Thanks for the Memories

Thought I'm soooo glad to see 2013 go, I thought I would take some tome to say thank you for all the experiences.

I'm deeply grateful to Glenn for his generous spirit as my store started failing. He believed in us enough to help us through the last couple of weeks.

When I look back, I'm proud we went as long as we did with our store. I know that it could work with someone with a better plan. My hope is that someone will figure this out and grow it into something wonderful.

Yay for medical coverage that could deal with my cancer  quickly and that nothing spread. Thankfully, my scars are healing and my spirits are good.

I'm thankful for the Coos County Library System. The DVD section entertains me when I'm low and the access to interesting and amazing books keeps me informed on a large variety of topics.

We found a wonderful friend in Nick, who tends our yard and does odd jobs. He delights in science and science fiction as much as we do.

Life works best when you are willing to accept the less than perfect. We found a used spa tub to redo our master bathroom, a closeout vent/microwave for very cheap and Murry bought me a slightly used tablet for the holiday. Now we just need to find a deal on some cabinets.

It might sound silly, but sometimes you gotta sit down and thank the most insignificant things. Breathing comes to mind. I also have the ability to type, think and hear reasonably well. I can see some.

Strange things I learned this year include: You can cut your own hair and get noticed but changing your glasses doesn't register on anyone's radar. Vegetarian isn't so bad, once in a while.

I raise my glass of wait.. I don't have anything but water.. heh oh well.. DEAL. I raise my glass of water to the new year. How can it help but be better than this one!

Happy New Year!

Santa Baby

If you got no one to love this holiday, have a look in the mirror. That person needs love and attention.

Listen to Ertha Kit and ask for what you want. Make a plan, take a few steps and see what happens.

Before I met the Murry, I wrote down that I wanted a man like him. I also wanted a house. Murry had a house.

All I did was want those things. I had a clear definition of what they would look, sound and feel like. When I found them, they were familiar.

People like me, who grew up with an chaotic family sometimes find that familiar. Even if they vow they don't want what they lived, they find themselves repeating family patterns.

We can fill in those ruts and make a new path. It's not always easy or fun, but it's WORTH the outcome.

Make a plan, buy some sand, fill in those furrows and get working on a better life.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Great Balls of Fire

When I complain about my bad childhood and have those low moments when crying seems the only reasonable thing to do, I often lose sight of the wonderful gift it gave me. It's not some subtle abstract gift. It made me fucking awesome.

If you can't deal with that assessment, feel free to comment. Though maybe read the whole post first.

Some years before I started back to college, I talked to some friends about going to Europe. I had saved a few bucks from scholarship money and I found someone to be my companion. I thought, I'm legally blind, might be useful to have someone as a sighted guide.

Since I was paying the way, I thought that I should direct the itinerary. She didn't want to go where I wanted, see what I wanted and generally became distant. I'm not sure if I'm bossy or it just wasn't meant to be or what. None of it happened that way. Though I did get my passport.

As college wound down, I got the chance to go to a study program in Oxford, England. As part of my planning and research, I decided I wanted to see Italy and more in Europe while I was there. I got an extended ticket for a month and bought a couple of guide books and a rail pass.

With 34 fellow students on the program, I imagined I would find someone who would want to go at least a few of the same places. I made a few friends and asked them where they were going. None of them had any similar plans.

Faced with the choice of going alone, or not going, I chose to go by myself. I had blind person tools, like a magnifier  a small set of binoculars and a white cane. Though my cane wasn't a full sized used for walking one. It was just what they told me was an "indicator cane." only about three feet. It worked as just a kind of "hey, if I run into you, I didn't mean to" kind of thing. It worked well.

I also had a little translator computer I bought at Radio Shack. It was supposed to let me enter a sentence in English and then give me the phrase in the local language. It frustrated me and I never used it "in the field."

