The Worth of a Human Life

Side Note 1: I may have an addiction to reading comments on Instagram Reels.

Side Note 2: I have a macabre sense of humor. And there has been more than one instance when I am sure I am just one brain switch away from being a complete sociopath.

Side Note 3: I do not fear death, or what comes after it. It is only the act of dying itself that I am leery of.

Now, on to the… what are these? External validations of internal trains of thoughts? Brain Farts?

Anyways.

I was reading a comment from an Instagram reel that was a reading of a reddit post… these are dangerous because they will suck you in. The story was basically this guy helped someone not commit suicide by not selling him… something. Details escape me because they are not important to me. Most of the comments were positive. But one was like “why do we try so hard to prevent people from killing themselves?” Or something along those lines.

Now, as someone who had a plan to commit suicide, this riled me up a bit. Part of that is because it triggered something inside of me that has been building for a long time.

We, humans, each and everyone of us, has a right to life. We are important. Not from a political, industrial, new-worker, point of view. But, each of us, from conception to death, have a right to live. I think we, as a whole, have forgotten this.

I am anti-abortion when it is used as a form of birth control. People forget that many choices have gone into the conception of a child.  Pregnancy is a consequence. Consequences are a natural result from choices made. It is all about choice and accepting the consequences.

When the very beginning of life is relegated to an afterthought and to be discarded on a whim, then ALL of life loses its worth.

This is from a different stand point. Why did we try so hard to save old people when Covid 19 was mainly affecting those who are old? I live in Korea where there is, what has been described as a “mushroom” population: not enough births to support the rapidly aging population. Covid 19 would have taken care of this. Isn’t it just nature’s way of balancing things out? (Now you know why there was a sociopath warning at the beginning).

There is value on all human life. It isn’t just for the rich, the righteous, the better off. If you take the bureaucracy, the consumerism, and politics out of it, this planet has more than enough to feed all in plenty. Not just enough, but plenty. We should be celebrating differences, learning about them. Not fighting over who is right and who is wrong.

Now, this may seem political. But when did the right to live become something to argue about instead of an inalienable right? And the right to life doesn’t stop at birth. It follows each and every one of us till we die.

So, at the long journey on this particular train, my answer to that fellow is this: we should be fighting to help others live. And not just by carrying a sign or making comments on a random Instagram reel.

So, I hope that whomever is reading this knows that you deserve to live.

And thanks for reading. I can only hope that I have helped someone, somewhere.

Biological Warfare and Pint-Sized Agents of Chaos

 

Children are agents of chaos. Part of that is just the fact that they don’t “know the rules” yet and are still figuring out how to do things. Like how NOT to spread plague and disease to everyone in the near vicinity. Then there are Minions of Chaos who have chosen that life. Whole heartedly on purpose. 

Like Evan. Not his Korean name, but definitely his English name. There is no innocence to protect here. I will name names. 

Now, Evan is an adorable eight-year-old (Korean age) child. He is a chunker with round cheeks and an adorable smile. He is also a talker and definitely has tried to get his classmates (well, one in particular, who may or may not have stabbed him with a pencil on purpose) in trouble. He is smart. However, he has definitely decided to use that power for evil.

I had Evan in kindergarten last year for all of 2 months and was so glad when he graduated, I left that school, and I would never have to deal with him again.

God, and Korean Immigration, had other plans for me.

So, for 8 days, I have been back at my old school where Evan comes 3 days a week after school for English lessons. Evan is the type of kid who will hold his arm/fist a foot away from his face when he coughs. Which seems to be ALL THE TIME.

I have just finally started sleeping through the night without coughing a couple of weeks ago. But then the Minion of Chaos, being fully loaded with a biological weapon, decided to, on purpose, cough without covering his mouth. When reminded of what was told him DAILY just a month ago, he laughed like the diabolical terrorist he is, and said he won’t be doing that any more.

EXCUSE ME? I didn’t realize that germs stopped being spread when a child graduates from kindergarten.

