For Marrie

Marrie had a post on her blog about how she saw herself and I was intrigued; it was an excellent post. She asked the question, "how do you see yourself?" Well, Marrie, here is part of the answer.

The first memory I have of being aware of myself is one of my middle brother T and I. We were outside the house in Amarillo, I was about four and he around two. I picked up a can of WD-40 and sprayed it, the nozzle was pointing toward him and it sprayed in his eyes. I didn't know what a nozzle was or which way to point it. I just pushed the top down. When I took T inside to get my Mom, she kept asking me what happened, I told her he did it. I was too afraid to tell her I did it and it was an accident. So, I saw myself as a liar, as a guilty liar. And I worried for a long time about it.

In elementary school I had a "friend" (and I use the term loosely) named Monica. She at one point turned our whole fifth grade class against me. It was terrible. But because I thought Jesus would have been her friend I desperately pursued her friendship. I am the village idiot to the nth degree. Monica's mother would not let her come to my house or spend the night at my house. If we wanted to spend time together outside of school I had to go to her house. I didn't understand why then, but I do now. I distinctly remember one time when Monica stood at our front door (a RARITY) and her mother was looking inside through the screen door. I will never forget the look in her eyes. The look was one of disgust and contempt. Why should her daughter associate with "those" kind of people? "Those" being ones without sufficient income in her eyes.

I started playing basketball in the fourth grade. My Dad used to come to games when he had the chance which was great. I have always loved my Dad. He is one of the greatest men I know. However the car ride on the way home was always terrible because I never seemed to play defense hard enough or I could have made the shot if I'd practiced more at the beginning of the week... don't get me wrong. Dad was just trying to encourage. He didn't know. But a lot of the reason I stopped playing (later in life that is) is because I was never going to be good enough. Never. And that's how I've always felt. Always. It's like carrying around a ton of bricks. Now that I'm divorced, since I married a man who didn't want me on numerous levels (emotionally, physically, mentally, intellectually) that feeling is only amplified and reinforced.

In fifth grade I tried out for the Sound of Music, for the part of Lisel and I got it! Now, it would take an act of congress for me to try out for a part which is why is was such a big deal for me to try out for Sing Song hostess at ACU. I have always loved to sing. Always. If I could, I'd do it for a living. I sang with a group in high school and we were great... sang for large audiences and people loved us. I don't mind singing when there's other people singing with me but when it comes to a solo you can forget about it. So when some friends and I decided to try out for Sing Song host and hostess it was a big deal (and I have always dreamed of being a hostess as dumb as that is). The first time I sang my solo my friend Bekah heard the first note and said, "Wow! I didn't know you could sing like that!" And yet I still have confidence issues.

In middle school, I became obsessed with my appearance because I had a friend who was constantly looking in the mirror. I think every other question she asked was, "Do I look o.k.?" I thought I was fat. I thought I had the ugliest face known to man. I thought I wasn't good at anything... basketball, art, writing, singing (all the things I enjoyed most). Nothing. I'm not sure what happened between the summer of fifth grade and the beginning of sixth grade but it was something terrible. I lost all confidence and self-esteem. I'm sure something happened that I have chosen to block out... and I'm sure it had something to do with my friend Jenny's aunt.

In high school my mom used to tell me that I could have any guy I wanted. Whether or not that was ever the case I don't know. But I never saw it. Never. I have always seen myself as fat. I haven't ever thought I was beautiful or pretty or anything of the like. I have always seen myself as someone who looks awkward and says stupid things at all the wrong times. And I still don't know what Mom was talking about... and Mom wasn't the only one who said it. K said it one time about a year ago. I met with him and told him about the situation with J and he said that of all the guys to have picked it would be the one who didn't want me when there was a whole slew of them who did. And I asked him what he was talking about and he said, "L, I know these things. I was at the retreats and stayed with the guys. Every last one of them would have given their right arm to date you. One time the seniors asked all the guys in the room to name the one girl they would date if they could and everyone one of them named you." But none of them ever asked.

I see myself most recently as someone who for the first time in their life decided to stand up and say, "No More" and who will now forever be branded for it. Scarlet letter D on the shoulder. I see myself as someone who isn't extradordinarily beautiful or even remotely beautiful but doesn't need to be because my love is so deep that it makes up for it. It is pure. I see myself as someone who doesn't quit who doesn't give up. Who stands up for what's right, regardless of whether or not it's difficult. I see myself as someone who can be and who is influential.

I have always struggled with guilt. Struggled with self-image most of my life. I have not, however, struggled with my identity. I know who and whose I am. I have always known that. Always. But I have always been worried about what others thought of me, but not in the peer pressure kind of way.

As far as how others see myself, I feel like now they see me as a failure, as someone who couldn't keep their own husband. As someone who wasn't wanted. What man doesn't want to be intimate with their new wife? What kind of story is that? How grosteque do you have to be? I feel like people think I'm a liar. Men will pay a prostitute on the street... but he didn't want what he had right in front of him? And my own family thought I had to be lying. How's that for encouragment?

So that's only a little of how I see myself. I feel a little naked now. I think most times I feel naked on my blog though... blogs are for nakedness in some form or another.

This subject could be written on about all night... but I'll quit here.

Collective Soul

So Tuesday night I went to a Collective Soul concert at the Granada. IT WAS AWESOME!!!!! And that's putting it mildly. My friend Leslie called me Monday night and told me she hung out with two of the band members (Ryan, the drummer and Dean, rhythm guitarist) on Sunday night. She was entertaining two co-workers that were in town from Montreal on business and met them... how crazy is that. Long story short, they told her to come to the concert, bring some friends and meet them backstage afterwards. So she asked me to go (and I'm so glad she thought of me because I LOVE Collective Soul... they rock my face off!!!!)

We were SO VIP. After a few minor complications, we were able to get in and were about 15 feet from the stage. The Granada is a pretty intimate setting anyway, great venue for a concert. Tony (one of CS's roadies) walked us in the door and found us a great spot to the left of the stage. He even got us drinks... we didn't have to pay for a thing! We were instructed to wait out back after the concert for Dean. The concert itself was SO COOL... yeah, I just can't even tell you... it was SO much fun!

At the conclusion of the concert, we went out back as instructed and waited on the hood of Leslie's car and talked with Tony. Ryan came out and talked with us for a little while, told us Dean would be out shortly. We took a quick pic with Ryan (which I don't have, Leslie does... Tony couldn't operate my camera). Will, the bass guitarist came out and talked with us for awhile. He is a hoot. And hot... yeah. He's hot... let me just reiterate the fact that the man is hot. Anyway, we shot the bull with him for awhile and before he took off he says to us, "So, what's the word? Are we hanging out later or what?" So did all of you get that... the hottie bass guitarist from Collective Soul asked us if we were gonna hang out with them. YEAH. So, despite my urge to scream, "HECK YES!" to him, I played it cool. Before he left, he made sure to let us know he would "be back around." Dean came out shortly and upon seeing Leslie gave her a huge hug. All of the guys were really nice and had good firm hand shakes... always a good thing. Anyway, he introduced himself. We all talked for awhile... wow. It was crazy... we were hanging out in the parking lot with Collective Soul. Are you kidding me? Anyway, Dean invited us to hang out with them at the bar next door and then go to their huge after party at a place downtown. He was all about Leslie (gee, wonder what he was really after? hmmmm...) By the way, this is the same Leslie that's in the pictures from the Fogo de Chao post... super cute and such a hottie. Oh! How could I forget? When Dean said he would meet up with us at the Havana, he kissed me on the cheek goodbye, saying it was a pleasure to meet me.

We went next door with the crew for a little while but it was already so late and we both had to be at work today. However, at the bar, Leslie and I were sitting there talking to Tony (which by the end of the evening I think he wanted to marry me) and Will (the HOTTIE) comes in and makes a bee-line for us. I'm sitting on a barstool and he comes over to order a drink. He leans against the bar looks me in the eye and says, "I'm feeling especially evil tonight." Now I have to confess that the first thought that came to my mind was not one of pure and holy intent. What I wanted to do was say... well... I won't tell you, but I wanted to say it and then shoot him a look that would make a sailor think twice. But alas, I did not.

So, Leslie and I left shortly after. We did not go to the huge after party, even though it would have been cool to say we did. We can say that we did get personal invites from three of the band members though. I think that it was wise to have left when we did. I have plenty of self-control... but usually it's best to stay out of the fire all together. I got home and was in bed around 2 am. At work by 9 am.

Below are pics from the concert. Some turned out better than others... but some of them are kind of artsy. I think they're allright. Disappointed though. As good as my new camera is, I should have waited and got the Canon. Dang it. DANG IT. You can't beat a Canon...

Wages of Sin

Some days the guilt and shame are so much that I can hardly breathe. Some days it's so much that it's hard to lift my head or drag one foot to take one step in the right direction.

Yesterday and today are those days.

How do you tell someone about something you don't completely understand yourself? How do you explain to them something that still baffles you? That still makes your head spin? How do you tell them that you are as much of a sinner as the person who sinned against you?

I feel old, so old that some days it's crippling. A man told me not too long ago after speaking with me for awhile that I had "an old spirit"... whatever that means. And yet, at the same time I feel as if I've been reborn; I've had a renaissance, a rebirth. No more suffocation, the bag removed from my head and I can see clearly now. No longer looking through the haze of the thick plastic of the past. And it feels good. But I feel guilty for feeling good about it...

Today I just feel so heavy, as if walking with a 1,000 pounds of extra weight. Drudgery. Most days I'm able to put it off, but not today. And when I'm like this it's visible. People ask me what it is that's that matter because I think I look heavy, I look weighed down.