My experiences in the UK while going to school gave me confidence to do the trip by myself. I missed the school bus to go to Stone Henge so I had to find a way to catch up. I hopped a train and wandered around Salisbury, England, hoping to find the group.

As it was raining, I was wearing my rain poncho with the hood up. It occurred to me that my beacon like hair would probably make it easier for others to spot me, I lowered it. Seconds later, someone shouted my name and I caught up with our group.

It helps to be clever. After school ended later that month, I flew to Paris.

France proved a tad tricky but I'm not above asking for help and I managed to find my hostel and meet some friends. When I go back, for sure I'm buying an A to Z map of the big cities I visit. I got blissfully lost in Paris. While a joy, it's nice to get back when you want.

The guide books advised a backpack over any kind of suitcase. It leaves your hands free. I picked the lightest internal frame pack with hip strap I could find. I also took my denim day pack and a "bum bag" to carry as a purse.

Nice is nice so I said it twice. Then I hopped a train down to Rome and roamed. Okay, I'll stop now. I LOVE Italy. Aww heck, I love traveling. Got lost in Rome too. With a sighted lady who spoke Italian! She had a map. Eventually I took it from her and found our way back.

Yep, a blindish me took a map from a sighted woman and found our way back. She wanted to go see the Sistine Chapel, but we were in the wrong part of the Vatican. We did go inside St. Peters and wander around the square. Very quietly and to myself, I sang Vatican Rag by Tom Lerher. Cheeky geeky American. (sorry I wasn't going to do that anymore.)

I even LOOK American at least to one Italian guy. I approached as he sang a rousing song while unloading a truck. He broke into English and sang, "I wait for you pretty lady!" Swoon.

I stand out with the white hair and I think I was committing the cardinal travel sin of wearing sandals with socks. I never thought that was a good thing until my feet were too sore to wear regular shoes.

I found some other travel companions and I did make it to the Sistine Chapel. Though there's little comparison to it's stunning beauty, my favorite part was listening to "oh wow" in every world language.The faint scent of must and paint added to the ambiance.

After a few days, I hopped the train to Florence. The Tuscan countryside reminds me of wine country near Napa, California. Only greener and more bucolic.

The hostel couldn't accommodate me so they gave me a list of local hotels that rented rooms for fairly cheap. Twice the rate of the hostel, but I didn't have to share. I think I was there three nights. It felt like I could walk the whole city along the red terracotta roofs.

I followed some ladies into a line next to the Duomo thinking it was the way inside. Turns out it was the line to CLIMB the dome! Hundreds of steps with my bad knee and chunky body, I should probably have passed, but I was too embarrassed to beg off.

I'm glad I didn't. These breathtaking views show the awesome power of the Medici family wealth. Next time I think I'll climb the bell tower.

Exhaustion and the awesome view combined to set me on a depressive path. I contemplated throwing myself off the dome. I felt so alone up there. Obviously I didn't. I started to think no one would notice or care and no one would know how to contact the people I did know in America. Whatever reason, I took these awesome photographs and climbed back down.

My cane came in handy when a group of gypsy children approached me in the Duomo square. The guide book said that it was common to distract someone by holding something in front of them and then going in their pockets. The kids surrounded me and held a piece of cardboard toward me. I waved them all back with my cane. I didn't hit any of them, but I made sure I kept safe.

I left Florence and headed for Venice. I spent the day there rode around on the vaporetta Grand Canal boat "bus" and went over to St. Mark's square. I didn't go inside the Doge's palace but I did see the beauty of the mosaics inside the cathedral. The drizzle must have kept tourists in their rooms as the square sported more pigeons than people. Cool with me, I like birds better.

I selected the special of the day at the one sit down meal as the sun set. Lasagna, a salad and a mimosa made with thick apricot juice and some kind of Tuscan sparkling wine. Though I ate alone, I felt content as I floated to catch my train.

I'll write more about my ballsy adventures in later posts.

