National Novel Writing Month Pt 10

Where the wave of moonlight glosses

The dim gray sands with light,

Far off by furthest roses

We foot it all the night,

Weaving olden dances

Mingling hands and mingling glances

Till the moon has taken flight;

To and fro we leap

And chase the frothy bubbles,

While the world is full of troubles

And anxious in its sleep.

Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

A couple days pass slowly and Sandra has the boat and girls ready to take a trip. I really need to get away from here for a while. We will take the yacht to hawaii and have fun snorkling, fishing, shopping, and exploring the islands. We can just get away for a while and have fun. After all life is only worth living if you are having fun. Sandra even helps me pack. We take the underground trail out to the road in our electric mini bus. Its a nice vehicle so we don’t have to walk 5 miles to get to the road. We even have a driver so we know we are being pampered. All the luggage gets secured in the back. I always feel less secure in the outer tunnels. They are designed to collapse if we are invaded leaving people trapped or unable to enter. That always makes me feel strange. The tunnels also look like they are only made of dirt which can be concerning in the event of an earthquake. Which is why the buss is designed to withstand a tunnel collapse.

The tunnel ends at a house and shed owned by the colony. Where we load our bags into the SUV a big spacious car that allows us to travel where we want to. We load up and head to the coast. Living in the compound kind of makes me feel like some kind of secret agent. Getting in and out of the place is always a little stressful. We have to be careful and always check cameras to make sure no one is watching us. As we leave the shed and get on the highway some of us keep our heads down so it doesn’t look like as many people are in the car. We regularly repaint the car to change how it looks making it harder to spot. This month it is a brilliant black with glitter in the paint allowing it to sparkle in the sunlight.

    The sunlight dazzles me. The sunlight is so bright and the sky so blue that I am glad that I am not the one driving. I would have frozen just outside the shed and not have been able to drive. How could I have gone so long without seeing the sky? We have been underground for far too long. There are similar murmurs around the car. This was definitely a good idea. I can’t wait to get to the coast and have the sun on my face and wind in my hair.

    We are on the highway in no time.The trees moving swiftly past us. Everyone is quiet and reverent of the open sky. No amount of paint and led lights or even stained glass can ever compete with the fastness of the open sky. I don’t think I could ever truly be at home completely underground.

    A few hours and we are at the dock. Credendo Vides, our yacht, waits for us silently. The saying is latin for in believing one sees. I always loved that saying. We are given a small crew since we don’t know how to operate the craft. This is yet another perk of living in the colony. We also have several branches distributed around the globe. So anyone can take a trip and visit another branch and live there for however long they want. It’s like taking a vacation to go live somewhere else for a bit. Say I want to go skiing in the mountains around colorado but don’t have the cash for such a trip. I can travel with someone or some supplies to the colony and live there taking breaks to ski. That is what we all do. Travel the world colony to colony. We even have a colony on hawaii. Officials and outsiders know it as a sort of hippie commune but it is all part of the colony. We grow all kinds of wonderful tropical fruit there but don’t export it as that would be horrendously expensive. To enjoy the fruits you must travel to that colony. It is one of our few that is completely out in the sunlight.

    The yacht is a pearly white with silver, has a wide deck, a fine crew, and enough to keep us happy for quite a while. The accommodations are not those of a millionaire but they are nothing to sneeze at. This is part of what makes life in the colony so great. People who love the sea are able to spend their lives at sea doing what they love without want or concern about the future. They can live each day as they wish and love what they do. If they no longer want that life, then there are many other good lives to live elsewhere. People can also change what they do quite often and travel far. Everyone does what they do best to the best of their abilities and we all live quite happily because of it.

    The sea breeze is cool and salty in the bright sunlight. The wind is slowly trying to tangle my hair and I feel free. I always feel small standing in front of the ocean so vast, deep, and blue. The waves lap gently at the dock and a few of the crew come to help us move our luggage. I stand in the sunlight allowing the sun to warm my skin like a warming embrace from an old friend.

    Thanking our driver we are soon underway heading to hawaii. We all sit comfortably and watch as people hussle this way and that. Rather unexpectedly a woman brings us a pitcher of margaritas. All the girls rave and go wild. Who doesn’t love someone pampering you without you even asking? Still somehow the depression seeps around the corners and back inside. It is never easy to get over losing someone so important to you. Watching the land disappear out of sight is like slowly losing a piece of myself. I don’t know which part or if i will ever get it back but there is this huge hole in my heart that just keeps getting bigger the farther away we are. Maybe I can find myself again somewhere and be happy again. Maybe this is too soon to move on. Maybe it is not soon enough. Who is to say what is truly right or wrong anyways?

