belly button lint

Bob on a T, and not the crossin kind

2009-12-05T12:13:00.000-08:00

So yesterday, I saw Bob on a Christmas tee-shirt in the mall. Now, what was I doin' in a mall, you say? Well, nothin' spritely, just me and my lover-dee-do walkin' around and enjoyin the silence of nobody knowin our names. Sweet times . . .

Oh, didjall know that me and my first Honey was back in the saddle again? Prolly not, cuz see seein RBD on a tee and havin just said about my blog to my lover-dee-dee a coupla days ago made me member that I ain't been here in a bit. So we are, and it's awesome, to say the least . . . almost a year y'see, and she gave up everythin just to come home to me. Sweet times . . . yea . . . sweet times

Soz anyhoot, we were walkin thru the mall and I see Bob on a Christmas tee, and I near busted my britches I's laughin s'hard. "BOB ON A CHRISTMAS TSHIRT!" sez I. And as I come round the kiosk, the boy inside is near bustin his britches, too, cuz he knowed he got CAUGHT! BUSTID by a BOB-KNOWER! We wuz both laffin and laffin and nobody knowed what we was laffin about, ya see, so when we looked round at all the peoples lookin round at us, we just laffed even harder still.

And as I walked away, nearly outta sight, I told him I'd wish him a Merry Christmas, but then he'd just put Bob on it anyway. But that's alright, sez I, Merry Christmas anyway, and have a good night!

Love and Babies

2008-12-22T11:52:00.000-08:00

1. They always come at inconvenient times.

2. If they waited until we were ready or prepared for them, they would never get here.

3. When you least expect it, something magickal and beautiful arrives, even before the anguish and pain from just a few moments ago has had a chance to subside.

4. They grow and change too fast for us to keep up, and too slow for us to not be impatient.

5. Most importantly, they are both gifts from God, and if we do not treasure them, they will be gone before we know it.

Wonder, Grace, and the Great Gilly Hopkins

2008-10-29T08:46:00.000-07:00

Ah, Gilly! The child who spent most of her inner energy wishing for stability, while her actions indicated that she wanted otherwise . . . How often have we each encountered those very same conflicting emotions – and reacted with similar results? We wish for someone or something upon which we can depend, yet our behavior often suggests that the opposite is true. The answer would seem simple: That upon which we concentrate most is often what unfolds in our lives. If we concentrate most on what we do not want, then that is what Universe will send our way. In some circles, it is believed that Universe does not know the difference between I-want and I-do-not-want; Universe only knows where each person’s energy is being directed, and so sends those things or situations that have attracted the most attention. Gilly put most of her energy into pushing away what she did not want, rather on embracing than what she did want. Of course, for most of her life, she did not know what she truly wanted; like most of us, since she knew more about what she did not want, she put more emphasis on that, rather than on finding ways to attract what she did want. It is no wonder, then, that when her heart’s true desire came in the form of Mrs. Trotter and the people in her world, Gilly did not recognize the gift she had been given. Has this not been true of each of us at various points in our journeys?

Like many of us, Gilly truly wanted dependability in the midst of contingency. All of life is contingent, even in the best of circumstances. A stray bullet, an errant driver, a well-timed bolt of lightning . . . any of these can disrupt and end life as we know it. Within the tiniest fraction of a moment, the life that we thought we knew and loved could vanish, leaving each person to face the choice of whether to pick up the pieces left behind or to start anew from nothing at all. Was this the choice, we sometimes wonder, that God faced? Was there some cosmic Big Bang where the inhabitants of a world similar to this blew themselves up, leaving God with a choice of whether to pick up the pieces and begin again, or to start anew with a voice in the midst of a void? The essential nature of life, from which we often run, would seem to be the very simple fact that none of this has to be as it is, right in this moment. All that we think we know could dissolve, and the dissolving disillusionment that follows is part of a process that most of us seem to fear and try to avoid at all costs. That is where Gilly – and we – make our most telling mistake: We begin concentrating so much of our energies on (avoiding) contingency that we fail to recognize and embrace the dependability we so earnestly desire from within. Desire, like love, is static until we focus energy on it. In other words, until desire becomes a verb with which we imbue with energetic action – showing, seeking, discovering – it can only remain a word on a page, sometimes less than a fleeting thought through the mind. Until we put our hearts and souls into living the dependability we so desire, into – in Gandhi’s words – becoming the change we wish to see, we will continue to attract that which gets the most attention: the chaos of contingency.

The key would seem to lie in embracing contingency as part of life’s process, thereby freeing us to focus our energies on becoming the dependability that we seek in the midst of the chaos. How can one depend on one’s faith, if one does not concentrate one’s energies on being faithful? How can one depend on God’s love and grace in times of trouble, if one does not concentrate one’s energies on being loving and grace-filled in the midst of the chaos that others experience? Rarely does God’s grace and love come gift-wrapped in a package that falls on us from outer space. Most often, God sends love and grace through other people in ways that can only be recognized from within, first. In order for grace and love to be felt from within, it would seem that it must come from within, first. This is the lesson that Gilly – who represents each of us children of God – learns late and, of course, the hard way. She, battered by her frequently broken heart, does not recognize that she has arrived at the home for which she has most longed. Life’s contingencies have ripped the rug from under her so many times that in an act of final desperation, she rips her own rug from under her own feet, and must live with the consequences that she has created. Fortunately for Gilly – and for us – the story does not end there, for in doing so, Gilly ends up in the home of the one living entity who helped create her, just as we will eventually return to the Home of the One Living Entity who created each of us. The wonder of it all is that for the many times we get lost and lose ourselves, we make it Home at all. It is enough to make one wonder whether God has installed the Spirit as some sort of homing device, so that no matter how lost we cause our souls to be, they return to the One who is never lost, but only hidden deep within.

Gilly Hopkins is great, indeed, as is each of us. Through her story, we can interpret our own journeys. For, is it not so that each of us goes through many foster homes – places that were dependable only for a season – before we finally reach Home? Is it not so that when we feel tossed aside by contingency, we become confused into thinking that contingency created us, and so we must also become contingent in our own interactions with ourselves and with others – and with God? Is it not so that after a lifetime of creating contingency, we forget what true dependability really looks like, and so, looking through our human eyes leads us to fail to see it when it does arrive? And, is it not so that it is only after we have propelled ourselves from the embrace of true dependability that hindsight can finally show us what we have missed, and that it is only then that we begin to realize that we must put energy into becoming what we want to have, instead of putting that energy into not having what we do not want?

When you are hungry for eggs, it is pointless to reach into the refrigerator with only the intent of not grabbing the bacon. For when your only intent is to not grab the bacon, sure enough, it will be the bacon that leaps into your hands first; the eggs will never even have a chance. Likewise, when dependability is what we seek, it is pointless to reach within Universe, with only the intent of avoiding contingency. For if we reach within Universe, with only the intent of avoiding contingency, sure enough, it will be contingency that will leap toward us first; dependability will never even have a chance.

My Story: Depression

2008-10-19T16:54:00.000-07:00

In August 1985, at the age of 17, I discovered that I was pregnant. Young and inexperienced, but with a pretty good sense of self, I decided that I was neither ready nor willing to be a mother. I wanted to have an abortion, but parental permission was denied. I considered adoption, but the closer I got to having my son, the more I realized that I would not be emotionally strong enough to give him up. Over the years, I have had friends and beloved ones who have had abortions, and because I know that it is such a heart wrenching and soul searing decision, I admire them for the people they are and I think that their strength in the face of what had to be the most difficult decisions they have ever had to make is to be both commended and respected. I did not choose to not have an abortion; that choice was made for me. Like any medical procedure, I believe that such decisions are best left to the people directly involved and their primary medical care providers. But this is not a story about teen pregnancy or abortion; it is a story about depression.

Sixteen years after my son was born, I suffered a devastating emotional breakdown. A strong woman, I suddenly found myself unable to cope with living in the world I had created, and so I called my mother and begged her to allow me to come live with her. It was 2001, and it would be the first time since my son was very small that I would be living under my mother's roof. The intergenerational factor notwithstanding, I had also come out as a lesbian – something that my mother had come to believe would surely send my soul to hell. It made life difficult, to say the least. But this is not a story about being a lesbian; it is a story about depression.

A few months after moving into my mother's house, I secured a job working as an administrative assistant at a non-profit organization. This organization provided educational opportunities for healthcare providers in the fields of obstetrics and gynecology, so that they could keep their training and licensure current by earning needed continuing education credits through coursework and practical experience. The nonprofit also advocated for legislation that reinforced a woman's right to make her own pregnancy termination choices, should such become necessary – a position that I highly respect and value. As I progressed within the organization, my job became more specialized, and I began work in the area of membership acquisition. Part of my responsibilities entailed reading the journal articles published by members of our association in various medical journals.

Several factors came into play, between November 2001 and February 2003: a new living situation, a new job, a child who was angry at having to move in his junior year of high school, falling in love, getting kicked out of my mother's home for being a "practicing" lesbian, moving in with my new lover, a chance encounter that led to PTSD flashbacks from childhood and adult sexual traumas, and intense therapy to learn coping mechanisms for all of those situations. When I read an article by one of my association's doctors, detailing an abortive procedure that required the insertion of a needle into an unborn's brain and literally sucking the life out of that fetus before inducing its forced expulsion, I began having panic attacks every single day as I walked into the office. While I am strongly supportive of a woman's right to choose, discovering the details of this specific procedure caused me no end of heartache and regret. In the end, my then-partner encouraged me to resign my position, as it had become clear that along with everything else, a complete mental and spiritual meltdown was imminently approaching.

The whirlwind hit with a force that I had never encountered before. Nightmares, daymares, flashbacks . . . emotional imprisonment. My mind was no longer a safe place to be. Over the next two years, I would watch myself slowly slide into a chasmic abyss from which there seemed no escape; I turned from a confident and self-assured woman into this near-agoraphobic child that I hardly recognized. I dared not look in the mirror, for fear of coming face-to-face with what I had become.

I had a few saving graces during that time.
• My then-partner did not abandon me, even though promise after promise remained unfulfilled. For instance, I had promised that if I were allowed to quit my job, I would keep the house spotless and have dinner on the table every night. It was understandably disappointing and anger-inducing when many days, I felt triumphant if I could just get out of bed and wash the dishes. There were many arguments during that time, but hindsight has revealed that we were both doing the best we could while struggling with and against each other – and our selves – in very unfamiliar territory.

• Another saving grace came in the form of our choir director, and by extension, our church itself. Our choir director became my rock, my anchor. She saw into me in ways that I kept hidden, even from my therapist. She held me when I wept, and she taught me how to be strong again, through the most gentle and firm ways imaginable. She was actually the first person I encountered when the flashbacks began, and from that moment, she made me a priority in her life. At 2:00 AM, when the nightmares kept me awake, I called her and she helped me go back to sleep. In the middle of the afternoon, when I grew silent and withdrew, she called right at the moment when the walls started to close in on me. And she recognized my penchant for isolating. So she got me to use my administrative wizadry to help her keep our music ministry – and her office – organized. I was SO GRATEFUL for a reason to get out of the house, out of my own mind's prison, and to keep functioning. If I needed to not be there, she understood and supported me. But when she could see that I had too much time on my hands, she filled my hands so that my mind could heal. She became my first mentor in the ministry, and she will always embody those qualities in a mom that my own mother was unable to provide.

• By extension, my church is also a saving grace for me. After much encouragement from my then-partner, I underwent training to become a deacon, and just the opportunity to be surrounded by people who take care of people – and to be of help in taking care of every one of them – provided me the opportunity to be cared for, myself. I think that this can occur in any situation – a hospital, nursing home, church – anyplace that provides sanctuary and care of others is such a healing place to give and receive the gifts of love and grace. When I started ministering to the needs of others, I found my own needs being ministered to, as well. And as I say "ministering", I am not just speaking of the classic meaning of ministry – in a church – but of the overarching meaning: the caregiving, the support, the doing-for-others-ness that occurs when I give freely of myself, not expecting or wanting any sort of payment in return. I find a little bit of me in the people I help, and I have come to accept that that is not selfish or co-dependent. It is interdependent. My health does not depend on whether they need me. My health depends, in part, on my own willingness to use my gifts to help myself to help others to help themselves.

• My therapist was and is a saving grace for me. In those first few months, we saw each other three times a week, every week. She was another anti-agoraphobic agent. I had to get out of the house to see her, which meant riding the bus and train for up to two hours each way. My MP3 player and I got very close in those first few months, and I still keep it in reserve for when I have to be in the city, riding public transportation. Probably the most important thing my therapist did for me is twofold: First, she gave me homework for every day between our sessions; and second, she put the responsibility for my recovery into my own hands. It was my responsibility to put into practice the tools and techniques she taught me; it was up to me to journal or draw or talk through those events that, when locked away, only ate at my soul and at my life. It was all up to me, and I have no doubt that if I were still seeing her three times a week after six months, she would have recommended me to another therapist. Her goal was that I get better, and her level of professionalism dictated that if I weren't showing signs of progress, then she would have suggested I continue my treatment elsewhere. That inspired a level of trust within me that I had not felt in a very long time.

