#the life of a kentucky colonel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shipskicksandgiggles · 2 years

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I wish you would write a fic where Tony and Rhodes are dating and Peter is somehow oblivious and Harley and Peter are dating and tony is oblivious. But at the same time everyone else in the tower knows about both couples including Rhodes and Harley.

stunning, I love it, I only meant to write a short blurb but alas it's like 1:30am and that did not happen so here you are

prompt: "I wish you would write a fic where..."

Read Better Realizations here on ao3

~~~

Here’s the thing: Peter isn’t dumb.

Of course Peter isn’t dumb. He’s been Tony Stark’s personal intern since he was 15 years old. He’s at the top of his class. He’s Spider-Man for goodness sake.

Peter Parker is a certifiable genius.

That being said, his boyfriend would like to make the case that he is, in fact, very, very stupid.

Harley loved him, he really did, but there’s only so much of this he can take.

He explained as much to Rhodey, who had similar views about his own partner.

“What are we supposed to do with them?” Harley asked tiredly.

“Pray to whatever gods you believe in that one of them pulls their head out of their ass. Honestly, how do you think I got Tony to realize I was in love with him?”

“I kind of assumed violence was involved. Maybe some skywriting.”

“Smartass. I get why Tony pulled you out of Kentucky.”

“You know damn well I’m not from Kentucky.”

Rhodey waved him off. “You’re telling me this isn’t how you dealt with Peter?”

“They’re more different than you think. If anyone had to pull a head out of their ass, it was me.”

“Internalized homophobia?”

“Oh no, I thought he was dating either Ned or MJ. I was ready to accept that he was dating both of them when he asked me out.”

He snorted. “Okay, so how do you handle Peter being stupid normally?”

“Peter is only ever stupid when he’s concussed. I don’t think this is something I can pick him up and force him to go to the infirmary for.”

“Fair enough. So I guess it comes down to either telling them, or they have to realize it for themselves.” Rhodey got up to throw away his coffee cup. “Back to the Tower?”

It started as study breaks for Harley. Rhodey would come knock on his door and drag him out of his apartment for coffee, and sometimes he would act as a second set of eyes and ears when Harley was working on a particular project.

Harley graduated last year, but he still got coffee with Rhodey once a month. It was an opportunity to get his mind off work, off the team, and off adult life for an hour or so while they caught up and occasionally talked shit about their partners.

“Back to the Tower,” Harley nodded. He drained the last of his coffee and tossed it in the garbage bin as they grabbed their to-go bags off the table and walked out the door.

“You know everyone has a bet going on which one of them figures it out first?”

“Figures. Who does Nat have her money on?”

“Peter.”

“Makes sense. No offense to your husband, but he’s really bad at social cues.”

“No, I know. Peter’s good about realizing things slowly. He’ll get there. And Tony isn’t my husband.”

“Not yet. Maybe Peter will get it when you propose.”

“I say give it a week after that for him to realize it’s not an elaborate friendship thing.”

“Fair enough. How high are the stakes?”

“They add on $5 every week it goes on.”

“Shit. I kind of want in on that.”

“Oh yeah, I wouldn’t get involved, but six months in I caved. We’ll talk to Bruce about getting your name added to the mix.”

“Fantastic. Same time next month?”

“Of course. JARVIS, where are Tony and Peter?”

“I would direct you both to the common floor, Colonel.”

“Thanks JARVIS,” Harley said, hitting the button for the elevator. “You know, we should try that new coffee place.”

“The one a block over?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard good things.”

“Sure. Is it one of those new age places that shames you for using regular milk?”

“Not sure, but I can always find out. It’s so hard to find places that don’t.”

“I’m glad that lactose intolerance has been normalized, but they’re ruining it for the rest of us.”

“Here, here.”

The elevator slid open to show most of the team huddled in the living area. Most of them because Tony and Peter were both in the kitchen, presumably grabbing snacks before heading back down to the lab where they had been buried themselves that morning.

Predictably, they dropped everything they were holding as soon as they saw their respective partners.

Harley braced himself before Peter managed to knock him over. His boyfriend may not be particularly large, but somehow Harley ended up flat on his ass the last time he didn’t prepare for a high velocity hug. He learned quickly that he needed to plant his feet before Peter got to him.

“Hi sweetheart, how’s your lab day going?”

“It’s good! Tony and I have been making alterations to the suit. How do you feel about lightning webs?”

“Sounds dangerous, please make sure your suit is resistant to electricity and that you won’t kill any of us by accident.”

“Maybe I’ll hold off then. Regardless, we’re getting really close to figuring out a more efficient cartridge for my web fluid. We were about to go back down and keep working on it, but you’re back and I wanted to say hi! How was coffee with Colonel Rhodes?”

“It was good, I brought you back one of those chocolate croissants you like.”

“Oh really? Thank you! I haven’t eaten since before you left, this is my first break.” He took the bag Harley handed him and immediately dug in.

It gave Harley the change to look over at Rhodey and Tony who were practically on top of each other less than ten feet away.

Rhodes had also brought home a bag for Tony, a loaf of banana bread that they all knew he wasn’t going to share with anyone.

They knew neither of them would have eaten much today, so bringing home food was a safe bet. It also meant they weren’t paying attention to anything else, and likely wouldn’t become aware of their surroundings until much later.

Peter gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re an angel.”

“You need to remember to eat, dear. I’m simply reminding you to stay alive. Now go finish gathering your snacks and get back to work. I’ll let you know when to come up for dinner.”

He smiled and gave Harley one last kiss before heading towards the kitchen to retrieve his load from before.

Next to him, Rhodey was telling Tony something similar. They were human disasters, the both of them.

Still, Peter was quicker, and walked back in just as they were pulling back from a kiss of their own.

A look of confusion crossed his face. Maybe he was closer to figuring it out than they had initially realized.

Harley really needed to get in on that bet before he realized.

Tony took some of the snacks from him, and bid them adieu before making his way to the lab with Peter in tow.

Then, Peter’s careful question of “hey, how’s Pepper?” floated down the hall, and Harley turned to Rhodes with wide eyes.

“Oh shit.”

“Bruce!” Rhodey called. “Harley’s in.”

#ellis writes #harley keener #james rhodes #peter parker #tony stark #parkner #ironhusbands #harley keener x peter parker #james rhodes x tony stark #humor #fluff and humor #established relationship

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testudoaubrei-blog · 9 months

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If I could give young people one piece of ultra specific life advice that isn’t just ‘you will figure this out as you get older’ type shit, it would be to think about answering the help wanted ads at your university for weird old people that need help with driving/cleaning/computers. You will meet some absolutely fascinating people this way and get an interesting perspective on life.

