Hop's Thoughts

As I child, I never thought much about horses. Horses, ponies, and other four-legged animals humans choose to ride for sport or leisure were always "girl" animals. My one riding attempt, pushed by my mother, was about as horrible as one could imagine, Sharing a saddle looks good in movies, but it's a fallacy. In my older years, gambling was the closest I had ever come to loving these animals. This too passed with my embracing veganism. Still, horse appreciation remained a bit of a mystery to me. The other morning, with storms approaching and the grey tones hovering above, mirroring my internal life, I stood in the dew-soaked grass and watched. One horse, then two, chewing on whatever nourishment was below them, stomped, snarled, snorted, and grunted, their legs often tapping, while tails swung, like some hyper-speed metronome, pulling me in. This trance lasted five, maybe six minutes. They, oblivious to my existence and me, completely enthralled by theirs. I had worries a

With the current state of new music, my car's radio is on rarely, the days of stereos in every home is long gone, and I'm too much an observer to plug ear-buds into my skull. Lately, and not often, I turn on music while on my laptop, either while chatting with friends, reading up on the interest of the day, or simply wasting time. Background music has never been my thing. I like being a participant; whatever that means. I've also noticed that most of the music I've been listening to are from movies, often in key scenes within the context of the film. Again, not sure what that means. Maybe I'm waiting for the director to call cut on this B-movie I call life. My Favourite Game - The Cardigans Not Pretty Enough - Kasey Chambers Minor Swing - Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli Becomes the Color - Emily Wells I'd Rather Go Blind - Etta James Colours - Eloise Laurence I Feel It All - Feist Wicked Game - London Grammar Baby's On Fire - Die Antwoord

Many of our strengths, I know mine, are weaknesses when put into the real world. I have an acute sense of smell, which can cause many issues, especially when others cannot detect what I find pleasurable, but more likely, offensive. While not photographic, I have a very good memory, with minor details of minor events, sometimes leaving a mich more lasting impression than the event itself. Finally, and this is where I get myself in trouble, often spending hours, even multiple nights dwelling on, I am painfully observant to human behavior. I notice single words people choose to use, whether in the context of a conversation or within entire paragraphs. Words that change what they desire into how they truly feel. Maybe it all began when I started playing poker, but reading the room is something I've long been able to do. To be frank, I wish I couldn't. It pains me. Whether it be a moment, a day, or the desired culture, setting the tone is something we all do every day. For many of

I have not always been loyal. I've tried, but sometimes selfishness or other factors have crept into my life. Those instances, when I lacked loyalty are some of my biggest regrets. In this world, I believe we have control of very few things. Honesty, loyalty, and accountability are the three I believe we control completely. Should we add compassion and virtue, we may be recognized as people with integrity, These values are important to me. Much more so than when I was in my youth. The shame of it all is that these values, while common individually, are quite rare collectively. While I do not espouse to being perfect or righteous, I do try to be better every day. I do this, not only for my own state, but for those I surround myself. What has troubled me as of late, even among those I like, is it is not only taken for granted, but rarely, if ever, reciprocated. Life in today's society, in our world, should always be about reciprocation of words and actions. They mustn't be eq

I just wrote one of the longest blogs I've ever written. It started with pointed criticism of myself, my choice of words, and an ill-advised topic, while not recognizing my environment. I then went on to speak about the problem of toxic masculinity, the history of it, why it is so relevant and pervasive today, and the choice of the words to describe it. I then went into words in general, their overuse, misuse, and the fact that those who use them to describe others or situations are usually the ones who should be looking at themselves first. I then read it, edited, read it again, something I don't normally do, then posted it. Before sharing it with social media, I had a change of heart and deleted it. It was an act of self-preservation. Something I am not at all very good at. I tend to do what is right or just, but in this situation, I looked at what I had to gain, other than to vent, and what I could lose. When you have little, losing a lot tends to weigh heavily. Maybe this i

Anyone who knows me, either personally or on social media, know that I was recently suspended from Twitter for a full week for calling Tomi Lahren a cunt. I was previously suspended for one day for calling her white trash. The irony, of course, is that Lahren and her cultish following have embraced the term "snowflakes" for anyone they deem to be weak or fragile, not able to handle criticism, or as they refer to it as truths.  In my time back, there have been three mass shootings, and the race-baiting, blonde xenophobe has taken to calling out everyone who questions American citizens' rights to be locked and loaded at all times. She's also thrown out that the reason is that there isn't enough prayer in school. Prayer and Guns. Nothing says modern-day America for inbred, ignorant white people than the Bible and an AR-15. Somehow, in our warped society, the ownership of military-grade weaponry is viewed, as Lahren put it, as a human right. Not a constitutional or

The first night in a new home. A shared existence, but not this night. My roommate, and her dog, are off on a trip. The timing was weird, I admit. I lost a week, or gained a week, well lost a week's rent either her or there. The bed was soft. Too soft? No curtain, a bright light, an anxious cat. At least he slept on the bed, not under it, or quite literally, in it. New noises, but much thicker walls. A howl of a dog, but no snoring. A different room, with new shadows to keep me company. A failed attempt to leap onto the windowsill. The window is now opened more, and he is perched. He rejoins me, but only briefly. The sounds of the garbage truck at 2:18 AM instead of 5:05 or later. A longer, louder visit than that which I am accustomed to. Then a moment of relaxation. His tail stops smacking my foot, that familiar sigh, followed by a soothing purr. We both drift off. That hour, maybe it was two,  feels like an eternity. My eyes open to his face, perched in front of me. Has he necess

Last night, before I said goodnight to Swag, he was curled up next to m. Allowing me to pet his back, scratch under his chin and behind his ears for a while, he then grew bored, rose, and repositioned himself towards the other end of the bed. Looking at me, he let out a sigh, then lowered his head onto his paws and closed his eyes. I continued to speak to him, giving him assurances and reminding him that this would be his last night on this bed, inside this room, and in the house, we've called home for seventeen months. He, much more relaxed than I, did not open his eyes again until I woke in the middle of the night. As I stared into the darkness, my worries were nearly all for him. A new home, a brand new world for him, and a new human to interact with. Oh, and did I mention a large dog? This morning he woke and he's now outside. His routine unchanged, for now. Tomorrow will be different and I'm praying for rain. A full week without the human and the dog will give him a

I often say I hate routine, despite having a very specific morning routine, each and every morning. It varies in the winter, but it is, essentially only different in the which side of a door I sit, drink my coffee, open my laptop, and begin my day. I hate change for the sake of change, but I also hate plans. A few days from now, I will be sleeping in a different bed for the first time in two-plus years. I will be sharing a space with someone I've only met once, although, by Monday, it will be three times. She will then take off on a vacation, leaving me alone, in a strange new place, with new neighbors, minutes from what I know and what has been my home for thirty-one months. I am ready, excited, and if truth be told, a little nervous, but not for me. I know people get the sense I love my cat, but they don't understand how much he has meant to me. He may, if we're being truthful, be the reason I'm here, not in this singular spot, but merely existing. He was there for