Just a Daily Dreamer

Ready for Spring!

2012-01-06T16:29:00.001-05:00

I just got my sunflower seeds in the mail and here's the ones I'm planting this season!

	Pro Cut Orange Ht. 60-72" GERMINATION: 7-14 days at 70-75ºF (21-24ºC).CULTURE: Outdoors (recommended) - After last frost, in groups of 3-4. Thin. Indoors - Sow in final container 3-4 weeks prior to planting out. Dislikes root disturbance.GROWING ON: Hold indoors no longer than 4 weeks. Provide full sun, high fertility, good air movement.LIGHT/SOIL: Full sun; light, well-drained soil.SPACING: 9-24".USE: Cut or dried, back of beds, screen.HARVEST: Fresh - flowers just beginning to open. Dried - flowers completely open. Hang or use silica gel. DAY-LENGTH NEUTRAL - Day length does not directly influence flowering.
	Autumn Beauty Ht. 60"GERMINATION: 7-14 days at 70-75ºF (21-24ºC).CULTURE: Outdoors (recommended) - After last frost, in groups of 3-4. Thin. Indoors - Sow in final container 3-4 weeks prior to planting out. Dislikes root disturbance.GROWING ON: Hold indoors no longer than 4 weeks. Provide full sun, high fertility, good air movement.LIGHT/SOIL: Full sun; light, well-drained soil.SPACING: 9-24".USE: Cut or dried, back of beds, screen.HARVEST: Fresh - flowers just beginning to open. Dried - flowers completely open. Hang or use silica gel. DAY-LENGTH NEUTRAL - Day length does not directly influence flowering.
	Ring of fire Ht. 40-50".GERMINATION: 7-14 days at 70-75ºF (21-24ºC).CULTURE: Outdoors (recommended) - After last frost, in groups of 3-4. Thin. Indoors - Sow in final container 3-4 weeks prior to planting out. Dislikes root disturbance.GROWING ON: Hold indoors no longer than 4 weeks. Provide full sun, high fertility, good air movement.LIGHT/SOIL: Full sun; light, well-drained soil.SPACING: 9-24".USE: Cut or dried, back of beds, screen.HARVEST: Fresh - flowers just beginning to open. Dried - flowers completely open. Hang or use silica gel. DAY-LENGTH NEUTRAL - Day length does not directly influence flowering.
	Big Smile GERMINATION: 7-14 days at 70-75ºF (21-24ºC).CULTURE: Indoors - Direct seed into container placing 1 seed per 6" pot or 3 seeds per gallon container. If transplanting to beds, wait for 3-4 true leaf pairs to appear. Outdoors (recommended) - Sow after last frost in groups of 3-4 seeds 1/2" deep. Thin to one plant when true leaves appear.GROWING ON: 50-60ºF (10-16ºC) night, 70-80ºF (21-27ºC) day. Dwarf varieties stretch at warmer temps.LIGHT/SOIL: Full sun; light, well-drained soil. Height: 10-17" in 4-6" pots. 12-42" in beds. See individual varieties for specifics.SPACING: 8-12".USE: Containers, mass plantings in beds.
	Moulin Rouge averaging 30". HtGERMINATION: 7-14 days at 70-75ºF (21-24ºC).CULTURE: Outdoors (recommended) - After last frost, in groups of 3-4. Thin. Indoors - Sow in final container 3-4 weeks prior to planting out. Dislikes root disturbance.GROWING ON: Hold indoors no longer than 4 weeks. Provide full sun, high fertility, good air movement.LIGHT/SOIL: Full sun; light, well-drained soil.SPACING: 9-24".USE: Cut or dried, back of beds, screen.HARVEST: Fresh - flowers just beginning to open. Dried - flowers completely open. Hang or use silica gel. DAY-LENGTH NEUTRAL - Day length does not directly influence flowering.
	Sunflower Holiday Ht. 60-84".GERMINATION: 7-14 days at 70-75ºF (21-24ºC).CULTURE: Outdoors (recommended) - After last frost, in groups of 3-4. Thin. Indoors - Sow in final container 3-4 weeks prior to planting out. Dislikes root disturbance.GROWING ON: Hold indoors no longer than 4 weeks. Provide full sun, high fertility, good air movement.LIGHT/SOIL: Full sun; light, well-drained soil.SPACING: 9-24".USE: Cut or dried, back of beds, screen.HARVEST: Fresh - flowers just beginning to open. Dried - flowers completely open. Hang or use silica gel. DAY-LENGTH NEUTRAL - Day length does not directly influence flowering.
	Giant Sungold Ht. 60-72”GERMINATION: 7-14 days at 70-75ºF (21-24ºC).CULTURE: Outdoors (recommended) - After last frost, in groups of 3-4. Thin. Indoors - Sow in final container 3-4 weeks prior to planting out. Dislikes root disturbance.GROWING ON: Hold indoors no longer than 4 weeks. Provide full sun, high fertility, good air movement.LIGHT/SOIL: Full sun; light, well-drained soil.SPACING: 9-24".USE: Cut or dried, back of beds, screen.HARVEST: Fresh - flowers just beginning to open. Dried - flowers completely open. Hang or use silica gel. DAY-LENGTH NEUTRAL - Day length does not directly influence flowering.
	Velvet Queen Ht. 60”GERMINATION: 7-14 days at 70-75ºF (21-24ºC).CULTURE: Outdoors (recommended) - After last frost, in groups of 3-4. Thin. Indoors - Sow in final container 3-4 weeks prior to planting out. Dislikes root disturbance.GROWING ON: Hold indoors no longer than 4 weeks. Provide full sun, high fertility, good air movement.LIGHT/SOIL: Full sun; light, well-drained soil.SPACING: 9-24".USE: Cut or dried, back of beds, screen.HARVEST: Fresh - flowers just beginning to open. Dried - flowers completely open. Hang or use silica gel. DAY-LENGTH NEUTRAL - Day length does not directly influence flowering.

I ordered all of my sunflower seeds from www.johnyseeds.com and got free shipping using this code: 12-1005. All of the information above came from Johnny's Seeds..

Sittin' in the grass...

2011-10-18T15:43:00.000-04:00

Had to escape studying for awhile and go sit in the grass with my camera. This is what I found.

My Pioneer Woman Photo Assignment

2011-02-16T20:09:00.001-05:00

love1
Originally uploaded by justadailydreamer

My kiddos actually kissing... can you believe it?

YUM!!! Maple Orange Glazed Carrots Recipe | Simply Recipes

2010-11-17T16:56:00.000-05:00

Maple Orange Glazed Carrots Recipe | Simply Recipes

Fatal Familial Insomnia: No Sleep And Then You Die | The Neuro-Protective Lifestyle

2010-11-13T18:39:00.001-05:00

Fatal Familial Insomnia: No Sleep And Then You Die | The Neuro-Protective Lifestyle

A very interesting disease that has symptoms developing in middle age including the inability to fall into deep sleep. Very interesting!

Dr. Bill Bass is coming to town!!

2010-11-07T13:44:00.001-05:00

Here's the info from the Kingsport Public Library Website:

Dr. Bill Bass Program

November 2, 2010

WHEN:
December 2
WHERE:
Dobyns-Bennett High School Little Theatre
TIME:
6:00 p.m. - doors open for book signings/photo ops (books available for purchase)
7:00 p.m. Dr. Bass speaks
COST:
Admission $10 adults
$5 students
Dr. Bass, a world-renowned forensic anthropologist, founded the University of Tennessee's Anthropology Research Facility - the Body Farm. He is also half of the writing duo Jefferson Bass.
Sponsored by the Friends of the Kingsport Public Library and Eastman Chemical Co. Profits from the event will be donated to the Kingsport Public Library Building Fund.
Advanced tickets go on sale at the Kingsport Public Library on Tuesday, November 2. Cash or check ONLY. No group discounts.

Visit this website: http://www.jeffersonbass.com/index.php

A Taboo Subject... I love pushing the envelope on tough topics.

2010-11-07T13:33:00.002-05:00

I finally finished my Developmental Psych paper, and what did I write about? Something that I doubt anyone else is. Something warped from my own childhood. I tried really hard to use a different topic, but kept coming back to this one. It's definitely not coffee table reading material. But just maybe, just maybe writing about it in my own little way will help someone else somewhere a long way down the food chain of life. I don't know. I actually felt more clinical writing about it this time. Maybe I'm cured! :-) Or maybe my life is just way to happy to let anything pull me down. I was really wanting badly to write about how ex-wives talking badly about fathers warps children, but I guess I need more material. HA!

Anyway, here is my paper in it's roughest form.

Sibling Sexual Abuse: Not Child’s Play

“Child sexual abuse is any interaction between a child and an adult (or another child) in which the child is used for the sexual stimulation of the perpetrator or an observer” (APA, 2010).

Sexual abuse between siblings remains one of the last taboos to be addressed by society, yet it is very real and its effects mirror those of any other child abuse victim. Sibling abuse is defined as sexual behavior between siblings that is not age appropriate, not transitory, and not motivated by developmentally, mutually appropriate curiosity (Caffaro & Conn-Caffaro, 1998). This form of sexual abuse is not about curiosity, but instead about abuse of power and usually occurs where there is a developmental age difference of more than three years and where there is any use of force, tricks or coercion by one of the siblings. Trust is essential in families, but a sibling who has been given a lot of responsibility and power may abuse that trust. Sibling sexual abuse often takes place when parents fail to pay attention to trust that they have placed in one of their children (SASIAN, 1994).

The misuse of power that is portrayed in sibling sexual abuse tends to show up in other ways as well. These siblings may put down, tease, or belittle their younger siblings in the form of emotional abuse. There may also be physical abuse that would include hitting, pinching and smothering of younger siblings, which the older sibling will discount to their parents as rough housing or child’s play. This type of abuse is not child’s play, but about power and control. Our society explains away brother-sister incest with “boys will be boys,” “you were just kids,” or “kids experiment.” However, there is a recurring theme in sibling sexual abuse that includes power, control, threats, secrecy, coercion, attention, and sexual acts that are not normal behavior for typical siblings (Shaw, 2000).

