Tuesday, August 25, 2009 HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH!!!!!
I have no regrets or apologies for my online shenanigans over the past 2 years. Today it occured to me: this is what I enjoy. Writing. Also, I have a burden to tell people how much God loves us all. I have a very early memory. So early that you might not believe this. But I have a memory of before I was even conceived. I've always had this inside of me, even as a child, I remember standing in heaven, on the "edge", that's how I sensed it. I was standing near the "exit", it was to my right. I stood facing God, or an angel, or Jesus. I can't remember the face or what the appearance was, I just know, it was love, and there was light everywhere, and He stood there before me, and said, "Tell them how much I love them." So I tell you how much He loves you in the only way I know how~ I tell how He showed His love to me, throughout my existence so far on this earth. I leave some things unsaid, hoping my voice will speak the loudest with the things I leave untouched. Know what I'm saying? No? Ok well I want to change the subject anyway. I'm sitting here this morning drinking my tea, fully aware of how the thought of God, and God's love for us, and images of Jesus ready to embrace you with a big fat loving hug can annoy the living daylights out of folks. How do I know? From personal experience with other people, listening to their reactions and hearing how they describe their annoyance with Christianity. One person I know has said, "Just the thought of Jesus makes me bristle with discomfort. I don't want anything to do with it." He also said that when Jesus is mentioned, he feels himself glazing over and his brain shuts down. So I know and I'm aware of how uncomfortable my blog title is for some people to see. That's why it's there. I had to get used to His love. I had to receive it, and believe it. I had to learn to get comfortable with love, and closeness, and intimacy, after coming from my family, where affection was a foreign word- humor took it's place- and after screwing up so many times, and learning to accept forgiveness. I never mentioned this one: several years ago, I had a dream, I was in my old room again, and Jesus sat on my bed, like He did in the one where He spoke of restoring my heart. In this one, I sat beside Him, and He hugged me tight, and I could feel a real love. It was protective and loving and sincere. It was also foreign. A new experience, a new feeling, but at the same time, I recognized it. I was at home in that hug. As He hugged me, I heard Him say to me: "This is how the love of a man should feel." When I woke up from that dream I got the feeling that someone out there had been praying for me.
I have never known that kind of love in real life, but I do know, He loves us SO MUCH, and I'm going to keep reminding you until the cows come home. ~*~ ...I went to the thrift store a couple of weeks ago and bought a big box, I think it's a military box, it has old stickers on it, one says JFK and one says 1969, it's dark green and it makes me feel mean. I dumped all my stash bags out and sorted thru it all: beans and rice and seasonings in one pile, personal care items in another pile, herbs and vitamins in yet another. I loaded up the beans and rice and gave it all to my brother in law. So now I'm down to just having things to keep myself clean, and some herbs. And I loaded up wait I'm confusing myself, I have five different thoughts going on at one time here. Ok, I loaded up the things I wanted to keep in my military box, and I'm using it as a table. The things I gave to my brother in law got loaded up in HIS military box, it says OLD GOAT on it. That's creepy. I changed my mind about having food and water. I would rather not have that burden on myself. The only way I would feel ok about it is if I knew everyone else did too. I don't want to spend my time wrestling with ethical issues in order to keep my belly full if my neighbors are down to eating their cat. My old home videos of Leah from when she was little went into yet another pile, for transfer over to dvd, one by one, so that I can systematically load them up on here somehow, someway, thus, embarking on a whole new way to torment people, both strangers and friends alike.
I spent the day in the sun with my kid. Lunch at IHOP, then to the lake. We sat on the rocks and talked, then we talked about the water, and how it wasn't too cold, and next thing you know, we're in. We laughed the whole time. Then we went on a dollar store shopping spree, complete with gnarly hair and wet clothes. We both splurged. Leah inspected my purchases and grabbed something off the counter right before they could ring it up, took it away, then came back with something else. As it turns out, she was putting the hair gel back on the shelf that I selected and replaced it with some kind of mousse. I didn't ask her why, I trust her. Once we got in the car she turned to me and told me, Mommy, you have to stop buying Black people hair products. You are not Black. Their hair is different. She leaves for college in August. We sat and talked in the car for a long time. Our hug goodbye today lasted several minutes. Our eyes were filled with tears. I kissed her forehead and said God bless you, Daughter. That's what I've done ever since she was little. ~
The first thing I ever lost I was four years old, and we were vacationing in Galveston. Before we got to the beach, we pulled into a bait shop. My dad is big on crabs. He can stand there in the sun all day long, reeling in crabs on some line rigged to a stick in the sand. So we were making the usual bait shop stop, where my dad got his stuff and we girls got candy. But I remember this day. On this stop, I did not choose candy. Instead, I brought a sand toy to the counter. It was a plastic turtle, but it was really a bucket and a shovel and a sand castle mold, all packed away neatly into the turtle. I fell in love with it and spent the whole trip on the beach, creating sand castles, shoveling sand, sifting sand, putting seashells into the turtle, creating waterways and channels that allowed sea water to occasionally come up and surround my castles like a moat. I love the beach with all my heart and soul. So after a few days, we packed up our things into the old white camper, and headed back up to Dallas. Everything was packed. Everything, except... except my sand turtle kit. I started crying and wailing the second it occured and asked what was wrong, and I remember not being between my cries. Finally I managed to get it out, beach, alone in the sand, and could we turn around Daddy can you turn around? to me. My parents were startled able to get the words out that my turtle was still on the and go get it? I wanted it,