Now, I am once again sick and trying to desperately breath through my nose, though that is a hit or miss battle. I KNOW it was from him. Despite half of my other students being sick. No. It was the tiny terrorist and his diabolical plan to get everyone within a ten meter radius sick.  

Little jerk.

Riding the Subway. But Not In Seoul.

Yesterday I travelled to Daejeon, an hour or two by train (depending on how much money you shell out. I am cheap, so I take the slow train). I get on the subway with my glasses on, so that I can read the signs of where I need to go. I am reading said signs and see that their one line is actually named Line 1.

Huh?

You only have one.

It goes from North West to South East. One line. In terms of Miriam Sound effects (which my jerk six-year-old students make fun of): shoom shoom.

No transfers. No getting off a train. Walking five minutes. Up stairs. Down stairs. Walk another three minutes. Around a corner. Click your heels three times. Jump across a river. Hope you don’t get lost, but will inevitably do (I’m looking at you, Seoul Station). Miss the train by five seconds, but you only have to wait six minutes for the next train. Find a bench that isn’t too occupied by the elderly. Sit down to wait. Because you are old. But not that old. So you should probably stand. But your knees hurt…

Wait. What was I talking about?

Daejeon. One line. Called Line 1.

Now, I get ready to get onto the Line 1 train. I was trained on the Seoul metro. Survival of the fittest. I was worried when I saw so many people waiting to get on. There were only 4 seats. Only four seats for 10 people getting on? Oh boy. I wasn’t expecting it to be so busy on a Saturday afternoon. But I’ve got this. I’m fast. Well, as fast as my bad knees (which are doing better!) will allow me. I rush on and… nothing. No problem. I didn't even need to use my cut throat skills to get a seat. No one else wanted it.  

Wait… NO ONE wants to sit down? Huh?

I enjoyed my seat. On the only line: Line 1. In the smaller than Seoul carriages. I haven’t googled it, but the train seems… smaller than the ones I used to. Shorter. Less roomy. Darker. 

The darkness one is real. That doesn’t require research on the size difference between Seoul and Daejeon metro subway cars. They definitely use different, yellower, light bulbs.

Now my ADHD is kicking in and I need to go do some research.

I wish you all well. Whoever is reading this. If anyone is reading this.

Thanks for reading this, if you are in fact, reading this.

Cheerio and good morning. Or good night. I will not presume to know what time you are reading, or not reading, this.

I must go do my hair. Which is the reason I was even in Daejeon. But that is for another time.

How to Mourn a Dream that May Never Happen

 I am no longer a spring chicken. I am what a fan of Jane Austen, Bridgerton, and the Bronte Sisters, would call a "spinster". Well past my prime. An Auntie, if you would. Or… dare I say, a yet-to-be cat lady? Will I die alone with my fifteen cats who will eventually eat me because they have no other source of food??? In forty two years… since I have decided I don’t want to live past eight-four…

I’ve got time to worry about hungry cats.

My laundry is singing the song of its people. I must type faster.

I have had a dream since I was young. When asked what I wanted to be in elementary school I would answer a mom. Or an astronaut. It was the 80s, astronauts were cool. However, a hatred of math, a fear of falling, and a general sense of dread when I contemplate the vastness of space put a stop to that dream.

But what about the other one? The dream I had of finding a prince charming, a knight in shiny armor, a rugged firefighter-esque type to come sweep me off my feet and buy me a house and give me my five children, who all have names and personalities in my mind? What about THAT dream. Which should have been a completely reasonable goal to achieve.

But alas! No R2D2 to my C3PO, no Batman to my Robin, no Robin Hood to my Maid Marian (which is NOT how you spell my name, I am going for historic accuracy). Or would I be Little John? And which version do I want to be?

But I digress. I will save that rabbit hole of a thought process for some fateful night when I can’t get to sleep and I actually remember this internal dialogue.

Back to my dream.

