Teh Darkness

Sometimes people know you.  Not most of the time.  Most of the time, people look at your actions and try to learn about you from what those actions would mean if they committed them.

Sometimes people hate you.  Not most of the time.  Most of the time they just hate how they feel when they take their fucked up perspective of you and consider their own miserable lives.

Sometimes people attack you.  Not most of the time.  Most of the time it is a misguided attempt at self-defense or survival.

I don't wish ill of anyone.  I've been in a bad place for the last couple of weeks trying to overcome an extremely difficult circumstance.

This is the reason I was considering suspending the blog posts last week.

There is a Chinese restaurant on Leavenworth.  It is called Three Happiness.  I asked them once what the name meant.  They told me.  I'm at Two Happiness right now.  Not a restaurant.  A level.

I haven't been this upset for many years.  If there's a silver lining, it's that being this upset reminds me of how I always felt when I was young.  Sure, I was extremely unhappy, but at least I was young!  

Not like now, where I'm old.  My family is wonderful, by the way.  No problems there.  I'll leave the Chinese restaurant to explain the rest to you.

So since you didn't bargain for this kind of post, I will leave you with a joke.

It is a joke my dad started to tell me once when I was too young to hear it.  Actually, he had no intention of telling me the joke.  He just started telling the joke so my mom would hear and scold him.  Ah, what a prankster, that dad.  Anyway, here's the joke:

There was this kid who had this one hand that was crippled up.  Crippled up real bad ...

"Fred!"

"I'm just kidding Carol, I wouldn't tell him that joke."

Then whispering to me, "When you're older."

So I never actually heard the joke.  Sorry.  Fine, I'll call him.  Hang on.

~~

I was actually a little surprised he remembered.  Not only the joke, but the exact incident.  He was surprised I remembered since I had no whole joke to go with it.  

"how do you remember that?" he asked.  

"Well, I've just always wondered what it was."

Also, I was wrong.  He fully intended on telling me the joke.  Mom just stopped him.

"So one night as the boy with the crippled hand went to bed, he got down on his knees and said, Dear Lord.  Please make my one hand like my other one."

Luke 6:6-10 (director's cut, alternate hilarious ending)

... and sceeeeeeeeeene.