Jonathots Daily Blog
(4515)
I don’t feel good.
But I’m suspicious.
Both about feeling and about good.
Feeling seems to have such great promise until it arrives with its anemic personality and unnatural bend to the dark side.
It can’t be trusted.
First and foremost, it is not satisfied to just have a feeling—but instead, offers a diagnosis.
What I feel may be just a burpless bouncing of discomfort between my shoulder blades but is interpreted in my strain of brain as a pending heart attack.
I may just be a little breathless, but this is translated as respiratory failure.
Maybe lazy has won the day but it’s so much easier to declare it a pending crazy.
But I definitely don’t feel good.
How can I tell?
I’ve altered my schedule—my Holy of Holies.
Normally, after my kitty-kat nap, I go into the bathroom, piss and brush my teeth before heading into the music room to begin my afternoon writing session.
I did not piss, nor did I brush.
I came right to the music room and was no bettered by deleting efforts.
Something’s wrong.
Now, there is a beauty to this—and there is an ugliness.
Let me begin with the ugliness.
The ugliness is that I can accidentally sustain this feeling of uncertainty by fostering self-pity.
I can baby myself right back into the nursery.
I can convince myself of all sorts of pending gloom and doom.
Why? Because I’m fat.
That means every chest discomfort could be a coronary.
Every breathless exhibition is my BMI trying to smother me.
And every single pain that might exist in my legs is my aging, tackling me for the grave.
So you see, if I don’t get out of this mode, it will turn into a bad mood and it can mold my whole evening.
So I come into the music room to talk to you about it today.
I am not anticipating sympathy.
I’m not requiring that you confirm your mercy in my direction.
I’m using you as a sounding board. Maybe abusing you would be more accurate.
Because I don’t feel good.
But I will tell you that even as I talk to you about this, I feel a little bit better.
That little tiny headachy part in the front of my brow is gradually dissipating.
I know it’s nothing serious—I know I’ve underdone something, when overdoing would have been welcome.
Or I’ve overdone a plate of something when a saucer was in order.
But it doesn’t make it any easier.
I am fully aware that I am childish about my concerns and need to at least deduct the “hypo” off of my “chondria.”
Also—I owe myself a piss and a brush.
When will that happen? Is that gone for all time? Have I robbed my self of a urination and a tooth cleansing?
You can see, it can become very complicated.
I don’t feel good.
I don’t think it’s going to end with my demise.
But I have to admit, there are times it does reprise,
And is important for me to know how to surmise.
Jonathots Daily Blog 
Sit Down Comedy … July 3rd, 2020
Jonathots Daily Blog
(4452)
Waking up from my nap and sitting on the edge of my bed, I was listening to the muffled booming of the television trying to wiggle its way through my closed door.
After a few moments, I discerned that it was some sort of talk show, since there were two people conversing, and each one spoke too long for it to be a scripted program.
Trying to make out words.
It was a man and a woman speaking. Finally, after a few seconds of listening to the man, I made out what I assumed were three words: “admire a con.”
I winced but then snickered, realizing that this speaker had a bit of a Georgia drawl, and what he was trying to pronounce was “American.”
Almost immediately, the other person, the female, took up the cause and what I thought I heard her say was “a miracle can.”
Evaluating her accent—I guessed Bostonian—I once again had to chuckle, because this was her rendition of “American” also.
“Admire a Con” and “A Miracle Can.”
Remaining perched on the bed, I got to thinkin’.
As we round the corner to another day of Independence, we certainly, in candor, have to admit that our nation is often guilty of admiring a con.
Yes, we live in an environment where “Breaking Bad” is a good thing, where denying the truth is political magic, and refusing to take the blame for anything is deemed clever.
Those in power pretend they are surprised that the populous begins to turn on one another and cheat, lie, and attack. Then pundits comically insist they are trying to reveal both sides of the question.
So in this quagmire—where we “admire a con”—we find ourselves giving out, giving in and finally giving up.
We produce the best we can, only to be told there’s another way to do it which is not quite so expensive or meticulous. Therefore, we’re asked to give in to the common con, and after a while, because are hearts are hungry for some validity, we find ourselves giving up.
I don’t want to live in “Admire a Con,” even though the accent may be warm and fuzzy.
But on the other hand, “A Miracle Can” breathes potential.
As long as we don’t sit around and wait for God, gods and goddesses to perform their magic, miracles can be achieved through our efforts and glorified through celebration.
I could live in “A Miracle Can,” where I’m asked to bring my faith.
For you see, it’s too bad that faith has been associated with religion.
Faith is actually just an enduring belief—an insisting notion—a treasured principle.
So I could muster faith.
And then, with the rest of my brothers and sisters, we could all have a “come to Jesus” moment.
Not a revival, but rather, a renewal. A believing in one another.
Not a church service, but an inspiration to serve.
And once I brought my faith—that enduring belief—and had my “come to Jesus moment,” when time was still available for solutions—then I think I would actually be prepared to want to make things whole.
As long as things are broken, I can bitch.
If I contend that the world is hopeless, I can whimper and play victim.
But if I want to make things whole, I can get together with others, who bring their wit, will and willingness to join in.
I’m tired of living in “Admire a Con,” listening to mumblings through the door.
I need more than the promise of “A Miracle Can.”
Instead, I long to march together with newfound friends, as we bring our faith, have a “come to Jesus” moment and really, really want to make things whole.
Share this:
Like this:
- Practical Spirituality
on July 3, 2020 at 7:53 pm Comments (1)Tags: a miracle can, admire a con, American, bitch, Bostonian, Breaking Bad, come to Jesus moment, dark humor, faith, Georgia drawl, Independence Day, make things whole, muffled, pop psychology, pundit, renewal, Sit Down Comedy, social commentary, Television