I read an article somewhere (since I do that frequently, and rarely remember the WHERE of the reading) about someone talking about how do you mourn the death of the dream of having children. People mourn the death of a child. People mourn still born child who they never really got to meet. People mourn miscarriages. But how do you mourn a child who only existed in your heart and mind?

It hurts. Because I can’t really talk about it. Not that I think society allows people to properly mourn a stillborn or a miscarriage (I send hugs to all of the moms who have angel babies). But to not even have something tangible to hold onto in the first place?

So, I hold onto faith. I hold onto the promise that God loves me. Coming close to God does help. I always scoffed at people who said that. I am cynical and am SLOWLY changing my heart.

It still hurts sometimes. I teach kindergarten age children in Korea. I know God was like “Here you go, a reason NOT to have children. Oh, and reassurance, that once it does happen, you will be a good mom”.

Will I have children? I don’t know. I have faith and hope. Are there days when it hurts? Yeah. Are there days I am sure I will be world’s worst mother and screw up my children? Way more than there should be.

But then there are days when I get hugs from my kids, who are not my kids. And there are days when I remember that life isn’t over yet. My cats haven’t eaten me yet.

Here is to tomorrow and the dream that I refuse to let die. Here is to Joshua and Rebecca (they named themselves, probably to prevent me from naming them something weird. I’m a writer. The temptation is there). I look forward to meeting you. One day.

Do the right thing, even if you don't want to

 There is power in being in the right place at the right time. There is courage in doing something you don’t want to, even though it is the right thing to do.

I have not always been active in my church. Not that I didn’t believe. I have social anxiety that is tripped by church. Because you are supposed to be happy at church. And so many times I was most definitely not happy. Depression will do that to you.

But, recently, I have been making an effort to attend regularly. I also have the assignment to teach Sunday School to 7/8/9 year olds. Not sure of the exact range. They yelled out their ages when I incorrectly aged them. I talk a lot about how they need to learn good habits NOW so they aren’t like me, 40 something years old, and trying to STILL figure out my faith.

Do I regret my life? No. It is hard to regret the choices you make. Going back in time, would you change them? Maybe. But you made the choice the first time, so you are more than likely going to make the same choices again. I am smart, stubborn, and for some unknown reason, I think that it is most definitely not going to happen to me. Even as it is/has/most definitely will.

So, all of this comes to this past Sunday. I had gone out on an adventure/tour of a city far from Seoul on Saturday and hadn’t gotten back to my apartment till about midnight. I was exhausted. There was more walking than I had wanted to do (which, honestly, isn’t saying much. I hate walking) and my body was not happy with me.

I’ve also been having a crisis of faith. Nothing major. Just God telling me to WAIT for somethings. I hate waiting. I am not good at waiting. I have low patience. Probably the reason God has been making me wait. You can’t grow if you don’t challenge yourself. Or God decides you need to grow and thus gives you growing opportunities.

So, there I was, Sunday morning, deciding if I NEEDED to go to church. I was tired. My co-teacher could teach the class. My body ached. I was just not feeling it.

I finally forced myself to get up, promising myself I could take a taxi (quite a luxury for me) to and from church if I would just go.

I told God that I wasn’t happy about this, but I knew I needed to be at church on Sunday.

There was definite hobbling to and from the taxi. I was grumbling while I made my way to my regular pew.

BUT something happened while I was sitting there. I felt peace. And for someone who lives with chaos of doubts and second guessing swirling around my head, it was a definitely blessing.

As I sat (admittedly playing games to distract my hands so that my ears could listen) I even got an answer to my problem: trust in the Lord. A repeated message I’ve gotten for the past few months.

God honors His promises. Faith is believing in those promises. It isn’t easy for me. I worry. I worry A LOT. I want to know everything NOW. Trusting that something is going to work out is hard.

But, as I am sitting here, at 11pm when I really should be going to bed, writing this, I know I did the right thing. I was at the right place at the right time. I was where I was supposed to be.

