dedication

"wish I was as dedicated as you..."

"Yeah, well, I dunno...the things that motivate me, um, fitting in my clothes, being healthy and sexy...and being ready to throw down if I have too..."

"like you would ever have to do that!"

"you never know--one should be ready for anything." ;)

Had a nice conversation about it all.

After, "Do we need to talk about this?"

there were a few signs, I suppose...

Me wanting to kill, my weepiness over the smallest things, my fierce desire to get fit, my inquiry about birthdays, or my blogs?

YUP--a few clues.

Feel better, now.

Still don't like it, but the warning has been given.

"I understand moreso than anyone the depth of your relationship with her, and I know you like chatting with her. And I don't think you realize the amount of influence she has over you. I also trust you, but, I don't think any guy given a certain set of circumstances who finds himself caught in a situation would be able to resist, and I know she would be willing to get you there. The trouble is, once she had you, she would simply drop you again, and leave you once again. If anything happens, I don't care what the situation looked like, was, whatever, I will walk away and never come back, understand that. I have been cheated on by every man I have ever been with. I don't have the ability to react any other way."

I told my bff, "I am tempted to tell him, 'just act like you like her again, so she will go away.'"

I did say it...can't resist anymore the ability to be heard.

I was listened to, and I appreciated that sooo much. I hope all goes well from here forward. I was promised we wouldn't go to the party even if invited. That was somewhat of a relief.

I was glad to get to say too the "what if I were counselling, visiting, chatting?"

"I only stopped by that once..."

I guess I did keep from showing my annoyance with that pretty well. He didn't realize that at all.

He didn't realize I had cried quietly into my pillow over it several times. That bothered him the most, that I didn't show I was upset, or talk about it.

I explained, "I have to sort it all out first. That is why I blog. I don't want to react to emotion and just be some crazy nagging girl. I have to work it through logically, and then talk about it when I can stay calm and talk without raising my voice, or bursting into tears."

PLEASE let this all settle and be laid to rest, please...

a little says alot

"Happy 32. I have to say...early thirties are the beginning of becomming wiser in your choices, attitudes and relationships. Good luck in all of those. I hope you are able to choose well."

her birthday represents to me soooo very much...

Experience can never be swayed by argument.

Never argue opinion.

You can never change people.

Wisdom is better than gold.

Realize your weaknesses only then can you learn how to compensate for them.

That that don't kill me
will make me stronger.

Wouldn't you hate it too?

Yes, I think you would...

If you knew I was chatting.

If some guy told me all his personal woes.

If I stopped by HIS house...

What if I informed him about my latest dress purchase, how then would you feel?

What if I played HIS counsellor, mmm?

You would hate it too.

Hell, you wouldn't stand for it, you would murder them, fret over it, be enraged
you know it is true...
But for goose is no matter,
for gander, she'd rue.

stitched...not healed

"What is that again? Your tatoo?"

"It is a stitched up broken heart."

My friends are my stitches.

You have to remember...my broken heart is stitched up, not healed up.

Never has been, never will.

It simply bleeds more or less per amount of stitches that remain.

May they all remain.

Happy, Happy Birthday, baby...

"Yeah, she called me the other day and told me she was buying a little red dress for her birthday party."

Platonic response from me...

Blog later..."Thought of something...red dress great...doesn't show blood stains as easily..."

Say to my BFF-and dear sister, "Yeah, makes me want to go get a new do, tan up, and where red lingerie with a water bra underneath and my porn heels to her party!"

Sissy's response, "Yes ma'am! Red is always a good color to wear when a little action is about to unfold. You know whether it is STABBING SOME SKANKY WHORE IN THE EYE WITH A SERRATED PITCHFORK or engaging in hot, kinky...well you know...Red will bring out more of that raging FIRE, and when BOTH actions are completed (while still wearing your red of course) reguardless of which one you perform first--in the end there will be triumph-Victory and complete SATISFACTION! So, there you have it my friend.It is a win, win, I would definately go with RED!"

LOL--I love her!

Ah, yes...I have decided. I shall be nice. (Or so I promise...)

Of course, I decide that on a daily after each violent daydream.

I ask God to forgive me...

I try not to be so goofy.

I mentioned the other day, "You know, I really wish I didn't have a conscience. I wish I could so easily go around hurting, toying with others and not give a damn about their feelings or how my actions affect others around me."

I said to another..."you know, its a funny thing, I have never liked the idea of sharing my man with someone else...never."

I told someone a long time ago..."I am an only child...I don't share well."

You consider it.

Drunk together alone at the riverfront...strike one...

Stopped by her house while driving thru one day...strike two...

"It really hurts me that she is so able to turn your head the way she does..."
"Oh, you have nothing to worry about, don't you even think that anyone can ever take me away from you--you just need to stop worrying, honey."