    Sandra wraps me in a hug and asks me what is wrong before I even notice that I am crying. The other girls are staring at me in concern. “I miss him” I manage to sob out and give into Sandra’s embrace.

    “I know” she replies “But there is nothing anyone can do to bring him back. People are investigating to find who did this but that will take time, and I do not want revenge to seep into your heart.”

    “I see him everywhere. Everything reminds me of him. I just keep wondering why someone would do that to him, to me, to the cat? None of us deserved what happened.” We stay like that for some time till the smell of food arouses me from my depressed state.

    We come up on an impressive spread. Complete with grilled fish and watermelon sharks.

National Novel Writing Month Pt 9

    “Lets get out of here. You , me, Alice, Jane, and Ruby like old times.”

    “Sandra, what are you talking about? We are in lockdown.”

    Laughing “When has that ever stopped us before? But if it would make you  happy we can tell Ora that we want to take the boat and spend some time at sea.”

    “That sounds like a great idea. Maybe some sunlight and the open ocean will do me good.”

    “Great, I’ll make the arrangements and we can get packing.”

    I love Sandra, she always has the best ideas. She can get me out of any depression I find myself in. How could I be so fortunate to have such a good friend?

    There is a message on my communicator watch telling me that Ora wants to see me. The little device works off the underground wifi net and allows us to make local calls, send messages, and report broken equipment all conveniently located on the wrist. Sandra couldn’t have had time to talk to her so something must be wrong. Maybe something I set up before I last left broke down and she wants me to fix it. Heading to her rooms I follow the strong scent of jasmine heavy in the warm air. Ora always loved jasmine but she only started planting lots of it on living walls when I told her that the plant has antidepressant properties. She covered the living walls with jasmine and laughed saying she loved making people happy. The pots are all very small as jasmine only blooms when the roots are tightly potbound. Then these beautiful white flowers form in large quantities dripping from the walls. Talk about making a simple corridor beautiful. The bees are always so busy finding all the fresh flowers and making such lovely honey. We keep the colonies confined with a small metal strip that doesn’t allow a queen to escape so we don’t end up with random nests turning up in air vents and such. That would be a pretty bad disaster since some of us are allergic to bee stings but without the possibility of an africanized bee infestation we are just fine. This place is so beautiful and so much planning had to go in to make it a success that it would break my heart if I were ever to lose it. I know so many who feel the same.

    Ora wants to be as close to her people as possible so she has a no front door policy. There is no door on her rooms this way anyone who wishes to can see her unimpeded. White columns covered with passion fruit vines surround the reflecting pool where fish are also grown. Blending beauty and utility she models how we should live our lives surrounded by life and light. Something is really bugging me about the lights though. There is so much more electricity in use right now than could have been possible given the sustainable means in place before I left. The poor gerbil in the turbine must be losing his damn mind by now or something else is going on.

    “Wise one you summoned me.” I say upon seeing her tending one of her plants.

    “Yes Sari, come with me we must talk.” We walk into a curtained doorway and sit at a small wooden table with a beautiful floral patterned ceramic tea set. I move forward and pour the tea offering her the first cup politely waiting to drink till after she has had the first drink. The tea is lemon balm one of my favorites, she must be buttering me up for something.  

    “I need your help with something.” She says setting down the cup. “There is a slight problem with the nuclear reactor.”

    Confused I ask “What nuclear reactor?”

    “The one I had built while you were gone. Solar and wind power could never keep up with our demands without drawing significant attention to us here. Geothermal requires way too much equipment and releases too many toxins into the environment to be seriously considered as usable. Not to mention how fast that kind of equipment degrades all the time. We are too far inland to use tidal. Hydroelectric would harm the native fish in that stream neerbye. We had to go nuclear. We didn’t really have another choice it was either go nuclear or go noticed, and we both know what would happen if the outside world suddenly took an interest in us. They would come and tear the entire colony apart and scatter the children to the wind.”

    “I can’t believe what I am hearing. Yes nuclear power plants can be very safe but how could she make such a decision without talking to me? I thought I was in the inner circle and was privileged to all such information. I guess I can’t be too hurt. I was gone for over two years. “Where did you get the fissionable material?”

