why do people complain so much???

the spirit house below seems like the taj majal of spirit houses to me. it does seem odd sometimes that even in death our grave can mark our value to society. was this person just well loved, financially supreme, of some specific importance in thier subculture? perhaps it was just a young soul? i have always loved walking around cemetaries. it's a curiousity. i guess how death is treated from culture to culture is a curiosity to me as well.
personally, i think i'd rather be cremated and have my ashes tossed in some amazing spot, like prince william sound or off the end of the ballfield of little omally, overlooking williwaw lakes. i've never liked bugs and so that doesn't sound very pleasnat nor does the idea of some archeology students digging me up and rumaging over me a few thousand years in the future. these little spirit houses are cute...maybe i could get that dream log cabin after all. hehe!

life doesn't always go as planned. personally i think that is the test in life. the unplanned part. i mean if life always went as planned what would anyone gain from this experience. luckily for me the life i assumed i'd have when i was young hasn't happened. could i boo hoo at the fact that i never married, never had kids, never got that huge house with the picket fence? yes i could and many do. i've come to understand that life happens and you have to adjust to it and find happiness in whatever path life takes you down. i learned a long time ago that you will be miserable waiting for stuff to happen...those lines that start with i'll be happy when...will always lead you to the path of most unhappiness. i'm also a firm believer in the adage, "be careful what you ask for, you may get it". god may get tired of you whining and give in to what you think you need.

in this nation we really have very little to whine and complain about and yet so many do. they are always upset by what they don't have and not grateful for what they have. i find it incredibly frustrating and i would assume any god would also find it frustrating. here we've been put in a country of freedom and opportunity and yet nothing is ever enough.

in my humble opinion i believe that we all had lessons to learn through our life experience. obviously we can't all learn all lessons in one life and we won't all learn the same lessons over a lifetime. i feel ways are created to help us grow in the areas we most needed to grow. we must be open to those opportunities. who am i to tell god how i should be blessed. i am blessed and it's up to me to be grateful for those gifts i'm given.

for me just going to work or reading international news stories is enough for me to feel grateful. a woman who confessed under duress to having an extarmarital affair is awaiting death by stoning as i write. they bury you to your chest and then batter you with small stones...not one big stone that will just kill you, no many little stones that will slowly kill you. that is just barbaric in my opinion, but there it is. women are raped and then put out as they have dishonored thier families by being raped. children with fistula's because they are married off at a young age and their bodies aren't developed enough to cope with pregnancies. girls who's bodies are maimed to ensure they will not have any sexual pleasure and therefore won't dishonor the family. bombs, floods, mudslides, wars...

i'm sorry to bitch about the whiners, but enough already. for once can't we all just think in terms of what we have and not what we lack.

poetry....

old poem was written when i took a train back to freshman year at utah state university in logan

Long Dark Ride

the nervousness has passed,

i feared the length of last,

i feel at ease,

i feel at peace,

the dark my favorite friend.

the train rolls on and on,

the noises form some rickety song,

most are asleep,

yet i'm awake,

i'll enjoy the dark set and scenes.

so many starts, so many hills,

yet i know the skies not filled,

so much space,

i can't conceive,

i'll only imagine and never see.

4/83

had a random thought then as well... Empty tracks, like empty minds are wasted many hours.

for todays poem...hmmm...pressures on...

My Path

did i choose,

which road to take,

in moving forward,

make a mistake.

or was it known,

which way i'd go,

the path laid out,

to help me grow.

the brush has always,

blocked my view,

and river crossings,

i've had a few.

at times i'd thought,

i'd lost the trail,

but circled back,

or slid or fell.

bruised and scratched,

i'm often sore,

but won't hinder,

my need to explore.

5 minute poetry...maybe i haven't lost my skill.