We live in an age of DON’T YOU DARE STEREOTYPE.  In case you were wondering.  But somehow picking on older people is okay?  No, it is not.

It seems baby boomers have been discovered by a new generation, one who never knew anything about boomers until now and hey, we need a new group to bash.  Plus, the name is kinda cool, because creativity was alive in the age of the boomers.  Younger buyers have a letter. But let’s say it, let’s make fun, let’s attack, let’s act like all boomers are 90 years old and have no value.  That’s stereotyping and it’s also wrong.

I just saw a headline about ‘younger buyers’ wanting baby boomers to redecorate.  Deep breath.  Calming down.  Don’t tell other people to redecorate.  You’re not shopping DECOR.  Your agent should tell you that, unless they are inexperienced and not good at their job.

First:  Younger buyers have no business telling anybody else how to decorate their home.  I dare anybody to come in my house and tell me to redecorate.  Wow.

Second:  Who made you an interior design specialist? Stacking stuff on the floor and building a colorless, characterless home is not decorating.

Third: Do NOT dare to tell anybody how to live their cultural social existence.  As long as they are not chasing you around with big old knives or shooting at you, it’s NONE of your business. 

Let me clue you in on real estate wisdom, younger buyers.   You are not buying decor.  You are buying real estate.  If you do not have the ability to look beyond some else’s decor, maybe you should wait a while before you try to buy a house, because you are shopping decorations and that’s not actually ‘home buying’.  In case you were wondering.  

I get it.  Jewel tones and dark red paint are out out out.  SO buy some PAINT.  And if you don’t know how, well I just don’t know what to tell you: It’s not rocket science.  I did rocket science; this ain’t it.  But if you absolutely can’t do it, then ask the seller to make a concession so you can HIRE someone.

And let me also say, boomers who ARE on the front of the generation, might just tell you to kiss off, only in more colorful language.  Boomers don’t whine and cry.  They hit back.

You know, insulting an entire group of people out loud, in print, is wrong, unless you are God and I’m thinking you’re definitely not.  Real Estate agents writing articles, I’m calling YOU out on this.  Boomers  might want to block all ‘younger buyers’ from viewing their homes.  And it is your job to encourage your buyers to ‘look at the bones’.  And if they like the house, for God’s sake, don’t insult the sellers.

This is the most important bit of information:  EVERY generation of sellers AND buyers has its own needs, behaviors, goals.  New agents, you CANNOT treat older buyers like they are dumb and out of touch.  They are nuclear physicists, doctors, attorneys, scientists.  Don’t insult them; rather, learn how to RELATE to them.  Insulting them should NEVER be done.  Never.  Chances are you can’t hold a candle to their body of work and life.  

I’m incredulous about that article.  Incredulous.  It’s an out loud, in print sign of stupidity and lack of professionalism.

Have you thought about the “New World Order” and what that means?  Ever given that a second’s thought?  Do you think it’s global hugging and loving?  Think again.

A (New) World Order sounds refreshing and light, doesn’t it?  Not old, not grandpa’s way (even though it is grandpa talking it up).  New.  Young.  Better.  Okay, but what about this?  Out with the old…but wait, it is the ‘old’ who are chirping about this as they shuffle about and drool while counting their money and eyeing ours.  Nah, this tale can’t work at all.

How about (New World) Order.  That one scares me.  One world, a new world, all together, all individual cultures erased, all religions erased, anything divisive erased.  Melded, unified, without borders, boundaries.  Gotta get rid of Christianity and Judaism and  Islam.  How can that even HAPPEN?  Well that gets its own chapter for sure.

In ORDER.  Order from where?  Well from the ones pushing this NEW WORLD notion.  But wait, they are old.  But they must be the only ones who have great ideas.  But they don’t talk to the people, they think people are dirty and deplorable.   And nobody knows whom they are.  They are invisible, above the clouds.  Nobody would follow the agenda of invisible rich people, right??  Rats, I need to edit the story.

