Words

I miss words.  When blogging was young I jumped in it both feet and I swam through posts of my friends on all the hot topics of the day.  Those words inspired me and compelled me to write.  In the beginning we didn’t even use photos to illustrate our memes… it was just white space and black letters.  We wrote because our souls depended on it.  We wrote because the words demanded a voice. We wrote because we HAD a voice.  Truth was everywhere and it was respected.  We respected each other, even in the event of differing viewpoints. 

Like everyone else in the World the time came where I defected to the miniaturized ponds that were twitter and facebook.  Character limits became the challenge of the day and we all became creative spellers and lost the power of individual words and prose.  We resorted to using memes in place of postings and links to other people’s words instead of our own.

We were damned.  Literally and figuratively. Words that once fell like waterfalls across the white screen became drips and the photo meme became boulders and I have started to wonder if the flow of ideas and expression of truth has finally come to an end.

I want to get wet.  I want to sink into articles and essays.  I want to drown in educated thought.

Don’t try to save me.

Male Cravings

I am wary of that which I crave. I keep a check on my own dependence, even while I favor dominant and bossy men. I am careful not to need a man too much, but I want to know I’m taken care of. I pay close attention to the motives of really intelligent men but I have little patience for fools. I guard myself around powerful men but need to feel protected. I think that I confuse men as much as myself. I have a running joke....*I want a man who is more of a man than I am*. See the thing is, as far as women go, I am pretty powerful in a lot of ways. It’s the way I was born, not a life choice. I want to be one of those soft sweet women that stand by their man and I think I could be if I had a man I could stand by. I don’t care about materialism or money, but he needs to be intelligent and passionate and strong and domineering, for me to want to be with him. He also needs to be compassionate and kind and romantic and sweet for me to be able to love him. Can you see where my problems with relationships are? I want too damn much from one person and I can’t seem to make myself settle for less. See I want the fairy tale too... I'm having some serious cravings. I'd like a rose....but leave the thorns on please.

Rainy Days

We have fairly heavy rain today...but I love the rain....especially on Sundays. No, I won't post the Keith Urban song since I already hit facebook up with that. I don't have an opening line or even a good idea. I'm just writing because I haven't for a while. I have a love/hate thing with words....but despite the volatility, its the longest romantic relationship of my life, and probably the most passionate..... I think I was making up rhymes and grandstanding with my own soliloquies long before I started reading at 3 or 4 years old. Stories are still being told. Sometimes by other people.



I've written no less than 10 follow up paragraphs to that with as many subjects! The problem is I am all about keeping it real and making it truth but I don't want to right now. Its so much easier to write when things are not in transitional phases and you have no fear that your truth may affect the direction of your life. What has happened to my courage?



When I was young I did not just walk where angels feared to tread, I would stand naked in a fire and taunt the Devil himself. I was reckless in love and in life. I thought that I was created special. With a half century of life lived now, I know better. Some of those wounds nearly killed me. My scars are mostly hidden now.....but they protect my heart and mind like the thickest leather.



Over the years I slowly added armor to my spirit. I have a shield now. Most people can't see it, but I know its there. I used to just armor up for romance, but I have learned that I need this armor to keep false friends at bay and to safely pass through career challenges as well. I think I've lost the ability to trust wthout proof. I miss it.

When I was young I would go on daily adventures...I smiled at strangers and when a boy would try to kiss me....as often as not I would let him. I remember with a smile in my heart, long walks in unfamiliar areas where I would let my curiosity free. I'd pet stray dogs and not worry about fleas and would pick up bugs just to get a closer look without worrying about stings. I climbed trees without a fear of falling.

What I wouldn't give to be that person again....

I'd give even more if I could offer that world to my granddaughter....

Armor

Well I tried to throw caution to the wind, play no games and actually show that I cared and it didn't work well for me.

I was still playing games and ended up in a rather chaotic and embarrassing situation. Nothing major, nothing broken, but a realization that maybe I will never have the love I so want. I may not want it enough.

I'm not sure I trust the kind of romance I keep involving myself in. I don't believe in soul mates. I quit believing in love at first sight several years ago when it really wasn't.

I want that unconditional thing my grandparents had...maybe it wasn't perfectly unconditional but the conditions were the right ones. It started with TRUTH.

I think it takes truth still...but it has to be given in doses. People really can't handle the truth and that is not just a Jack Nicholson line.        You give it up in small increments until you are certain they've grasped it without damage.   Too much truth can be overwhelming.    We all have to live in the lies we tell ourselves.   

Its armor.  We all wear it. Love doesn't happen until we can take that armor off, one piece at a time and stand naked from the soul out with another human and say "You may not be perfect, but I kinda like the pattern your scars make on you."    If we can't deal with the ugliness and the imperfections, we don't deserve the romance.

 
I don't want to generalize men,

I know so many perfectly wonderful and yet so completely unavailable guys...so I will specify that it is my less than stellar prospective men who fail to impress me. Not to mention I am no angel myself. I like my caution.

I can't trust the men I seem to like very much. Maybe its poor judgment on my part, it doesn't matter why, the real question is: why should I give them the power to hurt me?

I don't need them. There is a huge difference between what I need and what I want.

I can take care of myself. I don't long to be pampered and spoiled. I've had my babies, and I have my imagination for anything else I might need.

I'd rather be alone than play the games they want to play and at least while my games may delay intimacy, I don't lie to them or lead them on....

Let him declare his feelings to me before he hears my soft words whispered in his ear. He will need to be clear about what he wants from me if he hopes to get it. That's when my armor comes off. Thats when he can see who I really am.

Maybe I'm not a nice girl all the time. I do know what works though. Grandpa's rules. First: know your own value. Last: don't accept less. The one rule of mine that I break too much lately: If the first taste is bitter, don't go back for seconds.

It took me years to repair this heart. I have no intention of putting it in shaky hands.

I want a man with a spine of steel, heart of gold and the patience of a saint.

Exactly what I have to offer.

Or I'd just as soon be alone with my pretty shiny armor.

Only your real friends will tell you when your face is dirty. ~Sicilian Proverb

Vampires.

I have a love hate thing with them....the real ones and the fantasy ones. Even when I know they would only take the life from me...  

I stretch out my neck in invitation.....

It all sounds so sexy doesn't it?

Kinda....in the fantasy world.

In my real world I find these people all the time. They don't have fangs or piercing eyes...they have needs and problems and they want me to fix them.

Never mind that I have my own or that my family needs me too. I'm learning how to say "No" though. Learning the hard way actually. A few friendships have ended when I stopped the blood flow, though most have been understanding. That's a good thing really.

Eventually the wounds will heal and the sun will come out.

What's it all mean?

I found this so fascinating that I am posting it on all my blogs. Seriously. Answer the question at the end if you want....I'm interested on your take on this. What's it all mean?

My Mother's Mother

A week ago today my family and I celebrated the life of my Grandmother. I think I've finally come to terms with everything....

I was asked to speak there and I did. In dreams I was overcome by the spirits of first my grandmother and then my grandfather. In fact, I wrote it quickly after the first dream....but the dream I had the next night made it clear that it wasn't quite finished. Grandpa always said if you are going to do a thing....do it right. He loved my Grandma too much to allow me to neglect certain aspects of her personality...most notably her damnable determination. Both frustrating and admirable while she lived, I completely left it out until the second dream.