I would like to say that I am completely depression free now, and that all of life is rosy and happy, every moment of every day. That would be a lie. A very wise friend recently told me that "health is a choice." It is a choice that I have to make every single day – and, to be honest, sometimes I have to make that choice moment-by-moment. I still battle my depression because like my sciatica and pinched nerves, depression is a chronic disease that – left untreated – will eat away at my core, and will eventually erode my sense of self, my relationships, and my life. That same wise friend says that, "depression kills, but with a very long and slow timeline." If I am not careful, I will not see that it is destroying me until I look around and see the destruction it leaves in the wake of my life.

I am definitely on "happy pills"; Zoloft has been a Godsend. But Zoloft alone is not enough. Without the care of my therapist, the love of several dear people, and my own willingness to push myself beyond what I thought were my limitations, I would still be locked in my own home, a prisoner of my own mind. But the most important thing I think I did was that I let go, and I did what I was told to do. I stopped struggling, stopped giving my therapist and my friends and my beloved ones reasons for why I could not, and I made the decision to just get up and do what I was told. I discovered that because I stopped trusting my parents' abilities to act in my own best interests, as a very young child, that I had a lot of trouble picking the right people to trust in, as I grew into an adult. Of the many people I have chosen to be in my life over the last 40 years, only a very small handful have proven to be ones that I want to grow old and die with. But then, that handful is not the handful that I have chosen; they are the ones whom I have encountered at the very most unlikely of times and have stuck with me, even when I did not want to stick with myself. (There is a lesson in there, I am sure of it.) But once I decided to just do what I was told – to trust the love of my therapist and my family-of-choice – a whole world opened up to me, and I have not regretted a single moment of this new ride that I am on. The beginning was hard and shaky and there were times when I got off, threw up, and then got right back on again. And there are still those upside down moments, backward turns, and major upheavals (spiritual, emotional, and spiritual) but I still do what I am told, especially in those moments when I have to admit that I do not know what I am supposed to do.

I had to decide that I wanted to be healthy. I still have to decide that I want to be healthy. Part of that decision is realizing that I do not always know what is best for me – that most times, it is the people who love me who know what is best for me. Someone looked in and found a place where I could come, just as I was, to work on my outside while I and my therapist worked on my inside. Someone encouraged me to push myself when I thought I was too weak to even want to get out of bed most days. Someone cared about me and did not let me keep playing those self-destructive tapes that drove me to kick myself while I was already down. Someone showed me grace and love, and showed me that I had grace and love to give, when I thought that that I had none and deserved neither. The people in my life were not just there for me. They were there with me – pulling, pushing, encouraging, cajoling, and forcing me to see things and do stuff that my mind would not allow my heart to admit I wanted to do. Of all of those, I thank God most for the parts where they pushed and forced me, because if they had not, then the pulling and cajoling and encouraging would have only netted moments of laughter – rather than the life of joy that I am privileged to be an active participant in.

I still have to choose to be healthy. At least now, though, it is not nearly as hard a choice as it once was. My mind is a safer place to be, and thank God for the amount of work that it takes to make sure it stays that way.

Top Ten . . .

2008-07-15T17:28:00.000-07:00

Reasons Why I Like Hangin Out With God

1. God talks back. Sometimes.

2. God's got the single parenting thing down to a science.

3. Hangin out with God means that I don't have to be the center of the universe.

4. It doesn't hurt my feelings when God laughs at me.

5. I don't have to vie for God's attention.

6. God never breaks a Commandment.

7. God doesn't hate or kill. God lets US decide - and live with the consequences of - what we hate and what we use to kill ourselves. And each other.

8. God doesn't care what I wear to class or what my hair looks like or whether I have brown, pink, golden, or brick-colored skin.

9. God loves what God makes. No exceptions.

10. God never needs God-Time.

WAITWAITWAIT . . . There's more . . .

11. God gets slack.

12. God is not Bob. God is not dead. God is God.

13. God is the only Thing that justs . . . everything.

14. God makes me smile, probably about as often as I make God laugh.

15. If I put on an alb and I'm talking out loud while walking alone down the street, nobody will even suspect the insanity that lurks within. That's cool as shit!

16. Playing in the Presence of God is a helluva lot more fun than crying in the absence of man.

We're M.I.

2008-07-07T00:06:00.000-07:00

Dunno, actually . . . I've so gotten away from writing as a whole. Not just bloggin but poetry and love letters to MyLover. Songs . . . I haven't written in so long, it's almost frightening. I wish I could say that I knew the moment it began, and actually I do, but can't meaning won't . . .

So I am, now . . . writing, that is. Of course, Greek starts next week, so it'll be interesting the direction that my writing takes over the next month-and-a-half. Stuff just coincides . . .

I've got emails to return, and ooh that is QUITE the bit of crow to eat, although I'll be feeding it to myself. My people are amazingly understanding: they let me know that I've been lax, but then they also let me know that they understand why. However, their understandingness doesn't let me off the hook. On the contrary, it drives me to keep myself right there on that hook 'til I have paid them my debt of kindness.

So many interesting things happening lately . . . A 3.5 for my first semester of Seminary. Some might say that this isn't a 'real' grad school, but I dare your average business major to take a walk in some of MY homework, and we'll see who has the more challenging courseload. Almost anyone can 3R - repeat, recite, and regurgitate - but few are willing to delve deeply into their soul's matter and live within its spiritual constructs. It is fun, though - imagine, a career where I can pick my own bellybutton lint, examine it and that of others, and share the whole experience in front of a roomful of forty to four hundred of my bestest friends. Weehee!

Gonna turn forty soon, speakin of which. I like that, and I'm grateful for that. Got a sweet grrl, an awesome kid, and as much family as I allow myself to be open to. I'm fuckin tired right now, though, so syonara, sweet dreams, and caviar.

Cheers!

short

2008-06-27T22:31:00.000-07:00

so like this friend of mine . . . sweet girl . . . gits shot in her house . . . shot dead . . . then they set her place afire . . . she's home alone . . . and i'm fuckin insane with insanity . . . hard sayin God bless everyone no exceptions . . .

what if you wanna make an exception

wwJd

if he was alive, he woulda drove a chevette . . . dya think he woulda pimped out his ass like ppl pimp out chevette's . . . would he've gave it some zebra stripes and a boostin ass sound system with humongous woofers and little tiny tweeters and a kickin ass . . . well would his ass've kicked ass, ya think? shit . . . J in a chevette . . . or maybe a chevelle, yanno? like black interior with a yellow and white paintjob with red stripes and a rainbow I-Love-You sticker?

just wonderin, yanno, cuz it ain't right . . . shit just ain't cool.

annyway, i need a bath. i'm all sweaty and sticky and all that, but i just kinda needed to vent, inbetween squidbillies n razzapple buzz and shit . . . just needed to trip before i get wet . . . well, hell . . . gettin wet's nice anyway

cheerios

rublu

Shiny Girls Finish First

2008-05-25T11:23:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I'm pretty cute. Everybody says so and you can only hear a thing so many times before you start believin it. And who'd lie to a dog, right? Right.

Ok, so check out the shine on my coat there. Glistening in the sunlight, yeah? Well, it might be pretty and I might be cute, but getting me to look like this did not make for a very cute morning. It all started so innocently . . .

Mommy got up, a little earlier than usual, but that wasn't a big deal. She sleeps like I sleep - whenever, wherever, til she's gotta go wee. So as she trekked her way to the echosystem, I got up and stretched . . . so tempted to try to get out of my harness again, but I'm still smartin from yesterday's Houdini display. You'd think she'd be proud of a puppy who can get out of any kind of binding, but nooooooooo. She rips me a new one every friggin time! I'm all like, "Look, Ma! No hands!" But then I don't sit right for the rest of the day. And those looks . . . Shit! 'S'enough to make you feel two legs short and three feet shorter. If you've ever gotten a Mommy Mad Look, you know for sure that you never want to get another one as long as you live!

So imagine my surprise when Mommy calls me over and takes off my harness herself this morning! I shoulda known somethin was up. Too late, she was leadin me by the collar . . . that's when it hit me! B-A-T-H time! Ooooh I tried to resist, but that damned tiled floor! Never can get a grip! But it does make my butt and pawnails slide a lot, so that was a plus. 'Til Mommy did the unthinkable. To hear her tell it, sixty pounds is a LOT when it plops up against a human tryin to share my bed. Well, okay, it's her bed, but only cuz I let her get in first. Anyhoot, so when I plop on, she acts like she's tryin to move the weight of the world. Apparently sixty pounds isn't really that heavy when it's B-A-T-H time, cuz she scooped me up and had me in the tub before I could even yelp right. 'Course by then, I didn't even want to yelp anymore. What was the point? It was all downhill from there anyway.

The waterspewerthingie was already spewin, and I've gotta admit - that water was warm and tasty! No additives, no preservatives, just straight from the spewer. Yum. Next thing I know, I'm all wet. Head to tail, just friggin soaked! Even my nose got wet. And I was shakin' and pantin like a bitch in heat!! Scared off my arse, I was! And then came the bubblystuff. It was cold at first! Made the hair on my tail stand up! Then Mommy rubbed in and the bubbles came. Now normally I like bubbles, but these smelled funny and tasted like yuck when one landed on my tongue. ILCH! The only nice part was that Mommy sat on the side of the tub with her feet inside where I was. I know it was just to help keep me in place, but it sure was comforting and I loved it that she got as spewed as I did! Heh heh . . . I think my shakin helped with that, but don't tell her that.

Second round of bubblestuff'n'spewrinse wasn't so bad. By then, I was pretty used to it. I was SO friggin glad when it was over, though! I got dried with a clean towel and Mommy laid out my blankie on the floor so I could dry off my belly and soothe my wounded pride. She said I did really good, though. Yay!

All in all, it wasn't so bad. We went outside and I've gotta admit, the wind sure felt nice next to my clean skin and coat. And I'm all shiny now too! Wait til my uncles and boyfriends see me! They'll love all over me even more than normal! I hate B-A-T-Hs, but I can always stand more lovins from the two-leggeds!

Peace out, Dudes! Woof!

BPhoCed

2008-05-21T22:27:00.000-07:00

so here i am, nearin 40, here for bout . . . mmmmm 4 months, give or take. and i'm the BPhOC. 's'right folks, i BPhOCed . . . daily, almost. and what a freakin sideshow it is! BPhOCin AY!

so here's the first installment . . . rough draft, very much preliminary . . .

secret

Eternal Chasm of Strength, I do not breathe but that I yield me to Divinity. Show me now, be seen, breathe a command, create a moment, signify and send forth Your Breath - She Your Servant, Your Command. My life, my joanna, abides . . .

This Book seems to start off beautifully, does it not?

This one verse yielded 29 pages of just one set of Greek-to-English dictionary definitions. These are definitions from one book! No wonder my friggin books cost $500 per semester! dayum!!!

but hey, it's a worthfrigginwhile investment! my ass has sorely been whipped this term, and yanna . . . i'm lovineveryminitofit.

time to get started on somethin else new . . .
hasta, peeps!
Rx

just wonderin

2008-03-04T22:06:00.000-08:00

if i'm still bein read
been so busy
damn blog's been all but dead
craziest damn thing
happened late one night
and i'm tryin to figger
what's wrong and what's right

i wanna write a bluez song
ain't got no smoke to bear
i wanna write a true song
all the wrong words in the air
i wanna write a love song
but i can't open my wine
i wanna write a blood song
ain't got no blood that ain't mine

ain't that crazy
craziest bluez u ever heard
ain't that crazy
bein shaken and not stirred
ain't that crazy
done lost my fuckin mind
ain't that crazy
can't even open my own wine

i wanna write a bluez song
ain't got no smoke to bear
i wanna write a true song
all the wrong words up in the air
i wanna write a love song
but i can't open my own wine
i wanna write a blood song
ain't got no blood that ain't mine

ain't got no blood that ain't mine
can't even open my own wine
no broken glass
no not this time

2008-01-18T22:50:00.000-08:00

Lost in LXTR

2008-01-15T15:52:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I've been here in Holyville for just over a week, and I've been getting lostlostlost drivin on the roads here. First because people in this part of PA drive like fuckin MANIACS! And I mean that in the nicest and most Christian way. But FUCK!

For instance, I'm on a stretch of road where 55 is the speed limit. I'm in the slow lane cuz . . . I get lost to easily to be in the fast lane most of the time. But I'm doin 60 (or 65) in the SLOW LANE. And doofball idiots are riding so far up my ass that when I fart in my car, they say pee-you in theirs. I tap my brakes. Softly. Then so hard that CGirl thinks she's gonna go slidin off the back seat into her water bowl. No luck. Assholes apparently like to ride the assholes of others -- asshole fetishites they are, after all. So I do the only thing I can do. Stop. Right there. So suddenly that they hit the horn only because it's the only thing they can do to keep their heads from doing it for them. I laugh my ass off. They give me the evil eye as they go around me. Teeheeeheeee . . . dumbasses.

