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Acceptance and Resignation, stronger than a hammer but not weaker than the nail or…Sometimes they come back.

Mom, my mom, would often quote a verse to me during my moments of frustration intolerance with life not going according to my plan.

“Accept the things you cannot change…”412

Oh lordy how those words bugged the crap out of me.

This is MY life, MY destiny, MY footprint on existing, MY, MY, and definitely MY!

I refused to accept, concede to, acknowledge or resign to her advice. Everything, absolutely everything can be changed with perseverance, determination and straight up ghetto refusal.

Naw man. Everything.

I have the power and ability to change, the perseverance to guide and shape while steering the helm of the wheel, the sole master of my world.

This is MY life, MY destiny, MY footprint on existing, MY, MY, and definitely MY!

Well…

HIM, yes, the one Noah built an ark for, the same one Moses climbed the mountain for and also the one whom Mary became pregnant for, put me in my place, disrupted my inner peace, laid down the law and let me know destiny belongs to no one but HIM.The Habby and the Mommy

Pancreatic cancer latched on to my mom and won’t let go.

 Like a soft whisper, a gentle wind caressing a cheek,

A touch of cotton soaked in cold witch hazel against the face on a hot summer day,

Ice cream in a cone, silky like velvet, on the tongue

Satisfying that sweet tooth…

Pancreatic cancer latched on to my mom and won’t let go.

I’ve cried the same thousand tears that bent my lashes inward when I cried for Pi Patel.

Pi Patel passed into shadow…suddenly. No whisper no warning. No ice cream or witch hazel on a hot summer day.   imagejpeg_2 (3)

My mom is dying…

slowly in front of my being that longs to have her like I did back in the day when I was a baby and she was my mother taking care of me and working so hard to support a family that society deemed should be supported by a man but family’s man had long gone back to his country to find solace, peace and acceptance that didn’t exist  in the new world he hoped to call home.

Enough.

Love my dad but this isn’t about him.

It’s about my mom

She thought at first it was a return of the stage 4 colon cancer of the past, because sometimes they come back.  The boys and mom 019

Which it did.

In another form, in another place

where it intends to stay

till death do us part.

Mom ACCEPTS the cancer.

Mom ACCEPTS the diagnosis.

Mom ACCEPTS

And RESIGNS to let what will be, be.

And I resign to accept there are things that cannot be changed.

I so love you mom, my mom!      CCI05102014_0000

005       30

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St. Jude or Running a Marathon to Raise Donations…

Hello Followers,

If you remember, last year I trained like a Banshee to run in the Brooklyn Rock n Roll Half Marathon. My first half and my intro in fundraising for St Jude.

I had hoped to do the same for 2018 but unfortunately the Brooklyn Rock n Roll Half Marathon was cancelled!!!

Ok. What to do now?   13466516_10209962306080030_2975883067454432056_n

Tie St Jude into my first ever TCS NYC Marathon!!!!

Long runs and tapering have begun along with the sweat and tears of wtheck am I doing?

I’m gonna run a marathon and with the help of the one and only HIM (yes the Episcopalian in me is speaking), I’ll make my way across that finish line.

I remembered griping about that ‘registration fee’ for the TCS Marathon and although I knew it was coming, it was hard to lay out the money when it was due. That being said, I would like to raise the entry fee (plus a bit more) for St Jude Hospital. 33020104_10216735804493257_7361619764055113728_n

My initial modest goal of $300 was reached and surpassed today by two very generous co workers! Thank you Peeps! Although the goal was reached, I’d like to continue to raise funds until November 4th- the day of the Marathon! I would gladly appreciate any amount donated, no matter how big or small  for I believe in the work this hospital does.

Here are some of their highlights:

  • Families never receive a bill from St. Jude for treatment, travel, housing or food — because all a family should worry about is helping their child live.
  • Treatments invented at St. Jude have helped push the overall childhood cancer survival rate from 20% to more than 80% since it opened more than 50 years ago. St. Jude is working to drive the overall survival rate for childhood cancer to 90%, and they won’t stop until no child dies from cancer.

Please donate and help me give a bit back to St Jude in appreciation for being a wonderful support through my first 2018 Brooklyn Rock n Roll Half Marathon and most importantly for the kids and their families! 16864938_10212549332474073_1262931473686024038_n

Please use this link for donations:  http://fundraising.stjude.org/site/TR?px=4395453&pg=personal&fr_id=90465

FUNDRAISING.STJUDE.ORG

Sometimes…or have a lot of time on hand.

 

‘Sometimes you need bad things to happen to inspire you to change and grow’

Sometimes…

Growth has no end or beginning.  Image result for sometimes

Sometimes…

Change is constant with no restrictions, boundaries or cut offs.

Sometimes…

Inspiration comes from places least expected.

Sometimes…

Things happen for a reason.

Sometimes…

There’s no logic to why things happen.

Image result for sometimesSometimes…

Bad things happen to good people.

Sometimes…

Bad things happen to bad people.

Sometimes…

Good things happen to good people.

Sometimes…

Nothing happens at all to anyone.    Image result for images of sometimes

Sometimes…

The way to win a battle is to walk away.

Sometimes…

Walking away leads to the battle.

Sometimes…

Dark, rainy grey clouds bring a smile.

Sometimes…

White cotton candied clouds make you sick.

Sometimes…

Silence is golden.

Sometimes…

Screaming profanities at high volume is bliss.

