From the Kentucky coal mine to the California sun

Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.

I wish I had written that lyric. A simple phrase big enough to live your life around. Something that everyone – no matter who you are – can not only relate to, but believe in. Agree with. Strive for. Wish for.

Kris Kristofferson may have written the song, but Janis Joplin is the one who gave it life. It’s her voice that makes you feel the words. Hearing about her traveling cross country with her companion Bobby would make anyone want to pack it up and head out into the sunset. See the world without a watch. Tossing your schedule out the window as you go full steam ahead into the unknown.

What is your freedom?

We all express our own freedom in different ways. And there are those who are so strapped down to life’s demands, they don’t allow themselves to even dream of their own freedom. One person’s freedom is another’s luxury.

I’ve stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower and peered into the night sky viewing the beautiful Paris lights. I’ve floated down a river in Bangkok visually taking in the enormous gold encrusted mansions. I’ve visited a small German village, rubbed elbows with the locals and walked through a several-centuries-old castle. I’ve relaxed on a beach in Grand Cayman mesmerized by the bluest ocean I’ve ever seen.

Freedom? Sure, I have had the freedom to live these experiences in a world where others may not be so free. I also have the freedom to work, drive, and vote… all of which are unfathomable in some countries.

As free as these things may make me, they are not my freedom.

My freedom is internal. My freedom is the ability to sort through my feelings and own them. To express my thoughts and not be judged. To not be controlled by someone else’s games and expectations. To show love and to be loved without being under the umbrella of fear.

This is my freedom because I find it hard to achieve. If freedom came easily it would not be called freedom. We have to paddle through treacherous rapids before we can truly experience the calm essence of freedom.

If freedom truly is another word for nothing left to lose, we have to actually get ahead of our life, turn around, see everything as it is, accept it and own it. It’s impossible to move forward in freedom when you still have strings attached behind you.

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Nothing, and that's all that Bobby left me, yeah.

She loved her life with Bobby. They shared the love of the road as well as an emotional connection. But no matter how much they had together, it wasn’t enough for Bobby. He left in search of his own freedom. His own home. To satisfy his own internal need for something else. Something better.

I guess Bobby felt he had nothing left to lose. Nothing, including Janis. Even though she was left behind, she loved him. She said she would trade all her tomorrows for one single yesterday.

Sounds like Janis needed to have learned a little bit about freedom from Bobby. I think she always knew his placement in her life wasn’t permanent. The part of him she loved so much was the same part that caused him to leave.

Funny when that happens.

Spewing expletives would have made me feel better.

I believe her apology, but I don’t believe her reasoning.

I can be crass at times. I’ve been told I have a sharp tongue. My humor is expressed through insults, sarcasm and harmless physical interaction. And one who carries these attributes can generally recognize others who do as well.

I love bantering with those who share my humor. I’m open game to your comedic insults and am prepared to bounce them right back. To be granted a front row seat in my life, quick wit will get you there. You either have it or you don’t. And if you don’t, the backfire can be a bitch.

Insulting someone without the backdrop of humor is very dangerous. But what is worse, is insulting someone just to be mean and then later using the excuse of humor as a way to dig yourself out of a self-inflicted hole. It doesn’t work. The table is then turned and you end up looking like an idiot. Sweating under that hot spotlight, you realize your wiggle room is rapidly decreasing.

Although I now find the humor in the following story, it still hits a sensitive nerve that I cannot shake.

It was beautiful outside. Standing on the sidelines of a little league football game, I felt the cool breeze and realized that autumn was well on its way. Good weather, good friends, a good game and my loyal companion ChaCha by my side. Not being a sports-kinda-gal, I didn’t know the rules of the game. I may not know what a fumble is, but I cheered on the team as if I were a football fanatic. Life was good. Spirits were high. We were living out a Norman Rockwell painting.

That is until she walked over.

The Scene: I’m standing next to a long-time friend watching his nine year old son push people down on the football field and ChaCha is sweetly sitting at my feet. My friend’s 72 year old mother is there. Although one would assume she’s there to watch her grandson play football, turns out she was there to irritate the hell out of me.

She walks over to me and stands right in front of me looking me straight in the eyes…

Her: Your dog is ugly.
Me: ---
Her: ---
Me: Excuse me?
Her: He’s ugly.
Me: No she’s not.
Her: Yes he is.
Me: SHE is NOT ugly.
Her: Yes he is.
Me: (giving her “go straight to hell” look)
Her: I guess he’s nice, but he’s ugly.

It was at this point I had a decision to make.

I could either call her a variety of words that would make even a sailor blush… or I could walk away. I thought about the first option. I already had the words picked out and in what order I was going to say them. Cussing out a 72 year old woman didn’t bother me. Cussing her out in front of small children didn’t even bother me. What bothered me was cussing out my friend’s mother. I respect my friend. I love him dearly and I felt verbally assaulting his mother right in front of him might cause some sort of wrinkle in our friendship. Especially since he didn’t hear her verbally assault me first because he was too busy rooting on his future NFL player.

So I chose option B. Not the most fun out of the two options. However, before I jetted off with my ugly dog, I did give her the meanest look I’ve ever given anyone. My evil look reached through her pupils and so deep into her soul I know it had to have caused her physical pain. I swear she turned to stone and crumbled as I pivoted away.

Let’s break this down…

I may think your dog is ugly. I may even talk to my friends about it and snicker behind your back. But I would never – NEVER – tell you to your face “Your dog is ugly.” Never. There are just certain things in life you don’t have to be honest about. It’s okay to have an opinion and NOT share it. Plus, ChaCha isn’t ugly. I think that’s what peeves me the most. She’s not. Here’s proof and here’s proof.

Later that evening I discussed the hateful situation with my friend. I told him his mother was rude and I felt she owed me an apology.

Flash forward two days later…

I’m walking out of my garage to water my soon-to-be-dead flowers and I find this irritant of a woman on my front porch. She’s looking for me. Great.

Her: Becca, come here I want to talk to you.
Me: Well, I’m kinda busy. Why don’t you come down here.
Her: I was told I hurt your feelings.
Me: Uh, yup. You sure did.
Her: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was only playing.
Me: Playing? You weren’t playing.
Her: I’m sorry.
Me. You know, there are certain things in life you DON’T do. That’s to say to someone’s face that their kid or pet is ugly. It’s just rude.
Her: Please accept my apology?
Me: It’s accepted. This is over.

She said she was “playing.” That’s crap.

I can’t believe she pulled out the humor card. She obviously doesn’t realize she’s talking to the Queen of Sarcasm. I invented sarcasm. I own it. And she’s no where close to it. Plus even if that were the case, she would have apologized a second after she said it due to the crushed look on my face. You don’t play like that. At least not with me. I know how to play and that ain’t playing.

I’m sure I’ll get over this eventually. Surely. I mean, if someone told me this story, I would find it quite humorous. Getting all in a huff because someone said your dog is ugly sounds like a Seinfeld plot.

Even though I’m sure I don’t have to prove to anyone again that ChaCha’s not ugly, here’s more proof.

Ok, I’m done. I’m totally over it now. Time for me to go feed my ugly dog.