For the most part, survivors of childhood sexual abuse do not tell as children, or do not tell at the time the abuse is going on. “Children who have been sexually abused may respond with self-blame and self-doubt. They may fear the perpetrator and the possible consequence of disclosure. Hence, in order to survive sexual abuse by a trusted family member, children make accommodating efforts to accept the abuse and to keep the abuse secret” (London & Bruck, 2005). Living in a constant state of terror can also contribute to learned helplessness. Learned helplessness is a conditioning behavior due to prolonged exposure to uncontrollable events causing passivity; making one believe they can no longer control the outcome of similar future events (Seligman, 1975). After repeated abuse, a child will believe that there is no escape from the abuser and will adapt their behavior to believe they are helpless against it. While childhood sexual abuse is now widely talked about in our society, sexual abuse by siblings is still very much a taboo subject. As such, survivors feel a great deal of shame, which perpetuates the need for silence (Pandora’s Project, 2009).

“Young children live in the frightening land of giants [and] depend on the benevolent wisdom, guidance, and restraint of the adults around them” (Craig & Dunn, 2007, p. 234).

The factors of sibling sexual abuse include neglect. If children are neglected, either physically or emotionally, they might engage in a full range of sexual activities. Part of their behavior might come from their need to give and receive comfort when they are not getting any from their parents. This may be how the sexual activity between siblings starts – as experimental and mutual. However, because of power differences between children, it rarely is. If the behavior continues, it can become abusive, especially if one of the children wants to stop and the other does not. Other factors include lack of sex education, inadequate socialization, denial, access to pornography, an older sibling given too much responsibility, children who have witnessed or experienced sexual abuse, and denial (SASIAN, 1994). “Adolescent boys are known to be responsible for as much as 50 percent of child sexual abuse” (Hyde & Forsynth, 1997, p. 26). “Sexual abuse [of any type] is more often inflicted on girls, physical abuse more often on boys” (Craig & Dunn, 2007, p. 235).

For many years, it has been thought that sibling sexual abuse is harmless and does not cause any significant effects on adult functioning, health, or relationships. This line of thinking is what has caused sibling sexual abuse to be traumatizing for the survivors of the abuse. They have been taught that not all family secrets should be let known and told that it was normal childhood behavior. However, these survivors show many of the typical effects of child abuse that include: somatic disturbances, parenthood problems (worrying about their relationship with their children), poor self-concept/self-esteem, re-victimization, self blame, guilt, sexual dysfunction, issues with trust and intimacy, PTSD, eating disorders, self-injury, substance abuse, depression, and sexual promiscuity (Pandora’s Project, 2009). Adult survivors may appear to have everything “together” and be “on top of things.” This can be an outer reflection of a pervasive inner sense of unworthiness or inadequacy. Denial and depression are often connected to various expressions of a “performance syndrome”. The abuse causes one to feel like they are not good enough and must prove their goodness and ability to appear like everyone else. Survivors may show signs of over-responsibility and a feeling of needing to be in control of every outcome. This causes depression from the unhealthy load of unrealistic expectations from one’s self (Heitritter & Vought, 2006).

Resentment does set in toward family members for the survivors of this type of abuse for inadequately protecting them from the abuser. Family get-togethers are often strained for those who have come out against the abuse or those who have not come out. The most healing benefit to those survivors is for this subject to be referenced in literature and media as real and no longer treated as child’s play. Sibling sexual abuse is as real as the words written before you.

Deep Into the Darkness

Crawling deep into the darkness, I found my refuge from the pain,

I was safe under the house while he shouted out my name.

Deeper I would go until my own hand I could not see,

There I would close my eyes and dream of a different me.

When finally it was safe, I would sneak out to the light,

And run to my room until my parents came home at night.

Bolting the big locks on my doors to keep the monster out,

Beating on my door while my name he would shout.

It’s not fair that you left me there without you,

And now you think I make up stories that are not true.

When I was feeling low I’d finally give in to his demand,

And let him touch my naked body with his dirty hands.

What other attention was there for me to seek?

I was just a young girl and… weak.

Everything was evil and oh so wrong back then,

How could I tell you when it was such a sin?

Into the storage barn he would take me along with his friend,

And that is when my innocence would end all over again.

Where were you, I wish I had known-

But you put locks on my doors, so something must have shown.

The stolen gifts he would give me and the secrets he would tell,

Sinking me deeper into his darkness, and further into my shell.

I kept seeking his acceptance although I don’t know why.

And back up his stories with lie after lie.

Even your blinded eye saw the anger in him.

But from where did it actually stem.

Was it the spankings with both our pants pulled down?

Naked in front of each other being beaten, tears spilling to the ground.

Had someone done to him what he was doing to me?

How will I ever know the truth and be set free?

Did you ever take the time to tell me you were proud?

Of whom I was becoming or was I just a face in the crowd?

Did you tell me daily that you loved me?

And to dream that there was no limit to what I could be?

No, I was to be seen and not heard.

So my lips never escaped one word.

I resent the way you raised me and blindly think you did so well,

The heritage you gave me has caused my life such hell.

By believing that abuse is what I deserve and none should I tell.

Too bad for you because your secrets are out,

Maybe you don’t believe, but with them you hold no clout.

You wonder why I do not come to see you,

Why would I?

Stay behind your cloud of pride,

I know you cannot take a side.

Be there for him and his girl,

She will need you in her world.

There’ll be a day when darkness falls on her,

But this time, remember my words.

He has an evil deep within,

Who knows when with her it will begin.

You cannot save me and nor do I wish you too.

I have a loneliness that is new.

But I like it here without you.

(Medlock, 2006)

References

Caffaro, J.V. & Conn-Caffaro, A. (1998). Sibling abuse trauma. Assessment & Intervention with Children, Families, and Adults. Binghamton, NY: Haworth Press.

Craig, G. J., & Dunn, W. L. (2007). Early Childhood: Personality and Sociocultural Development. In Understanding Human Development (pp.234-235). New Jersey: Pearson.

Heitritter, & Vought. (2006). Helping Victims of Sexual Abuse. Minnesota: Bethany House.

Hyde, & Forsynth. (1997). The Sexual Abuse of Children and Adolescents. Connecticut: Millbrook Press.

London, K., & Bruck, M. (2005). Disclosure Of Child Sexual Abuse. American Psychological Association, 11(1), 194-226. Retrieved from

http://www.apa.org/pubs/journals/features/law-111194.pdf

Medlock, S. A. (2006, June 28). Deep Into The Darkness [Web log post] Retrieved from No Longer Seen And Not Heard: http://theheardpoet.blogspot.com/2006/06/sibling-incest.html

Seligman, M.E.P. (1975). Generality of learned helplessness in man. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 31, 311-327.

Shaw, R. (2000). Not Child's Play: An anthology on brother-sister incest.

Maryland: Lunchbox Press.

APA [American Psychological Association]. (2010). Retrieved from

http://www.apa.org

Pandora's Project [Support and resources for survivors of rape and sexual abuse]. (2009). Retrieved from http://www.pandys.org/articles/siblingsexualabuse.html

SASIAN [Sibling Sexual Abuse - A Parents Guide]. (1994). Retrieved from http://www.sasian.org/

Hot Springs Spa & The Iron Horse Station

2010-10-24T19:10:00.003-04:00

Hot Springs, North Carolina is one of the most beautiful, relaxing, and non-commercialized places to spend a weekend. There's barely a stop sign and then you've passed it completely. But if you slow down and take it all in... you're sure to return.

We stayed at the Iron Horse Station, which is about the only bar, restaurant and hotel in town. One of the best items on the menu is fried green tomatoes served with a spicy honey mustard. The hotel is nice but it is also VERY close to the train tracks. Very very close.

Just don't leave your window open all night like we did :)

See the train tracks in the background? Yeah, very loud at 3am. But the furnishings at this hotel are nice.

There's no television in your room, but they do offer reading materials. And this isn't a place to come to and watch television anyway.

There is a queen size bed with a fluffy down comforter.

Large bathroom...

with a big shower... shampoo and body wash provided.

Robes available to use.

Homey decor.

This hallway leads to the top floor of the restaurant that is provided for hotel guests only. There are several tables, a big screen, couch, and a dart board available for use. And you can sit up here and order your food, watch the game and listen to live blue grass away from the rest of the crowd.

Believe it or not - You can get wireless internet but you share a phone with everyone else in the hotel :)

But when you are in a town like this, in the middle of nowhere, who really cares about technology? Just take a short walk and you'll find a hot spring spa across the road.

There is nothing snooty about this resort and spa. They offer campsites as a part of their accommodations and you walk into the woods with campfires to meet your spa destination. The road there is gravel.

Kids and dogs are welcome.

There are remnants of the old bathhouse left still standing after two fires had destroyed them.

The view from the baths (hot tubs) along the river is wonderful.

For a complete history of The Hot Springs Spa... click here.

For a list of services with pricing... click here.

Our favorite place to stay near Hot Springs is the Briar Rose Farm.

Take a break from the real world and have a relaxing vacation without television, traffic, commercialism and everything else that makes life hectic and enjoy Hot Springs, NC.

Make-up is optional.

Even the cider is spiked.

I promise that time slows down, everything you see is beautiful, and you'll come home relaxed.

~Dreamer~

The Big Five Personality Test

2010-09-12T23:01:00.000-04:00

I'm a O90-C64-E42-A79-N9 Big Five!!

May not make sense...

2010-09-08T22:18:00.000-04:00

But if I didn't get this out of me, I would never be able to concentrate tonight. So here it is:

You hide your face from the shine,

Of those that tempt you to love,

Freely accepting without whine,

Simply living with wings of a dove.

Scorn thrown their way,

Your pity is your shame.

Dare to see what lay

In the face of freedom’s blame.

Fingers always pointing,

Gossip feeds your gut.