See? Fucking awesome. Told ya.

My Heart Belongs to Daddy

A couple of people have said they were working on quitting smoking. Congratulations to them.

Everyone in my family of origin smoked. Everyone except me. Some have since quit, but at one time or another, all three of my siblings and both parents lived with this lung destroying addiction.

Both my parents and all the men my mother married drank to excess. She denies that she "drank that much." Compared to an ocean, a lake isn't that much. But it's still water.

So just after my parents divorced and my father had custody of me and my older sister, it wasn't uncommon for him to have cans of beer on the coffee table. He'd leave four or five just strewn there. Often he'd have a few sips left in one, forget he already had one and open another.

I can hear his throaty "yeuck yeuch" as he sat in his green shirt and boxers laughing at HeeHaw and sucking his teeth. A wisp of smoke trailed from his jutting cigarette as he curled his fingers to reach for the Coors can.

On more than one occasion I sipped a few dribbles myself. I was around five. Yeah, dad couldn't ever be called the most responsible parent. He was doing the best he could.

One day, I came by and started sipping the dregs of his cans.The tang of the amber liquid tickled my nose. I must have been exceptionally small or the table larger, as I remember bringing the cans to the edge, tipping and sipping. I grabbed one, raised it to my lips and poured stale beer and cigarette ashes down my throat 

I've heard that kissing a smoker for a non smoker is like "licking an ashtray." I've kissed a smoker and I drank an ashtray. They're not the same.

I cannot get that experience out of my mind and whenever the thought of smoking or beer drinking comes up, I can't help but gag. Daddy had no notion of the valuable gift he gave me. He just liked his drinking and smoking ways.

I know addictions are rough things to get through. I hope those of you who are trying to change your lives have wonderful success.

Kind comments always welcome.

Don't Bring Me Down

Do something to improve the life of someone else. Just do it. Try something. Smile at everyone and be okay. I get that we can't all be happy, just choose okay. 

I had so many other things to write about today. Too many ideas in fact. Finally I decided to write this. To just ask everyone to chill out and lighten up. Grab on to kindness and don't let go. Buy your co worker a cup of coffee or have a brief chat. Whatever you can spare from your own busy life. 

Short and sweet. Kind comments welcome. 

Something from Nothing

I started to cry as I watched people pick through trash for pennies a pound. I wondered about a world that regards people who do this as trashy themselves. The 60 Minutes report went on to show how a music teacher created instruments from the trash and formed a makeshift orchestra.

Humans amaze me. It takes little digging to find cruelty and waste, yet among all the flawed brokenness, beauty shines.

I live with a master scrounge. He wont dive into a dumpster, but he's been known to lurk behind stories that put unwanted items near there. He thinks nothing of asking repair crews for left over materials. Our store had an entire light bank scrounged from a store remodel, including lights.

Can you imagine what we can do when we start looking at everything and everyone as valuable?  Imagine a world where many more people had access to the basics of food, shelter and safety? How can we create such a world? How can we employ people in activities that spark their minds and show their skill?

I choose to start with deciding to see value in everyone. I urge you to do the same. Start looking for beauty and value everywhere. I bet you'll find more than you ever expected.

Kind comments welcome.

Workin on the Chain Gang

My perspective may be a lot skewed by being entrepreneurial by nature and having few real world jobs, but I don't get staying miserable at work. Maybe it's the questioning part of me. I see it as a kind of equation.

       work = pay = happy
       work+grief = pay-happy

You spend time doing something for pay. At the end of an agreed upon period of time you get compensation. Though there are lots of kinds of compensations that don't involve money. Prestige, education or even health benefits can all enhance a work experience.

Then there are work stresses that people put up with to gain money. Some of them are emotional, like being a caregiver to the elderly or sick. You risk the sadness at their passing or the stress of their pain. Working as a carpet layer can hurt your knees and logging and mill work can injure or even kill a worker.