Below is the memorial speech I gave in honor of my Grandma...I'm not really sure if I wrote it. It is pretty much exactly as I recited it with one small exception...the minister who spoke before me also stated he felt touched by my (very very determined) Grandmother and felt that she wanted him to include the same poem she directed me to say...so I didn't repeat in my speech it but I left it in the version below. LOL....guess I should have tried to go first....

Grandma always said I had a habit of using $20.00 words for a $5.00 message. I'll try to keep this on the cheap side. There aren't enough days in the year to share all the stories I would like to share or for you to share back anyway. I just want to give your memories a nudge and your heart a smile. I think that is all Grandma wants me to do anyway.

Some would say she had her ups and downs and no doubt she would say that too. I'm not here to talk so much about that. We've all had them. She handled them better than most.

As far as I've ever been concerned, she and Grandpa were the greatest influences in my life and the people that I want most to be like. They may not have been rich in dollars, but their lives were more valuable than all the gold in the world. They were plain people who could have had more for themselves if they had been willing to do less for others. They chose to enrich others instead. In the end, thier legacies to us are far more valuable than any money they could have left us. They were good people. We were truly blessed.

We are here to remember Grandma today and I guess what I'd like for us all to remember most is not that she died but that she really live, not quietly, not sorrowfully but loudly and boldly. Some would even say she was a bit of an eccentric. She'd like to hear them saying it too!.

She lived life on her terms and to her own satisfaction as much as I think any of us really can. In that way I like to think I'm a little bit like her. I think most of you are a bit like that too. As a matter of fact, I'd go so far as to say we are kind of known as that kind of family around these parts.

Waneta Rogers was an amazing woman. She was not much bigger than the leprachauns she tried to convince me still lived in Ireland. She dyed her hair bright red to give the world warning that she was a firebrand. She worked and played harder than men 4 times (not just twice) her size. Even so, she was completely feminine. She kept up her appearances and never let the world see her down. Grandma even dressed up and put make-up on before she went to the Salvation Army store (which she called the Sally-Shop). She mended and restyled her purchases so well that people would often comment on her fashion style and try to get her to reveal where she found such lovely pieces. She told the truth, but was seldom believed about it.

Grandma was a capable woman. There wasn't any person or any situation that she couldn't handle effectively. She could manage my siblings, my cousins and me all at the same time with a single look and she could make everything right in the world with one sweet smile. Heaven help the poor soul that would try to harm one of us. She could handle them too!

Let us remember, with a glad heart, the woman who defied convention and married an Indian when that just wasn't done. Let us remember the woman who tamed that wild giant of a man too. She never judged people on something so minor as the color of their skin, she made friends based on the content of their hearts. She was a supportive wife, a loving mother, a thoughtful sister, a wonderful friend, and the kind of grandmother that all children wish for. She was known as quite the character too! You never knew for sure what she would say or do next but it was pretty hard to be bored around her. She was interesting all the time. I don't think I ever heard her use the word *bored*. I don't think she knew it. I'm pretty sure she never was.

I'm also sure she wouldn't be pleased if she were to look down on us and see us crying or whining about our loss today. You all know that she didn't like cry babies or complainers much. I should know, when I was a child I was one. She had a few colorful sayings for that type of behavior. *Youknowwhat or get off the pot!*. If you don't like it then change it. Seriously, Grandma could have written Nike ads. Just do it! It was impossible to be wishy-washy around her. She simply would not stand for it.

Lord help you if you ever said the word *can't* in her presence. Actually to this, I can almost hear her reminding me that *the Lord helps them that helps themselves!*

I can honestly say that without this not-so-gentle wisdom from Grandma, I would not be who I am today. Chances are neither would any of you.

So lets not cry today. If you must shed a tear let it be a tear of joy for being so lucky to have been a part of her life. Lets celebrate her! Lets be grateful we have such a wonderful legacy in her memory. Grandma was a fireball! She was an oddity! She was freakin hilarious most of the time! She was also courageous and kind. She was smart, especially in politics and current events and plain spoken. She never pretended to be anyone she wasn't. Of all the people I've ever known, she was the most comfortable in her own skin. She was true to herself. We should all aspire to be more like her in that way. She was a practical woman. She never wasted a thing and was recycling items long before it became the *thing to do*. Waste not. Want not. She had her priorities and she lived by them. Family came first, then friends, then strangers. She never cared about any material thing. She only cared about people. Especially her people. Especially us.

She was the first one I ever heard say *Dynamite comes in small packages*. Truer words were never spoken.

We don't want to forget her people watchers because it was a really warped sense of humor that came up with that one. I swear I was afraid to misbehave because I just knew that Grandma could see us through all those magical (as she told me) eyes.

Remember the unusual knick-knacks and collectors items she called dust catchers, but couldn't part with. That's because we kept giving them to her. It was never the decorations she liked, it was having little pieces of us around that she couldn't give up.

We don't want to forget that she would help out her neighbors and welcome strangers either. She defended her family against any danger that came and never backed down from evil. She was something special. When she had a word or two to say, EF Hutton listened.

Let us remember those gentle hands that could give us a man size whoopin or an angel's hug depending upon our needs at the time. Let us remember her eyes crinkled in laughter or touching our soul in the few tears she shed. Don't you forget that stubborn chin either! When she was right she was right.

I won't forget her determination. When she couldn't drive any longer, she took up riding that adult size tricycle, despite the fact that it really was way too big for her. She was something else! If one solution didn't work, she always found another. Long before people ever said the words *failure is not an option* she was living them.

Some would say our life is less now that she is gone....not me. My life is *more* because she lived. My life is more because every lesson she ever taught me comes up again and again. She made sure I had the right answers. How can I cry about her death when I still feel her life in me? I still see evidence of her in my children. I can look around and see evidence of her existence in each of us here. When I look at my daughter, Grandma's eyes smile back at me. I still see her. I still feel the love she gave us. Its that voice in my head that tells me in very colorful ways to not give up when things get tough. When I fall I can hear Grandma snickering and telling me that my backside isn't going to do me much good sitting on the ground like that. Her invisible arms still comfort me in my sadness. Her wisdom keeps me from being too hypocritical. I hear her laughter everytime I see some really bizarre knick knack. I think of her and she lives. Actually I don't even need to think of her first, not when I can see her so plainly in your faces.

I know she lives for you too..

So I don't want to see any of you shedding too many tears.

You know Grandma didn't like crybabies.
　
Someone once wrote these words, I'm not sure who.....but I think Grandma felt this way....
　
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free


Miss me a little - but not too long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that we once shared
Miss me - but let me go


For this is a journey that we must all take
And each must go alone
It's all a part of the Master's plan
A step on the road to home


When you are lonely, and sick of heart
Go to the friends we know
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds
Miss me - but let me go

　

Thank you.

Storms

I write about this affinity I have with storms.  Right now as I wait for one I thought I would try to describe what is happening to me and what I expect to occur.

Right now there is that heaviness hanging in the air as I wait for a storm to come.  Some people hate that.  I don't....but I don't love it either.  