Or how about on the highway, where the speed limit is 65 and I'm doin 75 in the FAST LANE. Ya think my ass is asshole free? Nada chance. I wish I was gettin more O outta people stickin theirselves up my ass like that, but as it stands -- or sits, as the case may be -- I have to be content with slowin all the way down to 55 and grinnin like I just got laid when they give me the evil eye as they go around me.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

SO, as a new denizen of Holyville, I've been gettin lost a lot. Even got lost tryin to get outta here to go get my kid and take him back to school.

Ok, side note -- that shit ain't NEVER happenin again. Love him dearly, which is why I'm gonna LOVINGLY stick his ass on a train and LOVINGLY wave at him as the train pulls bye-bye. IF I'm in town when he arrives/departs. Or IF he's in Holyville visiting when it's time to go back. Mama's too old for that, and Froggie ain't gettin no younger neither.

Anyway, I digress . . .

So I figure out today that my drivin ain't worth shit if I'm usin a map, but if I've got TBTs, I'm good to go. So I print out my first TBT, so I can hit Wally World. See, my FiyaGrrl done turned me on to kosher baloney and hot dogs. (See what you done did, FiyaGrrl?!)

Ennyway, so I print out Wally World TBTs, and lo and behold, I make it there and back in under six hours!!!! This is truly a day for rejoicin! Right? It's a 20-minute trip -- but LostGrrl here has been turnin it into six hours on the road, only the first three of which are actually fun. (Ask CGrrl, next time she gets to blog. She'll tell ya the REAL DEAL!)

So I'm thinkin Yippeee, right? No KoBo at Wally's, but I can do the TBT thing really really well! So I print out a TBT for Weis . . . darling little LXTR chain that seems to be a favorite of my fellow Holyville denizens. It's actually CLOSER than Wally's and one of them did have my kobo last week . . .

And two hours later . . .

LOL I took a detour.

It was a axident . . .

See . . . this is wha ha happen

K, see so Weis didn't have any kosher bologna, so I started on my way back. But then I saw a GIANT. And I thought, 'Hell yea! They'll have it!' Another round of disappointment, though . . . No kobo to be found . . . so I pulled out of the parking lot . . . and turned the wrong way. Not having expected to even SEE Giant, I didn't print out turn-by-turns from there . . . Sooooo . . .

I ended up driving all the way back to Weis before I figured out, 'Hey, I should be on 462 WEST, not EAST. So I drivedrivedrivedrive til I get to a safe spot to make a yoUie, drivedrivedrivedrivedrive back down 462 West, and then make the ten-minute trip home . . .

AND STILL NO FRIGGIN KOBO!

(((((AAARRRRRGGGHHH)))))

Ok, I feel better . . .

I'm safely back in Holyville. Maybe I'll wait til after our field trip to Phily before I hunt for KoBo again.

Ah well, I did get lots of KoDogs . . . they is YUM too. My FiyaGrrl knows how to feed me, just right. Now if I can just find more KoBo to keep my new habit going . . .

CGirl's Day

2008-01-11T09:46:00.001-08:00

Well, just so you all know, I'm pretty happy up here too. Mommy's in class for three hours a day, so I get the whole house to myself. I watch movies and listen to music, and I bark for about five minutes every morning after she leaves for class. Sometimes Mommy admonishes me to shush, but most times, she just takes it in stride that that's just part of me being . . . well, me.

So, I go for two or three walks a day, plus long drives. The long drives are mostly because Mommy gets lost when we're coming home from wherever she drives us to. The good news is that she actually likes getting lost -- but I've gotta tell ya, after about six hours of getting lostedness, I'm really ready to just get home and into some serious pee-and-nap time. Mommy can just stop in some gas station -- but me, I'm pretty picky about where I pee. It's gotta be near home, otherwise -- in the words of Morgan Freeman in Shawshank, "I can't squeeze a drop." 'Course, Mommy's pretty picky too, but I've got picky down to a science.

Speaking of home, though, here I am today, hangin out on Monk Walk.

I like Monk Walk. Mommy can grab a smoke and I can say hi to all the two-leggeds that come my way. That's one of the coolest changes so far. Before I moved here, I used to be scared of EVERYTHING and everybody. My tail would go immediately between my legs and I would just cower everytime I went out anywhere or anytime anybody came near me. Now, I just growl a little -- and, hey, if you know me then you know that my growl means nada -- but my tail just wags and wags until my whole body is doing the wag-me dance. I just wanna know EVERYBODY, sniff their hands -- but Mommy won't let me sniff their butts. She says it's impolite to two-leggeds cuz they don't like having their butts sniffed. Oh well, they'll adapt. She says that soon, I'll have many more four-leggeds here, so that'll be really cool. I like the kitties across the hall, but I don't think they're used to the C4s like I'm used to the F4s. I think that they think that all C4s wanna do is chase and scare the F4s, but that ain't so. Ah well, they'll adapt.

Anyway, I think Mommy needs to do some laundry and unpacking cuz there's stuff EVERYWHERE. She told me that we're getting a new bed tomorrow AND two used chairs and a coffee table next week. WOW! All new furniture stuffs for me to hang out on while Mommy is in class.

I think I like it here. The H2s are really friendly and patient, and I don't get so scared of their cars and trucks like I did in that big city I used to live in. I get to run around on grass a lot, and when Mommy says, "Go say hi," I really do wanna go say hi. I like wagging my tail when H2s approach, much more than walkin round with it between my legs, and EVERYBODY smells either like F4s or C4s -- which really makes it easy for me to want to say hi. PLUS, I like the small town life. Livin is easy and except for having to share the bed, I like hangin out with Mommy most of the day and all through the night.

Well, I'd better jump off here so Mommy can go do laundry.

Have a good weekend everybody -- and to all my C4s out there . . .

WOOF, Dude! Peace out!

2008-01-08T17:56:00.000-08:00

'Tis official . . . I am . . . a Seminarian. A Punk Preacher. A Mystic Minister.

Somehow, this seems a bit twisted . . . Rychus, yet . . .

Five books. One class. Three weeks. Five frickin books. Thick little fuckers too. Glad this is the short term and I get a break at the end of it. LoverGrrl, I dunno which of us is travelin to see whom but I've been feelin the urge to merge every second since our last mergickal moment . . . ain't never been so whipped in my life and I dunno if livin here in Holyville's done upped the ante, but before you came along it had been SO long since I'd touched . . . SO long . . . since . . . I'd wanted . . . I can't wait to give you me and have you . . . over and over again.

Hooray for Holyville, yea?

So, the new space still needs to get unpacked but ltlCgirl is havin the time of her life . . . so excited to be comin out o'her shell that she sacks out from the fatigue of finally bein a friendly four-legged and I just hafta shake ma heayud and laff my ass off at her. Til, of course, she decides that under-my-butt is the best place to keep her tired-from-runnin-EH-VA-REE-WHERE toodles warm at night. LtlShit, she is, but that's what I get for fallin in love with the ears that go poinkpoink when she's all happy and jumpin round like the Banshee she is.

LOVE bein in my own space. LOVE FUCKIN IT. My shit. My peace. My quiet. My noise. My newfound thug music love. (Yea, it's a fuckin hoot . . . go gangsta . . . keep poppin . . . rock witme let's git this bitch poppin . . . go gangsta . . . git rockin . . . like back when tha nigga was clockin . . . Fuckin Ay!

Tho lately, with the final projects from . . . well, here in Holyville, I'm guessin they're from UpThere . . . loomin on the horizon, it's been more Yanni than Gangsta -- I gotta figure out what I'm doin cuz three weeks ain't shit, knowhadeyemean?

Pretty up here in Holyville. Think I'm gonna love it for the next three years. My space. My shit. My life . . . and MyLoverGrrl . . . It's a fuckin hoot, ain't it just?

Where am I this eve?

2008-01-03T21:32:00.001-08:00

Hell, I dunno . . . somewhere suspended between passion and rage. Sometimes it feels as if I live within that suspension -- as if something waits to trigger my rage as soon as I feel an inkling of passion.

My Passion, she is my Light and Life, my Laughter and my Longing. Spending our first Yule/Christmas/Solstice in the warmth of her home, in her city and in her arms, . . . this was so much a loving learning time for us. To learn how to interweave passion and patience into our day-to-day life, balancing the Es and the Es within the braid that holds us together . . .

MyPassion, do you know how your loving me as you do arouses within me the desire to love you all the more? Do you know, PassionateOne, how my desire to love you all the more makes me long and ache for you, even moments after your truck pulls away and my plane leaves the air strip? LoverMine, I miss you . . . so very much. Selah.

The rage that awaited, anticipating my return from your arms . . . it is becoming, more and more, less than the nothing that it can only aspire to be. I think that is, perhaps, the problem -- that something that what was once actually something to me is quickly fading into less than nothing with every aggravation that it is responsible for bringing into my life. As in Merlin, when things become forgotten, they . . . cease . . . to . . . exist. They become angry, irrational, writhing and grabbing onto whatever shreds are left dangling in the wind.

I used to be that wraith. Happy New Year to the one who showed me that I'm better than that.

And Happy New Year to YOU, MyPassion, MyFiyaX2. This year is only the beginning of what I have in store for you, LoverGrrl . . . only the beginning . . .

It's all about the O

2007-12-14T16:01:00.000-08:00

Ever had one of those Os that was so intense that u felt like u coulda gave birth to it and named it BobbySue or some other such absurdity in the midst of singin 'Our God Is An Awesome God' and 'The Only Time' -- as in NIN -- and u felt like a three month old tryin to crawl but not even yet masterin the whole rolloveronyertummy trick?

FUCK!

Yea, literally.

So eye woke up this mornin with this slickwet fantasy in mah head and in case u want a hint, LoverGirl, here ya go: TS. Now, of course, only u n eye no what that means, so eye no that u no that just typin the tee n the ess -- oh, es -- churned things up just a bit 4 ltl RuBlu heeyah. C now whatcha made me go n do . . . now eye gotta go take care o'this b4 ix drops m'dang van off. U no, Fiya, that we still gotta christen her -- the van, eye mean -- rite n proper . . . whoowee FiyaX2n2Mo . . . betta make sho we not by no gas pumps, no whaddeyemean?

Mymymy . . . the things eye think about when eyem sposed ta be workin . . .

Leven mo days, My Fiya . . . jes leven mo . . .

Stay off the sidewalks, Kiddies!

2007-12-12T14:06:00.000-08:00

Rublu's done gone'n'got'er license!!!!!!

Oh and if yer one of the ones that's done pissed me off recently . . .

And then I woke up . . .

2007-11-20T10:37:00.000-08:00

My Braxtin,

I miss you, Baby . . . like the sand misses the rain, I've missed you this morning, over and over again.

I just wanted to tell you . . . that . . .
I miss your eyes
I miss your smile
I miss the way you move
I miss your voice coming from just in the next room
I miss your whisper, so close to my ear
I miss your arm around me, in the night and in the morn
I miss holding you close to me and feeling you hold me close to you
I miss watching you walk
I miss your hat on backward
I miss sitting directly across from you, deep in conversation
I miss seeing your whole face light up, when you smile and when you laugh
I miss seeing the depth of emotion in your eyes, when you speak or hear of sad things
I miss feeling the heat of the fire, when you become enflamed with rage . . . and desire
I miss touching your face, anytime and everywhere
I miss the way you smile at me, in those moments when only I can see
I miss feeling you watching me . . . and hearing the change in your breathing when you realize that I'm only acting as if I don't know
I miss feeling you watching me . . . and hearing the change in your breathing when you know that I know just what you're feeling as I watch you, watching me

But mostly . . .

I miss being able to see your love for me reflected in your eyes when you're looking deep into my soul, and you're saying, "I love you. I fuckin LOVE YOU."

You are my world, My Sweet Lover . . . you are the delight in my heart, the churning my soul, and the light in my eyes. I miss everylittlething about you . . . and I can't wait until I can feel you next to me once again.

Your Angel

2007-11-19T22:25:00.000-08:00

When She Puts Me To Bed

2007-11-19T22:07:00.000-08:00

I am troubled
Immeasurably
By your eyes
I am struck
By the feather
of your soft
Reply
The sound of glass
Speaks quick
Disdain
And conceals
What your eyes fight
To explain

~jim morrison

2007-11-19T22:05:00.000-08:00

beloved,
this is what it is
to be beloved

when words prove inadequate
held against
a touch of your lips
the softness in your eyes
the sweetness of your belly
breathing in time
with me

lovedbe,
this is what it is
to be lovedbe

when the drum of your heart racing
drowns out all but the music
that captures in my heart
the way you look at me
as if i am fine art

you touch me as if i were beautiful glass
that you are afraid you might shatter
if you
touch me too much

you arouse in me things that i
had long since forgotten
or never knew could
exist
out here in reality

you
maketh me to lie down
in green pastures
no
that is God
showing up once again
within a beloved
lovedbe

i have loved
but i can not be
anything but loved
when i feel you watchin me

i have loved
but i can not be
anything but loved
when i feel you wantin me

i have loved
but i can not be
anything but loved
when your smile caresses me

i have loved
but i can not be
anything but loved
when you reach out wantin me

i have loved
but i can not be
anything but loved
when i am your
lovedbe

2007-11-12T17:56:00.000-08:00

2007-11-11T19:50:00.000-08:00

Fannin the flames, I become lightheaded from the heat I've helped
create. Fire tender, I love the sound of the rain & the wind in the
trees . . . Selah

2007-11-11T19:25:00.000-08:00

Sittin here, watchin these flames, I think of the fire that exists within each of us, and the fire that we together create. Why is it
that you cannot see my fire? Are there other things of me that i can see,
but that you cannot? Believing is seeing . . . As with God, one must
believe first. Sight does not precede faith. Sight follows faith.

