Hop's Thoughts

Or maybe it was a rap song. I deleted it, because of Lent. I can't even explain that, as I don't believe in anything even remotely resembling a religion or higher being. It was filled with anger. Anger pointed at those who look like me. Those who grew up in similar places as I. Those who once shared the same socioeconomic privilege I did. My anger isn't over my situation, but the privilege of others. The blindness that has affected us all. I see more praise for Kobe as a hero than Greta and Malala. I see praise for Trump as a family man, but critique of the single mom whose two jobs aren't enough. I see it daily. I see parents who don't know how their children treat women, unaware that their posts support their position. I see teachers who can't read, write, or maybe just edit. I see fathers so proud of their son's two goals, but ignoring that they'll grow up coveting scores. I'm 49, mocked for my choices, of protecting animals, reading books, and

I must admit, I am becoming obsessed. I've been reading about the psychology behind it, the science, the effects of culture, the internet, and the failed concept of the American Dream. Well, some of that is purely my experience with people, society, and my own feelings about them, it, and myself. But what does it say about someone who is so caught up in the persona(s) they've created, that they've lost touch with who they are or ever were? Is it a superior strength to ignore one's self or is it a grotesque failure? I myself, have battled long and hard to come to terms with the fact of who I am. Embracing my flaws was not only cathartic, but has given me an inner calm, knowing I owe no one else a facade. It sounds simple and many probably would nod in agreement should they ever read what I say, but the truth is, so very few I know are true to themselves. A simple explanation. I am vegan. I do not eat meat, dairy, or any product that derives from animals. I do not even

Over the past five-plus years, I've had to rely on others to carry some of the load on rent and bills. I've lived with my father, alone briefly, but assisted financially by my brother, then I've lived with a married gay couple, who then took on additional tenants, and now, with one female student, who is 12-13 years younger than I. I can't say any of these times have been enjoyable to the point I didn't covet solitude, but at times, simply another person around was a nice thing, especially when the couple's grandkids came to visit. I will not go into deep exploration and discussion on why or how I've learned these things, because I do not want this viewed as an attack or judgment. These are simply things I've learned, both as a witness, and a participant in these environments. We all display "love" every differently. Most people crave attention. Negative or positive matters not. Being alone is not a prerequisite for loneliness People who

I've stopped discussing politics. It is not that I do not care, but it's because it is February, the election is in November, and those who care to discuss have already made up their minds. For the Left, it is Bernie or Warren, Biden if it has to be, Buttigieg if he's our only choice, or maybe one of the others. Klobuchar is the only one with a plan, but they're liberals and a plan involves multiple topics, and it's too much to contemplate when you've chosen your cross to bear. The Right is happy. They have their old white man with old white man values and old white man sensibility. Trump is two things, he's arrogant and he's a misogynist. He's a conservative's dream. He's also racist, bigoted, not particularly smart, and says awful things without apologizing. In this way, he's everything America was in the 40s when we were "great." I will not move to Canada, nor will I be living in Mexico, Europe, Asia, Africa, or any other p

Most, if not all of us have been the benefactors of sacrifice in our lives. Most of these sacrifices we're made well aware of, often used a tool to teach us some lessons on respect. What they really teach us is guilt. Whether it be how hard our parents worked or the money they spent, the word sacrifice is used to increase the value on something others would have done anyway. As is mostly the case, what they are really trying to tell us is they have spent money on us. Money, had we not been born, they would have used for their own enjoyment. We, as adults, pass this message on to our children, and as the song says, the circle will be unbroken. Just like death and taxes, parents will use their lives' work to bring guilt upon their children for the purpose of respect and some misconstrued lesson in sacrifice. But, is it? I've found, the respect I've gained for others is when I see the sacrifices they take upon themselves, yet never mention. Whether it be to my benefit or

One of the reasons I have insomnia is that I ask myself questions constantly. These questions often cause an inner debate between what I hold as a belief and, at times, what I know to be true. That in itself is a philosophical riddle: Can one know something to be true and hold a strong feeling which goes against it? I'm not speaking about cognitive dissonance, but a strong belief which bucks knowledge? I guess one could point towards climate change as a good starting point. We know it's happening, yet so many are convinced it's not true, despite all the proof in the world being right before their eyes. This morning I awoke to the sounds of birds, the frigid air, ice and snow hanging from the trees and the gutters and wondered about the belief and faith in God. I then started thinking about my fellow man and wondered if religion, in all its various forms, is simply put in place to make up for a lack of faith in man. Is a belief in a god simply a reflection in our lack of b

Yesterday, I put my extremely mediocre art skills to work with my little kiddies. To be honest, my job was simply printing out a template, cutting one or two out to show the possibilities, then helping one, maybe two students cutting the folding double heart, so they could make cards for their parents. The kids' abilities far exceeded mine and the pride they took in the finish products was all the Valentine's Day gift I needed. It's all I'll ever need. As I've beaten the stuff  topic to death, I'll just say that Valentine's Day should simply be fun. If you're with someone, who isn't a child, and they simply want stuff, you're with the wrong person or they are with you for what you can give them materialistically, not emotionally. People like this tend to be users or in many cases, very unstable. Anyone who covets material items is never going to be happy with you, because they aren't satisfied with who they are. All this being said, let'

Aesthetic beauty is subjective. Unless, of course, we're speaking about Sophia Loren. That being said, true beauty is a rarity. As I get older, I think I finally understand the glow. The glow of a mother-to-be and the beauty she exudes. When we view a pregnant woman, we know two things to be true. She already has unconditional love for a being that has yet to be born and that the child growing inside her is pure and innocent. This is the truest beauty there is. This internal beauty is not commonplace among those who walk among us. Yet it is given as a compliment to many daily. Internal beauty is not as consistent as external beauty. As life takes time to chip away at external beauty, it works much more hastily on our internal beauty. The toll taken on our minds and bodies hardens us. Beauty, in most of our minds, reveals a natural softness, that when expressed, brings happiness and comfort to those who can bask in its glow. Stop for a second. How many people make you feel this wa

Naivety brought on by blinders does not mean that happiness is not real, it simply means that happiness has less chance of being increased and less chance of being damaged. In many ways, I envy such bliss. There's something about awareness that makes us covet more than we should, even when we know it's not necessary for our survival. Memories of things we've had, which have become harder to regain, make us long for them. Can one be content with what one has, while remembering the joy brought on by these memories? Luckily, memories fade. Some may think this is some cryptic passage about emotions, but it was brought on by something as simple as the lack of wine in a recent dinner. A household staple, from another time. I've also become aware of how people handle burdens brought on by others. Instead of plowing through and taking on more responsibility, they descend into some odd state of self-pity, doing less, achieving less, and bringing twice the burden onto those aro

I've often been made fun of for the way I walk, as I tend to walk on the balls of my feet. My walking style, my morning routine, and pretty much everything I do, is done quietly. The irony, of course, is that I'm viewed as vocal, maybe even a loudmouth. I like to upset the apple cart, but I don't like to wake the neighbors. I find that in what some may view as laziness or a lack of patience, I have grown to be efficient. When it comes to day-to-day routines, I've adapted to shared surroundings by, not only, completing tasks quickly and efficiently, but also quietly. I find I am not only trying to leave less of a footprint for the futire, but a much more quiet one now. It is not even a thought when in the context of my own actions, but comes into my mind, and occasionally others, when the exact opposite traits are demonstrated within my proximity. In most cases, I shrug it off as simply others' habits, at times, nothing more than a heavier foot or different gait. I