Most work that has high hazard gets compensated monetarily at a higher rate, but sometimes that isn't the case. Caregivers might feel a sense of compassion as they help someone reduce their suffering. Then one person's compensation might be another's torture. It really depends on a person's perspective.

My confusion begins when someone complains about their work and I ask what they plan to do about it. They often react like I'm crazy for even thinking that.

One friend recently told me that her boss yells at her. When I tried to find out what was going on, the girl threatened to kill herself. I get that it's very painful to get yelled at and there is way more going on than a lousy boss. Still, that might be a drastic reaction to her pain and stress.

The person involved struggles and I take her pain serious. I know enough about her to stay calm and just remind her of little things to alleviate her suffering. I have tried to get her to find a way to look at the boss as someone who yells at the wind. I asked her to let it brush past her and just go do her work.

I suspect that she, like many people, gets something out of the interaction. Maybe it fits her view of herself. Maybe she believes she deserves to be mistreated and therefore this confirms it. This is what I suspect as she refuses to take ANY step, even in conversation, to change her life.

Something else that I find interesting. I know a guy who works as a security guard who complained about a work site that didn't allow guards to use the fridge. Plus he had some comments about how some areas could be secured better. His supervisor told him that they didn't want his input.

He doesn't want to be doing security in the first place and keeps going on interviews for different kinds of jobs. I just wish that he could find some okayness and not stress over the job he has now.

He also complains about other guards not doing enough. I really wonder why people do that? Constantly compare themselves to their coworkers in an effort to one up or one down themselves. How does that help your own life? I have never heard anyone that complained about a coworker benefit from that complaint. Even when they weren't doing their job.

Suggesting an improvement that has clear benefits to the company may change things. Feel free to make a proposal that saves time, money, energy and improves safety. Also, making an employer aware of unsafe practices and refusing to DO unsafe practices should be the only time to take a real stand. That's simply self preservation.

Why continue with an employer who does not share your sense of values? If you want an open creative place where people pull their wight and share their experiences and you don't have that, make a plan to move to a workplace that does. If you choose to stay and believe you can improve the one you are working at, realize, you made a CHOICE.

I can tell you it IS possible to keep a job you mostly like and improve it through how you act. Rarely can you throw up a list of demands. Think being manipulative is a bad thing? Then it's time to find another job. Humans manipulate each other all the time.

Pay more attention to the people who are doing good things and who respond to improvement. Start isolating and making less fuss over what goes wrong.

Just a little side note that I thought while writing this. Have you considered one reason you're not getting anywhere with your complaint is someone has decided to isolate YOU? It's great to know you're good at your job, but what if you're not as good as you think you are? How about asking for help in improving even if you think you're doing your best?

Sometimes we find ourselves seeing something wrong everywhere. Certainly leave any hazardous workplace, but be careful to not take your fault finding with you.

Whether you stay or go, consider re framing your complaints into something that will benefit where you work. You could also re frame then as unimportant. How about if someone is lazy, suggesting the whole group needs a bit of extra training? If you don't like the rules but they don't HURT you, decide to let that go. Don't use the work fridge, bring food that doesn't require it. Use a thermos to keep your drink cold.

I realize that much of this post is complaining about other people's complaints. I want you to know that I hear what you are all saying and my one sincere hope is that you find a wonderful life that brings you what you most desire. You spend almost a third of your life working. Shouldn't it be at a place that you enjoy?

Peace.

King of Pain

Every time I go to the doctor, the clerk gives me a piece of paper with general symptoms on it. I always put down what I observe, but the doc almost never comments on my knee pain. I'm sure she chalks it up to my fatness and therefor isn't really important. It will go away when I get thinner.

I do not seek meds for pain. I rarely take them. I worry about addiction as my family could get caught up in that. Though I suppose I don't really worry THAT much. It doesn't seem to be my thing. Addiction I mean. I can take a single drink of alcohol and not want any more.