2007-11-07T15:55:00.000-08:00

Looking Into My Braxtin's Eyes

Love Song

2007-11-02T21:08:00.000-07:00

before i read your words to me
there is somethin i must say
about this feelin churnin
that i can't ignore away

baby, you are my heart and
you're in my soul, my life is you
more love i've felt in our
short time, to me that just proves

that this is love, this is real
no hesitation and no doubt
but sometime i gaze and wonder
will you love all that i'm about

we've talked about our religions
our spirits and our beliefs
and we've spoken briefly of our pasts
our joys, our pains and grief

and you've walked with me through a night
when i felt my heart breakin from within
stayed with me til i could fall asleep
and shared the sunrises over and again

and i'm not complicated but i can't help
thinkin to my self
are we strong enough to stand together through
all 23 levels of hell

you've never fallen asleep when i
couldn't close my eyes
or watched me try to not crumble
when a beloved heart has died
and i've never awakened next to you
and made your coffee in the morn
we've never watched together
the moment a new life is born
so many stories there are, in between
the heaven and hell in my mind
i have had times of cruel intent
had them, long before i was kind
and i've told my share of lies and half-truths
and can never forget how many there were
the dark and the light within are unequal
will your tender loving heart, My Love
will it be able to endure

i've had the hard breakdowns and i have been thin-skinned
the longer and deeper i love someone, the harder life has been
i've felt alienated and i've pushed my loved ones away
i've held back my tears and my fears, and then begged them all to stay
my fear makes me shallow and i edit less of what i say
i rarely mean to hurt anyone, but when i do the pain don't go away
i talk a good game and i
believe in every word
but when it comes to the livin
it's like i've never even heard
i pray and i curse and i mean it when i damn
i never want to try perfection, but i'll do the best i can
and i have high expectations, of honor and loyal respect
and i behave like a son-of-a-bitch
when i feel a longterm neglect
and i get angry sometimes
enough to curse both day and night
and the God who married my parents
and gave me this Third-Eye Sight

i read and hear your words of love
and they fill me til i brim
and overflow with love and sorrow
for the depths you're steppin in

i could write my stories down for you
and stay up through many days and nights
but they are nothing and everything
to do with where i find my light

and you've walked with me through a night
when i felt my heart breakin from within
stayed with me til i could fall asleep
and shared the sunrises over and again

and i'm not complicated but i can't help
thinkin to my self
are we strong enough to stand together through
all 23 levels of hell

you've never fallen asleep when i
couldn't close my eyes
or watched me try to not crumble
when a beloved heart has died
and i've never awakened next to you
and made your coffee in the morn
we've never watched together
the moment a new life is born
so many stories there are, in between
the heaven and hell in my mind
i have had times of cruel intent
had them, long before i was kind
and i've told my share of lies and half-truths
and can never forget how many there were
the dark and the light within are unequal
will your tender loving heart, My Love
will it be able to endure

churning

2007-10-25T16:53:00.001-07:00

wind wisps softly
circular motions, circumventing time
turning
churning
without reason, without rhyme
do you feel it, my lover

i felt you awaken, just now
she came into my room
above me, settling softly
just below my feet
and she whispered
gently
like your breath, your body moves
as you drift into sleep
she watches you
she watches me
until the time
when we two shall meet
always churning

at once, the speed of sound
bursts forth
revealing her eye
in the midst of our storm
nothing lost, nothing broken
only tossed, words verboten
moaning shrieks and gutteral wails
is that you, my love
within the veil

it is she
churning
making way for the
new life
of our ancient love
i must have loved you before
chants the songstress
of your love and mine
how could she, but know,
to sing of love, a song divine
that has crawled through the deserts
and crossed oceans of time
churning
always churning

circular, like the hips
of two lovers moving as one
our song, our today
my love, she's barely begun
like you, i wonder deep within me
wherefore art this churning
that sent your love to me
wherefore art this churning
that sets our hearts free

churning, my lover
always
she is churning

For Sister E

2007-10-23T13:26:00.000-07:00

So I'm on the bus after my shrink appointment, and there's these two guys -- one in the seat in front of me, and the other in the seat behind mine. So, Front Guy asks what time I have, I pull out my cell, and tell him that it's around 9 after 12. So Other Guy asks what time I said, so I repeated it. Other Guy then proceeds to hit on me . . .

'I was wantin to talk to you when you first got on, but didn't know how to pull that off'
Looks like you figured it out.
'Is that all your hair'
It is now.
'I'm 45. How old are you?'
39.
'You got your back to me. How can I talk to your back?'
Sucks for you.

Oh, and the kicker:
'I just got off work. I didn't take no bath but I took one last night and just washed up today'

Ok, first off, EW!
At this point, I'm tired of trying to be nice about tellin him to fuck off. So I said,
'Look, dude, that's TMI. I don't need to know that about you.'

Does he quit?

'I like to bowl. Do you like to bowl?'
No.
'No? I could teach you'
Thanks. I'll pass.
'Like to ride horses?'
No.
'Do you drink?'
No.
'You smoke?'
No.

After getting all NOs, then he goes for the jugular:
'Well what DO you like to do? You must like to do SOMETHIN'

So I turn around and look at him . . .
Shades on, serious look . . .
Low, deadpan voice:

'I go to church and I fuck my girlfriend. THAT'S what I like to do.'

Turned back around. Front Guy is laughin his ass off!!!!!

Takes Other Guy a minute, then he says, 'Your GIRLfriend?'

Not turning around, 'Yes. My GIRLfriend.'

You'd think he'd quit there . . .

'You think God is gonna be okay with that?'

'Look, dude, God made me, and God made my girlfriend, and I can ASSURE you that He made NO mistakes'

'Well you show me in the Bible'

'Dude, I ain't gotta show you SHIT!'

'Well I'm just sayin that I ain't never read in there . . .'

'Well maybe cuz it's not there for YOU to read'

Finally he got off the bus.

Front Dude was still laughin his ass off.

Cheers!

Braxtin

2007-10-19T19:44:00.000-07:00

Tie my wrists above my head
Bind my ankles to our bed
Make me so hot, make me wet
Give me somethin I'll not forget
Fuck me til the brink of dawn
Lover, please me, drive me on
Make me sing, cry out your name
Ride with me upon our waves
Make me feel you deep within
There is no ending, begin again
Rock me, Lover, til I am spent
O Love, your love is heaven-sent
In the night, I cum for you
I just can't stop til night is through
In the morn, unbind me, free
I give you all I am in me
I give you all I am in me
My Lover, my Love, my Ecstasy . . .

Something . . . More

2007-10-11T15:21:00.001-07:00

The dissolutionment paper signed, the disillusionment is over.

I woke up this morning, single for the first time in I'm not sure how long. Serial monogamist, I've been. The last five years, though, have been pretty wow. The kid doesn't know yet. Gonna try to make a trip at Thanksgiving to see him, to tell him in person. Just me, him, hangin out. Not the sorta thing you wanna discuss over the phone. He won't be surprised, though. Dunno whether to laugh about that or feel sad. Think I'll just be grateful for his resilliance.

Got an interview slot at the Seminary in a few weeks. I'm so looking forward to having my own space, not being caught up in somebody else's headshit all the time. So overwhelming it was, trying to be the anchor, the foundation, all the while my own mind crumbled around me. But it's not so bad, the crumbling. When the concrete cracks, that pain can hurt like a motherfucker . . .

(well, actually motherfuckers don't hurt if they know what they're doing, but I digress . . .)

Ahem . . .

The concrete cracking hurts like a bitch. Opening new wounds, reopening old ones, scar tissue flashing in the new light of day. And the dust feels like fresh salt on a papercut. But it's funny because the more alone I felt, the faster I healed. The more depended-on I felt, the stronger I got. When I knew that I was the only emotionally stable person in my relationship, and all I could do was hang on until the phone rang, God showed up -- in a friend, in some damned telemarketer, in my kid . . . sometimes in the person I got married to. Even the most emotionally immature person can be a ray of light, under the right circumstances.

So, I have no regrets. People keep asking if I'm okay, and get so surprised when I giggle. But what else am I supposed to do. I gave this relationship everything I had. I held back when s/he wasn't strong enough to hold my shit and I opened my arms to hold all the shit s/he dumped on me and asked me to help resolve. I learned to understand both of our shits, even though s/he never sought to understand mine. I saw the warning signs and I communicated every single one of them, and every single warning fell on deaf ears, until it was almost too late. And now it is, it is too late. S/he did the best s/he could, given what s/he was given.

But to let it end there is a copout, because just because all I was given was rape for sex, manipulation for love, and cowardice for power, that doesn't mean that when the light of day dawns, I'm not to be responsible enough to own what I've done and trade what I've been given for what will serve me better. When I come face to face with knowing what ills I have done to those closest to me, I don't get to expound on the virtues of my intentions. I don't get to manipulate them into feeling like it's wrong for them to want what they want, to turn their wanting something other than what I want into some twisted version of you-only-want-that-because-you-don't-want-me. And FUCK! If I don't get to do that, then why should anybody else get to do that to me? Not that I want to, because I feel like pure dee shit inside when I've even THOUGHT of saying "You only want to hang out with so-and-so because you don't want me around", or some other similar manipulatory statement. That was in my toolbox, too. I have a mother who used to say that the only reason I wanted to hang out with my dad was because I loved him more than her. That's what I was given. I did the best I could with that. But that never worked. So I had to find something else to use, something that wouldn't cause harm when employed, cuz when what you employ does damage, the shit don't just get on your shit-ee. It's gets on the shit-er, just the same.

You can do the best you can with what you're given. But what about when you get something more? Something less harmful and better feeling? What if you were given rape, but then given lovesex? Do you still use the rape? Or do you throw away the rape and employ the lovesex instead? And what about manipulation? What if you were given manipulation, and you did your best with manipulation, but then you got lovefreedom? Would you keep using the manipulation? Or would you give the lovefreedom, freely, with love? And what of cowardice? What if you were given running-and-hiding as the way to solve the shit you created for yourself and for others, but then somebody put an ounce of real lovepower in your toolbox and showed you the proper way to use it? Would you still use run-and-hide? Or would throw away the run-and-hide and pick up lovepower and use it the way you're supposed to?

But then, those are conscious choices, choices that can only be made if one decides to keep one's self aware of the choices -- and the benefits and pitfalls of each. We do the best we can with what we are given. But then, what happens -- what do we do -- when we get given something better, something . . . more?

I did the best I could with this relationship. Now, I'm ready for something better. Now I'm ready for Something . . . More.

sad

2007-10-02T12:59:00.000-07:00

butt true

www.getbehindjesus.net

not at all holy . . . butt very entertaining

DO click on the miracle box

Amazing Morning

2007-09-26T08:45:00.000-07:00

I just had the most amazing hour. One of my coworkers' great
grandchildren was just in the office. Ok get this . . .

Kyrie eleison means God have mercy -- Kyrie, meaning God

This kid's name is Kyree

Kyree has Down's Syndrome. But he is just the most amazing, curious,
intelligent two-year-old you'd ever want to meet. He's learning to talk
through a trache, and he's just into EVERYTHING. LOL He wanted to see
my cell phone -- then he took off with it and I had to pick him up and
carry him back into the office to get it back. LOL

I've never seen a kid with DS who is as active and curious as Kyree.
I mean, really, if you watch him from behind, you'd never know he was
any different from any other two-year-old. Only a few of his facial
features give it away. And he's just as mischevious and cute -- and he
knows he's cute LOL.

Ya know, all the crap just melts away . . .