There is this thing between myself and big storms...its like I am absorbed into the energy that hangs in the air.  Its a physical thing that is already starting, my joints ache, my muscles tighten, my head feels pressed against, even my breathing becomes different.  Its not a painful thing, but it sort of feels like being under water a bit too long. Comfortable but a bit unnerving nonetheless.

This feels like it will be a big one, but maybe it will pass over.  Its kind of an either/or thing at this point.  Storms seem to clear up my thinking once they begin but before they come, I contemplate all the difficult things to think about.  I'm uncomfortable inside and out as I wait for the storm that will release me physically and mentally.

Often it is during a storm that sleep literally overtakes me and I sleep that dreamless trance that refreshes the soul.  When it doesn't happen like that then it is usually because I have some seriously heavy thoughts that inspire dreams, visions and night terrors, that would freak out at least half of my readers.  Unfortunately I fear tonight will be the latter.  I have some heavy thoughts going on these days.

Still better to have the dreams than to not have the storm.  The storm brings release by one form or another.  If the air just hangs heavy like this I won't be able to rest for days, because I will continue to feel the universal pressure and the mental confusion until the barometer changes.

Pray for rain.

Single Again

With everything going on, I didn't mention that I actually did break up with the BF a while back. I should feel worse which only tells me I did the right thing.

I had been trying to make things work but I think it was more because I thought I should want what he wanted and that I thought I should try to stay in a relationship. Everybody else does. Then with everything that was going on, all I could think of is that this is not my life. I remembered my first rule of romance. *You can't make someone love you and you can't make someone stop*.

I learned that I can work and I can compromise though, but I can't change the truth about who I am. That's where I keep messing up. I keep trying to be the woman they want me to be, or rather I keep trying to hide the part of me they don't want. Its not that my standards have been too high, rather the opposite. I've been in a hurry, never asking myself why.

Maybe, for a time I really believed I couldn't make it on my own. I think I'm wrong. I may not be doing the middle class diva thing, but I am doing ok. I think I will continue doing ok with or without a man in my life. I'm stronger and more capable than I realized.

I'm moving *having a successful romantic relationship* way down on my priority list now. I still want it, but I realize I don't need it to be happy.

Trying to convince the former BF that I mean it is another thing entirely. The break-up is not working well for him. But I don't think its me he wants at all. He just wants somebody. I'm deluged with the text messages and the sad faces at work. I am sorry that he is hurting. He'd be relieved if he would just listen to what I actually said and look for the truth. No one should have to change the essence of who they are for a relationship to work and basically that is what I was asking him to do. Desperation is a painful thing.

Reflections about Grandma

I can't write about my Grandma and not write about myself and the other women in my family. Somehow we are one and the same. I have often written about the women in my family. We outnumber the men, I think its probably about 3 to 1 normally in our genetic history, though sometimes it seems closer to 4 to 1, my siblings are 4 to 1. I have a saying, *We don't have an x gene, we have a capital X gene.*

We women absolutely adore the men, they are a jovial bunch! They kind of have to be, a sense of humor is a must when you are surrounded by wildly passionate females. The women are all strong. At risk of insulting the men, we are the strongest gender in our family. We never give up and we are the ones who inspire or force the men to become the leaders that they usually are. Even my mildest female relative, my baby sister Rhonda, who I've often mentioned, is a handful. No one else but me would dare call her mild. We all avoid confronting each other. We know that we are formidable. Nothing is more hair raising than to watch two women in our family disagree. Personally I'd rather fight a thug from the streets.

This sisterhood is passed, it seems, down the maternal line as well. My sisters and I, despite the differences we note from time to time, are really quite alike. We have the soul and the passion of our mother and our maternal aunt. Our mother and our aunt had the soul of our grandmother, who from what I understand inherited her spirit from her mother, whom I never knew. We all may have bits and pieces of our fathers in us, they pass on beliefs and kindness to us. But the truth of it all is that without this *never say die, never give up, never give in* spirit in our female lineage, I think our family would have died out during the potato famine in Ireland. That is when another woman, down the female line, raised her numerous siblings and made it to America, her siblings in tow. The next generation of females, which include my spirited daughter Celia, are even stronger.

On the outside and to outsiders we may appear to be socially acceptable and appear to be ladies most of the time. Appearances can be deceiving and so can we. The women of our family never needed the women's liberation movement. We never needed a law to tell us that we are as good or as capable as a man or to demand and receive justice in a man's world. All we ever needed was recent family history. We usually outwardly conformed to the social rules of history while breaking numerous conventions privately. Unless we didn't care a flying uknowwhat, then we would break the rules and damn the consequences. History repeats itself alot in my family.

My Grandma skipped school one day and married a Cherokee boy. When she married him interacial marriage was illegal in some states and unacceptable everywhere, especially in her father's house. Native Americans were in the same boat that all other dark races were then. To say that my Grandpa was a wild one would be an understatement. He was huge too. He was a golden gloves boxer who stood over 6'. My Grandma was about 4'11" and small framed to boot. To say she tamed him would be a misstatement. She directed his energy though. Because of who she was, he became who he was. There was more power and intelligence in her small form than in any man he ever met, I'm sure. He was wise enough to note that. He never treated her as *the little woman*. My Grandpa was the bravest man I ever met, but he knew better. The things I remember most about their relationship are that passion and love were ever present. I don't remember ever seeing any indifference there, like I see in most couples after a time. I remember, even while I was just a young girl barely curious about sexuality, that they were very romantic towards each other. Very touchy-feely. They argued from time to time too, but even that was passionate and full of love. When they did argue, it seemed as if two sides of the same person were reflecting on the wrong that the feet had done to the hand when the body fell down. I used to love to watch them make thier morning coffee when ever I stayed there. It was like the whole thing was a choreographed dance. Grandma would take the pot apart and Grandpa would reach for the coffee. She would fill the pot with water and he would lift it out of the sink.... It was a beautiful sight. Always, when I think of what I wanted life to be like for me, that was it. To make coffee together like we were one person.

Grandma was a beautiful woman, but she didn't really care. I remember convincing her to wear more glamorous make-up in her middle 50's once. She humored me and wore it all day, but I knew she thought it was ludicrous. I thought she looked beautiful. Most of the time she wore nothing more than a little powder and lipstick. She did like jewelry, especially earings. She used to tell me I was naked without them. Its funny....she didn't care about how she looked so much, but she did want to put on a good face and maybe a little bling bling for the world to see. She was naturally a platinum blonde. She dyed her hair red for as long as I can remember. I asked her about that once. It seems that when my handsome grandfather was at his peak as a boxer he quite naturally enjoyed the attentions (without cheating in any form) of the women who flocked to him a bit too much. Grandma would, of course, get rid of those ladies in short order but she began dying her hair red to give them (probably him too) warning. I can only assume it worked. If Grandpa was admiring the ladies, I know I never saw it. Smart guy. She wasn't really jealous though, it was more of a pride thing. Those women should never have dared to approach HER husband. It wouldn't surprise me to learn she had actually kicked a few asses to tell you the truth. I think I would have. Ok truth be told, I have.

