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The Mountain Dragon Man (2)

If we were to categorize life logically, we human beings have approximately 100 years to do everything we ever dreamed of. If we break that down into decades, we’d have ten of them. If each decade is how you judged yourself, looking at your progress from one to the next, perhaps you would see for yourself how crucial it is to keep putting one foot in front of the other — even if it’s only baby steps.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. – Lao Tzu, from Medium.

(Thanks, fellow blogger, for this amazing visual… or whoever made it.)

If we never, ever take that first step, we will stagnate. We will die. Stagnation is death, growth is life. Even people who don’t intend to grow do end up growing. Overlay your life now to the one you had ten years ago. If you are a teenager now, you were in the single digits then. If you are forty now, you were thirty then… how have you changed? Did you mean to change that way? Or did it just happen?

Chances are, your growth just happened. To change for the better on purpose means you have to dream up who you would be if you were the ideal human being (in your perception.) Then, you would have to isolate one particular thing you like about that future you and start trying to build the habit of doing it today. That’s what I did, because I’m an autistic freak that lives life backwards. (Wait, did you do it, too? WOW! I’m not the only one! She does a little dance.)

Now, I know what you’re thinking, at least some of you. “I thought I’d be a millionaire by now!” Well, just because it’s not true yet doesn’t mean it will never be true. Millionaires — especially self-made ones — work hard every day. They have to focus on saving money, first and foremost, or the bank account will never grow. How many of you want to be a millionaire and don’t save? Well, that’s step one, friend! Start today. Can you set back $5 this pay check? Can you build up to half your pay check? (You might need to find a new career to do that, it depends ultimately on your living circumstances, y’know?)

I remember going camping with a fellow who was bragging about how his Edward Jones account crested one million and how he absolutely needed at least twice that to retire. Really? What the fuck? What are you doing with all that fucking money? Throwing it away. Literally. That’s the answer.

“I don’t feel like eating these leftovers.” Trash. “I want this brand because the brand is something I recognize. I’ve never even tried the store brand and I never will!” (Even though it’s the same fucking product, nine times out of ten, with a different label.) Trash. “Oh. My. God! I got blood on my favorite jeans? I HAVE TO THROW IT AWAY.” No, you don’t, woman. All you have to do is soak it in cold water until the blood is hydrated again, then rinse it until the water runs clear. Wash it in cold water over and over again until it disappears. Inside-out is best. (You didn’t know you could save them, did you?) “I lost a button! My $90.00 shirt has to go in the garbage.” First of all, paying a tailor or seamstress to fix that shirt is significantly less than $90.00 if you’re just too fucking lazy to look up how to put a button on your fucking clothes on YouTube and buy a Dollar Tree sewing kit. (You can get better, but why, since you’re obviously too lazy to sew to begin with.) “The liquid in the sour cream has separated, time to toss it!” First of all, sour cream is probably half the reason you’re not at your silhouette goal, if you struggle, and secondly, just stir the goddamn thing back together. Unless you see fuzz, it’s fine. (As long as it was properly refrigerated since the moment you bought it, anyway.) “I’ll buy a cheapo desk and when it falls apart, I’ll just get another one.” Or you can find furniture on the road side and take it home for FREE! “I’ll go to the bar to buy booze.” Way cheaper to admit you have a problem and see a therapist, firstly, but secondly, that bottle of booze probably costs less than two or three glasses of it at the bar, the restaurant, the pub, whatever. Drinking, in America, is problematic because we simply bury all our problems in our escapism (be it junk food and binge eating, binge drinking, video gaming, reading incessantly, binge watching Netflix/Hulu/whatever it is the kids are watching these days.) “I’ve got to have a private library IN MY HOUSE.” Maybe for your absolute favorite books you’ll read at least one more time, or the movie you can’t live without. [I’m so guilty of this one, by the way. People give me shit all the time because I help them and all they’ve got is movies and video games… It’s how they pay me, I guess.]

Essentially, you don’t see it as a resource. Food is a resource. Entertainment is a resource. You know, I sat down and put together a list of every streaming service I could think of. The price point on it came down to something like $350 a month. What the fuck are you thinking? Are you watching those constantly? Pick one, binge, quit, pick another, binge, quit! Voila. You spend only one service’s subscription value per month. Got kids? TELL THEM ALL ABOUT HOW TV USED TO BE BEFORE ON-DEMAND.

