On Being Human. On Human Being.

Every muscle, sinew, joint, tendon, bone, working in sync. Every blood vessel: vein or artery, blood coursing through each one. The heart beating that blood to every nook and cranny of the being. The brain, electricity shooting through it, firing, seemingly random, but in a calculated frenzy. Giving thoughts, feelings, emotions, memories. Good and bad memories. Good and bad thoughts. Isn’t it a wonder, that all of us have different ways of looking at the world, feeling the world, emoting our the world. We are so lucky. Or are we?

Who is we? Is a fabulously wealthy, handsome, stable, secure, in-love person, the same as a poor, ugly, mentally ill, lonely, beggar? Not – Is one person ‘better’ than the other? But they are far from the same. How do their brains differ, their feelings, emotions? Cripples’ bodies’ limping, agonizing movements are so different to that of a sportsman. A jogger. A swimmer. Why is it so?

Why do my knees, hips, elbows and shoulders scream in agony, simply trying to function? Why is that eighty year old man able to jog twenty miles? Why is my mind fractured? When many others who have had tougher lives, keep moving forward? It is important not to make comparisons? It is impossible not to? It is simply human nature? That does not make it good. It just makes it.

Sometimes fantasizing is the only out. Not imagining you are Adonis. Simply imagining normal. Being able to walk down the street. Buttoning your jeans. Traveling without reservation. That is not for me. I don’t get to do that. And so I sit here, with tears in my eyes again. Is it the rousing music I am listening to, to drown out the loud tourists who are sitting beside me? Maybe they are not tourists. They would likely take me for a tourist if they heard me speak, but I am not shouting. I can hear them speaking through my blaring music. My music will probably rupture my eardrums I have it up so loud to drown them out, and it’s still not working. I wish they’d shut the fuck up. Should I tell them? I suppose that would be obnoxious. Maybe I don’t care. SHUT THE FUCK UP. Maybe the Starbucks people will punch them in the penis and boobs. Maybe I should do it. There’s always cops around here though. Maybe the cops would understand. Okay. Got a little off topic there. Guess I’m not feeling so patient today. Hard to type with c***s around. God that’s a terrible word. But I went there. STOP Ingo.

In the end. You know when we’re dead and shit. We’ll all be the same. More than we ever were alive. My ash will be just as good as Michael Jordan’s ash. Sorry Michael. Just using you as an example love. And to all you racist motherfuckers out there. Sadly your ashes will be the same as his too. I wish I could say your piece of shit bodies would be less than, but no, we’ll all be the same. So even in death. The horrible, but physically strong, and wealthy people, will be the same as the beautiful, loving, poor, suffering souls. You know what? The later will have lived infinitely richer lives. Whether you believe in a Higher Power or not, which I don’t, those of you who struggle, I admire, I want to embrace, I feel a kinship with. I know that does not do anything practical for you, but you bring more to this world, than that other group ever can or will. You are loved, even by those who do not know you.

So when people like Kanye West shock White people and Black people alike, in his insensitive comments about slavery being a choice, it gives us a choice. The decent people of any race, to agree with him (are you fucking kidding me), or to speak out, as so many have, on how ridiculous his position is. I love that twitter has exploded with jokes about the ludicrousness of it. When men like Rashon Nelson and Donte Robinson settle with Starbucks for $1 after being racially profiled and arrested, it reminds us that there is dignity in standing up and showing the world what you think is right. When we have the courage to defend our Muslim neighbors, not just with rhetoric, but by walking with them to school, or standing outside their mosques so they are safe to worship, whether you believe in a different God or no God, then we are making our world a wonderful place to live in. We are proving we are the same.

I look back at the past. At cases like Emmitt Till’s. A fourteen year old child, visiting the South from Chicago, murdered because he may have talked to a white woman. Read that again. Murdered at fourteen. My oldest daughter is nearly twelve. She’s a fucking child. And so was Emmitt Till. I’m actually crying typing this. I know I cry easily. I am particularly angered by racism and prejudice of all kinds, because the victims don’t stand a chance. If you are treated differently because of something you cannot control, and indeed because of something that is not ‘wrong’ or ‘bad’ in any way, then you have no chance against the evil-doers.