--Summed up..."I don't really give a damn about how me having a relationship with her makes you feel. Get over it."

Makes me wonder...if I went to a counsellor, what would he/she advise, mmm?

"If it bothers you and that is not important to him, do you feel you will be able to accept that and live with it as your relationship continues, or not?"

Strike three or not. We will see...if I decide so, then, Happy, Happy Birthday Baby here is your man-toy you wanted...all yours to break to pieces as you please.

And he can have his eye-candy in her little red dress...wtf-ever!

Even Achilles

Even heros have their weakness.

As strong as we are, as happy, as fun, we each have an Achilles heel.

Only one threatens Shangri-la.

Only one persisitently beckons and calls.

The other is good enough to remain silent and away.

I don't pursue, or reach out.

But you still feel the need, it is the only chink in our armor.

The one thing that could make us fall.

I focus on the happy, the love and fun.

My heart's blood oozes bleeding with each passing beat.

It skips as I hear of conversations, as I continue to fear.

I grasp every moment in a panic, like each is the last straw.

I know I can't fix, control, don't have any right whatsoever to cry out "STOP! Please stop...!"

I have to allow what I hate, let happen events that fall into place, let go if I must, shut up to keep from pushing you far.

The whole while focusing only forward and not in reverse.

I try to stifle fantasies of murder. Especially because I know I would follow through.

Why should I be like this...after-all been there done that both sides.

Guess this is the first time in a long time I have actually cared if the worst happened. I had given up when I was left before, and this time, well, I don't want to. I feel if I handle it right, if I do things just so, everything will be okay this time. Don't repeat the mistakes of trying to stop it, or fighting over it, or overcompensating for it.

Just act as if everything is okay, right?! That should do it, right?

One can only hope.

I see the weakness, I know it is real. You are blind, my darlin, you think you are a fortress. Others have thought that before. Never believe you are more than you really are, you cannot stand.

When you acknowledge and accept your weakness, you guard yourself from attack. You sheild yourself from the enemy. You don't chat with it every day.

Sigh. Not each and every day...

At first, yeah, I was jealous, I wanted to have that freedom too. I wanted to converse with, laugh with, enjoy my weakness too.

But reason works me over.

Reality sees me through.

What I have is so precious.

What I have is like fine wine.

Don't drop this vintage bottle. It's glass is weak from aging, its molecules broken down. Please don't make me shatter, please don't waste the wine. It is all I have, it is the best of its kind.

Your words build me up like a princess, your actions knock me down.

I go for silver linings, but the lightning may just strike us.

For now, I will hold out...for now, I will hold on.

why does it affect me? it shouldn't

How is it, songs, pictures, memories, passing thoughts, can affect a person so?

I am happy, yet, I am very, very sad.

I am content and cozy, yet I am still shaken.

I am wary, I feel uneasy, I am unsure and worried.

What on earth do I have to worry about?!

Life is better, much better than it would have been. The drama, I can just imagine, ak!

Why then does it bother me, so...

I do not like it, no not one bit.

the end.

So you think you can out do me?

Okay folks...here is the deal.

I am doing weight watchers...

Suddenly, someone else not only takes interest in how I am coming along...(like you can't read the status and blogs on myspace...but whatever.)

Suddenly, someone else posts that they are going for their morning walk...heh.

There is a major flaw in your plan, honey...I stick with shit, YOU DON'T!

I have yet to see one ounce of consistency in you, whether it is on your views on marriage, fair-weather friendship, or your level of integrity (off work for a fractured tail-bone...but walkin...)

If there is one thing I am good at, it is the long haul...(only time I give up is when it truly is not worth trying anymore whatsoever, and there is not one chance in two billion it will change)

What you broke, I mended. What you tore, I patched. What you abandoned, I rescued. And he did the same for me. FAT FUCKING CHANCE, BITCH!!! While I have breath, you will not succeed a second time around!

There would only be one thing that would save you. If he chose you instead. Then, only then would I let that be the end, I would let him go with you, and be hurt once again, but I would not ever return.

Yeah, I worry. Yeah, I know your power over him, I undersand it first hand. You would think I would be more forgiving. I find instead I plan your untimely death.

Just being honest.

Wish you would just forget it. Forget your play toy. FIND A NEW ONE FOR GOD'S SAKE! You seem confident enough that it is not difficult for you to sway the opposite sex's attention.

It is more fun to find people you can control, isn't it. That was the only reason you were with LAME-O BOY for as long as you were.

Just as soon as he is gone, who do you call--MY MAN?! I don't think so! Call your Best Friend---Oh, that's right, you pissed her off too.

Burning bridges is going to make it hard to get around eventually. No man is an island, but soon I hope you will be.

Remember turtle won the race, not rabbit. I won while you were sleeping. You don't stand a chance against me.

