a nobody from nowhere

whatever bi-ouch.... you're still my aunt

2010-01-24T18:41:00.000-08:00

been a long time people, much has happened since i last posted a blog.
ordinarily when i'm in this social hibernation phase, i'm writing. this time i haven't written a thing until now.
what's different?
i don't know.
i still don't feel ready to connect with all my friends and family but i have been living in a cave for so long now i know they are beginning to wonder and worry about me. i'm going to have to do something, i just don't know how soon it will be. i checked my email account tonight for the first time in months, i had/have 157 unread emails. i plugged my phone in to charge when i woke up so i could call my son in Lubbock but once the battery dies again i doubt i'll make any phone calls.
i talk to my husband and my daughter on a daily basis but the only reason i do is because they live with me. i've even been ignoring my dog.
perhaps it's not a social hibernation i'm in ,
perhaps it's just an emotional one,
maybe that's the difference this time.
or maybe the difference is i'm finally able to recognise and distinguish between the two.

recently i engaged in a causal conversation with a female co-worker about books, who we read, what we liked, etc. She told me i was the first person she has ever spoken to that reads JD Robb. we talked for a while about the series of books and in the middle of our conversation a thought popped into my head: " are my scars showing? "
oddly enough when it floated through my mind, we both stopped talking and just stared at each other. it was there hanging in the air but neither wanted to pop that bubble. another place, another time, i would have revealed more but it would have made working together either uncomfortable or too personal. over sharing at work usually is not a good thing.
i'm keeping a safe distance, being casual and light, smile and wave at all the cameras in the sky.
as my grandma use to say "you can look but don't touch"

my sister/aunt popped in and out of the family's consciousness this christmas season. true to her usually form. i keep hoping she will grow and change with age but unfortunately it's not happening. she left us all, moved away over 20 years ago. which is fine, is quite common in some families, my mother, in fact, did the same thing to her family when she was young.

when my sister/aunt and her husband of 20+ years divorced we hoped she would return to Texas but instead she went the other way. She moved to Canada and married my mother's younger brother. it was a shock and an emotional blow especial since she delivered the news on a mother's day weekend but like always, i survived my family.

my sister/aunt has been married to my uncle/brother-in-law for some time now. i should be okay with this. i should have gotten over it and gotten on with my life by now. do the christian thing: forgive and forget?

well...
for christmas this year she mailed me and one of my other two sisters a certified letter detailing all the reasons why she didn't want to be our sister any longer, she stated that basically she was finishing what i started by not accepting her new husband. because we betrayed her by inviting her ex husband/the father of our niece and nephew to share christmas with us all.

all my sisters are divorced, most of my friends are divorced. divorce unfortunately is part of the new modern american household. we learn, we grow, we change, we adapt, we move on. but regardless to whether the parents remain together, we are still linked by the children. the million dollar question is how uncomfortable and miserable do you want the children in your family to be?
was i angry with my ex-brother in laws when they divorced my sisters?
yes, i was, very much so. At the time of each divorce i could have happily clipped off their private parts with common garden tools. thankfully i resisted that impulse.
now even thought i am no longer close with the ex-brother-in-law's, i am comfortable enough to give them a hug and a friendly hello. but more importantly the children/young adults are not overly uncomfortable and can discuss their relationship with their father when ever they need to.

so to my sister/aunt certified letter announcing the disbandment of our sisterhood, i say:
"whatever bi-ouch...you're still my aunt"
you know, i've been working nights, i missed the postman. i never signed for my copy of her letter. return to sender! my other sister that she disowned was upset enough for the both of us. i refuse to worry myself sick over head games. she is trying to play us against each other just like when we were kids. she has been gone so long, sometimes i think she still see us all as children instead of adults.

my sister/aunt is still repeating behavior patterns that we were raised in. my parents did not raise their children to be friendly and loving towards one another. they raised us in an extremely hostile environment, to not trust, to compete for their beloved parental affection and to be jealous of each other. they used very effective key words and phrases over years to achieve their parental goals and for the most part, it worked.

i use to believe that my father was a master manipulator. that he could literally talk anyone into doing anything. but in truth, he was a weak and pitiful man. the only reason why he effected us so tremendously was because we were too young to defend our mental/emotional/and physical self against him. if we had not been born into his household he never would have been able to dismantle our self esteem, our self confidence, or our self worth and lather our base with shame.

we were strong enough to survive but are we strong enough to repair the damage?

i'd hoped that by now, after over 40 plus years of this behavior patterns, we would some how be able to snap out of it. be our own woman and not fall into the roles our parents designated for us to be. unfortunately instead of growing together we are crumbling further apart.

this day of mine

2009-08-08T22:35:00.000-07:00

today was just another ordinary day?
Just like all those other days that blur into each other to create my life.
today i finished rereading lkh's skin trade, ate a couple meals, washed a few loads of clothes, went to work, came home, kissed my husband, and here i sit
typing about
this day of mine.
i'm not depressed, i'm not upset, i'm not melancholy
but i'm not jolly, cheerful , or merry either.
someplace between the two i guess,
drifted into nothingness,
not caring either way,
no big deal
this simple bland day.
that in itself is an accomplishment of sorts.
august 8,1995,
the day my father died.
the fact that it had no effect on me at all,
is a relief, a blessing, almost a cleansing.
no anger, no tears, no memories hovering just beneath the surface.
partly because i started the day reading, allowing my mind to become completely absorbed into another world.
but when i closed the cover of the book and placed it back on the shelf again everything was okay. everything was as it should be.
my life is not perfect, but it's damn close.
life is good, getting better every day.
and i'm grateful

peace to all

2009-07-15T23:14:00.000-07:00

i went to a 'diversity and inclusion' training session for work today. my first thoughts were happy ones. free money, pay me to sit and do nothing, instead of listening to all the bitchy people at work. i could handle that.

i never expected to enjoy it as much as i did. it was a mini-crash course in how to positively reinforce and encourage co-workers to help enhance their work production and performance. it was a very simple and basic explanation of how to "work well with others" despite our differences and try to make everyone feel like they are part of the money making team.

who do we include? who do we exclude? and why?
when i was going over the inclusion list in my head i felt comfortable with my check list of people. i was already doing a lot of the things they suggested. but than again it was all very simple, you know, basic human kindness, individual respect, listening...

there is this one guy at work, he drives everyone bonkers, annoys all the other employees constantly. This guy has OCD tattooed on his forehead. But upper management loves him because he has a place and a purpose in the company. he is Mr. Fund raiser. he sells more donation balloons than anyone else in the entire state. In an average 8hr shift he sells 75 to 100 one dollar balloons.