Could I have “called in sick” to church. Yes. I was legitimately not feeling well. But I knew that I could do it. God knew where I was supposed to be. I also believe that doing the right thing even when you don’t want to leads to good habits and a changed heart. And I am okay with that.

So, I will continue to do the right thing, even if I really REALLY don’t want to and allow God to change my heart. I have seen myself change enough to know that it is worth it. 

Ducklings of Death

This is the third in a series that was only supposed to be two. 

These characters come from my 2nd book- which is not done being edited. Past Miriam just put "fix this" and didn't tell Future Miriam how to do that... silly Past Miriam 

There are some characters in Demons of Isabelle of Grace: Thicker Than Water that, not only would they not die, but they are demanding they are main characters in a new story. So... this is them. And since I am trying my hand at screenplays, I wrote it as a TV pilot. I think this is what they wanted all along. 

Sigh. 

You know how some things are funny to you until you have to say them out loud? Yeah... the title, Ducklings of Death, worked when it was just a title for a story that hadn't even been started beyond a couple of pages on my desktop. Same as certian names of characters. It was funny writing it. Made me giggle on multiple occassions. Not so much now. Well, that is a lie. It still makes me giggle, but for different reasons. BUT, I have committed. And it will stay. I will fight any director/producer on it. The names of charcters, not the title. PLEASE someone help me come up with something better. 

If you have made it though that rant, here is the first couple of scenes. Enjoy. 

FADE IN:

                       SCENE: INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

The warehouse is dark, barely lit by street lights filtering through broken windows. Broken beams, debris on fire, and smoke fill the room.

Dark shapes are littered among the debris across the floor.

We MOVE TOWARDS the far side, dodging broken furniture and dead bodies. Some bodies, that are humanoid in shape, but not human at all, are slowly deflating/crumbling till all that is left are piles of dirt and ash.

BACKGROUND MUSIC STARTS: A soft lullaby (possibly The Piano Guys- Eye of the Tiger)

                      Ext. The Moore’s Childhood Home, Back Yard - Midmorning.

FLASHBACK

DEREK, age 6, is running around with ALEXANDER, age 10. They are both dressed up in costumes: Derek is wearing a firefighter helmet and one of his uncle’s FD t-shirts and Alexander is wearing a generic mask and cape.

UNCLE GUS, a man in his early to mid-thirties, fit and in a matching FD t-shirt, COMES INTO VIEW, chasing the kids. They run away from him, occasionally turning to “shoot” the monster chasing them.

On the porch, in the background, are MR. and MRS. MOORE, both in their forties, drinking coffee.

DEREK (V.O.)

When I was a kid I wanted to be a fireman. My uncle Gus was a firefighter. I had thought he was the coolest person ever. I had wanted to save people like him one day.

                      INT. WAREHOUSE - CONTINUIOUS

There is movement caught in the street/moonlight. We GET CLOSER.

PAN down to show two men, one lying face down on top of adult DEREK, dark haired, not really handsome, who is face up, looking dead.

                      INT. MOORE’S HOUSE, UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - EARLY MORNING

A sleepy Derek, in cute pjs, opens a door down the hallway. He comes out, carrying a stuffed animal, rubbing his eyes. As he walks down the hallway, his footsteps also slow down and he brings the teddy bear up to hug it.

Before Derek can get all the way down the hallway a DOOR BEHIND HIM OPENS and Alexander pulls Derek into his room. The door shuts quickly.

                      INT. ALEXANDER’S ROOM - EARLY MORNING

Alexander is holding one hand against Derek’s mouth while holding a finger to his own mouth.

Something outside draws their attention, causing the boys to look up/back towards the door.

Alexander pulls Derek away from the door and into the closest. They huddle down in there, with Alexander protectively covering Derek’s ears.

Another sound causes Alexander to flinch. Tears start to fall down his face.

                      INT. WAREHOUSE - CONTINUIOUS

Derek twitches, then inhales sharply, his eyes popping open.

MUSIC STOPS.

