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  • wittyjules 12:41 am on May 25, 2012 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , "bad dreams", , "child care", , , "dow jones", , , , "health and fitness", , , , , , , "new movies", , , , "Small, , , , , advice, , , bedtimes, , , , career ( 2 ), , , , , , coupons, , , , , , , , , , , gas, , , help, , , , independent ( 2 ), , jobfind ( 2 ), , , , , , moods, motherhood, , , , , , , , , scam, scary, , , , , teach ( 2 ), teacher ( 2 ), teachers ( 2 ), technology, , , TV, unemployed ( 2 ), , , , , , ,   

    The thing about pop culture is… 

    You’re readily/easily/immediately irrelevant. 

    In this day and age of instant gratification and revolving door recycled trends, we don’t stand out as the most sophisticated or introspective group of people. In fact, it seems we’ve spent a couple generations on merely forgetting that we are people…distracting ourselves from life, rather than embracing it. If life truly imitates “art”, then we are a bunch of Sims, shopping around for temporary brands of happiness. Can I ask a question? Well, another one, anyway…

    What the fuck happened to simplicity???

    When did a sunrise become irrelevant? We ignore (quite without a murmur) the little bits of joy passed to us from our Creator. It’s not “cool” to sit outside and soak up the sunshine, feel the wind in our face, or gaze out at the few trees we haven’t demolished in the name of “progress”. And we never take the time to miss it, either. We distract ourselves from real life with a fake existence of wasting time and counting minutes. We have to spend money, impress other people, eek our way to justification in any way deemed “socially acceptable”.  You can’t just LIVE. No…that would put lots of sleazebag salesman/lawyer/ad monkey types out of a job. How atrocious. We are and must be a nation of consumers. Buy shit you don’t need, they beckon, because we say you might need it one day.

    It’s all a gimmick…bottom line is ratings…soulless, yuppie, 80’s bad guys in a jar, is what we have become (with a few rare gems of exception; relatively speaking). Look in the mirror and tell yourself the fucking truth. It sucks, but it’s the only way to fix us. 

    All of us.

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  • wittyjules 12:47 am on May 20, 2012 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , help, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,   

    You can just tell… 

    (my secrets)

    I can tell a lot about a person by looking at them. Not at what they wear, or how they talk, but at the subtleties that make up a human life. Their eyes, hands, and shoulders all tell their stories. And I am an avid reader. For example, in any person’s eyes, written underneath the current expression (worn just for the occasion), you will find a mind reaching out, to meet yours.

    A person’s hands tell you the story of his/her life: the roads traveled, if you will. Hands will tell you if they work hard, or if they’ve led a manicured existence. If they’ve fought their way to this point, or oozed past us on easy-going sidelines.

    Shoulders…well, I hate to ever see them slump. It absolutely breaks my heart to see another human being at his/her breaking point. A person’s shoulders tell you a great deal about self-worth. This is, perhaps, the most integral. It’s one’s opinion of oneself, put forth into the world, which determines one’s destiny within/of/among Wo/Mankind.

     
  • wittyjules 8:11 pm on April 23, 2012 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , "domestic violence, "helping hands", "kids songs", , , help, kids, love, outreach, shelters, violence   

    Slump? 

    I have been away for a bit; yes this is true. However, I don’t know that I would call it a “slump”, exactly. It’s definitely not Writers’ Block (that dreaded affliction), I have just been working on two separate projects very close to my heart. One is very fun to write and play with; the other…well, let’s just say the other simply must be written. It has been in my mind for so long, now (nearly six years and just about finished when I started, as I have a great deal of expertise in the area) it is absolutely pounding to get out. It’s something I feel has to be said, since it’s a subject  which most of the human populous prefers to ignore, despite the fact that its victims are many and its perpetrators the worst sort of cowards. Anyhow, it’s uncomfortable enough to be right up there with the giant taboos in proper dinner conversation (religion, politics, domestic violence; oh, my!).

    I have some girls to interview for the book, and some names to change (I think I’m actually just going to assign them numbers) before it’s ready to be sent out for rejection, but, ready it soon will be. I fear sometimes, that I am stretching myself too thin. I am a single, working mother, a writer, a teacher, an all-nighter, to say the least, and with all the turmoil, I am taking on the whole of the abusive, violent population as a defender of men (yes, them, too), women, and MOST IMPORTANTLY children, who are stuck in the Cycle. Forget getting my hands dirty; I’m jumping headfirst into the muddy, bloodied arena. 