he' s a jabber jaw. he talks and talks and talks some more. he tells all the corny jokes, puns, and oddest story's that seem to never end nor have a point or punch line to them. All the other employees avoid him because they know once he opens his mouth to speak he won't close it till he's driving home.

i've sat with him on occasion in the break room and try to guide the conversation away from the jokes and it always ends up back to the same topic: the children's hospital balloons. in my chats with him i found out that he also volunteers at the children's hospital, again something to do with the balloons, keeps a running tally of all his collected donations, and even sends out little thank you cards to those people who donate over a certain amount in a year. he also shared with me that at his last birthday party (50+) he asked all his guests not to bring gifts but instead to buy donations balloons for the children's hospital. this guy simple eats, drinks, and lives for these donation balloons.

when i learned all this i was amazed and it changed my opinion of him. yes he is still the worlds worst joke and story teller that i have ever listened to, he still has OCD: all bills face this way, everything is total and tally perfectly, same bat station, same bat time...
and i know that his balloon sales are a tool he uses to help keep focused. but what amazed me about him was that he managed to change something that can often be debilitating and turned it around to be a productive way to give back and help mankind. whether it was intentially or not i haven't a clue. my rose colored glasses wants to believe it so.

my step sister was an inspiration to me while i was growing up. she was my ruler that i measured my quality of life by. i could walk, i could talk, i could use my mind and my body. i could grow and i could change and i could make my life better. she could do none of those thing but still confined in her chair with no way to communicate she could feel love. i would sit with her, hold her hand, whisper in her ear, and she would responded to me.

i was young when i first met her, still in grade school. i pictured her mind and spirit as being trapped somewhere between heaven and earth. She was living in this world but still connected to heaven. i use to push her wheel chair, move it back and forth, hold her hands like we were dancing, and singing along to music. she had the biggest brightest smile and her entire face would light up with joy. she was beautiful.

my step-sister was a "Make a child's dream come true" kid. i don't remember all the details exactly. i know she did get her dream, or as much of a dream as she could have in her condition
and a big part of the reason why was because of people just like this goof-ball guy at work constantly collecting money by selling those donation balloons at the grocery checkout.

i'm very empathic. i don't want to bond with him. if i ask, if i know his whole story i will. i can feel it lingering in the air all around him. some days it's so heavy, it sits in his eyes like a tangible touchable entity distancing him from the rest of the world. i can feel enough to know he is beyond my fortune cookie, quick fix approach. my instinct tells me to leave this one alone.
so i do.

Regardless to his reasons why he does what he does,
i'll always be grateful for the efforts of
this goofy guy at work
helping disabled children.

of course, i'm not suppose to label him goofy,
socially challenged maybe?

diversity and inclusions.
live and let live

3am

2009-07-11T00:43:00.000-07:00

my mind it still spinning, it is so late,
perhaps too late.
i keep looking back over my shoulder, wondering if the steps taken where....
see it's late, perhaps too late...
to be worrying and wondering and playing the 'what if' game.
at this time between the sleeping and the wake,
3am.
flip the coin dear girl.
roll the dies
play a hand
winner takes all
take a chance
risk
go out on a limb
trust yourself
believe
live
love
touch
feel
know
peace

tossed salad

2009-06-28T00:41:00.000-07:00

imprints and impression of experiences
leaving traces
tracks on our body, mind and spirit,
combinations blending together,
people, places, things,
make up who we are
explain why we are able
to constantly grow and change
throughout our entire life,
it’s a never ending process.
no days are wasted
regardless to our conscious opinion
of how it was
today

her dime, my time

2009-05-20T19:31:00.000-07:00

I’m in the middle of a writing project, decided I wasn’t going to give up on it and I’m not. I have postponed and put off for years. If I stop now I will never do the actual work to make the dream happen. This is my goal I set for myself; write every day, even if it is only one line added, or one word edited. I will finish all my stories. So by day I work on my W-2 form and by night and any other time I write. The only person that can make all my dreams come true is me. if I want my life to change I am the only person that can change it. I have to stop listening and wondering and worrying about the thoughts and opinions of others. I have to follow my own light, my own instinct, my own path. I will do this for me. I will do this for the little girl that I use to be, that dreamed about what her life would be like when she grew up. She fought for my life. I will not take a free ride and just float the rest of the way home on her dime.

My training continues.

2009-05-18T20:40:00.000-07:00

my pissology 101 class began today.
i was promoted at work and am now official a CSM or customer service manager.
my job description?

i still don't have a clear picture in my head, just like when i started as a lowly cashier, every person involved in your training tells you a different way of doing something.
which of course i hate. just tell me the fuck what i'm suppose to do and i will do it, but don't tell me one way this day and another way on tuesday.

fuck me. i was exhausted by the end of my shift but it was the most unusual and interesting day i have had thus far.

today i stood in an extremely small room, maybe 5' by 5' and listened to six angry women try to sort out their issues of blah blah changes and blah blah quotas not being met. was this a department meeting or a bitch session?
i could see both sides clearly, i know what needs to be done, i'm the peacemaker, it's my job to make happy people where ever i go.

they told me we were equals. we shall soon see.

"so how's that been working out for ya?"

2009-05-05T21:48:00.000-07:00

I am a people pleaser.

I always try to please all the people that I find myself surrounded by at any giving minute in time which is not only an impossible task but a very damning one. I will never be able to make every person that travels in and out of my life happy.
In the end, I know I’m doomed to be a failure. Because not only is it impossible for me to ‘make’ people happy but also it is equally impossible for me to keep them in this constant state of bliss 24/7.
Realistically I know this is impossible, but still I try.

I should have been born with a magic wand so I can bounce around from place to place granting miserable people happy minutes. Yeah, just like on TV, don’t waste your happy minutes dear…

Fuck me, fuck you, and fuck your damn bitch too!
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Why can’t I do anything for myself without feeling guilty or selfish or greedy or wrong?

I never answer my phone, I treat my family and friends like shit, ignore them all for months at a time, than become annoyed with them for actually having the nerve to miss me. I’ve spent my entire life trying desperately to not need anyone.

“So, how’s that been working out for ya?”
Well, let me think….
(Jeopardy theme music is playing in the background)
Realistically I know this is impossible, but still I try.

Why is it so important that people are happy around you?
Happy people rarely throw things,
like hammers at your grandmother
dishes at your mother
food at your siblings
rocks at your dog
Happy people rarely
Beat your mother till she can’t get up from the floor
Beat your sisters till their bloody noses swells and her teeth chip
Beat all your dogs till they “run away”
Beat everyone in your house; except for you.
Happy people don’t scream
In your face with horrid beer breathe
At the police when they pull you over for drunk driving.
Break, damage or destroy every material possession that is important to you, just to prove that the shit really isn’t yours

Winks from a monster, Angry jealous glares, battered and bloody faces, these are the people you love.