Okay let’s get the focus on one thing: climate.  Everybody looking up?  Okay now divide and conquer. Hurry! Sounds like a good plan, get ’em while they are distracted.  Maybe throw some cash at them while we’re at it. Everybody knows the love of money is the root of all evil.  Let’s do it.  The story is getting interesting!

Divide.  Good plan, but how?  Race, gender, religion, the biggies.  Get a few large mouths to start the angst, then sit back and wait for it to run its course.  But what do we do while we wait?  Well we could make rules to get people in line, obedient! Afraid!  Yeah, fear is a great idea!

But wait, individual cultures have value and beauty.   And as for religion, people like to choose. There is grandness and beauty in diversity!  Oh it will be hard to get people to give up their individuality.  But if they hate one another, they will take care of that issue FOR us.  But how will this fit into the tale?

The notion of a New World, without nations, without divisions, without cultures…will take eternity.  Look at Muslims and Jews.  That’s been going on for centuries.  How will those people ever mesh?   Well, only if they are no longer allowed to practice their individual religions, of course.  What do you think the plan will be to solve that problem? That’s a question worth pondering.  Particularly if you are either one of those groups.  First I think we need to stir up the antagonism…but won’t that threaten the whole world?  Gotta rethink the tale.

Let’s say everyone hugs and sings peace loving songs together.  Okay.  Then what?  Well, the word ‘order’ comes into play, because along the way we’ve been training the masses to follow the piper.  Without thinking or paying attention to the hands holding the puppets, follow.  We will be good slaves, won’t we?  If you live your entire existence under ‘orders’, what would that look like?  No choices.  Being told what to do.  Like, oh I don’t know, slavery.  Hmmm, that’s been done before and it was terrible.  But it hasn’t been done on a WORLD scale, right?  Will it fit into the tale in this ‘new’ way?

But first the right to bear arms has to go because we can’t have the herds fighting back, now can we?  How?  Encourage criminality, because it is true that humans are not basically ‘good’.  Don’t punish crime and while you are at it, defund and dehumanize police.  Utterly destroy the existing order.  From the ‘inside’, destroy the system.  Oh that’s not a new concept; ask Saul Alinsky and anyone who studied under him or admired his ‘activism’.  That might be important to the tale.

Once crime takes over, time to institute military control, the ultimate ORDER.  But it has to be military controlled by a leader, the one giving orders.  Oh I know, a military wearing all black and wearing arm bands?  Ones willing to eliminate competition of ones insisting on being their own culture?  Anyone who has something the ‘leader’ wants?  Like that?  That could make the story work.  But…has that happened already?  I think it has.  And that didn’t go well either, did it?  Maybe this tale isn’t a good idea.

And all of the ones screaming and protesting, burning and looting along the way?  Well they won’t fit into a sweet, melded and unified society.  Hmmm. Where will the fit in?  Oh they won’t.  Another story problem.

Now…all of the elites authoring this story, this NEW WORLD order let’s think.  Only one gets to be the leader of the NEW WORLD order.  Uh oh.  OH no.  Hmmm.  How do we write THAT chapter to finish this fictional tale?  I don’t know.   That part has not begun to unfold.  But I encourage you to write this chapter.  Look around, check out the changing landscape, and write that last fictional chapter.

My followers know I am always thinking about something deeper than what is on the surface.  I live in the depths where the interesting information lives.  I’ve also become a fan of the true crime genre, which opens a whole new world to contemplate, most obviously, the truth about a large part of humanity that I’ve long suspected existed among us anyway.