She was always about family. She loved her man, she loved her children and she loved their offspring. We never doubted her love, though there are times we questioned why. I'm not writing about the failures though. We all have them. I am writing about the woman who loved anyway, even when some of us did not deserve it. She somehow made time for each of us. We all have wonderful stories about our one on one time with Grandma. She tried to be wise, but she never spoke as eloquently as she lived. Grandpa was the talker, she was the doer. She used to make big Sunday friend chicken dinners and she would squeeze as much of her large family as possible into her tiny house. She seemed to live for the banter that went around the dinner table. I learned just as much from watching her do what needed to be done as I did listening to Grandpa speak about social issues. Her actions reflected his words. Grandma did not let important things go undone, she never let the unimportant cloud her vision. She was the essence of practicality. She paid attention to the whole picture, she didn't get stuck on the details like the dreamers in our family. Grandma pulled us all together when we were trying to pull her in different directions. She was like a lighthouse. If we felt sad or confused, we could go to her and she would busy us with tasks and we could think uninterupted. My mother has been growing more and more like her these past years. Trying to keep the warring factions at bay, trying to spank the dreamers among us back into reality. I feel kind of sorry for Mom. For having such tiny feet, Grandma left big shoes to fill. Mom is the matriarch now and the family is bigger than Grandma's, probably even wilder now. Grandma and Aunt Shirley are watching down on her I know, and will lend guidance through dreams, but my poor mother has a passionate bunch of women to guide and prepare for the next generation. It isn't easy. Not when we all have that bloodline of strong women. There's that capital X gene again for good or ill. I hope she can keep Grandma's sense of humor amidst it all. She's going to need it now.

I didn't mention my Grandma was funny did I? OMG! She was outrageous. Grandma would take us shopping at the local department store and go around sniffing toilet paper because she wanted to find the best smelling one. She would sniff loudly and pretend not to notice the other shoppers! Must be where I get the playing pranks on strangers thing. Another thing she would do at the store is let big stinkers, sometimes big loud stinkers and then loudly blame it on my siblings and me. "Tressa ANN what did YOU do?!?!" she would say as if she were disgusted and scolding me for my behavior. I would blush and get so angry and she would just chuckle all the way home until I was laughing with her even while I was praying to God none of my friends were there. I can remember her tricking me into annoying the neighbors with my off key clarinet playing by convincing me that I was so good she wanted the neighbors to know how much better her granchild was than their children and grandchildren! She did the same thing with me reading out loud. As a little girl she built up my ego so much that by the time I went in to get my tonsils out (4 years old) I had an attitude that commanded me to steal all the toys from the hospital play room. I then locked myself into the bathroom and refused to come out because I knew I deserved all those toys more than the other kids. When the nurses were finally able to restrain me (it took massive doses of sleep meds and a net over the crib they were trying to keep me in), I fell asleep ranting about how they could not do this to me and that I would tell my Grandma and she was going to be really mad because she said I looked just like Shirley Temple and was going to be a star some day. Yeah, Grandma could convince me of just about anything and she had a lot of fun doing just that.

There are lots of things I could say about her, she had the patience of a saint. She must have listened to the "Disco Duck" 100 times in a row one day because it was my favorite song at the time. She actually tried to learn to dance *the Hustle* from me. She let my friends spend the night and we painted knick knacks all day. She never told me to shut up (she whispered to mom to tell me though I am sure). She forgave almost anything. Her heart was always open for the love of her family. She wouldn't put up with shit out of any of us though. You haven't been told off until she got a hold of you. She was brave too. A year ago she tried to take on some neighborhood thugs while spending some time at my Mom's. They backed down. I bet she made them feel guilty about their own grandmothers. They probably hung their head in shame just like I did the few times she felt the need to straighten me out. She was protective of us all. I remember when I was about 13 or so, she caught my sister and me talking to boys and first she chased them off with a switch and then she chased us home with the same one. She loved that we were all such pretty girls but she thought we shouldn't trust boys. Wise woman sometimes. When she moved back to her hometown for a while I used to write her from time to time. I remember once I thought it would be funny if I corrected her spelling and grammar. Ok I was probably showing off too. I only did that once! Trust me, I was TOLD. She used to say I used $20.00 words for a $5.00 message, I think I finally understood what she meant sometime in my early 30's and I toned it down a bit. People liked me more after that.

I loved my Grandma. I wasn't good about visiting her as an adult. I will regret that forever I guess. I bet she would tell me not to worry about it though. She knew I loved her and that was enough. She was enough for me.

Breathe in, Breathe out, Move on.

My grandmother passed on yesterday. I'm still dealing with the guilt and the poor-me's. I think I'm coming to terms with it. The thing that bothers me most is that for a period of time she felt physical pain. She had gangreen. She would have died soon anyway. She was 92. Basically my family is very lucky to have had her as long as we have, still we would have greedily accepted each additional day if we could have had them.

I'll write about her more soon. She was an amazing woman. Everything is too fresh now.

Today is my birthday. I knew she wouldn't die today. She would never do that to me. I knew it would be on a plain ordinary date so as not to dredge up painful reminders year after year. She was always so considerate, never wanting a fuss to be made.

We haven't made any solid funeral or viewing arrangements yet. I'm still waiting for my parents to call with something definite. I couldn't go today anyway. I won't make the association between today and yesterday, she wouldn't have liked that and I don't want to make people feel like they need to put on thier happy birthday faces for me. No one is happy today.

Walter has been trying so hard to make me happy today. I keep trying but all I want to do is sit and stare. Most people haven't remembered and I am ok with that. If I could have changed the date I would have. I just wish I could take away the regret from my friends and family when they realize they forgot me. I wish they could just forget completely until next year.

I'm breaking up with my boyfriend too. I would have done it already but he has been angry since I decided to visit my Grandma last Saturday with my sister. (that visit is how we found out the seriousness of this situation...but thats another soap opera). He has been totally ignoring and avoiding me since then despite the fact that he knows that I was dealing with all this. Nothing in it for him to be around me when I'm sad. I thought he really cared and I was worried about hurting him. I did care for who I thought he was, even knowing he wasn't the one for me. I realize now that I was just a free meal and booty call. I helped his position at work somewhat too. He got more than he paid for. I had high hopes that I could still be friends with him, but this hurt even if I knew already that we were not going to last. I feel stupid. Used. The truth is, he was trying to keep me isolated, and I won't be trapped again.

My resolution word last year was Hope. Good word and it was good for me to concentrate on that. This year the word will be CLARITY. My life needs definition, my truths need classification, my world needs to get organized. I've gone through a lot in the past 10 years or so, its time to start understanding what all these events actually mean in my life...time to clean up some of the debris, physically and figuratively, that surrounds me.

Today, out of the blue, a man I didn't know read one of my profiles and emailed me about the following song. Jimmy Buffett wrote it after Hurricane Katrina. It sums up how I feel today. Like I always say...Sometimes God sends you angels.

I bought a cheap watch from a crazy man
Floating down canal
It doesn't use numbers or moving hands
It always just says now
Now you may be thinking that I was had
But this watch is never wrong
And If I have trouble the warranty said
Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

And it rained, It was nothing really new
And it blew, we've seen all that before
And it poured, the Earth began to strain
Pontchartrain leaking through the door, tides at war

If a hurricane doesn't leave you dead
It will make you strong
Don't try to explain it just nod your head
Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

[Guitar Solo]

And it rained, It was nothing really new
And it blew, seen all that before
And it poured, the Earth began to strain
Pontchartrain buried the 9th Ward to the 2nd floor

According to my watch the time is now
Past is dead and gone
Don't try to shake it just nod your head
Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

Don't try to shake it just bow your head
Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

I'm breathing.