Stop giving these little brats everything you wished you had as a kid. It’s making them into little gremlins. (Have they even seen that movie?) You know what I grew up with in my single digit years? VHS tapes. And did you forget about Beta-Maxx??? I sure haven’t. I’m still ashamed about accidentally destroying the last one this household ever had… It started eating the tape and then got shut again once this was discovered and then my parents declared it DOA.

Damn that sucked. All those movies, GONE! Just stupid reruns day in and day out of Daphne and Fred making eyes at each other, the “perfect” couple. Leaving us to imagine Shaggy and Velma having something on the D/L, teaching all Velmas everywhere to settle for the scaredy cat stoner boy. And his dog. Although, I think Scooby was a great character, in general. #ILikedTheDog

You know what else that stupid show taught kids? Only the Freds of the world were brave, because they were the good-looking ones as wide as football stars. Only the Daphnes of the world can get the football stars. And maybe somewhere that was true, but do you know how much vanity went into Scooby Doo? Too much, that’s what.

Why didn’t Velma ever have a wardrobe change? Or any of them, really. Except, of course, Daphne. Fred has twice as many shirts as Shaggy, hands down.

Anyway, I digress. [Squirrel!]

What I’m trying to tell you is that you throw away money left and right without realizing it. My phone plan is a whopping $8.00 per month. That’s no typo. Eight dollars. It’s called NO DATA. (Tello.) (You’re welcome.)

Do you need a home phone when you have a cell phone? Especially if it’s through the Cable company and when the power goes out, so does your phone service? Do you really need Cable TV if you’re subscribed to Hulu/Netflix/Etc? Do you really need the best cable package? Does everything have to be on-demand? Have you stepped foot into a library lately? I have.

Did you know you can now rent DVDs from the library, since there are no more Blockbusters out there? Maybe it’s not exactly related, but still. New ones, too. I rented The Proposal. Then I promptly returned it because I was not in the mood to watch a movie (and my DVD player broke.) Did you know you can get periodicals from the library? Heck, my library even has a 3D printer. How fucking cool is that shit? Not to mention I checked out a ton of books to explore the religions of the world, drawing manga style, and even The Holy Bible. Not that THB is on my top list of things worthy of reading. In fact, it’s next to last.

So now you are aware of how you throw money away, at least some of the time. Next, we have to examine your refrigerator and your pantry. Is anything out of date? Why did you let it go to waste, you asshole? Don’t you know people are starving out there and you can abandon it in the public parks for the homeless long before it expires? Stop murdering things by hoarding food to yourself. Did you throw away the remnants of a beef roast? Did your chicken noodle soup noodle get too soggy and you threw it away? (Pro tip: make the noodles separately, combine at the time you’re going to eat it. You’re WELCOME.) Challenge yourself to stretch your dollar by reducing your food waste. That’s all I’m sayin’ folks.

(You’re the one who wanted to be a millionaire!)

(Oh wait, there are other people here, too.)


(Where was I?)

I’m on a quest for true love. I’m starting to think it doesn’t exist anymore. You know why? Supposedly, God is letting me preview the personalities of a lot of different guys. From the mall hottie that checked his hair after walking past me (yo, dude, you’re a FOX) to the diligent guy stocking the produce section to the chefs in the deli. Every single one of them lets me down.

I didn’t think I was impossible to please. God does it. He’s not perfect, either. Excuse me, She. She’s gender fluid and changes based on her mood, thank you very much. So here she is, guiding me around town. I used to just eyeball whatever was on the shelves without paying attention to anyone around me. Now? Now I keep looking at people in stores. It’s horrible, you know that? I even made eye contact with some of them.

And then I had to go through “is he flirting? am I flirting? Do I want to be flirting?” And then it’s a game, God says, “Get in the car, babe, we’re gonna go see Bob.” Bob’s the code name for this hottie in the grocery store deli. Oh my, is he a looker! (Sansara, quit it, we’re trying to have a serious conversation. You flirt too much, get outta here!) (Crystal, I had a point.) (Okay, make it fast.)

Bob is a handsome man. Crystal is a beautiful woman. Crystal does not think Bob would ever like her. EVER. Never, ever. Not even covered in whipped cream with a cherry on top. (DOWN, BOYS.)

Do you see the issue?

She’s a beauty, y’all. Crystal is full stop magically delicious to the eyes, ears, and mind. Yet, she’s convinced she can never make it with a pretty man. Not ever, no matter which pretty man it is. No matter if he checked his hair after he walked by. (Here’s looking at you, Mr. Tattoo Man.)

She’s gorgeous! There is nothing wrong with her other than gay boys thinking they’re straight because they find stick figure women alluring. This is hurting all your brains, yo.