Strife wills an anointing,

Of your own bloodlust.

Tossing at you a smile,

In hate’s direction so wild,

Walls crumble and defile,

Love empties as if a child.

Complexity is hard to find,

In hearts of simple and kind.

Our heart so easy to see,

When you set your judgment free.

The first day of school...

2010-08-30T23:00:00.000-04:00

Figured out that I have a sort of theme going with this semester's classes:

Mind.... Development Psychology
Body.... Microbiology and Pathophysiology
Spirit.... American Literature

Meanwhile, planning and anticipating this...

And going to class FOUR NIGHTS A WEEK, working full time, writing checks for lunch money, figuring out apoptosis from caseous necrosis, sitting on my feet til they're numb, keeping a daily planner, fixing ramen noodles for dinner, throwing bills in a pile marked 'when I get time', watering my neighbors flowers, throwing the cat off my keyboard, kissing my kids goodnight while peeling cat puke off their covers, recovering from calling Freud a nutjob to my entire Psych class because his diagnosis involves penis envy of your father cause you wanna have sex with your momma, trying to remember to not always speak my mind, and dangit I forgot to ask my daughter for a bra for my best friend and it's too late cause I just got her stoned on Tylenol PM so she'd chill and fall asleep. Ahhh! Welcome to the first day of school. :)

Hope

2010-08-14T10:10:00.000-04:00

I am not an inspiration. I find simple pleasures in life and I try to love with all my heart. I have hurt those close to me, strangers, and my cat. And I really doubt I'm the inspiring type. You have come across the inspiring. They are genuine. They truly believe what they believe and it is like enjoying a beautiful sunset or painting when they share their heart with you.

I grew up in a home where religion was something to follow blindly because that is the truth and you should never question the truth. At least my parents did not like for any of us to question it and all the while, they would flip flop from church to church and denomination to denomination quite likely that THEY QUESTIONED IT. Once I asked my father when I was a grown woman, "Don't you ever feel the love of Jesus in your heart for others who are struggling and love them exactly where they are?" I mean this was the Son of God that he worshiped. I surely thought he understood His love. He replied, "We don't get to do whatever we want and expect Him to love us." So I eventually gave up trying to get this man's acceptance along with his god's acceptance (which I do not think has anything to do with Jesus) since there was no humanly way to live up to it.

Then came Hope. A woman who embodies love and gives it freely to those that seek it and those who think she is just a bit strange. She is not strange... she is a just a genuine person. There are not a lot of genuine people out there in the world so I guess that is why they stick out as strange. She is caring, accepting, loving, and real. She believes that her first ministry is her family and she cherishes each of them. Wow. I wanted her to adopt me immediately when she said that. Sitting across the counter from me at work, she endeavored to teach me how to pray for forgiveness. - Forgiveness that I needed to have in my own heart. She even did hand gestures so that I would remember a scripture Romans 5:5. Look it stuck... I remembered. Women like Hope are absolute treasures to humanity. I haven't prayed that prayer because I'm not ready to do that kind of forgiving.... yet. But it's nice after all the brow-beating to have someone like her pop in and challenge me that not all religious people are fake, unloving, bias people who look to find what's wrong with others instead of looking at their own heart. THAT... is a giant leap for me.

So for now, love is my religion. My family is my ministry. I will not stop questioning and seek truth. I will enjoy who I am and stop scolding the little girl locked inside. I will do my best to learn from others and keep my mind open and heart available. I will live each day as if it could be my last. Moreover, I will seek forgiveness because to really love you have to know how to forgive. Thank you Hope.

Lace Embers.... (for my sister)

2010-07-29T19:11:00.000-04:00

Each day it sat there locked away

You were gone but it would stay.

Until I found inside of me

A burning flame I would set free.

We pulled it out and doused it with oil

Lace and pearls lay in soil

Flames lick at the memory of us

All the love I had and trust.

You said I was the one

Now you are gone.

Burn on.

Lace embers barely linger

Your ring not on this finger

Keep on passing by

Don’t look back

I’ll not cry

Just pack.

Burn on.

That dress I wore won’t hold me here

Freedom from you I’ll not fear

The lace dances to a song in my head

Flames dancing red.

Your house sits for sale

Empty and alone

Where I’m going – I’ll not tell

For once I’m on my own.

You said I was the one

Now you are gone.

Burn on.

Lace embers barely linger

Your ring not on this finger

Keep on passing by

Don’t look back

I’ll not cry

Just pack.

Burn on.

Sincerity In Simplicity

2010-03-30T00:08:00.000-04:00

There is sincerity in simplicity. We all love to make things more complicated than they are rather than just enjoy something for exactly what it is, and rarely do we find the truth comforting so we complicate it. We all start out simple as babies. We need nourishment, to be held and comforted, and our diaper changed. We end our lives the same way when we grow old. We revert to babies with those same simple needs. We love pets because all you have to do is give them food and water and in return they give us unconditional love. Where do we go wrong as we grow up and turn into adults? What happens to the sincerity of our words? Why do we have the need to complicate the simple? Why can’t we say what we mean and do what we say?

As we grow up, we learn to expect perfection in our lives no matter the cost. If we turn to religion instead of faith, we have a set of rules to follow and if we mess up – we tend to fear the judgment of others. When a woman asks if she looks fat, her significant other better be there to tell her she doesn’t even if she needs to compete on "America’s Top Loser". We do this with our children too. If they ask us where babies come from when they’re four, we tell them storks. We can’t handle the truth that comes with sincerity in all of its simplicity. And we don’t think that others can handle it either. Our government is full of everything but sincere individuals and we wonder why we’re in the state we’re in. It is all about how things look but not how they really are and that is what we’ve comforted ourselves into believing is truth. We get loans to obtain more things in our life to make us feel better about ourselves when it turns out that we feel more stressed about how we are going to go about paying for them.

Stop and take a look at your life and think about doing the two following steps towards gaining sincerity in simplicity:

1. Identify what is important to you, and eliminate everything else.

2. Be genuine in all that you do.

The first step is about simplifying your life and getting all of the emotional and physical clutter out of it. The second step is about living a sincere life. You will have more time, more money, and feel better just getting rid of things. Everything you own has upkeep, costs, and absorbs your time. Emotional clutter is the energy vampires that prey on you, soaking in all of your energies and leaving you zapped. Let them go too. I promise they’ll find someone new, because that is how they found you. Spend time alone so that you can find your genuine self if you’ve lost her along the path of being what everyone needs. Then be her… and don’t settle for less than exactly who you are.

Suzanna fishing... sort of.

2010-03-07T10:29:00.001-05:00

suzanna 003
Originally uploaded by kuntrygurlatheart

More like "How to beat a worm to death"

How to beat a worm to death!

2010-03-07T10:23:00.001-05:00

We went fishing yesterday. Not a single fish was caught. But Suzanna learned how to beat a worm to death by casting her line seven million times and then exclaimed, "I'm getting bites" because little by little the poor worm was falling off her hook. Take a look!

Suzanna fishing... sort of.

She just kept casting, PLOP! And then reeling... poor little worm was beaten to death. Then it was time for another worm to be tortured since she kept getting so many nibbles.

Gavin was into the manly part of fishing.... No! That is just a root beer, I promise :-)

I was pretty much just into the serenity of it all... the peacefulness was so nice. Just stood there or sat there waiting.... for nothing! Girl needs some exercise... reminds me why I need to get that gym membership. Eu!

Transportation, new fishing poles, night crawlers and lake without fish brought to us by the fishing buddy of all fishing buddies, Uncle Sam!

The joy of being an aunt...

2010-02-28T11:16:00.000-05:00

is the only joy comparable to being a mom. It's totally different than motherhood, but it's awesome-ness ranks right up there. When I was going through all of my old pictures to find the ones of my grandma, I started a pile of my favorite niece shots. Some of these girls I feel like I grew up with... that means I got to be the "cool" aunt :)

Rachelle, Kayla and Meg.

My little flower girls, pre-wedding. No matter how beautiful they have grown up to be... this is the image burnt in my brain.

Rachelle, when she was my little mini-me.

I dressed her up, put make-up on her like she was my little dolly.

I still make her sit on my lap.

And sometimes... she went bear-naked. :) See what I mean? She was my toy.

Did I mention that I LOVE to embarrass her? I love to embarrass her.
Rachelle, honey have you pooped lately?

I think this picture totally reflects their personalities.

Tiff - the big sister dominator cause that's what big sisters do!

Meg - the sweetheart that lets Tiff sit on her cause she'd just do anything for anyone.

Kayla - the topless "I'm gonna do what I want-watch out!" - I can just hear her big voice coming from that tiny body.

Tiff - struttin' it!

Meg - singin' it!

Shorty, Suzanna and Gavin. Forever the bestest of buddies. There was no chance for them to be anything but buddies. They've absolutely grown up together.

And gotten in trouble together.

Who's a better cousin than one who will color your legs with markers?

She didn't need a brother cause she's always gonna have Gavin.

Ari - she's my little angel. I could cuddle with her non-stop!

This lil guy is gonna be a giant. I gotta hold him before he ends up holding me! Oh I know this is suppose to be a post about nieces but she's there too. She gave me my very first nephew.

I love you girls and lil guy with all my heart. I'm proud of you and believe in you.

And I always will.

My Grandma... Emma Jane

2010-02-21T16:17:00.001-05:00

My grandma passed away recently and I've been a little melancholy looking through old pictures and remembering her. This is my favorite one of her when she was young. I think she was absolutely beautiful. I'm totally suppose to be studying right now and keep getting walked in on, getting caught not doing what mommy is suppose to be doing while she is locked away in her office. Oh well, I need grandma time :) She understands.

Here she is standing next to an awesome Cadillac.