You argue, I don't.

You try to control, I don't.

You are crazy dishonnest, I like honnest myself.

You consistently are inconsistant.

I am tenatiously consistent.

You love drama, I am all about keepin the peace...

HMPH! HANDS DOWN, BABY--DON'T EVEN TRY IT...

YOU WILL NOT WIN

Back Jack

So, here I is again...

Life going along well...

Stressful at times...

Weird momentary encounters at others...

Finally getting thinner, lovin weight watchers!

Might get rewarded for hard work...heh might, we will see...

Still wishin life didn't separate you from people you enjoyed knowing...

Glad to have the wonderful people in my life that stick close to me!

I am fearful of next year. My dear Dianne's disease is progressing, and I beg God to save her. :(

Otherwise, still put, putting along...

blogging

Don't get here that often, but when I do it is nice...

Like a warm sudsy bubblebath with sweet smelling oil and just the right temp.

Facinating who reads them.

You find often the friends who really worry about you most...read about your days.

Won't be back for a while.

I will find something poetic and beautiful to leave rememberence of me.

Sometime...not now.

I have had moments of sitting lonely in a cold hard tub.

Warm enveloping baths with wine on the menu.

And re-occuring dreams, odd rememberences at unusual moments.

I have fought through temperments and ridicule.

I have re-established I am no genius, but I am a thinker.

I see me slowly continually taking my life where I want it to be.

More trips to the library, park, walking, eating trying in many ways to be

More Healthy.

And I will be.

I am not the sprinter, I am the marathon runner.

I work through the pain of endurance, the stamina of continuance, and the streangth of accomplishment.

I will continue every day to try to be a better me. Reguardless, you will find me tomorrow, accepting, giving grace and generally attempting jovility and love towards all who mean so much to me, and even to those that don't...golden rule, you know, must be upheld and respected irreguardless of the baseness of the person.

Life's hardest, simplest little lesson. Taught no less in kindergarten. Heh, figures doesn't it?

SON OF A BITCH FISH.

The parish priest went on a fishing trip.

On the last day of his trip he hooked a monster fish and proceeded to reel it in.

The guide, holding a net, yelled, 'Look at the size of that Son of a Bitch!'

'Son, I'm a priest. Your language is uncalled for!'

'No, Father, that's what kind of fish it is - a Son of a Bitch fish!'

'Really? Well then, help me land this Son of a Bitch!'

Once in the boat, they marveled at the size of the monster.

'Father, that's the biggest Son of a Bitch I've ever seen'

'Yes, it is a big Son of a Bitch. What should I do with it?'

'Why, eat it! Of course. You've never tasted anything as good as Son of a Bitch!'

Elated, the priest headed home to the rectory.

While unloading his gear and his prize catch, Sister Mary inquired about his trip.

'Take a look at this big Son of a Bitch I caught!'

Sister Mary gasped and clutched her rosary, 'Father!'

'It's OK, Sister. That's what kind of fish it is, a Son of a Bitch fish!'

'Oh, well then, what are you going to do with that big Son of a Bitch?'

Sister Mary informed the priest that the new Bishop was scheduled to visit
in a few days and that they should fix the Son of a Bitch for his dinner.

'I'll even clean the Son of a Bitch', she said.

As she was cleaning the huge fish, the Friar walked in.

'What are you doing Sister?'

'Father wants me to clean this big Son of a Bitch for the new Bishop's Dinner'

'Sister! I'll clean it if you're so upset! Please watch your language!'

'No, no, no, it's called a Son of a Bitch Fish.'

'Really? Well, in that case, I'll fix up a great meal to go with it,
and that Son of a Bitch can be the main course!

Let me know when you've finished cleaning that Son of a Bitch.'

On the night of the new Bishop's visit, everything was perfect.
The Friar had prepared an excellent meal.

The wine was fine, and the fish was excellent.

The new Bishop said, 'This is great fish, where did you get it?'

'I caught that Son of a Bitch!' proclaimed the proud priest..

'And I cleaned the Son of a Bitch!' exclaimed the Sister.

The Friar added, 'And I prepared the Son of a Bitch, using a special recipe!

The new Bishop looked around at each of them.

A big smile crept across his face as he said,

'You fuckers are my kind of people!

How I roll

Check it out.

I go to a riverfront get together for a man's birthday who talks bad about me, and everybody else, behind our backs. (I laid into him just last week about it, and of course, now we are face-front friends...)

I sit by the girl my man onced named his anam cara. (She keeps in contact with him on myspace, invites him to all the outings she goes to, etc...) I kiss my man good-bye, and leave him at the riverfront to drink beside her...

I get up to leave as the fellow who knows my story comes up to celebrate. ( I tell him since he is here, I have to leave...yet, he is on my favorite people list...)