    “From smoke detectors. You said once before that they all contain a small amount of radioactive material. The trick was to get enough of them without arousing suspicion. We went to different hardware stores and purchased four or five at a time till we had enough. It took months and had to be spread out over lots of states so it didn’t seem like there was a sudden run on smoke detectors.”

    “We don’t have a nuclear physicist on hand or did you acquire one of those too?”

    “Sari, don’t be upset. You weren’t here for me to tell you these things. I couldn’t just send it to you in an email as that kind of stuff is all heavily monitored by the NSA. And no we don’t have one but a few of us did read up on the topic before we dove right in.”

    “So what is the problem? What is it that you want me to do?”

    “I don’t want you to do anything. I want to pick your brain a bit. The stuff in the reactor is breaking down too quickly. We need another source of nuclear material. Where else can we get it.”

    “What about the radioactive rocks in the desert that uranium is extracted from?”

    “There are rocks sitting on the earth’s surface that contain uranium and we can just walk up to them and pick them up?”

    “Yes but it isn’t pure and you have to refine it before it would be any good in the reactor.”

    “Thank you, that is what I wanted to know. You may go.”

    “Yes wise one.” I respond reflexively rising and moving to leave. Pausing I turn and look at her. “You shouldn’t hide things like this because we are what we pretend to be so we must be careful what we pretend to be.” Leaving her I am overwhelmed by how much things have changed since I was here last and the secrets that are being kept. I thought we all agreed not to keep secrets like that. What else is Ora hiding these days?

Where dips the rocky highland

Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,

There lies a leafy island

Where flapping herons wake

The drowsy water rats;

There we've hid our faery vats,

Full of berries

And of reddest stolen cherries.

Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand.

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

    I walk around thinking about what Ora has done while I was gone and hoping that the same love and light I learned to expect from this place is still here and that nothing has been truly perverted by her decisions.

Why Americans hate Arabs!

Americans hate Arabs because Arabs invented algebra. See most Americans are very bad at math and want to punish others for their shortcomings in the manor of the code of Hammurabi so they are trying to punish all Arabs for creating algebra. Things we are also mad at Arabs for are the creation of zero. Now they had a number to represent nothing. Which still baffles some Americans. We are also mad at the Arabs giving us their numbers so long division would be possible. Think about it how would you do long division with roman numerals. So that is why Americans hate Arabs. Arabs posses dangerous methods of math instruction!

National Novel Writing Month pt 8

    She left me to reflect further and I went for a walk. Maybe the plants can help cure what ails me. Why does everything need to get so hard? No matter how much you love a subject, person, or thing, everything always gets hard.

A favorite subject will become increasingly difficult until one wonders why there ever was a desire to begin in the first place. Thing back to when you first started writing letters. You were attempting to write the alphabet in barely recognizable scribble on paper, and you were praised so highly for this. Then you found out these letters formed words and that was ok, but not so fun because those words had to be spelled correctly. Then things got worse, you were expected to put those words into sentences, which was ok, but there were so many rules. Noun verb agreement, preposition location, tenses, and punctuation just to name a few. Then there was only one right way to do things and if you didn’t do it right you got noting for the effort. This became still more difficult when the concept of paragraphs was introduced and fell apart completely with the requirement of essays. The major problem with essays is that there is no one right way to write one and each person has their own requirements. Those requirements are rarely stated up front so it is a kind of roulette to try and get the essay just right.

This subject became just too complicated. This complication and increasing demand chased many students away from attempting to excel in the topic. Every subject does this and the jumps in requirements are not always gentle and over the course of years. As you become older and progress through the topic you are expected to make larger and larger jumps in shorter amounts of time. As the topic becomes harder and requires more explanation you receive less instruction and have less time to digest in. This is why I hate the school system, everyone just expects you to be good at everything and if you aren’t then they just move on without you, and leave you lost in the dust.

People are similar but the problem with them progresses much quicker. You start out with not knowing where you stand with someone, and if you fail completely in the relationship, you end the same way. They start by telling you about themselves and you are to remember everything they say, and everyone has their specific requirements that are most important, and if you neglect to remember the right thing you have caused offence. Then that person does the unthinkable, introducing you to their friends and family which all do the same thing. So now you have all this completely useless information and you are required to know all of it to the end of time. Then you are exposed to their personality and are required to adapt your thinking to handle this. If they are having a bad day you are required to care and know just the right thing to do or say. That is completely ridiculous. How can someone expect that of another human? To expect that is to expect failure. No one can read your mind and even if they could, do you honestly think they would stick around? No, I refuse to try and understand people. People just expect way too much and it is too hard to satisfy their image of you.