Fluffy! I miss Fluffy too! This was a time when I was fifteen, barely had a driver's permit, had flown into OKC to spend time with her and she had me drive her huge grandma style car with her in it to the beauty parlor. I was FREAKED out just trying to back the thing down her driveway, forgot to stop at a stop sign, and the mile trip seemed to have taken decades which my sweaty pits evidenced. She dressed me in this outfit that I think she got at the service center... it was one of those balloon poofy leg ensembles. She thought I was so gorgeous in it, I was taken to Sears for professional pictures. I saw that picture in the doorway to her bedroom last weekend - while on my way to hideout in the closet with my nieces, a dixie cup of wine, and my grandma's pillow that still had a glimpse of her smell. Meg, Tif, Kayla, and I traded memories and bonded there on the floor of her closet. Good times.

My pink grandma at my very pink wedding.

I love how she's looking at Grandpa. She really loved him.

AND she loved her grandkids... she kept us plastered all over her fridge and walls.

Grandpa, though, put the sparkle in her eyes. He's such a wonderful man and he took very good care of my grandma all the way to the end. I love him for that.

Love you Grandma and thank you for loving me :)

Sleigh riding Part 2

2010-02-10T14:56:00.003-05:00

Sleigh riding with full safety gear!

2010-02-10T14:08:00.003-05:00

My two favorite redheads

2010-02-07T18:03:00.005-05:00

Feeling Particularly Melancholy

2009-11-19T00:02:00.001-05:00

Maybe it is because I just had to read “Two Kinds” by Amy Tan about a mother who wanted a prodigy and reaped a failure. Is it really good to have expectations with children? Do they end up feeling bound to those expectations and suffer the reality of never measuring up? Ugh… Okay, I’m a perfectionist and I want to give my kids the balance I lacked and I want to do it on my own. And I want them to succeed. And I want them to be stable productive people. See… I’m doing it. I’m expecting. It’s so stinking natural to expect! Expect! Expect so much more for kids than what we had.

Just so you know…

These... well they grow up really fast.

I should have lingered a little longer... My babies. As of right now, my coolness factor varies daily. Then, at that moment - I was the bomb.

Whatever you turn into, wherever life takes you, I will always love you!

Monet See's Beauty In His Afliction

2009-10-10T22:28:00.004-04:00

Interpretation of “Monet Refuses the Operation” by Lisel Mueller

In “Monet Refuses the Operation” by Lisel Mueller, Monet is having a conversation with his doctor about the reasons he should not have surgery on his left eye. Monet refuses to have the surgery to correct what has “taken [him] all [his] life to arrive at” (5-6). “If only [the doctor] could see how heaven pulls earth into its arms” (44) then he would understand how beautiful Monet sees his world as “blue vapor without end” (46). After already having one surgery on his right eye, Monet argues the reasoning for going through with another surgery on his left eye to correct what he does not want to see as a problem. Monet insists throughout the poem that his vision is more of a nuisance to his doctor than to himself. No matter how conflicted the doctor believes Monet’s world to be due to his cataracts, Monet sees beauty in his “affliction” (4).

This surgery to correct Monet’s cataracts would “restore [his] youthful errors: fixed notions of top and bottom, the illusion of three-dimensional space” (15-18). What Monet sees in everything is beauty even if his world is distorted in the view of analytical doctor – he believes that distortion gives his world depth. Beauty that would take “a long streaming hair inside [Monet’s] brush to catch it” (36-37) is the distortion he wishes not to change. Why are we so eager to correct someone else’s problem when they don’t see it as a problem? That seems to be exactly what the doctor is trying to do by correcting Monet’s vision with cataract surgery. The doctor says “there are no halos around the streetlights in Paris” (1-2), but to Monet he sees a relationship between objects instead of “objects that don’t know each other” (26). In a continually changing world, Monet believes “light becomes what it touches” (29). The doctor regrets that Monet does not see fine lines, but instead of perfectly drawn lines, he sees a relationship between wisteria and “the bridge it covers” (19). It sounds like he has been waiting his whole life to see this relationship, and correcting it would be the distortion.

“Doctor, if only you could see” (42-43) the beauty in Monet’s world where “heaven pulls earth into its arms” (44) then seeing perfectly may be - not seeing at all. When Monet paints his world it involves relationships with objects and not fine lines. The doctor has been trained to see all of the fine lines so to Monet he believes it is the doctor that needs the correction. The very magic of this poem is in the last lines when Monet says, “how, infinitely the heart expands to claim this world, blue vapor without end” (45-46). Monet distinctly proves that the doctor must try and see with his heart the beauty of the world and then he would understand the importance of Monet keeping his ‘affliction’.

Impressionism involves light and its changing qualities and the inclusion of movement which does not allow for fine lines and distinct objects. Claude Monet is known as the “father” of impressionism meaning he brought this type of art into existence. He painted what he saw with all of its natural distortions and with old age he was now able to see the fruition of his life’s work with “vision[s] of gas lamps as angels” (6). He turned an affliction into seeing the beauty of not seeing “the edges” (8) that the doctor regretted he could not see.

Monet Refuses the Operation

by Lisel Mueller

Doctor, you say that there are no haloes
around the streetlights in Paris
and what I see is an aberration
caused by old age, an affliction.
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
to soften and blur and finally banish
the edges you regret I don't see,
to learn that the line I called the horizon
does not exist and sky and water,
so long apart, are the same state of being.
Fifty-four years before I could see
Rouen cathedral is built
of parallel shafts of sun,
and now you want to restore
my youthful errors: fixed
notions of top and bottom,
the illusion of three-dimensional space,
wisteria separate
from the bridge it covers.
What can I say to convince you
the Houses of Parliament dissolve
night after night to become
the fluid dream of the Thames?
I will not return to a universe
of objects that don't know each other,
as if islands were not the lost children
of one great continent. The world
is flux, and light becomes what it touches,
becomes water, lilies on water,
above and below water,
becomes lilac and mauve and yellow
and white and cerulean lamps,
small fists passing sunlight
so quickly to one another
that it would take long, streaming hair
inside my brush to catch it.
To paint the speed of light!
Our weighted shapes, these verticals,
burn to mix with air
and changes our bones, skin, clothes
to gases. Doctor,
if only you could see
how heaven pulls earth into its arms
and how infinitely the heart expands
to claim this world, blue vapor without end.

Okay, I'm back and writing...

2009-10-05T19:57:00.005-04:00

School has started back and it's time to write again. But this time I can't write about toe hair or hot instant messages... I have to be serious.

I have to have thesis and other lame material stored in my noggin' to put onto paper. I have to actually study! and then write. Eu.

So I'm still gonna post it just so googlers nationwide may find boring papers that they can copy from for their homework, and so that maybe my toe hair stories will get read along with lame poetry I've thesis-ed myself to death writing. :-) Just doing my part to make the world a better place.

The Day the Rooster Attacked!

2009-04-12T22:30:00.001-04:00

Fridays take forever when you are waiting for your week to end. That is exactly how Sara felt as it approached noon in the parts store she had been working in for seven years - every Friday praying for the weekend to come faster. Shortly past noon, her phone started vibrating in her pocket while she was helping David from Byrd and Son’s Logging find the exact flat-face o-ring for his hydraulic pump. Flipping her phone open, Sara saw that it was her sister calling. Realizing that it would take another fifteen minutes to help David choose the exact o-ring, she decided to talk the call from her sister in the hopes of being able to tell her that she would call her right back and diffuse her sister’s repeat phone calls to get her attention.

“Hey big sis, I…” was all she could get out before the interruption.

Terri, her older sister, interrupted Sara’s few words with, “I can’t take my life any longer. I have to find a way out.”

The phone went dead before Sara could say anything in return. She just flipped the phone shut and finished ringing up the two dollar o-ring that took her the past thirty minutes to hunt down. Working a parts counter is a bit like being a bartender. Everyone comes in with a story and they cozy up to the bar, place their order, and you are left nodding your head and listening as they rant on about the economy, their cheating wife or their children’s latest accomplishment. After David was well on his way with that special piece of two dollar rubber, Sara snuck her way back to the parts warehouse and called her mother.

“Mom, Terri just called and I think she’s having a break down of sorts at work. Can you call her back and find out if she’s okay? I’ve got to get back to the counter. There’s another customer,” she pleaded with her mother.

“Yeah honey, I’ll call her right now,” her mother promised.

Sara had already spent two hours of the morning taking her daughter to the doctor and couldn’t expect to take more time from work to go and take care of her sister. So she took care of the next customer constantly looking at her phone expecting to see another call come through. That’s when the dreamy son of the coal company owner came walking through the door, Doug of Mountain Resources. He was always a delight to wait on because of his timid smile and ease of making a sale. Whatever Sara showed him whether it was a new set of keys for any make and model or the dandy flashlights on display, he never left without way more than he came through the door to pick up. This time though was the new set of keys that were currently part of a contest Sara was hoping to sell the most for. A personal accomplishment of a mundane expectation was something to make the days pass. After he was happily on his way with the purchase Sara’s phone rang again.

“Hey Mom, is she okay?” she asked.

“No honey, we’re on our way to the hospital. Terri is on her way there in an ambulance. I guess she’s having some sort of nervous break down. I’ll take Suzanna with me,” her mother said.

“No Mom, just bring her to work with me. I don’t want her at the hospital getting everyone sick with strep. Bring her by on your way to the hospital” Sara replied.

“Okay, we’re on our way now.”

Sara started debating what she should do. Her sick child on her way to sit with her at work, her sister in the hospital and her son would be getting off the bus in about an hour to find no one at home waiting for him. Would he be afraid or would he happily go inside to the solitude of an uninterrupted Xbox game? What about her sister Terri? Should she plan to go see her after work, but what about her assignments for school that she had procrastinated about turning in and the deadline was tonight? Hopefully, the rest of the afternoon would go quickly but she kept worrying over her son, Gavin, getting off the bus.

Suzanna arrived with her grandmother outside the shop. Sara went out to the car and collected her daughter bringing her inside to sit at her desk and draw pictures to pass time. By four o’clock Sara decided to request to be able to run home and check on her twelve year old son. He wasn’t answering his phone and that just made her worry even more. So she loaded up Suzanna and ran out to the house to check on him. Only living five minutes from work does come in handy.