I tried pot when I was younger and only smoked a few times. When I realized that the effect seemed like being over tired, I saw no need to continue. Over tired is free and legal. Though, the feeling isn't that great so I don't even do that.

I have no idea where I got the idea, but I started directing my energy away from pain and toward feeling okay. I mean even before I heard Iyanla Van Zant expressed the "Choose Okay" sentiment.

Writing always helps me figure things out. It's not like I just deny any and all sources of pain. I think that's dangerous  As I've said before, it's there for a purpose. "Don't do that. It will hurt."

So I write up the painful things so I can sort through them. Then I can set it aside and use my mental energy to think about the areas where I feel contentedness and joy.

Indiana Jones went through a massively painful event where he got scrapes and bruises all over. His girlfriend began kissing him and he complained about the pain. So she angrily asked where it didn't hurt. He presented his elbow and she kissed it. Then he pointed to various other parts and she kissed those too.

Treat yourself the same way. Let the pain be real while paying some attention to the places that feel fine.

I find I bring more feelings of peace into my life when I think thoughts of peace. I find calm when I look for calm.

Today, I ask you to write down your most prominent pain. Now set that aside for a moment. Think about the spot on your body or the place in your mind where no pain exists. Wallow in the splendid spot for as long as you can.

I find that whenever I do this, I feel less pain even from the very real hurts. Never deny the powerful and amazing lessons the universe has for you by giving you the gift of a painful experience. Give yourself the gift of learning those lessons well enough to go on without the pain.

Kind and gentle comments welcome.

Sweet Dreams

I told someone about a desire I have that I keep close to my heart. Thankfully my trust was justified and she let me dream without criticism. That hasn't always been the case in my life.

While riding with a friend I was happily babbling about a horse property I'd found. It was more than I could afford so I was musing about boarding animals for other people. I have no horse experience, but I thought how hard could it be to rent space.

My friend started screaming how it was hard work and I shouldn't even consider it because I didn't know anything about horses. It wasn't even like she was trying to steer me away from the idea, I felt she was calling me stupid for even thinking it for a second. After a few minutes of stunned silence, I muttered that I wasn't planning on torturing horses.

We're no longer friends. I can't stay around people who crap on my dreams in the planning stages. Kind guidance and pointing out pitfalls can actually excite me. Then it's a feeling of you're taking me seriously. Just screaming "stupid idea" makes me think of YOU as MEAN.

Part of my idea involves contact with people who have disabilities. Though I may still work on this project, I kind of don't want to at the same time.

As a kid, I frequently got lumped into the group "handicapped." Now I am a realist, my vision gives me grief and I wouldn't want others to have it. If I could cure it and the cure had a good percent chance of working and wouldn't hurt me trying it, I'd do it.

So lumped into the group, I found there were nice people and there are not nice people with disabilities. Duh, groups of humans has every kind in it. Though, far more imperfect people have a "poor me" attitude than I like. That gets on my nerves.

I want to be around people who grab the world by the tail and go for it. I want to view the world and share my views and be admired and praised for that.

Perhaps I am not in control of the kind of people I will meet and just need to keep MY attitude and let other people have theirs. Now I feel a lot better. I am not in control so why lament that? Do what I can to encourage and admire others and not be the mean friend who finds fault with the lives of others.

Funny, I started this post with one thought and now I'm ending it with another.

Kind comments welcome.

Steam Heat

Controversy about a film doesn't automatically turn me off so when I heard "The Heat" had some objectionable scenes related to albinism I waited until I saw the film before commenting. Hollywood has a very bad track record with the portrayal of albinism and even constantly making off hand remarks about someone being so pale as to be "albino." It wears on you after a while.

Don't get me wrong, Hollywood screws up all kinds of things. Computers always make more noise and usually have way more blinky lights than in the real life. Just imagine what life would be like in a real ER with all those doctors screwing around, getting beat up and brain tumors? Okay, so I am not EXPECTING reality. I do expect some level of courtesy.