I go home after cussing like a sailor, and pretend to be sober and innocent in front of my pentacostal parents.

I talk nicely to, and wave ever so friendly at the fellow who tried to get my man fired.

I laugh and joke with a fellow at work, who makes me want to vomit.

I politely say, "Hello." everyday, to the bitch that started the fellow on the path to trying to get my man fired.

I smile at my former boss, who hates my guts.

I play "nicey-nice" to a gal who acts like I do nothing all day, and says so, I am sure when I am out of ear-shot.

I converse, and "get along" with my annoying ex.

All I can say is, my,my,my,my,my,my,my, my poker face...

Who owns what!

The earth does not belong to humans, humans belong to the earth...

hmmm.

The inhabitants belong to the house? (The inhabitants are required,
by the way to care for it, work to pay for it, clean it, etc...if they wish to
benefit from it.) Do the inabitants belong to an inanimate
object?

(I was already in a foul mood when I got home today, that was the icing on the cake.
I am all for taking care of the earth, doing our part, thinking green.)

The earth can survive past and without any human existance and/or interferrence,
just as we humans are intelligent enough to find survival without this planet.

(Not that it wouldn't be horridly difficult, seeing as how
evolution has provided such a perfect set of circumstances...)

The earth does not take care of us...in fact we have to work pretty damn hard to survive on this
earth. Food has to be raised and cultivated and stored. Shelter has to be contstructed and
maintained. Clothing and shoes have to be worn to protect us when we are out and about on this
our Mother Earth...

I purport to announce that the earth neither belongs to humans, nor the humans to the earth. We
co-exist, each trying to survive what devistation the other creates. In the end, the earth would
win. Anything humans do to hurt the earth only hurts ourselves. We do not belong to it, and we
cannot own it.

What a ridiculous bumper sticker.

If she were gone tomorrow...

My dear Dianne.
She was the most beautiful woman I ever met. Her sense of humor was amazing, and ridiculously funny.
She could love more deeply than was humanly possible. My closest sister, my friend, my dear Dianne.
Her presence calming, her elegance unmatched. I have never seen anyone who could work all night and
go all the next day with such radiance and strength.
If you needed someone to be there, if you needed a friend and a close companion, she was the very
definition. There was no one in the world like my dear Dianne.
There are so many ugly things in this world. Greed, hate, disease, and heartache, just to name a few.
But my Dianne countered those things with her very being. She was more generous than I could ever
think to be. Generous with everything. Her money, her time and her support. She fought hate with a passion.
She suffered quietly with disease, and no one would know her misery. Her heart bled of sorrow, but she
would never cease to smile.
My dear Dianne would sit and quietly cry in the dark shadows of the night. She could not bear the thought
of causing hurt to those dear to her. So she kept it to herself.
So beautiful, my dear Dianne.
I miss her so deeply, with every ounce of my soul. I cannot name the times she gave me hope, inspiration, and
helped me through. I felt her heart break. I heard her voice shake. I saw the sadness behind the twinkle
in those shining eyes.
She was a better woman than I have ever seen. You cannot replace her, she was one of a kind. Priceless,
she was a treasure whose worth went far behond her laugh, her wit and her charm.
She would stay by you forever! She would never let you down! She would be your very own personal cheerleader.
If you needed pepped up, she would never fail to bring a smile!
I only wish you could have seen her, and known her like I did. Because not knowing my Dianne, never being loved
by her is like never having tasted what it is like to have a bosom friend. She would lay her life down gladly
for her friend, and for certain, there is no greater love.
If only you had known her, you would understand.
She was, more than any other, my hero to the end. My sweetest, long-lost sister. My friend, my dear Dianne.

The Plauge has lifted!

Giggle...

Well today was an absolute hoot!

I got to go around distributing flyers for the Relay for Life Bratwurst benefit lunch.

:D

You should have seen the way people looked at me. Too funny. All is well, several people signed up, and everyone seems to feel at ease to talk and joke with me again. Geeze.

The gal who cause all the rucuous at our plant two weeks ago had come up and appologized to me week before last.

"I just wanted a better working environment.", she told me after asking me not to hold hard feelings against her, that she didn't mean for it to turn out that way, and was crying to our plant manager about it the Monday morning following the whole ordeal... I, of course, told her it all worked out okay, I was fine, and that a better working environment wasn't too much to ask.

(I know better than to do anything that would be reguarded as mis-treatment, or retaliation toward her, so I play the game of 'nicey nice' and she is rendered helpless...)

What else I know...she didn't use the chain of command, but immediately hotlined.

HR didn't use a warning or coaching process. They just did interviews and then suspensions and a termination.

After that there were phone calls by the distraught employees from the plant about the termination to the hotline. Followed by more interviews, a ban on bandana sales for Relay for Life, a question about what was talked about by workers outside of work (against NLRA...) an imprisionment of 3 people for 3 hours because they had purchased bandanas (one of them 7 months pregnate), and a Spanish Inquisition of me and others as to why we were selling bandanas.