There was Gavin playing his games not even noticing he was alone. Suzanna collapsed on the couch and begged her mother to let them just stay there alone until she got off from work at five.

“Momma – I am so tired and your work is so boring. I want to lie down. We’ll be fine here together. I promise,” Suzanna pleaded.

Sara looked at Gavin standing in front of the television with the controller in his hands and said, “Gavin, will you guys be okay? I’ll be home just a little after five.”

“Yeah Mom, we’ll be okay,” he replied.

Sara rushed back down the stairs and out to her car for the short trek back to work. When she got there it was time for everyone else to go home and she’d be working the last thirty minutes alone. Never had this been a problem before, she was use to handling the store by herself. But it isn’t every day that she gets a phone call like this:

“Momma, there’s a big rooster in the house. You’ve got to come home, Momma. It pecked Gavin on the leg. I’m afraid it’s going to eat the cats,” Suzanna cried over the phone giving her mother every detail.

“A rooster? How can it be a rooster?” Sara relayed back while visions of the intruder flooding her mind.

“Well, it’s a big scary bird. I didn’t look real good and I’m in the bathroom hiding. Gavin’s out there trying to get it out of the house,” Suzanna replied.

That’s when Sara started dialing her son’s cell phone number from anther phone. She kept Suzanna on the line on her cell phone and held the office phone to the other ear. Conversation going in all directions, she was able to pull together the fact that a bird with a rather large beak had gotten into the house. Her son had been pecked in the leg. He was afraid. Her daughter was afraid. Only fifteen more minutes until closing and everyone on the other end of the line is crying, screaming and scared.

“Gavin honey, just go wait in the bathroom with your sister,” Sara consoled.

“I can’t momma. I think it’s in the hall,” Gavin said.

“Oh, no! Momma, it’s in the hall? I’m scared Momma. I think I hear it scratching on the door,” Suzanna replied after overhearing her brother’s voice outside the bathroom.

“Gavin, just go outside and wait on the back deck,” she told her son and then spoke into the other phone saying, “Suzanna, you stay on the line with me while I drive out to the house.”
It was five minutes until the actual closing time and Sara decided she would go ahead and check out. She set the alarm and locked the doors all the while keeping Suzanna on the line with her.

Sara rushed home to the rooster who had taken over the house. The evidence of his arrival into her home stained the walls with oozing brown bird feces and littered the floor with feathers. She quickly made her way to the bathroom to rescue her daughter from the big chicken hiding in the house and threatening to eat the cats.

“Suzanna, come on out of the bathroom. He’s not upstairs. He can’t get you,” Sara told her daughter after she opened the bathroom door.

“Where’s Gavin? Oh there he is Momma. I’m going outside until you are sure the bird is gone,” Suzanna said.

Sara walked through the entire upstairs searching for the rooster that might attack at her at moment. Nothing could be found but feathers and terds. So she went downstairs and found the cats about to pounce on a rather large wood pecker hiding in the mountains of dirty laundry. They were crouched down on all fours waiting patiently for the wood pecker to make his next move. Sara picked the cats up and tossed the felines upstairs, shutting the door to keep them at bay. She reached for the broom for defense, opened every door to the outside and began playing ‘shoo, shoo’ would the hugely beaked bird. With one swat of the broom towards the bird, he suddenly flew up and directly at Sara’s face. She ducked to watch him land on the rafter above her head. With another swat of the broom, he dive-bombed her head. He wasn’t leaving gracefully, so she decided they needed to have a conversation about this.

“Listen here woody. I need you to go fly the hell out of my house or I’m sickin’ the pussies on your ass. Now shoo!”

With one last swat of the broom Woody vanished out the garage door and into the blue sky.

“Holy moly – what a day!”

Forgetting completely about her sister laying the hospital and totally concentrating on the ‘shit’ at hand, Sara began cleaning up the carnage oozing down her walls and feathers littering the floor. Once everything was picked up again, the kids were inside; she collapsed into her chair to complete her procrastinated assignments and wondering if her sister was going to be able to understand why she didn’t make it to the hospital to check on her. Maybe she would tell her that a big rooster got in the house and was attacking the children and eating the cats. Maybe they gave her feel-good drugs and she would actually believe Sara’s story. Maybe she’d tell the truth and just concentrate on writing this story.

Lil Redhead

2009-03-29T21:03:00.001-04:00

Out in the country, far out of the way
Up in the tree is where we spent the day.

Climbing to the top, hanging over the road
We sat and waited with rocks in tow

Hiding in the branches, way out of sight
We hid there for hours, to the best of our might.

Then when the cars came rolling along,
I did what I did just to belong.

Rocks rained down from our hide away,
And pelted the cars in the light of day

Some would stop, and look to the top
Some even called and along came a cop.

He found his way down without me
I stayed there for hours and held my pee

Frightened to go home, scared they would see
The little redhead in the top of the tree

Poetic Ranting

2009-03-29T21:00:00.001-04:00

So much to do
So little time
Food to chew
Make a dime

There are bills to pay
Mouths to feed
Things to say
And a time to leave

Did I forget the light?
Did I forget the lock?
Will I be home before night?
The clock goes tick tock.

What’s for dinner?
Why must you leave?
A constant bread winner
And their constant need.

The house a mess
Milk is gone
A spelling test
Tomorrow dawn

Typing my story
In the peace of night
Details are gory
Secrets in sight

Wings

2009-03-19T23:35:00.002-04:00

Someday I may find my own,
And they will carry me so far.

At times I feel them there,
Falling from the sky I find,
They were not mine to wear.

There are birds in the sky,
An angel passes by,

A butterfly takes flight,
But I am not in sight.

I fear it is the weight of me,
So I wait patiently.

Looking thru the window of life,
Its panes filmed in strife.

A clearer picture coming now,
I will do this for you -
To your own heart be true.

Tomorrow can be mine,
Today it is your time.

Go and take your first step,
I'll be behind you all the way,
Have faith that I'll always stay.

Dangling

2009-03-19T23:33:00.002-04:00

Dangling by a string, I stay
Not knowing what fate will come my way.
My vulnerable child may show,
Everything the strong woman may know,
But pushes deeper and deeper down,
Need to make the young girl drown.

There are constantly two of me,
But only one at a time I’ll let you see.
And then again I may show just one,
Depends on who has won.

Some days it is all I can do,
To hang on to whom I am in you.
Who am I to be today?
A mother, a lover, a slave

There is no rest for who I am,
May close my eyes, but peace is damned.
Shelter and refuge are what I seek,
But it always crumbles at my feet.

Here I stay holding this string,
Dangling.

Dream of a Simple Life

2009-03-19T23:29:00.001-04:00

What is this ‘simple’ you crave -
This life that you seem so eager to brave?

Bring myself out of the darkness and into the light,
Troubles from the past will remain out of sight.
Keep my back turned from the memory of all,
Those days that I wish not to recall.

Live my life simple choosing to love,
Those that I wish to, and the others to shove,
Far away and keep myself safe,
Close to the ones with wings of a dove.

A house in the country, far out of the way,
The protection called distance; I’ll choose to stay,
A garden of veggies and herbs for delight,
Growing daily along them in the sunlight.

This is the simple I long to be,
And the happiness protected deep within me.
A porch to watch time slowly go by,
A house painted colors as blue as the sky.
It’s not the mere structure that fills my need,
It’s the home I crave, where I can be free.

The protection of its walls that I wrap around me.
A place for once that I’ll never leave.
Chickens nesting again for the night,
Their voices I’ll hear against first light.

Rolling land so peaceful and free,
Just land and trees for as far as you see.
Voices of wind talking in season,
A whippoorwill rhyming its reason.

Don’t wake me from this dream of simple life,
It’s where I’ve landed through a journey of strife.
At least I can still dream such a colorful tale,
I’m keeping this with me til my coffin’s last nail.

What was I afraid of today?

2009-03-11T20:15:00.003-04:00

The part of my life that is not known: what is my future for at least the next five years of my life, will I lose my employment like everyone else, will I fail myself and those that I love, do I need to learn how to shoot a gun, will the United States become a third-world country, will I fail anatomy because I’d rather write than study body parts, that my kids would miss the school bus, that leaving my garage door open would make myself vulnerable to some mass murderer, that I spend too much time in the bathtub day dreaming, that those chips I ate will land on my ass, that the price of a Marlboro will make me start smoking plastic straws.

What can I do to control the above?

What is my future for the next five years? Not give up on my dreams, stay on track for the goals I intend to reach, not let my insecure need for a man or partner interfere with having a purpose, and enjoy each day so that I can look back and remember with fondness of my struggle.

Will I lose my employment like everyone else? I have no control over this and I have to just let it go because I try too hard at everything I do to sit and analyze an inevitable outcome.

Will I fail myself and those that I love? Of course! I have to stop living for other people’s expectations no matter how much I may love them because I will always fail someone. I need to mark this off my list of worries and center on God’s unconditional love for me that I try to hide from.

Do I need to learn how to shoot a gun? Absolutely ya big chicken! For one thing – a chick that can shoot is hot. For another, I need to pull up my big panties and learn to protect myself and not be afraid of the metallic trigger thingies.

Will the U.S. become a third world country? Probably – everything is probable. Just look at the economy and everyone freaking out about it.

Will I fail anatomy because I’d rather write than study body parts? No, I’ll probably make a ‘C’ and then have to re-take the god-forsaken class again to achieve a higher ‘C’ before I give up and change my major to something lame and unprofitable like English Literature and eat ramen noodles the rest of my days.

My kids will miss the school bus. – Thank goodness Mom is next door!

Afraid that leaving my garage door open would make me vulnerable to a mass murderer. – Yet you dated guys you met on Yahoo? Hello? Leave it up – it airs out the kitty litter that your ass is too lazy to go dump in the trash.

Afraid that I spend too much time in the bathtub day dreaming. – It feels good and it’s the most private place in the house. Forgive yourself right now! Then go take yourself a bath honey – you’ll feel better.