Right now, I’m working on making myself happy. I recently enrolled in the “Fuck you! I’m a self bitch school”
Realistically I know it’s impossible, but still I try.

And yes, I did spend some time with my mother yesterday,
Does it show?

2009-04-25T02:15:00.000-07:00

My mother has had a run of bad luck lately. She was in a minor fender bender with a taxi cab driver no less. I was appointed the task of handling all the details of this drama for her because she is incapable of taking care of them herself.

Under normal circumstances the steps you walk through in such times are a tad stressful but for the most part simple and basic. You call your insurance. You call your collision repair specialist. You call the rental car place. You handle the ticket by either paying money and going to defensive driving classes or paying more money and hiring a traffic attorney.

Which is what I chose to do for my mother: Pay someone else to handle her problems for me. After all it’s the American way.

The most difficult task when dealing with my mother is her lack of intelligence. She was never a smart woman and now I find myself watching what little brain she had melting away into nothingness.

My sisters empathize with her. I, on the other hand, feel nothing but anger and contempt. This is just one more thing, one more reason why, it is our job to take care of her. She is our mother. We are supposed to take care of her therefore we do.

Just like she took care of us?

Her personality is changing and it’s not for the better. She doesn’t understand, she is no longer able to comprehend certain things, so no matter how many time they are repeated, no matter how many ways they are described, no matter how many languages we speak to her in, she just doesn’t get it.

For the past 11 days she has been driving a new rental car. Once she returned to the drivers’ seat of her old piece of shit, she knew something was different, she knew something was wrong, she just couldn’t quite recall what a complete and utter piece her old ford was.

“Are you sure they fixed my car?”

“Yes mom, remember the big huge dent on the front passengers side with all the red and blue paint from the taxi cab? That’s all gone. See… It’s all shiny and new.”

“But it sounds funny”

“Yeah, well sorry mom, but your car is a fucking piece of shit!”

2009-03-07T16:56:00.000-08:00

a paradox perhaps, this life of mine. i have often wondered how anyone has the courage to go out into the world and just go and do without thoughts or worries of the effects and consequences of their deeds on those around. than i realize that this is just how i was programed to think and believe by my parents. that this is my perception, my viewpoint and mine alone, not even my sisters share this. yet even though this is different it is not necessarily right or wrong, it simply is mine.

what scales of measure balance my conscious life? strength and weakness are woven so tightly together they are sometimes difficult to distinguish; deeds done or deed left undone, action taken or actions resisted, words spoken or words left unsaid. temptations indulged in and those resisted.

sinners and saints are fictional beings. humans are neither of thoses and everything inbetween.

2009-02-24T15:19:00.000-08:00

Nothing at all…
No matter how many times you think it
No matter how many times you say it
No matter how many times you hear it
Nothing will change,
Nothing will resolve,
Nothing will heal
Nothing at all…
Unless you feel the words to be truth
Unless you believe the words to be truth
Unless you know the words to be truth
Nothing at all…
Absolutely nothing at all…

Obviously I’m in a morbid mood,
I just finished reading a book, a new author for me, which is one reason why I rarely venture out to explore the imaginations of new storytellers. Sometimes instead of taking you away from, they dump you right in the mist of the very thing you were reading so diligently to avoid popping into your conscious thoughts. I thought I was safe with this author. It wasn’t even the first story of hers that I read. She waited till the last two chapters before she knocked me on my emotional ass.

This is what Patricia Briggs wrote: “just like it is rape when an adult coerces or cajoles a child. No matter if the child cooperates or not. Whether it feels good or not. Because that child is not able to do anything else.”

beer fairy

2009-02-15T22:38:00.000-08:00

today has been a spectacular day! first off, i began the day by writing. it felt really great to write again. other than blogging i haven't written much in the last few months. i realized that it doesn't matter what i write, writing just lifts my spirits and puts me in a jolly mood. and that is definitely what i am after, many delightfully jolly days.

i went to work at 4pm this evening only to find out that i was scheduled from 6:30am to 3pm. OMG! and of course the new big boss (as my mom likes to say, 'not my boss but the big boss! can't remember what you call him, everyone has a frigging title now!) was standing right there when i walked in some 8 1/2 hours late. fuck me, you know. shit what could i say? 'sorry my gray hairs are really showing today' i thought i was suppose to work 4pm till midnight. hell, they were swamped, they didn't even blink, they just smiled and said "we can always use you, 4pm to midnight?, that sounds great. go to 10."

high-hoe high-hoe, it's off to work i go..
i couldn't believe their response.

than i get home from work and notice that the beer fairy came to visit. i opened up my fridge and there is a 30 pack of beer inside. wow! my mind starts roaming. my hubby must have bought it, still wants to get me drunk and take advantage of me after 20 plus years together! so i walk into our bedroom to thank him and he said "I didn't buy you any beer. i thought you bought it. it was in there when i got home...."
wtf?
hope it wasn't the yard guys! no they come on Thursdays....
it's not spring break yet, so i know it wasn't my son...
thanks beer fairy, who ever you are!

finders keepers, losers weepers
i'm thirsty.

2009-02-05T16:19:00.000-08:00

today was a golf day for me and i'm really starting to get into the swing of things. my husband and i went to our city golf course today. it has a really nice driving range plus a mini three hole practice course that kinda horse shoes around the driving range. it's perfect for wild ball whackers like myself.

last week we took my young nephew to play with us. he looked like a pro compared to me, but that's okay. i really enjoy it. today my husband was in an odd mood. he seemed rushed and flustered yet at the same time acting as if nothing was wrong. i wasn't suppose to notice he was in a hurry? i thought we were going to spend several hours when we only stayed at the golf course for about one. (and no, it doesn't take me an hour to play 3 holes of golf! once we pay the fee we can repeat them as many times as we like.)

needless to say that after one round he was ready to go.

"but only if you want to leave.... dear. what do you want to do?"
"i want to hit a bucket of balls. "

so i did. i whacked a small bucket of balls while he sat on the tailgate of the truck. was he embarrassed because i was such a poor player? i couldn't figure out why he was so impatient.
i was in a good mood and i couldn't figure out why he was not in a good mood yet pretending to be in a good mood...

"just do it like this..... dear...."
"keep your head down and your arms straight.... dear.."
" you're only hitting the top of the ball... dear.."

i think that my husband likes to play golf but with men equal to his skill level.
i am not that.
once i learn how to play maybe....

but for now, i think i'll clock most of my practice hours alone or with my young nephew. besides he thinks it's hilarious that instead of soaring through the sky my ball just rolls two feet in front of me. reminds me of a song "like an old meatball, all covered in cheese...."
is it possible for golf balls to have phobias?
opps i whacked again, let me slice and dice that for you...
birdie birdie in the sky, how come my ball won't fly...