But I continue. Because that's what you do. And it's not bad... it's not bad. God is so good... he is so good to me. But my heart hurts... it just hurts with pain of my own sin against Him and the pain of having to tell others about it. It's emotionally exhausting.

The problem with pain... is that it hurts.


"Surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of man he is..."
~C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

"Nothing is yet in its true form."
~C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

"Love may forgive all infirmities and love still in spite of them: but Love cannot cease to will their removal."
~C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain


but since you've been gone
I can breathe for the first time
I'm so movin on
thanks to you
now I get
I get what I want
since you've been gone
~ Kelly Clarkson


At times life is wicked and I just can't see the light
A silver lining sometimes isn't enough
To make some wrongs seem right
Whatever life brings
I've been through everything
And now I'm on my knees again

But I know I must go on
Although I hurt I must be strong
Because inside I know that many feel this way...
~ Creed


Sometimes I need to remember just to breathe
Sometimes I need you to stay away from me
Sometimes I’m in disbelief I didn’t know
Somehow I need you to go
Don’t stay
Forget our memories
Forget our possibilities
What you were changing me into
Just give me myself back and
Don’t stay
Forget our memories
Forget our possibilities
Take all your faithlessness with you
Just give me myself back and
Don’t stay
Sometimes I feel like I trusted you too well
Sometimes I just feel like screaming at myself
Sometimes I’m in disbelief I didn’t know
Somehow I need to be alone
I don’t need you anymore, I don’t want to be ignored
I don’t need one more day of you wasting me away
I don’t need you anymore, I don’t want to be ignored
I don’t need one more day of you wasting me away
With no apologies
Don't stay
Don't stay
~ Linkin Park

And that's how I feel today.

Book Quiz - Courtesy of Mr. Honeybee

On Mr. Honeybee's most recent post, she took a book quiz to tell you what book you're most like. Well, I decided to take it and here's what it came up with. Pretty accurate I might say... you should take it too!

You're Confessions!

by St. Augustine

You're a sinner, you're a saint, you do not feel ashamed. Well, you
might feel a little ashamed of your past, but it did such a good job of teaching you
what not to do. Now you've become a devout Christian and have spent more time
ruminating on the world to come rather than worldly pleasures. Your realizations and
ability to change will bring reverence upon you despite your hedonistic transgressions.
Florida will honor you most in the end.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Fogo de Chao

So the evening with the ladies Friday turned out great. Spent WAY too much money, it was WAY expensive ($70 on me alone, the 11 us ran a $684 tab). I have never felt so pampered ever. The waiters pulled your chair out for you every time you got up and sat down... I felt like a princess! Thought I'd share some pics...




Partners in crime... but mostly accountability! Ashley is the best!





Leslie and I pose for the camera...

Tag, I'm It!

7 things I plan to do before I die:

1. backpack Europe
2. be HAPPILY married with children (keyword there being HAPPILY)
3. go whale watching and actually SEE a whale (been twice... still haven't seen one)
4. sell some of my photography
5. do some type of mission work some where outside the U.S.
6. go on an African safari
7. go to Australia


7 things I can do:

1. shoot a basketball with a gun in my hand (oh yes Demo, I'm THAT talented)
2. twirl my hair for hours on end (yeah Beef, maybe eventually when I'm not insane, I'll break the habit)
3. play the cello (or at least I could... haven't in awhile)
4. ride a bike without holding on to the handle bars
5. attract all types of psychos and dorks (apparently, it's my specialty)
6. play some CRAZY defense (basketball)... oh yes, I will know what kind of gum you're chewing :)
7. make some kickin' chili (as well as chocolate chip cookies)


7 things I can't do:

1. drive my Jeep when the gas tank is empty
2. sell my guitar on ebay (CAUSE the STINKIN'THING WON'T SELL!!!!!)
3. I've finally figured it out... I CAN'T RESCUE PEOPLE!!!!
4. change the past... unfortunately
5. balance my checkbook (to my mother's everlasting grief and shame... and my everlasting grief)
6. quit my job and move to Timbucktoo (even though it sounds appealing)
7. save myself


7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:

1. Eyes
2. Sense of humor... you gotta be funny, you can't make through life without being able to laugh at yourself
3. Relationship with God (MUCHO importante!!!)
4. Relationship with family (just not so close to your mother that you spoon her in bed... yes, thanks for that one J)
5. gotta be laid back, easy going... none of this up-tight crap
6. o.k., you gotta be taller than me (not hard too accomplish) and bigger than me (also not too hard to accomplish). I don't want to feel like I'm going to kill you if I sit on your lap. And if some guy talks trash about me, you need to be big enough to kick his tale... yeah... So, basically, you have to be hot. ;) (which encompasses all the things listed here.)
7. Must be romantic... and let me clarify. I don't mean that you have to spend a lot of money... this doesn't qualify as romanticism. What I'm talking about is planning ahead and being thoughtful. Going out of your way every once in a while... not too much to ask I think.


7 things I say most:

1. dadgumit
2. Oh mylanta!
3. anything ending in "izzle" (thanks Beef)
4. dang it all to hades
5. crap (need to quit saying this one)
6. good gravy
7. what is wrong with these people?


7 Celebrity Crushes

1. Pierce Brosnan (oh yes, right there with you Discom!!! that man will be hot when he's 100)
2. Matthew McConaughey (it's that Texas drawl and the eyes... good gravy I could... o.k. I'd better quit while I'm still ahead...)
3. Antonio Banderas
4. Orlando Bloom
5. Brad Pitt (he just seems real down to earth)
6. Christian Bail (just because he played Batman and I've had A HUGE crush on Batman since I was a kid... I'm crazy I know. Speaking of...)
7. Batman (yes, he does count)


7 people you want to do this:
1. Writer
2. Kacey
3. Kara
4. anyone who happens upon the blog and reads, but never comments,
fill it out and post!! It could be your first!

Random Acts of Kindness...

Saturday sucked. It was just plain rotten. I was tired. I had to work for my boss. My friend kinda laid into me about needing to quit my job... I cried. It was terrible. I went home, took a four hour nap. My bro called and I told him to come over and we'd go grab a bite to eat. He knocks on the door and upon me opening it. He holds out a single pink rose (mind you, he didn't know I had a crappy day) and says, "For you!" I was still very tired from the nap and I'm positive that I did not give him the appropriate appreciation he deserved. But I could have cried it meant so much to me... simply because he thought of me.

I have never been fond of pink roses, but I will forever think of my brother when I see one now and they will hold a special place in my heart just because of my bizzle.

So, props to you Beef. You made me feel like a million and a half bucks! You're the best and some day some chic (if she meets my approval of course) is going to break the bank when she gets you.

You ROCK. Straight up yo.

I'm so tired of the friggin' north Dallas attitude. Tired of it. I don't care how much money you make, you that doesn't give you the right to treat people like crap. And I don't care if you wear Gucci or Prada or whatever other name brand or shop at Neiman's or Lord and Taylor or wherever else... get over yourself. I hate materialism. And I work with all these ladies who are obsessed with it and I find myself some days being so overwhelmed by it that I feel the need to give in because I don't feel pretty enough... I already didn't feel like enough because of J and now there's this. E is a body builder and N is a millionaire... good grief. Like my self-esteem needed this? I hate Satan.

My bro and I are standing in the kitchen the other day, I'm making enchiladas and he says to me, "There should be no reason you struggle with self-esteem."

???????

And I feel like crap. Why does this have to be such a struggle? The desire to be wanted or to be desired? I don't want to be because of what I wear or drive... God forbid it... but because of who I am and what type of spirit I exude.

?????????

O.k. you guys are going to be tired of my emotional vomit. I'm sorry. But this week has been crazy and I got an email from The Idiot due to a situation and it pissed me off. The fact that he took the time to type out my name enrages me. Anyway...

And I wouldn't be thinking so much about any of this except that tonight I'm going out to eat with a bunch of fabulous ladies from church. We're getting decked to the 9's and going to eat at this really nice place. We've had it planned for two months (maybe longer) so I've saved up. And E comes in the office earlier and makes a comment about my body and it just blew my whole day... I know it's dumb. It's really dumb but I could have melted into the floor because of what my boss said afterward. Good grief people. So I'm trying to think positive but it's hard. It's just really frustrating... I bought this dress to wear and now I'm debating on even wearing it because of what she said... I could cry. It's so stupid. Thanks E. We know you're perfect, do you have to make the rest of us feel like we're not because we know it. My ex made sure to let me know. Thanks. Thank you very much.

This is one of my best friends Bekah and her boyfriend Abe. She blesses my life... I took this pic of them while in Galveston in May. This is probably one of my favorite portraits I've taken thus far. I love the symmetry. Over all I think it's composed well. Anyway, I was really missing her today. 

Running the Gauntlet

Last night my bro the Great Beefalo, Sydney and I walked around Valley Ranch. It was after midnight and things were pleasantly peaceful. On our way back toward the house we came to a piece of sidewalk that was spotted with sprinkler heads. They were on, spraying away, dousing the sidewalk. Pivoting at various intervals spewing their life giving water on the grass... and the paved way home.

"You wanna run the gauntlet?" I asked.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah."

The three of us stood there, all thinking about the timing... it had to be just right. (Yes, Sydney was calculating as well. Ears flat, nose twitching, she was preparing.)

Beef started to jog and then stopped abruptly. Me being behind him (and too short to see what was going on) slammed into his back.

"GO!" I said frantically.
"I was but..."

And Sydney and Beef took off leaving me in the spray. So we all just ran, at first trying to make the effort to not get sprayed, however, this idea was soon abandoned and we simply ran to keep from getting further soaked.