For my part I answered the ad to drive Ms M around town. She was Emerita faculty at my college. She had one of those unplaceable European accents, and for good reason - she was born in Germany in 1930 or so and then grew up in the Netherlands. Since she was Jewish, in her words ‘I didn’t go outside very much’ when she was a young teen - that was all she said about it, other than her fondness for the people who hid her. I only learned after her death that her brother had been killed by the Nazis, and as I recall one of her parents survived the camps.

She had that old world emigre vibe to a T. Not just the accent or the sharp mind or having known all kinds of famous or infamous smart people (Leo Strauss, Richard Rorty, Etc) but the sense of curiosity that was undimmed after nearly 80 years. She didn’t put up with any bullshit or equivocation and she always kept you on your toes. She was particularly interested in the American pragmatist philosophers but she was interested in everything. She helped me grow into an actual adult thinker rather than just an enthusiastic kid.

My spouse answered a different ad for computer help for an older gentleman. Also a retired professor, but he had taught architectural preservation. He had been on a dozen commissions and lived in like half a dozen countries. He was also basically a Kentucky Colonel. Thick accent, smooth manners, mint juleps and all. He was a mid century liberal who liked to quote Dorothy Parker and who idolized both Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. He referred to five o’clock as the Children’s Hour, which meant time for a martini.

He was also queer as all hell, if you didn’t guess this already. My spouse eventually figured out he’d been in love with a man in the 50s while he was in the Navy and then had lived in Rio with two women in the early 60s - my spouse drove him and both of them home from his 80th birthday party.

The thing both of them did, I think, is each show us a different world, one that passed away with each of them and their generation. But both of their worlds maybe live in on us as we remember them, and that is something, even after Chaininah M died 9 years ago and we just went to David’s funeral.

So yeah, think about answering that help wanted ad.

#personal #life advice

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ausetkmt · 8 months

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Her name was Julia Chinn, and her role in Richard Mentor Johnson’s life caused a furor when the Kentucky Democrat was chosen as Martin Van Buren’s running mate in 1836.

She was born enslaved and remained that way her entire life, even after she became Richard Mentor Johnson’s “bride.”

Johnson, a Kentucky congressman who eventually became the nation’s ninth vice president in 1837, couldn’t legally marry Julia Chinn. Instead the couple exchanged vows at a local church with a wedding celebration organized by the enslaved people at his family’s plantation in Great Crossing, according to Miriam Biskin, who wrote about Chinn decades ago.

Chinn died nearly four years before Johnson took office. But because of controversy over her, Johnson is the only vice president in American history who failed to receive enough electoral votes to be elected. The Senate voted him into office.

The couple’s story is complicated and fraught, historians say. As an enslaved woman, Chinn could not consent to a relationship, and there’s no record of how she regarded him. Though she wrote to Johnson during his lengthy absences from Kentucky, the letters didn’t survive.

Amrita Chakrabarti Myers, who is working on a book about Chinn, wrote about the hurdles in a blog post for the Association of Black Women Historians.

“While doing my research, I was struck by how Julia had been erased from the history books,” wrote Myers, a history professor at Indiana University. “Nobody knew who she was. The truth is that Julia (and Richard) are both victims of legacies of enslavement, interracial sex, and silence around black women’s histories.”

youtube

Johnson’s life is far better documented.

He was elected as a Democrat to the state legislature in 1802 and to Congress in 1806. The folksy, handsome Kentuckian gained a reputation as a champion of the common man.

Back home in Great Crossing, he fathered a child with a local seamstress, but didn’t marry her when his parents objected, according to the biography “The Life and Times of Colonel Richard M. Johnson of Kentucky.” Then, in about 1811, Johnson, 31, turned to Chinn, 21, who had been enslaved at Blue Spring Plantation since childhood.

Johnson called Chinn “my bride.” His “great pleasure was to sit by the fireplace and listen to Julia as she played on the pianoforte,” Biskin wrote in her account.

The couple soon had two daughters, Imogene and Adaline. Johnson gave his daughters his last name and openly raised them as his children.

Johnson became a national hero during the War of 1812. At the Battle of the Thames in Canada, he led a horseback attack on the British and their Native American allies. He was shot five times but kept fighting. During the battle, the Shawnee chief Tecumseh was killed.

In 1819, “Colonel Dick” was elected to the U.S. Senate. When he was away in Washington for long periods, he left Chinn in charge of the 2,000-acre plantation and told his White employees that they should “act with the same propriety as if I were home.”

Chinn’s status was unique.

While enslaved women wore simple cotton dresses, Chinn’s wardrobe “included fancy dresses that turned heads when Richard hosted parties,” Christina Snyder wrote in her book “Great Crossings: Indians, Settlers & Slaves in the Age of Jackson.”

In 1825, Chinn and Johnson hosted the Marquis de Lafayette during his return to America.

In the mid-1820s, Johnson opened on his plantation the Choctaw Academy, a federally funded boarding school for Native Americans. He hired a local Baptist minister as director. Chinn ran the academy’s medical ward.

“Julia is as good as one half the physicians, where the complaint is not dangerous,” Johnson wrote in a letter. He paid the academy’s director extra to educate their daughters “for a future as free women.”

Johnson tried to advance his daughters in local society, and both would later marry White men. But when he spoke at a local July Fourth celebration, the Lexington Observer reported, prominent White citizens wouldn’t let Adaline sit with them in the pavilion. Johnson sent his daughter to his carriage, rushed through his speech and then angrily drove away.

When Johnson’s father died, he willed ownership of Chinn to his son. He never freed his common-law wife.

“Whatever power Chinn had was dependent on the will and the whims of a White man who legally owned her,” Snyder wrote.

Then, in 1833, Chinn died of cholera. It’s unclear where she is buried.

Johnson went on to even greater national prominence.

In 1836, President Andrew Jackson backed Vice President Martin Van Buren as his successor. At Jackson’s urging, Van Buren — a fancy dresser who had never fought in war — picked war hero Johnson as his running mate. Nobody knew how the Shawnees’ chief was slain in the War of 1812, but Johnson’s campaign slogan was, “Rumpsey, Dumpsey. Johnson Killed Tecumseh.”

Johnson’s relationship with Chinn became a campaign issue. Southern newspapers denounced him as “the great Amalgamationist.” A mocking cartoon showed a distraught Johnson with a hand over his face bewailing “the scurrilous attacks on the Mother of my Children.”