2009-02-05T00:12:00.001-08:00

A long, long time ago,

My best friend spent the night at my house. She recently returned home from orchestra camp. We talked for hours locked away in my room. she was telling me all the exciting details of her summer. she shared one escapade after another about this boy and the great romance, the bold and daring meeting, that lead to the perfect first kiss.

When she finally came to the end of those long tales of camp, i was silent for a second or two before we both burst into laughter. my childhood girlfriend was a gt (gifted and talented) kid. She was even more spectacular in person than all the stories she made up for my entertainment.

As usual, she managed to bring excitement, thrills and adventure to my ordinarily dark and gloomy childhood. sunshine on a cloudy day. That is just one reason, out of millions more, why she is still today and always will be, my dearest friend.

not enough

2009-01-30T20:56:00.000-08:00

surviving is not enough.
not really.
what is that bullshit line of the century, ‘that which does not kill you shall make you stronger..’
really? Sound like nothing but a load of crap to me because if it were true I would be miss fucking universe or something but instead I am a nobody from nowhere hiding in the dark.

that is how life is. or should I say, that is how my life is. you can feel it really. when you are born into the pit of hell and you have to fight every day for your soul and your sanity and someway you manage to survive, with a few missing parts and a few broken pieces, plaster and putty, hiding the empty holes..
hiding..
but that was not enough....

no....
not nearly enough, for your childhood is just the beginning.
you must move on, continue forward
you must apply what you learned in the real world. you must go outside, kill the demons , make a comfortable place in the world.
u go girl.
the little family home is not big enough.
money money money money.
i’ve done all I can do at home, now I must learn how to make money.
no problemo...

I remember how I felt when my father died in 1995. I had been waiting for years, thinking and believing that when it happened, when he finally died, that I would be free. that this tremendous burden would be lifted off my soul and I would be free to live my life with carefree abandonment. happy ever after were just lies and bullshit. Needless to say it didn’t work out like I had visualized it. Instead of my burdens vanishing into nothingness, my mind was flooded with horrible memories and flashbacks.
i knew my kinks and my quirks. I knew why I carefully chose to do almost everything that I did. I knew why I reacted and responded to certain thing in certain ways. I knew most of my triggers.
but that was not enough....
no...

where was the freedom? where was my power to overcome? it never failed me when I was a small child and the events were actually happening. so why were the memories so disabling? it was all in my head. why couldn’t I just blink and change the thoughts floating around inside my brain. why couldn’t I just not think about something I didn’t want to think about? For years I use books, cable tv, movies, music, video games, and the computer as my mind altering drugs.
But that was not enough…
no...

Avoiding unresolved issues only lengthens the time it takes to heal. I was trying to fix my adult problems by using my old childhood tools. perhaps because i never allowed myself to feel the reality of the moment the first time around it caused the flashbacks to become a wicked bitch-slap in the face.

happiness is a state of mind. scars are a statement of reality. I am strong. I know I have the ability to survive. Yet from the moment I was born I have been waiting to die. To leave and move on, go back to where I came from, to that better place in the sky, that heavenly place my mother told me stories about...

the truth is i’ve never been afraid to die, i'm afraid to live.

But that is not enough….
no....

I want more than the happy ending.
I want my life,
my whole life,
and nothing but my life
so help me God

stamp of love

2009-01-29T21:12:00.000-08:00

Rarely did my mother go out when we were young. So when she did she made the very most of it. Mom loved to get all dolled up. She would do her hair, nails, makeup, fancy girl clothes, you know, the works. It was always an all day affair. It took time to transform from an ordinary house wife into an extraordinary beauty queen. She just loved the entire process. I remember how she was happy and excited and her mood was so contagious.

It would start early in the morning with the washing and rolling of her long brown hair. She had these huge bright green plastic rollers. They had holes in them big enough for me to stick the tip of my pinky finger inside. The giant curlers came with these gray hair clips with little plastic tips on the ends so they wouldn’t scratch the scalp. Mom would use a comb to part a section of her hair. Roll her wet hair tightly around the large curler and secure it in place with a clip. Sometimes mom would hold her pins in her mouth as she rolled her hair up. Sometimes my sisters and I would hold them for her, hand them to her, when needed. She repeated the process over and over again till her entire head was completely covered and there wasn’t a stray hair to be found. After that she would cover her head with a silky multicolored floral scarf. It was nothing to go to the grocery store and see other mom’s with their hair done up the exact same way, curlers and scarves.

In the afternoon, Mom would give herself a manicure and a pedicure. this always require a lot of tools. nail files and clippers, cotton balls and Q-tips, with many little bottles of nail polish. She would lay out a wash rag and neatly line everything out. She would soak her feet in a basin of warm water with some secret potion to make her skin silky soft. than my mom would paint her finger nails a deep ruby red. my sisters and I would always be ready and waiting with the Q-tips and a bottle of nail polish remover just in case she painted outside the lines.

in the evening when it was an hour or so before time to go she would begin her make-up. Mom stood in her slip with her back to us. our eyes would be glued to her reflection in the mirror. she always made funny faces as she put on her makeup. she would start by smearing beige lipstick under her eyes. why are you putting lipstick under your eyes? lip stick goes on you lips. my older sister would laugh and say no silly that isn’t lip stick, it’s cover up stick. you use it to cover up the dark circles under her eyes. she would pluck her eyebrows than darken them with a pencil. brush on eye shadow and glue on false eyelashes. blush time was funny face time. she would stretch her jaw, raise her eyebrows high on her forehead and paint her cheeks .
the lip stick always caused a giggle or two. how could it not make us laugh with the big O mouth, try to stay in the lines, than the big toothy grin to make sure no red lipstick on the pearly whites.

