“Once men turned their thinking over to machines in the hope that this would set them free. But that only permitted other men with machines to enslave them.” ― Frank Herbert, Dune

Modern age. Are we really so modern?

Trapped by the screens of our lives

Endless typing, skimming, surviving.

Anyone really alive anymore?

Cogs in the wheels of the master’s machines. Need money – borrow it! Need food – use your borrowed money, don’t make it yourself! Easy! Convenient! Stress, anxiety, depression, sickness…death.

Were simpler times really that simple? Toil for your food, toil for your bed, sludge through the drudgery of mud and decay to survive another day. Was there anyone really living?

Parts of great machines, we are. The anarchists try to clog up the gears, but it keeps chugging on.

Buy now! Save! Supplements to make you fit, lean, healthy! Big pharm, big alternative health, big money – now! Is there anything real anymore?

The machine keeps on trucking forward.

Extinctions, pestilence, plagues, climate, ignorance…a self-proclaimed end of days that the machine keeps sloughing towards.

A few try to break the cycle. Merely gnarls in the trunk of the axles that spin the wheels. The cogs stuck in congestion of traffic, smog or fog?

The machine keeps churning on…


Imagine Dragons – Machine

Gold Old Days

“I am hopelessly in love with a memory. An echo from another time, another place.”  ― Michel Foucault

“…you are battered and bruised in the collisions between reminiscence and reality.” 
― David EaglemanSum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives

I’ve caught myself reminiscing frequently of late. I have such strong emotions attached to a time when a you me seemed so carefree. I wasn’t, but many thought I was and I never removed that mask for them.

This thing called adulthood…I don’t know.

On my morning drives to work, I am often struck by how formulaic we are, drones dropping the kids off at daycare or school, drones driving to work, parking, working.

I often catch myself yearning for the days when I had the energy and stamina to do everything I needed to and wanted to. I remember bonfires on the beach, friends laughing as we mentally toasted us all with another drink.

I remember car rides full of laughter, camp outs in the rain, hugs from anyone remotely considered friend.

I remember nights of excess with friends to hold my hair back. Nights of dancing until past last call.

I remember sleep overs full of music and talking.

I remember the wind in the windows of my old Pontiac Acadian – no AC back then. It was a 5 speed, 4 door hatchback. I loved that car. It was red. I would drive that thing everywhere – quite literally. Down back roads meant for ATVs, to the beach for an all-night camp out. hundreds of miles but on the engine that constantly rattled enough to pop off it’s oil cap. So many times I had to replace that cap – “Gwen, the oil light is on.” “It’s ok, I just need another cap.”

There were no cell phones. No computers, nothing fancier than an Atari that often got left behind, covered in dust. I can feel the sun on my face even now. The smell of Spring and Summer when we would just be.

I wish somebody would have told just how awesome those days actually were going to be…but I know I wouldn’t have listened.

Mackelmore feat. Kesha – Good Old Days

Days go by

“In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: 
Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?” ― Lewis CarrollThrough the Looking Glass

Today is a good day. At least, I think it is.

It’s funny how you can wake up and feel like things are good or they are bad…or they just are.

The older I get, the more it feels like time is just an illusion – we believe it keeps a steady pace, but it rushes on and slows are the most inopportune times.

I’ve been very self-examinatory lately. My oldest child will be turning 18 in a few months and finishes high school this school year. My middle child is turning 16 soon. My youngest is going to be 4 in a few months. How has so much time already flown by? How can my first baby have gone from being in my arms to preparing for her adult life?

I’ve never been a perfect parent. Far from it I feel. I feel that I’ve missed too much, not done enough, not been enough. I try – by all the powers, I have tried.

The days go by at a pace that leaves me behind. I remember when my eldest was born, how hard it was. I remember when we adopted my middle child, my sunshine boy. I remember the fear of having a section when I had my youngest – he decided coming feet first into the world was a great idea (a week before he was due no less!).

I remember the first time I saw my first neurologist and was told I have MS. I remember my doctor telling me I have osteoarthritis (I was even younger then). I remember the first time I smoked a cigarette, I remember how I quit but not how long ago it was. It feels like forever.

I can’t remember my first kiss, but I do remember my first real boyfriend.


They are so easily lost.

I find myself constantly trying to remember. My brain has become my enemy and I try to befriend it again over and over.

Days go by, but the memories ebb and flow.

Dirty Vegas – Days go by

Too long…

“There are too many books I haven’t read, too many places I haven’t seen, too many memories I haven’t kept long enough.” Irwin Shaw

Time has been on my mind a lot lately. How much time is left before my eldest gets her license…then graduates. How much time is left before my middle child does the same. How long will it take for my youngest to tell me I am mean and he hates me.

I’ve made no secret of it – I have MS. When you have plaques (scars, really – plaques is a nice way to say your brain damaged) it affects everything. My anxiety has worsened and my ADD as well – both to the point that I have to take medication for them. I am not able to focus long enough to meditate  – which would be the ideal calming balm to my restless, damaged mind.

Time weighs on me.

My father’s mother had Alzheimer’s. There is such a beast as MS dementia, very similar. A person on the outside can look completely healthy, but the brain literally gets eaten away by the disease.

Time frightens me.

With every passing day, I feel my insecurities, my lack of willpower, my inabilities grow in volume – their voices drowning out the ones that scream to fight!

Even now I rely on spell check programs to ensure I make as few errors as possible.

I’m not too bad – not really. I am still able to work full-time. I do have bad days. I have had a lot of stress in recent months – my doctor believes I am having an MS flare. The numbness is what bothers me most. No one can see it. They can’t feel it. But it is ALWAYS there. It never leaves, at least not lately. I have had to get glasses – one nearsighted eye, one farsighted. I am in physiotherapy trying to build my body back to from where it has fallen. Arthritis in my knees, and neck. But the stress – yes, stress is a MS trigger. Without stress, I probably would be ok. But, who can avoid stress?


I’m not having a pitty party though – NO, do not mistaken this for that. This is more my way of explaining why I haven’t posted in a long while. Time runs away from me. I get caught up in trying to keep up, and all else falls to the side.

This is my way of putting it all out and bringing myself back out from the dark. It’s my battle cry – NO I will NOT go gently into that good night…


Cyndi Lauper – Time After Time

Only time

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

They say that only time can heal a wounded heart/soul/person. I would argue that. I’m almost 42 and time has done no healing. I have worked on healing myself, but time had very little to do with it.

Another day, another anxiety attack. New medications, new therapist, new outlook – maybe.

I have always found this season difficult. I love the Christmas season – I love the decorations, the veil of cheer. But under that veil is stress, hurt, worry. People spend more than they should, consumed with ensuring everyone has everything they want (not need). It strains relationships, friendships, lives.

I used to be a 911 operator. I loved that job. This time of year was always hard on everyone. More family violence, more of everything. So sad.

Time has not truly changed of that. I have changed the way I see it, the way I react to it. That doesn’t mean it’s a good change, it’s just that – a change. I’m working on it.

I hope someday that scientist will find a cure for mental health issues without side effect causing medications. I suppose, only time will tell.

Enya – Only Time