This political cartoon was a racist attack on Johnson because of his relationship with Julia Chinn. (Library of Congress)

Van Buren won the election, but Johnson’s 147 electoral votes were one short of what he needed to be elected. Virginia’s electors refused to vote for him. It was the only time Congress chose a vice president.

When Van Buren ran for reelection in 1840, Democrats declined to nominate Johnson at their Baltimore convention. It is the only time a party didn’t pick any vice-presidential candidate. The spelling-challenged Jackson warned that Johnson would be a “dead wait” on the ticket.

“Old Dick” still ended up being the leading choice and campaigned around the country wearing his trademark red vest. But Van Buren lost to Johnson’s former commanding officer, Gen. William Henry Harrison.

Johnson never remarried, but he reportedly had sexual relationships with other enslaved women who couldn’t consent to them.

The former vice president won a final election to the Kentucky legislature in 1850, but died a short time later at the age of 70.

His brothers laid claim to his estate at the expense of his surviving daughter, Imogene, who was married to a White man named Daniel Pence.

“At some point in the early twentieth century,” Myers wrote, “perhaps because of heightened fears of racism during the Jim Crow era, members of Imogene Johnson Pence’s line, already living as white people, chose to stop telling their children that they were descended from Richard Mentor Johnson … and his black wife. It wasn’t until the late 20th century that younger Pences, by then already in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, began discovering the truth of their heritage.”

#He Became the Nation’s Ninth Vice President. She Was His Enslaved Wife.#enslaved people #Richard Johnson #Julia Chinn #Youtube

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morathicain · 9 months

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What the plot - prompts

another day, another prompt:

whoever finds the words I didn’t manage to include wins ... something? XD Have fun! ^^

“I’m here for the boob job”, I said, for good measures for what felt like the twentieth time. The man in front of me who was supposed to bring me to my room to change didn’t even react this time. What the fuck?

“Here”, I jogged forward until I was next to him and lifted the letter I’d gotten for my doctor’s appointment, “It says I have my surgery today.”

Only a short side glance was the result and he seemed to walk even faster. I stopped. This was ridiculous, for real. I’d come here to this place because my doctor had recommended it and I had a letter which should have ensured that I’d get what I wanted. Which was a life without boobs. The iron gates and the stone basilisk on top of the old wall had seemed suspicious already but I was desperate, okay? It wasn’t as if getting your tits removed was as easy as getting botox injected! Also and to be fair, teenage me was into the style and vibe of the place, even if another, older and more boring part of me told me to scram. Which I hadn’t done, of course, or I wouldn’t be here, on the inside of this mansion, still haunted by the eyes of the basilisk statue from outside. A shudder ran down my spine and I hugged myself even tighter. Maybe it still wasn’t too late to run. Maybe I could still make it outside alive. Maybe ... A few meters in front of me, the man who looked like a butler with his too straight back and his emotionless face, had stopped. Slowly, he turned his head towards me.

“This way, Sir. We have arrived.”

“We have?”, I snorted, “Are you sure?”

Without reacting to my sarcasm, he opened the door and held it, waiting for me to enter. But I wouldn’t, right? Because I wasn’t insane and stupid, right? So why then, were my legs moving? Why was I getting closer to the door and the room behind it, although I knew it was a bad choice? Did they have a siren in this place, luring people in? The idea made me actually stop. A basilisk, a butler and a siren? How ridiculous and also intriguing! Seriously, who else would be able to tell such a story? Only me, if I’d survive it. But that didn’t seem to be my own decision any longer. Slowly, I started walking again, almost curious now what would await me behind that door. Sweeney Todd? Willy Wonka? Jurrassic World? By the time I arrived, I was chuckling and snorting, sorting through other old childhood movies that might work best. Somehow it seemed all more realistic than to get surgery. What I didn’t expect though, was to find a sterile room with a single bed with green covers and cold operation tables next to it.

What?

A man with a moustache was standing next to it, smiling at me with the vibe of a 18th century doctor, ready to treat women for hysteria.

“Sir.”

“I’m full of poison.”

“What?”

He seemed genuinely confused, which made two of us.

“I’m full of poison”, I said again, “You better not operate on me!”

He laughed and pointed at the bed, his big moustache vibrating from his laughter. So, no Willy Wonka and no Sweeney Todd but what was the name on the Kentucky Fried Chicken containers again?

“Colonel Sanders.”

What?

“What?!”

He smiled: “His name is Colonel Sanders.”

“Did you read my mind?”

“You’re a very loud thinker.”

Well ... okay. I couldn’t argue with that for sure, even if I wanted to, just on principle.

He waved me closer again and this time I followed his invitation, already in too deep.

“Do you have a siren here?”

“A siren?”, He helped me into the bed and took the letter from me, reading it with more attention than I would have expected before turning back to me with his laughing moustache, “No. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, ha”, I laughed helplessly, “Because I seem to walk further even though I wanted to go home.”

I didn’t know if this was a dangerous remark to make but it couldn’t make any difference now, right? Either I’d accidentally ended up in Frankenstein’s workshop or this was the most extravagant but legit doctor I had ever met. So far, he was still smiling though.

“No”, he said and pushed me onto my back gently, “No sirens.”

With very deliberate movements, he injected something in me which made me dizzy almost instantly.

“It’s not sirens”, he said as I slowly drifted asleep, wondering why I hadn’t even been required to take off my clothes, “The army is calling for you my lord.”

The noise was the first thing that penetrated the fog around my mind. Loud and nasty noise of metal against metal, making my ears ring and hurt, probably adding to my Tinnitus. The second thing was the smell of leather and earth, more comfortable but equally penetrating.

“My lord?”

Somehow I knew instinctively that I’d been the one getting addressed and finally managed to pry my eyes open. The sight which greeted me was so absurd, I new it had to be real. There was a skeleton in front of me and it was moving. It even wore a helmet and chest armor. The teeth were crooked and the bone which should be the right upper arm, had a deep cut in it. The skeleton was kneeling in front of me, somehow managing an almost concerned look. In the background, I could see a tent which covered us and probably kept even more noise and smell away.

“My lord.”

“Yes?”

Was this a smile?

“You’re awake!”

“Apparently?”

Slowly I pushed myself up into a sitting position, my head dizzy with memories I wasn’t sure were true. Where was I?

“Our lord told me you might be confused after your journey and I should explain it all to you.”

“Our lord?”

The skeleton nodded obediently and I was sure I had had a stroke.

“Our lord and saviour Draxas from the land of the stones!”

Which explained nothing at all.

“And where am I?”

Despite having no lungs, the skeleton took a deep, fake breath: “You, my lord, are now in the land of the volcanoes, ready to fight the army of the Marsupials.”

How should I even imagine that?

