You are not better than me...

You are not better than me.

Just like hating something is a learned behavior, so too is learning that people are sometimes just shitty ass human beings.  I am not talking about murderers, rapists, child abusers, etc. that is an entirely different classification of people…subhuman’s I like to call them.

What I mean is that we are not born with hate or even knowing what it means.  Everything is taught to us, shown to us, or we learn through experience.  And sometimes through process of elimination we also learn to dislike things.  Take lima beans for instance.  Mom served them, not often, but she did.  Father liked them.  No one ever told me to hate lima beans, and I wouldn't even say I HATE them, hate is a strong word, but I strongly dislike them.  I would never fix them.  I will eat them in a soup if it’s full of other stuff…but lima beans and kidney beans; I have a problem with these beans.  I am a pretty open and equal opportunity eater, so no one TOLD ME I was supposed to like them or not, I tried them, I didn't like them.  I am happy with this decision and can live with it. 

People?  People on the other hand, a little tougher to dissect then vegetables and I don’t mean literally.  Especially for me, because I give everyone the benefit of the doubt and even then, after I have allowed them a second chance or whatever, they usually disappoint me or let me down again and so I am a sucker for second chances etc.  People are not as clear cut for me as vegetables.  I am around a lot of people, not often, but enough.  Some I can take with a grain of salt, some I don’t care for, some I adore and love…it is life.  I always try to remember that it’s my choice.   Some make me uncomfortable, some I barely even know they are there, you know what I mean?  Like I wouldn't go to a party and hang around a bunch of people I am uncomfortable around, but I have been places where people are around but I don’t really or am not really affected by them.  Hopefully that makes sense.  Where am I going with this? 

Life in general teaches us many lessons.  Hopefully you get to be around people who embrace your individuality and allow you to grow through trial and error.  Try the damn lima beans and if you don’t like them, fine, but at least you tried…that goes with anything in life.  Just try.  Try to get along with a friends significant other or a co-worker you can’t really stand…I mean in some situations you have to bite it and do what you don’t want to do because it makes life easier.  I will not go so far as to PRETEND I like someone when I don’t.  I will tell you and then we can be around each other without any of that wondering…if a bunch of friends are going out and someone I am not fond of will also be going, I have a choice.  Go and deal with it, or don’t go and miss out…regardless it’s a choice.   

What lesson cannot be taught though is how shitty a human can actually be.  People will lie.  People will break your heart.  People will use you.  This is something you have to learn and usually the hard way.  When a person judges me for instance, based on my sexuality or political party, etc., I actually do not immediately dislike them.  I pity them.  I mean I genuinely feel bad for anyone who judges another human being.  Because a person generally judges another based on their own personal insecurities or lack of understanding.  I am old enough now to understand that.  What I will not pity nor will I ever understand, but I have had to learn as that some people just plain suck. 

Let’s make one thing clear.  You are not better than me.  Because you are you and I am me.  I don’t care if you can do a cart-wheel and I can’t.  I don’t care if you make more money than me.  I don’t care if you are Nobel Peace Prize winner.  You are not me.  So there is no way in hell, you can be better then something you are not.  And that is how I TREAT EVERY SINGLE HUMAN I MEET.  Or interact with.  I could never be a better parent then my sister; I would simply be the parent I am to my children.  No parent should compare themselves to anyone.  Can someone do my job better than I do it?  I am positive of that.  But they cannot do it the way I do it. 

Because of this, when I owned my own business, it was not above me to cook, to wait tables, to bartend.  Moreover it was not above me to take out the trash, scour the toilets, clean up vomit, sweep the floor, and dump the grease.  My first job, half of my day was spent cleaning sweat off of exercise equipment, folding towels and washing sweaty work-out clothes for people who made more money in a month than I would ever see in my lifetime.  My point is and maybe I am not like most people, but it is the biggest way to get me to respect you or lose respect for you.  None of us are so damn better than anyone else that they cannot be bothered with those menial things.  Because nothing is menial, it all means something.  The CEO of every company is only as good as the people that work for him or her.  Because they damn sure aren’t doing the day to day “menial” tasks that these people are doing.  No one is a peon.  That era left a long, long time ago.  But I sure as hell have a lot more respect for the CEO who started his job cleaning the bathroom or sorting the mail…he earned it.  Like respect.  It’s earned.  It’s not learned.  It’s not expected.  It’s EARNED.  For me anyway. 

So one of the things that no one taught me (and my Mom taught me a lot,) is that some people are really just and always will be assholes, on the sole basis of thinking they are entitled or that someone owes them something.  Guess what you asshat, no one owes you anything, get it yourself.  And if you can’t get it yourself, you probably don’t need it.

I set up a test today.  And it was failed miserably.  MISERABLY.  Although I am not surprised, I am outraged.  Outraged because I would like to tar and feather anyone who thinks they are better than me or anyone else for that matter.  If you can be me and do a better job, by all means, but since you can’t, shut your pie hole.  