I’ve been going to church almost all of my life.  I believe I started at the age of 9, being dropped off for Vacation Bible School, aka, free childcare.  Aside from being the first opportunity for me to overcome my excruciating shyness at that time, VBS gave me a chance to meet Jesus and the others.  Hmmm, this Jesus guy seems like someone I’ve sung about before.  Oh yeah, Jesus Loves Me, This I Know…  Well we can talk about religion another time.  I will just say religion is not the same as God; religion, ALL religions, are man-created.  And if you are inclined to blow a gasket because of that sentence, think about it first.  But Jesus: This guy, stuck in my mind.  He kept coming back from the depths of my psyche and tapping on my door.  But back to the topic.

I used to believe people were basically good.  Basically trustworthy.  Ha.  I guess I didn’t actually read the Bible closely then.  The Bible clearly states that humans are sinful creatures.  We are ‘wretched sinners’, in fact.  What?!?  Welllll I found that a bit harsh…until I looked around me.  Most people are NOT basically good.  People, as it turns out, are MOSTLY not ‘basically good’.  A LOT of us will get away with exactly as much as we can get away with.  We the people will lie, steal, kill, misrepresent, leach off of others, brutalize others, attach as parasites to a host, BE a host (me), overestimate others, UNDERestimate others, have sympathy, not know the meaning of the word sympathy, even empathy, tell little white lies, big old gooey ones, and on and on.  It’s complicated, in other words.  Learning about this stuff is a long, actually never-ending, process.

First, I thought about left versus right brain dominance. Oh that explains it, right?  No.  It doesn’t.  It’s one part of a 1000 piece puzzle. But you don’t KNOW that until later on in the learning process.  Still, if you are left brain dominant, as I am, you go for data, facts, truth, you analyze.  And I’m going to venture to say most of US (the left brainers) can keep emotions to a minimum. We’re not robots, we do have emotions but we don’t have to broadcast them!  As such, VERY often, people think we are ‘fine’ because we don’t hop around in a circle and wail when things go sideways.  No, we go deep and analyze.  We line up the data, figure out what the hell happened and how do I keep this from happening again?  The surface dwellers NEVER understand us because they are hopping around waving flags and wailing, sometimes having feelings that obliterate facts, and floating around in the glitter and rose petals at the surface of the pond (It’s a good life).  Well, not always, but watch the news, will you?  This wailing and gnashing of teeth is getting more and more prevalent…which scares the crap out of me because you cannot reason with someone who is trying to set you on fire.  But back to the point: Depending on how many puzzle pieces we’ve acquired, we just might not care whether anybody gets us.  Why?  Because we know caring about that is a colossal waste of time.  Oh here we go..

I’ve had some occasions to be screamed at lately, like, in a ROW. hahaha.  What the hell is going on here. Am I diabolical?  Or…do I give the impression that I can take verbal abuse?  Do I LOOK like a punching bag?  Where is my mirror and can it go with me into the depths?  Okay I CAN take verbal abuse because I understand it and it usually doesn’t get inside me.  Depending on who delivers it, it can set a drill bit into my soul, but I always thwart that effort now.  I didn’t always.  It’s about putting the puzzle together.  For me, I know I can drive people crazy if they are not like me, and SURPRISE most people are not.  But here’s the thing: When you verbally abuse someone, you say a thousand more things to that person, aside from the words you shouted. And those messages are the ones that break the bonds.

This I know:  I know what I feel; I know what I say and do not say, know what I believe and do not believe.  My pet peeve is when people try to tell me how I feel, what I think, what I believe or do not believe or try to talk down to me as though I am unworthy of respect.  I am not better than anyone, but nobody else is better than me either.  My pet peeve is when someone says to me what I said when I know what I said.  If you get it wrong, you’re gonna get an argument. I know what I say.  Never tell me my opinions are ‘wrong’.  An opinion is an opinion, a belief is a belief, both of which I am entitled to, and by the way…a left brain dominant person doesn’t not reach a conclusion or opinion frivolously. We analyze the crap out of it.  And many of us are able to say, “I don’t know.”  It’s not hard.  Often it is the truth.