Afraid that those chips I ate will land on my ass. – Probably so, but get over it. The exercise thingy you bought to work off those other bags of chips is staring at you in the corner of the office. Try using it.

Afraid that the price of a Marlboro will make me start smoking plastic straws. – No, you’ll either switch to Paul Malls or start using that exercise thingy in the corner and quit them altogether.

Moral: Stop being afraid of what I can't control. Believe in myself. Start exercising, quit smoking and keep laughing.

Rachel's Hope

2009-03-10T03:19:00.005-04:00

Rachel nervously studied the doorknob of the room she was in, awaiting it to turn and reveal another person who wanted to ask her questions. Her mind reeled with the events she had just suffered while her eyes searched for cues of more to come. The emotional trauma of the day left her feeling like she had been riding a roller coaster full of plunges waking to an aftermath of her body limp, mind scattered, and in a constant search for the end. Maybe it was all a nightmare that she could wake herself from, but the blood stains on her jeans reminded her it was all too real. Her long brown hair was drawn back against her neck with a clip yet sweat soaked ringlets framed her withdrawn features. The beauty of her youthfulness still found its way through and captured you with those pale blue eyes. She sat there chewing her fingertips where nails had been previously devoured. Her eyes still focused on the doorknob, waiting and anticipating.

It had been a dreadfully cold day, with rain quickly turning itself to ice and pelting itself against your face like sharp needles. The very reason why Rachel had not bothered to walk next door and check in on her mother before leaving for the day was that she dreaded the cold walk those ten steps would bring. Rachel had been reminded of what today would be, yet slinked into her rhythm of daily activities forgetting that her brother was being brought up on charges for the molestation of his daughter. Rachel’s childhood was not something she enjoyed remembering since it was riddled with her older brother’s torment, so she quickly forgot about the hearing she wouldn’t attend and left her house without caution of the storm brewing within her family focusing only on the drive through an ice storm she immediately faced.

The neighborhood was filled with streets named after seasons and Rachel found comfort in those seasons in which she lived. Her season was Spring Street which brought images of flowers in bloom, trees blowing their leaves against her bedroom window and the idea of something brand new to live for. Just like the life growing inside her was brand new – she had hope and her home brought her hope as well. Very little in her life did she ever take for granted and as she was driving she scolded herself for not checking in on her mother. Jane was an elderly woman but sharp as a tack living next door to her daughter who planned to take care of Jane to her very last day. Last winter they had both suffered the loss of father and husband when his heart beat for the last time. Winter was the worst of all seasons.

The wipers became paralyzed in ice on Rachel’s windshield as she made her way through the gridlock of fearful motorists easing their way to the start of the day. The fourth floor of the parking garage was a relieving site after the distressing weave through winter travelers. She made her way to the sliding glass doors defeating the cold behind her and enveloped into the warmth the hospital building provided. She slipped into the ladies locker room and adorned herself in scrubs. That is when she felt the flutter of a butterfly across her growing abdomen. She lingered for a moment thinking of the hope she was carrying.

After the third complaint of molestation substantiated by a social worker, the state of Rhode Island finally came forward in the defense of an eleven year old girl named Abigail Romerez. She sat next her mother in the court room with an expressionless face – the face of her father. Rick sat with his back to his daughter barely twenty feet from her, displaying only the right side of his face to her view and coldly staring at the prosecutor clearly wasting his precious time with ramblings of charges against him. He was a wealthy and powerful man that had distinguished earlier complaints with bribes easily paid to hungry government officials. This time the bribe wasn’t taken by the new prosecutor who planned to use this case as a medal for his career. Jane sat next to her grand daughter holding her hand as her son was found guilty of the charges displayed before everyone by countless doctors, psychologists and social workers. Neither Abi nor her mother had to take the stand and for once everyone else fought their battle.

After Rick’s bail was set and he was being carted out of the room, he looked at his mother with his hard face and said, “You will pay for this, you will all pay for this. I did nothing to you.”

The three of them each knew he was right. They would all definitely pay a price. A small battle had been won, but an even bigger battle had been created. They sat there watching their son, husband, and father being led out of the room after an entire day of scars being ripped open for the public to see. The cold air riddled Jane’s bones as she stepped out of the court house and made her way to the car. She had felt the cold all day, even sitting there watching her son in the court room she could not escape the ice storm. As she made her way home, her phone began vibrating in her pocket. She immediately flipped it open and could hear the DA apologizing in her ear. He was out on bail and the only protection they had is a piece of paper stating a protection order for their safety until the trial was set for his sentencing.

At the close of Rachel’s twelve hour shift, she made her rounds and left orders at the nurse’s station for a patient when she saw the day’s newspaper staring at her through innocent eyes. It was a picture of her niece, Abi, from four years ago. Rachel had forgotten what today had meant for her family. The reporter hadn’t even bothered to take a new picture of Abi probably because her face now lacks definition. The picture they used was when Abi still had a youthful glint in her eyes which her father had successfully taken from her. Rachel read the article and felt suddenly hollow, her mind began racing and remembering what she pushes down and tries to successfully forget. As her mind pushed forward images of the past, Rachel began dialing her mother’s number. She should have remembered. She should have checked on her this morning. Guilt was the lump growing in her throat as she listened hoping to hear her mother’s voice on the other end. Jane wasn’t answering.

As a child the truly safest place that Rachel felt was deep into the darkness of the crawl space under her parent’s home. She could hear his feet stomping through the house searching for her and calling her name with threats of what he would do to her if he found her. Deeper she crawled under the house until her own hand she couldn’t even see. There she would lay in the cold dampness and dream herself out of reality until the sound of gravel in the driveway announced her parent’s return home from work. Dreaming was always her escape from the harrowing reality of what he did when she did give in to his demands. The times when she gave in and let him touch her, probe her, and take from her childhood. Sometimes he even made her undress for his friend’s enjoyment as well. Rachel grew up craving safety and protection that she had yet to find in any relationship, but a new instinct was growing inside her now – an instinct for survival.

The trees had taken the abuse all day from the storm and wore ice on their branches making them droop to the ground in the weight. Jane drove slowly thinking about how those branches must be feeling what she felt inside – heavy and brittle, ready to snap from life and fall to the ground. The driveway was long and dark before her as she glided onto its path. Did she not turn on her porch light this morning? She also noticed the lamp in the window that she kept on a timer was out. She eased her car closer and parked sitting for a moment to take in the darkness around her. Something wasn’t right. Then she thought the electricity must be out because of the storm, so she eased her tired body out of the car clutching her purse against her body. The whole way to the house she scolded herself for not wearing more sensible shoes as she kept feeling her slick-soled flats slip against the ice. She reached with her hand for the railing just as her right foot started to go out from under her and she steadied herself from a fall. Resting there for a moment, she looked at the dark windows of her home wishing her daughter home that moment to help her inside. Rachel still had one more hour left of her shift and then a treacherous drive home. Jane thought she should call her to warn about how terrible the weather had become, but decided she’d wait until she was inside. Easing her foot up onto the porch she made the final step to the entrance of her home. Leaning against the door to steady herself in search of her key, the door swung open. Had she been so absent-minded this morning that she left without even shutting or locking her front door? She walked into the house flipping light switches that failed her when she remembered the gas stove in the kitchen. She fumbled along the hallway with her hand out in front of her, purse still clutched in the other, and finding her way to the kitchen from memory instead of sight. There was a stench that filled her nostrils as she walked into the kitchen – a musky sweat odor she couldn’t place. She felt her way over to the breakfast table and sat her purse down she had been holding so tightly her hand ached when she brushed against something or was it someone sitting there in a chair? Her phone began vibrating again in her pocket. She pulled it out seeing that it was Rachel calling when the light from the phone cast a glow across the room revealing she was not alone. She stood there stunned not even answering - just looking at the familiar face sitting at her table.

“Hello mother,” he said with the confidence of someone who felt their presence would be no cause for alarm.

Jane stood there still with the phone vibrating in her hand and its light illuminating his hardened face unable to believe what she was seeing. Paralyzed by fear she could do nothing but stare into his cold dark eyes, her mouth gaping open in astonishment and her knees weakening beneath her. She swallowed and then flipped open her phone to scream for help, but it was too late. The screen told her she had a missed call. He jumped up from the table and smacked the phone from her hand sending it flying across the room and shattering it to pieces on the floor.

“You stupid bitch,” he said as he stood over her - dominating her.

Jane’s mind snapped to Abi thinking of her beautiful damaged grandchild he had manipulated and ruined under his control. She began praying for the words to say to her son and gaining an instinct of survival to fight him. She reached for the candlestick on the table when he grabbed it from her and struck her with a swift blow across her left temple. A cracking sound followed as she fell to the floor at his feet.

“Stupid cunt,” he said under his breath, as he then began whistling a tune, and grabbed her unconscious head - dragging her through the house to her bedroom.

Rachel dialed her mother’s number again and this time it went directly to voice mail. Something was wrong, she could feel it. With only a few minutes left of her shift, she made her way to the locker room and changed into street clothes all the while images of Abi’s face from the paper haunting her. The eyes were looking through the paper calling out to Rachel for help. Were they Abi’s eyes or her own mothers? Fear crept up her spine and tingled in her ears as she dashed out the door and jumped in her car. She slid into reverse and back into drive with one clean motion, speeding through the parking garage when a child stepped in front of her car. Slamming on the brake, she slid to a stop within feet of hitting the young girl. The girl’s eyes peering at Rachel with a knowing look that made Rachel blink shut and then look again to make sure she wasn’t seeing a child that wasn’t there. When she opened them again, she realized the young girl was real and waited for her to pass by. Rachel then slowed her pace out of the garage with those eyes burned into memory.

Rick meticulously displayed his mother on her bed while she remained unconscious, blood dripping down her face from the gash above her hairline. Her white lacy shams stained with her blood beneath her head, he began tying her hands and feet to the posts of the bed leaving her spread open before him. When he was satisfied with her display, he set out through the house for the weapons of her demise.