Inanimate objects are not exempt from this. If you own a cell phone and don’t know how to send pictures on the thing people make fun of you for owning the option. To own an object is to know everything about the object.  This knowledge is expected to be innate and if it is not, then you are seen as some kind of freak. Everyone is required to know everything about all things. It would be far simpler to just not own anything in the first place.

One could say that I just hate everything or that I have had bad experiences with people and their expectations, but I stopped caring about people and their expectations, their completely unreasonable and irrational expectations.

    Sandra is kneeling in a patch of mallow harvesting some and weeding. Her bright pink pixie cut hair perfectly frames her face. I love watching her work. She is like an ethereal being somehow found on earth. She never quite seems to belong and yet is bound to the plants. She and I always had that in common. Never quite belonging anywhere but always drawn back to the plants. Looking up she flashes me a smile which I try to return and walk over to join her.

    Kneeling across from her on the path we greet and exchange pleasantries but there is an elephant in the room which we both don’t want to talk about. Unexpectedly I burst into tears and tell her all about Asa, how I found him and how he must have suffered. When our eyes meet again we are both crying.

    She leans over and embraces me. We hold each other in silence for a time. Slowly everyone comes over and joins into a giant group hug. I don’t know who started it but someone started the tickling. Soon we dissolved into a huge giggling mass on the ground. I hadn’t laughed like that in weeks. Sandra and I leave to get drinks.

    One of my more well known skills is distilling liquor to a very high proof. I am very good at controlling a system like that. I may have flunked out of engineering and landing in biology but I always could look at a system and improve it, or even set up a multi stage process from scratch. So we have on hand large quantities of hard alcohol. There is no way on earth that anyone can get a group of hippies to give up pot and alcohol. We have both in abundance. We don’t have anything harsher or let anyone under the age of 21 consume because their brains haven’t finished forming yet. With enough education the children are willing to wait to consume.

Sandra starts making a pitcher of lemon margaritas. My favorite. “You look like you could use a drink.”

“Yes, but who wouldn’t after the month I have had.” I reply.

“I really am sorry about Asa. He was a good man and didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“Thanks,I just don’t know what to do, how to feel, or who I even am any more.”

“Bugs in amber.”

“What?”

“All time is all time. It does not change. It does not lend itself to warnings or explanations. It simply is. Take it moment by moment, and you will find that we are all, as I've said before, bugs in amber.”

    “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

    “That depends. Do you? I’m not sure but I never was good at knowing what to say when someone dies but it does sound introspective I think. Either way, you are speaking again so I will call that a win.”

Sandra always did know how to put me at ease. We talk and joke into the night and probably drink too much but hey if you can’t drink to excess with a good friend then you shouldn’t drink at all.

National Novel Writing Month Pt 7

Reality is like a river, always moving always changing.  Reality can only be found in the present, but in the time it takes to explain the present, the present has moved on, and the event you were trying to express now in the past.  Reality is difficult to express not only because it is expressible only in the past, but the past becomes difficult to recall with time.  For example few people know what they ate for breakfast three weeks ago.  There is also a filter placed on your perceptions of reality.  For instance you probably remember the first time you hit something with a car, and not what any of your meals were that day.  This is why past reality is highly selective to the person remembering the event.  Your perceptions of reality depend greatly upon what is important to you.

Reality is similar to consciousness, and consciousness is just that annoying period between naps.  Since reality is just a projection of your mind then consciousness is relative to your consciousness in relation to other people’s consciousness.  For example when you fall asleep your reality turns into a sort of dream world.  The only way you are able to know what is dream and what is reality is by other people’s consciousness.  If this was not so then there would be many frames of reality, and any of them would cease to exist once you stopped being conscious of that form of reality.  For instance the world could end if you stop paying attention to it.