If I Could Have a Beer With Jesus...

Once in awhile you hear a song, or a conversation, or something that prompts you to write.  Yesterday I heard that song.  It’s called “If I Could Have a Beer with Jesus.”  Interesting song title…typical country song, if you are in to stereotyping music…but if you listen to the words, you will understand. 

So obviously it got me thinking…what would I do, If I Could Have a Beer with Jesus?  Obviously I believe in him, or I wouldn't be writing the blog, so with that in mind, here goes.  In my head I imagine that he doesn't like your standard Coors Light, Miller Lite, etc…I imagine him as more of a craft beer drinker…if he even likes beer.

Initially I would probably think he was pulling my leg.  I mean, what would those odds be?  And since I don’t believe anything out of anyone’s mouth, I would have a hard time believing it.  I would NOT ask him to turn water into wine, or walk on water to prove it; I would just probably say do you even like beer?  Or are you a “spirits” guy?  No pun intended Jesus.  Seriously though, maybe he likes whiskey at which point I would have to not only agree, but decline to join him on having one because I would want to remember the conversation and with whiskey I would forget.  And I imagine he would say he knows that, all too well.

I would ask him what he was doing there, there with me.  Why me?  Probably because I have never given myself enough credit in life to deserve much, let alone such a visit.  I would ask how much time he had because that could determine the outcome of our conversation.  Like, do I need to ask about all my friends and family that have passed and how they are?  Because I think they are fine and if I really have his undivided attention there are some other things I would rather talk about. 

I would probably tell him that he looks nothing like I was “taught” he would look like.  I would also tell him one of my favorite books is “The Five People You Meet In Heaven,” and that I have always been suspicious that he walked among us like a regular commoner.  At which point I would say, aren't you just that?  A common man?  Was it hard to be you?  With all these people and their expectations?  And I would then get right to the heart of one of the biggest questions I have always wanted to ask him…Did you want this?  Did you want all these massive buildings where people are required to go to worship you?  Because I don’t think you did.  I don’t think that had anything to do with your mission.  And I would say but the religion I was brought up in said otherwise and that when I was old enough to make my own decisions, I stopped going to these buildings because I could find him everywhere.  That even if I made bad decisions I still had his opinion of me in the back of my mind.  And that I know enough to know that just believing in him does not exonerate me from sin, but living my life in such a way I would have expected him to is what guides me.  To love everyone equally.  To not assume I know why people make the decisions they make. To love unconditionally and with an open mind and heart.  To love all of God’s creatures.   And in my mind, he would say, NO Tiffany, I didn't intend for massive buildings to be built or people be told they had to go to them to believe in me.  If someone wanted to build these things, it was for people who needed that sense of companionship, people who needed to be around others to spread my words.  That he didn't think everyone would feel this way as some people find peace alone or with nature, or by doing good deeds.  That it was okay either way.  If I needed that in my life that was fine and if I didn't that was fine.  And I would say I KNEW IT!  Thank you…I have needed to hear that from you for a very long time.  And I would say, are you ready for another drink?  Because I tend to drink faster when I am chatty.

I would say OK Big J…I have some more questions for you.  Cancer.  Why?  Especially children.  And if we are only here on loan, how is it decided how long some get to stay, or what they have to battle while they are here?  Is there a department for that?  It seems like a lot of paperwork, or coordination.  Jesus?  Is this really Hell?  Right now?  Right here?  Our day to day lives?  Is that why some things are so incredibly despicable and wrong and awful?  Is that why what happened to you was so incredibly atrocious (but really just the beginning of how awful humans can be to other humans), because that was Hell?  And if that is the case, are those of us that leave here early, or horribly, or who have to suffer, are they really the lucky ones?  HELP ME JESUS.  Help me make sense of this.  Because all that suffering seems not fair if that is the case, but if you tell me because where they are going is going to make that all worth every second, well I may be able to buy into that.

I would ask him if he was sad.  Sad to see how far things have come and how advanced we have become as a society, but sad at how some things just get worse.  Like how easy it is to kill another human being.  How sometimes it can be so senseless. 

I would ask him what he does to unwind.  If he is Type A like me.  Does he have OCD?  Does he sleep well at night or does he toss and turn?  Does he cry and if he does, what brings a man like Jesus to tears?  In my mind he would answer that with yes, that he does cry and it happens mostly when we are so horrible to our fellow man.  That he knows he has no control over diseases and stuff like that, and really doesn't have control over our own personal actions either but that it brings him to tears when we treat others poorly, because we choose to do that.  We make a conscious decision to bully, belittle, demean, berate, verbally, mentally and emotionally abuse.  Those are the times he cries.  And I would say me to Big J…me too…

And eventually he would say, Tiffany, I need to move along, I have many beers to drink…you aren't the only one and I would say you know what, I figured, I couldn't be that lucky.  And I would thank him for his time and I would say I still can’t believe you picked me and he would just smile and put his arms around me and not pat, but hug, like the hug from Jesus I always imagined it would be.  Home.  It would feel like home.