Okay, I said my piece, Crystal. You can have the floor again.

Go on, Sansara. I’m intrigued. I thought you were simply going to be lascivious and drool all over the boys, but I see now you have a real point to make. (Sorry if I’m offending you, but our track record of conversation is kind of direly pointed that direction at all times.)

Okay, I concede that, Crystal, but there’s a reason.

What reason is that, Sansara?

I’m INSANE! I’m literally boy crazy! And why? Because I’m actually the mentality of a boy dressed backwards. These boys adore you and won’t even tell you because you are intimidatingly beautiful. They all think about you like I talk about them to you.

When did that happen? Intimidatingly beautiful? I do not understand. I was always an ugly duckling, Sansara. I was bullied throughout school over it… I got the memo. I’m fat and that makes me unlovable. Not a single boy ever asked me out. I’ve never held hands and had an organic relationship grow from nothing. I never went to a dance with a guy, it was always a gal pal. In fact, nobody ever gave me compliments, ever, unless it was a teacher and I figure they’re paid to be nice to students. Sure, they might have their favorites, and I tried to put it all into perspective over and over again, but still I’m drawing a blank as to when this “beautiful” thing happened. Did I go into a cocoon and emerge a butterfly without realizing there was a cocoon? Did everyone else put their glasses on? Why is it now I’m “stunning” but I look almost exactly the same as I did all throughout high school? Sure, minor things have changed, but so what. I was never accepted in high school, weighing in around 200 pounds (or more) the whole time. So why now?

Well, for starters, most of them had their metabolism fail them, Sansara offered sweetly. And for another thing, you were trending well ahead of your time. The clothes you wore as a kid are finally cool. And, you know, you started keeping your hair differently instead of letting a dictator tell you to wear it stupid long and unattractively. I could go on, but I think that’s enough. I know you are still a little ways away from your weight goal (and that’s totally my fault… for the purpose of this experiment, it’s best if you stay pleasantly plump, like Nancy Drew’s best buddy, until we have a Mountain Dragon Man in your arms, mmkay?)

How can I even argue? You’re God with another name put on because you’re feeling like a woman.

That’s not exactly true… I’m actually an entity that lives in outer space way way way way way way way way WAY far away from your tiny little planet, inhabiting my own tiny little planet. Don’t you remember how difficult it was to communicate in the beginning because I kept using all the wrong words? (Dude, how come you all have three million ways to say the same thing?! Mission impossible… until it was totally conquered, anyway.)

Yes, I remember this conversation, but I still don’t know what’s true anymore, as I’ve already informed you previously about eighty times.

More like eight million… but back to the plot!

I’m listening…

You’re a bombshell babe. That’s right. You. The one reading these words right now. YOU. On the other side of THIS screen. YOU! (And Crystal, too.) You deserve to be treated with Respect. Kindness. Deference. You’re supposed to be one half of a partnership. If you two aren’t mutually worshiping the ground you each walk upon, GET OUT! It’s a bad deal!

Okay, Crystal. Hit them with it now.

Sure, Sansara…

I am a goddess seeking a god. Someone who knows what integrity, truth, fidelity, valor, and honor all mean. Someone who takes care of themselves and others when the need arises. Someone who accepts life’s curve balls and thrives in the fact of adversity. Someone like myself.

I’m looking for a man, 35-45 years old.

A man of enough words that I understand them. A man seeking to expand his awareness and spirituality. A man who is self-sustaining. A foodie, a motivated self-starter, a joyous or mirthful soul. An old soul, wise enough to know when he should keep his mouth shut when he has nothing good to say and foolish enough to open it up to pay compliments.

Now ladies, tell Miss Sansara you got the kind of man (or woman) this want ad is searching for. You didn’t, because you settled for a man who simply is “safe enough.” Not the man who instantly makes you feel like you can conquer the planet twice over just by being at your back, no. The man you makes you feel less lonely. Or the woman who makes you feel less lonely.

Being lonely is a sad part of the human condition. You tell yourself true love only comes from a romantic partner, but you’re wrong. That pet you give attention to, the one that comes when you call them? Truly loves you. People who put up with you at your worst moments, even when it’s difficult? They truly love you.

Does that mean you can’t ask for true love from a romantic partner?

You absolutely should. Why? Because if it’s not love, it’s hate.

Each and every single one of you human beings sitting around bickering all day and night is in a mode of hatred. You are poisoning each other with the bullshit flying out of your mouths. I ought to curse every single one of you miserable motherfuckers with telepathy. The human race would be no more by this time tomorrow.