To prevent things from no longer existing once there are no longer paid attention so there must be some form of higher level consciousness to which we are all linked.  The only example of this that I can think of is “The Borg” from Star Trek.  This is a group of people who all possess the same consciousness.  All of their minds are linked.  Every thing anyone had done is known about by all.  Then there are random computer malfunctions during which certain Borg are cut off from the collective.  These individuals usually can not cope with being alone, and proceed to do some incredibly odd things in their quest to become part of the collective again.  Some people appear to have more of a group consciousness than others.  I have frequent moments in which I do not know how I know something, and yet I still know the piece of information.  For example, when living in the house of someone I have never met before I know where everything is stored in the kitchen and the complete layout of the house.  Everything from where dried fruit is store, to where the bathrooms are, even finding the flashlights or the working batteries.  Apparently some people never have these moments.

    If I keep him alive within my heart then there is a chance that I will always be able to see him to feel him to love him for all time. These are all the moments and truth I have left to live for. For I have nothing else. The wounds are far too fresh to just move on. The idea of the world turning on without him is too painful for words.

    “He will be born again.” Startled I look up to realize the leader has joined me. “We all see that you grieve for him and you will be given your time to do so but you must start speaking with others. We can’t have you forever walking in darkness. You do dishonor to his memory by cutting yourself off from everyone.”

    I know she is right, but how do I move on?

National Novel Writing Month Pt 6

    I love my underground cottage but I always wanted one in the trees. A house full of light and life. One I could share with the forest creatures around me and live up in the canopy. Where I could look out at the world with love and wonder. I could greet the sunrises and dance in the sunsets. The breezes would soothe me to sleep every night. The world would be full of magic and I would be honored to dwell within. But the world we live in is not yet ready for such thing. Too many people want to destroy such forest houses. Calling the forest life an abomination. Force me into their narrow mold of city life. Still this underground home is closer to the life of a forest elf I always longed for. The organic sculpted walls. Little shelves full of my treasures. A bathtub I could swim in.  A closet full of flowing fluttery clothing that somehow is more practical than the mass produced crap found on the surface above. But it is not all about the material goods but also the people who live here and love me for who I am. Breathing deeply I know my freshly found inner peace could not last I began the day with my mantra.

        Believe you are one!

Invite magic into your life.

Create your own enchanting wings.

Always use your powers for good.

Design your own reality, full of happiness, peace and love.

Celebrate every day with laughter, songs and play.

Paint sunrises on rocks and leave them on empty doorsteps.

Picnic with a grasshopper and unravel the mysteries of the universe.

Plant your favorite cookie crumbs for the ants.

Grow a wish garden and bring your dreams to life one by one.

Blow kisses to gray clouds and paint your toenails with raindrops.

Build elegant butterfly houses and rent them out for free.

Dance daily.

Find something beautiful in everyone you meet and remind them of it.

Hug trees until you can feel a heart beating with yours.

Share your secrets with your feathered and furry friends.

Follow rainbows with kindred spirits and discover the treasures along the way.

Fill empty spaces with flowers.

Whisper your worries to dragonflies and let them be carried far, far away.

Write poems about friendship, faith and forgiveness and leave them on park benches.

Nap in the grass and let ladybugs dance in your hair.

Stretch time and space, and travel to new lands.

Soak your soul in sunsets – twilight is a fairy’s finest hour.

Listen to the quiet.

Explore the wonder of you.

Attend cricket symphonies by moonlight.

Make wishes for other people on shooting stars.

Let your wings carry you where no one else has been.

Light the way for others to follow.

Spread the message: Everything is Possible.

Remember that when you believe in yourself, you inspire others to do the same.

    Heading to the large dining hall I am taken off guard by the confusion of sounds and smells of everyone starting their day. The buffet tables, smartly lined up at one side are piled high with foods of every sort. Fresh fruits, vegetables, breads, and soups  I help myself to half a grapefruit, some vegetable broth soup, and a quart of coffee. My usual breakfast for here. Then hesitating as I do not wish for company unlike most days, so I walk to a quieter table in a far corner wishing to be alone with my thoughts. There is a warm fire and soft seats. Many invite me over but I politely decline. Perhaps I have been gone too long this time and should not have stayed away. There are many new faces. We must have expanded in the last couple years. I wonder what changes were made to the layout. If we are still set up to be completely sustainable if the outside world crashes to its inevitable fiery end. That is one of our goals after all. To build a better society that will inherit the earth after the fools outside fall. The entire place can withstand a nuclear attack and we would be able to live out happy healthy lives here. What may look like hand hewn rocks and dirt is actually a series of concrete domes reinforced with rebar all buried ten feet down. I am sitting at a table twenty feet under the earth. There are lower levels as well many full of stored goods and all the technology and machines we would ever need to make anything we want. All carried in from miles away all of this built without anyone from the outside world having any sort of hint of the work being done. The children grow up as part of a community and we even have teachers and doctors here. We aren’t some religious nuts or dirty hippies. We are a group of like minded people who wish to survive the coming apocalypse that everyone can sense is coming. There has been an ever increasing number of public shootings, people losing their minds and taking out others, and almost everyone is doing some sort of prepping within their own homes. Everyone can tell at some level that something big is going to happen and we are fully set up here to weather the storm.