Well, I am going to surprise you here.  Ready?  I am not perfect!  I do stupid stuff too, just like everyone else.  And (puzzle piece) I am a first-born.  Psychologists say that although I have a slightly older brother, he did not assume the role of first-born in the psychological scale.  I did.  I was the built in babysitter, the one in ‘charge’ of cleaning the house, making sure my younger siblings didn’t play in the street, making sure my older brother didn’t burn something down, doing laundry along the way…that stuff. First born.  

As such, being born into the unit I was born into, I had no guidance, nobody to copy.  So I found my way with my hands outstretched, feeling around in the nebulous and moving forward until I either hit a wall or fell off a cliff.  That’s ANOTHER thing.  Parents, give your first born children some guidance, will you?  Like hey, there’s a wall really close to you or WATCH OUT FOR THAT CLIFF!  I didn’t have that.  I had parents who were largely unconnected but they did carry a big hammer for punishment for the two firstborns.  I temper that by adding in that I didn’t shout and wail when I was hurt or confused so they may have thought I was just fine.

 But my M.O. was to move by trial and error, although now I am able to suss out the environment pretty well most of the time. Glad I’m learning all of this complicated crap, just in time to kick the bucket.  By the way, I will leave the mortal coil not having completed this puzzle.  Humans don’t have the capacity to finish it, Garden of Eden notwithstanding.  If you THINK you have all of the answers, wow, you are probably a narcissist.  Why?  Because the more you actually learn, the more you realize you don’t know.  Even Einstein said that.  Moving on.

Back to true crime:  If you delve into this genre, you will be introduced to psychopaths, narcissists, malignant psychopaths, malignant psychopaths with narcissistic tendencies, and all of the infinite combinations therein.  You will be introduced to people who do horrific things because mommy didn’t love me or mommy loved me too much.  Or you were allergic to formula when you were a baby or you were breast fed.  Or you never got to go to Disney (a blessing in my mind).  So now you look around with wide eyes thinking you are surrounded by weirdos. hahaha.  Just picture it.  And shock of shocks: You’re one too!  There are so many crimes that are committed by ‘the nice guy next door’ that it changes your perspective of humankind.  And it should.  Why?  Because we have crime shows that give you step by step instructions on how to commit the perfect murder! hahaha.  Never works though. Don’t do it.

I’m the kind of analyst that wants to know why.  Why should be the word on my tombstone; it defines me.  So when some people go off the rails, I realize they were abused as a child, or they are deeply wounded and therefore carry around a huge weight of anger JUST below the surface (hence the shouting), or they were NOT a firstborn and therefore think life is supposed to be easy, like a path cleared before you by the battered and bruised firstborns, or they were not breast fed, no Disney.  Like that.  So right out of the gate, I am TRYING to give abusers a pass, an excuse.  That’s stupid.  But listen, sometimes there’s an explanation that is true, and makes sense.  There.  Problem solved.

HOWEVER:  There are some wounded ones who will not set down the buckets of putrid sewage they carry around in their own psyche, always planted by someone else.  The first step is turning on the lights, picking up the mirror and ‘know thyself’, if you are capable.  Some are not.  And then you have to go to work throwing away the bad stuff forever, letting it go.  If it has come to define you?  Not an easy task but still possible.  Once you see that a person wants to cling to their ‘disorder’ for example, just move along.  You are probably not going to even be able to love them.  

Anyway, I’m wired to look beyond the event to try and figure it out.  The thing is I now try to weed out the tendencies I see coming my way so I don’t have to deal with them.  Mostly, I succeed.  But the bottom line is that every single human being on this planet is wired before they are born, and then their environment begins to trim, cut, pressure, reshape, destroy the person they were intended to be. So I try to love the person they were INTENDED to be, by God.  Not always. If they have a hatchet behind their back, not so much.  So it pays to know something about a person’s history.  But the WIRING…you can’t change that.  Now this goes back to why I don’t usually fight back or want to, nor try to mend fences, that kind of thing.  If, for example, you are dealing with a malignant narcissist, say. Here’s what you get (in part).  