In the end, the corporate lawyers were flown in, the terminated employee re-instated, quickly I might add, and the other employees involved re-enstated and quietly transferred to other departments.

Sure has been nice to be back to normal and everything peaceful again.

I am waiting for HR to realize just one more thing--just how nuts the girl is who started it all...She will eventually snap with everyone treating her so well, and not doing anything she can report. Perhaps she will start making things up. That would be fun, wouldn't it? Heh, give those kinds of people an inch, where they think they have sooooo much power, they will try to take a mile and run out of road at the end of a cliff.

So, I bide my time till I get to LMAO...

The Plauge

Don't try this at work...

If you are genuinely a friendly person, and you get along pretty well with everyone, including the "office folks" don't try selling anything for charity at work.

Evidently because I sold red bandanas to help raise funds for Relay For Life, I am now 'off-limits'.

I was informed, that is solicitation.

Hmmm. Okay, look it up.

No solicitaion for everyones favorite cause during "working times".

I can see how that might have been a violation.

However, people sell girl scout cookies, bring in school fund raisers, hand out avon books, and sell plants and teddy bears....I have given to all of them.

Google it.

Ah, there it is, a policy that is not consistently enforced.

Interesting.

I am told "You cannot sell bandanas for now, until we review our policy on the proper way to get approval."

"Okie-dokie, just so ya know, they are having a bake sale tomorrow.", I politely inform them.

"We will be having a bake sale before work and during lunch tomorrow." is announced over the intercom shortly after my discussion.

I see, got that covered now. Someone else has been edjumacated, I suppose.

All day long salaried employees will not look at me, literally circumvent me and I get this odd feeling, they cannot speak with me.

Now the best part of that is I wouldn't notice at all if I didn't normally say "Hi" to absolutely everyone in my path, and am friendly with all the salaried folks as I go in and out of their offices on a regular basis.

Ah, well, perhaps they now think I am trying to be the team leader of a union. That is a hoot!

Anyone who knows me and my background will understand I am generally against unionization, I was an assistant manager with Wal-mart for God's sake, I know this. I understand the "ins" and "outs" of them generally, with a Human Resource Management minor, and I don't really like the idea.

We have an excellent plant manager, an anonymous ethics hotline, and make excellent wages with good benefits. Who on earth would want to pay fees and not be able to help do whatever job is available or have management work right along side of them, instead of having to go through a "process", feeling distanced from management, and not being able to work at a different position if that "wasn't your job"?

Sometimes Unions are necessary, but not here.

Facinating, really.

I am tempted to casually inform them I don't really care for unions, but I suppose they will relax after a while.

For now I guess I have the "Plauge"

Tears to my eyes

I may have mentioned that I really wanted a condo just up the road. The owner said if I could come up with $10,000.00 that he would help finance me. Well, I would have to come up with a loan for $10,000.00 with a down payment or collateral worth $1,000.00.

Last year, of course, I used my overtime for 28 weeks to pay the $1400.00 (by December) for Jamaica. I am not making overtime, now, and we were only working 4 days a week for the first part of the year.

I asked if I could borrow $1,000.00 from mom and dad to get my condo. They refused and said I should marry my boyfriend, he could help me get it.

"No, that wouldn't help me as his credit is tied up with previous loans on his former house and vehicle...", I replied.

From their point of view, I was able to afford Jamaica, I can get it myself, I guess.

I pay for the kids to go to private school. They offered to help (if I need it) with funds they received from a friend who died and left them an amount of money to help me with my education (how I was able to go to college).

All that said, I am sure if I was moving into a trailer right next door to them they would be more than glad to help me with it, because they would have complete survellence and enmeshment in my life. (They have mentioned an empty lot next to their place several times...)

Here comes the worst of it, yet.

My son was mad because his grandparents let his sister in his room when he wasn't home, and he had no say so in it.

My Dad then says, "Well, Amber doesn't even have a room that she can kick Alec out of..."

My daughter's "room" is where the dining room should be. We only have a two bedroom, so I partitioned off my girl's area so she would have a place of her own, and we wouldn't have to "share" a room.

Now, how do you suppose that hit me. I spent money to go to Jamaica, my daughter doesn't have a room, and my parents, who won't help me, criticize me for not having a place where she has a room.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but could I say anything? No.

I went to Jamaica...I should have used that money to buy a condo that I wouldn't have been able to afford the payments and taxes on, because the economy went south, and my work slowed down.

Now, realistically, last year may have been the last time I could have done something like Jamaica, as overtime will be lacking this year, and who knows about the future.