I would say, one more thing Jesus, then you can go…I know, I know, you are very busy.  But I need to know this.  It’s like the only thing I have ever really wanted to know from you…

Are you disappointed in me?  Have I failed you?  I mean, I love everyone, equally until they give me a reason not to.  But I don’t love in the traditional sense, or the way I was taught I was supposed to.  It’s not that I don’t find men attractive, that’s not it at all, and I find some men incredibly attractive.  But I also find women to be the same way.  And I live in a world where until really recently, this was not approved, condoned, believed, etc.  In fact, my religion calls me an abomination.  And I can’t imagine having the heart that I have or the compassion I have or the empathy I have in my heart and yet be considered an abomination because of the sex of the person I choose to love.  I cannot wrap my hands around that?  I mean why do people care?  If I am not affecting them, why do they care?  Is it because they were told it was wrong?  And who made that choice?  God?  Because I don’t believe in a God that created us all the same.  I believe in the one who made us all different and who wanted to SEE IF WE COULD embrace one another’s differences and if we couldn't well, then that would be our own private hell.  But honestly, once I loved myself, I no longer cared what others thought, but I do care what you think.  I cannot stand to be disappointed or to disappoint.  So, I really can’t go on if I have in some way disappointed you. 

And because I am the type of person who NEEDS an answer, who needs confirmation and affirmation, and who likes to talk and break things down, I imagine he would be very vague and cryptic.

I imagine he would smile at me, and my God he has a beautiful smile, and he would say you already know the answer to this question.  You have always known the answer.  Thanks for the beer.  And tell your mother I said hello.

There was a you, before a him...

Before Brodie, (my current 4 legged child who is a Maltese,) there was Bailey, another Maltese.

Bailey Jane

Sadly she had a very short life span.  Without doing the crazy insane testing necessary to prove it, she was diagnosed with a collapsed trachea.  So when she ate too fast, or got excited, or had to travel, she would basically hyperventilate to the point where I wasn’t sure she would continue breathing.  This was a horrific time for me because I didn’t understand and I didn’t want her suffering and I also didn’t have the money to go somewhere to have the surgery that may or not open her airway.  She progressively got worse…when people would come to the house it would just completely almost kill her.  It was the Monday after Christmas that I had to make the hardest decision of my life.  Putting Bailey out of her misery created a misery in me that I didn’t know could exist.  If you have ever had to do this, then you know how bad it hurts.  On December 28^th, 2009, I sent a huge portion of my heart to heaven.  Bailey was the first pet I had ever had. 

It’s been over 3 years and for whatever reason out of nowhere a memory came over me the other day and it occurred to me that I had not thought of her in awhile.  I mean you would think Brodie would be a constant reminder, but not really.

Brodie James

I think what triggered it was I was looking for something the other day and I found HER.  Now before you freak out, I had her cremated so she can go with me ALWAYS, everywhere.  I hadn't gotten around to getting her on the shelf…she is there now, maybe it’s weird, but it’s comforting to me.  The thought of her was fleeting, until yesterday driving to work.  It hit me so hard that I could NOT REMEMBER HER…I couldn't picture her, or envision her.  When I tried, I kept conjuring up Brodie.  Yes, it would be terribly hard to tell them apart, but I still couldn't pull up a moment, a snapshot.  And I wondered is this normal?  Is this a pet thing?  How did I lose her memory?  Where did she go?  Why can’t I remember her? Is this just me, is it something else?  Anyway, it made me incredibly sad.

In case you didn't realize, both pets have been special needs children and no their issues were not necessarily specific to that breed…I just got lucky enough to be their mom.  And I am not saying that sarcastically…no one could love them like I did/do.

Mostly I am just wondering if it is normal for me to experience this phenomenon.  Not being able to conjure her memory.  The same day I was traveling to work and realized I couldn't remember her, I thought to myself, OK, I guess this is normal and I will have to deal with it, but thank God “her song” didn't come on the radio or I would have lost it.  Her song being the song that was playing when I alone, drove her, to the funeral home.  I will never forget the song because it could not have been more appropriate for the moment.  And to this day, if I hear it, I cry.  Well, the little shit must have wanted me to remember her because that very same day, on my way home from work, her song did in fact come on the radio…and I did cry. 

So to Bailey Jane I say, I am sorry my memory of you drifted.  I am sorry you are not still with me.  I am sorry that I didn't pay attention to the song, when you asked me not to let you go.  I had to let you go physically, I am sorry that happened mentally too.  I would say I am sorry that you didn't get to know your brother, but honestly had you been healthy neither would I have gotten to know him.  I selfishly got him to fill your void.  He’s very ornery.   And he has me wrapped around his paws.  He is the very thing I look most forward to seeing every single day.  And I thank you for sending your song to remind me that there was a you, before there was a him.  I hope you are having fun in heaven.  Give Grandma Rosie, Molly and Cousin Angie some kisses for me.