Can You Face Some Unpleasant Truths?

You’ve been duped. The fountain thing does not work

The tooth fairy – fake

Easter Bunny – imaginative fuckery

Santa – made the fuck up

That fucking sneaky ass leprechaun – all fictitious shit of someone’s goddamned brilliant/sadistic mind.

The bible – a gruesome bedtime story

Your brainholes have brainwashed. Don’t take offense, my have as well. Trying to reign that in and recognize areas in which are brains eye is trained to something other than what’s in direct line of vision.

How many commercial jingles can you sing, tv theme shows, movie quotes – yup all brainwashing. It’s not all necessarily bad, mind ya; just calling it what it is.

Puppies die.

Fish get flushed.

Children cry. Momma’s love. Daddy’s hug – Should be reality for ALL, it’s not

Children cry. Momma’s yell. Daddy’s hit – Sadly, this is more the norm

Children mustn’t live in fear. Children mustn’t live hungry. Children must laugh. Children must be seen and heard. Children must grow.

I’d know since I was a teen that I wanted to work with kids in some capacity when I got older. Never saw myself as a teacher. I’ve always been one to walk on the opposite side of the hall, NEVER in formation with other; nope. Was not an anyone other than an ugly and a poor in school. I always knew everyone should have someone, but since I din’t have anyone – graduating high school while living on my own and working two jobs, no parents. Orphaned at 17. Left to live on my own devices.

So, I knew everyone should have someone. And I knew I could be that someone to a future student. And that’s how I became the time out coordinator and shit at an elementary school. Those were the quote bad kids. Nope, those kids were just as good as any pretty. But unfortunately adults/teachers are just as bad at prejudicing against the uglies too. So sad. Think where I’d be today, had I been a pretty. But I digress and know I’m just in this blood and bones vessel temporarily.

So I get the ‘bad’ kids and we work on character education and shit. Playing games, talking about feelings. Good stuff. These kids were awesome. They just had a different learning style. These kids loved the fuck outta me too. I was firm, but supportive, offering that sideways hugs at every meeting. At the end of the week, providing they watched their P’s and goddamned Q’s; they visit my class — for their weekly reward!?!?!? How awesome, right?

As my older boys began their education, I became most vested in the children, especially the BED and EC’s. SO much fun. SO much learning ad potential. And then, I’d yell and scream at my own sons, before heading to school in the mornings to be mean Mrs. Blahblah. Talk about guilt. Hell, my oldest are 24 & 25 and the mom guilt still keeps me up at night – even tho both live on their own, etc, etc…Mom Guilt is real af and it should be recognized.

So, while you’re here, on earth, in your earth body, I ask that you be kind to each other. To be kind to yourselves. Be kind to your kid/kids. Be kind to your spouse.

Just fucking be kind fucksticks.

There may be an ever after, but we all know it’s rarely happy.

TBT – I’m Ready To Be Over My Emotion Sickness

It’s no secret my life’s been tough. And yet I persist. I’ve known my purpose is of something greater than a mere mortal. This much I know is true. From birth to fucking 46. But here I am.

Here we are. All of us. On the brink of fuckity fuckered shit will rain down upon us when it’s said and done and neatly written about in our history books. Grab the umbrella kids, it’s going to get messier here.

Switching gears here…

I’ve got some fanfuckintastic news folks — There is NO evidence of metastatic cancer in my body, atm!!! Can I get a ‘fuck yeah’? Another scan in six months to follow up on a concerting spot, but all good. Thank you Daisy Hill Puppy Farm. For real. I just knew with the amount of pain I suffered daily, it must be cancer. That coupled with the fact I’ve not taken the recommended Tamoxifen for the past four and half years. I just have shitty ass bones. Luckily, I’ve just met with a pain management doctor, insurance review fuckers [ruled in my favor], a psychiatrist [both the TSD’s – Current and Past], a neurologist, dermatologist and ENT are rolling up soon and yaaaaaaaas a breast cancer/reconstruction plastic surgeon in the morning, Wednesday 4/15.

These 5 pound, poisoning my body, way too big fuckers will be coming out — Soon, I hope. It’s medically necessary at this point, the explant surgery that is. I’ll be speaking to her about the DIEP flap method as my stomach looks like a goddamned flying squirrel when viewed in the right angle. Seriously, so thrilled for this virtual-video appointment!!

And finally

A common question everyone is asking each other rn is ‘how are you coping’ and shit with isolation and shit. TBT, my life has not changed. Truly. I’ve been a Virtual Administrative Assistant for six years [diagnosed and worked thru cancer, like a rockstar] and this year my nine year old has been attending the NCVA – North Carolina Virtual Academy – enrolled in the 3rd grade. I shit you not, he is still in school. Well not this week, spring break. But, his education has’t been impacted due to Covid19. His books are home, his classes are video’ed. I’ve been utilizing the grocery store to go/pick up fucker for months now. I’m extremely lucky in these regards. This much I know as well.

We are working on pillows for comfort. If you have an old, beloved tshirt, send it my way – I’ll make ya a snazzy ass pillow.

Taking You Guys On A Trip Down Mindfuck Lane…

I’ve found and saved some amazing af photographs of New York front the 1800’s and shit. Incredible AF to look at – your brainholes will be smiling. And if you’re anything like me, which chances are you are a beautiful fucker [haaha — beautiful fucker, so not hurtful. Quite contrary, in fact], you’ll get lost in some of these.

Fucking, have you ever, in your lifetime imagined what sweet ole #NYC looked like before the concrete weeds. I have too many times. Especially having grown up in Jersey and having the city just a couple hours away. We’d take ferries to visit the Statue of Liberty. At the time, I had no idea my great grandmother, Nammie, who was still alive until my early teens, had actually entered Ellis Island via ship with her parents and two siblings – one of whom lived to be 99 years of age, having just passed a few years ago. So, at age three or so [idk, I’m so bad with facts and shit]. I’ll look at dates. Do my calculations and forget what the fuck I’m working on. Chemo Brain or Tara brain. This is all Tara brain compounded by chemo and the drugs taken during treatment. So Nammie and her family, escape Budapest in the late 1910’s. They settled and primarily stayed in Bernardsville, NJ. Another side note – You used to be able to see the Twin Towers from a road in Bernardsville, called Jacobs Ladder – google that badboy.

If you have a fascination for pictures of cities and shit in the 19th century, please drop a line and share your photos.

So, without further rambling and shit – fuck me dead, tara, ADD much – uh, yeah man. So much ADD’s. All of them. And CTSD – Current Traumatic Stress Disorder. Science. Bitch.

Legend has it, or I shall tell it as…When the Dutch people of the time had to take a mean ass liquor, gamey animal flesh, goddamned berry churning the intestines dump, eat and eventually pitching what would pass as shelter in 1654 [fucking 1654], they named their quaint lil path ‘Bouwerij’, the Dutch word for path, because it connected cattle farms to the outskirts (what is today) to Wall Street. <— And sidenote this foot food was to go below the Bowery ‘Neighborhood’ picture, but my dumb ass can’t figure how to complete this task on my device. And, fucking hell, I see some of my pictures don’t have captions and I left some off. Edits are afoot….