“And with me fights ...”

“The army of the skeletons of course!”, It said with a bony hand covering its bony chest. Of course.

A sudden thought made me look down but there was still flesh covering my thighs and my hips and my arms and my hands and ... I moved my arms and a slight pain twinged my chest, the part where my boobs had been. Wait ...

“Our lord told me you’re fully healed, there is no need to be afraid.”

“He did?”

Doctor Moustache came back into my mind and I felt even more light headed than before. Of course. Of course he had fulfilled my one wish and sent me into a different realm all at once. The wildest emotions started hitting me, from tearful joy to stunning fear.

“Yes”, the skeleton confirmed proudly and I decided I needed to know a name. A name and a mission. If I’d received top surgery without any pain, I could at least give something. Even if it was to lead an army of skeletons into a war. Against Marsupials. Apparently. I got up to stand properly in front of the skeleton who was slightly smaller than I was. Or maybe it was because of all the missing flesh?

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Lala, Sir, my lord.”

“Lala.”

“Yes.”

It took me a second to calm myself down.

“Well then”, I coughed and stretched out my hand to take bony fingers between mine, “It will be my honour to fight by your side Lala.”

“As it will be mine”, Lala said proudly and bowed, “I’ll tell the people to get ready in ten.”

“Ten what?”

“Ten minutes, my lord.”

And so it came, that upon receiving top surgery and losing my boobs, I had become the lord of the skeletons, leading them into a war against Marsupials.

Successfully, I should say.

And I would continue to do so.

The End

#wtp prompts #morathicain writing #skeleton army #I GUESS #crack

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gatekeeper-watchman · 6 months

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Our National Healthcare

I have discussed this subject before; but, especially in light of current events, I would like to discuss it again today–perhaps, even more candidly. I’ll be honest with you. If I were a member of Congress when the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (PPACA), aka Obama Care, was passed, I would be angry with rejectionists like the illustrious Kentucky Colonel, Mitch McConnell. That I would have voted for that bill without hesitation. Even though, however, I was, in all honesty, really not in favor of it. I say to you, as I have said to others, the law is an exercise in self-gratification. I told my friends then; and, I also, wrote President Obama, telling him that, too (He, eventually, thanked me for my letter but didn’t mention the subject of healthcare). Today, four years later, I feel even more negative toward it. This law has good intentions, but it fails the people of this country. I see a train wreck coming. It is coming, and it’s going to hit hard. When it does, the American people are going to be mad as a swarm of bees. Mark my words. Don’t forget I said it, Mister Politician.

It is anything but affordable for the masses of the people; it is confusing, bordering on being unintelligible to most; and it is so complicated and expensive, that it could drive all of us, people, and government into bankruptcy. In tackling our problem of healthcare, President Obama made the same mistake as President Clinton; in his effort to be conciliatory and bipartisan with the Republican Party, he invited the major stakeholders in the medical-industrial complex to the negotiating table, assuming that consensus there would bring reform. Who are those stakeholders? They are the pharmaceutical, hospital, physician, and insurance industries–the primary focus of all of them being profits, with the interests of the people being last on their list. They not only fought the administration on this, they fought within against themselves. I ask you. Who ever heard of the customer or client coming in first on the list of any insurance company? Really!

I submit to you that healthcare is not a commodity like oil, sugar, pork bellies, credit default swaps, housing, automobiles, and so on. Healthcare is not adaptable to or compatible with the free market (a myth at best) in any way, shape, or form. Who besides the most skilled can intelligently evaluate an insurance policy; who but the most skilled physicians can evaluate the abilities of a doctor; when you need to go to the hospital, how often is it you who has the decisive choice as to where to go; and, lastly, who of you is able and has the expertise to knowledgeably determine the proper drugs you should take when you are ill? I am certainly not qualified, and neither are almost all of us.

Healthcare is a need of all of us–a need we share in common. Accordingly, it should be governed in common. Healthcare is our RIGHT. How do I justify that? It is stated as such in our Declaration of Independence. We all have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. We should be allowed to have and enjoy that right. Furthermore, we require a system that will work, one we can afford, and one for which we can pay (Surely no one thinks it can be free). We also require a single-payer, national healthcare system modeled after Medicare with, like the VA, the ability to negotiate prices.

Immediately! I hear someone cry socialism. In this individual instance, why should you care if it works? As one person once said, “It doesn’t matter if the cat is white or the cat is black. The cat we want is the one that catches Mice” (or something like that). A single-payer healthcare system will catch mice. If we were talking about the whole country going socialist, we would need, I would think, to sit down and have a long talk about the matter–a very long talk. In this instance, however, no one is even thinking about that. We already know socialism has failed as a whole, so this isn’t even the subject of the matter. We require a system that works for us.

Let me tell you about that word, socialism. The word socialism is inflammatory; used, primarily, to arouse and anger people to influence their minds in one direction or another. To most people, it is something bad, from which one will turn away with rejection. We hear it every day from those who don’t believe in government, usually some form of anarchists. It often comes from those who want to control your mind and lead you in the direction they want you to go. Do you need that kind of person?

I want to call your attention to a fact of the matter. When Medicare was made into law in the 1960s, it was up and running in a year. The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (PPACA) was passed four years ago and still is not working, some provisions of which are being moved back even now, as we speak. Medicare, on the other hand, has been in effect for over forty years and working just fine even now. How about that? Our illustrious politicians haven’t been willing to even so much as give single-payer national healthcare a national hearing for consideration. Is that Democracy?

How should we pay for such a plan? I have given a lot of thought to the matter and changed my mind from when I first wrote about “single payer”. Please allow me to bring another issue into the picture, Social Security. This safety net, also, is moving forward to the day when our government allows it to become a national crisis. Social Security, to the best of my knowledge, is one of the most efficient, well-run programs, with the lowest costs of administration of any other government program. A big reason for this success is that the fund is “stand-alone”, “self-funding”, and not included in our general budget. In this way, it is highly controlled and does not affect our national deficit. Our biggest problem with financing this program is, in my mind, five-fold. The recession in our economy, the retirement of our baby boom generation, and our massive unemployment. Whereas, in the past we had more people paying than those receiving benefits, we now have less paying in-I am told only three paying in now for twelve receiving. The aging of our people, and increasing disabled coming onto the rolls. Payments into this fund have to be increased, and cutting benefits and cost of living adjustments is unacceptable. Having said that, raising payroll taxes on employers and employees (the money is going to have to come from somewhere) will create additional hardship and political tensions no one needs or can stand just now.