My cackling laughter could probably be heard for a block or two. We came to the end of the gauntlet, wet and laughing.

We walked on, getting closer to our final destination and lo and behold, there was another, yes, another gauntlet of sprinklers.

"You wanna try again?"
There was some sort of gutteral response to this.
"Or we could just run through them."
"You serious?"
"Yes!"

So we ran through the sprinklers, laughing, feeling like we were kids again even though we had just been discussing the weights on our hearts and were up, walking Valley Ranch well after midnight on a worknight like the irresponsible adults we were.

Have no Fear, your Double-D Leader is Here!

Are only boob-less women supposed to be leading the church? Holy cow. Is there a book chapter and verse on that one?

So I get this email from a friend of mine. She's much older. Has kids my age. She tells me in this email that I may need to "disguise my boobs" being that I'm in a position of leadership now. Excuse me? Disguise my boobs? If I was walking around with cleavage hangin' out all the time I can see where this might be coming from... but when I don't I don't see where this is coming from. Are you serious!?!?!?! So if I'm just sitting in the pew doing nothing, I can have all the boobs I want, but when you start getting active (no pun intended) then you have to schedule breast reduction surgery? This chaps my hide and burns my biscuits. Even better, steams my clams. What am I supposed to do? Cut them off? I've talked to three different people, people I KNOW would tell me if I needed to make a change. People who would tell me to go change clothes. My brother wouldn't be seen in public with me and he WOULD tell me to change if I was wearing anything inappropriate. What in the world!?!?!

Maybe if that idiot would get his head out of the gutter he wouldn't have made such disgusting comment. Unprovoked. We were just standing there and he said it... what in the world? Are you kidding me?!?!?! He's 33! Grow up pervert! "Well, if you had been wearing a different blouse, maybe he wouldn't have said such a thing." I WAS WEARING A T-SHIRT. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with me! Maybe it was his vile mind. Have you heard the rest of what he says and does all the time? And he's supposed to be my partner in ministry! Why? Why? Why?

Good grief.

I picked up the mail today for work and there was a postcard that said: "Are you certifiable?"

And the first thing I thought was: "Are you certifiably insane?"

Here's the chance for a dig Beef. Go ahead. Make your day.

Keyboard of Life

Sometimes when I'm typing at work, I get tired or I'm not paying attention. I'm on the phone, I'm looking away at a sheet of paper... and my fingers loose their reference but I'm still typing. When I look back up at the screen nothing makes sense. What I have typed does not read as it should. It doesn't say anything. It's nonsense.

I think sometimes in life we get so caught up or so distracted; we get so comfortable that we don't realize how far away it is from where we need to be. The things we fill ours heads with are great indicators as to how far away we are from where our focus ought to be. We wonder why we're having such problems, why things are going right. Just like our fingers on the keyboard.

Today I'm going to move my fingers over, make sure the index fingers are on the given guides and go from there. Keep my eyes on the screen to be sure I'm headed in the right direction. Today I'm going to be aware.

How comfortable are you with where you are today?

To be or not to be...

I like that I use an alias on my blog... that none of you (with the exception of a few other blogging heroes like Beef & Writer) know who I am! I am Rambouillet! Ram!Bwaa ha haaaaaaaaa!!! Oy. That sounded kind of evil. And I'm going for the good of humanity here...

Continuing on, it is most enjoyable to have an alias. I chose my for specific reasons as I'm sure most of you have yours. I like this veil of secrecy, the shroud of the unknown. After all, y'all know way too much about the rest of me to know my real name.

I'd like to think that my blog is like that of a super-hero. Yes. Yes... that's it. And this is the place where when I'm not working, when I'm not leading the singles group at church, when I'm not being the older sister, when I'm not being a daughter, when I'm not being the oldest grandchild (on both sides of the family)... when I'm not being what it is that I feel I have to be for everyone else at a specific moment in time I come here and be me. Say what I want to, be what I want to... I can be Rambouillet.

So really, it's kind of like the inverse of a super-hero. Super-hero's typically use their alias when fighting crime. I use mine when fighting my own demons.

My space. My words. My thoughts. Some days I love them. Some days I hate them. But mostly I just enjoy the freedom to express myself and not worry about the public finding out it's me: _________.

Do you worry about people finding out it's you?

Props to Lord Byron & Writer

If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad. ~Lord Byron

I have enjoyed writing for the whole of my life. As early as fifth grade, I won an award for my writing. This is not to say that I could now, but I have previously. Writer's post (you should all check out his fantastic blog @ meanderingmusingsmustermadness.blogspot.com) has inspired this post especially since Ray Bradbury is one of my absolute favorite writer's of all time. His description of things makes my mind run wild with all sorts of fantastical nonsense. I love it...

Now, my blog is for my purposes and my purposes only. As are my three or four journals I keep at the house. No one reads those of course... they are simply for my own sanity. :) However, it is important that you all know that much like what Lord Byron said, I write to empty my mind. I write to sort thoughts and collect the ideas and data swirling about in my head. I wrote a short poem about that once. Don't know if I posted it or not. But it was the very same idea... emptying the mind... ink forming letters, creating words, stringing thoughts onto pages.

I do appreciate those of you who stick around for my nonsense. Especially in all of it's unedited insanity.

Sometimes I find myself aching to write down a thought so bad that I've found myself keeping a pad of paper in my car and in my purse so that at any given time I can write down whatever it is that ails me. What joyous release to be able to express oneself with words! What a tragedy to be without words... to be without words is to be without thought and what a true tragedy that is.

A few months ago I didn't know what a blog was and now I find that it is a place of solace and comfort, a place to vent. A place to lay one's head. A place to sit. A place to bounce ideas from one continent, one city to another. One mind to another. It is another place for me to be me.

I used to be so embarrassed at my writing, especially my poetry. In fact, I never told anyone I wrote any. But you know it really doesn't matter what anyone thinks. It's really a matter of what I'm thinking and whether or not I want to write it down or not. You don't have to like it. I don't necessarily want you to. This is a big deal because I've spent the better part of my life trying so hard to be what every one else wanted me to... trying so hard to please everyone else, thinking about what they wanted and liked and never thinking about what I really wanted and liked.

So, the long and short of it is this: I write to clear my head. I write because I enjoy it. I write because I feel better when I do. Like singing.

Give us this day...

I was thinking this morning, the reason we have so many letters to various churches in the Bible is due to the fact that every church, no matter the denomination has flaws. While this conclusion may seem elementary, it may not be such. Take a look at your own church or the churches you have visited and the attitudes they have so rigorously embodied and transferred to others knowing them to be the "truth." People do a lot of stupid and terrible things when they think they're in the right.

We're all just trying to figure things out. We're all mixed up and all in the wrong. And that does not mean (as Romans discusses) that we should abuse grace. What is does mean is that we should not judge. That we should be slow to anger abounding in love, as the Pslams state God is. We should love our brothers, because it covers a multitude of sins (I Peter 4). We should give each other a little grace, hmmmm... like the forgiveness and grace Christ gave us? Funny the Bible talks about that and yet we are so quick to forget about it. Are we not called to be imitators of God? (Ephesians 5)

Satan parades as an Angel of Light and oh does he does his work well, church warring against church when we should all be unified. We all know Christ. We worship the same God. And yet we war and argue with one another... when will we see the damage we are doing to our ownselves? No wonder the world wants nothing to do with us.

God forgive us when we fail to see our own iniquities and are so quick to point out and cast out other's. Help us to see with Your eyes, spiritual eyes, the eyes of Your spirit so the we are able to do Your will in the works of Your churches throughout the world. Renew our minds, restore our hearts.

God forgive us.

Not Just Any Tuesday

Ah... where do I start? I don't know why it has taken me so long to blog about this. I guess I didn't want to ruin a good thing. But I read Claraslvr's blog about her wonderful evening and was inspired to write about mine... so here I go. And besides, my posts have been dark of late.

He picked me up around 6 o'clock on a Tuesday evening. It was sunny outside. I had only been given a hint at what we were doing... something about "swinging things." Having been given a dress code as well (how cute is that?!?!) casual and kind of athletic, I of course had spent my day off stressing about what to wear. Typical girl thing to do. Do I normally stress about what to wear? No. I went with olive capris, a white tank with a black flower embellishment (just the right touch of feminity) and black flip flops. I debated on the black flip flops since he said athletic, but at the behest of my roommate went with them.

A knock at the door. So, I get my bag, put up the dog, and we're off. Off to where? I don't know yet but the conversation is great. And I must add that he did open the car door for me. A gentleman. *sigh*

In the midst of our wonderful conversation he asks me if I've ever played golf. Nope. Not ever, never so much as picked up a club (and somehow I suspect he knows this already... I'll have to ask him one day, but I think, it's only a theory, but I think he overheard a conversation two days before involving my boss and a few other people about how to swing a golf club and I was going on about how I've never played before and never so much as swung a club. So, they all stood around and tried to tell me how to hold a club and whatnot... all the time he was only a few feet away.)
So he tells me we're going to a driving range.

We stayed at the driving range for a good two hours. I, of course, had the obligatory strikes but actually all in all didn't do so bad. Not for the first time anyway. He let me borrow his glove so I wouldn't get blisters (what a sweetheart) although I didn't realize he was playing without one until we were almost finished. When I offered to give it back he kindly refused.

I ended up playing barefoot due to the fact the flip flops weren't working so well. Why had I listened to my roommate? I should have gone with my original instinct... some cute tennis shoes... oh well.

We talked about the books we enjoy reading and the our families and all kinds of stuff. Leadership in the church... frustrations... It was most enjoyable... most.