Nostalgia

If auld aquaintance......

I've had a migraine since Wednesday. Seriously. Bad Bad Bad. I'm left work early. I still have not received a New Years Eve Midnight Kiss in my life. (I'm thinking this is an omen) I finally started feeling better (but still kind of tired) a couple of hours ago.

I had dropped Walter off at the College Football Hall of Fame. His Winter hang out since there isn't an enclosed skatepark anymore and laid down for a nap. When he called at 4:30 for pick-up...I woke up, feeling refreshed and singing moonshadow....Seriously....*i'm being followed by a moon shadow...moon shadow moon shadow.



In the dream I was 11 again. Snuggled up against my favorite (and missing) Aunt. Wearing my Native American braids tied with leather just like hers.... As my aunt softly strummed her folk guitar she taught me the words to this song. It was a happy song to sing when I was sad or confused. She loved me and I her. For reasons I won't share I haven't seen her since around that time. It was the most awful year of my childhood for losses....that was also the year my Grandfather passed on. The thing is, she was one of the most influential people in my life. I am sure this memory has a special meaning for me now....not really hidden either as I contemplate my recent moods....

Moon Shadow
Cat Stevens

I'm being followed by a moon shadow
moon shadow-moon shadow
leaping and hopping on a moon shadow
moon shadow-moon shadow
and if I ever lose my hands
lose my plough, lose my land
oh, if I ever lose my hands
oh, if...I won’t have to work no more
and if I ever lose my eyes
If my colours all run dry
yes, if I ever lose my eyes
oh if …I won't have to cry no more.
yes, I'm being followed by a moon shadow
moon shadow - moon shadow
leaping and hopping on a moon shadow
moon shadow - moon shadow
and if I ever lose my legs
I won't moan and I won't beg
Oh if I ever lose my legs
oh if...I won't have to walk no more
And if I ever lose my mouth
all my teeth, north and south
yes, if I ever lose my mouth
oh if...I won't have to talk..............
Did it take long to find me
I ask the faithful light
Ooh did it take long to find me
And are you going to stay the night
I'm being followed by a moon shadow
moon shadow - moon shadow
leaping and hopping on a moon shadow
moon shadow - moon shadow moon shadow -
moon shadow moon shadow - moon shadow

She had moon shadows following her....and I have mine. Its all about questioning your life. About living life with joy despite the constant need for answers and worries plaguing you. I've been thinking about running away again. I'm so good at that. Worries about my youngest child, the economy here, the changes happening at work, the crime, and being in a dead-end relationship. I don't want to be alone though. Those are my moon shadows.... Blocking the light. Still as the year I concentrate on Hope comes to a close this month I find that hope is ever present. I think I've got a real grip on it now. The dream helped but I think I would have reached sanity again....As soon as Spring came.

I'm not going anywhere. I will deal with whatever I have to deal with....

Let the light shine down.

The final version

There is a shorter version on my personal page, I posted it about a month ago, but this is the story that is being edited for the South Bend Tribune for publication sometime next month. It will need to be cut for space, I am a bit over on the word count. I wanted to present the unedited version here though.

A Cherokee Wedding By Tressa Bailey (sister of the bride) August 30, 2008, was a beautiful Summer Day. It was the end of the Fruit Moon and the 56th Cherokee National Holiday. It was too hot for an outdoor wedding, but like the ancestors that I am sure witnessed us from Heaven, we endured. This was the day that my sister, Rhonda Bailey would be joined forever with her love, Dave Buwa. Our parents (Ronald and Frances Bailey) and Dave’s parents (Marvin and Anna Buwa) had been planning this wonderful day for what seemed like ages, but was truthfully only a matter of months. Both families descend from the tribe of the Cherokee.

The guests, who dressed casually, mingled as we watched Chief Edgar WhiteWolf, assisted by his wife, Karen, consecrate the sacred circle where the wedding of my sister, Rhonda and Dave Buwa would soon be taking place. Chief WhiteWolf called out to the Great Spirit and our beloved ancestors to bless this union and all who attended.

It is interesting to note that while Cherokees are allowed to choose or reject their own mates, in order to participate in a wedding ceremony, they are required to get the favorable opinion of a Shaman. Since our tribe does not have an official Shaman, Chief acted in that capacity and met with the couple, instructed them and finally gave his approval of the union.

Most of the costumes worn by the wedding party were authentic costumes, hand made by our Mother, but our nephew, Adam Bailey, made his own costume as did the Chief and his wife. Cherokee women don't get to wear the sexy outfits that are commonly depicted in old movies. We are required to be fully covered and modest.

We entered the consecrated circle in the traditional clockwise manner, were handed a small packet and took our seats. Families sit together. Singles sit separately. The smells of sage and tobacco permeated our senses but it was a lovely smell, not at all like cigarettes, because this was untreated tobacco. The tobacco was not meant for smoking. Sage had been burned to bless the circle before we entered, much the same way that certain religions burn incenses in their churches. The Cherokee way of faith seems very ceremonial and mystical at times.

L to R, Frances Bailey, Anna Buwa, Rhonda and Dave Buwa, Chief Edgar WhiteWolf

Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other.

Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other.

Now there is no more loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other.

Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you.

Go now to your dwelling to enter into the days of your life together.

And may your days be good and long upon the earth.

The couple stood before the Chief and the mothers of the couple stood behind them. Cherokees have a matrilineal family tree. This means that family lineage and inheritance is passed down the line of the female rather than the male as is common in most societies.

Rhonda wore a traditional tear-dress, in white, and carried a basket with ears of corn to represent that she would take root and care for the family, Dave wore a Cherokee white ribbon shirt and carried a basket of meat indicating that he would nourish and support the family. Blue blankets were draped about the couples’ shoulders at the beginning of the ceremony by their mothers, covering them in symbolism, mostly about solitude, reflection and loyalty. They each have their own blanket to represent their separate beginnings. Behind Chief there was a basket holding the few remaining white-wrapped gifts of raw tobacco packets that were handed to each guest as we took our seats. These were given so that we might thank the Great Spirit for the couples’ love, by enriching the Earth at the end of the ceremony.

A wonderful event occurred during this ceremony. Two beautiful hawks (our family's totem consists of hawks and wolves. I've always considered myself a wolf, which is the minority, but my sister Rhonda considers herself a hawk) began circling the consecrated ground. This was considered a wonderful omen, a blessing from our ancestors and the Creator. I believe in omens like this. The circle became steadily smaller until the hawks were almost hovering above Rhonda and Dave. I silently said “Hi” to our Grandpa, Aunt Shirley and Cousin Sue, who had joined the Great Spirit years earlier. I believe it was their spirits which were directing the Hawks. I'm sure they wanted to celebrate my sister finding the happiness she has always deserved.

L to R, Frances Bailey, Anna Buwa, Rhonda Bailey, Dave Buwa (covered), Chief Edgar WhiteWolf

Above you are the stars, below you are the stones.