There are countless examples of albinism portrayed as bad, evil and villainous. Even when characters aren't identified as having albinism, the made up to look like us creates a climate of hostility. "Powder" was supposed to be a hero and martyr to his goodness, still, the whole mystic aspect created myths that set people with albinism apart.

I will only mention the film "Foul Play" for it's "albino" sharp shooter for the galling mockery of people with vision problems. "The Matrix" characters didn't seem to be called "albino," but I think that identifier was taken out. Whether it was out of concern, or maybe it just ended up on the cutting room floor. That does happen.

"The Heat" is a comedy about two female cops who end up working together. Sandra Bullock plays an ambitious FBI agent who gets sent to track down the leader of a drug ring in Boston. She meets up with Melissa McCarthy and together hey intimidate suspects and try to find the ring leader.

I like both these actresses but found neither of them funny in these roles. For me, it lacked all suspension of disbelief. Their back stories were devoid of depth or balance and they could have titled this Dumb and Dumbest as they bumbled through their police work.

Albinism came into play with a character as a DEA agent. Most people with albinism I know have poor eyesight. I know some have close to normal vision, but I've never heard of anyone having eyesight good enough to be in law enforcement. McCarthy's character berates the DEA agent for his pale skin and they exchange insults. It's all very grade school.

What bothers me most is the knowledge that someone knew of the controversy of characters with albinism and purposefully threw it on our face. Earlier in the movie Bullock's character channel surfs past both "Foul Play" and "The Matrix" scenes with characters who look like they had albinism. Sometimes doing something like this could be what they call "foreshadowing." Taking a seemingly random event earlier in a film to show some insight into future events. It's a nice technique when used as an enlightening purpose. In this case, it only served to show either the director or the writer, to be an even bigger asshole than their insulting characters.

Defamation and exploitation serves only to support a culture of bullying. I ask for balance. Treat all people as humans. We all have flaws, bad days or times we're rude for no reason. Fine. Show more happy healthy courageous people in whatever light they shine.

Avoid "The Heat" for it's lack of decent plot, poor character development and boring lack luster physical comedy. Even though the whole post is about albinism in film, that aspect of this film comes fairly far down on my list of dislikes. Stop it, it's not cool to create harassing environments for people. Not cool, Hollywood, very not cool.

Resurces on albinism in film. This is only a partial list:
http://albinism.org/popcult/film.htm
Internet Move Data Base to "The Heat":
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2404463/?ref_=nv_sr_1
National Organization for Albinism and Hypopigmentation 
http://www.albinism.org/

Faith

I'm a science geek. I love thinking of things in terms of experiences, experimentation and evidence. This brought me to the conclusion that I doubt the existence of god as practiced in most religious faiths.

Though I haven't spent extensive time studying all tenants of major faiths, my casual examination leads me to atheism. I would adjust my thinking should a reliable source confirm a god like higher power.

I do see many things greater than myself. Things like group think, the ocean and nature in general leave me in awe of their great power. I find social connection to be amazing and it's my belief that biological connection may be behind intriguing studies on the power of prayer.

I'd like to single out the Christian faith for a few events that pushed me more toward atheism. Mainly because I have more contact with Christians.

I grew up loosely associated with the Mormon faith. My youth made it all seem so silly when it wasn't down right crazy. It didn't help that the crazy Mormon lady I lived with disobeyed the faith by drinking Coca Cola. She taught me that even though she demanded rigorous adherence to her ridiculous standards, she couldn't live up to her own set of values.

Later in high school, my friends talked some about their faith and I felt a little left out. Like there was something powerful in their connection to a power greater than themselves. I wondered what I was missing. I am afraid of "the faithful" because of the abuse I suffered.

I do respect other people who choose an organized faith path. So long as they let me alone to believe as I choose.