Let’s now get back to the question (or issue) of single-payer healthcare. It, too, must be financed. Again, it’s not free. It will be expensive, but it will be a lot less expensive than Obamacare–a lot less. I might, also, call your attention to the fact we are not feeling the full pain of even our current healthcare expenses, as exaggerated as they are. We are paying for a lot of them “on the cuff”–it’s in our deficit. But I digress. We should administer single-payer healthcare in the same manner as we do Social Security, with a stand-alone fund into which go all receipts and out of which go all disbursements. In no way should the accounting for healthcare be mingled with the accounting for government. In no way should healthcare funding be allowed to affect our deficit. Tax rates for payments into both the healthcare and the Social Security funds should be automatically adjusted annually for any expense overruns or surpluses. So, I am not confused, in no way should our stand-alone healthcare fund be co-mingled with our Social Security fund. The accounting for both must be kept completely separate and open to the public.

Now, let’s get to the question for which you have been so patiently waiting (if we have come this far, and you are still with me, you must be patient). How should we pay for this? I believe we should create two separate and apart national Federal Sales Taxes, a separate sales tax for each fund. For states that presently have sales taxes, we should take advantage of their systems to prevent duplication in costs, using them for collection. For states without sales taxes, currently, they should set up a system and be reimbursed by the government for collection. These taxes should be itemized separately on every sales receipt, separate from those of the state.

In conclusion, what will we accomplish by all this?

We will have a national single-payer cradle-to-the-grave healthcare system, the cost of which will be much more acceptable to the taxpayer.

We should save trillions of dollars by eliminating insurance profits and reducing healthcare costs by allowing the government to negotiate prices (this suggestion presumes that healthcare remains private, and the government is the single-payer). Additional savings should, also, be realized by increased efficiencies.

Employer and employee payroll taxes will be eliminated, a boon to both and a stimulus to the economy.

Healthcare will no longer be a “monkey” on the back of business.

The pressure for reduced work weeks will be eliminated.

Uncertainty of the future will be reduced and businesses will be better able to plan.

The adjustments and uncertainty surrounding both healthcare and Social Security will be resolved, and the tax rates will be adjusted annually.

The immense and horrendous worry by our people will be significantly reduced.

And last, but not least, hopefully our people will be more at ease and stable.

Let’s quit fighting. Let’s quit arguing, bickering and quit the politicking and put our country first. We must, pull together and get the job done and stop acting like children. Let us implement single-payer healthcare and protect our Social Security. This is just one more step in taking back our country from the “power elite”, our Shadow Government. Get with your representatives today. Unlike those of whom we spoke, above, we can’t pay them off, but we can let them know where we stand and how we vote. Respectfully, From: Steven P. Miller @ParkermillerQ, gatekeeperwatchman.org Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups Thursday, November 2, 2023, Jacksonville, Florida., USA. X ... @ParkermillerQ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sparkermiller.JAX.FL.USA, Instagram: steven_parker_miller_1956, #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller, #Eldermiller1981

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96thdayofrage · 2 years

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Charles Young, the first Black US Army colonel whose groundbreaking military career was hampered a century ago by the racism of the era, was posthumously promoted on Friday to brigadier general.

Young's promotion retroactively makes him the first Black American recognized with that rank, the Army said.

The honorary designation, following years of efforts to posthumously promote him, was the focus of an official promotion ceremony at the United States Military Academy at West Point on Friday.

After Young was passed over for promotion before his death in 1922, a Black service member wouldn't join the general officers rank in the Army until Benjamin Davis Sr. was promoted to brigadier general in 1940.

Young's "promotion today to brigadier general has been a long time delayed, but fortunately for all of us no longer denied," Under Secretary of the Army Gabe Camarillo said Friday in remarks during the ceremony. Camarillo also praised Young as a "model leader" and called his legacy "frankly inspiring."

Members of Young's family were in attendance at the ceremony, including his great niece Renotta Young, who was presented with Young's posthumous honorary promotion order and certificate, a gold-plated leather belt that general officers wear, and a one-star general officer flag.

"Charles Young weathered social isolation not only at West Point but throughout his military and National Parks career," Renotta Young recalled in a speech Friday, adding that despite the hardships Young faced, he "managed to love" the American experiment.

"While he felt the sharp sting of discriminatory treatment from his classmates here at West Point, at various points in his career from his superiors also, he did not consign all of White America to the racist side of the ledger," she added.

Renotta Young told CNN it's taken half a century to get her uncle promoted to brigadier general, an effort largely driven by her family and the Omega Psi Phi Fraternity, Inc. in which Young is an honorary member.

"Even though it was long overdue, this was the time it happened, and I think this is the right time for folks to communicate the legacy of his life and what he has done for our country," she told CNN.

Racism blocked Young's career path

Born in 1864 in May's Lick, Kentucky, to enslaved parents, Young graduated from high school with honors and became an elementary school teacher for two years. After encouragement from his father, Young took entrance exams for West Point but was not selected to attend despite having the second highest score. It wasn't until a candidate dropped out the following year that Young received his acceptance letter and became the ninth Black attendee of the academy in 1884. During his time at the academy, he faced racism from instructors and fellow cadets but persevered. In 1889, he became the third Black graduate from the academy following Henry Ossian Flipper and John Hanks Alexander.

After graduating from the academy, it was three months before he received an assignment because at the time, Black officers were not allowed to command White troops, according to his National Park Service biography. He was commissioned as a second lieutenant and assigned to the Ninth Cavalry in Fort Robinson, Nebraska, and Fort Duchesne, Utah, a regiment of the "Buffalo Soldiers." The Buffalo Soldiers were regiments of Black soldiers who played a key role in the US' expansion of the West and were initially commanded by White officers. They also served as some of the first national park rangers and protected parks from poachers.

Young would break another barrier in 1903 when he became the first Black national park superintendent after he and his troops were assigned to manage Sequoia National Park in northern California. He was the first Black military attaché, became the first military attaché to Haiti and the Dominican Republic on the island of Hispaniola in 1904, and was appointed military attaché to Liberia in 1912. He also taught military sciences and tactics at Wilberforce University in Ohio in between his military duties.

Young received additional promotions during his military career, including major in 1912 and lieutenant colonel in 1916, according to NPS. He was medically retired in July 1917 and was promoted to colonel, the first Black man to reach that rank.

At the time, as he wrote to his longtime friend and civil rights activist W.E.B. DuBois, he was skeptical of the reasoning for the medical retirement, as he insisted he was in fine health and wanted to continue with his active service.

