The Kumkuat Korner

October 6th 2019 So a few months ago I posted on Facebook about a neighborhood feral cat who didn't like anyone after its owner died. Since then, almost everyday, Billie Boo has been taking time out of her very important day to come and greet me. Today she did the craziest thing.  Normally in the morning on my way to my car to go to work, she hears me coming and meows to me good morning or walks me to the outside gate. This morning I came down, I hear her meowing and see she's on the second floor of the staircase on the ramparts next to mine which is weird because she never goes up any stairs. I wave tell her good morning and rush off to my car not thinking anything besides it's strange.  Later, coming back home from work Billie Boo is chilling inside the gate relaxing in some rocks. I locked my car and made my way to pet Billie Boo like I always do, then headed off to my apartment which is on the third floor. And guess which sassy feline decided to fol...

Have you ever seen that one movie or read that one book that fills you with so much emotion, you become a wreck by simply the half of the whole thing? The one that makes you feel so wrapped up in the characters, and you grow with them, emotionally attaching yourself to the main character because you feel you understand him... Or her. And then, as you are nearing the end of the story, you are a sobbing mess of emotions so thick you can barely breathe. You feel hot. Your heart pounds in your chest. You feel excitement, sorrow, broken, jealous, angry, content, annoyed, a wild tide of feelings that you can't  .... won't settle on one in particular. You are happy for the ending, but you begin to feel empty because you return, to your body, your own feelings, your own story. You wonder how you would act if it was you in the place of the hero... or villain, or monster. or foe. That feeling that there is something more . An ache in your chest, a sort of hollow...

I am chaos, I destroy all in my path. I am stupidity, I affect everyone. I am devastation, I bring nothing but shattered dreams. I am war, I spill blood in your lands. I am misery, I will bring all of you down. I am anger, I can blind you with buried wrath. I am lust, I make you dizzy with desire. I am the plague, I bestow it to everyone close to me. I am poverty, I can be seen on the street everyday. I am sorrow, I can make you cry. I am greed, I make friends turn against each other. I am hate, I will exist forever. I am depression, I come after happiness. I am fear, I swear to be always with you. I am infidelity, I happen to everyone who want something new. I am starvation, I carry a weightless burden. I am jealousy, I fill your head with doubts. I am human, I make mistakes. Written by Lady Kumkuat

A writer, who was also a philosopher, had to cross a big lake in order to get to his destination. As he waited for the ferryman, he read his notes from his lecture from the day before. During the lecture, a young man stood up and asserted firmly: “The poetry I know are verses and rimes from other times. We have been forced to read and learn them by heart, as the standards of literary good taste in style. Personally, I don’t see any interest in poetry!” His tone of voice was so convincing that Tagore felt that many of his listeners agreed with the young man. There was little time to think of a good retort. Our lecturer recited one of his own poems, stressing very expressively certain words in order to fully regain the attention of his listeners: “With a lute, the beggar’s song for you and me Out of tune, gray, high winds playing eons Sowing pauses and sighs His melody adheres as to absorb your soul and mine We may have borrowed one image or two from other childhoods ...

Okay.   First of of all, the heading is CORRECT . On Wednesday September 10th of 2014 an idiot a mom of a middle school student was heading to her daughter's school to drop off a saxophone and as she neared the school, got distracted because she was running late for some meeting at her work.  WHILE driving, (around 25 miles per hour) she texted her work and BAMN .  Her truck slammed into a school pole (like the ones for handicap rails). The pole went through her truck, sliced into the back of her seat, and impaled her up her butt.  Umm.  Whut? Talk about freak accident. The woman is a live an well, just a bit sore all over her butt, not to mention she received over 40 stitches outside AND inside of her body. "I'm truly a miracle. They said if it gone just a little bit the other way I would have bled out," The woman said. This is exactly why  I don't text and drive.  Cause it can be a such a  pain...

Sometimes, I don't want to be me.  There's nothing good about me. Really, there isn't. I imagine what it would be like in other people's shoes. Sometimes a rich person's expensive shoes.  Sometimes a person without shoes and with only the clothes on their back and a dog named Jelly Bean. Or a person with absolutely no obligations, nothing holding them back from doing anything or nothing at all. I wish I could be anyone. Anyone, but me. I space out, wish I didn't have big hips. big breast, belly rolls, and a flat ass.  Wish my I had a body that everybody wanted or a body that at least got noticed, but certainly not mine. In my head, I rip my soul out of my body and place it on someone beautiful or handsome or plain or ugly.  But I can't.  Because I'm not anybody.  I'm just me. So, I stick to what I have.  I flaunt the things I have plenty of. Wit, snide, intuition, sarcasm, sass,  cleavage.  And shrug off the things that you p...