giving my all to people who didn’t give a damn if I was there or not, I’m not proud of quitting school when I was younger, and I’m certainly not proud of how I handle the stresses of everyday life. But would I really reset? This reminds me of a line from another great Spoken Word poet, Neil Hilborn, from his poem “The Future”. He says “I think a lot about killing myself, not like a point on a map, but rather like a glowing exit sign at a show that’s never been quite bad enough to make me want to leave”. Resetting your life is essentially killing the old you to make a new you, right? Or maybe that’s just my morbid thinking. Maybe this is why I love slam poetry, it makes the morbid thoughts of mine seem normal. Let’s get back to the main topic, shall we?

If I were to ever reset my life, how far would it take me back? Would I get to pick the age where my life started sliding into fuck town, or would it be an automatic reset of life in general? Would I get to choose my gender? That would be nice, not being a woman, but then I’d never have my son or the man who loves me today. But I’d be paid more and treated less ignorant than I currently am. Then again, I’d never be able to show emotion as a man without being told to “man up”, which leads me to another poet, and his “ten responses to the phrase man up”. The problem is, like Neil said, my life is a show that isn’t bad enough for me to leave. Despite how much I bitch and complain about my life, it’s never that bad. I don’t even think it’s that bad, at least the normal part of me. There is always one part that wants more. But what more could I have? Most people would kill for the job I have, or at least the pay. I have a very loving and accepting boyfriend who takes each and every break down in strides. You see, he isn’t used to someone like me, someone who can go from happy and content to sad and morbid in just a matter of days. He isn’t used to someone who’s mind thinks that everything will be fine, just as soon as you blow all of your money on things you don’t need. He now understands why I am so persistent on making sure all of the bills are paid, because if there is ever a moment I cannot control the constant nagging of my mind to do the dumbest shit, at least I’ll know we are set for that month. You see, he has dated normal girls before me. Now these girls danced dangerously over the line of ignorant and selfish, but they were normal none the less. Now that’s something I’d kill for – normality.

How many people do you know can’t go to a funeral of someone they don’t know? Well, if you came to this post not knowing anyone, you will leave knowing that I can’t. That’s right. Hypersensitivity is one of the WORST  things ever. I remember getting a call from my friend, begging me to come to another friend’s funeral, someone I had never met. She needed moral support, and more importantly a designated driver. I got ready, picked her up, and made the quiet drive to the funeral home. It took five minutes of being in the room, and I was whisked away by my own emotions. Tears streamed down my  face, my chest tightened, I felt like it was my best friend that died. Needless to say, my friend got upset. She couldn’t understand that I, being in the same room as roughly fifty distraught people was enough to send me over the edge.  That is a moment I would love to reset.

I struggle with my makeup, making sure it looks perfect. My sister sits next to me, talking me through each step. She smiles as I complete each step correctly, and she explains where I messed up. By the time I am finished, she is beaming. It was just a small amount of time spent with her, but I treasure it forever. Don’t take this away, Reset.

Or the time I came to my boyfriend now, when we first met, and told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I wasn’t ready for someone to treat me right, because at the time, I didn’t know I was worth being treated right. Hell let’s be honest, there’s still moments I don’t think I need to be treated right. But there’s something so special about someone who wakes up at 2:00 am when he should be sleeping to roll over and hug me tightly, no words spoken for a long time because he knows that all I need is to be held. He does this because he knows I can’t hold myself together, so once again he needs to be my glue. I wish I could tell him I get better. I wish I could tell him that this is the last time he needs to piece me back together after I have slowly destroyed myself from the inside out. This is a moment I wish I could reset.

My boyfriend and our children are preparing to head to the lake, and even though I can’t deal with cold water, I go with them. I haven’t smiled this much in a long time. Our children are the best behaved kids in the water, and we are still so much in love, much like the first time we met. Our fingers laced with our children’s, we floated there together, as if we were all slowly floating into space, dancing among the stars. I would not change this for the world.

My son comes home, throwing his backpack to the floor with such a high amount of sass that I am taken aback. I’ve noticed a pattern, this only happens on days that I have to leave before dinner is finished to go to work. He is angry at me, but I hope that one day he will understand, but until then he holds his anger inside. He learned this from me. He bites his tongue to drive the tears back to the deep well inside, but that well is about to overflow. He is only seven, but he is already learning how to numb himself. Part of me wants to pick up the phone and call work, telling them that I can’t come in because my son needs me, but they wouldn’t understand. I’d have a point against me, one less point to use when absolutely needed, and one day less that I may be able to pay the bills. Please let me reset.

I am standing on stage in my graduation cap and gown. My mother, father, boyfriend, son, sister, aunts, and uncle are silently holding their breath. This is a moment we all have waited for this moment. The announcer slowly says my name and I glide to the small black X located center stage. I hold my breath as the two people I’m standing in the middle of hand me my diploma. I finally did it. There are cheers from my family and I am shaking, fighting the happy tears. This is a moment to remember forever.

My father and I bond over a cup of coffee after he takes my child to the bus stop. We talk about life, or listen to The Beatles, or bake, or just sit in silence. I remember a time when I looked at him and said that I wanted to live with my mom, because I didn’t like the woman he married. I remember watching his eyes flash and pain replace them. I am not proud of myself. This man taught me how to be happy with what I have, how to love people for how they are, and because I didn’t like his current wife I am abandoning him. Perhaps that is why I’m afraid to start my own life, because I don’t want him to feel abandoned again. Please reset!

As you can tell, life is a mixture of happy and sad times. But for the life of me, I can’t find any reason to press the button. Resetting my life would mean killing every moment that has made me who I am. In some cases, resetting seems like a great idea, removing the extra stress on those I love. But they love me, and they would help lift the metaphoric boulder on my shoulders that I seem to feel that I need to carry. Resetting isn’t an option, moving forward is. And as Neil said: “I saw the future, I did. And in it…I was alive.” My future will not involve a reset button, because my memories and lessons need to be kept alive.

Enjoy “The Future” – my ultimate go to spoken word poem.