Way back when, big hair was in. to have big hair you have to tease and tease and tease some more. my mother’s dark brown hair was long and thick. it took some time to tease it all. My sister’s and I always giggled when she had all her hair sticking straight up on end before she began to gentle brush it down in again.

why do you brush your hair back down after you spent all that time teasing it up mommy? she would look at me and laugh, ‘well don’t you think (tink) they (dey)would laugh at me if I went to the(de) party with my hair sticking up?’

she smelled of hair spray, face powers , and jean-nate. a light sweet fragrance that always defined mom.
My sister’s and I were the four little Indians watching mom put on her war paint. some days we would be there from beginning to end. other days one of us would just happen by and see that she was holding her hair pick in one hand and the tube of V05 in another and run screaming down to the hall, “mom’s teasing her hair! mom’s teasing her hair!” and of course we would all race into watch her finish.

mom would dance the gig getting into her panty hose, slip into her party dress and high heel shoes, turn and look at us all.
“so, how do I look?”
“Beautiful!”
and she was.
and she still is.

she would give us each a kiss on the cheek.
mom’s lip prints,
a stamp of her love

whatever happens happens

2009-01-24T12:46:00.000-08:00

i attended a funeral this week of an elderly gentleman who was a distant relation to my husband. funerals are often difficult to bare whether you have an emotional bond to the person or not. unfortunately they tend to remind me of past funerals, darker days i never wish to revisit. that combined with the dress code requirements; girl clothes, make it an extremely uncomfortable experience. so, needless to say, i was not looking forward to going.

i did think of my father but surprisingly it really wasn't that horrible. the emotional backwash i was expecting never came. i was not overwhelmed with unresolved moments. instead i just remembered bits and pieces of past days without all the extras.

perhaps i am turning an emotional corner in my life.

the most unsettling thing to realized about my father was that even though he was a monster, child molesting, wife beating drunk, he wasn't that all the time. there are days and moments and memories that pop into my head that are pleasant and happy. why couldn't he just be a complete and total monster? why did he have to have a kind and gentle side? it was confusing to live with and i hated it. i wanted him to be a man or a monster but not a combination of both.

but i guess that's not human nature. we switch and swing with our moods and emotions
changing on a daily basis, some of us just have better control than others and just like all the other abusers in the world, it's the ones you least expect that hurt you the most.

i find myself wondering which parent was the biggest baddest monster living in my childhood house.

my father taught me the importance of controlling my emotions. in order to survive my childhood i found it necessary to be in complete and utter control of all my feelings and emotions. if any thing, either good or bad, like or dislike was revealed, it could and would be used against me.

my mother taught me that i should always put myself last. that i should never think of my feelings, my needs, and my desires first. everyone around me was more important, more valuable, more than myself.

i keep trying to hold on, to be more for my mother than what she was for me. but i feel i'm loosing my grip, i'm letting her slip through my finger.
i don't feel guilty. i don't feel conflicted. i don't feel bad for not being 'good' or doing the right thing. and for the first time in my life i don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks about how much i'm doing or not doing to help care for my mother.

i decided to allow my mother's life to finish just as it was lived. give it to God.
whatever happens happens.

whack a few balls

2009-01-18T23:16:00.000-08:00

i feel myself falling into my old hermit mode again, pulling away from all those nearest and dearest to me and trying to disconnect from everyone and everything. i did this the last time i got a job, my focus turned to the random strangers floating in and out of my life. is it bad to give so much to people that in a years from now will no longer be in my life? why are there so many miserable people in the world? why do i feel so compelled to try and make their life more enjoyable.

i should walk away. i should leave now but it's too late. they already like me and we all know how painfully dangerous that can be.

what the fuck is wrong with me?

nothing, i'm not going to fix myself anymore.
i'm just going to be who i am.

it's okay if i sit in mcdonalds for fifteen minutes and listen to a woman's life story while i drink a small coke. it's okay if a local pastor always gives me a brand 'new' pen that doesn't write. it okay if i allow myself to become entertained and mildly attached to all these nameless people.

maybe i'm not in a hermit mode, maybe i am just giving my time and energy away to strangers instead of sharing it with my friends and family. is it possible to go to work and just work? is it possible to not make emotional connections? i think if i stand stone faced and try not to talk while i work than i will end up just as sad and miserable as everyone else in the store.

that is not who i am. that is not who i want to be. i want to be happy and jolly and i want to enjoy the second half of my life at least twice as much as the first half.

i refuse to live (and die) like my parents: angry, miserable and unfinished.
i'm going to shoot targets at the range. i'm going to buy some golf clubs and whack a few balls. i'm going to learn how to dance. and i'm going to talk to all those strangers at work and give them all my very best.

what prompted all this? i had an angry customer screaming in my face a few nights ago. i don't react or respond well to anger. i never have. i guess the first thing i thought about when it happened was why am i here listening to this bitchy bitch? at first i didn't say anything to her at all. i just stood there and listened to her ranting. which made her even more angry. than i did the old "the customer is always right" route. which made her even more furious and made me think about quiting my job.

one angry bitch. am i really that weak inside?

enjoy the laughter

2009-01-14T21:51:00.000-08:00

i've been spending more time with my mom lately. some days are good and other days, like today, are just hilarious. i keep waiting for chevy chase to pop out of the background and shout "cut! great job people, that's a wrap".

last week i took her shopping, dragged her around while i picked out which box of cereal would best fit in my pantry. my husband and i had a little squabble over nothing minutes before i was to go meet with my mother so i was not in the best of moods. i am certain that i was pissy and rude almost the entire time i was with her and of course i didn't explain why my mood was sour. so while driving her back to her apartment i felt overwhelming burst of guilt for being in a nasty mood. we were only together for a few hours. i should be more tolerant. i should be more understanding. i should be more....
she was babbling and i was just nodding my head and not really listening to anything she was saying. she was talking about her car, how she needed to go to the car wash, wash her windows, than the long story spilled out...
on my last day off i decided to wash my car windows, they were filthy. so bad that i could hardly see through them when i'm driving. so i took my windex and my paper towels outside and started spraying and wiping down the windows, i did the front windshield and both sides before i realized it wasn't my car...
what?!!? omg! what?
yeah, can you believe it? well by the time i realized it wasn't my car i was almost done. so i figured, what the hell, might as well do the whole damn thing. so i did. man those windows looked good too. can you believe i wasted all my paper towels on my neighbors car? didn't have any left for my car windows. and of course she never noticed a thing, the damn birds shit so much, it's impossible to keep the cars clean anyways, i don't know why i bother.

she laughed the entire time she was telling me this story. than she laughed about laughing, said she could really believe what she had done, and laughing was better than crying. when i pulled up in front of her apartment she pointed out the car she mistook for her own.

OMG! it was nothing like her car. it wasn't even the same size, shape or color! completely different make and model!

today she just received her first social security check. we talked about the next step in her retirement goals. she was happy, seems comfortable with the plans of no longer working. we said good bye and hung up the phone.

she calls me back five minutes later and tells me happy birthday.
what? mom, my birthday was last week, you came to my house, we had pizza and beer together.

my mother has misremembered almost every unpleasant or painful event in our life together. why should now be any different? she is aware of what she is loosing, that her mind, her memories, are slowly slipping away.

my older sister feels sad for her; sorrow and pity. i honestly don't know what i feel. mostly i am impatient, irratated, and angry. i don't know who is more confused by my lack of empathy, my mother or myself. for now my mother chooses to laugh at her mindless mishaps and i will continue to laugh with her. what else is there to do?

so like my mother, i will let everything else roll away and enjoy the laughter.