As Jane lay there, she began going in and out of consciousness and calling, “Rachel, Rachel?”

Rick could hear his mother’s cries from the kitchen, and stomped back through the house after her.

“No one is going to save you. You are all alone and you are going to die alone. Rachel will find you after I’m finished with you. I might sit and wait for her – take her too. She started this. This is her fault,” he said to his mother.

He then took the jagged steak knife he had collected from the kitchen and began forking his way through her clothing, ripping and tearing to expose the naked flesh beneath. With each thrust of the knife he tore through her flesh and clothing leaving her naked and bloody beneath him. Her cries only amplified his pleasure and angered him more. He stood back to admire his master piece and found himself overcome with excitement. He crawled on top of her while she laid there crying in agony. Laughing he mocked her moans and cries with those of his own. He picked up the knife that was beside him on the bed and thrust it into her eye socket digging her eye from her head. When he had accomplished the one, he thrust it again into the other eye. She was quiet now and he started losing interest, cocking his head at her trying to listen for a sound that wouldn’t come. Running a finger across her cheek, he lifted her blood onto his finger. Looking at it trickle down his fingertip, he licked it - tasting her death. He got up from her without fear of evidence and walked out the bedroom door to see the shadow of someone standing in the hall. He strained to focus in the dark when the shadow drew closer.

“You piece of shit. I should have done this long ago,” she said.

He lunged for her but she quickly fired directly at him with her daddy’s shotgun she had found leaning against the wall near the front door. The deafening blast lingered in her ears as she watched her brother crumble to the floor in front of her. She pumped it again, firing again. His blood splattered the walls and the floor. The taste of metal was even in her mouth. His blood was everywhere. Rachel walked past him on the floor searching for her mother, but she was too late.

She found her mother splayed out on her bed, gaping holes where her eyes had once been. The eyes – her mother’s eyes weren’t there.

Seven months later…

“Keep pushing Rachel – she’s almost here,” the nurse said.

“C’mon girl – you can do this – keep pushing,” her doctor said as he watched the head crown in the birth canal. He could see red ringlets of hair on the baby’s head as Rachel kept pushing.

“One last push and she’s here,” the doctor told Rachel.

And with a loud cry, Hope was born. She was a perfect blessing. She was Rachel’s Hope. She held her close to her chest and looked into her eyes. Hope had her grandmother’s pale blue eyes.

Instant Message

2009-02-20T02:49:00.005-05:00

Tousled brown hair – a young man but with one look into Evan’s brown eyes you can see the depth of someone twice his age because when he looks at you – he really sees you and takes the time to really know you. There you are naked in his gaze yet comfortable that someone finally recognizes who you are. Confident yet nervous creating each emotion to contradict the other almost as if left dangling like a worm on a hook to be devoured by his oblivious charm. His genuine concern for others blends even into the most casual relationships he holds. Sometimes one might wonder if the attendant at a gas station even feels the warmth of his presence or gets giddy at the thought that her day may include the chance to brush a hand against his while taking the money from his hand. His crooked smile barely hides behind a dusting of beard and with gentle words spoken through soft lips he leaves you craving for another moment of him.

At the end of what would be a long day to some is only another beginning for Sara as she boots up her computer and settles in for what will be the night’s creative writing assignments. The one class that gives her some release from the pressure continually put on her to become this person with a purpose in life. Pressure that she creates for herself and a purpose she hopes will somehow benefit others and help them in some way or touch them because she’s made a difference. After thirty-two years, she’s dabbled in a mixture of the corporate career and finally settled into the realization that she knows what she wants to be when she grows up – a nurse. Not an easy task for a right brainer, but there is nothing to stop her from tackling what others think should be impossible. Starring at an empty page and blinking cursor, a window pops itself open from the bottom of her screen.

“Hey, I was afraid that I had scared you away,” he had typed onto her screen.

“What do you think was so terrible that you would make me run off?” Sara replied.

“I thought I might have offended you when I told you I wanted to kiss you,” he confessed again.

Evan must have sensed that Sara was now blushing with the words filling her once empty screen. Those same words she had read the night before that left her craving him in her dreams. After a hard swallow, she lingered thinking of her reply. Instead more words moved their way across the screen – he knew her hesitance only meant she was sinking into him.

“Let me see you tomorrow,” he simply responded to her reluctance.

“I have a full day and I’m covering for someone at work tomorrow so I don’t know if I’ll be able to break away,” was her guarded response.

“I think you want to be adventurous, but you hold yourself back – afraid of regrets,” he cornered her with his words.

“And you don’t ever regret anything you’ve done?” Sara replied.

“Who has time for regret? Everything we do helps us later,” he said.

“Helps us to not do things we will regret,” she finished for Evan.

“But enjoying someone we find chemistry with is not a bad thing. It's ok to relax and enjoy from time to time. I mean I haven't thought about this seriously in over a year and that’s how long it’s been since I’ve felt this way. So I’m rusty and nervous but curious and excited to see what might happen. I guess you can say I’m straight forward with what I want,” Evan laid everything in the open.

“I like straight forward, but dance around actually being it,” she admitted.

Evan said, “And you’re afraid to actually say what you want or do what you want.”

“Okay, you can crawl out of my head now!” Sara exclaimed.

“No way, this is good. Instead of going for what you really want or need,” he began again.

Sara interrupts with, “I settle for what others need from me.”

“Just telling you what I think and feel,” he ended the conversation and slipped off her screen.

Evan slipped away but his presence remained through the words typed across her screen. She lingered over them like a fine meal to discover she was the course he devoured with words not even spoken.

There's Hair There?

2009-02-13T22:32:00.008-05:00

Caution to Men: Do not read this. It’s highly embarrassing. If you really think you want to keep reading then believe me when I say that it’s all fictional and toe-tally just a creative writing assignment.

Why do I have chin and toe hair? It’s not a fair thing in a woman’s life to have hair growing in places not kosher for them to grow!

I guess it all started in my late twenties with the toe hair. I didn’t even know it was there until one day someone found it for me when my legs were propped up in front of them baring my naked hairy feet. Who thinks to look there when they are shaving? I guess if I was more feminine I might have noticed it while painting my toe nails, which I promise I do paint. But I probably had other things on my mind at the time. So anyway, I started immediately from that second on shaving my little ‘piggies’ along with the leg shaving and freakish eyebrow shaping.

One day in my early thirties I was sitting at my desk at work in the thinking position with my hand propping my chin when I felt it! A long wire-like hair protruding it’s bad self from my chin! I immediately grabbed it and yanked the obnoxious thing from its hiding place. Being so fascinated with my new discovery, I laid it out before me on a stark white sheet of paper to analyze. There was a root! I then picked up the page holding the hair and brought it to my girlfriend at work and asked her what it was and why was it growing on my face. My accusatory tone brought fear to her face; either that or she thought I had lost my mind at the moment which I don’t doubt. She looked at me, then at the paper, then at my chin. From that day forward, there has not been a day go by that I don’t cautiously check my chin out in the mirror and make sure I rid myself of any hairs.

Getting older and all of the hormonal changes that geezer-hood is bringing me, makes me wonder where the next hair will rear itself on my body. I recently entered myself in a contest for $3,000.00 worth of hair removal wondering exactly how much money it would take to conquer my entire body excluding my head, little bit of eyebrow and maybe eyelashes. I haven’t gotten that notification email that I’ve won… yet.

Monster Truck Borrowing

2009-02-13T21:11:00.005-05:00

Dear Gary,

I know I was only supposed to be going to the grocery store in your truck and I promise that that was my initial intention. The thing is I remembered that the farmer’s market was also open this morning, and I know that is way across town and totally not the original path I was to take. Did I tell you that I got tomatoes for only a dollar a pound? That is a great deal isn’t it? I guess you also know how completely compact those parking spaces are down town and not really intended for that awesome monster-sized truck of yours but when you can get tomatoes for a dollar a pound – you make everything else just fit. Well, in the fitting of said truck I sort of bumped against this stupid electric Toyota thing and there is a bit of a dent on the right side which was my blind spot at the time. I learned so much about blind spots in anatomy class this week – they really are there. Did you know that? So anyway, I fixed your truck for you and it looks like a real professional did it. I used a smidgeon of toothpaste for some bondo action and let it harden in this great cold weather we’ve been having. Isn’t it great that my hygiene includes a trial size tube of toothpaste that I carry around in my purse? After it hardened, I also had a bottle of blue toe nail polish the exact color of your truck! I just touched it up with that and presto – I bet you can’t even tell. So anyway, here’s a bag of organic tomatoes to help you with any suffering I doubt I caused. You just let me know when you need me to get you some more and I’ll just borrow your truck again in exchange for your grocery shopping I patiently do for you so often.

Lots of love,

Sara Dimwit

Assignment: Imagine that you have borrowed someone's vehicle and you were involved in a fender bender, then write a monologue explaining the accident to the friend whose car you borrowed in way of a letter.

Belly Button Speaks!

2009-02-03T20:57:00.002-05:00

Finally, I’m getting some air! It is summer and the only time she lets me be out in the open experiencing fresh air! Not that I get to do this often, mind you. Only when she feels free enough to put on a swim suit and then that fresh air gets coupled with drowning, but at least I am free for those few moments - unlike the winter when I am layered beneath blankets of cotton, wool, and god-forbid polyester. That’s when it gets really stuffy and cotton monsters come and invade me. Little tiny balls of manipulation find their way deep into my crevices, and my only relief then is when she remembers to wash me. It’s a hard life but somebody has got to keep everything tied together around here. Believe me, it is no easy job keeping this girls guts intact. You should hear the voices behind me growling and gnashing constantly trying to push their way out. And don’t get me started on babies – the little monsters. They invade every last piece of space in my hemisphere pushing me way out in the open like a power button for a remote control. It was embarrassing. Thank goodness those days are over because you know, I am happy safely tucked in. But the voices! It must be like a human’s sixth sense. Sometimes I really think they are going to destroy me by shooting jalapeno flames straight through me. The things they say! It is like I am the only one hearing them sometimes – plotting their revenge for what Mouth lets inside her. But its summer and I’m going to stop complaining for the moment since I can finally feel the sun and Cotton finally left. I thought he would never leave! Hope she didn’t forget the sunscreen. She always forgets. I am the forgotten one just keeping it all tied together.