    Jesus…what was I thinking. Oh well, as I said, it must be told, and I’m the one without psychobabble and jargon, to speak to those of us who couldn’t afford or weren’t given the education I self-inflicted between raw experience and good ol’ fashioned book learnin’. I guess I got off topic, but hey, rambling is probably just what my readers (thank you, for that) expect by now. 

    Good night. 

    -J-

     
  • wittyjules 12:02 am on October 15, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: "dnd", , another, , body, boyfriend, calendar, , day, , football, girlfriend, Halloween, help, hope, , , , left, let's, , lots, make, month, October, ove, piss, pull, push, , , send, sex, sexy, some, sometimes, , , , think, , , , , , , year   

    “Yeah, we only want a dream we conform to…” 

    This line is a borrowed smidgen of brilliance (Blue October, ‘Inner Glow’) and, an ironic one, if you’re a longtime fan who’s seen a recent concert, but, I’ll leave it at that. Do you ever find yourself wondering, as you watch TV; “how, in the hell, do these people get paid?”?

    I know I do.

    For me, there are two professions who prompt this query, more than any other. Football players and staff writers for our “favorite” shows. It seems, most of America is on a different page than I, where popular television is concerned. As far as the football players, I think what bothers me most is the issue of utterly wasted funds. Although I have a full grasp on the basic economics of Capitalism and prefer it to all the other ‘ism’s, it still pisses me off to see a guy who gets paid millions of dollars to catch a ball, dare complain, refuse to go to work, siting references to Slavery, as an excuse to not want to come out and play, today. Meanwhile, the dedicated people who teach our children, live paycheck to paycheck and buy supplies that enhance our kids’ lives in a permanent way, out of their very limited pockets; slaves to the system.

    In the vein of whoring words (and I’m mostly talking media arts, here, because real books are slowly being replaced with the cheap, easy, and quick, McDonald’s version of literary) I’m starting to lose my ideals, as the belief creeps in that, to get ahead, you’ve gotta know someone who already is. We’ve all got a story, and the bimbos blowing the set directors have got to be good, because the plots I’m seeing, these days are paper-thin and obscenely predictable.

    To see this third-grade science project, shoebox diorama of  supposed plot, headed up by a team of professional wordsluts irks me, to my core.  I loathe writers’ dialogue (it bothers me, more than anything; no one talks like we do, people. Wise up and Huckspeak, for christ’s sake). It’s worse than contrived; it’s both that and condescending. When I’m writing dialogue, I take into consideration my characters, not the people who demand a thoroughly “epic” moron to lead them through the lives they can’t fathom because, well, they don’t have the attention span. Bullphooey, I say. For writers who are paid to appeal to a certain demographic, all they think about is that idiot audience, thereby leaving their art behind, in favor of the dull, green paper, which seems to rule so many lives.

    Ahhh; the sell-outs…

    I’m not a veterinarian, or astronaut, or theoretical physicist, so, I’ve already sold out, in a way. I love my job, as a day care teacher, because those kids teach me as much as I may (I hope) teach them, but it wasn’t that idealistic, romantic, fantasy job of my youth. Writer: that was my ultimate goal, to get paid to do what I love above anything but, my daughter. Most of the population has had to sacrifice their childhood dreams and idealistic notions to be what we are…to pay the bills.

    To land your dream job and, subsequently, sacrifice that last love of purity and art, to appeal to the masses? Atrocious. To sit there and write a story about one sister who gets a face implant to look like the other sister and conspire to steal that sister’s boyfriend, just to make a buck? Retarded.

    These people (I hesitate to call them writers) are getting paid to be morons on paper. And we sit here, the meandering handful, plugging away, chasing a dream we can’t sell, all the while, wondering…

    “How the hell, do these assholes get paid?”…with the subsequent question: “Do I really want to, too (get paid for it, that is)?”

    I don’t know about you, fellow Writer/Reader, but I can’t plug my words into some sad, straight, generic Hollywood formula for what I should like and write and feel, but I don’t want to. I prefer to sound out, across the ties that bind us to the inanely polite, can’t live with myself, but I have to, society in which we find ourselves, to make you think; really think; about whom, and why, and what, you are.

    -J-

     
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