Honesty and Dreams

Some will say that honesty is the best policy. I'll call bull on that just based on the fact that not all people can be honest and it be, well, for the best. I, however, can be honest for the uncomfortably best. Yes, that's correct. Uncomfortably best. Inappropriate at times? Of course, but by who's standards? I have learned that living your life based on other people's standards will get you no where. Fast.

With that being said, as much as people attempt to bring me down, I continue moving forward leaving (be it physically or emotionally) people in the dust of my fearless adventures while trying to live the dream. I have dreams. I have goals. People are haters. I'm not so much a hater as a motivator. I love to see people succeed. I love to see my kids happy. I encourage that. I love to help others. I may not always have the financial means but I help in other ways. Does that make me a better person that you? Nope. I have lots of flaws. Lots of vices. I own them all.

I'm prejudice. Before you blow up and get all crazy on me, I think everyone is prejudice. I don't even like white people at times. I know Indians that don't like Indians, I know blacks that don't like blacks. There are good and bad people in every race and religion and trust me when I say, not all Christians are good. I was born and raised Baptist. Hmm...guess that makes me a hypocritical prejudicial white girl. It is what it is.


I'm living the dream. The American dream that consists of 2.5 kids, yet I'm not sure where the 1/2 child is, maybe it's buried in my soul which gives me the freedom to say what I feel and feel what I say. I'm working to live and at times feel like I live to work. People take from me and yet I still give. I give and expect nothing in return. People close to me know when I need them the most and step up.

So, excuse me while I think back to a simpler time. A time when we had 3 stations and it depended on how the antenna was directed as to what we could watch on television. A time when I recorded my favorite top 40 songs on a cassette tape during the weekend's top 40 program on the radio. Dreams were simpler then, like how I was going to meet Boy George or marry Simon Le Bon of Duran Duran. A time when I would work in my grandparent's garden. A time when my papaw saw Boy George and asked me, "What the hell is that?" Sometimes I long for those days when my mamaw would play her vinyl on her console turntable and then listen to the party line.

I read once that dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you. Maybe we should write our own books.