Dozer, the bulldog

Dozer, the bulldog
Dozer: Spring training is upon us!

Backstage at Reggae on the River, 2017...

Backstage at Reggae on the River, 2017...
The author of Mark's Work

Hollyhocks

Hollyhocks
Why I grow flowers

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.
Air-borne bees

HeadSodBuster and BossLady at the coast

HeadSodBuster and BossLady at the coast
Love is the greatest power.

Beauty abounds!

Beauty abounds!
Crossing the Eel River at French's Camp

If you've seen one butterfly, you've seen 'em all, said no one ever.

If you've seen one butterfly,  you've seen 'em all, said no one ever.
Butter in the fly...

July Jewels

July Jewels
Bees to the Kingdom

My souvenir from Reggae on the River, 2017

My souvenir from Reggae on the River, 2017
Something I have always wanted...

Mahlon Masling Blue

Mahlon Masling Blue
My friend and brother.

Mark's E-mail address

bellspringsmark@gmail.com

Saturday, February 25, 2017

The Sad Emoji

The Sad Emoji

I have been enjoying my self-imposed break from politics, this past month (Monday’s “Hot Air” being the exception), because I never thought I would see the day when Mark’s Work would ever focus on politics. Or if such were the case, it would not be with anger.

Anger is a normal part of the human experience; it’s how anger is manifested that can frequently bear close scrutiny. Levying anger at political adversaries, formerly known as friends, is decidedly not the way to go about it.

Therefore, I have worked to replace my anger with a deep, enduring sadness, while continuing to do the things within my own sphere of influence, that make a difference. One of those things is to reach back into my razor sharp, cottage cheese brain, and relate amusing anecdotes from an earlier time and place.

There are times when the specifics blur and shift, and folks do their darnedest to confuse me with facts, but when I consider the obstacles my brain has to overcome, to even attempt to traverse the minefield of memory, I figure I am doing OK. 
Hell, I can’t help the way Markie dresses me in the morning.

I know the bridges that I burnt last month, when my mood spectrum disorder reared its ugly head, will not be replaced, but at least I gained from the experience. I have a clearer understanding of national politics, as it applies to our small community, and I will benefit from that knowledge. I was outraged at many elements of the developing political scene, but so were millions of others. 

“‘C’est la vie,’-say the old folks; it goes to show that you never can tell…” John Prine

Well, nothing like allowing water to flow under the bridges that no longer exist. Those missing overpasses are a constant reminder that I allowed my emotions to escape, as a result of anger. I would rather be sad than angry.

I mean, I would rather be neither, but that is the easy path: Close the blinds, skip the news out of Washington DC, and keep the bong fired up, the logic being, better the bong than I. I can’t shut the curtains with so much at stake, both from a personal view, and a Constitutional view; thus, I will express my opinions at ongoing developments, with the sad emoji. 

This does not mean that I am no longer outraged, it just means that I am in charge of my own wardrobe now, not Markie.



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