I have barely asked for any 'help' from them for the schooling. I could cancel that, but I sure want my kids to have a better start than I did, and they deserve to go to a school that will get them ahead, don't they? I sacrifice there, that is for sure! $677.00 a month. THAT is a mortgage payment, in and of itself. But, that doesn't count, evidently...my daughter doesn't have her own room.... :(

I am now being sued for my ex-husbands old medical bills. Because we were married, I am liable, and they don't give a flip if the divorce papers say we were to split all bills in half.

So, I have to pay that. You tell me how I will be able to get Amber her "own room" now? Eh?!

Catch 22.

We will not get raises this year, it has already been announced.

I was very tempted to move my bed into the walk-in closet, and call that "my" room, and set amber up in the main bedroom, just to make a point. I may still.

Screw them anyway. I have worked very hard, my kids have food, clothing, excellent schooling, warmth and shelter. I am so sorry my parents have never had to experience being a single parent with two children, no support, and formerly accrued bills to deal with.

I just love criticism.

lewis on morality continued...

Lewis

Moral code part I

What we know... Humans make horrible choices and hurt others around them sometimes to an appalling degree. Humans are not basically good in behavior, but bad. (Lord of the Flies) Eventhough they know the difference (usually) between the two. What makes people try to be good? How is it some people are just more loving, self-less, and "good"? Sometimes they fear so they do good. Fear of reprecussions of violating social norms or religious beliefs, reaps the benefit of them behaving "good". Truth be told being good benefits many. Being "bad" usually is detrimental to many. So, society tries to impose and institutionalize "good" behavior. Humans are imperfect and sometimes just plain stupid. Their actions at times do not succinctly follow to improve, support or benefit the promotion and enforcement of "good" behavior. Things often go terribly wrong. But there is an innate understanding that humans must have "enforcers" or authoritarian leadership in place to help continue the establishment of moral code, i.e. "good" behavior. Do the authorities always represent the best application of moral code? No. Should moral code still be supported, promoted and authorized? Yes. The question of the day, does the belief in, and or worship and reverence of a supreme being somehow impact the overall behavior of humans? Does this belief and religious institution help people be "good" and benefit society on the whole? Or, does it just give authority to raving lunatics and madmen? Does it cause more harm than good? The claim of authority from belief in a higher being has resulted in human behavior that was detrimentally harmful. Can the "belief" ever be tremendously beneficial? Again, it has been tremendously beneficial in the benevolent behavior it has produced. (i.e. actions of people like Mother Theresa) However, this seems absent of the need for authoritarian presence in society. The greatest impact has not been through institutionalization of beliefs, but simply just the "belief" itself producing "good" behavior and societal benefits. Is it necessary for society to believe in a supreme being with moral authority? No. Does it help? Sometimes. (the idea of equality). Is religion bad? Emphasis of moral code is good. Authoritarian imposition of moral code by religious "belivers" hasn't always turned out so well. Conclusion, "belief" is fine but only authority outside religious belief can objectively establish society's behavioral code and enforce it to the level of determining whether the behavior in question benefits or harms society.

yup, it does, it has, it will, forever.

How could it not.

I hum it every day, the music played.

I have, I will, I shall.

"It's the song I keep singing, and I don't know why"

mmm, 'hell.'

All I can do is shrug and say "Oh well."

All I will ever hear is music, the lyrics burned into my mind.

Truth be told, I do too.

Truth gets old, when you cannot hear it, see it, tell it.

It never stops repeating.

There's times I wish it would.

I knew, forever, it never could.

I recognize, say hello, good-bye, each and every time it yells.

I cannot stop it screaming, I try to tune it out.

It will not shut up.

It won't ever.

So, I hum it out.

I am so incredibly foolish. I, am like a spoiled child that points to and gets whatever she wants, but then realises what she chose was not the best and will not bring her what happiness she thought awaited. In fact, against her better preminition, she made her poor choice from the origin-with an undercurrent of dispair in understanding that she would neither be the complete object of affection, but also the necessary distraction as well. So it has been proven once again that even though she understands exactly what her life entails in every fascet, she still stays her course for the rocky canyon, demise well in view. There is no hind-site 20/20-only preminition that may prove even more acute. I simply wait to fall, and hope I have the stamina to endure yet another broken tragedy of emotion. Even foreknowlege cannot stifle the pain of severed emotions. There is no deflection of entwined. The connection has been made. Guard is incapable of voiding the desparation of loss. I will be and am vunerable. I will be hurt once again, I am foolish and will suffer for it depend on that. I am not exempt.

Empowerment of "the pen"

Case in point. I got my mother a cell phone, because I didn't want her to be in trouble somewhere and no one is able to get help to her.

Guess how she uses it now...

She has always been known for "preaching" at others. She sends long letters to members of her family, polititions, and friends about what they need to be doing differently. It would be her favorite thing to do. Sitting for long hours writing, reading, re-writing and smugly satisfied--sending her literary masterpieces.