2007-09-24T17:17:00.000-07:00

one more moment of stupid
that's what i sometimes think that i want
but would u want 2 stay there, asks the froggie in the window

well, today, i got to see what one more moment of stupid looks like

it ain't pretty

one more moment of stupid means
blaming others for your mistakes
accusing others of the crimes that you make
not forgiving others because you can't forgive yourself
operating asleep, thinking you're operating with stealth
forgetting what you say, what you want, what you do
and looking in the mirror, but never seeing you
giving much of nothing, asking everything in return
lighting your life on fire, yet never feeling it burn
keeping all your secrets, from everyone but you
never knowing where you're going and never knowing who
walking with a cloudy mind and with a hand forever unsteady
packing up the house and kids and bags, yet never being quite ready
hoarding all the stuff you can and trying to pay the least
wondering why what you think you want seems just beyond your reach
trying to jump, trying to grab, holding on to thin air
thinking you know what matters, yet never deep enough to care
wanting that bigger, better, faster, prettier painted doll
thinking you're backed into a corner while you bang your head against the wall
talking in circles, moving in squares
living your life without being there
never awake, never aware
too frightened to run
from that which just stares
and when it all tumbles down
you look all around
and gaze in wide wonder
why you can't hear a sound

one more moment of stupid

i think i'll pass

half a week ago

2007-09-23T21:16:00.000-07:00

i'm not so okay today

this morning started with a panic attack at 6am, followed by uncontrollable shaking until about 730. that's why i was up. playing tetris on my cellphone until i could manage a little better.

up in my room, i cried heavy and long. i went into what used to be our bedroom and angrily told our dreamcatchers that maybe if they caught good dreams and let the bad ones go, there'd be more happy endings.

this is very hard. and i will be fine. i am not angry with you. i am just not really able to let you be there for me. and i'm not sure how much more i can comfort you or explain why i understand or agree that maybe this is healthiest or even talk much or let you do anything for me or even ask any more questions. there aren't any answers, anyway -- at least not yet -- for either of us. i'm sure this is as confusing for you as it is for me, or at least some aspects are.

getting divorced really sucks, as much for you as for me, i am sure. we've both put our hearts and souls into this marriage, but we've also damaged and scared one another in the process. for all the love that we feel for each other, love won't fix this. maybe time will, and it looks like the time that might heal us will be best spent with us untethered by our wedding bands.

i want for you, the same things that you want for me: wholeness, healing, love, friendship, happiness, comfort, peace, a good life, a fulfilling life, a life full of joy with the ones you love and care for the most.

this morning was hard. and there are probably more hard mornings to come, before they start to get easier, for each of us, in our own time. some will be easy. others, not so much.

i do love you, ________. and it is that love that makes it possible for me to let you go. our forever lasted five years. maybe someday, we'll have a longer forever. but if not together, then certainly a happy forever, wherever our roads may take us.

i have to get ready for work. i won't be home until late.

take care and have a good day.
me

ps thank you for worrying about me yesterday. i'm sorry you were worried, but i know that it means a lot that we both still care about each other. it means a lot to me, too.

From Froggie's Bag O Trix

2007-09-09T20:15:00.000-07:00

You Are 67% Strange!

Based on your score, it seems you do have a healthy dose of strangeness. You aren't THAT far out, but you are somewhat bizarre. Congratulations on being different and having some quirks. It makes you an interesting person!

How Strange Are You?
Quizzes for MySpace

Which of the 7 Deadly Sins are you? Your Result: Greed What it is: Greed is the desire for material wealth or gain, ignoring the realm of the spiritual. It is also called Avarice or Covetousness. Why you do it: You live in possibly the most pampered, consumerist society since the Roman Empire. Your punishment in Hell will be: You'll be boiled alive in oil. Associated symbols & suchlike: Greed is linked with the frog and the color yellow.
Pride
Envy
Sloth
Gluttony
Anger
Lust
http://www.gotoquiz.com/which_of_the_7_deadly_sins_are_you_1">Which of the 7 Deadly Sins are you?

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Social Nerd You're interested in things such as politics, psychology, child care, and peace. I wouldn't go so far as to call you a hippie, but some of you may be tree-huggers. You're the type of people who are interested in bettering the world. You're possible the least nerdy of them all; unless you participate in other activies that paled your nerdiness compared to your involvement in social activities. Whatever the case, we could still use more of you around. ^_^
Drama Nerd
Literature Nerd
Musician
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Artistic Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Anime Nerd
http://www.gotoquiz.com/what_be_your_nerd_type">What Be Your Nerd Type? http://www.gotoquiz.com/">Quizzes for MySpace

Ok enuff about me . . . let's talk about . . . umm . . . oh yea, this is MY bbl

You Make Me Feel Like Dancin!

2007-09-09T18:06:00.001-07:00

Heard this on the radio just now . . . me and bestbud were buttdancin in the van . . . Sweet fun

Darling you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?
If you say that you are mine
I'll be here 'til the end of time
So you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

It's always tease, tease, tease
You're happy when I'm on my knees
One day is fine the next is black
So if you want me off your back
Well come on and let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

Should I stay or should I go now?
Should I stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
An' if I stay it will be double
So come on and let me know...

This indecision's bugging me
(Indecisión me molesta)
If you don't want me, set me free
(Si no me quieres, líbrame)
Exactly who'm I'm supposed to be
(Dígame qué tengo ser)
Don't you know which clothes even fit me?
(¿Sabes que ropa me queda?)
Come on and let me know
(Venga, que me tienes que decir)
Should I cool it or should I blow?
(¿Me debo ir o quedarme?)

Should I stay or should I go now?
(¿Yo me enfrío o lo soplo?)
Should I stay or should I go now?
(¿Yo me enfrío o lo soplo?)
If I go there will be trouble
(Si me voy va ver peligro)
And if I stay it will be double
(Si me quedo es doble)
So you gotta let me know
(Me tienes que decir)
Should I cool it or should I blow?
(¿Me debo ir o quedarme?)
Should I stay or should I go now?
(¿Yo me enfrío o lo soplo?)
If I go there will be trouble
(Si me voy - va ver peligro)
And if I stay it will be double
(Si me quedo es doble)
So you gotta let me know

Ciao
(Me tienes que decir)
Should I stay or should I go?

daybreak

2007-09-01T02:29:00.000-07:00

how do i say this without comin off all mean and shit

here goes . . .

being with me, in *any* kind of relationship, is a lot of fucking work. it is harder to be my lover than it is to be my mother.

fuck in ay

and i fuckin like that about me

shit

there are boundaries that if crossed, take a fuckin lifetime to cross back over again

if ever

i have no idea how long it'll take
so few of my boundaries ever get crossed, it's just hard to say

but

here's what i know about me

i know that i am hard as fuck to get to know
but i have relatively few simple rules
don't lie
don't steal
don't fuck with my kid, my lover, or my mother
or anybody i call anything other than 'hey you'
that's it

oh, and don't cross a boundary that i've told you to not cross
and if you do
don't expect to be able to cross back over just cuz you're sorry or you forgot or whatever
cuz you're gonna be sorry for a long fuckin time
that's just the reality

i'll be mad for awhile
but i'll be hurt for even longer
cuz i toldya the boundary
and i politely asked ya to not cross it

and if you forget
and you light the match
you're gonna get burned
no matter what your intentions were

i'm not sayin that to be mean
i'm just sayin that that's how i am
and i like me this way
it ain't an anger issue
it's a boundary issue

yea, it's kinda like a mine trip wire
i'll tell ya it's there
but if you forget, and you trip the damned thing
no matter how accidentally it was . . .

baby go boom
sometimes big boom
sometimes little boom
but baby go boom

yea, your intentions will make a difference
you'll just get fucked up
instead of just fucked
but you will get fucked
cuz if your accidental nature fucks me up, i cain't help it if you get fucked up same as me
i'll try to mitigate it as best as i can
but if i tell you that you done fucked up, and you cain't say sorry without explainin your intentions and shit . . .
well, it's kinda like pickin at a scab -- shit's gonna hurt til you learn to not pick at it and just give it what it needs to heal right

and that makes any relationship with me a lot of fuckin work

it seems like to some people that bein my friend -- my best friend, as it were -- is an easy thang
but just ask my best friend
she'll tellya, that shit ain't easy
easier'n bein my lover or my mother
maybe
but not really

i ain't mean
or even sociopathic
i'm just a lot of fuckin work
but if you want me to call you anything other than 'hey you'
you should know up front
it's gonna be a lot of work
i'm a lot of work
but only cuz
i'm fuckin worth it

i guess maybe i've always known this
but i've never felt like i deserved to really *own* this

welcome to me
it ain't easy
but at least it's never boring

Introducing . . .

2007-08-11T07:40:00.001-07:00

Tay Zonday! LOL This kid is a vacation all by himself

2007-08-09T23:26:00.000-07:00

TellTale

Once

Wabbit The Wise

Within

2007-08-09T23:17:00.000-07:00

Only Ducks In A Row

Loner Duck

Dozey Duck

Red Duck

2007-08-09T23:10:00.000-07:00

Gim Mi

Happy Birthday To Me!

Nothin like havin your lover arrange for a whole Friday night restaurant crowd singin the b-day song on yer b-day! Night to remember . . .

Pink In The Middle

2007-08-09T23:04:00.000-07:00

The Spring

She's Pink All Over

Qwik-E Mart!

2007-07-20T11:28:00.000-07:00

Ru's Gone Wild!

Got suck?

Fucked Up Freddie

2007-07-10T22:55:00.000-07:00

And for all you secret lovers out there . . .

2007-06-15T13:39:00.000-07:00

doncha luv it?

i don't remember who sent it to me, but i'm eternally grateful everytime i watch it
cheerio!

sent to me by a good friend

2007-06-07T08:05:00.001-07:00

We are what we think.
All that we are, arises with our thoughts.
With our thoughts we make the world.

Speak or act with a pure mind
And happiness will follow you
As your shadow, unshakeable.

How can a troubled mind understand the way?
Your worst enemy cannot harm you
as much as your own thoughts unguarded.

But once mastered,
No one can help you as much,
Not even your father or your mother.

Buddha (from the Dhammapada, translated by Thomas Byron)

2007-06-05T13:24:00.001-07:00

2007-06-04T21:48:00.000-07:00

Produced by Third Mind

2007-06-04T20:48:00.001-07:00

never thought i'd like grillin as much as i do. musta paid more attention to my dad than even i realized cuz cookin over burnin wood comes about as natural to me as breathin and walkin -- which i learned to do FIRST, mind you, or so says my momma who outta know. anyway, fastforad damn near two score and in our back yard, we got this brickoven barbie pit -- no dead barbies in the house -- and i like it and all, and Handsome works just perfectly on it, they know each other like brothers, noshitthesherlock. but it's a long trek and right on the other side of the fence sit our new, intrusive neighbors -- tho it's not their fault they're intrusive, damn builders put the backs of their rowhouses danm near flush up against my back fence. jabberin all in their hispy slang. makes me jealus i don't know more, yno?

soz one day a coupla weeks ago, we wuz in giant and wantin to buy a smaller grill for up on the back porch. well first we went to maxway, but their bullshit costed too much. so we headed over t'the giant where they had bullshitgrills for about ten bucks cheaper. good deal! and we been eatin woodcooked food about three/four times a week now, nonstop. pure, natural -- or as pure and natural as one can get in armpit, that is -- wood grillin. we got so much protein that when we get buff, we gon'be leanbuff. i already lost 40lbs and gettin cruised almost everywhere i go now. i got cruised in CHURCH on sunday. noshitsherlock. cute lil thang, too. sheeit! i never got cruised before, least not so's i'd know it. but these women are . . . women . . . whhhhhhhow

it's nice. but, not even.

so we get this lil doodad home and Honey sets it up and voila! we have a backporch grill. our first experience taught us what to do and how to not do what we should not do. she's been mine ever since.

i LOVE grillin out for Honey. it's one thing that i can do for him that isn't because of something else. i do it because i want to -- not because he's sick or in pain or being an ass or gettin on my nerves or pissin me off or hurtin my feelins or because he asked me to or . . . any of that stuff. there is no, 'i love doing this for you because . . . ' cuz there is no because. it is what it is, and it is very good.

so we hit the grocery about every week and we buy these good-sized roasts on sale and we bring them home and i fire up the barbie and slice'm down into steaks -- another great idea from Honey -- and we season'em and let'em cook over wood from our back yard or sammy's across the way.

speakin of which, wifey is preggers. seven months now. she's so gorgeous. i almost feel like early helena. so, i've gotta try to be a little tamer cuz she's gonna be fierce over this baby and i wanna see this kid as often as possible.

kid of mine is excellent. he told me, on the ride home, that he wants to be married, before he's thirty, to the man of his dreams and he wants to adopt a single baby girl because that's all he can deal with. of course, he wants his best friend to give him away because after all, he says, 'the hag gives the fag away'. k. i did not know that. if that is what he would have, then so shall it be.

he knows that my standards are high. don't be bringin no guttertrash home and actin like you wanna marry him. do, and it'll be the last time you see that thing, ever. and he knows his momma is crazy -- that she could kill somebody, bury'm in the back yard, and never spend a moment in jail because of it. she's crazy. and she's got the papers to prove it. lock me up and medicate me? and that's a bad thing because . . . lock me up in a population of hardtime dykes? and leave me unmedicated? ah . . . such are what sweet dreams are made of

sweet dreams are made of these
who am i to disagree
i've travelled the world and the 7Cs
everybody's lookin for somethin

SOME of them want to use u
SOME of them want to be used by u
SOME of them want to abuse u
SOME of them want to be abused

well
night beckons
so does Honey
ta

2007-05-31T00:05:00.000-07:00

i was thinkin in my mind tonight about that time you showed up at pride for me -- my first pride, actually. i was wishin that i'd run across that road and hugged you and told you that i loved you for comin there cuz i knew you were there for me. i dunno if you had other reasons. i just know that i believed that i was one of'em. it might not've changed anything but at least you'da known how nice that felt.

sometimes i wish that you and yourn could come up and hang out with me and mine and sit on the mall and mback porch and talk shit about the shit in the summertime moonlight. anyplace with a prick at one end and a buncha pussies at the other deserves such an honor, as i discovered with my best friend a coupla months ago. hell, we got the space. y'all c'mon. just call first. that way i can pick up some cherries and whatever 'lectrana and the boy like.

anyway, no wonder u wuz in my head tonite. glad i got upta see what it wuz.

peace, my brutha

2007-05-30T23:49:00.000-07:00

you're in my head tonight

hope you're ok

WAIT! FUCK!!!!!