M was kind enough to go to the opposite end of the area where you drive, so that I could make a fool of myself and only he and I could laugh, not the whole of the range. Ever the gentleman! Well, we had visitors. One in particular liked to pitch alot of dirt as he sliced the ball. I was getting showered in dirt. This is the only time on the date I became paranoid. I know, it's ridiculous. It reminded me of an old Ally McBeal episode (I hated that show, only watched one) where the guy had a little bit of salad dressing on his face and it bugged her bad she pictured him the remainder of the evening, face dripping with dressing. Well, I just knew my face was going to be caked with mud between the sweat and the dirt being thrown in our direction by the guy upwind!

When we had exhausted our bucket of golf balls we packed up his clubs and headed toward the car where he once again, opened the door (I could get used to this...)

Off to Mi Cocina (two firsts in one night), a really nice mexican food restaurant. We sat down and I think it took about 45 minutes to order because we spent so much time talking. Anyway, we shut the place down. I was so impressed because M made it a point to know the waiter's name. He was so polite and made sure to say thank you, even for the small things. Like my Dad does. It was a breath of fresh air.

He talked about his witness and it was amazing... I felt like I'd finally met someone who felt like I had for so much of my life. It was awesome.

Before the evening was over, we agreed that we had to "do this again." Since then we have talked at least every other day, if not more.

He is most enjoyable.

Pigskin

The rustling of dried leaves over the pavement. Smells of chimney smoke; the quiet in the air, sounds dampened by the cool. The smell of newly sharpened lead pencils and school bells...

It's time for some pigskin.

Texas High school football is great because it's mostly just a bunch of boys playin' ball cause they want to. Sometimes because their dads want them to. Sometimes to impress a girl. But mostly, cause it's about the spirit of Friday night. It's about the floodlights in the stadium. The fight song played over a roaring crowd. The adrenaline. And for what? Some 17 year old kids. We'll go scream our heads off to pump up the ego of a 17 year old. He'll feel like a pro. That's awesome.

I love to see the glow of stadium lights on Friday. LOVE IT. It stirs something in me, makes this thing in me rise up and it takes hold of my heart.

This one's for Discom

So, Discom, you wanted me to give you some Cliff Notes. To update you on my life. Well, your recent post regarding "BJs" has inspired me. No, I was not a prostitute in a former life. Even better a wife. Yes folks. I was someone's wife. But apparently I wasn't... well, enough. So here I am. Branded for life. In the good 'ol C of C, that means I can't be saved. Not even Christ's blood is good enough for the sin of Divorce. So here I am, Red Letter and all. Capital D.

You know people tend to think that women are the one's who hold sex over men's heads and keep it from them, that we are the only culprits. WRONG. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Now, it happens more that way than the other but that does not mean that women are the only ones who use it as a weapon. Sex is not a tool. It is not a weapon. NOT a weapon.

I know that at some point in my life I knew deep down in my soul, in my heart of hearts that God made sex this beautiful, wonderful thing. But now, I have a hard time believing it. I know it. I'll tell people that all day. But I have a hard time believing it. Knowing and believing are different.

By the time it was all over, we were married 2 1/2 years and I can count on two hands the number of times we did it. And when we did it was terrible... it was like some sort of out of body experience. He may as well have been sitting across the room watching - watching and hating it. It was awful. The man had issues. Issues with a lot of stuff... like his mom. Good grief, that's a tale in itself.

And you know what really sucks... I WAITED. I WAITED DANG IT!!!! Is this what I get for waiting!?!?!?! There are millions of people out there who have sex all the freakin' time... ug. It just pisses me off.

He would tell me that sex was "gross," that it was "too messy." There were about 20 different excuses. He was too tired. He had a headache. He didn't want to hurt me. Would I really be that interested if it hurt?!?!?! And he NEVER did anything to please me. And that is no exaggeration.

And so you pray: God, help me be patient. Help me be a better wife. Help me not be so angry. Help me have a better attitude.

And then you pray for death because you've been wounded so deeply by the least suspected person and no one believes you. And then when he stops talking to you and he won't go to counseling and he fakes it to the world and the fakeness is about the make you crazy... you know what has to be done. So you start to think of ways to make it look like an accident so your parents won't be worried about what you were thinking when you went. After all, divorce is unforgivable but there are some who think suicide is sort of up in the air.

He told me once that the reason he looked at porn was because he admired the artistic qualities of it. That has to be the biggest bunch of bullsh** I've ever heard. I asked him one time if he'd ever cheated on me and his response was, "What's your definition of cheating?"

You know, I don't wish any ill will on him. I've forgiven him. I have some hurts to deal with, but I have forgiven him. Now I have to forgive myself. That's the hard part.

And the last thing he said to me before he walked out the door for the last time was, "Well, I would say I'd see you around, but I guess not."

And I'm much better off. Spiritually, physically, everything. Better off. This Ram ain't far from the flock and I ain't going to hell. I know where the Shepherd is and I'm in safe keeping.

For right now, that's all I have to say about that.

Early Morning Sydney

At a loss...

I feel at such a loss right now, that everything is coming together and falling apart all at the same time. Like worlds are ripping apart. No more UNT... no more speech path. Maybe teaching art? Maybe inner city work? God help me! Cause all I want to do is Your will but I gotta have some help.

Patience and time. Patience and time.

For those of you who pray... I would appreciate it. I need wisdom and guidance to decipher the spirits at battle around me daily. We are at war.

If You Want Me To

This is a song by Ginny Owens and it has encouraged me greatly the past few years. The first time I listened to the album this song came off of I bawled the through the whole thing. It was like she knew exactly where I was coming from! The title of this particular song is captured in heading of this post. Most of the time I can't listen to it without crying. I've decided though that crying is o.k.


The pathway is broken
And the signs are unclear
And I don’t know the reason why you brought me here
But just because you love me the way that you do
I’m gonna walk through the valley
If you want me to

Chorus:
Cause I’m not who I was
When I took my first step
And I’m clinging to the promise you’re not through with me yet
So if all of these trials bring me closer to you
Then I will go through the fire
If you want me to

It may not be the way I would have chosen
When you lead me through a world that’s not my home
But you never said it would be easy
You only said I’d never go alone

So when the whole world turns against me
And I’m all by myself
And I can’t hear you answer my cries for help
I’ll remember the suffering your love put you through
And I will go through the valley
If you want me to

Office Depot

I run to Office Depot for work alot, mostly to their Copy Center. There are three main people who run the copy center: Eric, Jamie and Kim. When I go to Office Depot I spend more time there listening to their life stories than shopping for my boss which please me fine. I'm sure people think it strange, which pleases me as well.

Eric's wife died in February. He met her over the internet. She lived in China and he went there to marry her. I'm not sure how long they were married but she had a brain tumor and died.

No one at the office would know this because no one else takes the time to ask the simple question: How are you today Eric? I simply asked one day and got an ear full of the above. So we sent flowers to his house after the funeral. He has since then met another woman, who has a son (his last wife was barren, so this is a blessing!) and has been to China this summer to marry her. He has been gone several weeks on vacation to met and marry her. He was back this week... I was so excited to hear how things went and see pictures. She is beautiful and Eric was beaming!

Jamie is married to a wonderful man. She doesn't have to talk about how great he is. You can tell by the way it resonates in her voice. Her husband went to the Sunset school of preaching in Lubbock, Texas... how crazy! She was shocked that I knew of it. She is a doll and I enjoy visiting with her.

Kim is new to the crew. Today I listened to her talk about her pregnancy. I had no clue she was pregnant but apparently she wanted someone to know and needed someone to talk to about it. I stood there for 20 minutes after getting my copies made and listened to her. Hardly said a thing... just listened. She's 22 and has a boyfriend in Shreveport. She's planning on moving there sometime in the next few weeks. She's due in November. It sounds as though she has plenty of family and friends in Shreveport who love and support her (which is such a relief!!!)

I hope that my listening serves them in some way... I hope I minister to them in my own quiet way when standing at their service counter. Ha. That's funny. Their service counter!

can anyone tell me how to add my photo to my profile, you know, so that when I post I have a pic? I would appreciate the help!

Spiritually Scrumptious

I had lunch today with a lady I've known since middle school. Oddly enough, our paths have crossed here in the metroplex in the singles group at PC. How funny! Her and her husband are interested in working with the singles and her daughter (who is my age, we were in the youth group together years ago) is in the group I'm leading here as well.

She wanted to hear about my story and I just wanted to bask in her presence for awhile. We started out (before we even sat down to the table) and the tears began to well up... so we prayed we wouldn't cry. And lo and behold... we didn't. For two hours we talked about our deepest hurts... and didn't shed a tear. It was wonderful... discussing spiritual warfare and looking back on our lives and seeing how we have been so deceived by the Great Deceiver; how we have overcome in spite of it with the help of the Almighty and not only that but come out better for it, pain and all.

We had shrimp and fruit (an odd combination I thought at first) but it was terribly wonderful to the palate! I wish, now back at my desk, that I had some more!

Blessings... we finished our lunch with a prayer of thankfulness... and then we cried... tears of joy.

He is good. God is SO good.

And I just wanted to share his goodness with you.

The Distance

A fellow blogger has spurred me to write this... and while I have tried to keep it light lately cause my thoughts are usually weighted so (I have to have some relief somewhere...) I am inspired. Take heed: there may be a few rabbit trails along the way. So I hope you like rabbits.

I have felt, my entire life that I have been set apart. That I am called to something; chosen, even. I have understood from such a young age. Not just knowing the answers to questions, because I haven't always known, still don't. But seeing the bigger picture, the forest for the trees. I would go on youth trips and get letters weeks later from youth ministers saying how impressed they were... that they know people who were twice my age with less wisdom than me. I didn't ever think much of it really.

