B I T C H

We hear this word more often than not. It doesn’t have to be before a gun shot goes off. Or after the thought of someone mistreating another. Don’t bother to guess because I’ll tell you anyways. The word we used started to describe a female dog. And not the kind that just sits on a log waiting to be petted. No, this kind of dog is the one that's over sexed. Or how they say it? in heat. Let me not beat around the bush but it may used when a woman is not in heat but being beaten. Normally it isn’t for the women that are sweetened a little, no its the women that seem to taste like a lemon. It’s not for the smitten kitten who seems to be wearing mittens sitting in the kitchen on Reddit. Its for the villain or the timid chicken in the story. Its the timid chicken swimming in someone else’s linens in prison.

The word is bitch. When I get nervous I itch the side of my arm or the side of my head. This word bitch makes me itch and twitch. A bit ago I found myself on the ridge of this word though I think I found a bridge that doesn’t glitch. A bridge to start to build the gap and remove it from the word witch or bewitched. It removes the word from bullying. Mistreating. It helps to improve us, women. It’s called conversation and to remove the starvation of attention to this word. I call to attention the usage and the abusive tendency it has to offer.

Feminist are starting to change it or is that just Beyonce. Or I’m I saying Beyonce because I like to use Beyonce in all my spoken words? Bow down bitches? Or is the  mountain range feminist have to climb high and far but by far this is one word has to change.

Then there is another phrase that has been developing. The ways in which it seems to be staying is relevant in that fact that we now dress up as them in Halloween, even the tweens do. In today culture it may seem native to this breed and it is anything but invasive...or is it? Basic bitch. A basic bitch defined in my handy dandy urban dictionary comes out to be a “bum-ass woman who think she the shit but really ain’t”, although the one that struck in my head the most was number 4, “A person, particularly a female, who believes they are the shit because they own a certain type of clothing/material that differentiates them from other people. They may also believe they hold a higher standard then regular people.” Somebody who is boring and unoriginal....They are not scoring or roaring their achievements, they are pouring with snoring attitudes.

But when you think basic bitch, all you think is a bland white female middle upper class woman. Is the term tearing down a culture? A gender? Or is it just fun to say?
When we surrender to this terminology, we render the word and make in slender than the actually meaning by putting all the definitions in a blender and calling it funny.

Is it acceptable? Are we making this word adaptable? IF the skeleton of the word falls in to the wrong hands it does make it extremely terrible. My dream however is to ream out the ugliness of the word bitch and be able to scream it whenever. The word when you say it makes you feel some type of power. Is that good? Beyonce does say bow down bitches but Jay Z says 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one...
What does the word bitch do to you? Does it itch the back of your throat and make your voice go into a high pitch? Is your brain unhitched from your tongue which makes it impossible for you to see that the word bitch, basic bitch, bitches, needs some action, some reaction?

If you call me a bitch I won’t twitch, flinch, and have an allergic reaction to this transaction but let it roll off your tongue because it has flung off my tongue like a pile dung before. It has sprung out and stung the ones close by me. But when I say “My Chain hits my chest/When I’m banging on the dashboard/My chain hits my chest/When I’m banging on the radio” I feel like a bad bitch.

Rest in My Laughter

"A tornado flew around my room before you came

Excuse the mess it made, it usually doesn't rain

In Southern California, much like Arizona"

Alarm off no wait alarm to snooze. Ten more minutes

"A tornado flew around my room before you"

Alarm off. Get up. Change my clothes. wash my face. put something on my face. do something with this hair. 

Go downstairs. Make coffee. Make lunch. make breakfast.

Get in the car. clock in. sit down for report. 

Read through the sheet. Act like nothing bothers you. nothing bothers anyone here. Then wait you see something huge and the words “What the fuuuu?!?” spew out. 

I have these stories jumbled in my head.

I force them in sometimes so they don’t tumble out to the floor. 

They will either bore them or frighten them and silence ensues. 

Kids yelling Kids screaming. Kids saying Fuck you. 

little hands doing grown up things. 

little minds not so little here. 

though most of the stories make me laugh. and when you bring them to the surface for others to hear there is no laughter. 

But when you work my job, laughter is what saves you. bow down to laughter. behave in front of it or it disowns you.

I’ve been swung at, I’ve been cursed at by a 6 year old, I’ve been grabbed at, my chest has been grabbed. But I haven’t been bitten, yet. Though my clothes have been ripped. 

I’ve been a support system….a safe ground. I smile to find and hide in your pocket forever. I’ve been a friend for 8 hours. I’ve secretly cried on the inside when they told me their story. 

I’ve asked them, if you could combine two animals what would it be and what would you call it?

I’ve asked them, you have two months to travel all paid for where do you go?

I’ve asked them, you are stranded on an island what two items that you can buy on amazon would you pick?

I haven’t asked…how long did it take you to make those scars on your arms? I haven’t asked how did you escape from that last mental hospital? I haven’t asked what did you think about last night in those super fucking cold rooms?

Instead I make them think and tink around their mind to find that someone here is willing to be their friend. and not have to bend over backwards. 

Performance performance performance appraisal. one year down in the pin. at work I try to do my best in any situation even if this might not be my vocation. Someone mentioned that I appeared unprofessional but over all I was professional. I get it. I’m too funny for work. I get it I’m too laid back for kids who talk to doctors all day. that see shadows in their room. that think the only way to survive is to die. I get it my humor isn't wanted. I get it having my mom die and falling into thoughts of suicide means I can’t be professional and having my degrees in Psych doesn’t mean a thing. I get it. 

though Laughter, I want to laugh. I want to laugh like a giraffe does, isn’t that a funny picture? I want to laugh like the golden cafe did when the Israelites were anxious for Moses to come down. I want to practice a level of care that isn't obnoxious, that doesn’t make you anxious, that isn’t being an actress or actor like that other doctors, I want to be a blank canvas for those who are anxious, obnoxious, actress or actors 

The factor is, what are you going to do when they reach the boiling point reactor. You gotta be the butt joint to hinge the joint from rage to a page of chronic laughter.

Being harmonic with not their demonic side but the laughter that's inside. 

When the page turner comes around in report and nothing makes sense to how they are acting…you gotta say What the fuck is going on…If I have to spit and spat like donald duck to make one of them laugh then I can pass that on as a success that I did my best.