Still later, at holiday time, I often felt hypocritical because I didn't believe in the faith aspect. I heard another atheist speak of it being a social time of connection and gift giving. I felt a lot better after that. Though I do see some of the rushing around and worry a bit too much stress. I try and stay out of that.

While at the home of some relatives of my friend, I heard a Born Again Christian tell his children that there were dinosaurs on Noah's ark. It saddened me to see someone hold so tightly to their mythos that they fail to realize the power of their story.

This same father refused to take yoga for fear of being corrupted by the Indian mythos. I started to wonder why the power of "Jesus" didn't prevent this from happening? I've heard from other sources that "God" gives believers free will. Okay, I like free will, but what is their faith FOR if it doesn't give them the power to exercise without falling prey to a new faith?

My illusions of faith finally completely broke down after an online conversation with a devout Christian young lady. She desperately wanted to be in a relationship, but said she couldn't go out with men. She was so afraid the man would excite her into a sexual frenzy. Since that would be against "his plan," she refused to date anyone.

This floored me. Again, her belief didn't seem to comfort or guide her. It just kept her stuck. Clearly these people are not typical of all people's of faith. I know plenty of Christians who take and even teach yoga and plenty of deeply faithful young women who date without hopping into bed with the first person who smiles their direction. However, what they showed me was the lack of power in their "Jesus."

I started to feel the power of my own brain. If I don't want to sleep with a man, I wont. I don't happen to have any faith guiding me against it, so I view it as a choice. I can do what I think is in my physical  mental and emotional best interests.

I do understand that some may take offense at my commentary. Please understand that my conclusions are for me. If you find power and comfort in your faith, I have no interest in influencing your choice.

Kind and thoughtful comments welcome.

Getting to know you

(This is number 4 in a science fiction series I started. Here are the links to the previous ones if you wish to catch up. This is completely made up as I go and started on a suggestion from a chat. Comments welcome.)

