First off, I would like to point out that Mrs. Wishy-Washy needs to mind her spelling and grammar. We share a common tongue. Let us use it to its best effect, correctly, or at least something close. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we all enjoy these little outings in our writing, but no one enjoys a nag that can’t spell, or use capital letters when called for, or something close to correct grammar.
It is all fine, well, and good for Big Orange to write in his pigeon English, as we have learned to interpret over the years, but to have a bona fide teacher treat us so is unjust.
That being said let me say this. I love the old bitty, but when she labels posts with “Do as your told writers” instead of “Do as you are told writers”, or even “Do as you’re told writers”, it does not inspire creation. It inspires ire. I think we are all behind the exercise, but no one enjoys the stick more than the carrot. This is the end of my complaint list with this dear woman who only desires the best for all of us. I am a poor speller and can only understand the complexities of English as I speak it, so perhaps I have no right to speak, but if we need to step it up a notch, then perhaps so should she. Enough said.
On to the assignment.
My Allergies:
I was not quick to respond to this assignment, as I am a slow thinker. My first response to the question gave me pause. My response was uncomfortable and unsettling, but after further consideration, I realized that was part of the exercise.
I will leave the story of my childhood allergies out of this, as well as my acquired fear of needles. It has no real bearing on my answer.
As mentioned, I am a slow thinker. This has been a cross that I must bear for the rest of my life and I have come to terms with it. If I am late on any given assignment, it is because I’m thinking, but even I know that this is no real excuse. I must pass muster. I must.
What I am allergic to is senseless death, violence, and hate, as well as human suffering.
The symptoms include righteous anger, and uncontrollable crying jags, as well as a deep seated guilt at my powerlessness.
It is a big, big world out there, and as an adult I think that I should be a little more jaded to the whole thing by now, as we have only been doing this to each other for a couple of thousand years, but that doesn’t seem to lessen the blow.
For example: the Nazis. These folks felt like they were doing the world a favor in incorporating the whole of Europe, parts of Africa, as well as as much of Russia as they could grab. They thought that they were bringing the best thing since sliced bread, just like your local Amway representative, or your present Republican administration. They had it all figured out and they were going to deliver, even if it took a little persuasion, such as artillery and fire-bombing. They had the answers, and if it took shooting every tenth man in your village to convince you, so be it.
They just didn’t understand why the rest of the world wasn’t interested in their answers and treat them as liberators. Six million Jews, and sixteen million Russians, as well as countless Allied troops later, they just didn’t get it, and they never will.
I do not understand why these people have a following to this day, other than their fashion sense. You have to admit the tall boots are fetching, and it is tough to go wrong with grey.
I have spent thirty-five years on this little ball of clay and I realize that the most precious thing that we have is our health, our family and friends, and our time. You might get better from a sickness. You might make a new friend. But your time here, no one can ever give back. So why end someone else’s time because they don’t worship God like you do, or look like you, or want to live and breathe and try to do a little good, just like you.
When you crawl into your own little bed tonight, wherever you are, stop and think of the poor, the hungry, the ignorant, the oppressed, the grieving, the down-hearted, the homeless, the widowed and orphaned, the convicted, the hapless, and the hopeless, then lay your head to rest.
In the morning you will have thought of something good to do with your day.
This is what I am allergic to.
Doc.
I am fresh out of ideas. Everything I've written for the past week and a half has been crap and most of it I've scrapped. I am out of stories, jokes, and the general whatnot that you usually find here. The well has run dry.