I used to wake up in middle school and cry every morning because I was still alive. I didn't want to be here... amidst the masses who didn't get it, who didn't appreciate or understand God. Not that I completely understood either, but at least I longed to. I would pray, o Lord, I would pray to be taken home. Finding true friends has always been a challenge and such work because it has always been such a frustration to me that people do not "get it." And disappointment gets old quickly... the heart can only take so much...

When I was baptised, I felt so clean. I remember that feeling. I remember the conviction, the urgency and the desire to tell the whole of the world about the good news I had received.

I am a wretch, LORD knows I'm a wretch. Why he ever wasted His time saving me is a conundrum but I'm glad he took me into His peace, His salvation. I cherish my redemption. Continually cleansed by the blood... what a thought, that something so crimson makes something so pristine?

Praise God.

With understanding, comes responsibility (as my brother and I often hold each other accountable to when we seem to be near the end of our ropes). So I will take on this Singles group and do my very best. After all, its all I can do. Even though by all rights I wasn't "supposed" to be in a singles group. God does have a great sense of humor doesn't He? He does work for the good... He does take our sin that separates and draws us nearer to him.

Holy, holy, holy is the LORD God Almighty, who was and is and is to come.

and His church said...

Continue Continuing On

This is for ST. She continually reminds me of what heart is. So this post is for her.

ST, since you'll probably never read this, I'll have to make it known to you in other ways. But I wanted the world to know. You've had it rough the past few years. In fact, you've had some really rough spots throughout your life. But you continue to continue. You come to work, despite your age. You come with a good attitude and joy in your heart, maybe not happiness but joy. You are special.

I enjoy our talks. I enjoy laughing with you. I enjoy our friendship and the fact that we are sisters through Christ Jesus. Eternity will be fun!

H is missing out. He is missing out on you. I am so proud that you are able to keep a smile on your face and joy in your heart because you know where your true value comes from. THANK YOU for being an example to me. Thank you for your encouragement in times when I have been in dark places and looking for the light. Thank you for listening and crying with me. Thank you for being a Godly example.

ST, you are precious... so precious! I love you! And my heart is full and overflowing at the very thought of you. I'm so thankful for your presence in my life.

We'll just keep on continuing to continue together... deal?

Take Me On a Gondola

My bro and I went to Williams Square yesterday in Las Colinas, walked around for awhile. Vented. Walked. Vented some more. In the midst of our wonderful conversation (because they always are) I noticed in the canal a boat with a man standing in back rowing it and not only that but two people inside as well. It was a real live, genuine gondola! Wow. I've only ever seen those in the movies (like in Indiana Jones). I've been thinking about how cool it was all day today. I know. I know. I'm crazy. But it was SOOOOOOOOOOOO romantic, being that we're in the city and all. The sun was setting, there was a slight breeze. Ahh... It was so cool. So, as a tribute to the gondola, here's a little ditty I wrote (to be sung to the tune of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame"):

Take me on a gondola
let's float down the canal,
I don't care how much we have to pay
the money won't matter a week from today!

Just look deep into my green eyes,
are they not convincing enough?
Can't you see, that, it's meant to be
you and me, in a gondola!

O.k., so the last line is a little tricky... but it works. It works.

The Titan

Last Saturday my brother and a friend and I went to Six Flags. As a grand finale, L and I decided to ride the Titan, finish the day off right. Now, I must admit. I was scared. I was really scared. The first drop was going to be more than I was going to be able to handle... or so I thought. But nevertheless, we filed into suite with everyone else and waited. We happened to get caught in line next to two young boys, Jeremy and Sam. Jeremy was a course young boy, cursing when he thought it counted and making it known, whenever and however possible that he was a tough kid. He was by no means a wimp. Sam on the other hand, had a gentle spirit and a kind presence. Sam was smart, even wise. He had kind eyes and a genuine concern for others that could be seen from a mile away. In standing in line for the 30 or so minutes we did, the four of us got to talking. Us, twenty-somthings talking to these 11 year olds about life. Interesting. And then the time came. Sam and I were nervous. In fact, if I hadn't been working so hard at keeping Sam's mind off the impending doom, I would have been in fits.

It was our turn.

Sam looked distressed.

"Think about something else. What's your favorite thing to do?" I asked.
"anything but this!"
I smiled.
"Well, who is your favorite person to be with?"
He thought a moment.
"My parents."
"Well, think about them. What's your favorite memory with them?"
He thought again... his mind going somewhere I was unable follow.
"When I was three, in the hospital."
"What were you in the hospital for?"
"I had a brain tumor."
"Really? Did they take it out?"
"Yes. I had my last check up last year. My uncle died of the same kind of brain tumor. But mine's all gone." Sam said all of this with such a peace. His eyes tranquil.
"Well, that's good its all gone."

The train of cars for the Titan lurched and groaned to a halt right in front of us. The gates opened and we were welcomed to take our seats. L and I sat together. Jeremy and Sam in the car in front of us. Jeremy in front of L, Sam directly in front of me. The yellow bars came down over our laps and L noticed, I could not see his face, nor the top of his head, that Sam had begun to cry. We asked the attendant to make sure he was o.k. The attendant leaned over, mumbled something, Sam reached up, gave him a high five, the attendant smiled and we were off.

Scaling the height of the first drop was nothing short of unnerving. The Titan dwarfs the Texas Giant. Dwarfs it. As mentioned before, I couldn't see Sam, but Jeremy was looking around anxiously and he was attempting to communicate something to Sam. I decided to cheer the young lads on. And maybe myself as well...

"It's o.k. guys... you can do it! WE can make it!"

When we reached the top, I thought I might go out of my mind when...

And it was all a blur... BUT IT WAS FREAKIN' AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!! That thing pulls G's!!! IT ROCKED!!!! I went from sheer, grief stricken terror to 85 mile an hour bliss!

When the rocket screeched to a halt at the end of the line I was whoopin' and hollerin' like an idiot. It was such an adrenaline rush!

"Sam, Jeremy, you guys good?"

Two hands flew back from the seat in front of me (and I was elated!)... not a sound, no words, just two hands... the universal sign... it was time to give this young man some well deserved skin. Panic again hit.

"Sam! I can't reach you!"

From the left side of his seat, a hand flew around and I flung myself forward, straining... please... I HAD TO REACH!....

POP! Five big ones for the big man Sam!

The metal snake crept up to the pavilion, released its tight grip on us and off we went. The four of us chatted all the way down the stairs. When we'd made our way out of the maze it was time to part ways. It was nearly time for the park to close and I'm sure the boys had some sort of parental figure to be meeting somewhere.

"Well, we'll see y'all later!"
Everyone just kind of looked at me. Yeah, guess that was kind of a dumb thing to say. But I wished I would see them later. It's what I would have said to my kids at the Y...

All in all, it was a good day. Rode a roller coaster for the first time with my brother, had fun with a new friend and met some cool kids.

I hope Sam and Jeremy have good parents to go home to. I know I did. If only we were all so lucky.

Like garbage, forgotten to be taken out.

Remembered -
half hazardly tossed to the dumpster
A recepticle for waste -
the excess
the unwanted
the left overs

You used what you liked, as you pleased.

Disregard me.
Dispose of me.

Are you finished?
After all this time - who knew it would be you?
Wouldn't the work have been worth it?
I guess not, if trash is all you get for your work.

So I sit, up to here in trash.

this is war

Sword heavy, unable to lift
shoulders sore, back aching
Helmet sweaty, calloused hands
Grief makes the heart faint

the clash of metal
their unfair tactics
the deception...
the smell of their sulfer...

I am weary
armor heavy, burdened by guilt
so weighted by my own sinfulness

Continuing on, must keep on
struggling to see the light,
groping for any sign of hope

Open my eyes! God show me!
Please show me and send aid!
Will it never end?

Cut off at the knees, bleeding nubs,
seemingly the last blow?

bleed out
bleed out

pooling red saltiness so I'm left to drown
and I know you are there... so why aren't you here?

And then you come to me... you are there
Legions surrounding, protecting

For a moment, oh, blessed moment!... transcending peace.

Only for a moment and then battle rages on.

For peace's time of permanence has not yet come... not yet come.
Peace's time has not yet come...

During devotional tonight, Bob talked about memories and how strongly we are tied to them. It made me think of my greatest and most cherished memories... these are some of them:

* Riding in the suberban with my family in the desert of New Mexico listening to Rush, Boston and Kansas for hours on end thinking that a trip to Carlsbad Caverns was like a trip to Disney World

* Trips to Grandmom Browning's house, listening to Ray Bradbury books on tape, looking for the red roof (when it was still red)

* Bisquets and gravy at Grandmom's house

* Coffee with my grandparents

* Digging up change for buy one get one free large limeades at Sonic, after school was out each day, with Tocarro

* Uncle Tim reading us the Grover book at Memaw & Pepaw's house, in the GROVER VOICE!!! It rocked!!!

* Flying kites at Central with my bros and Jenny

* Roller skating with Jenny... while our dogs pulled us!

* Daddy's Night Out

* Going to Wonderland with my grandparents and cousins

* Catching fireflys in jars in Tuscola

* Laying in Virda's hospital bed with her sharing secrets!

* Talking with Memaw C... anytime, any place... it's just special

Grilled Cheese Goodness

How is it that some people just can't take hints? And how is it that some evenings can be so wonderful and some SO terrible... (I really can't get over the other day... ug! how terrible! how do I get myself into these situations!!?!?) Like last night was great. Walked the dogs with my brother, made some grilled cheese and chocolate chip cookies and watched some tv. Talked to a friend about the singles ministry we're about to take leadership of and the challeges ahead. Went to bed tired and satisfied, excited with where my life is headed and whats to come. God is good.