2007-05-16T06:29:00.000-07:00

This is sad news . . . BUT now I REALLY want to be a fly on the wall when St Pete opens those gates and Falwell comes face to face with Yolanda Denise King!

Can we say, "Ouch! Ouch!"
"OuchOuchOuch!"

DAMN!!! An ass in the hole really IS worth two snorts o'rush!

My heart is truly sad

2007-05-16T06:15:00.000-07:00

Yolanda Denise King has died.

Wonder if she was *family*.

God, I had to pray for his family too.
Sometimes it really SUCKS being a Christian.

cue taps

2007-05-15T10:42:00.000-07:00

Television evangelist Falwell dies at 73

Too early to hope that God shows up as a big, black drag queen when St Pete opens the gates?

stspreservusandblessallthelilpygmychirrenlivininthetundra ayhallelujahmayun

noshitsherlock, or sage and smoke parts i, ii, & iii

2007-05-14T08:37:00.000-07:00

my best friend builds spaceships out of incense sticks.

she has this incense burner . . . this tiny, pinkie-tall base-and-cover doohickey. so she puts the stuff in, sets it aflame, and the cover has these holes all around it. so she lights about three, four sticks and sticks them in, end-first, into the little eyelet holes, and i swear . . . well, i can't swear 'cause it's against my religion, but noshitsherlock, she picks it up and the star trek music -- the old one, of course -- and i start singin this cheesy rendition of the cheesy first-star-trek music, an alla sudden we're talkin' about men in black and weird shit-o-meter shit.

it's the funniest damn thing.

but it really does look like a spaceship. noshitsherlock.

nu stuff: all images, (c) 2007, ruachx, ltd.

2007-04-30T13:37:00.000-07:00

"Neon Pink in Sepia"

"Night Sky"

"View From Below"

"Sunspot"

"Beautiful Center"

Lest ye think there is no God

2007-04-29T20:48:00.000-07:00

sometimes, i learn very valuable stuff on oprah

2007-04-26T23:10:00.001-07:00

"Do you know why African-Americans have high blood pressure?" Dr. Oz asks Oprah.

"The reason why African-Americans have higher blood pressure, Dr. Oz, is because during the Middle Passage [when Africans were taken as slaves to America], the African-Americans who survived were those who could hold more salt into their body," Oprah says. "And those who didn't survive were the ones who couldn't hold more salt into their body."

2007-04-21T07:54:00.001-07:00

Countdown to the first day of Theology Class

Countdown to Somebody's Big Something Happening Somewhere

2007-04-21T07:36:00.000-07:00

Granny git yer snubnose

dos pesos a bonehead baldwin

2007-04-21T05:34:00.000-07:00

So, I'm signing Baldwin's guestbook, sounding off on what an insufferable and continuously spinning-on-stupid prig it takes to leave his kid such a fucked up voicemail message cuz this is America and sounding off against celebrity pricks is still legal in this country. All of a sudden, one B K Morrison decides that it's his duty to correct my errant ways. Although my message wasn't to him, but to Bonehead Baldwin, B K -- short for Brain Kill? -- posted a message to those females who sounded off against "AB" -- Asshole, Big -- that said that we should all go "back to [our] Vagina Monlogues". It even named me personally! So, being the civic-minded person I am, I advised old B K to do us all a favor and exit the gene pool since he and Bonehead are the poster children for who should NOT raise children.

Brain Kill then sent me the following email, quoted here in its entirety:

You backbiting little coward..

Get out of the gene pool? I take care of and have raised my two daughters and take good care of my mother, grandmother and my common law spouse. All of them are WOMEN who love me dearly and understand the ups and downs of parenting after a messy, shitty divorce. I understand them all too well, and I have done well by my kids in SPITE of their mother's efforts to ruin my life and my relationships. How about YOU get out of the gene pool, being so callous, thoughtless and ignorant with your little attacks...and I call you a coward because unlike you, I am not afraid to post my real name. Now get back to your Oprah reruns and stop mucking about in other people's affairs..you do realize that voice mail was released to stir up the know nothings of the world such as yourself? You have been played like a violin, though a terribly out of tune one.

Good day.

See how It's being?

So if It calls me names, I guess I could do the adult thing and ignore it. Right? Right. Let's remember who we're talking about here.

Ten minutes later, It got this response -- quoted here in its entirety, of course:

Wow! You actually wrote me a personal email so that you could extol yourself on all of your virtues. It's a good thing that somebody loves you, else you'd have no one but yourself to sing all your praises to.

How dare I? You arrogant little prick! Bet you've got a little prick, too, since such a rant as yours is indicative -- no pun intended -- of men with little pricks using big, bad, scary words. But I digress . . .

How dare I? It was YOU who started the backbiting, you shamelessly little, little man. YOU told me and another poster to go back to our vagina monologues. What were we supposed to do, just sit by and let you get away with your insulting comments? No wonder you support Bonehead Baldwin. You think you can say what you want and nobody will challenge you or put you in your place. Well, guess what, Darlin'? I'm here and ready for you. Was this the best you've got? Bring it on, you selfish little cowardly bastard! Give me a reason to whip your snarly little prick ass.

Sometimes, Pink can be in an ugly mood.

But, that was an hour ago . . . wonder how this'll turn out.

2007-04-18T21:46:00.000-07:00

What if I woke up Mok . . . creepy . . .

coming soon, to a realtor near you . . .

2007-03-10T00:03:00.000-08:00

see kids, this is what's known as using your powers for good.
i think.

hbday nic

2007-02-19T09:19:00.000-08:00

"I know the thoughts of a philosopher do not depend on the judgment of the many, yet when I considered how absurd my doctrine would appear, I long hesitated whether I should publish my book."

Nicolaus Copernicus

2007-02-14T21:43:00.000-08:00

All Settled

I've settled a lot in my lifetime. It's a peculiar thing for me to own that, but I have; so I do. At the times, I never thought I'd ever settled, or ever would settle, in my lifetime. Heh. Good luck with that.

I have to try to consider those times to've been learning opportunites, probably because Lesson Learned is quite a bit more palatable than is Wasted Time. I don't ever want to feel as if I've wasted my time. That's always my fear. The times I spent relationshipping between the late nineties, when I decided to stop settling, and 2002 still contained various forms of settling. That gets a little haunting sometimes -- like those moments when, as Meatloaf sang, "objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are". Yea, that kinda haunting.

Anyway, I have to say that I'm glad I settled when I did, and I'm glad I stopped settling relatively soon after I'd said I would. I definitely learned more about the human condition. And I think the human condition sucks, by the way.

But seriously, the settling I did was like my Honey describes -- the "at least I know the rules to this hell" variety. The stuff I put up with . . . there is one in particular. She was a deaf Jewish vegetarian lesbisexual single parent. But I fell in love with her daughter. Oh, she was my sweetheart . . . I could deny that child nothing, although I did make sure that she was respectful and courteous and thoughtful. I remember this one day, she was in kindergarten, and we'd walked her to her bus stop. There was a new kid there, and so she introduced herself, then her mother, then me, her mother's girlfriend. I was so gone . . . hook, line, and sinker. LOL And I put up with so much shit from Ms DJVLBSP! Fuck! LOL Oh my God, the changes . . . Her ex-husband was still in the picture as the non-custodial parent who still wanted her back, but then decided that he had a crush on me as well, and just couldn't understand why his ex-wife was with me instead of him. He also didn't get why Little A-Bell (my nickname for her) stopped wanting to stay with him for the weekend whenever I was around. So I would sit in the car . . . and wait. And then I'd hear her scream at the top of her lungs and no-body or no-thing could keep me from haulin' ass in there to get to her and comfort her. Every other week, it was the same thing. And her mom and I didn't even live together! I'd put Little A-Bell to bed at night, we'd say her prayers together, I'd make her clean her room, help her with her homework, play with her on the McDonald's playground . . . I'd take off work to sit in the floor and color and draw butterflies with her . . . I met her teachers, went to her Kindergarten graduation, felt like a putz when I couldn't make her Thanksgiving thing at school . . . Heart and soul, hooklineandsinker, that was me.

So I put up with Ms DJVLBSP's ex and his exasperatedly pissed off looks when I'd move him out of my way so I could figure out what the hell made Little A-Bell scream like she did. I tried to be fair. On his weekends, I did get her to spend one night, but I'd be damned if she was gonna have to stay two -- we were there bright and early those Saturday mornings to get her because I'd given her my word. K, I know, I know, but remember, this kid had my heart on a string, okay? LOL I put up with his dirty looks when he'd come over and I'd be there, and I put up with Ms DJVLBSP's lying, cheating, and jealous rages. Her paranoia, her freakish control issues (*really* freakish control issues), and her whole kit and unmedicated, non-medically compliant bipolar impulses kaboodle . . .

But the child's happiness and well-being was worth it to me, so I did it.

I'd love to file that one in my "never again" file, but as those of us in the know, know, never can only be "never" once -- you can't "never" anything again. But you can . . . as I learned from a very dear teacher, you can "not anymore". Anything you've ever said that you'll never do, and then did, you can't "never" it again -- but you can "not" it, anymore. So I don't have a "never again" file. Such doesn't exist for me. But I do have a "not anymore" file, and you definitely believe that I will not that -- settle -- anymore.

Another song comes to mind when I think of that time in my life: Dierks Bentley, "I knew what I was feelin' . . . But what was I thinkin'?" Funny, that.

2007-02-14T08:22:00.000-08:00

slack is good
slack is fun
slack is what
says walk, don't run
slack is good for me and you
let's all sing "Slack Hallelu"!

slack, slack, slack, slack
slack, slack, slack slack
slackslackslackslackslackslackslack
slack, slack,slack,slack
slackslackslackslackslackslackslack

now you know the slackslack song
won't you kindly sing along
but not if it seems like too much work
cuz that's not where the best slack lurks

slack, slack, slack, slack
slack, slack, slack slack
slackslackslackslackslackslackslack
slack, slack,slack,slack
slackslackslackslackslackslackslack

sing along, chil'ren

slack, slack, slack, slack
slack, slack, slack slack
slackslackslackslackslackslackslack
slack, slack,slack,slack
slackslackslackslackslackslackslack

git ready, this is the bridge!

slack, slack,slack,slack

slackslackslackslackslackslack
slaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-ckUH!

2007-02-03T15:08:00.000-08:00

i love my boy. he's such an unbelievably gifted smartass. at least give me a chance to feel sorry for you, he says. wonderful smartass . . . i said to him, on the way to the train station a few weeks ago, you know, if you wasn't my kid, i'd say fuck you right about now. my sweet child of a smart ass flips it right back and says, in his surly fuck-you tone, yea mom, like, i'm really glad i'm your kid right now. fuck! he's gettin good. where the hell did that come from?

i wonder what he's doin . . . i should catch up. it's been a coupla days.

friggin smartass

i hope you're readin this, boy. it's all about you.

she says, as she hears smartass in the background -- yea, mom, it's always all about me, didn't you know that?

where the hell does he get that from?

FUCK! Redux

2007-02-01T08:19:00.000-08:00

How is it that a writer of such amazing proportions can kick off, yet whose death is completely ignored by mainstream news media?

What the fuck . . .

What I mean to say is, What the fuck is that about?

Shit, I've got a class.

This ain't over. I ain't sung yet.

FUCK!

2007-01-31T14:53:00.000-08:00

Binary date 1.11

Rev Bob is dead
Long live Rev Bob

Hail Eris

All Hail Bob

Pass the Pipe

Long live Rev Bob

Amen

2007-01-31T14:23:00.000-08:00

Another great Ide.a from one of my favorite luvs over at: http://www.ide-a.net/current/index.html#today:

"The e-mail [to Ide.a from his buddy] read: 'I got this from Geof Huth. Your assignment, if you want to bother with it (as I did for my entry today), is to list five little-known facts about yourself at your blog, and pass the assignment on to five other (poetry) bloggers. Apologies if this is spammish. Blame Geof. all best, Bob'".

Just because it's spam, that don't make it bad.

1. I love cold Taco Bell crunchy tacos.

2. I am PSY.CHO.TIC during my period and the drugs don't help.

3. My secret identity is Warrior Monk, defender of truth, justice, and the asskicker way. I mean, "asskicker" in a Christian sense, of course.

4. My secret hero is Pope John Paul II.

5. I recently found out that my mother's oldest son -- the bastard who abused me -- was, just a few years ago, convicted of sexually molesting a kid who was nine years old at the time, and I'm still deciding how much his life is worth. I dunno. Jury's still out.

Oh by the way, Mr. Garrison was right -- they WERE all on their periods!

1. Women who live and/or hang out together regularly tend to have synched periods.

2. BECAUSE IT'S EVIL!!! sounded like a perfectly logical argument for me this past week!

Go Garrison!!!

