Grandma gets her shit kicked in

choccoto:

Mr. White Squid, A Very Handy Crafter, Single (via hine)

(via justdeduceit)

my friends door… this doorway leads to a musical oasis =]

I had to go to the hospital today with my mom and grandmother beacuse her blood pressure was too low, thankfully she was ok but the woman in the room next to her was quite the oppisite. She was crying because she couldnt pay for her prescription. what has our country come to when a person becomes sick… is prescribed medicine but cannot have it. how on earth ws she supposed to get any better when she cannot obtain what she needs. The polotics is a whlole nother post but the morality is way to upfront to ignore. It’s not even really like there are slight comparisons to other countries… cananda’s helath care and medicine is free. really dont feel like elaborating but I just had to note this.

I remember last summer I had this job working with children, it was a great job, they all loved me including the councillors and my bosses. One particular day seemed certain to pull me down I had slipped up and wound up using fowl language, this wasn’t my finest hour. I could not bear the burden of my guilt I felt I had let my kids and co-workers down as a role model. That day I grabbed my skate board and my pay check and headed down town I went to the library and sat and thought for a while. The thought of escaping popped up in my head, such a silly idea I thought, and headed to cash my check. There was a bus leaving for New York in an hour and with only a skateboard and my earnings for that week I unconsciously headed home to retrieve my clothes and other assets. I took what I needed figuring I had enough to pay for food and such and headed towards to bus lead only by pure adrenaline and motive. The bus ride gave me time to think, never once did I regret my actions during the trip. I arrived with aspirations pointed only to the future, most of the time I had spent dwelling on the past so this was a refreshing change. I walked around with two bags filled with what I thought was necessary to “survive” looking back , It was quite the comedic spectacle. I figured that I would visit some old friends but this was after I enjoyed my freedom. freedom for me at the time was simply walking and reminiscing on what I had so passionately missed. I headed towards central park there I sat and read he local independent news paper and people watched I a pretty girl sunbathing on the rocks who was noticing me but I was to shy to approach her so continued exchanging glances until we parted ways, this definitely boosted my self esteem. I after strolling a while I visited the metropolitan museum where there I dove into the wonderful arts of the past and the relics that will last far beyond the future. My ride on the subway felt more comforting than home made french toast, unexpectedly made by my mother on such rare occasions. While at central park i noticed a french couple that stared at the same waters that I did with a style in dress and persona that beckoned me to revel on love of the past. So I decided to visit a friend that I had once been in love with I boarded the C train and headed to Washington street when I made way to her neighborhood, I noticed a family tinkering with bikes, as if cars where need. When her mother called her from the laundromat to come see me butterflies and false hope shuttered in my stomach at every person that walked past in hopes that it would be her. they then increased when I recognized her figure approaching me. The first moment was riddled with awkward moments fore we had not talked in years.. We walked and talked thinking of where to go, we then headed to Manhattan where we then walked and talked some more and held hands. Ayanna and I first met at church where we never spoke, only exchanged looks and knew something. It was not until we had camp together that we really spoke for the first time, but that one time rested in my mind. After hours of aimlessly walking around New York we made our way to the south street seaport where we sat and shared headphones, hand in hand head on shoulder we stared deeply into the lights of the Brooklyn bride in partial silence even though we shared the view with other lovers and admirers. after a few hours we decided to head back to her house the rest of the night became etched in history. The next morning she made breakfast and I helped her complete her chores ( she still had chores even though she was on leave from college, no rest for the hard working) she had convinced me that I should return home and that my mother and grandmother would be worried, I could not argue. a bus ticket was purchased and and we waited in the greyhound station for the bus to come saying goodbye became a back and forth effort but I managed to board. The entire trip back left me with thoughts of what had just occurred and once again placing it in the archives. It was then that I felt a part of something, a type of belonging hat I rarely feel something that I don’t even feel with my adoptive family but this feeling would never go forgotten. I later returned to work with a new prospective. This feeling soaked like tea in hot water, the flavor becoming stronger and stronger as it sat until the cup got cold… but the taste was still there.