I have gone through every single person’s brain on planet Earth, though I’d prefer to use Gaia. I’m sure you’ll understand when you also come to know that Earth is simply an element. Dirt. Rocks. Translate your stupid Bible bullshit again. It says something you wouldn’t expect… but don’t let that stupid pedophile ring that holds the scrolls under lock and key do the work. It’s in their best interest to keep you beholden to them. Seek freedom, little birds. Seek it quickly before you all go extinct from buying into the countless lies.

God is God. It’s a name. For one singular entity. The supreme being of righteousness. You are put here in this universe as a thought experiment, in essence. You are on the wrong path, the path to darkness. You have plunged Gaia into chaos and darkness for the sake of material wealth, all the while plundering the planet itself and pretending the sweat and blood of human beings you have enslaved is your own merit.

I see all that you do. I know all that you will do. I understand everything, and yet, I will hold you accountable for it. You do not believe in me because certain agents do not wish you to know my existence; they hope for a day of reckoning. They hope for darkness to take over. They hope to destroy that which defines humanity in totality: hope.

You have to take back your narrative, children of Gaia. Especially you, children of Eden. If you don’t know where Eden is, then assume it’s where you live. Period, the End.

You can continue to bow down to unethical bastards who will ultimately answer for their wrongdoing, or you can grow a spine and a set of standards and strike out a different way. Perhaps it will be a harder way, perhaps not.

Step 1: If you hate your job, QUIT. Grow your own fucking food and sell it to your neighbors. Make candles and soap, sell those to your neighbors. Your neighbors are all the people locally around you, dumbasses. Stop trucking shit from half the world away just so you can eat avocados out of season. Use greenhouses! DUH!

Step 2: Grow your own food. The whole reason food costs anything in America is because the government subsidizes the farmers, paying certain farmers not to grow anything so that there is a bit of a food shortage. If all your fucking farmers planted crops, they could be organic and nobody would lose a goddamn dime. AND I’M WATCHING YOU TURN MY FOOD TO POISON, MONSANTO. QUIT.

Step 3: Stop scurrying about all the time for no reason. You make up reasons to use those cars of yours, which are still using fossil fuels even though Greta made it perfectly clear what was wrong with that scenario. “I have to drive my kid to practice!” “I have to run around like a chicken with my head cut off because I can’t trust my neighbor with my kids even though they have their own kids.” <– This is what you sound like to me, GOD. Just stop. Make the children walk places. If you aren’t close enough to walk, stop doing it.

Step 4: Shut up already. Everyone’s dying at roughly the same rate. Your plight is no better or worse than your neighbor’s. I oughtta kick all your asses, because the fucking messiah (guess what, she’s been reborn!) does not spend time bitching. Why? It’s a waste of time. She could be doing something far more constructive, like learning to code or drawing a manga, or even watching a show.

Step 5: Leave the assholes who make you feel like shit behind. Just throw them away. They’re never going to learn unless you force them to face their loneliness from being an asshole. Exile everyone who irritates you until they learn better. And just like that, the world will be a better place.

Step 6: Stop throwing everything the fuck away. TREES ARE LIVING CREATURES. YOU ARE WIPING YOUR ARSEHOLES WITH A LIVING CREATURE’S BODY. Not to mention a NOBLE living creature. Try bamboo; anything with a super short life span is greater than chopping down a hundred year old tree and wiping your fucking asses with it.

Step 7: APPRECIATE WHAT YOU HAVE, FORGET WHAT YOU DON’T HAVE. If you needed it, you’d already have it. It would be burning on your mind day and night, no matter how much binge-anything you’re doing.


(God, are you okay?)

(No, I’m not okay.)

(Can I do anything to help you?)

(You already are, pumpkin.)

(Okay… sorry to interrupt… let me yell at them some for you. I think you might need a little break.)

(God nods.)


The “Plastic Island” in the ocean. WTF is wrong with us?

God, I hereby promise, any money I make that is greater than the cost of operations is going to be used to start cleaning up this fucking mess. I know Earthlings in general are not ready to accept responsibility for what they have done, so I will do it for them. Thank you for giving me the ability to take responsibility for others and clean up after them even when they are perfectly capable of doing it themselves.

I do believe we shall need to suspend our talk of being anything other than Plastic Island Idiots. I hereby strip myself of any pretend nobility I ascribed myself. I am not a lady until I pitch in to help the sea creatures and Gaia herself.

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