2007-01-03T13:46:00.000-08:00

PopeTown 1x03 - The Big Fight
Uploaded by GillStatie

2007-01-03T13:09:00.000-08:00

PopeTown trailer
Uploaded by Nemi

2007-01-01T19:22:00.000-08:00

2006-12-29T22:06:00.000-08:00

awakening

2006-12-18T19:57:00.001-08:00

shhhhh . . .

2006-12-18T15:26:00.000-08:00

2006-12-18T14:24:00.000-08:00

So I'm in this e-discussion with my best friend FrogsPond. At the heart of the matter is this little email ditty:

My mom was a homemaker and dad worked all his life and paid into SS. Dad has passed away and now my mom can barely make ends meet. While the possible "illegal" alien in front of her at the grocery store buys the name brands, my mom goes for the generic brands, and day old breads. She doesn't have out of state calling on her phone, because she can't afford it, and shops at the thrift shops and dollar stores while the "illegal" aliens go to Macy's, Gap, J.C. Penny, Banana Republic, etc. She considers having a pizza delivered once a week "eating out". She grew up during the Depression, watched her husband go overseas to fight in WW II a year after their marriage, and then they went on to raise, feed and clothe 5 children, scrounging to pay tuition for parochial schools. I'm sorry, but I can't see how the Senate can justify this slap in the face to born and bred, or naturalized citizens. It's already impossible to live on Social Security alone. If they give benefits to "illegal" aliens who have never contributed, where does that leave us that have paid into Social Security all our working lives? The Senate voted this week to allow "illegal" aliens access to Social Security benefits. Attached is an opportunity to sign a petition that requires citizenship for eligibility to receive social services. If you do not wish to sign the petition yourself, please forward on to anyone you think might be interested.

Ok, with the caveat that I don't "do" online petitions -- or any others, for that matter -- this has been a fun, fun e-discussion.

FPL: Just a quick comment...This petition seems to be about two separate and different issues. The first is Social Security benefits. My understanding is that you need a Social Security Number to get SS benefits. In order to get a Social Security Number you need to file the eligible to work in the US papers.(See link: http://www.ssa.gov/pubs/10107.html) The second issue seems to be to allow "illegal" aliens access to socialservices. (Quote from below "Attached is an opportunity to sign apetition that requires citizenship for eligibility to receive socialservices.") My understanding is that social services is medical coverage, school attendance for children and adults and things likethat. I would agree to signing a petition to restrict access to Social Security benefits. I don't feel comfortable signing a petition that appears to be for restricting social services access because I feel that health care, education and other services that fall under that umbrella belong to all of us, legal or not.

BBL: I'd agree to sign both.

I figure if people entering this country want access to the benefits that my tax dollars help pay for, then they need to become legal citizens of this country. In my mind, there's no excuse for living here for 10 or 12 years, having multiple babies and bringing over generation after generation of family members, and expecting US taxpayers to support them all without their becoming legal members of US taxpaying society. I think it's fine to emigrate to another country for better opportunity; I don't, however, think it's fine to break one's new home country's laws and expect those same laws to protect and support them.

Basically, my stance is this: "If you wanna receive US Social Security benefits, then show me your Social Security card so that I'll know that you're contributing to the US Social Security system." I just don't believe in something-for-nothing, especially on this large a scale.

That's what your Social Security number is for, really -- to ensure that should you reach a place in your life where you need Social Security benefits, that you are entitled to those benefits because when and if you have been able, you have contributed to the Social Security system, for the benefit of all of us. If you are not able to contribute because of physical or psychological difficulties, not a problem. But if you're able to work, part of your paycheck should go into that system so that you can reap the benefits -- and that can only happen if you have a SSN.

The government has made it easier than ever for those who have gotten here illegally to become legal citizens. Those who choose to not, in my opinion, need to be deported so that they'll stop taking advantage of federal and state benefits without being held to the responsibility of helping to support those federal and state benefit programs.

"Get Legal, or Get Out."

FPL: I didn't think that you were anti-immigration and I thought the last email was pretty clear about that. (nice tag line by the way) I have to admit, that I am persuaded by the statements you said below. *grumble grumble* :-)

BBL: So okay, let me explain where my response comes from:

Half my family came here as unwilling slaves. The other half was already here, and they got killed and had their land stolen by European invaders. So, needless to say, my ancestors paid a heavy price for my becoming a "legal citizen" of this country. I'm legal, not because I was born here, but because after all the European invaders did to my ancestors, I deserve to be.

See, to me, there's a difference between choosing to come here and being forced to come here. There's also a difference between choosing to come here and being forced to live under the laws of the invaders of your homeland.

Those who choose to come here are already at a distinct advantage, in that as soon as they enter these borders, they are free to come and go as they please, to work and get paid, and to live wherever they choose. That's a priviledge, and I think that they need to treat it as such by respecting the laws we have here.

Now, I'm no great fan of the European invaders and slavers that stole so much from my ancestors. But I will give them props for the imperfect system of government that (now) gives freedom, support, and protection to almost all of its citizens. I think that it's a show of gratitude (among other things) that make me okay with giving up part of my paycheck to the Social Security system. And I think that anybody who chooses to come here, of their own volition, owes a similar debt of gratitude because they couldn't get Social Security benefits in their own homelands -- regardless of who paid into the system. And since it's available here, and they want to be entitled to it here, then they need to pay into the system here -- legally, and without having to be forced to do it.

I'm not anti-immigration. I'm anti-freeloading.

I love it when I can make'er grumble . . .

2006-12-18T14:21:00.000-08:00

for da frogster

Get Legal or Get Out.

The only fire and brimstone I believe in is the kind I hurl at people who piss me off.

clap on . . . clap off

2006-12-17T21:35:00.000-08:00

for my good friend the frogster . . .

just let me flagellate myself

i promise i'll make it hurt

2006-12-17T21:16:00.000-08:00

so there.

2006-12-14T23:59:00.000-08:00

so is tony sinclair some corporate bunghole's getoff toy? or is there really a black scot named sinclair?

who's pissed?

2006-12-11T19:54:00.000-08:00

so, like i'm watchin mary poppins for probably the fiftyfirst time and she's a carpet bagger.

i love this movie. it's like my favorite of all time. heh. imagine that.

i'm still workin on my essays, though not this minute cuz . . . well, i'm here. toughest essays for me are having to explain in detail why it occurs to me to do something. so, i've just decided to be completely honest -- or, at least as honest as i can be and not be only the nineteenth person [penguin break]
fuckin a

dick van dyke

fuckin hammer musta watched this movie too.

see, two fellers ain't gotta be gay t'dayunce t'gether. no shit

oh yea, . . .to get rejected by seminary. i've probably been on cloud fifteenhundredfiftytwo last coupla days. sometimes i wonder whether i'm the only one who gets giddy at the thought of their pastor okaying their going forward with seminary, but it fuckin rocks.

i mean, i think about celebratin my first Communion and my relationship with my mentor, the day i joined -- at both here and home -- and this and the not-cynical part of me is totally amazed that it seems like yea, God wants me. me. who the fuck am i, that God Almighty should want me to do stuff? i'm pretty sure this is one of them moses moments -- one of those moments when your surely-Lord-not-i is more of a holy-shit than an oh-shit-He's-right. the second kind is that peter kind. i'd like to say i'm done with those, but i know that i'm not. but well, at least i know my archetypes. (thxdb)

had to do this assigment a coupla weeks ago, writing prompts. geekgeek i like'em cuz yea, my favorite subject is actually me. which is why i have a blog. so i don't drive my friends batshit crazy exploring every single solitary bit of bellybutton lint i come across. shitshitshit supercalifragilisticexpialadocious. i remember, my kid brother was six -- the one who's my stepmom's kid, not my mom's youngest -- he had to learn that word . . . well, song, really . . . and it's stuck in my head everytime i hear it or even just think of it, and it stays stuck for days and days.

my lil poohbear is sleepin on her red'n'black blankie. i've only ever seen one other like it. she's half on [clapclap] half off; she's gonna have a thick, pretty coat. she's already gettin her neckfloof. i can sneeze like a bitch and she doesn't move, but i get up and she's at my side instantly.

sara lee is using the ren and stimpy h2j2 to sell sweet, fat shit to people like me who don't need it. how fucked up is that. they're gonna get us . . . one way or another, they're gonna getchusgetchus . . .

she's gonna put me to sleep

2006-12-07T21:17:00.000-08:00

funny . . . i'm watchin this law n order where this dude runnin this cult within the tunnels of the ny subway system. and this dude, he's got this thing called psomethingsomethingdothersomethingsophilia. i know it started with a p, but having just read that there's a philia for foot sex -- it, being podo (i'm sharin the love) -- i'll just leave it at that. light hurts. halucinations. they offer nuts up to their goddess in their down below. those nuts.
i'm impressed.

2006-12-07T18:48:00.000-08:00

i'm arguing with my civ teacher because she's being unreasonable. hey, i'm a junior and i care about my fellow students. i'd like the perk, sure, but it's really for them.

gonna do homework tomorrow. i'm already too tired tonight.

2006-12-06T21:06:00.000-08:00

oh i love cartman, hallway monitor

ike and the teacher . . . why couldn't i have that kinderbabysitter?

i got my pastor's okay to pursue to seminary. and i've chosen one. and it isn't here. i am so insanely giddy. inside, where it counts. i've got this . . . twinkle . . . giddy as a fruitcake. hooray!
one hurdle more, but i'm walkin in the light.

i won't say anymore.

not yet.

2006-11-30T21:03:00.000-08:00

come on in
water's fine

that's what the sign read. i've always thought that was such a cool line, so i use it often. y'know, whenev. interestin stuff goin all round me, i see. it's a shit of a time to be in armpit, that's for sure. for one thing, God help'im, he reminds me smack of the manchurian candidate -- the original one, from the sinatra flick. you know, cheney's mom and batty ol'condi's the drunk stepfather. yea, he's mom -- the angela lansbury mom. she's a trip, ain't she.

y'know, if i were the grown up, on-my-own lesbikid of the full-o-vice prez, i could not keep silent. i could not live my life in that closet. i think i'd fuckin hang myself first. what the fuck is up with her? y'know five minutes alone with my tongue and she'd be blowin them closet doors clean off their hinges and the thousand tiny little splinters would embed in daddy and daddy's puppet, one needle at a time. or, so i've heard. maybe that's why i didn't stay in cali when i had the opp. puppetmaster cheney wouldn't be in that seat now if it wasn't for that. dammit, janet.

fuck, i'm beat. it's all i can do to stay up. and when it's this much of a struggle, fuck it.

my civ teacher wanted us to design a hell for the 21st century. . .

2006-11-29T21:19:00.000-08:00

The Hell of Our Dreams

I believe that Hell exists only as a construct of our individual minds – as if the thought of going someplace that we truly do not want to be, and spending eternity there, is enough of an incentive for most people to do what is “right” and not what is “wrong”. I believe that we have this good/evil paradigm primarily because: (1) early humans needed a way to explain why “bad” things happen and how our concept of God would punish “bad” people for their crimes; and (2) early churches needed a way to scare the masses into being faithful to organized religion, in order to distinguish between “us” and “them”, “civilized” and “barbaric”. Those are just my opinions, though – beliefs that I hold to be true, according to my own readings, life experiences, and studies of human behaviors. From that premises, the Hell that I would construct (if I were, Heaven forbid, ever given such a task, would look a little different to each individual whose fortune led to That Bad Place Where Bad People Go.

First, I must re-define the word bad, because I think that calling something “bad” confers upon it what author Robert Anton Wilson calls an isness, an ability to “be” something other than what it seems to be.[1] I try to see things as they seem to be, if I have to attach a value judgment to whatever it is I am looking at, at all. For instance, my friend Michael lost his partner of 19 years during last year’s holiday season. To say that he “is” still sad does not lend credence to the fact that there were many moments during the past year where Michael seemed perfectly happy, content, and adjusted. However, if I say that in this moment, Michael seems to be sad, that lends more accuracy to my perception of Michael’s current state of emotions. This is a technique known as English-Prime, or more simply, E-Prime (Wilson 99). So, to define the word bad as it will be used herein, I will simply define it as “having a quality that seems to not be beneficial for one’s self or for anybody else”[2]. Therefore, villains, we will surmise, are the people that commit acts that seem to “bad”.

I have trouble with that because I believe that whatever a person does, it is right, according to that person’s worldview. While a particular decision may not be one that I would make, if I were to put my self in . . . say, Hitler’s shoes, I can not completely guarantee that I would not have made the same choices that he did. Everything from his childhood to his religious beliefs, even to the semi-hallucinogenic effects of the syphilis he is believed to have contracted while in Vienna[3] made an impact on his worldview. He studied, and came to believe in, the works of Lanz von Liebenfels and Georg von Schoenerer; he learned politicking from Karl Luger.[4] If I had, too, would I hate Jews?

So, to design Hitler’s Hell, he would just have to be made to believe that he had it all wrong – that really, God (as he knew God) really did favor the Jews and Jesus was really a Jew. Or better, to have him believe that his own mother was Jewish. I believe that either of those scenarios would be worse than any amount of fire and brimstone for the poor son of Alois and Klara Hitler.

