Hop's Thoughts

Grandiose boasting of one's willingness to do nothing is in fact, laziness. Even worse, is when it's not only a contractual requirement but a law. Feigning illness, while others truly suffer, makes one insufferable. Pointing to a lack of training, when the task is common sense. Blaming "seasoned" coworkers for not giving step-by-step tutorials. Disappearing when needed, admitting it, then actually attempting to justify. Being deceitful to come across as compliant. Lack of respect for others, in this case, appears to stem from a lack of self-respect. Animals know. If my cat and their dog both hate you, chances are I'm going to trust their instincts. Sickness, true illness, and death have surrounded me. Questions of morality have confused, even overwhelmed me. Not mine! As I become more and more comfortable with who I am, I see the world as a much darker place. Like others, money would help, but how? Is it really helping if I just walk away, knowing o

Tension. Snapping bracelets to remind myself of why I do what I do. Trying to be a better person makes one realize there is so much fault in this world. Best case scenario or worst case scenario, I prepared for the worst. We all did. Unseen resolution and an exhale like few I've felt. Much like the moments after a panic attack. A change in temperature, a calm. Stomach churning, released. You know if you've had one. A moment alone. Tears welled, much like Friday. Doubts about all will always be there. Walk in the door. Wish it were a home. The slightest embrace would have worked wonders. Now I'm back to being disrespected, interrupted, awoken, ignored. Still, it's better than before. And none of this was ever really about me.

Enter and leaving a room isn't something many think about. Maybe we should. Our entrance may upset some sense of balance, whether it be our interrupting a private conversation or simply by turning a light on. Our exit should leave the room no worse than it was before our entrance. You'd be surprised at how many people don't understand this simple concept. One of the things that always fascinates me is the idea that there are everyday things that we do that I have always thought were a given. Again, I am learning they are not. Not all people push chairs back in after they've sat in them, even in shared spaces. Not all people understand there are specific compartments in the dishwasher for plates, bowls, and glasses. Almost nobody seems to realize that little plastic thing is for holding wine glasses steady and even less understand that there's a reason there are six utensil slots: One for dinner forks, salad forks, tablespoons, teaspoons, Knives and other kitchen ute

Why do we have rules? Why do people post, even make others commit to obeying if they will never enforce them? Why do we set a higher standard to those who don't break rules, but a lesser standard to those who refuse or aren't smart enough to comply? Are rules, in their truest sense, a form of comfort or cowardice? Do those who make rules do it to convey power or to boost their ego. I am not talking about laws, but simply rules. I am not a disciplinarian in any form, but I command respect. Notice I did not write "demand," as who am I to force my will upon another. I gain respect by showing respect to those who the situation would imply I am superior. I do not ever want another human being to think I want to wield power over them and I am disgusted by those whose egos are so fragile., or they are simply afraid of any type of confrontation, to think (keyword: think) they wield power over me. Again, why do we have rules? Is it that people, who through their own words

Had I been more selfish in my earlier life, I would have things others have, that at times, I wish I had too. No, not material items; opportunity. I think it's the one thing I can call a fatal flaw and one, which most likely will not be fixed. I wish someone else could understand the sacrifice because the domino effect that was caused by my decision has hindered me for almost twenty years now. I would not change my decision if I knew. So there's that. I'll live with it, begrudgingly.

I keep saying free writing but keep having themes. I'll try to be different this time. I went into work ten minutes late this week. The latest I've been all year. One, two minutes, is usually my max. Coworkers joked that on-time is late for me. I wasn't even the latest. Oh yeah, and I did it on purpose. Not surprising, nothing was done in those ten minutes, except by the two people who were there last year. Interesting when people do nothing, then try to take control of the situation, once it's been set. Credit is so important for some. I am thinking of giving an anonymous gift. That's how important it is to me. I am so tired of the lack of accountability in the world, yet the desire, no demand for credit. The irony is lost on these insufferable souls. I'm tired after work. I wasn't tired after work last year. I'm exhausted. I'm doing the job of three people and missing out on why I do the job. I'm not the only one in this situation. The funny th