2009-01-04T22:19:00.000-08:00

life is just a blur most days. some how i let myself get lost in the minute details and can't focus on the big picture. and even though i realize this i still, day after day, year after year, continue to repeat the journey. perhaps i still hope for miracles, that things will change in my life, that i will be more than what and who i am today.

have i lived to my full potential? have i given enough to the world? have i made it a better place for myself and my family to live in?

my new years resolutions was never to make another new years resolutions again. i'm not going to lose weight. i'm not going to diet. that would require eating less and exercising more. i like food. i'm flabby. fuck it.

change must be welcomed and embraced, not rejected and shunned. i'm climbing to a new plato in my life. for the first time, i can't see ahead, i don't have a purpose or a clue where i will end up or whom i will be meeting once i arrive. does that make sense? that since i was a small child i plotted my life course to a certain point, all my energy, time, focus was set upon surviving, overcoming my childhood abuse and not allowing it to negatively effect my future children. but i never dreamed of what would happen beyond that. what would happen once they were adults and living their own lives.

at first i was overcome with fear and i had a horrible sense of displacement. a fish out of water, what do i do now? i don't have a career, i have no technical skills other than toilet washing and g baking cookies, so what is there for me to do? i have to have a reason, i have to have a purpose for existing, i have to have a spiritual, mental, and/or emotional goal i am striving for.
when i was a child i prayed for strength, wisdom and understand. what child asks god for world peace and a sex change? now i think the peoples of this world will never stop fighting each other, i'm finally comfortable in my own flabby skin.

i'm happy with my choices i've made thus far. i am exactly the person i was born to become. my potential, like everyone, is only limited when i make it so. i decided to no longer be displaced and lost without set goals and guidelines, i decided to change direction by having no direction at all. i decide to stop trying to fix my inner child and just set her free.

today is my friends birthday. blessings to her, today, tomorrow, and always.
touch my soul, nic

wishful

2008-12-14T22:43:00.000-08:00

i've been working so much i've had little to no time for writing. i wish i made enough money to be a super santa and buy buy buy every and anything for everyone of my family and friends. it would be so cool ( the bomb ) to be rich in december.
dream the impossible dream.

today was my sister's birthday. i hope she had a great day. she works so hard and stresses so much on a daily basis... i wish she could relax and enjoy life more.

i'm so wishful today. emotionally too. i cried when i filled out her birthday card. i don't know what's wrong with me. maybe nothing, maybe it's just life, maybe it's just age. all my gray hairs and wrinkles, sags and bags catching up with me.
i guess i have been feeling old...er than i normally do.
i suppose that means i do feel older today than i did yesterday.
i guess i feel like i'm running out of time to make all my dreams become reality. has anyone ever done that before? or am i just dreaming the impossible dream?

my dream? to be rich enough to help make all my family and friends dreams come true, enrich their lives and make their current existence more comfortable and rewarding.
so let me wave my magic wand and say to all
peace to you, celebrate life, reward yourself, and please enjoy your day.
blessings to all this holiday season.

let it snow!

2008-12-10T21:02:00.000-08:00

the last two nights have been amazing, incredible, spec-fucking-tactular!
last night after dinner i went to the gun range and shot a 9mm. i just imagined my paper target man had vampire fangs on it and i fired away. the next time i go, i am so bring a red sharpe marker with me. can you imagine what all those city rednecks will say when they see my paranormal paper target?

bang bang bang
it was so cool, such a power rush, i loved, loved, loved it!
i came home and told my daughter i had to wash the gsr off my hands.

my husband and i are going to share a handgun for christmas. i told him he could pick out the first gun, that way if i get bored or disinterested with shooting ( right!) than he would still have a hand gun that he enjoyed. which really means, he gets to keep our cheap starter gun, as long as i get my browning baby!

my husband, son, future brother-inlaw, future son in law and current brother inlaw, plus nephews all shoot skeet. i'm going to try that as well. the shotguns that they shoot are way to big for me. i would land in the mud on my ass if i used their weapons. however they do make a small kids shotgun; a 410 or a 20 gage. my son told me that his friends have them for shooting small critters. i do not plan on shooting any small helpless animals, but i will shoot clay flying saucer out of the sky.

and tonight? the most amazing thing happened. it snowed. it's been snowing for hours. there is about 6inches on snow covering my entire backyard right now. unbelievible! the last time my niece visited us for the holidays was in 2004, and guess what, it snowed than too! before that it's been about 15 years since it snowed here.

the weather outside is frightful, and my dear you're so delightful, since there's no place to go,
let it snow , let it snow, let it snow.

wow! i sound just like dean martin on the internet!

free ride

2008-11-23T20:10:00.000-08:00

my feet hurt all the way up to my ass. man am i out of shape! good thing i didn't accept the truck unload er job, i would probable be in traction by now. but it's not all bad. i enjoy talking to the random strangers, i try to make them laugh or at the least smile. some people are more challenging than others. it helps to pass the time and it keeps me from being a complete hermit.

i still suck with my phone.
i hate when the phone rings in my car.
lets face it, i'm not the best driver in the world. lately i feel as if i have a 'slight' case of adult a.d.d. , i get distracted , have difficultly staying focused, so talking on the cell phone while driving is not a good thing for me. plus my super espn2 powers tell me that every car on the road is participating in a destruction derby and i have a giant bulls-eye painted on my bumper.

my fear and phobia of driving on the interstate, highway, freeway......

inside a moving automobile is sometimes uncomfortable for me. it is an odd and some what embarrassing phobia. tis difficult to describe or explain verbally. what happens inside my head, what goes through my mind, what keeps me from the access roads and entrance ramp....

fear, anxiety, panic.
the memories flood my mind.
i remember....
countless trips to nowhere with my father. we traveled every freeway together. he made up any excuse, spoke every unbelievable reason, detailing where he had to go, why i had to go with him.

most times he was drunk. if he didn't have a beer he stopped to buy some for the road. the bed of the old truck was littered with empty cans, an open can in the drink holder. back when, the police pulled us over, always let us go.

i learned early how to navigate the big city. when i was young, it was dangerous being trapped in the truck with him. sometimes my father would drive aimlessly for hours, other times he would park. if i knew where i was he couldn't bullshit me about how long it would take to get back home. everything was a negotiation. everything was a trade off. there was no such thing as a free ride home.

and now?
i don't drive down those roads anymore.
i already paid the toll.