He was later recalled to helped train Black soldiers during World War I and in 1920, Young was sent back as military attaché in Liberia. While on a research expedition in Nigeria, Young became ill and died on January 8, 1922. After his death, his body was repatriated to the US and was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

Young's legacy grew in the century after his death. The Charles Young Buffalo Soldiers National Monument was established in 2013 in Wilberforce, Ohio, and in February 2020, Kentucky Gov. Andy Beshear, a Democrat, posthumously promoted Young to brigadier general in the Kentucky National Guard and sent a letter to President Joe Biden requesting he recognize Young with the promotion at the federal level. In November 2021, Under Secretary of Defense Gilbert Cisnero Jr. informed the House and Senate armed service committees that he had approved Young's honorary promotion.

It was an attempt to address a long-running stain on the history of the US Army and to honor a man who, as memorialized by DuBois, was a "triumph of tragedy."

"No one ever knew the truth about the Hell he went through at West Point," DuBois wrote in an edition of the NAACP's "The Crisis" publication a month after Young's death.

"He was one of the few men I know who literally turned the other cheek with Jesus Christ," DuBois wrote. "He was laughed at for it and his own people chided him bitterly, yet he persisted. When a white Southern pigmy at West Point protested at taking food from a dish passed first to Young, Young passed it to him first and afterward to himself. When officers of inferior rank refused to salute a ‘n***er,' he saluted them. Seldom did he lose his temper, seldom complain."

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90363462 · 1 year

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The Downfall Of Allensworth: How Racism And Lies Destroyed A Black Town In California

Here is the amazing and tragic story of Allensworth, the only California town to be founded, financed, and governed by Black people.

Source: creative services / iOne Digital

Almost 70 miles south of Fresno, California, tucked away in the small county of Tulare is a tiny state park. Although it may not look like much, it was once a true testament to Black American resilience.

MORE: The Black Town Under Lake Martin: A Father & Son’s Dream Of Greatness

How do you get a whole race of people to uplift themselves after years of persecution?

This was the very question Colonel Allen Allensworth asked himself before he embarked on one of the most important journeys in African American history–to build the first Black self-sufficient town in California.

Sadly, that journey would never get to live up to its full potential. Like so many other symbols of Black excellence in the early 1900s, Allensworth’s dream would be poisoned by racism’s venomous sting.

Colonel Allensworth was an American hero in every sense of the word and his story doesn’t get told nearly enough.

But this is Black Folklore, where we dive into America’s past to tell lesser-known Black stories that touch the soul. And yes, many of our stories end in tragedy, but that doesn’t make them any less inspiring.

There’s value in understanding what came before you.

Source: Fresno Bee / Getty

In 1842, Allen Allensworth was born a slave in Louisville, Kentucky, twenty years before the start of the Civil War.

The young boy would spend his entire childhood the property of a white slave owner.

Slaves in Kentucky were forbidden from education in fear of rebellion or uprising. In secret, Allensworth would master the English language, learning to read and write and cultivate a love for learning. But the only way he would truly be able to express this newfound love was to escape his bondage.

The first time Allen Allensworth tried to escape slavery he failed miserably. Although there is no record of his escape, there are a few bread crumbs from history we can follow to paint a picture.

In 1806, the Louisville Police department began to take shape in the form of five ‘watchmen’ appointed by the town’s trustees. In the south police forces, we created solely to preserve the system of slavery. It isn’t out of the question to believe that Allensworth was caught by the police and returned to his slave owner, who probably greeted him with a few lashings from the whip. But it wouldn’t deter Allensworth.

The start of the Civil War in 1861 would give him the opportunity he needed to run and never look back. He escaped slavery in 1862, seeking refuge behind Union lines. For the next several months, Allensworth would work as a civilian nurse for the 44th Illinois volunteer Infantry, until 1863 when become a seaman in the Union Navy serving on gunboats. When he left the Navy in 1865 with the rank of first-class petty officer, Allensworth leaned into the word of God and enrolled at Roger Williams University to study theology. While learning how to spread the gospel, he also met and married the love of his life, Josephine Leavell.

After becoming an ordained minister, Allensworth jumped right into the pulpit. He began giving serval sermons around his hometown of Louisville and became an instant success. The community began to look up to him and it propelled him into politics. In 1880 and 1884, Allensworth would represent Kentucky as one of their delegates to the Republic National convention.

Allensworth’s life had changed so much since his time in the Navy, but his heart was still with the soldiers. In 1882 he was tasked to help recruit Black chaplains for the all-Black military units. Instead of recruiting Black pastors, Allensworth took the position himself. He believed as a chaplain he could make the lives of the average Black soldier much better. For twenty years, Allensworth taught Black soldiers about spiritual health and educational well-being. He was only the second African American, after Henry Plummer, named to serve as a U.S. Army Chaplain. In 1906 he retired from the Army as the highest-ranked Black man in the U.S. Armed Forces.

Retirement didn’t slow Allensworth down one bit. After his second stint in the army, the former slave turned Colonel traveled the U.S. lecturing Blacks on the importance of self-help programs. Like Booker T. Washington, Allensworth believed Blacks in America needed to become more self-sufficient.

But, if Blacks were going to stand on their own in America, they needed a safe place to do so–Allensworth wanted to provide that.

Following his own advice, he moved to Los Angeles with his family in search of California. Allensworth believed he could build a town dedicated to the prosperity of Black Americans. There weren’t many places Black people could live that allowed them to escape the clutches of Jim Crown, even in the north. But California was a new land, with hope and opportunity. All Allensworth needed now was a team.

Insert William Payne, a professor at West Virginia Colored Institute, Dr, William H. Peck, a Los Angeles minister, and J.W. Palmer, a Nevada miner.

Source: Fresno Bee / Getty

On August 3, 1908, the all-Black town of Solito was born. Later that year the townspeople would change the name to Allensworth in honor of its most important founder. The town of Allensworth was a true gem and was far ahead of its time. It not only had a depot connection on the Santa Fe Railroad but also had an official town government called the Allensworth Progressive Association. The town held elections, as well as regularly scheduled town meetings. Allensworth was also a voting precinct and had its own school district, with a local school built with money raised by the community. The school included students from elementary to high school.

Since Allensworth prided itself on the importance of education, the town’s extracurricular activities were centered around the advancement of the Black mind. The town had a Women’s Improvement League and boasted a Debating Society, a Theatre Club, and a Glee Club.

The town thrived off of its agriculture. Allensworth’s economy was built around the farmers who lived in the surrounding areas. Allensworth had serval businesses including a bakery, a drug store, a barbershop, a machine shop, as well as a hotel.

Unfortunately, the rest of this story is more of a Greek tragedy than it is a fairytale.

In 1914, Allen Allensworth was killed after he was hit by a motorcycle during a trip to Los Angeles. The town was devastated but continued to prosper.

By the 1920s there were more than 300 residents that lived in Allensworth. It attracted Black soldiers, Black educators, and Black thinkers from all over the country.