She has learned e-mail, and now...texting...

Yup, now my mother has been empowered to stew about a subject she has been offended about for hours at a time and then send it to her next favorite victim via text...

Obviously I have inhereted the craving for spewing thoughts and feelings in writing, but it has always humored me as to why on earth she can find nothing better to write about.

Here was a text my poor father received when he came by to check on me--"It was past my eating time (she is diabetic and has a crazy eating 'schedule' with her first meal around 4am and last around 5pm) so though I don't normally want a bagle. This morning I needed one, and that is why I asked you to get them out of the car. Don't worry, I will provide for myself from now on so you do not have to bring anything for me." (My dad waits on her hand and foot, because evidently diabetes affects your ability to fin for yourself.)

My dad stood there staring at the phone for a moment after reading it outloud, and then looked over his reading glasses at me and said, "She has really learned to text, you know?" Then he sighed deeply and called her back to smooth her ruffled feathers once again.

I said, "Now that would be nice, her providing for herself, eh?" with a twinkle in my eye. He grinned a clenched smile and replied, "Yessss, it would, wouldn't it?"

So, I hear bits and pieces of the ridiculous discussion about "bagles or no bagles" floating in from the kitchen. As usual, Dad has gotten her to relax and now changed the subject to help her move on. Wow, rituals of life, what a wonder.

I expect the subject will come up again at some point or other, it takes a while for the mountains built out of mole-hills to erode back into peaceful plains. There are just certain people who never should have learned to read and write...

I am told about a conversation with a friend about her man trying to meet up with some other chic at a bar. This is what he said about it:

"Yeah, she asked me what I thought. I asked her what he knew that she knew about the situation, and that it could be one of three things." He told me what he had told her.

It is only one...her man is a dumbass.

But then again, so are we--the ones who put up with it. Why, because
somehow, we think we have to. I don't know in what book is the "unwritten"
rule of "I am a wonderful person, and eventhough you take me completely
for granted, treat me like an old forgotten shoe, and elevate everything
meaningless to a higher level than me, I will stay right here, by your side
and you just come and go when you feel like it and whenever you want, okay?",
but that rule book should be burned.

I told my one of my dear friends, "You are eternal, yet he values paper more than you." when she told me of her man working so desperately to win a few hundred bucks in a contest. He has lost her almost completely, but he doesn't even put half the effort he did for the contest into his "love" for her he still claims to have.

There are a ridiculous amount of factors involved. Social pressure from family, financial enmeshment, kids, co-dependency, the ability to forgive too easily. However none of them are decent enough reasons to stay.

Yet there is a timing that is so elemental to survival of the beaten, and weary eh?

That is why women become like me. Very warm and caring, but no longer giving over every part of their life or love to anyone ever again. Hell, how can you give all your heart when chunks are missing? How can you make any decision that will affect your relationship with your children or your stitched up heart without fear and doubting? You can't. You just can't.

Every once in a while there is a sixth sense that tells me. "Be wary, be on your guard, take nothing for granted, and trust actions--not words."

I truely wish I could trust and give my whole heart again, but all I can do is offer what I have, and hope desperately I am not dissapointed yet again.

Friends with the enemy

I accept you as my friend, I recognize you only as the enemy. I am not unaware, you see I know better than you think. There is a 'deeper magic' as in the story, that does not change or go away.

You wonder why you return again. You think you've got it all under control, you have lots of 'friends', you have your lover too. You are safe. So you think. So you pretend.

Yet you recognize, as do I, that you "don't paint anymore" You only become alive under that stare, when you know there is recognition, that is when your art is born. Otherwise, it is stagnate, it is watered down, the colors are not as vibrant, the beauty doesn't come from joy. Even if you try, what is produced lacks the potency, talent is never lost, but it can be lacking.

I am an artist, I know true beauty, I know the strong and resounding poetry. I understand what's missing, but I won't let you steal my pleasure. I am happy in my moment, I ask you to stay content in yours. Do not chose to cross that border, for that 'deep magic' requires blood to appease it. Death is not pretty-no matter how it comes, or who it comes to.

Eventhough the recognition of true beauty brings out in me a weakness towards fighting, and a willingness to just give it over, I will make every effort to rally my greatest streangth and defend what I now call my own.

Realize what I know, admit your loss, now, relinquish hold friendly foe, relinquish hold.

http://americanhistory.si.edu/collections/comphist/montic/cray.htm#cr2

heard of this on a commercial and thought it might be interesting to research.

The Fake

All her life, Tigre had been the greatest actor of all time.

She acted like all the things her mother did were fine. The tantrums, poutings, and manipulations were all okay, everything was always okay.