I chose Hitler because he always seems to be the obvious choice for people looking for someone to reserve a special seat in Hell for. But there are other “villains”, too, like bank robbers and rapists. A bank robber likely fears poverty, so Hell for a bank robber would mean internalizing the thought that no matter what that person has, s/he will always be looked upon – even by her/himself – as poor. Hell for a rapist, I think, would be spending eternity as eunuched sex slave. Or at least, having that rapist believe that that is what s/he “is”, and not just “seems to be”.

If I were to design a 21st century Hell, it would not be of bricks or mortar or other things that can physically decay. In my 21st century, Hell would be more subtle, like a post-hypnotic suggestion – and not one dealing with fire and brimstone. It would be one that made the Hell-bound one relive his most excruciating fear, over and over and over again.

[1] Wilson, p. 100
[2] Author’s definition
[3] http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Holocaust/hitler.html
[4] Ibid.

Sources Cited

Adolph Hitler (1997). The Jewish Virtual Library: A Division of the American-Israeli Cooperative Enterprise. Retrieved 26 November 2006 from http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org.

Wilson, Robert Anton (1990). Quantum Psychology: How Brain Software Programs You & Your World. AZ: New Falcon Publications

gettin primed

2006-11-29T21:06:00.000-08:00

caught myself the other day sayin somethin like how you know it's really bad when daddy bush looks good to vote for in oh-eight. daddy bush. that's when i realised that they've got me. subliminally, with all these political cartoons -- they know how much i love cartoons -- with the lesser bush slopped over his daddy's knee, gettin primed for the whupin . . . i agree, though, it is just a little late for that

but we're gettin primed, too, nonetheless. see, if they can just get enough of us lookin at what's out there, then maybe enough of us will say that we at least know that hell, but who knows what havoc will wreak if a woman who still gets pms happens to be runnin the country. what if she gets pregnant? could we actually trust ourselves to behave long enough for her to plop that little sucker out? prolly not.

and this barrack obama guy . . . he's pretty cute, to say the least, but could we take him seriously as white house material? if he's in the runnin, well . . . best maybe to let the woman take the top spot. it's always nice when she takes the top spot, ain't it? but don't let me digress . . .

personally, seein's how they've got me sayin daddy bush and poppa bush and all that crazy shit, best thing i can prolly do is never step foot in politics, not even to vote. big brother's watching, but what he don't know is that little sister is watchin him. you can be sure she's learnin lots, too, never forget.

i'm feelin pretty primed now. think i'll go find a vicodin and lull my ass to sleep.

cheers

2006-11-21T16:47:00.000-08:00

suddenly, there's too much lint in here. i think i wanna make a movie.

2006-11-16T11:24:00.000-08:00

rainy, warm, and grey
was it that way
the day you were born
do you remember
i wouldn't be surprised if you did
we are talking about you
after all

i told you that i would never forget
and i never lie
well, not to you, anyway

happy birthday, t or db or who . . . ever you are today
love always, n or yj or whoever i am today

2006-11-12T02:22:00.000-08:00

amazing what i can do when i'm trying to not think about hurlin' by the side of the road every ten miles or so

2006-11-12T02:16:00.000-08:00

i actually took these, by the way

2006-11-12T02:13:00.000-08:00

2006-11-12T02:01:00.000-08:00

up there
there is so much room
where babies burp and flowers bloom
everyone dreams, i can dream, too

up where
the skies are ocean blue
i could be safe and live without a care
up there

day three

2006-11-04T08:38:00.000-08:00

so it's day three here in pittsburgh. steeltown is a beautiful city to hang out in at night. aims drove us all over the place -- her childhood home, places like that. at some point, we came upon this sign that said 'scenic overlook'. wow . . .

catching a cold, i think. silly me went out yesterday, wet headed. then last night, stayed out in the buttfuck cold to get snaps of city lights. well, the gargle with the listerine will help.

lovely time here, but i'm really anxious to get home. 'hello/goodbye sex' is awesome, better even than makeup sex. and i miss my dog. she's my little dyke dog. heheheh

should start writing the column, actually. maybe i will.

2006-10-30T21:22:00.000-08:00

eye scream, ewe scream

i love ice cream. not supposed to have it, of course, because it tastes good and makes me wanna throw up, all at the same time. funny, that.

when i was a kid, ice cream was an especially momentous dessert. we didn't have it very often, so when it was in the house, everyfreakinbody'd better be good.

we always got neopolitan. most bang for your buck cuz nobody ever really liked exactly the same kind. me, i liked vanilla best. getting vanilla gave you a really good chance of scorin' all three flavors with just one or two dips. a little bit of choc on the right, a little strawberry on the left . . . that was heaven-in-a-bowl, and the longer you waited, the more choc and berry you were likely to score. being served last was never a bad thing, no matter what we were eatin'.

at the table, we learned how to be grateful -- or at least, sound as sincerely grateful as possible -- courtesy of my dad, who made us thank our mother and tell her that it was good before we touched even the tiniest morsel. that thanks-mom-it's-good-mom came right after saying grace, and we said grace at every meal. i think that was one of the first things to go once i was out on my own, although whenever there was before-meal praying in public, my head was bowed and my eyes were closed. i have missed the reverence i once felt for God. i lost it when i began to be afraid that God really would do something, something visible to my human eyes, and holy-shit-what-would-they-think-then. He did once . . . well, three times that i can remember.

the first time was at ten, in mrs. z's church's Christmas pageant, when i disappeared into God and literally left my body in that place, a ball of pure white light in the presence of Great. White. Light. never forget that. i never will forget that moment.

second time was about four years later, during a vacation Bible school recess. i . . . there was nothing wrong with me. i'd said that i had to go to the bathroom, but it's safe to confess now that i didn't really have to go to the bathroom. i just wanted to be away from the loudness of the laughter and the whispers i felt everywhere i went in that church. it was my stepmother's church, where the best kept secret was that my father was an abusive alcoholic whose children were in the center of the longest custody battle ever waged. what most of them didn't know, though, was that i was, sometimes, the instigator in it all. yup, i'd get pissed at my mom and run to my dad's, and vice versa. i was the product of two people whom i would have never let get together, so thank God that i'm not God because if i was God, i probably wouldn't exist. but i digress . . .

at my stepmother's church, i was noticeably and awkwardly different. i was not a pretty child, although i do like the way my face has filled out and matured over the years. as a kid, though, i was just awkward -- always nervous and completely alien, especially around other girls. that, right there, shoulda been my second clue. the first one shoulda been the girl with whom i shared almost nothing, but drank in her presence like water, when we were both seven years old. never occured to . . . well, that's a lie. it occured to me at fourteen, but that's another story.

that day, during recess at vacation Bible school, when i lied and said i had to 'go' . . .

i walked into the church, not making a sound. i'd entered from the field, across from the back of the church, where we'd all been playing kickball. as i walked in the doors, i entered the hallway that separated the fellowship hall and the sanctuary. the fellowship "hall" was actually a large room where we held special dinners or fashion shows, things of that nature. it was the room where everyone sort of hung out after services -- especially if it was raining or snowing outside. i could hear sounds of stuff going on in the fellowship hall. nothing major, but enough that if one of the women who worked in the hall's kitchen saw me bobbing around aimlessly, i'd either get told to get back outside or i'd get snitched on -- or both, neither of which was particularly desirable at that point.

i walked with a particular effort to see around, inside of the fellowship hall, before i ventured each step. at first, my back was to the sanctuary. then, i don't know why, but i turned around. i was just tall enough that if i stood on the balls of my feet, i could see in the window, into the sanctuary. i felt this pull, almost instantly, from just a little above my belly button, all the way to in front of the altar and the pulpit. scared me. when i rounded the corner to where the bathrooms were, i almost made a pit stop to ask to speak to the pastor. i stopped my self.

third time, i was celebrating my first Communion during my deacon candidacy. God . . . that was the high point for every candidate, i think -- our first Communion.

we'd had a Pentecostal kinda service that day, with people gettin' happy and jumpin' and shoutin' . . . it was an amazing service. i was so nervous, standing there at the Altar. when i opened my mouth to speak, a woman in the second row began shouting, caught up in Spirit as she was. and so i waited. God said, 'hold still'. after a moment or two, i opened my mouth again, and again, her shouts rang out, filling the Sanctuary. 'be still and know I am God', He said. after the third time, they were able to calm her. i began reciting the Canon, which my mentor had made sure i memorized and could repeat upon request, even though we would always have a copy of both long and short versions of the Canon right on the Altar with us. my mentor was the best.

as i recited the Canon, i felt filled with so much love . . . so much . . . Light, i wept, openly, before my congregation. and then, a little later as i concluded the Consecration, a beam of sunlight broke through and shone down on me, right where i stood. for the first time in my life, i understood what Jesus felt at His Baptism. ironically, my pastor called that my 'baptism by fire' -- she still does, in fact. as far as she knows, no other deacon candidate from our parish has ever been 'baptised by fire' the way i was. felt kinda cool when she put her hand on my shoulder and told me that i'd done good.

sometimes, a scream is good. even though it feels good and makes me wanna puke, all at the same time.

2006-10-27T00:59:00.000-07:00

the bloodwriting on the wall

when i was about eight and a half years old, i awakened on some ordinary morning and i found our little three-bedroom apartment eerily quiet. two of my brothers were asleep in the bedroom that i shared with them. my parents' bedroom door was shut tight as it always was. but something wasn't right. i could feel it. not that prickly feeling some people talk about, or that skin-crawling fear thing. something much more subtle than that had led me out of bed that morning.

i walked softly around the first corner, into the dining room. if there was anything out of place, i didn't notice it being so. my mom has always kept a very tidy house. not so neat that it couldn't be lived in, but always nice enough so that if unexpected guests arrived, we wouldn't be embarassed. thanks, mom. the table was clean, the chairs were in their places . . . sometimes we even had placemats, and i think there were some on the table that morning, too. maybe. it gets hazy. none of the furniture seemed out of place, though -- and on the surface, it looked as normal as normal could look in our house.

we were poor as churchmice sometimes. maybe that's why i feel so connected to the children at el tamarindo -- regardless of economic circumstance, those parents give their children the best they've got. they were always as i was when i was their age: poor, but clean and relatively content. back then, i never felt discontent. i was about three years into my mother's older son's sexual abuse of me, but it was so indelible that i've retained only two clear memories of it before the age of ten. i sometimes almost wish it were so, for the time after that.

he'd been given the den, my older halfsibling had. my father had wanted to give it to me, being the only girl. but all my mom could see was that i was his favorite, so the room went to her son -- the oldest -- instead of to his daughter, his favorite. i wasn't my dad's favorite just for shits'n'giggles, nor because i was the only girl-- although that went a long way in my father's family. i was his favorite because i made great grades, was so far advance that i was among about a handful of kids in our school who got to take french in fourth grade, and i was pretty tough, quiet, and smart. i wasn't 'daddy's little girl'; i was my father's kid. my dad liked me hanging out with him; my brothers and halfsibling, he could take or leave. given the choice, he would leave his wife's son with her. every time.

but i wasn't thinking about any of that on that morning as i walked through the small path that separated the dining room from the kitchen.

i can remember hearing my father saying something. he was praying, i knew, but over what now, i had no idea. he prayed a lot, my dad did. especially when he'd done something stupid like hit my mom. my belief is that God had already forgiven him. it would be another decade, though, before my mother would be able to do the same.

so i knew what the garbled ramblings usually signified, but this morning was somehow different. i remember listening for the tv and noticing that i didn't smell oatmeal. oatmeal was a staple breakfast food in my family. it was the only thing that went far enough to feed four kids and two adults on a daily basis. i don't ever remember eating breakfast at school, not even after the divorce. my mom fixed us breakfast every morning and we wore t-shirts under our clothes from october through may. i never caught a cold until i started living on my own. thanks, mom.

the kitchen was dark that morning -- another sign that something had gone awry. as i walked softly past the kitchen, i looked down at the corner of the wall, where the kitchen met the living room. there it was. all of a sudden, i could hear my father clearly, begging, 'bring her back, Lord. safe and sound, Lord.' it was my mother's blood, splattered on that wall corner. i could only vaguely remember the sounds of their argument from the night before, but as soon as i saw the blood, i knew clearly who it belonged to.

my mom had left. and she'd taken that bastard of a son with her. eighteen or twenty months later, the divorce would be final.

2006-10-11T19:51:00.000-07:00

mi amor

mon coeur

eyes like mine
fearing all
afraid of nothing

eyes wide open
we take the plunge
into life's great beyond

whee!

2006-09-24T04:01:00.000-07:00

Hmmm . . . this could be the start of something quite nice.
Last updated 24.9.2006

2006-09-21T15:34:00.000-07:00

Advisor
None

Term GPA 4.000

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Course Section Title Final Grd Credits CEUs
1 SOSC-105-60 Introduction to Sociology A 3.00
2 SCNC-106-60 Introductions to Science A 3.00
3 HUMN-303-01 Professional Ethnics A 3.00
4 LEGL-103-01 Legal Terminology A 3.00