But the town of Allensworth never made it.

Its biggest downfall, being a Black self-sufficient town in a white racist country.

For Allensworth to continue to blossom, it needed support from the surrounding white establishments, but that was far from the case.

The Pacific Farming Company controlled most of the land sales in the state. They frequently sold plots of land to Blacks at inflated prices and even refused land sales to Blacks after Allensworth began to boom.

The Pacific Water Company lied to Allensworth’s elected officials, promising the town the addition of water wells due to the lack of sustainable water sources. Instead of adding the water wells in Allensworth, they installed the wells in the neighboring white town, leaving Allensworth’s unusable.

Townspeople pleaded with the company to keep their promises and add the necessary wells, but the Pacific Water Company ignored their pleas. The long legal battle would end in a loss for the townspeople.

Since agriculture was so important to the way of life in Allensworth, once the water went, so did the residents.

The Santa Fe Railroad would also follow suit in helping to quickly destroy the popular Black town of Allensworth. They suspended the connecting rail line and diverted it to a neighboring all-white town.

With no water to farm and no transportation to grow, Allensworth ultimately became a ghost town, gone forever but most certainly not forgotten.

Today, in the place that once represented Black resilience, sits the Colonel Allensworth State Historic Park. The park works to continue the legacy of Allensworth and the ideals that Allen lived by. The organization Friends Of Allensworth also allows you to help promote the town’s legacy. It was created to raise awareness of the town of Allensworth, as well as to grow support for the park. If you would like to support the park click here.

How do you get a whole race of people to uplift themselves after years of persecution? You give them direction and show them anything can be achieved with determination and confidence in yourself. That was Colonel Allensworth’s true legacy

“Progress in human affairs is more often a pull than a push, surging forward of the exceptional man, and the lifting of his duller brethren slowly and painfully to his vantage-ground.” –W.E.B. Du Bois

SEE ALSO:

The Legend Of O.T. Jackson And The Black Ghost Town Of Dearfield, Colorado

There’s A Black Village Under Central Park That Was Founded By Alexander Hamilton’s Secret Black Son

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luciennelutrae · 1 year

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Here’s my Year in Review Tier List that I put together for today’s debut stream! The tiers are as follows: Foundational to Lucian’s Stream - Chrono Trigger, Disco Elysium, Inscryption, Kentucky Route Zero, Live A Live, Outer Wilds, Road 96 Might Replay - I Love You Colonel Sanders, Komorebi, The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe, Starshifter, The Flame in the Flood Will Play Other Series Entries - Final Fantasy XV, Fuga: Melodies of Steel, Life is Strange, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, Sam & Max Season 1, Tales of Symphonia, Tales of Vesperia, Tesla Effect - A Tex Murphy Adventure A Good Collab - Overcooked! 2 Saved My Stream Once - Tunic Fun With Viewers - Marlbes on Stream, Super Animal Royale Not a Game, Still a Good Time - Art, Music Good, but Won’t Come Back to Anytime Soon - Cult of the Lamb, Hatoful Boyfriend, Killer7, Totally Accurate Battle Simulator, Wallace & Gromit’s Grand Adventures Not Really Feeling It - Psycho-Pass: Mandatory Happiness Crashed my Stream, Never Again While Live - Fallout: New Vegas

#twitch streamer #year in review

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lboogie1906 · 21 days

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Lieutenant Colonel Rev. Allen Allensworth (April 7, 1842 – September 14, 1914) was a chaplain, colonel, city founder, and theologian. Born enslaved in Kentucky, he escaped during the American Civil War by joining the 44th Illinois Volunteers as a Union soldier. After being ordained as a Baptist minister, he worked as a teacher, led several churches, and was appointed as a chaplain in the Army. In 1886, he gained appointment as a military chaplain to a unit of Buffalo Soldiers in the West, becoming the first African American to reach the rank of lieutenant colonel. He served in the Army for 20 years, retiring in 1906.

He was a prolific public speaker, embarking on a speaking tour to inspire African American youth. His lectures included Five Manly Virtues Exemplified, The Battle of Life and How to Fight It, and Character and How to Read It. While on tour in Pasadena, he met Professor William Payne. In 1908, he, Payne, and a small committee founded Allensworth, California, the first community established, financed, and governed entirely by African Americans. It continues to be restored and maintained as the Colonel Allensworth State Historic Park.

His family accompanied him on assignments in the West, ranging from Fort Bayard, Fort Supply, and Fort Harrison. Josephine Leavell, his wife, played the organ in the fort chapels.

In 1887, he was featured in Men of Mark: Eminent, Progressive, and Rising.

In 1889, while at Fort Bayard, he published the pamphlet Outline of Course of Study, and The Rules Governing Post Schools of Ft. Bayard, N.M., which became a military education standard.

He married musician and activist Josephine Leavell (1877-1914). They met while studying at Roger Williams University. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

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thepradaenchilada · 10 months

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Comedy night in Buda

Still on a rainbow high from the wonderful time I had in Seattle and San Antonio this past weekend! Thanks to everyone who came out to enjoy our Pride Week comedy shows! Tonight I'll be performing at Nate's Big Dog Comedy in Buda, Texas. The lineup includes Sam Castillo, Mike Hudak, and the darkly hilarious Francisco Rincon. Jack Schutze hosts. His shows are always a good time. Hope to see you there!

Photo: Brent Kosadnar

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eviesessays · 1 month

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What is one of the bravest things you've ever done, and what was the outcome?

Bravery is somewhat like fame in that it is not necessarily a choice but rather something thrust in one’s path. I think my bravest decision meets that criterion.

When we met I thought Jay Joss’ drinking was a measure of sophistication. I did not know a single malt Scotch from Kentucky bourbon other than the geographic difference. I had no penchant for either. I certainly knew the ravages of alcohol abuse but I was too close to the problem and later too humiliated to admit it. I was married to an alcoholic. I had forgiven him many times with great expectations that things would change. They never did.

Jay joined a rugby club and his drinking and partying escalated. He crashed our GTO coming home from a game in Baltimore. He was with a young unmarried woman. I was home with the children since Peter was the last of the four to get chicken pox. Not long after that, Jay crashed my Triumph into the 14th Street bridge. He was drunk on both occasions. Our mortgage was in arrears. Our life was in chaos. The children were reluctant to have friends spend the night concerned that he might come crashing in. I could not subject my children to this humiliation. I sought legal advice. Jay was advised he could no longer come to the house except to visit the children. I decided I would divorce Jay Joss before exposing my children to any more of his incivilities. I cannot claim bravery in that decision as I felt there was just no other reasonable alternative.