First, they want you in their life so they can 1) get something from you; 2) use you as a step to get higher on the ladder, obviously higher than you; 3) beat somebody up and you can take it; 4) you always agree with their amazing intellect and insight (God help you if you don’t). That’s a partial list, but basically, to a personality type like that, you are a tool in their kit and by the way…once they have used you up, you’re toast. hahaha.  Just remember that when they throw you away with shouting and spittle, that will be a GOOD thing, because you cannot change them, you cannot reason with them, you are done, finito, garbage in the can to them.  You can either mope about it, or you can understand the system in which the event occurred and move on.  And these people, I firmly believe, are the reason so many womens’ bodies are found in shallow graves.  Their purpose was served.  Frightening.

Oh and this is important.  Watch out for RETALIATION, because that’s what malignant narcissists like.  They like to hurt you, they get pleasure from it, “even if you don’t know they did it”.  That quote came from a psychologist telling me about someone who liked hurting me and I was, well, clueless.  I didn’t have that puzzle piece then.  So if you cross a malignant narcissist, just watch for the flying tomahawks, beer bottles, you know, that kind of thing. In my case, the retaliation was financial, diabolical, and it nearly DID destroy me.  But I’m still here.  I’m like one of those punching bags that keeps popping back up. So far.

And there are SO many influence styles, personality types, DISORDERS, and there’s society who give you malignant messages on top of it.  You become invisible after the age of 50.  Once you become a senior, you are a ‘burden’ and no longer valued.  If you are not oh I can’t say that word here, but basically if you are not sexual, GOODBYE.  There is agism, there is racism, there is gender-ism, cast system prejudices.  The love of money IS the root of all evil, more and more as time goes on.  Everyone can be bought; everybody has a price.  Here’s a true one: Most people are not smart enough to vote or drive. hahaha. 

Then there’s intelligence.  Money trumps it.  Some of the dumbest people are in charge of the world because daddy had money.  That’s frightening. Bill Gates got money and suddenly he is telling the whole wide world allll about viruses.  Bill Gates should not be talking to anybody about viruses, or chemistry, or physics.  But you get the idea.  Money and intelligence are two more puzzle pieces. Don’t forget ‘disorders’.

I guess what I’m getting at here is this:  Life is complicated, but it is fascinating if you pay attention, take a deep breath and dive below the surface, away from the glitter and flower petals floating there, and see the rest of the universe.  I was given a bit of knowledge the other day:  I have a tendency to want to maintain toxic connections.  SHOCK.  Why?  Because of a childhood thing, related to a wait for it…narcissist.  Holy cow that was a GOOD puzzle piece.  And if you are someone who likes to retaliate when you get mad, go see a counselor.  Or run for office.  And don’t have kids.

Today’s writing prompt asks about the coolest thing I ever found and kept; so in usual fashion I’m going to tailor it to my experience and talk about the coolest thing that ever found ME that I kept.  Her name is now Cinnamon Girl but she didn’t have a name when she showed up at my door.

I live in a townhouse that opens to a small grassy area, a sidewalk and the street just beyond.  The street has become busier now than it was when Cinnamon showed up, and that’s an important part of the story.  My living room is on the back of the house, so I walk up the hallway toward the kitchen on the front of my house many times a day.  And I have a lovely glass door on the front so the regular door is usually open, exposing the glass door to let in light.  One special day, there was a little tabby girl, very small kitten, just sitting and looking in.  She didn’t run when she saw me; she just sat quietly, watching.  

I couldn’t wait to meet her so I walked toward the door too quickly and she took her leave.  Okay, she’s fearful.  If she comes back, I will remember.  And she came back.  Next day.  I went to the door slowly and sat on the floor a few feet away and just let her look at me.  That was the routine for several days, with me moving ever so slightly toward the door.  Early on, I put out some food for the kitten, whom I knew was ‘she’, instinctively.  She wasn’t interested in getting closer than through the glass, so I talked to her that way until winter approached.

