Samurai Champloo

Once in a while I find an entertaining television series to binge watch on Netflix. I am emotionally invested in the plot and it's characters. It's always a plus when there's a love story in there. I get anxious at the end and maybe I fast forward through filler to the climax. Once it's over I spend a good amount of time processing what happened and it's re-watch value.
What do I do now? Google possible sequels?
That is how I numb myself from reality.

I was thinking the other day that maybe in a past life I lived Japan. That's why I feel such a fondness for their disciplinary culture and history. I was also thinking that I must have done something awful for love, because I was reborn as an American and I'm a single mother.
I try to obey the morality of what I think the universe projects and I am accepted by the rewards for my honest work. However, my punishment is living as an outcast amongst a selfish and ignorant mass of human beings. The only ones that have any amount of awareness, struggle with their own exceptence and what society wants them to be. Drinking their lives away, living to hurt other people with their carelessness. A never ending list.
I try to be strong and set an example by keeping a level head, being honest and standing my ground. In public I am able to hide my violent temper behind a mask of tolerance. My grandfather told me I would probably never get married because I had little manners or respect. I voiced controversial opinions like anti racism, atheism, pro abortion and my problem with authority. I didn't tell him that I thought marriage was a dying concept. Overtime I realized that the expectations of women from older generations were still embedded into society. I could compare my grandfather's interactions with me to previous boyfriends that felt threatened by my intelligence and strength. Not that I was even that intelligent.
Along the way, my unique demeanor would be chalked up to Asperger syndrome. The definition always amuses me;
A developmental disorder affecting the ability to socialize or communicate.

That is one of many disorders they label you if you don't learn the same way the majority of people are said to learn. I call it indoctrinating.
I learned how to communicate from animals. I understood their sensory language. It seemed to come naturally to me. I felt like I was born with a stronger sense of instinct. Instincts that are slowly becoming desensitized by technology. It was finding room for all of these filler emotions is what fucked me up along the way. I struggled for acceptance from society for what seemed like eternity.
I was boy crazy. Driven to find that happily ever after fantasy played out in all of the movies I watched growing up. School didn't matter. What was education? I was brainwashed by this idea and neglected by any nurturing environment.
Except for the company of animals.
It was my cats that taught me how to explore, be playful, be rough and defend myself. I didn't get much from hamsters. Birds made me sad as they nervously paced around in their cages longing to use the wings they were born to function with. It was dogs that really helped me begin to understand what human beings were.

At first it was a cute thing to do. My mother sent me to stay with many members of both sides of the family. The same family members who turned their backs on me once my cute innocence was gone. They all had dogs. They thought my love for dogs was cute and were unaware of the psychological impact it was having on me.
Most of my canine companions were very tolerant of me, some were happier when I was in their company. Some were suspicious. Some couldn't be bothered. I was even attacked by one. After that incident, everyone assumed I would be terrified of dogs. But I was in the wrong when I was bitten and despite stitches on the side of my ass, I wanted to understand more.
My first dog was a Curly coated retriever named Dakota, from a store in the mall that was later shut down due to their association with puppy mills. I spent hours with him exploring the forests, following the sights, sounds and smells of our surroundings. I'll never forget how alive I felt out there. Then I was under the pressure from my mother to potty train him, stop him from accidents in the house, under the constant threat to give him up. Dakota taught me forgiveness. No matter how angry I was with him or what I did to him, he still loved me. When we had to give him up I wanted to know how to teach them our language.
That's when I dove into dog training. Learning basic commands, training techniques, and a little bit of psychology from books and videos. I started working with friends dogs, assessing their problems and working on my own  techniques to fix them.
I did this off and on for years. Volunteering at animal shelters, service dog training programs, working at a grooming salon and eventually having paying clients of my own.
Then I realized it wasn't the dogs I was training. I wasn't helping the them at all, only pacifying materialistic people projecting this ideal behavior onto their pets.
Dogs taught me how deceptive human beings are and that it's hard to trust their instability. Lying, backstabbing, cheating, manipulating to get what they want, to fit in. Filler emotion. They taught me how to live my life; be aware of my surroundings, be loyal, stand my ground, defend my friends, how to read body language, how to read people's emotions and unconditional love.
I don't know if many humans are worthy of that kind of love.