Waiting on me this time.

Waiting on me this time.

It’s odd how a random chick flick has given me a startling insight. Crying…as I always do during these movies I had a powerful realization. I’ve always been waiting on someone else to make my life fulfilled. A lover, a strong shoulder, a voice of logic and reason amidst the chaos of emotion that takes me over. I gasped, and cried….a dramatic scene in the movie to parallel a dramatic scene in a cluttered 2 bedroom apartment. A young girl and a young woman – much the same. I have pain like that of someone who has watched someone close to them slowly die. I have the pain of witnessing my own death and isolation from the world. Take and Take and Take. I have taken so much giving becomes uncomfortable. Forgive me for the lack of better words but what the fuck have I been doing? Wasting away….wasting time….wasting life. I have been tortured with ghosts that have only disappointed and lead to confusion. I have because I have allowed self pity to take over and mourning of the loss of my ambition, sense of self, and spirit. Quirky emotional defenses and attitude must not be mistaken for a one’s SOUL.

I look across the room and into my son’s bedroom where he hangs upside down from his bed eating crackers and watching Power Rangers. Emotion and tears violently shake me awake. Was that just happiness mixed in with the stream of salty agony? My God…..it is! The soul of a boy who knows nothing except of what things really are. I was given a child when I was a child myself.….a forced transition to the grown up world of responsibility at the age of 19. He was exactly what I never wanted and now he is exactly what I need and depend on. No judgments and assumptions to speak of. INNOCENCE. Right now, he is using my bra as a weapon against unsuspecting furniture. He is lost in a world of imagination and adventure. I think, I will join him in his noble fight and we shall have chocolate cake in our victory celebration and then….I will rain kisses and hugs and put him in his bed…then he will crawl into my bed sometime between then and dawn. I will wake up to the sound of an annoying alarm - another tedious day. Here is where my son saves me and here is why another day becomes a day of wonder and excitement. A few soft spoken words: “Good morning mommy.” Those words I hear every morning and all too frequently I never let them sink in. I get wrapped up in my own selfish world to here the plain and simply voice of reason and logic that my child unknowingly gives. Yes baby, it is a good morning. My son is brilliant. Amen.

A view

Instead of fowarding this ,I thought I would just post it....I whole heartedly agree.
******

In light of the many perversions and jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke, it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.

Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her "How could God let something like this happen?" (regarding the attacks on Sept. 11th).

Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said "I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives.


And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?"

In light of recent events...Terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found recently) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said - OK.

Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school the Bible says thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.

Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said OK.

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.


Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."

Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.

Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire but when you start sending me ssages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing.

Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.


Are you laughing?


Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they WILL think of you for sending it. Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.

Pjs of Raid please.

I have a bug bite on my ass. I discovered it in the middle of the night.(I wanted to investigate this horror then, but the need for sleep took priority.)I forgot to look at it this morning and now I am work and it isn't like I can run and look at my butt in the mirror in the ladies room. Someone would surely catch me and that is just not an option. What if my butt is turning black and I don't know it? I keep getting mental images of those giant mosquito like things that you see in sci-fi movies. You know the ones. They will rip your face off with one deadly bite!

This is, in the least, very disturbing. I usually have trouble falling asleep because I have a fear of bugs crawling on me and not knowing it. One little itch in my hair, across my arm, or near my face and my paranoia takes off. Flees? A brown recluse? Maybe it was a terrifying (but relatively harmless) earwig. It could have been some repulsive parasite that originally belonged to my cat and found its way to my nice warm body - looking for an entrance to feed off my blood. *gasp* THE HORROR!If I let myself get too worked up ,eventually, I'll get up and turn on the light, shake out the blankets and sheets, check myself over, and THEN try to fall back asleep. All of this is not the point. The devastating reality is that a vexatious insect decided to creep it's way across my skin and over my butt and effin BITE it. How am I NOT going to think about this all damn day?

at least it's something.

Falling sand turns into a rain of shiny steel
- the formation of isolation
Sustenance that is cousin to asphyxiation
- hot air exhaled from my mouth
"Hush", I tell myself. You are killing me.


****

I tried, thats all. 5 lines. no revison. never revsion...I should change that habit.

i am reminded

I have a numb mind – this pisses me off more than I can express. Inadequate creativity is more than a little frustrating. I can’t write but David Reed Powell can and I am envious. Here is one of his poems:

Love Song and Sonnet from someone dying
II

If I should bring you roses, or puppets, or a piece of string
And ask you to keep them for my sake,
Do not take my gifts as simple things
Representative of a spirit half awake
To propriety, or gestures half meant
And only half understood. I am lost.
In a world that I have not made and am sent
Reeling on errands senseless to me at most.
Therefore, I give you gifts as parts of me,
Meant to imply when I am gone that I am near
And meant when I am near to be
Echoes of meanings that formerly were clear.
It is better to be quietly misunderstood in your arms,
Than to be bringing you gifts, and die, and
Sound alarms

.


I found his book of poetry titled Strawberries at Goodwill.