We had a terribly harsh winter that year and I feared she would freeze.  So I went online to see how to help.  I built her a styrofoam house on the porch, but Cinnamon’s house had a little heating pad under the blankets and extra insulation for her, and a little mouse-door entrance.  I couldn’t sleep, worrying about her, because she didn’t come into her condo for several days.  I know because, unable to sleep from worrying about her, throughout the night I’d get up and peek through the blinds to see if she had moved in.  One morning when I checked at 1:30 (It was an icy night), I saw here little face in the doorway of her condo.  Then, beside her, was her first house guest!  Finally, I slept.

I named her Cinnamon Girl because she looked like a brown/gray tabby, until the sun was behind her.  In that situation, her fur glowed a beautiful cinnamon color.  She was no longer an ordinary girl then, she was stunning.

One day in Spring, I cracked open the glass door and reached out just my hand so she could sniff me.  By that time, she had been coming every day, several times a day and staying in her condo on the cold nights.  She checked me out and our friendship reached another level.  Eventually I sat on the porch and ‘ignored’ her, knowing she would eventually circle me and check me out, as long as I sat still and quiet.  After years, I was able to pet her.  After years, I could call to her and she’d come to the porch.  And she was getting some weight on her body and her fur was looking healthy and beautiful.

I also trapped her and took her to a cat rescue to be spayed and vaccinated, bringing her home to heal.  I put her cage in the powder room where there was a litter box, food and water for her and critically, a quiet place for her to heal.  I visited her each day, many times a day, but didn’t try to touch her.  When she healed, sadly, I let her go, thinking I would never see her again.  Why would she come back to the place that traumatized her?  As she trotted away, I felt like I had let her down, somehow.  But at least she wouldn’t have yet another litter of kittens.  Over time she had had four; three were hidden away by her and the fourth, she brought to the safe porch and which I adopted out to good homes.  

Eventually, though she trusted me, every other sound frightened her into dashing away, often across the now busy street.  So I made a plan to scoop her inside and then…I didn’t know.  I only knew I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to my little friend.

I bribed her to the door with fried chicken, scooped her in and she bolted upstairs into one of the spare rooms.  Okay.  I put a litter box in, food, water and toys, and closed the door to give her time to adjust to the new smells and sounds, and to decide whether or not she was going to forgive me.  After a week, I just cracked the door a bit and left her to her own plans.  One day I looked at the landing of the stairs and there she was, looking at me.  When I turned to her, she ran back to her room.  But another day as I sat in the living room, I looked down to see her sitting by my feet.  From then on, it was a slowly developing friendship on her part; I loved her nearly from the beginning.

Now she sleeps with me, actually ON me, every night.  After 5 years I can pick her up but not too often, she talks to me, purrs, gives me love nibbles. She NEVER gives me a minute’s trouble.  It’s a big deal that she purrs, because she was completely silent for years.  I didn’t think she knew how to purr, that she had never felt safe enough to purr.  She greets me with a kitty hello each morning and lets me brush her and cuddle with her.  And amazingly, often (because of course she knows my routine) she lays on the floor and poses with her belly exposed.  That’s huge! I feel incredibly honored to be trusted by her.  Now she makes me step over her if she’s comfortable where she is.

So, this is my ‘favorite thing’, even though she chose me!  For some reason, out of all of the homes, she came to mine, kept coming to mine, even before there were any rewards for her.  She’s the sweetest cat I’ve ever shared life with. I’ve had probably 20 cats over the years, and all have been/are lovely creatures, each with his/her own personality and spirit.  But Cinnamon is the sweetest, kindest, least spoiled of all of my pets.  I like to think she realized how I helped her, but in reality?  She saved me a much as I saved her.