Jealousy. Envy. Covetousness. Not words to describe emotions I'm used to. Is it possible to not be jealous about someone's happiness, when you desire the same? Is it possible to not envy someone's situation, but admire it fully?. Is it possible to understand reality, accept it, and have covetousness not be present? The simple answer is yes, but isn't happiness for ourselves born out of us having something we feel others do not? It's not to say we can't all share similar situations, successes, and dreams, but are they really the same? No one person can have the exact job, exact marriage, exact kids, or exact life of another, so isn't impossible to fully appreciate another's life, even if it's simply the newness of it? Are we not more critical of those we care about if we truly care? Do we not want more for them than they expect for themselves? What if we admire two things, knowing one is impossible, one is probable, and the paradox of their ex

Whispering about the kids, the coworkers, life in general. Some are never happy with their own lives and seek either comfort in the lives of others, or go to great lengths to disrupt them. But kids? How does someone, at the age most would consider an adult, get pleasure from this? Maybe I simply don't understand. A person, always angered to the point it has even distorted their smile. Is it a smile, or a smirk. Is there plotting always, or do they sleep? I worry as I am the easiest target. I fit the profile(s). I care too much and that is my weakness. I protect those who take it for granted. I complain to deaf ears (always). I drive and I rant. I write and I rant. To no avail. Surrounded every moment by those who are so unhappy with their own lives, they strive to create chaos, without it ever affecting them. It works. For them. For me, the simple pleasure of quiet, solitude, the soft purr, and sighs, are disrupted each day by what they call drama, but as I've written before, t

I've not yet had my coffee, but this does not matter. I am not one to pretend that the flavors, aromas, and caffeine are some magical elixir. I simply like it, and like many, feel conditioned to drink it. I enjoy it as much after the sun has set as I do before it has risen. Swag has taken a few bites and then a rabbit caught his eye. I'm rooting for the rabbit. I can take care of his defeat. I think about people's fantasies and wonder if others fantasize about the things I do. I tend to think they do not. I'm starting to feel my age. Let me rephrase that. I'm starting to become more aware of my age. Not the creaks and cracks, but the reaction from others. Sir! I keep promising the next six months will be different, but I'll be writing about this come July, I'm sure of it, then again in August? Spare change my pay for my weekend. It's been a while since I've been in this position. Not much better off, but better. I'm trying to pay less attention t

Being a chameleon isn't always easy, or fun. Sometimes I forget what form I've taken. Money. Those who don't care about it can be overwhelmed when it comes their way. Mi Casa, Su Casa, but if you don't have respect for yourself, get out. Things would be different if we were all born at the same time. 48 years and I'm still a stranger, an outsider, an "other." Dirty dishes left in the sink. Misspellings. Bless you. I'm vegan and I appreciate you trying. Sincerely! Age creeps up on you. Sometimes you forget. Smiles. Jokes. Laughter. People are hurting. There is nothing random about bragging. Play All I Want For Christmas. OK! Who I am is not who I am.  Tiny Cabin. Solitude. Swag.

I've always known as someone who was funny, had a sense of humor, and who was fun to be around for a variety of reasons, but most of all, because I would make people laugh. I think I've lost that. I'm not saying I've lost all of it, but I've lost that as a trait due to circumstances. I think one of the problems I've encountered over the past few years is that my surroundings have so drastically changed and my sense of humor has not. I like wit, sarcasm, puns, and humorous metaphors, while most, I've learned, like simplistic, straightforward jokes. "Riddle me this," will never come from their mouths. It's always dawned on me that because of this, I laugh less, while those around me laugh more. People laughing at sitcoms, commercials, or silly videos on the internet, that I find mundane and childish. This saddens me, because, for years, I thought one of the perks of being an adult was to attain the ability to process more complex humor, along w