As time does pass, remember, like the stars should your love be constant.

Like the stones should your love be firm.

Be close yet not too close. Possess one another, yet be understanding

Have patience with each other, for storms will come, but they will go quickly.

Be free in giving of affection and warmth and be serious to one another.

Have no fear, and let not the words of the unenlightened give you unease.

For the Great Spirit is with you, now and forever. A May Naa (amen)

After the ceremony, but before the blessing, the mothers replaced the two blankets with a single white blanket symbolizing that the two were now one. The color was to symbolize the purity of their love, white is not required as much as the best fabric or hide available. It is more about placing the highest value on the partnership rather than the parts of the marriage. Rhonda and Dave, with tears of happiness in their eyes, then turned to us and gave us their wedding testament:

“God in Heaven above, protect the ones we love. We honor all that you have created as we pledge our lives and hearts together. We honor Mother Earth and ask that our union be warm and glowing with love in our hearts."

Many of the rest of us felt those tears too. For some of us, tears of relief that all obstacles had been conquered comingled with tears of joy that all promises and prayers had been answered. It seemed as if we, and not just they, had waited forever for this magical day. All was right with the world. Now they could rest in the comfort of each other and live in the security that is love.

Those few cynics amongst us believed in the power of faith and love once again, if only for a moment.

Adam Bailey dances Adam Bailey, our nephew, danced a traditional tribal dance after the ceremony. He made his costume right down to the deer-hide laces used as thread. He hunted and killed the deer that the hide came from. According to the Cherokee way, not one part of the animal was laid to waste. What wasn't eaten was used for clothing or art. If scraps remain, they are buried, untreated, to nourish the Earth. Native Americans never kill animals indiscriminately. It is against our faith to waste the Earth or its creatures. He gathered and cleaned all the feathers in his headdress and accessories. The beads were made from twigs and stones and various other *found* objects. Cherokees try to recycle everything as a way of life and out of respect to the Earth that the Creator provided us. After the dancing was completed, we guests blessed the ground with our tobacco and sent our prayers to the Great Spirit. We then went to the gift blanket to pick out our tokens from the happy couple. Cherokee people measure wealth, not by how much you retain, but by how much you give away. Cherokees give thanks for our blessings and events by giving, rather than receiving gifts. The ceremony ended when we rejoined and completed the circle during our exit. Rhonda and Dave Buwa, joined by their nephew Adam Bailey (center) Afterwards we gathered for a pot-luck dinner and hog roast reception. If anyone left hungry it was their own fault.

I must note that while this is the ceremony that our family will recognize, it was technically not a legal marriage, nor sanctioned by most religions. Rhonda and Dave were married at the courthouse for legal reference, and also had a nondenominational Christian ceremony shortly before the Cherokee Ceremony began.

I think that any couple who goes to the trouble of being married three times, will certainly last forever. May the Great Spirit bless them both and keep them safe from harm.

Moving Process

I'm in the process of moving.

Not far. Going through everything I own. It kind of makes me reflective.

Long story short. A little over 3 years ago I quit a long angry marriage. I couldn't take it anymore. A little over 2 years ago I quit an even longer job working in criminal law. I couldn't take it anymore. Then I took off 8 months of living responsibly and went through my savings. I couldn't afford it anymore. About a year and a half ago I began picking up the debris of my life.

I had pretty good reasons for the things I did. At the time, those actions were my best choices. My marriage was Hell and my then preteen (and autistic) son was constantly being threatened with violence. My job with the lawyers was overwork and underpay, not to mention the stress level with all the changes going on in the lives of my youngest son and myself. We needed the time I took off and I needed to change jobs. I just couldn't deal with the guilt involved when you help people who hurt other people. Living with relatives at first, then moving back to the ghetto (where I was mostly raised) has reminded me that I don't want that kind of life.

When my oldest two were very young, I worked hard to get out of this area and to eventually make sure my kids would never have to deal with that kind of abject poverty again. For the most part I was successful.

I'm successful again. I'm moving out of the ghetto. Not quite to Park Avenue but close. It was good for my youngest son to get a taste of this life I think. He was born to me when I was already 30 and on my way. He thought money grew on trees and lived a charmed life really. I spoiled him because we both almost died the day he was born and I was grateful to have him. Besides he really is a sweet kid and its hard to deny him anything.

So the forced denial gave him some character and a reason to be the best he can be so he doesn't have to come back again. Meeting people from different walks of life other than just the upper middle class life we were living before has taught him the value of humanity and to look for cause when people behave badly. He's learned to forgive human foibles. My older kids learned that by 5 and 8 years old.

I did take a different sort of job, not as prestigious as my prior job. People don't look at me at awe when I name the building I work for like they did when I named the lawyers I worked for. I am expendable here.

The lawyers still call me for help, I gave up the job not two men who have always treated me with the love of indulgent older brothers and the respect of trusted colleagues. The pay and benefits at this job are better though. The responsibility is about equal, but I have people who share it. I still have to deal with people I am not proud to associate with on occasion. Those snobby born-with-a-silver-spoon types who have no clue that they actually contribute to the making of the murderers, rapist and thieves I hated working for. Mostly its business class people, like me. The Heart of America.

I have varied work responsibilities and enjoy what I do. I still bring it home once in a while but I don't wake up in the middle of the night from it.

I'll miss the rawness of this area, its kind of addictive when it isn't dangerous. There are many who live here only because of a lack of opportunity and money. I made friends early on who helped to pull me up to where they were. I didn't earn every break I had. I have been blessed.

Most of the neighbors I am leaving are salt of the Earth. They make do with what they have and they work harder in an hour than I do all day.

I don't belong here though. I still forget to lock my door sometimes. I'm not as tough as I once was. My child will never be.

I'm throwing a lot out and giving stuff away. I feel like a snob in a way because I hate living this way and can't wait to get out of it. I can't wait to have nice things again. Maybe not as nice as they were when I lived in Stepford... but nicer than what I have now.

 I'm moving up... moving out... In the right direction again.

I'm not going to forget the miles I had to walk to get here though.

I have a lot to offer a man. I read these personal ads (on the internet we call them *profiles*) and these men are all about wanting me....except I am not busty, I smoke and I have *baggage* (read a child that lives with me). Oh and while they claim to want passion, they certainly don't want any *drama*. The rest of their requirements...I can easily fill and then some. Attractive X Decent Body X Sexy X Honest X Fun X Kind X Makes Own Money X Not a "Gold Digger" X Intelligent X Sense of Humor X Passionate X (problem here is, that its attached to *DRAMA*) Likes Sports X and Motorcycles X Playful X Decent X Faithful X Owns Dresses/Skirts X Has Own Friends X Not Clingy X Still Affectionate X Romantic X Good Mix of Dependency/Independency X Can Cook Well X Crafty and Artistic X Cleans (well passably) X Loves Animals X ETC. ETC. Really I am pretty spiffy. I want to make my man feel like a freaking KING. I want to spoil him completely rotten for all other women but me. I want to wear his body out, inspire his actions and stimulate his mind. I want him to be pleased with me and proud of me. What more could a man want right? Yep..... Here I am damn near close to perfect except, I'm not: Good at ego stroking; Willing to sleep with every guy I meet (not even most of them!); Pretending to be stupid (see: ego stroking); Willing to financially support a deadbeat; Going to lie to make him feel better when he deserves to feel worse; Putting up with ANY abuse against my children, his children or me; Some Guy's Maid, Gopher, Prostitute/Mistress, Scratching Post, Valet, Punching Bag; Changing who I am to suit the way he thinks I should be; Quitting smoking unless I (as in me and me alone) want to and choose to; Staying with anyone who uses illegal drugs or is drug and/or alcohol addicted; Kissing Ass to get along; Changing my diet; Ignoring my children, no matter how old they are; Going to lie about my life and/or the people in it; Accepting less than total commitment from the one who gets it from me; Willing to sit in the shadows of his life; Willing to sit at home by the phone and wait wait wait; Blind; Deaf; Stupid; Sharing him with anyone else romantically or sexually; Settling for less than I deserve, less than I give out Asking for more than I am willing to give back or put up with. Tell the truth.... I'm going to be alone forever aren't I? C'est la vie!

