But how could one living in this world, aware of all that is transpiring around us, not slide into pure madness. In fact, to live in this world we all must be, to some degree, insane. To think we work tirelessly to put our money into institutions that without much penalty (I’m talking death penalty. Perhaps even a trip to the guillotine), or repercussion, mismanage it to the degree that all is lost. I take that back, the money that once sat safely in all those investment accounts was not lost; it went to those once trusted to manage it. And yes, it does push us closer to insanity knowing that those same people are now retired on their yachts, while those that worked for the money are now standing at the entrance of Wal-Mart, wishing us a good day.
That is a topic that has been covered at length by many, and those many have stated it better. But what about the sanity of eating foods that we know will, in the end, lead to our premature death. And I don’t mean the dying peaceful during our sleep kind of death. I mean the disease ridden kind of death. The not so pleasant kind. And yet, the companies poisoning the food supply know the domino effect of their products, and many of those consuming it know it too. Isn’t there insanity in that?
Having just arrived back home from one of those big discount stores mentioned above, I’m forced to contemplate how the plummeting economy, and the negligence of others, has pushed me to shop someplace I really don’t want to, solely to cut corners. And as I fill my cart I notice that many of the items stocking the shelves aren’t made by American hands. Foreign hands molded, crafted and produced the items. In fact, even when my checking account allows me to shop elsewhere, I’m hard pressed to find things made in this country. And yet, isn’t it a touch of insanity to believe that our country will grow and possibly prosper when all those American hands sit idle and unemployed.
The list goes on and on. And thus, my need to write this blog. Or as I like to view it, my journal of sanity with a strong dusting of insanity. In writing it, maybe I will release just enough of it from within me that I feel a bit better. Knowing I have this designated place, means there is a home for all the menacing, oftentimes toxic, thoughts twirling through my mind. Perhaps this is when I should interject the largest obstacle I face, at the moment, in keeping my sanity. I am two years into and $30,000 dollars in debt due to a very pathetic divorce. Pathetic not just because of the debt it’s caused, or the neglect and foot dragging of the courts, but mainly the blind eye that is turned regarding the unpaid child support owed to my children. At the time of this writing that amount has crept past $11 grand. In two years time my children’s father has parted with $163 of his money toward their support. If that is not a prime example of man’s inhumanity to man, then what is. But I am not alone with that particular struggle. But it is a struggle that has made me question humanity all the more. I would do anything for my children; it is hard for me to stomach the reality that not all parents feel the same. On the flip side – I also intend to journal the things that delight me, intrigue me, and make me believe in mankind.
As a writer, my written words come from a very deep place within me. A place that shakes the very foundation it also created. So bear with me as I create and shake all the thoughts that rest within my mind.
Sane