2008-11-21T19:12:00.000-08:00

my mind has been littered with trash for days.
i need to recycle my thoughts,
dump the garbage.

i haven't spoken to my oldest sister in a few years. she moved to canada to marry my mother's brother. when we do speak again, i'm uncertain what i should call her? aunt sister? sister aunt? fucking bitch!

they look like brother and sister, uncle and niece, husband and wife....
why did she have to marry my uncle? she could have married anyone of any race, creed or sex.
what made her fall madly in love with a blood relative?

is this just another one of those little things that i'm suppose to forgive and forget? one of those events that if i don't grant forgiveness for, if i don't 'give it to god', than i will not be granted access into the kingdom of heaven and will burn for all eternity in the pit of hell?

fuck that and fuck all the retarded perverts in my family!

we were suppose to be the generation of children that broke the chain of abuse. we were suppose to grow up and grow old and not continue the horrid family traditions.

a better life, a brighter world...

we almost made it. we did grow up, we did grow older...

why am i clouded with this now? my niece is coming for a month long visit with the son. it would impossible to avoid the subject of her mother for that entire time, especially with my mother being ill. things are going to come up.

i don't want to hear about how blissfully happy my sister aunt is being married to my uncle brother-in-law.

so since my sister is my aunt, my uncle is my brother-inlaw, what does that make my niece? is she my niece cousin? what about her relationship to her mother? is my sister aunt now her mother great aunt? is my uncle brother-inlaw now her great uncle stepdad?

maybe my niece cousin would like to give her mother great aunt and her great uncle stepdad a family tree for christmas.

lucky

2008-11-20T21:32:00.000-08:00

it's late,
minutes away from another days passing.
tally up another,
hope it was meaningful, hope i made this one count for something.
parts of it were rather dull, boring as hell really,
but still.....

my neighbor apologized to me about my rock this morning, which was nice. my husband made a movie of my two nieces for my sister as a christmas present, and i spent the entire day sitting on my horrible uncomfortable desk chair filling out online job applications for my mom-in-law. my daughter hugged me, my son called home with good news, i made my sister laugh on the phone after a 14 hour work day, i fed my cat and my dog, and if i hurry i still may get lucky before my husband falls to sleep...

sweet dreams

double click

2008-11-19T21:15:00.000-08:00

if i take the adult content warning off my blog will i still be able to type the word fuck?
it's a valid question. it's my favorite word. it's so versatile. but isn't the warning annoying? wtf? yes, of course it's annoying! i am annoyed with it and it's my freaking blog. it's just one more double click action...
is there a help page?
if all else fails read the directions,
some assembly may be required,

i think this is what happened to me and myspace.
i spent hours and hours sending random superpets hugs out into internet space. new apps, new wallpaper, new songs, new pictures, new dancing cursors. there is just no end to the quest of the perfect space. it's a constant work in progress. the webpage jigsaw puzzle project that is impossible to complete. i became lost, trapped inside this alternate webworld of beautiful flashing bulletins and sparkling fonts of apps and apps-holes.

hello my name is nic, i'm a myspace addicted.

concrete karma

2008-11-18T22:17:00.001-08:00

i live in a concrete jungle. all the rolling hills i see are man made concrete overpasses running along miles and miles of chemical plants. the refinery lights are so bright, it's never dark in my city. the smoke stack flames reflect an orange glow across the clouds as they blanket the sky, hiding almost all the night stars from view. If you care to take a drive and cross the concrete bridges, you would think it was christmas, no matter the time of year, there are miles and miles of lights, as far as the eyes can see. concrete streets, concrete parking lots, concrete buildings,
all the concrete walls start to close in on you from time to time.
i live here because this is where my family lives. i live here because this is where my husband's family lives. my ugly city is beautiful because the people make it home.

My husband and i try to get away as often as we can. i love nature and the great outdoors. i enjoy collecting seashells when we journey to a beach, collecting sticks or a twig when we hike through the woods, and collecting rocks when exploring a canyon road.

my son is attending texas tech college, it was only natural for us to take a little side trip to a nearby state park. while hiking city style (that's driving really, really slow with the windows rolled down) we came across a rather spectacular rock. a beautiful white and pink-ish shade about this size of a bowling ball. Lucy and Desi, together again! my husbands eyes all but bugged out of his head when i told him i wanted that rock. but he stopped the car and popped the trunk for me. it was perfect. i had a vision when i saw the pink bowling ball rock: it belonged in Granny's flower garden.

once home, i washed my rock. silly boys! every girl knows rocks are dirty and need to be cleaned before you put them into a flower garden! i sprayed my new treasure with the water hose and left it out to dry in the sun, hoping it would still sparkle and shine in the concrete city just like it did out in the wild canyon.

well, today when i came home from work, my rock was gone. i asked my husband if he moved my rock. no. he didn't move it. i asked my daughter if she moved my rock. no, she didn't move my rock. the neighbor kids were out running around so we asked them about it.

yeah, they took my rock.
their dad was replacing their back fence that was destroyed by hurricane ike. he needed some rocks to mix with the concrete for his new fence posts.
my new neighbors smashed my rock, mixed it with concrete and set his back fence posts.
it was just a rock, he didn't think it was important.

i couldn't believe it. what? what? you did what with my pretty pink and white bowling ball sized rock that we drove 12 hours one way to......ohh... find?
is this karma?

my stolen property got stolen!

ten seconds ago

2008-11-16T21:56:00.000-08:00

i made a big decision ten seconds ago. thought i would document it, get it down on web paper, and hopeful it will stick. my decision was that i am going to write on this blog everyday. even if it's only one sentence, which is what?, three words. i can do that. i will do that. it doesn't have to be spectacular.

all my adoring fans will be happy with anything.

i know, i know what your thinking. it was the 'all my adoring fans part' that got you wondering, is this bitch crazy or what? believe me you're not alone there, i have thought the same thing many a late nights just to wake up the next morn realizing that it was only temporary.

i wake sane to face another day.

i should have called my son today. i need to be more careful with him. i am trying to give him space, plenty of room to grow, after all, he is the bird that left the nest. but now i worry i've given him too much space...

i can't believe i got a job. i don't know what my remote control will do without me all day long. oh well, my new cable box sucks anyways. i still don't have all my programs set correctly for recording. plus the picture keeps breaking up into little squares and freezes for several seconds at the most dramatic time in the show, than it blips back to life, skipping ahead, and i miss again.

am i inside a cable box?
freezing up,
breaking apart,
blipping back to life
wondering what the hell i missed.
it's not true, of course not,
this is just one of those crazy random thought that you have in the wee hours of the morn. you can't miss what you never had. the life i never had will never be missed. or so i use to believe, now i'm not so sure anymore.

i have trust issues. i just need to start trusting myself.
my children love me,
my husband loves,
my sisters love me,
my mom's love me,
my family and my friends love me.

god blessed me, and because of them all, tomorrow i will wake sane.

old shoes

2008-10-30T21:26:00.000-07:00

yesterday i spent part of the day with my mother. lately it's become increasing difficult for me to visit with her. i find that i am no longer comfortable making small talk. i just ask her what she needs, because she always needs. making only a minimal effort, doing only a fraction of what i use to do for her. i just don't have it in me any longer to take care of her.

morally i am conflicted by this. i want to take care of her. just because she was a horrible mother doesn't mean i have to be a horrible daughter. children are suppose to take care of their parents in the latter part of their lives. it's part of the life cycle. but she's only 65. she's to young to be this old.