Inside it made her mad as a hornet to continually have to placate, pretend and acquiesce.
But she did it to keep the peace. She always did whatever it took to keep the peace. Even now.

Her mother 'got' a subscription to the newspaper for Tigre. "How sweet", Tigre bemoned to herself. Tigre never read the paper, and hated the news. She had neither time nor desire to "cut coupons". Even the television program guide was useless to her. She never watched TV.

When she threw the accumulated paper pile away, her mother asked her not to do that as she wanted to keep them. Tigre, at her limit, replied, "Why? So you can pile them up for me to get rid of when you are gone?"

Tigre knew she had made a mistake. Her mother and father had come in to town to 'help' her clear out her apartment, and revamp it. They suddenly 'had' to leave, even though Tigre had mentioned not wanting to have to take both kids to the vet and had hoped they could stay and help.

Her father, always able to read her, queried before leaving, "Oh, didn't you say something about needing help with taking the cat to the vet?

Stone faced, Tigre replied with feigned nonchallance, "Aw, no, it'll be fine. I will be just fine, no big deal. I can handle it." She avoided his glance and acted pre-occupied. She knew he would read the look in her eyes. She had to fake it, yet again.

Tigre would 'handle it' all right. Just as she 'handled' everything. An only child, she was used to working things out for herself, and finding a way around anything that stood in her way. The Vet had mercy on her even though she was late from dragging three children along with her. The cat was mortified. Tigre's daughter was traumatized that the vet put that thing in the cat's behind and gave the poor kitty a shot. Tigre's son was convinced the vet was cruel, and his tag-a-long friend was observant that Tigre was not his mother, after she scolded him.

Ah, yes, 'handled' it once again. Tigre wearily plopped her overweight self into the driver's seat. She carried the cat cage inside since everyone was so dreadfully weak with hunger at 6 in the evening, and started supper.

Supper almost ready, the friend complained he had speggetti last night. "I've got peanut butter." Tigre replied with no emotion. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches 'handled' that one.

Tigre cleared out her laundry room, made room for the recently re-packed Christmas decorations. Put all in order, at least enough for the evening, and laid down on her daughter's bed. "If I stay here, she will crawl in next to me and I can go to my room after she falls asleep." That would 'handle' having her wiggly daughter poking and pushing on her all night in Tigre's bed.

It worked. Tigre dragged herself up and over the sprawled child and scooted to her room. "Out." was her command to the computer engrossed boys. They obeyed without question. Evidently, it was obvious to them this woman was, 'done' for the evening.

Tigre couldn't sleep. Yes, she was tired, but her soul needed catharsis. She would get up and write her story. Whatever it took, to 'handle' life. Yes, that is what she would do. That is what she would always do.

It occured to her she did not like always being a fake. She pretended her ex didn't continually piss her off, and let him whimfully change meetings with his children. She kept the kids completely unaware of such changes and just anounced his arrival when he finally appeared or was for sure going to meet them. She 'kept the peace' with him to the point of annoyance so her kids would at least have some sort of relationship with their father.

After living with her mother, and then her children's narcissistic father, Tigre had learned the art of 'reading' others quickly and understanding to the utmost what actions would and wouldn't work out well for her.

When Tigre's father told her that he and her mother just couldn't afford to invest any money to help her get a loan for the condo she so desperately wanted, she knew the reason. Tigre remained silent as her father began with, "Well, you know, if you and your boyfriend got married, then maybe he could help you get the place." "Mmm.", Tigre responded, "yes, well, I am not sure how that would do me any good as he is still paying on half the house from his previous marriage and has a loan out on his vehicle." She talked cheerily about this and that afterward with him and her mother, said a pleasant good-bye, got off the phone and bawled angrily into a pillow.

Tigre hated herself for not just being able to say the truth no matter what, no matter who it hurt, no matter what chaos ensued. No, she was a peacemaker, and by God in Heaven that was not so very "bless-ed". Pretender was a better word.

She 'got along', 'hung-out' with, and attended parties for people with whom she held no connection or meaningful relationship, but hey, when you are so good at 'faking' it, no one is the wiser, except of course, yourself, and friends close enough and trusted enough to share the burden with you, and empathise with your ridiculous antics and approaches to keeping your life in order.

There was one part of her very deep that she tried to fake held no sway. Yet, try as she might, it was the one thing she was still not able to 'handle'. Tigre was able to laugh, smile, love and live wonderfully, until she was alone. It was then that she could no longer be "The Fake". It was then that she would quietly blog at 12:48 in the morning and blink the tears from her blurring eyes so she could see to continue to write.

"It will be okay, no matter." Tigre told her broken soul in the dark of night. "No matter what you really want or feel. You just keep pluggin along persuing peace and keeping what happines you've got. You can and forever shall be able to 'handle' it in everyone else's eyes, just don't look into your own and you will be fine, just fine."