DEREK

If I had known where life would take me, and how I would be “saving people”, I would have wanted to be a plumber like my dad. Saving people is overrated.  Screw the world. I want to live.

                      SCENE: EXT. CLUB OLYMPUS - MID AFTERNOON

Across the street is Club Olympus: an old building, as such can be found in Hollywood. There is… something off about the building: it seems darker than the surrounding buildings.

There are Happy New Years signs on the street posts and the buildings surrounding the club, but nothing on the club except for a large “Closed” sign.

There are pedestrians walking by quickly: it is chilly and no one wants to dawdle. When they pass the club entrance, they seem to shiver extra hard. Some of them pull their coats closer around them.

As we watch a nondescript, slightly older model, generic sedan pulls up to a parking meter and turns off the engine.

CUT TO:

CLOSE UP on the car.

A plain sneaker/converse foot steps out of the car.

PULL BACK to see Derek step out of car, dressed in jeans and a peacoat. He quickly steps to the sidewalk. Once there he stares up at the building for a long time.

DEREK

Crap

Derek sighs. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through the numbers. He hesitates for a moment, then presses the call button.

Derek goes back to studying the building as he listens to the ring tone.

OPERATOR (O.S.)

The person you are trying to reach is not avail—

Derek ends the called, annoyed.

Derek is about to put the phone away when another person comes to mind. He is even more reluctant to call this person.

The phone rings, but he doesn’t put it to his ear. After a long time, the person on the other lines picks up.

                      SCENE: EXT. GRIFFITH OBSERVATORY - MID AFTERNOON

There are a few people, tourists mostly, walking around the observatory. We CLOSE IN on HERBERT sitting on the west wall facing the Hollywood Sign, calmly eating a bag of chips. He is a clean-cut All-American college grad student: tall, fit, nicely styled golden brown hair and nice clothes.

From his pocket comes a cheerful tune. Herbert quickly pulls out his phone. He deflates a bit when he sees DEREK on the caller ID. After a long moment of contemplation, Herbert reluctantly accepts the call.

INTERCUT PHONE CALL:

HERBERT

What can I do for you, Derek?

                      EXT. CLUB OLYMPUS - CONTINUOUS

Derek puts the phone to his ear reluctantly.

DEREK

Hey Herbert. I was wondering if you were with Iggy.

Herbert eats another chip.

DEREK

(impatiently)

Are you still there?

HERBERT

Yep.

DEREK

Look, I wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t important. But I need to talk to Iggy. Now, if possible.

HERBERT

Yeah. I understood what you wanted the first time. I just wasn’t sure how to tell you Izzy isn’t here.

DEREK

Then where is she?

HERBERT

I am not her social calendar.

DEREK

Who uses the phrase “social calendar”?

HERBERT

I know lots of people who do. Maybe if you hung out with more educated people, you would know people who use that phrase too.

DEREK

(reigns in anger)

Look. Do you know where Iggy is or not?

HERBERT

Since I don’t know anyone by that name, I can’t help you.

Derek takes a deep breath and tries again.

DEREK

Look, you over educated, dictionary carrying—

HERBERT

(interrupting)

I don’t know where Izzy is. She isn’t here. As in, she isn’t even in the state. She left a couple of days ago and just started driving east. I think she is in New Mexico.

DEREK

(beat. What?!)

She just packed up her life and left? Like, left left? Not coming back left?

(beat)

Is she moving back to Florida?

Herbert laughs, but not out of humor. He contemplates the contents of the chip bag.

HERBERT

She just back from being home. It didn’t go so well.

(beat)

Is there something I can help you with?

Derek looks back up at the club sign.

DEREK

Yeah. You can. Do you remember Club Olympus?

HERBERT

That was the club with the Bacchanal demon. 

DEREK

Apparently. I’ve got a case and my only lead is this club.

HERBERT

Izzy killed that demon a month ago. Right after she kicked you out of her life.

Herbert smugly eats another chip.