Sometimes…

Bliss.

Sometimes…

Disruption.

Sometimes    

Image result for images of sometimes

 

“I may not be rich…but I have GOD”

Work,  or the place I make money to sit in front of a desk, banging away at computer keys is not the place to be right now.

Diversity, cultural sensitivity, pay inequality, upward mobility-SQUASHED-like a bug meeting it’s maker in a leather shoe.

The people of colour are the worker bees.  Image result for worker bees

 

 

 

 

The people who have no colour are management.

Image result for white people

The company we work for is plump and tasty on the outside with brand colours sashaying in the wind of possible funders, grants and donations.

The company we work for is sour, vinegar and rot on the inside sashaying our token employees in the wind of possible funders, grants and donations.

The company we believe in doesn’t give a crap about us.

Thirty five hour work weeks are just illusions on paper, for the thirty five is actually forty five and beyound.

Overtime hours only exists in hours we hope will be collected and applied to pseudo vacation time instead of paying actual overtime hours. O/T is too expensive for the worker bees and management must preserve their own salaries.

So, the worker bees press forward, out of ignorance, desperation, some content with their salaries while others strive forward through low moral, depression, separation, divorce, as management continues to sit on their thrones of comfort, affordability and feeling so blessed and thankful that their salaries afford them lavish vacations around the world while growing so fat of the backs of the worker bees.

“I may not be rich, but I have GOD” Image result for GOD

He will set things right

right the wrongs

wrong the rights

Send a flood or fire to wash and burn the world of dirt, greed, and those who have everything while those who have nothing coexist right beside them.

-Enough. I am so tired.

I may not be rich…but I have GOD!

Smiling faces…or Reality Bites

I work with them and so do you…there’s no getting around it, no putting it on the side…you know who they are.  Image result for smiling faces

They smile in your face, play the extrovert full of empathy that’s really apathy meanwhile you see the fakeness, the fake emotions while they shove you under the bus.

“Play the game” close confidents whisper in your ear. Nod your head, say yes and pamper their whimsical hysterical demands. Hey, they make more than you so suck it up.

When the time comes when enough is enough, do you go postal, cursing with eloquent profanity, blazing high pitched and on target as you sashay out the door?

Or do you smile, weakly, tuck the tail up where the sun can’t shine, walk backwards out the door, bowing and saying, “Oh so sorry. Me quit”.

Who has the answers to dealing with those ‘smiling faces’ 35 plus hours a week?

I don’t.

Actually, I do.   Image result for smiling faces

From those packs of smiling hyenas there are those who shine through.

They are sincere…

They are supportive…

They are encouraging…

They are…

the coworkers you love to work with!

But always remember:

Smiling faces sometime pretend to by your friend

Work, werk, Work

I work on the weekends without a lunch break

Werk   Image result for ball and chain

I work from the moment I get up till I close my eyes at night

Werk

I don’t get overtime hours but at times you’d think I do

Work

I work for something I believe in while others don’t

Work    Image result for working for something you believe in

My salary does not correspond to the work I do

Work

Actually,  my salary is the lowest on the workplace totem pole

Work.

 

Education titles don’t mean a thang if you don’t have that kiss ass swing

Work

Still waiting on the LORD to buy me that Mercedes benz

Werk     Image result for working on the chain gang

I guess I’ll keep working till I’m in my grave

Work

Or from working, I’ll end up in my grave

Work

 

 

*** pictures from the World Wide Web

*pictures are not representative of the work I do BUT in my mind-Hell yeah.

Running in the rain…or Bling desperation

So…

I ran a half marathon-13.1 miles on Saturday.

I ran it on the mean streets, oops, the gentrified streets of Brooklyn.

The race started on the sidewalk of the cosmetically altered Botox on concrete gone wrong Brooklyn Museum and ended on the newly reinstalled wood weather treated planks of the boardwalk in the now Russian enclave of Coney Island.

So…

It was raining.

Not the drizzly refreshing kinda rain but the giant pouring rain drops slapping your head and oozing down your face kinda rain. The drizzly refreshing came towards the end but as soon as I crossed that finish line the slapping drops returned! My glorious finish was photographed in the arms of Peter Ciaccia, president of NYRR running events and a big supporter of those who are referred to as the ‘back of the packers’. In other words, back of the packers are the ones who finish the race long after the after post-race party has ended and the disgruntled looks from volunteers who had been out in the elements since 4am want to go home to a hot shower but are stuck out there waiting for your ass to cross the line, so they can break it down and cart the shit back to storage and finally…go home. 60938147_race_0.4027700976311832.display

So…

My first time running in the rain.

A brutal lesson in feeling downright accomplished at making it through the course then feeling soaking wet cold and miserable enough to forgo that Nathan’s hot dog and beer. All week leading up to running the half visions of hotdogs in buns slathered in sauerkraut and mustard danced in my head. Twirling round and round the hotdogs danced moving towards my mouth where slowly, they would be decimated, eaten and conquered.

So…

The vision of hot dogs was fleeting.

It was replaced by my yearning to get my soaking, wet butt home to stay under a hot shower until eternity or the hot water heater gave out.

So…

I ate pizza.

It wasn’t the same satisfaction of eating a dancing hot dog but it had to do. Two slices, plain, nothing fancy and it landed in my gut with a thud and stayed for two days. 33020104_10216735804493257_7361619764055113728_n

So much for running in the rain…or Bling desperation.

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