That's all. Just thoroughly satisfied. And tired. But a good tired.

I'm so stoked. STOKED.

Praise God. "All things work for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose."

Even divorce.

Tower of Power

I wasn't going to blog about it, but I had nightmares about it and I can't get over my own stupidity... or maybe it's his own stupidity, so I'm blogging. I went on a date Saturday. The only reason it was a date is because he paid. That constitutes a date right? Paying? What the heck is a date anyway? Just the asking and the paying? Anyway, he had concert tickets and tickets to Six Flags. He picked me up, we got there and rode a ride, one I wasn't particularly thrilled about riding but did anyway. While waiting to ride the Superman Tower of Power he procedes to ask me questions. Not just any questions, but ones like, "what's your worst break-up" and whatnot. Are you serious? He knows what my worst break up is. So thus begins a whole series of questions that I am obviously not very willing to answer due to the fact that he is digging for information I am not willing to give because it's none of his business. We've only talked three time!!!! What was he doing?!?!?! When I'm ready to tell you about It, I will. Don't try to fish for information that isn't yours to catch. Gosh. So I'm feeling really accosted and attacked, really, and here we are, it's time to get on the ride. Let me tell you about the ride.

This ride takes you straight up into the air, feet dangling, plumets you to the ground and back up again - stops - and back up again, and again, all at random. You are at it's mercy. Completely at it's mercy because you don't know when it will move or what direction it will take you. I can handle roller coasters. But I HATE heights. HATE THEM. Let me repeat for emphasis. HATE THEM. HATE HATE HATE. The second we left the ground I regretted ever setting my butt on the seat of the Superman. The only time in my life I have ever been in hysterics has been my senior year of high school when I had a panic attack... I went running to relieve stress and needless to say it didn't help. I made it worse, I couldn't breathe, I got scared, scared turned to panic and so on. I had to go to the hospital. It took everything in me on Saturday to not go into hysterics. I think I was already in a emotionally heitened state and then we got onto that stupid ride and it scared me to death... I didn't trust him, I didn't trust that machine yanking me throught the air and I nearly lost it, literally. I had to mentally go somewhere else. I think that that's almost sad because I got to thinking about it and I realized that in the past three years I have done that alot. I have had to escape mentally because I couldn't handle it. I couldn't deal.

Superman flinging me around and him laughing the whole time and the knot in my stomache getting tighter and tighter and being at the mercy of him and the mercy of the ride and the whole situation... it may not sound to some people like such a big deal, but let me tell you it was aweful. But of course, me being who I am, I played if off, like it was all o.k. because that's what I do best. I practiced that well over three years. Got real good at it.

We went to eat afterwards, just to make things worse, he drove me home, I opened the car door, told him thanks and that it wasn't necessary to walk me to the door. He said it was o.k. he didn't mind.

"It's really ok." I said.
"No, I'll walk you to your door." he says.

Really? Fine. Since you can't take a hint. We walked to the door, I already have my door key out and in hand, we approach the door, I have my key outstretched and am putting it into the keyhole... am facing the door... am turning the doorknob... and I feel this arm around me... ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!?!?!? I turn half way around, and he is attempting to give me a hug. Give me a break. Have I given you permission to touch me? No. Have I even given you the slightest signals that that was even desired? NO. So shove off!!!!!

And he called last night. I did not answer the phone.

Father's

I was thinking about my Dad this morning. I called and left him a message... was trying to be encouraging... not quite sure if I succeeded or not, but as they say: it's the thought that matters. Dad is currently dealing with a situation that is most troubling. And I think he feels betrayed. I think he's probably hurt. Anyway, my grandmother said that he told her that he thought this person was a friend... and she told him (the truth)that the relationship is one sided - all Dad's. Gee... this sounds familiar.

John Mayer has a song that says: "Fathers be good to your daughters, for daughters will love like you do. Girls become lovers who turn into mothers so mothers be good to your daughters too."

I have always been my Dad's daughter... no questions there. I guess I have been realizing lately how much. And like my mother as well. On Wednesday I was talking to a good friend of mine and he made the comment that I'm "always worked up." Well, people think that of my Mom too. We're just passionate people... not angry or upset, just passionate. Martin Luther was passionate! You can't change the world without being passionate. Christ was passionate! See, it's biblical. Passion is good. Most the time; the rest of the time it makes you crazy. Anyway, that was a tangent! See, another way I'm like my mother: tangents.

Back to the topic at hand, John Mayers lyrics ring true. My Dad loves people without reservation, with out expecting anything back. He just loves. Whether they wrong him or not, he loves. Whether they reciprocate or not. I am like my father in this manner. I guess I hadn't thought about it before this year, but it's true. It's almost scary how much it's true. My Dad will forever love J, even after everything that happened. Even after he lied to Dad just like he did me. We love him. We love his soul.

Thank you Dad for teaching me to love.

I love you.

Yesssssssssssssssssssss!!!!!!

I GOT ACCEPTED TO THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH TEXAS!!!!!

I'm going to art school!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Woooo whooooo!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Because of you...

I am so sick and tired of being stabbed in the back. I'm tired of being everyone else's doormat. I'm tired of working my butt off and getting nothing in return. I'm am tired of being hurt. TIRED OF IT!!!!!! I'm not sure what it is, I'm not sure why it is but I'm sure I'm tired of it.

I have lost: three of my best friends (C, T & J who were supposed to be there. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THERE!!!! And J, you just gave up... AND YOU MADE VOWS, VOWS!!!!! before God and man) I've lost respect for all humanity, there have been times when I have lost the will to live... I've lost all desire to trust anyone.

I'm tired of trusting people with myself and getting SCREWED OVER!!!!!!! If you're going to talk about me, do it when I'm standing there, not when I'm not around and can't defend myself. I WAS THERE FOR YOU!!!!!! And this is how I'm repaid???!?!?!?!! What the heck? How dare you. Do you really think I wanted all this to happen, and now, instead of being there you're going to condemn me to Hell and leave me for dead. Thanks. Thanks. Because God can forgive your sin and not mine? Got the book and verse for that one? I'm sure you do... YOU HAVE MISSED THE BOAT. MISSED IT.


And then I think of Christ... and I cry.


And I'm sick of crying. And I'm sick of trying to please everyone else, because even when you do they hate you for it anyway. Sick. Sick. Sick.

She really should do commercials...

Sydney's sportin' the Doggles!

Doggles

So I bought these sunglasses for Sydney called Doggles. She wears them when we're riding in the car. The best part about this (besides her looking so cool) is the reactions of people in neighboring cars. Friday my bro, Sydney and I were on our way to my apartment from Memaw's house. My bro and I had on our boonie hats (what satisfaction) and Sydney her Doggles. At a stop light a man in a truck glanced over and started to chuckle at the sight of a dog with its head out the window... with sunglasses on! I watched as he dug around in his console for something. Sure enough, he pulled out his camera phone and took a picture! I thought it was great! Sydney and I should be in Sprint commercials. I could use the extra cash and Sydney is bound for stardom... after all, with a face like that, who wouldn't be?

At the next light we were at my brother saw a lady look over and start laughing hysterically at Sydney in her Doggles. I love it. Who knew a pair of $10 Doggles from doggles.com (those of you with dogs and Jeeps, this is a must) would bring so much happiness to so many people? I feel my $10 was not frivolous spending at all, but a way to change the world. After all, Sydney can prevent road rage with that cute face and those fabulous Doggles.

Will it never end?

I put my application into the University of North Texas about a week ago. Found out on Thursday that ACU had not sent my transcipt to them yet, so the application process was on hold. Faxed a transcript request to ACU and now I wait. I hate the wait. I have told myself that I will have peace no matter the circumstances or outcome of the situation... as I did before with UTD and the audiology program. And over all I do have peace, I just can't stand the waiting between now and then.

And to be quite honest, I'm afraid. My mind is dizzy with the "what ifs." Ug. This doesn't sound like it should be that big of a deal and in the grand scheme of things, it isn't. But in the mean time I wait. And waiting is never any fun.

Happy 4th?

I have always loved the 4th of July... from the cheesy patriotic music to the setting of of fireworks. Last night some friends and I went to watch fireworks in Addison at "Kaboom Town." Apparently they've done this for many years and people sit on the sidewalks and park their cars and trucks in empty land lots and watch the spectacular display of fireworks. We were all sitting around talking about what we used to do for the 4th when we were children and I got to thinking. And this thinking made my heart ache for days when things weren't so complicated, when chilled watermelon and a Roman Candle were the epitomy of happiness... when catching fireflies in glass jars so as to contain the magic of them for just a moment and sleeping with windows open on hot summer nights were all we knew. When the biggest upset or heartbreak was someone calling you a bad name or not wanting to play the game you wished to play.

On this 4th of July, I long for the days of the less complicated and heartbreaking. I long for the peace that comes with good friends and the best family in the world.

And while I'm not with my family, I have peace. I have good friends now and I realize I can make it. I will make it.

So, happy 4th of July everyone! I hope yours is the best one yet... and if it isn't that you realize that it can only get better. It can only get better.

Fire & Rain

I heard some James Taylor on the way to work this morning. He always makes me think of my Mom, not sure why but especially when I hear Fire & Rain and Shower the People.
I love the lyrics to this song and they hit home with me today especially, so I decided to post them. Besides it's musical genius, it makes me long for home. Here and after...

Fire & Rain
Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone.
Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you.
I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song,
I just can't remember who to send it to.
I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.