DEREK

Do you happen to know what happened to the survivors? Wait. Wasn’t your girlfriend one of the demon’s minions?

Herbert almost chokes on his chip.

HERBERT

Raquel. And she has been my ex-girlfriend for months now.

DEREK

(Under his breath)

Could’ve fooled me.

(Louder)

Do you have her number?

HERBERT

I have her old number. Do you want that?

Derek looks back up at the club sign.

DEREK

I think I’m going to need it. 

HERBERT

(beat)

I think I can do you one better than Raquel. Let me make some calls. Are you in LA now?

DEREK

I’m standing in front of the club.

HERBERT

Why did you wait till you were at the club before calling?

DEREK

Because I didn’t make the connection till I was standing in front of the building. I wasn’t paying attention to the name of the club that night. You and Iggy just dragged me along for the ride.

HERBERT

You volunteered because you didn’t think Izzy and I could handle it on our own. Which, we did.

DEREK

But you didn’t handle it that night, did you?

HERBERT

Let me make some calls and I will get back to you.

Herbert hangs up abruptly.

Derek stares down at his phone. He sneers at it before putting it back in his jacket pocket.

Derek stares up at the building. He shivers and adjusts his shoulders as if there is an itch between them. He surveys his surroundings.

Nothing seems out of place.

Derek warily gives up trying to figure out what is tripping his senses and goes back to his car to wait.

                      INT. DEREK’S CAR - MID AFTERNOON

Derek’s car is mostly clean. There is a pile of papers on the seat next to him as well as a bag full of junk food and snacks.

Derek sits in the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He pulls out a folder from the papers on the seat. He opens it.

Derek mindlessly grabs a snack sized bag of chips, same brand but different flavor from Herbert’s. He opens it and munches on some ships as he reviews the file.

We LOOK OVER HIS SHOULDER. Inside, on the left is a picture of a girl, young, late teens/early twenties, smiling. She has a pretty smile and looks full of life. She is wearing a SUNFLOWER NECKLACE.

On the right side of the folder is a missing person flyer, with a different picture, but she is still wearing the sunflower necklace. We see her NAME: SUMMER LANGE. AGE: 19. MISSING SINCE NOVEMBER 14TH. 

DEREK (V.O.)

Demons are real. I had spent my late teens and early twenties hunting them down. I had walked away from the demon hunting life four years ago.

Derek finishes the chips then throws the empty bag back into the snack bag. He closes the file and throws it back onto the seat next to him.

Derek leans down/over to look at the club again through the window.

DEREK (V.O.)

Now I just ignored them. Like a sane person. But this case was looking like something from that world. 

Derek’s phone goes off. He looks at the phone. The words WONDER BREAD flashes across the screen. He puts the phone on speaker.

DEREK

Did you get ahold of Iggy?

HERBERT (O.S.)

No. But I have two survivors of the Bacchanal demon who are willing to meet with you. Can you meet us in Korea Town in an hour?

DEREK

I can try. Send me an address.

Herbert hangs up without saying goodbye.

DEREK

No goodbye? Sheesh. I honestly don’t understand what Iggy sees in you.

Derek waits to get the address. He puts it into the maps, then puts his phone in the holder so he can see where he is going. He starts the cars and starts to drive.

                      SCENE: EXT. CLUB OLYMPUS - CONTINUIOUS

As we watch the car pull away, a single pedestrian crosses into view. It is an elderly gentleman, excessively wrapped up in a long trench coat, a long fluffy scarf, and a fedora style hat pulled low so we can’t see his eyes.

ZOOM IN to see him pause in front of club.

THE DEMON adjusts his scarf and we see that his hands are strange. His skin has a pinkish tint and is scaly like a fish. His nails are thick and pointed. Not quite claws, but close enough.

We PAN UP to look at his face. He is staring up at the club. We can’t see his eyes, since the hat is shadowing his face, unnaturally.

The demon chuckles, and smiles. We can see the hint of sharper than normal teeth. He tips his hat and dips his head. He turns and continues on his way.