the big X (repost)

I figure my life is almost but not quite half over. Which means I still have just as much time left as I've wasted. I truly do expect to live close to 100. The women in our family seem to live a long time, with the exception of my beloved cousin and her mother (whom I got my middle name from). They were exposed to asbestos in the family home though and got cancer from it. The men die early though. Its not that we actually kill them....we just wear them out I think. They last approximately 60 years and then actually have the heart attacks they say we've been giving them for years. The grandmother I was named after, my natural father's mother, was a royal bitch. She didn't have a kind word for me until about a week before she died at just under 100 years old. She was a brilliant woman though, evil but brilliant. My daughter hates clowns with a passion, so Grandma gave her one for every birthday or holiday. Lovely woman. She did like my boys. Boys are better somehow. She was mean to her daughters too. I never met my poor grandfather, Clyde. He died before I was an adult and developed a relationship with my father. I've only heard wonderful things about him though. My father died a few years after my grandmother. I loved him dearly. He was everything I hoped he would be when I finally was able to have a relationship with him in my 20's. I miss him like I do my grandfather and my best friend who are also gone from this world. He wasn't that old (grandma had him late in life, she was nearly 50!), cancer got him. My mother's mother is now in her mid 90's. She has smoked since she was 10 or 11. She started breaking all the rules long before that. She is a wonderful crotchety old woman who still has her wits about her, even if her legs are starting to give her trouble now. She still has living sisters, one is older. There are tons of stories of crazy and daring women in my family and they all seem to have this long-life genetic thing. My whole point is I am one of the spicy women found in both sides of my family that will probably live as close to forever as humanly possible. Only the good die young you know. Unless of course, someone shoots our ass. I'm not quite bullet-proof. Still I think I fall into that history of powerful woman in our family. I don't have an x gene I have an X gene. It's my heritage and my legacy to my own daughter. I figure I still have time to do some of the things I wish I had already done. I'm going to find the romantic and passionate love relationship that I so want and so need. I'm going to make the second half of my life better than the first half. One day I'm going to make a list. Like that movie ....the bucket list...
John Mayer Lyrics

Crying doesn't make it better.

What is hope anyway but the triumph over fear?

I think I still have it, maybe not for the things I want to have it for, but I have hope still. I have hope that I can stand tall again and get a grip on my life. I have hope that I can find my pride and put my heart back together. I am a grown up after all.

All my life I've known what to do when someone damaged me. I would cut them out of my life completely, I walked away and never looked back at those who harmed me.

A person could cease to exist in my own little world.

Events could be completely erased in my head.

Its been a life saver and a sanity saver.

I still know of the events and people, but it is like they happened to someone else, like I read it in a book.

I just refuse to remember. I know of at least 20 times I've done this.

Only once has it ever left any lasting damage to me and so I am stuck with 2 phobias that I am constantly fighting while yet still unwilling to actually rememember the event that caused them.

Truth be told, I've made so many adjustments that it isn't really necessary for me to overcome my convenient memory loss. I've found numerous ways to improvise.

I can't think of one good reason to remember. No good can come of it.

I can't do it at will though. I wish I could right now.

It hurts to remember.

I can't forget him when he keeps appearing.

I can't erase him from my heart and mind when it seems as though he is engraved there.

I can't fight him when he uses my own weapons (words) to hypnotise me.

I can't figure out what he wants or expects from me.

All I know is he isn't saying he wants me in his life. He infers it though.

He knows how deeply I read things, he fills his excuses with veiled hope and shrouded regret.

I don't know whether its intentional or not. He's smarter than I am. Not by much though.

I don't dare focus on the fact that maybe he is regretful and wants me to continue to hope for us. I don't want to be stupid. I've been stupid enough.

I know I am the one who chose to walk away.
I didn't cause the pain though and I didn't cause the fear that brought it.
I tried to fight it. I didn't win.
The fear was bigger than my hope.

At least I actually did something instead of sitting around whining about how scared I was that I would lose him and every dream I had. I fought to keep it. I just lost.

I asked him to stop writing me last night, I know I can't go on like this.

Its torture. Part of me wishes I didn't. I am still watching the mailbox, but the longer it goes empty the more distance there will be.

I've always hated the distance between us. It is the root of our problems. Now I am grateful because the distance might be the only way I can pretend it all didn't happen.

I tried to save him, I tried to save us....all that's left to save is me.

What I Believe

The theme of this essay is, "I believe". I believe I am going to begin by having a beer, which I truly believe is a great aid to creativity. I believe I am going to call it my muse.




I believe that I am nothing more or less than a crazy mixed up kid who grew up to be a crazy mixed up woman. I believe that I am just as good as I am evil and just as insane as I am sane.


I believe that a contradiction of terms is always a great start for a conversation.

I believe that life is not to be taken seriously, except for God, and I believe that God has a sense of humor. I believe that is why he made monkeys so silly acting and giraffes so silly looking.


I believe in the theories of creation, evolution and alien genetic experimentation. I believe the fact that we are all here is proof of all three.






I believe in practicing faith, keeping hope, and being spiritual. I believe that most religions started out being truthful. Now I believe that most religious books contain only grains of the truth with more being left out, rearranged and outright changed than what was originally left in. I believe in one God with many names who loves us all....unconditionally.


I believe the World could do with more unconditional love.


I believe that life begins with a passionate moment and that you should try to sustain that all of your life.

I believe that all things should be passionate. I believe in passionate eating. I believe you should chew and swirl your foods and drinks in your mouth. I believe in finger foods.

I believe in passionate tenets. You should stand up and be heard in your opinions just as often as you sit back and listen. I believe in speaking my mind, even when I am out of it.

I believe in passionate 2 hour lovemaking and passionate quickies. I believe in passionate perversions. I believe in passionate emotions and passionate actions.

I believe that you should be passionate about your family and passionate about your friends. I believe in unconditional love. I believe that love and discipline are not necessarily separate.

I believe in passion. I believe that passion is wasted when it only refers to sex. I believe that great sex is preferable to great wealth and I believe that a great life is preferable to a great vocation.

I believe in taking chances and paying your dues. I believe in attempting the impossible just to prove a point. I believe that scars are beautiful proof of surviving life.