Won't you look down upon me, Jesus, You've got to help me make a stand.
You've just got to see me through another day.
My body's aching and my time is at hand and I won't make it any other way.
Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.

Been walking my mind to an easy time, my back turned towards the sun.
Lord knows when the cold wind blows it'll turn your head around.
Well, there's hours of time on the telephone line to talk about things to come.
Sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground.

Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend,
but I always thought that I'd see you baby, one more time again, now.

Thought I'd see you one more time again.
There's just a few things coming my way this time around, now.
Thought I'd see you, thought I'd see you, fire and rain, now.

Blur

At this time, vision is blurred
purpose and reality distorted, stiffled

dreams are so vivid but long coming

paint these pictures in my mind,
make them real with the pen

Fizzle out, exhausted from my keep,
like flat coke -
wasted.

Blurry.

Wipe the haze from my eyes - remains
This miasma so perplexing and yet -
compelling.

Am I drowning?
How long must I wander half blind
in this cold place? this heartless orb?

Grasping, gasping for anything - please show me

To have peace, to see a light -
hope at last ...

make the high places level so that my feet
may have even paths to tread!

Show me the way -

but there is only the blur

Blessings?

Prentice preached a few months ago about Jacob wrestling with God and how he asked God for a blessing at the end of the "battle." My mom told me that due to that fact that I have wrestled with God for a good 2 1/2 years that my blessing is coming soon.

This makes me wonder. What type of a blessing? Is there actually going to be a "significant" blessing for the times we spent in trial. I have wonderful friends here in Dallas now that I never imagined I would have. I have a wonderful supportive family. I have a great dog and an apartment with air conditioning, a fridge with food in it and a closet full of clothes.

While I DO NOT taken these blessings for granted and thank God every time I think about how lucky I am, (really and truly, despite everything previous to this new-found renaissance in my life) I wonder. I am in a singles group that needs new leadership and for several months now have felt called to step up and take action. Is this the blessing? Positions of leadership are rarely a blessing. They are more often struggles. I have always been one to love a challenge, no matter what the challenge. And I feel that inspite of the "D" and inspite of being in a singles group (where I never thought I would be... by every right shouldn't be) I feel blessed. I feel called. I feel that God truly does "work for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." It's one thing to know something, its entirely another to experience it. I just keep thinking, "How is it I am so blessed?"

I have a friend who tells me all the time (and it gets old hearing it) that I'm "way too healthy for where [I've] been." First of all, what is that supposed to mean, and second, no I'm not. Considering where I've come from, I'm so happy to be sane again its almost maddening. Besides it never did anyone any good to sit in their own misery - it gets you no where.

This post isn't going to make sense to anyone, I'm sure. But I felt the need to get these thoughts off my chest regardless.

I've decided to post a blog about my Bizzle, the GreatBeefalo. I've really enjoyed his presence since he moved to my area of Texas. He'll kill me for posting a pic, but I like this picture because it's goofy and fun and so typical of our times together. One of my favorite things to do with my bro is drive around because he does this real funny thing. I haven't named it yet, but its real funny. Explaining it will not do it justice, but I will try in vain anyway. When passing signs he will read them as they are written, for example if in all caps he yells it. So a sign might read, "Joe's CRAB SHACK" and so he reads it accordingly. So he says quietly "Joe's" and then yells "CRAB SHACK!!" It's hysterical. Trust me... it is. Among other things, I like being able to spend time with my bro whether walking 2 miles at a nearby park, venting the stresses of the day or watching old movies at my apartment... or seeing new movies at the theatre. It's also nice to have him around when I need guy advice, even though it annoys him to no end.

Anyway, this is my youngest bizzle and I. We're tight and I'm glad to have him in my life. Thanks for making me laugh when I want to cry... even though some days you make me crazy! I guess that's a bizzle's job though, right?

Unusually Annoyed

I have been unusually annoyed with people as of late. It disturbs me since I'm usually not so prone to irritation so easily. And I want to SCREAM curses at people. And that's odd for me as well. I don't know what the deal is. I think it's probably stress due to my job. I think my job may get the better of me if I don't do something quick. In the last month I have had migraines out the wazoo and they're only getting worse. I think the minute I hit the office door a trigger is pulled in my head. So, this blog is about venting. Instead of venting about the idiot drivers on the road or some idiot at the local Walmart, I'm going to vent about what really has my goat.

I am an educated individual. I have a degree that I worked my butt off to get. I do not need some woman telling me that 400 times a day when to do something or how to do it especially when it's something as menial as taking the correct number of copies to Office Depot or placing the correct number of copies into the exhibitor packets or what have you. I HATE being belittled. I am not stupide. I'M NOT STUPID LADY!!!!! The space between my ears is not empty... you didn't even attempt to go to college, I have more life experience from that alone than you do so shut it. I don't care about your stupid shows. I'm not going to go behind your back and try to take over your business! I DON'T WANT IT!!!!!!! HEAR ME, DON'T WANT IT! In fact, I'm pretty sure I hate it. There I said it. Hate. I hate my job. Really and truly.

People will follow a leader when they respect and admire them and when they are respected in return. At first people follow a leader because they have to, because of position, but eventually your leadership has to build some kind of repport: respect, compassionate, mercy, justice... good grief. When you don't come to a place where you're respected for who you are and who you are becoming, then you have lost the grounds for leading. You no longer have that foothold with which in influence.

I know I'm not as old as you... but you have things to learn from me as well NH. And if you'd ever actually listen instead of trying so hard to think of a come-back maybe you'd figure a few things out and maybe you wouldn't have such a high turn-over.

PetSmart's Not-So-Smart

I was in PetSmart this morning on the dog treat isle looking at treats for Sydney. I knew exactly which treats to get. I knew exactly where to find them. I was not looking for any other treats or dog food; if I was I would have asked. Out of no where comes this woman. In my hands I had the Science Diet Jerky treats Sydney likes so well and a bottle of gravy to put on dog food as an occasional treat (I decided this might be a fun thing to try).

"Can I help you find any dog food today?" she asked.
"No thanks. I already know exactly what I'm getting."

At that right there, she should have been smart and turned around and walked off. But alas, she inspected what I had in my hand and immediately started her full assault about the evils of Science Diet and the terrors of adding calories to dog food when trying to get them to eat.

"If your dog isn't eating, you might try the canned dog food instead of adding calories to the dry food with gravy."
"Actually, I was only going to use it as an occasional treat." I said sardonically.

She gave me a queer look and continued on... some percentages about Iams dog food (I made the mistake of telling her my intent of buying it) and how it has 66% less ya ya and blah bidy blah blah crap. Whatever lady. I looked to my left for relief, but my brother made his way to the other end of the isle leaving me to crusade for Iams by myself. When she finally shut up, I continued to the end of the isle, picked up a box of Milk Bones, went a few isles over and picked up the sensitive digestive Iams in the red sack. My bro and I walked down the center isle of PetSmart and when I spotted The Lady sitting by her brand of dog food I tried to catch her eye and smile, just to piss her off. She wouldn't look at me but she did make sure to assess to the contents of my cart. Yeah lady, Iams stands for (as my bro stated later): "I AM Sick of you're crap!"

I was venting to my brother in the Jeep on the way out. What I wanted to say to her was:

"Lady, if my Dad thinks that these dog treats are good enough for our dogs at home; if my Dad thinks that it's o.k. for my Sydney who has a jacked up stomach... then it's o.k. because he's the best damn veterinarian on God's green earth so shut the #$*#$#& up. If he's been a veterinarian for 7 years and is already President of New Mexico's veterinary association AND HAS BEEN VOTED NEW MEXICO'S VETERINARIAN OF THE YEAR then I think the food and treats he recommends are o.k. SO SHUT-UP. Just shut your liberal thinking, PETA loving pie hole."

Anyway, I've never been accosted so at PetSmart but that was enough molestation to last a year or so. I should send this to PetSmart. They may loose a client. I just want to buy my dog food and get out. Leave me alone.

The Calling

I feel like all I do is fake it,
put on this plastic smile
Play it to the crowd.

Medicate me so I'll be happy
these pearly whites glean only
white lies -
because you don't want to know
the truth.

But I feel the need to do so -
called so, to put on these airs.

At least this way I don't feel
so
different
so much
of
the time.

Fibonacci

a dove -
from the clefts of the rock
deep into the crevices of your body,
the comforting peace of your soul
Spooning - fitted into you
A puzzle wound together,
like cogs & gears stopped in motion

Fibonacci:
Perfection.

And for once it will all make sense
and the beauty will be seen
for what it is
And freedom will mean release
And love won't mean prison

the easy ebb and flow of the backbone
the curve of the knees
interlaced digits - trailing tips
the Security
the ease with which to say and be

Fibonacci.

Props to the Beefalo

Attention all Bloggers:
My brizzle the Great Beefalo of all that is beefy and good in this world just called and informed me that he rode a roller coaster called "Batman" at Six Flags in Arlington, Texas. All I have to say is:

WAY TO GO BEEF!!! I'm rizzle-sizzle proud.

You rock my socks off.

And if you'd rode the Giant, you would have rocked yours off. But that's beside the point, you ROCK!!!!!

Random Acts of Laughter...

So I was checking a map today at work and while doing so had a thought. A REALLY funny one. One so funny that I had to laugh outloud. And for an extended period of time. My office-mate (a dear friend) turned around and asked me what was going on. I told her.

Last night, my bro and I rented a movie and went back to my apartment to watch it. We discovered when we got to my place that my roommate was home. Upon this discovery he said, "Oh crap, Tizzle Bizzle is home."

When I remembered this, I couldn't help but laugh.

HAAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!!