Let’s talk for a minute about White racism towards Black people. I have given a few examples above. Let’s examine, however, the big picture, because that is the largest racism issue in this country. Do those White racists actually believe that Black people are less intelligent? Do they believe they are less strong? Do they believe they, the White people, are somehow chosen? Do they believe that any higher crime rates in Black communities, are not actually caused by years of slavery, followed by oppression, and then segregation, followed by racism, which continues now? What part of all of this does the racist White man (and woman) not see? Okay. Now I’m crying again. I would be such a shit politician, because while I would really give a shit about my constituents, I’d just cry all the time. Ha ha. Fr. Pflelger eat your heart out!

I think I’ve spoken of this before. I am lucky to live in a part of Chicago where the school my kids go to has a huge Hispanic and Arabic population. They see many moms with head scarfs every day. It is a normal part of their daily lives. There is no difference between Carlos’ mom, Amy’s mom, and Ahmed’s mom. They all wrangle each other’s kids, all go to each other’s birthday parties, and the moms all talk to each other on the playground. If more neighborhoods in America, and indeed everywhere were like ours, the world would be a more beautiful, less bigoted, safer place. I really feel lucky. One particularly cute thing pops into my mind. It was our school’s annual International Festival. Parents cook or bake dishes from their countries of origin. There are tons of different countries including our Irish\Mexican household. They also have various other art and leisure stands. It is held in May. One year the weather was amazing and they held it outside. My then three year old got a Batman henna tattoo from one of our Arabic moms. I have a beautiful photo of the two of them showing it off afterwards, which I would post if I had the mom’s permission. That is our school in a nutshell. We all tried foods from various countries. A ton of fun, and an education. Of course the kids turned their noses up at half it, but liked the other half.

God dammit. I always do this in my posts. Start with one subject and veer off in a completely different direction. So I’ll try to drag it back to the body. I wish I wasn’t racist, but I presume I am slightly. Maybe in the opposite direction. Like in the movie “Daddy’s Home.” Will Ferrell fires the Black handyman. Nothing to do with his race, just because he doesn’t think he’s great, or wants to do it himself or something. Then Mark Wahlberg suggests he did it because he did it because he was Black, so Ferrell feels bad and re-hires him. Wahlberg then asks his kids “What is it called when we treat someone different because of their race?” The kids scream in unison “Racism. Oh my God. Will Farrell is a racist!!!!” Anyway. A funny part of the movie. And it kind of reminds me of me. My equivalent is that I mostly only give money to Black homeless people. The reason behind my madness is not that I prefer Black people and have some weird hate for White people. It’s that I figure there are probably enough White racists out there not giving to Black homeless people, so I figure my giving to only Black homeless people helps balance that out in an infinitesimal way.

Shit. Back to the body.

So yeah. Is this a White, Black, Asian, Indian…. body? Yeah. I’m not sure either. Is the body Catholic, Protestant, Hindu, Muslim, Ashiest, Agnostic, Jewish, Buddhist, Sikh… none of the above? How about male, female, transgender? Gay, straight, asexual, questioning? Look at this diagram and we have no idea. And we shouldn’t care. I don’t have friends in every single category above, but I have in many of them, and I couldn’t give a shit what they are. You know what my criteria for a friend is? Don’t judge me or others. Know how to have fun. Know how to cry. Know how to laugh. Be there for me. Let me be there for you. That’s pretty much it. Obviously we have to click somehow too. Not everyone on the planet is going to be friends with everyone else. But if we’re not friends with everyone, we can treat them with respect, unless they’re like Hitler, Assad, Trump etc. Then we shouldn’t respect them, cause they suck and shit.

Peace out. And just be fucking nice and shit!