- Dreamer's belly button

Someone else's account...

2009-02-03T19:57:00.002-05:00

I realize that it was a long time ago, but I don’t understand her unwillingness to rekindle feelings from old memories. It was the birth of our second child and a very long evening filled with every emotion capable to man and woman. I was at work when I received the phone call telling me that this time was really it, and that I’d better get myself to the hospital. When I walked in, there was her entire family gaping at me like some stooge late for a party. Her sister Terri was there with a camcorder to film what she kept telling me would be our last child. I never understood until now what she really meant by that. Basically, she was telling me then how I was slowly losing her and this baby was going to be named after her family as if she wanted to mark her for life. Her hair soaked with sweat, she laid there looking at me with contempt for obviously putting her in this position – labor. There was this enormous belly containing a precious little girl that seemed to be anchored in my wife’s womb since the doctor was pulling out every gadget he could find to pull her tiny body out. I laid cloths on Sara’s head to try and cool her off but it was to no avail. The stupid rag kept falling off her bloated head and my job for the evening seemed to be picking it up and putting it back on. I didn’t know what else to do since I was not the one chosen to hold the camera. Terri always seems to be forefront in Sara’s life – I’ve never been able to compete with her sisterly affection. Outside in the hall they were ripping up carpet, and putting down new. Have you ever thought about the germs that might be lingering in hospital carpet? Evidently, they found their way into my families’ birthing room since both my wife and baby laid in that hospital for days on end with staph infections. I made it my duty to forgo baseball practices and singing engagements so that I might be of some use there at the hospital. After all, I am the father. Finally, after two weeks I was able to bring them home and continue on with my normal schedule of activity. Oh yes, we named her Suzanna Grayce. She carries her mother’s, maternal grandmother’s and maternal grandfather’s name all wrapped up in one. Sara was definitely triumphant in that child becoming a very similar image of her.

Note from Dreamer: This is written from a witness' perspective about the birth of my daughter. Trying my hand out at crawling up into other peoples - I mean other character's heads and speaking for them. This take's lots of effort and I do not suggest crawling into an ex-husband's head for very long. It's a scary place!

Character Sketch of a Sociopath

2009-02-03T19:08:00.002-05:00

I came from nothing and made something out of an existence riddled of persecution and contempt. All I ever tried to give my family was the gift of me – a true benefit for a small-minded bunch closed off from the real world. Equally unbalanced are the women that flock to my fortune like flies on a hog, and easily am I able to dismantle their pathetic existence like unwrapping a gift. I take these gifts and use them solely for the benefit they each are worthy enough to provide, and then stomp them under my feet when the expiration of my choosing unfolds. My sisters have always been nothing but jealous of me, and it registers in their undying devotion of making me out to be some kind of monster. Truly, it is jealousy of the kingdom I have been able to create while all they do is pro-create, and mindlessly open their lives to the control of a man just as many of an ex-wife from my past opened herself to me. I know all there is to know about human behavior and secretly plan each weaklings demise. Pathetic people do not deserve an existence.

Note from Dreamer: This is just a sketch and only a sketch that was required of me to do for a creative writing class and leave it to me to pick a sociopath to sketch. All statements made above are fictional and please don't freak out on me and stick scissors in my ear while I am sleeping. Thank you and sweet dreams!

My list of lists

2009-02-02T23:30:00.001-05:00

1. Things I wish I could change
2. Places I want to go
3. The clutter inside my head
4. Plans that didn’t work out well
5. Prayers that he didn’t answer – Thank God!
6. The many times I have changed my mind
7. The people I wish I could fix
8. Lines that men think make them sound appealing
9. Stuff my kids say that cracks me up
10. Things my dad says that cracks me up
11. The times I was wrong
12. The times I should have said nothing
13. The times I should have said something
14. People I should have told that I loved them
15. The surprises leftover when kids don’t flush the toilet
16. Things men shouldn’t wear around me
17. Things I shouldn’t wear around men
18. The vitamins in my cabinet
19. The books I stayed up all night reading
20. The scary Google searches that pop up in my history – why did I want to know about that?

One-sided conversation I had with my father:

2009-02-02T23:25:00.002-05:00

“Girls need examples from men in their lives and one of the examples I am talking about is you. These examples are what they learn from for future relationships with men. Constantly teasing a pre-teen is destructive to their confidence level. I don’t care if Suzanna irritates you. She irritates you because she is a lot like you. She has two sides: irritating and extremely sweet. You are the adult, now act like one and be an example of more sweet and less crotchety old man. That’s funny how crotchety old men and pre-teen behaviors are perfectly in-line with each other like parallel universes. I’m ready to pull the car over and make both of you walk home.”

Pre-teen reply from backseat brother, “Be a solution – not a constipation!”

Intimidation or Attraction?

2009-02-02T22:03:00.002-05:00

There was something about the way he looked at me with eyes burning deep into mine. Slowly, I walked into his office and sat down in the chair across from him; constantly locked in his gaze like a ship anchored at shore. Casual conversation filled the small glass walls of his domain, while I sat there with my mind wandering about distant details and scattered thoughts; thoughts of how pointless these words seemed to be coming out of my mouth, while trying to make good use of conversation skills I could drum up, and sweat beading up in undesirable places.

Somehow he felt familiar to me, and at the same time so mysterious. My body went through the warp zone of belly flops, and the intense heat of attraction. He kept himself concreted behind a desk that created a safe distance; enough distance that I could easily get up and walk out - or even run if my head and heart could not take his existence. Walking out is exactly what I ended up doing, for I could not dance any longer to this tune of intensity. I kept walking, only concentrating on each step; while my eyes wanted to burn a hole through the back of my head to see if he was watching. Before I knew it, I had lost track of my destination. The crisp winter breeze in my face as I pushed out the final door brought me to my senses, and quickly carried me to the car.

Sitting there starting the engine, I felt the cocoon of thought envelope me again, drifting me down the road - reliving every word said. I was so lost in thought that I could not remember how I made it home. My phone started ringing beside me like an alarm to my senses as I pulled into the garage. That is when I awoke and realized my surroundings.

Sliding the car into park, I then began searching for this chirping annoyance vibrating beside me. I reached for the phone and turned it to see the name calling. Another flop in my abdomen announced to my body what my eyes clearly could see. He was calling. What are the rules and the steps one must take in these situations? Do you answer knowingly? Let it ring and go to voice mail? Or do you give in and lay it all on the line by answering? Flipping the phone open, I eagerly answered. At least I had removed myself from his gaze and his voice was all I had to contend with in this moment.

"I just have to be the first to say, you are so beautiful," he said to me.

It was like my ears were hearing this, but no sound would come out of my mouth. Compliments have never come easily for me, because I immediately drown them with some flaw trapped deeply in my head.

"You have beautiful blue eyes," he said again without hearing any reply.

I was thinking about my eyes, and how incredibly red instead of blue they must have been - since sleep is not always a part of my daily ritual.

"Thank you," I said meekly, finally willing myself to return in gesture.

"I think you are very handsome too," I willed out of my mouth.

Calling a man handsome can probably mean so many things. It is like a safe way of either saying you are really homely or incredibly delicious. Clinging to safety was exactly what I was doing because delicious is not a good word to use in the beginning. He might think I seriously want to eat him alive like a delicious snack, and that could be both bad and good. If he is at all modest, the man would go running from a tramp using such language. A womanizer would love such a comment to be made about them, and I would have fallen into his trap. I said he was handsome, which was a safe detachment that kept my composure intact.

"I would love to see you again," he said.

He wants to see me again? Was I not foolish enough for him the first time? He must be sadistic in nature to expose him yet again to my double-sided comments.

"Okay, when?" I replied.

Attraction - My Dilemma

2009-01-24T11:17:00.001-05:00

Have you ever noticed the dance we take with each other when we meet an attractive individual – someone who stimulates our mind, heart, and body? Subtle movements of our eyes, the firing of neurons in a once empty space of mind, and a burning that moves from deep down rising to flush our cheeks. Where does that energy go once it moves out of our bodies? Is it captured by the other or is it freely roaming forever searching, and landing intently only to leave again and find another?

Some call it sparks because that is exactly what attraction feels like, and these sparks ignite fires or fizzle out in the dampness of time. I would love to know how to contain this burning feeling and nourish it keeping it alive in myself and possibly another.

So far though I have only been able to ignite these feelings in others that I quickly want to drown for fear and out of caution that it might take me completely over and I would lose control of the mundane. Most certainly this is a fear of trusting that the other will stop fanning the flame and settle in with what I have to give leaving me suffocating in normalcy. If I let today’s attraction take over what will be the end result? Will I want to run again? Hide and find safety while trapped in my world of constant relationship failure?

This is today’s dilemma.

Okay, I can do this...

2009-01-18T18:39:00.001-05:00

Recently, I've started a creative writing class and I have got to come up with new things to write about each day for my classmates and instructor to critique. So here I am creating a blog to organize my thoughts and rantings so I can pick and choose what I actually want to show them that I write about each day. This way I can sneak in from home, work or school and you're right there waiting for me.

I sort of thought that a creative writing class would be an easy 'A' since English Composition classes so far have been. But I'm thinking now that it's not going to come so easy and I need lots of practice writing. I can do this. I can do this. It's going to be easy - right?

It does not even count against my major! And who cares that it is really a class for people wanting to be published one day or (this is the scary part) people that have already been published. Eeek! And they're going to read me! Holy moly... I've always been a good bs'er and hopefully it will payoff now. Self, did you hear that? C'mon, don't let me down now. Okay - I'm scared.