Sears

My bro and I had to go to Sears yesterday to get a battery for my Jeep. We walked inside hurridedly (I was off work for a few hours for a doctor's appointment and this was an unexpected stop)and when I didn't see Automotive looked for a sales associate. Upon seeing one I approached him and said, "I'm looking for a car battery." He replied, "Car batteries are in automotive." Really? I thought they might keep them in kitchen accesories. I stood there for a second, stared blankly ahead for affect, considered shoving the heel of my shoe where the sun don't shine and then proceded to try again.

"Where is automotive?"
"That's in the building outside."

I then turned around and headed out the door. I was really frustrated. But it was insane. Did the man really think I didn't know that a car battery would be found in automotive? Car batteries go in cars. And cars are automobiles. Therefore we can assess that car batteries would be found in the automotive section of the store.

I should have asked him if he knew where I could find ammo for a 1911. "Would that be in automotive as well sir?"

The Issue of Women

I had coffee with a man last night who is planting a church in Colorado that will be more "women and instrument friendly." The issue of women pisses me off.

I have no issues with men. I sat and talked with a man. Looked him in the eye for extended periods of time and my foot even touched his leg by accident under the table. I can eat at the same table with them and have intelligent disucssions with the best of them. I can teach their children. I can do a lot of things and am happy with it. I'm not sure what he was talking about or what point he was trying to make, but it was frustraing and mostly ran in circles.

I'm not sure who has the issues, women or men. Anyway, it is always irritating to me.

Shifting Sands

Like an hour glass -
shifting sands, the granules mini-movements
creating rip-tides
slipping away -
time & thoughts of you.

Like spent gun powder the smell
burns my nostrils & stops my heart.
Entertaining a dream.
So slipping away -
it all slips away
to settle unhealthily in my belly.
Ulcer.
Gritty particles, molten
now creating glass
Stabbing, cutting, ripping, tearing.
The Salty blood stings
but I conceal it well - I always do.
And you will never know
because I will never let you.
So the sands stop -
runs out of time -
space, life, energy, inertia, being --- hope.

And you go on.
Turn the glass over.
Painfully start the process again - shifting sands.
Serpentine movements, spiraling downward,
funneling
endlessly.

Cycles

Duel of the Cookie Fates

My misguided and ill-concieved brother has this crazy idea that because I have been rececently lavished with compliments regarding my excellent skills in the art of cookie baking by several men (being much more advanced in years and wisdom than he) that this is some kind of a fluke and that he is really the best of the cookie bakers in the family. He has gone so far as to publish a blog and state his claims on the world wide web saying that his cookies have thrown countries into wars. Well brother dear, I've got news for you. I have news.

My cookies were destroying countries and bringing men to their knees long before your feet ever touched the ground. The taste of one chocolatly morsale, the texture of perfectly browned dough melting on the tongue of one so longing and pursuing perfection was driving men off the cliffs of insanity before you were even named, before the sperm hit the egg. Yes. Yes my brother.

Roswell, NM - yeah, they say that was about an alien spacecraft crashing, but the government had to make up something to cover up the fact that the extraterrestrials were really coming to take over the world. However, if it had not been for my baking a batch of my famed and esteemed cookies there would have been an intergalatic war on our hands. But no - due to the delictible goodies baked by the strong hands of good will and peace for the better of us all, the planet was saved from a most vile destruction.

Brother dear, we know you have cookie envy. And it's ok. It's ok. There's no sense in denying it. We can find you help... there is always help. You just have to ask.

This is my Sydney... I'm re-posting the picture. It didn't turn out the right way last time and I didn't have time to fix it. So, here she is in all her magnificant glory! I love the Sydney dog... my Snuggle Muffin.

Ode to Joy!

I found my Metallica Black Album!!!!

This is Sydney and Harley (my roommate's dog). They're so happy! I think I like posting pictures... especially with my new Fugi digital camera... there's no end to the madness!!!!!

Dreams

I woke up at 3:11 am with the vivid feelings of the remainder of a dream I had. It was so strange... so real. It was insane! It was all so convincing, the flesh, the smells, the feelings of the stairs under my feet and that tingling sensation you get when standing at the edge of something high off the ground, so high that it makes your head spin. Wow. No wonder insane people are insane. Our minds are incredible. How is it we can convince ourselves something is reality when it isn't... or is it? What defines reality anyway? Who defines reality? And what makes it reality?

Wow. I was so convinced. And so dissapointed to find it wasn't real. Maybe that's why paranoid peopel become paranoid. They long so much to be wanted to by someone that they take it to extremes? Its interesting to think about anyway.

Email Addresses

My bro and I were discussing the other day the monotony of people's email addresses. I know I will step on some toes here, but I don't care. At work right now I'm inputting email addresses so that we can send out a mass $2 Off Coupon for our next show. I would guess that the percentage of people's email addresses that consist of "theirname@blahblah.com" is about 85. That's terrible. Now, I understand that if you're using a business email address you wouldn't want to have "hotmamma@mybusiness.com" but for personal use, why not? Isn't that the point of email? To be fun and creative? To express oneself? So why do all these people have these boring email addresses involving their first and last names? Is the public that mindless? Wait. Nevermind. I for one have decided that I will have an email address involving some sort of crazy name other than the one on my birth certificate until I die. I hope it annoys and confuses lots of people. I hope they think I'm immature.

I would appreciate your opinions on this matter.

Dress Code

So today, after being dressing like a complete slob yesterday, I have come to work looking very nice. This may not seem like such an accomplishment for those of you who go to work every day in a suite and tie or in a skirt and blouse. My boss does not require us to dress in such attire. Yesterday, due to running extremely late, I came in a baseball cap, jeans, a capsleeved shirt and stylish tennis shoes. Yes ladies, I was wearing a belt. A little less than business casual shall we say, but I felt today the need to show off a bit especially due to the nature of my co-workers who are obsessed with Gucci and Prada and never come to work looking anything other than something off the cover of Cosmo. So today I came in with my Express slacks, a nice v-necked sleevless summer sweater, a scarf tied around my neck (this is big time for me folks... my cousin in Namibia should be proud), heels (yes, yes, this is especially big time because I HATE heels), and just the right jewelry. Simple elegance is my motto (when not in jeans and a t-shirt). Well, as they say in the musicial Chicago, "razzle dazzle 'em"... so I did my best. And I feel triumphant. So triumphant in fact I may try this every day!

Its just that my jeans are so comfortable... and who cares what Cosmo says anyway?

Don't Tell Me What to Do

There's this guy who keeps telling that I need to "get over it." First of all, my grandmother is the only person who is allowed to tell me that. Second of all, shut up. Who does he think he is? What is he even talking about? It doesn't matter what the conversation is or what it is I'm ranting about he tells me to "get over it."

Its annoying.

Think Cap

I think about all the people that have had influences on me... those that have helped form who I am, family and those that might as well be.
I think about my friends. I think about the kind of friends that have brought me through hell and back and those friends whose relationships are more one-sided because they don't know how to be a friend.
I think about being hurt. The things said that do so much damage that if it could be physically seen it would disgust people, but because it can't people continue to spout their sewage and ruin and destroy others but mere words throw via forked tongue.
I think about being loved. And what is love anyway? So many things. Work though, mostly I think. Lots of work. And love doesn't work unless both parties are working for it.
I think about S.C., who I've only know for a very short time but who has become such and integral part of my life. I don't know what I'd do without her friendship and what I'd do without her accountability! How am I so blessed?

And I want to cry and laugh and scream.

That's life.

The Mind Debate of the Blog

Blogging started out as such a blessing and has become such a curse. My blogs are never witty and charming like my uncles or intelligent and political like my brothers. No, I'm afraid they are very depressing and morbid. Initially the thought of bearing my soul to the universe without the attachment was so appealing. I never really intended for the blog to become a diary, but it seems that that is what it is evolving into. I don't tell people I know I have it, because it would inhibit what I write on it. Now however, that I know several of the people who will be reading it it makes it harder. And besides, no one wants to get on a blog and read depressing thought provoking crap, right? I suppose since half my family thinks I'm insane anyway... it doesn't matter. And the rest of you don't know me from Adam. Having said all this, on with the seriousness. Some days you just need to write down the crap you're feeling so you don't make the mistake of taking it out on someone else. Some days you need to write something funny even if it sounds crazy. And some days you need to joke about killing yourself just so you feel better.

Anyway, I am going to try to write with a more light hearted air (just so we don't all commit a mass suicide :). But I'm making no promises to the blog audience (the whole two of you out there).

I appreciate those of you who do read and look forward to your posts.

Screaming Infedelities

It all started when I went to my grandmother's for lunch today. Little benknownst to me was the fact that my aunt and her daughter's child were there eating as well. The Wee One is two and a half and still not talking. Yeah. Having my undergraduate degree in speech-pathology, don't even get me started. So, I'm eating my tuna and Fritos (a specialty: cheap and yummy) when the Wee One decides to, as my aunt says, "sing a song." Let me just tell you that it nothing close to being a song. Songs have melody. Songs have harmony. Songs have intonation and pitch and tone. They are not however the God-aweful wailing and groaning that this child proceded to make. My aunt, however, had to go on for my entire lunch (which I decided to cut from 1 hour to 30 minutes due to this episode) about how great this song of the Wee One's was and how cute it was and so on. She even decided to put words in the Wee One's mouth, what she was singing about and so on... words that did not exist or even start to form on the little tikes lips. Good grief. It was all I could do to keep from puking. Not because I don't love the Wee One, because God knows I do. And besides, the tuna was too good to waste on vomitting it up. But my aunt is ruining her. Ruining her. But that's another blog for another day.