God help me.
i can't get past it. i can't get over it. i can't go around it. it's just there, like the berlin wall, it needs to come down. i don't know what to say to her or how to say it. am i bold enough to speak the ugly truth.

she has never accepted any responsibility for my childhood abuse. because she was a battered wife, brutally abused by her husband, she classified herself as a victim. i remember having conversations with her when i was a small child, trying to comfort her, telling her not to worry, when i grew up, i would take care of her.

now my mother is in the early stages of Alzheimer's.
now that she honestly and truly needs me to take care of her, i just don't think i can do it.

it would be okay if she was only remembering her life, her childhood memories, but she is not.
she's like a walking detonator, every time she opens her mouth, she sets off an emotional bomb inside of me.

i survived my childhood, you know. i lived through it. i was proud of myself for that. no matter what was said or what was done to break me, i survived and i didn't break.

i grew up, i got married and raised my children the way i wanted to be raised. and i'd have given up my life and my soul to protect my babies, my beautiful children, anything to provide them with a happy, healthy, abuse free environment to grow up in.

isn't it basic human nature to want to provide better for your children than what was provided for you?

now, here i sit, staring into my mother's glazed eyes, with her child-like expression, flashing back to the past, and worrying about the near future. Her mind will slowly fade away. if i don't ask my questions now i'll never be able to. i doubt she will be honest. it's not in her nature to accept responsibility for the choices she has made.

for my entire life i could hear her voice ringing in my ears, "don't judge, put yourself in my shoes..."

so here i am, just like a good little girl, sifting through the dust and debris, searching that closet full of skeletons for my mother's old shoes.

i wonder if she ever thought to try on a pair of my sister's or mine?

20 years to life...

2008-10-28T22:01:00.000-07:00

i had to replace my dvr yesterday. ever since hurricane ike it has been humming all day and all night long. it would have been alright but the pitch was off. i like music but this was just noise. So as much as i hated to do it, i sat in the car and waited while my husband stood in line for an hour at our local cable company for a new box.

well, once you get the thing home, a new box means you have to go through the entire ordeal of reprogramming all your favorites.
right, so again, more waiting...

anywho, it was finally my turn for the remote. i'm going through the guide, searching for my shows; bones, fringe, csi, dexter, chuck, etc...
you know the drill. it does take a bit of time. well, while i was scrolling through the menus my husband became involved in this show; intervention. i've seen a few episodes of this program before, watched it with my son, didn't care for it much.
but it was too late for me to flip the channel.

it started out ok, some young guy, wealthy parents, he drank too much...
but the second story was horrific. a beautiful young woman in pre-law, great gpa, brilliant future ahead, hooked up with the wrong guy and started using inhalants.

i knew the story. i knew the 'why' before the narrator finished the introductions. the family photos gave it away, plus the long list of her symptoms. drug abuse, loose reckless relationships with older men, she was a cutter....

i knew in those first few minutes of the program that i should have just gotten up and walked away. i should have gone into my room, taken a shower, gotten ready for bed. something, anything other than to just sit there and watch this young woman's story on what led her down the path to rock bottom.
i knew, fuck me, i knew.
so, why did i sit and watch her?

as usual, i had to prove to myself i was strong. i had to know i could sit and watch some stranger dealing with similar issues i've been struggling to overcome my entire life.
i refused to crumble, i didn't break, and i only allowed two maybe three tears to escape throughout the entire story. bully for me.
it was horrific.
all the shit i remember. comparing the strangers life and family to mine. comparing her sisters to mine. her relationships to mine. at one point in the show i wanted to scream at the woman for being so weak.

which is absolutely heartless of me.

but i understood completely, i knew why she chose to exist the way she was.
after all, it could have been me.
i could have been a drug addicted, rage filled, mother hating, self abusive cutter, sugar daddy boarder-line hooker girl.
that would have been easy, to fall into that lifestyle, let myself drop to the ground, kicking and screaming, and just give up on everything.
i fight that feeling all the time.
i'm still fighting it.
i want drugs, now, today.
just give me any fucking thing to make the memories go away.
but i can't.
i'm to old and fat to become an drug addicted hooker now. i let myself go. don't have that hot body i once had.

besides, what would my future grandchildren think?

see, that attitude has been both my blessing and my curse. i have worried endless what the world would think, say, react, and or respond to my words and actions.

guilt
shame
the ugly truth

the young woman on intervention, she was sexually molested as a child by a male family member. she watched her sister being molested by the same male relative. she told her mother. her mother didn't believe her at first. she told her grandmother , her uncle, enough family members until the secret was out. they went through a long ugly court trail. they lost. the male family member walked away clean. the trial divided the family, half believed the children, half did not. they never said who the male was, probable could not legally say on national television. the little girls grew up and became the stars of an episode on intervention.

why is it that the abuser walks away to abuse another day while the child victim is sentenced 20 years to life...

today

2008-10-27T14:46:00.000-07:00

Who can really say what happened. i know i can't. i thought i found an old blog of mine, instead i created a new one. that's just part of being middle aged. i'm not so old i can't figure out certain high tech gizmos but i'm old enough that i need a ten year old to translate everything for me. so i guess the name of my new blog page is " a new day" ? not exactly what i wanted but oh, well. it's not too bad. sorry Celine, didn't pick that on purpose.

my life is changing, as most tend to do. i guess i've been feeling funky about the new transitions. i've always sorted out my feeling, worked out my issues by writing things down on paper. something about the process helps me heal.
so...
fyi. i can't spell, type and my grammer would make any 1st grade english teacher pull a few blue hairs out of her beehive.
maybe this will be interesting reading, maybe not.
read me, don't read me.
i don't give a fuck.
i'm just writing to drain my brain about issues i never speak aloud.

if i can figure out how, i'm going to rename my blog.