We were divorced in 1972. I knew there was no other reasonable choice to be made. Maryland required that people seeking divorce should live apart for 18 months prior to being granted a divorce and Jay had been missing for much longer. Peter was 8 years old at the time and had not seen his father in years. Our divorce agreement stated that Jay could see the children at any time provided he was sober and it was their normal waking hours. He paid one visit unannounced. It was the day after Robin’s 10th birthday. Her party had been the day before. That was his only visit to see the children.

His boss once called to ask of Jay’s well being and whereabouts. At that time Jay had not been home for close to a year. His boss expressed concern about our finances and thereafter arranged for our agreed support to come directly from his payroll office. That was most helpful.

I joined the Episcopal church near our home. There I met Philip Miller Pahl who was a Lt. Colonel in the Air Force. He graduated from Annapolis ad always stood at attention. He sang in the choir and served on the vestry. He too was divorced. Phil seemed like the paragon of propriety. He stood straight and did everything in moderation including his use of alcohol.

We married in 1972. We were transferred to the Boston area and enjoyed being New Englanders for the most part. Heather was entering 11th grade and decided to combine her last two years of High School so she could return to the Washington area. We all enjoyed skiing and visiting the endless historical sites in the area. I decided to return to school and pursue my degree in Nursing. Phil played tennis often with a “friend” from church. Life was stable. Phil retired from the Air Force. I completed my Bachelor of Science in Nursing and was granted my degree on Sept. 13, 1984 from Northeaster University in Boston. It was a proud accomplishment. We bought a farm in Warner, NH. My father died in Sioux Lookout on May 24,1985. We moved to the farm in July.

Heather, Jaylyn and Peter all finished college. Robin chose to pursue a career in acting and modeling in New York. This was all accomplished with not one cent of tuition paid by their father. They were marrying and also there was not any financial contribution to any wedding although he attended Peter and Robin’s wedding. He did give Peter and Jennifer a set of breakfast dishes from Crate and Barrel. From a man who could spend his entire paycheck before he got home on payday, he certainly became a conservative spender.

Life was predictable if not exciting. Phil and I lived tandem lives. He could spend an entire Saturday reading the paper. I gardened, took care of the pool and planted a large vegetable garden. At a visit to the ear, nose and throat doctor I was informed that I needed a throat biopsy. It was scheduled for two weeks hence. When I told Phil he advised me that he was going to be in Thailand on business at that time. I told Phil if I had a serious problem I should divorce him as living with him was much like living alone. It was then he told me of the long standing affair with the “friend” from church. That was it. I knew I was not going to stay married to Phil Pahl. It was not a hard decision. I was financially sound. I had a great career at McLean Hospital and was welcomed back. I had many friends in Warner. I was enjoying the arrival of my grandchildren. I loved my life in Warner.

I was quite certain I would never marry again. However I think my attitude about living together prior to marriage has radically changed. Until you have lived with another person you cannot imagine that they will never mow a lawn. You cannot know that their drinking is not debonair but a serious problem. You cannot imagine how lonely life can be with a constant companion that weighs like a millstone. And you cannot imagine the brave decisions that will be required to set these right.

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treadmilltreats · 2 months

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When you name your fears, it puts you in control

This is such a true statement. We all have fears. We are all afraid of something.

You should start by writing down what your fears are. See, when you name your fears, it puts you in control of them. It doesn't seem so overwhelming. We can see them one by one and then come up with a plan to deal with them, one by one.

So many people, myself included, have been stuck in a place of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of failure, fear of being rejected, fear of not being good enough. Fears we acquired from our childhood that we haven't dealt with, voices we still hear that says your not pretty enough, smart enough, your never going to make it, all the voices that make us doubt ourselves.

I was stuck for 24 years in a verbally abusive marriage because of fear.

I was afraid I couldn't support my girls. That I would never again have that lifestyle that I dreamed of as a poor child. That he would do something to me or take my girls away. My own mother didn't think I could make it, so what made me think I could. All these things, all this fear kept me stuck there, miserable and unhappy.

Are you in a job, you hate?

A relationship that you know is no good for you?

Putting up with negative people you know are toxic?

What are you afraid of? Why haven't you moved on?

This is human, to be afraid but we must pull ourselves up and realize when that fear is being detrimental to our health then it's time to leave, to move on, and to disconnect from the things that no longer serve us.

So, let's discuss what the benefits are if you act courageously?

You will do the things you never thought you would.

You will move your life into a happier, peace filled state.

And if you do fail… Well, you will have learned a valuable lesson for the next time.

I love boxing, and I constantly make these references. If you are a boxer and you train and train for a fight and you get into the ring and get your ass handed to you, do you give up? Do you say nope, I'm done, I'm never going back in the ring again?

No, you go back to the gym, you watch the video over and over and see what you could have done better, and to see what you did, that was great. You keep at it until the next time when you come back more confident and kick some ass! But what you never do is give up! You never give up!

We are human, so why is failure so hard to grasp? We fail, we fall down, we make mistakes, Hello! We all do this, so then why is it so hard to admit?

I put out all my failures, all my fuck ups, and all of my bad choices I use to have in men (See I'm putting it out there in past tense and because I have worked at my self esteem) Trust me I've have had plenty. I do this for the whole world to see and guess what? I didn't die from embarrassment. No, I've learned to laugh at myself, to give myself a break. I know I am human, and this shit happens to all of us.

But what I won't do anymore is let fear rule my life, I will try it, and if I fail, okay, I will grab my boxer's mentality and get back up and try again.

If you want to feel better, check out these facts. Thomas Edison was asked by a reporter, "How did it feel to fail 1,000 times?" Edison replied, "I didn't fail 1,000 times. The light bulb was an invention with 1,000 steps."

How about that kind of failure, and yet he didn't see it as a failure, just steps to get to where he needed to go. Now, that is a boxer's mentality for sure. Here are some other "failures"

Colonel Sanders didn't start Kentucky Fried chicken until he was 70!

J.K. Rowling herself said she was the “biggest failure I knew” and credits a lot of her success to her failure.

Michael Jordan didn't make the basketball team.

Stephen King submitted “Carrie” 30 times. King was rejected 30 times.

All of these people and more didn't let fear of failure, fear of not being good enough, keep them stuck there, they persevered over and over, failure after failure to get to their dreams.

So today, my friends remember, do not let fear keep you stuck, learn your lessons, then move on. If you get knocked down, get back up. If you are miserable, change it. This is your life, people! Live it large and in control. All you have to do is to start naming your fears so you can control them and, as I say at the end of every blog….

"Be the change you want to see,"

@TreadmillTreats

#self help #positive #self improvement #mental health #god

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