    The leader of our community sits down with me and while finishing my breakfast I tell her my tale. After which I give her the vile I still have in my pocket and ask her to get the biotech people on figuring out what, if anything, can be learned from the vial. She gives a few commands into her watch and we go into lockdown. Everyone who was on the surface goes underground and all portals to the surface are sealed. No one will be able to enter or leave till our leader decides it is safe. The surface stop action cameras will be monitored constantly and she will help to get to the bottom of this whole mess. But she doesn’t say what we both know. That the trip to russia was why my husband was killed. That someone wants this vial and is willing to kill to get it. That if anyone knows about our little colony they don’t want us to have radiation eating bacteria. Otherwise nothing would stop us from launching a nuclear weapon and destroying the rest of civilization as we know it and taking the earth as our own. Nothing that is except for our lack of a nuclear weapon. Some people really have too much of an imagination about little societies like mine. That somehow we always accomplish the impossible. I could make a weapon but I wouldn’t want to. All I would need is a few thousand smoke detectors and to remove their nuclear material to make a giant bomb. It wouldn’t be hard I just wouldn’t do it. There is still so much light and life around the world that I would hate to destroy. So much biodiversity that I could not bring myself to lose. We would even lose the towering trees above this place. Who would do such a thing?

    I wander the corridors, halls, and meeting places. For what? I know not. Perhaps I look for an absolution. An answer to make sense of all the violence I encountered while away. Something that will make up for the loss of my love. Or explain why there are so many fowl people in the world. I wish only for a life of light and love, why must I encounter so much evil and hatred in my search for happiness? Why do so many seek to destroy me and all that I stand for? There are so many green growing things here that I pick up a hip basket and knife and start in on the lemon harvest. There is always so much to do with the plants. So much to harvest. So much food to process and store for later. When something needs done a notice is posted by the head gardener and you can join the workforce till tired and actually accomplish something. There is nothing quite as fulfilling as a job well done. Good work is always worth doing and helps me to collect my thoughts.

    The chimes sound. Could it really be lunch time already? Did I really pick the entire lemon grove clean? The evidence of my work is all around me. So many bins of lemons full. I load them onto the carts pressing the button for collection and wandering off for lunch.

    The scent of lunch is strong and savery. I wish to taste everything that has been prepared. So many delicious treats all grown organically on site. All the hard work makes the food taste so much better. Grabbing a steaming bowl full of my favorite broth soup, some fruit, and a quart of lemonade I wonder where to sit. I should speak with my friends. I should catch up on current events and the most recent gossip. But I just can’t bring myself to do so. My losses are too great, the wounds too fresh, and the grief too great to just jump back in to such things so soon. So I choose the peace of the fireside table at the far end of the room. I know I won’t be able to choose this for too much longer but I only wish to be alone with my thoughts. I hope no one followed me here to this sanctuary under ground. I hope we are all still hidden from the outside world. I wish us all to never be discovered as that would lead to disaster. Many watch me from across the room. I try  not to notice but it weighs on me that I am ignoring my friends and adoptive family. I could care less if I offended my biological family as they are abusive fools, schizophrenics, alcoholics, and assholes. But these people are ones I love and who love me in return and they don’t make me walk through fire just to prove it. In time I will tell them my story and they will be patient till then.

Tic Tac Powrmint as a decongestant

I came across this item purely by chance. I like mint and I wanted something sweet so I went for a tic tac. I first noticed that the flavor was more reminiscent of star anise than mint but a few seconds later I could breathe! Now I have allergies year round and antihistamines only seem to take the edge off. This is the best natural decongestant I have ever found. These puppies allow me to breathe better than at any other time in my life!