I believe in finishing what I start.

I believe that if something doesn’t actually breathe, then it really isn’t worth much. I believe in the intrinsic value of life.

I believe in taking responsibility for my actions, good or bad.

I believe in "I’m sorry". I believe in forgiving. I believe that sometimes good people make bad mistakes and that bad people can make a good effort. I believe that people can change sometimes. I believe they can change back.

I believe in always playing to win, even against beginners. I believe in finishing a game even if you are losing. I believe that winners deserve a victory dance. I don’t believe that losers should be forced to thank a bunch of gloating winners for a good game. I believe the proper response to that is "I’m gonna get you next time Sucka". I believe in rematches. I believe in learning from your losses.

I believe that if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. I believe if that doesn’t work, maybe you should hire the job out. I believe that life is too short to waste much time doing something you don’t particularly like very much and/or aren’t very good at. I believe that is why we are not alone.

I believe that all children, even other peoples brats, are a gift to the world and that we should listen to their simple wisdom. I believe too many people pay too much attention to what their children are eating and not enough attention to what their children are thinking. I believe that children deserve certain rights, including safety and respect. I believe that there is no such thing as quality time, only time and you should give your children as much of that as you possibly can.



I believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Irish faeries, Leprechauns, and the Easter Bunny but not the Great Pumpkin (well maybe just a little). I believe in making your own Halloween costumes. I believe they should be scary.

I believe that making up stories is not the same as lying. I believe in pretending.

I believe in playing in the rain. I believe in squishing your toes in the mud. I believe that every child should at least eat one real worm. I believe that a child who always has a clean face and hands has terrible parents. I believe that children should be filthy by the end of every day. I believe a clean child is not having enough fun.

I believe that birthdays are the most important holidays of all.

I believe in thanking my Mother for all she went through to bring me out on my birthday.

I believe in love that lasts forever and in love that lasts a while. I believe in love at first sight, second sight, and I believe sometimes it grows out of long long friendships. I believe that there really is a very thin line between love and hate.

I believe in a woman’s right to choose, but I believe that the choice ought to be life.

I believe in always saying Hello and Goodbye. Even when it hurts.

I believe in keeping promises or not making them. I believe that a person is only as good as their word.

I believe that we put too much stock in maturity and not enough stock in immaturity. I believe we try too hard to be grown up and not hard enough to keep the wonderment of a child. I believe in 2nd, 3rd, and 4th childhoods. I believe in having even more if you can.

Now I believe I am going to have another beer. C’mere Muse!

Compatibility Issues

One of my biggest problems with compatibility has to do with my growing up poor and tough. Most people in that situation are not real big intellectuals so those who are born into families that value the things I've learned to value are a bit put off by the fact that I am so tough and dare I say *street smart*. The men I’m attracted to and who are attracted to me, tend to be from the other side of town. Often they are quite surprised by the truth of me. Its not like I get into bar fights or anything.... but there are some differences between me and the upper class ladies I used to socialize with and sometimes still must.... I won't listen to a hypocrite drone on and on for one thing.... I will call them on it every time... I won't pretend to be someone I'm not anymore, even if it isn't socially acceptable . I guess I really just don't care what a lot of people think about me. I like stating my views even if they are different. I can take a challenge and enjoy a debate. At any rate I wonder if these basic facets of my personality are some of what dooms me to unhappy relationships and I wonder if a good relationship is worth pursuing if I have to change the very basis of who I am and what I want to stand for. Anymore I'm thinking "nope....not worth it". I realize I don't have to be middle class to be happy. Truth be told, I wasn’t happy when I was better than middle class. Money can’t buy it. Right now I feel pretty damned happy and I don't have anything really good but this magic box and my worthless car... I surround myself with people who love and accept me and walk away from those who don’t. I rent cheap. My yard is a mess because I gave up all my garden tools in the divorce. Yet I'm happy. Home is where I want to be. Life is funny isn't it. All those things I worked for I gave up. The life I strove so hard to exist in, I walked away from and the one I ran away from I ran right back to. The only thing that is missing from my life is romantic love. My problem is my lifestyle and ethical leanings are definitely *tough chick from the hood* but my work life and intellectual capacity are more in tune with *uppercrust and nosejobs*. As always...I end up divided among two extremes.

Raising Kids or Raising Hell?

I believe in giving kids a lot of freedom but it must be weighted at the same time with restriction. Absolute freedom will not make your children love you... It may however make your children unloveable to others. Use your own judgment... draw a line... It doesn't have to be my line... but know why you draw it, and don't let your child cross it. I had limits.. I used the word "No" when necessary while still giving my children the freedom to use temporary color (like pink) on her hair...to allow a pierced ear (on my elder son) and to grow long hair. Parents you can give your child freedom... but allowing anarchy to reign in your home is a big mistake. Remember the children you raise will one day most likely be responsible for decisions that not only affect you and their possible future families but the world in general. Please give them a lesson in restraint once in a while! EVERYBODY ELSE I fail my children everyday, just like Everybody Else's parents do. I buy them items they shouldn't have because Everybody Else's mother does. I let them go places Everybody Else's father lets Everybody go. They want to be like Everybody Else. In this society, if your child is not like Everybody Else, neither you nor your child will be accepted. Everybody is in charge here. No one is brave enough to take Everybody Else to task or to enforce the rules that would remove the little monster from power. Everybody Else has unlimited access to cable T.V., and internet connections. Everybody Else has a CD player and is allowed to listen to the profane lyrics that pass for music today. Everybody Else has his own car and stays out as late as he wants. He chooses his own friends, his parents trust his judgment better than their own. Everybody's folks seem to believe that discipline unduly stifles his creativity. Frankly, Everybody is spoiled. Everybody Else's parents let their children dress in ways that express their individuality, no skirt is too short, no shirt too revealing to be worn. Everybody Else's baby brother is wearing "colors" and his big sister wears dark gothic styles with a small silver chain running from her eyebrow piercing and other piercings all the way to her naval ring. Everybody favors pants loose enough to show his undershorts, he has a skull tattooed on his arm. Everybody's parents understand it is only a phase that the kids go through. Everybody's parents think I have a problem because "you can't judge a book by its cover". Wonder if the publishing houses know that? At school dances all music is allowed because if it isn't, Everybody's mother complains of losing freedoms or of being forced to bear discrimination (why is having discriminating tastes such a "bad" thing?) or that such language is usual and normal and should, therefore, be allowed. Everybody Else does it so that makes it ok. What ever happened to "good taste" and "being classy"? My mother used to say that she never met Everybody Else's mother but she was glad she didn't have to raise this kid because that child was headed toward unimaginable terrors, troubles and certain death. I never was able to do what Everybody Else could do, never had the things that Everybody Else had. The few times I tried to be like Everybody Else in misbehavior, my parents came down hard on me. Funny, the Everybody Elses that I used to quote have pretty much lived up to my mother's expectations. We want to give our children the freedom we never had, but instead give them chaos. We want them to have free expression and adventure, but it somehow turns into foolhardiness. We want to give them the value of a worldly education....but we're finding out that knowledge is worthless without comprehension. I plan to be a lot more like my own mother from now on and a lot less like Everybody Else's. I wish Everyone Else would do the same.