1. Undercover Angel
2. Double Vision
3. Ya Gotta have Friends

  Georgia awoke to chimes that vibrated the whole house. Not loud, but low frequency so it would carry through the paper membrane homes the Chentry preferred.
  She leaped behind the "couch" she was sleeping on and tried to make herself small. Benhi scurried past   griping over his shoulder at her to "calm down, it's only my delivery."  She blinked a few times and tried to wake up but remained hidden.
   Benhi lowered down a platform out his door and pulled up his delivery. Once the platform rose to the same height as the floor, he flipped a switch and a force shield held it in place. He buzzed something to the delivery team and went about moving things off the "door."
  "Make yourself useful and come help me, Kapkah."
  Georgia glanced up from her hiding place and saw packages of various sizes. Most wrapped in the paper like substance the Chentry use, but some were square wooden crates.
  She moved out and began pushing things off the door plate. Benhi pointed here and there when he wanted something moved to a certain place. She huffed a couple times when something was very heavy and he came over and put anti grav discs on the side and things slid much easier.
  Once the pair put everything in order he asked her if she wanted to leave right away. He offered to open the door, but if she would stay a bit longer and help him a bit more, he would give her breakfast. She agreed to stay.
  This Chentry fascinated her. He asked what she wanted to do and treated her with respect. She glanced at him as they worked, trying to puzzle out his angle. Everybody has an angle. She'd learned that much in her short life.
  After they unpacked and sorted through what she could only guess was contraband, she started to work out that Benhi dealt in black market Chentry and human goods. No wonder he didn't turn her in. She had no status to turn him in either.
  He gave her some breakfast and sat nearby to talk. She ate more slowly than the night before. This time he gave her some guava nectar and she sipped it slowly. She knew the Chentry loved the drink but she'd only seen it once at the orphanage. Some of the other students intentionally spilled some so they could taste it while cleaning it up.
  "How long have you been on your own"" Benhi asked.
  Georgia looked down and fidgeted with her food trying not to answer too much. The night before he knew when she lied. She tried a bit of a sob story line to see if he would buy it. Told him she ran away from her "family," but he just glared at her.
  "If you are gonna work with me, Kapkah, I'm going to have to teach you how to lie," said Benhi with a chirpy laugh. She shot him a look of surprise and then realized her impertinence and fell to her knees in apology.
  "None of that, now, " he said gently. "Get up and let me have a good look at you." He motioned for her to lift her arms and asked her to raise her hair. She worried that he might be contemplating selling her into prostitution and she risked his wrath and told him she wouldn't do it.
  "You're too clever for that. What has it been, two years since you left the worker training orphanage? You have that look about you. You know how to behave and not to ask questions, but I need you to pass for upper class. I think I can teach you, if that sounds interesting?"
  Georgia didn't know what to think. She had questions of her own. Keeping her eyes averted, she shrugged.
  Benhi chirped a chuckle and went to his phone. He called up another Chentry and spoke so fast she couldn't catch a single word. He turned and looked at her and said a few more things and then hung up.
  "Tell me how you survived so long on the streets? I ordered you some new clothes and a portable shower unit. It will take a bit for those to arrive. We might as well get acquainted."
  "I don't know where to start," Georgia hedged. She wanted to keep her secrets. She was still reeling from being called clever. In school she often felt the sting of a whip for speaking too soon or figuring out how to do something without being instructed.
  "look, Kapkah, I trusted you enough to help me so far. I feel I've earned enough for you to trust that I mean you no harm. How about you start with your name?"
  Georgia took a deep breath and told him her first name. Then she confirmed the two years on the street. He invited her to sit down while they talked and after a few minutes she'd told him of her petty thefts of clothes, food and occasional shelter. He nodded and told her that he knew that there were quite a few underground humans scurrying about. He'd done a little business with a few and used them to run errands for him.
  He proposed a trade. He would help her with a reasonable status, so she wouldn't have to ever worry about being sent to forced labor. In exchange, she would work for him. She looked up at him when he asked, not told, but asked if she thought she could work with him. She held his gaze for longer than she thought proper and agreed.
  "Now you're learning, Kapkah!" he bellowed. He reached out to pat her on her back and slowed when she flinched. He only tapped her gently and tossed his head back in a smile.
  "Please, may I be addressed by my name from now on, "she asked.
  "Yes, my new friend, Georgia, " he said with a bow of respect.
  "Thank you, my new friend, Benhi, " She replied, returning the bow.

Stop! In the name of love!

Some of us with albinism avoid using the term "albino" because it was used as an insult. I have other reasons that include, if you have cancer, you don't call the person with cancer, cancero. I am more than a medical condition I have. Though some of my friends, with and without cancer, like the term cancero. They're just funny people and I let it slide.

Here's the deal. Bullying with words can leave deeper scars than physical bullying. I chat online. I'd say a good 50 to 70 percent of my Facebook friends are from chat groups. The Internet is rampant with verbal bullies. The anonymity and lack of consequences emboldens cruel minded resentful people.

While sitting and watching others chat, a causal acquaintance called someone else a "retard." I sat there trying to think of some response that would let the person know that was NOT okay with me. Honestly, I never came up with anything.

The very next day I saw someone else in a different chat room say that something at his work was "retarded." That time I spoke up. I just asked the person to use another word. He was a bit defensive, but he understood.

I've had debates with people about the "albino" comments. People tell me it's used as a medical term. I have used it and I will probably use it again in the future. I have a preference for NOT using it. I do correct medical professionals who use it, but I don't press it. I do consider someone who uses it once I asked them not to to be a bully.

Feel free to express dissatisfaction with things, but consider how your words may effect those around you. Don't give me that line of crap about political correctness. When you walk in someone's shoes, or ride in their wheelchair, then maybe you can comment about how tough it is for you to find a better word to use.

STOP BULLYING.