The answer was no. We weren't even out of Galveston yet, I didn't understand. I was quiet the whole way home. I remember closing my eyes and seeing my turtle on the beach. I thought about some other child playing with it. I thought about the turtle missing me as much as I was missing it. By the time we got back home, I had thoroughly wrestled with and accepted my loss. It was ok. But I can still see it, sitting there under the hot Texas sun, wondering where I am. I wonder who found it. I was thinking about this today, then I started thinking about my very first experience with pain. It was during the same time period. We were vacationing at Lake of the Pines, in East Texas. I was walking beside my mom and dad and older sister along a trail that was literally covered in pine needles. It was winter. The sky was blue and the cold air blended with the sunshine made me feel so happy. I remember as we all walked along, I just got this gust of joy and took off and started running. I just ran. As fast as I could go, down the path littered with pine needles. It didn't last long. Within seconds I was on my face, and my hands were on fire with pain. I laid there crying until my parents caught up with me. They looked at my hands. Pine needles were embedded in them, all over. They started pulling out the ones
they could, then brought me back to the camper for a painful session with the tweezers. The next morning my hands were swollen red, and I learned what "pus" was that day. It was painful. My hands were oozing. I was infected with pine juice. We had to go home and I had to go to the doctor. Somehow I recovered from my runin with the pine needles. So these two memories are my first experiences with pain, and loss. What are yours? ~
Staying Afloat... That's my current goal. Just to stay afloat on this sea of uncertainty. For once in my life, we're all on the same sea. Lots of us are on the same boat. Hey, there's plenty of room for you here on my boat. I've been sailing this thing for as long as I can remember. Here, I'll move over, come sit down and put your foot in the water. Go ahead and take your shoes off. You know, the ones you used to wear to that hi-falutin' job at the office above the bank. I go barefoot all the time, both in real life and metaphorically speaking. I have recurring dreams of wearing beautiful dresses, yet I'm always barefoot underneath. It's my happy secret. I have no Life Shoes to wear. I have no set way. I have no plan, either. All I want to do is stay afloat. There's a neighbor down the street who's taken to renting out rooms. When I heard about this, I was like, finally. It's happening. That's right up my alley. Currently, I'm a Room Renter. I plan on doing this for quite some time. I'm happy this way. When I was at my mom's apartment I thought I wanted to get all better and reclaim my old life and my old way, I thought that equalled personal success. But there's nothing successful about having no money left over after you've paid the rent. I choose to live even more simple than I did before. I don't need my own home to feel good about myself. In fact, I've discovered, being a paying tennant makes me feel like a real asset. Nevermind the fact that my current landlord is my brother in law. So what. It's still a fair and solid deal we worked out. I pay each week and buy my own food. Period. I'm happy as a clam with this arrangement. I'm thinking about opening my mind a little and taking it a step further and renting out a room from a total stranger. I don't know why I want to do this. Maybe it's a psychological thing, seeing as how I've been hanging around my family for a couple years now. I'm sort of tired of them. So anyway. I just want to share with you how peaceful it can truly be once you make peace with the fact that you are stinking broke. Broke is all in how you perceive it. Nobody is REALLY broke. If I can earn a predictable income, anybody can. If I can afford weekly rent someplace, anyone can. There's a solution for everyone. So what if they're kicking you out of your own home, as we speak. "Home" is such a broad term. It's so much more than where you rest your head at night.
Good morning! I've already said this before, but I woke up this morning wanting to say it again. ...don't put me back under the Law. Back in the mid-90's, a friend of mine had a mother in law who was veering away from Christianity and getting all into Jewish traditions, Hebrew studies & what-not. Good stuff to learn about, for sure. Biblical history is fascinating. But she was starting to go overboard. Having Sabbath dinners, observing Jewish holidays, etc. She's not Jewish. I was invited to her home once for "Bible study". Turned out to be more of a Torah study. I sat there and listened to her. She said this was a "grass roots movement", that when Christ returns, the temple procedures/animal sacrifices, etc will be reinstated. I guess she wanted to get a head start or something. Christians going back under the Law. Does it make them feel holy and righteous? Her son, who was a friend, was also starting to get into it. He said to me one time when I asked him about it, "Look at it this way, are you going to worship the Father, or the sacrifice? Jesus was the sacrifice." I stared at him in disbelief. And these were people that we had met at church. A small, Bible-believing, Jesus-loving, pure and simple congregation. And now he was standing there, insulting Christ. He also quoted the passage where Jesus says, "Do not think that I came to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I did not come to abolish, but to fulfill." The friend then said that this meant, Jesus came to live out the Law and promote it and that we should too. Not so! I shot back at him and said that he was twisting Scripture. The first part is true, because the Law was still in effect while Jesus lived, because He had not yet been sacrificed! Then I said to him, "Fulfill means to complete. Jesus Christ COMPLETED the Law." And then I said, if God were to speak to you right now on this topic, He might say something like this: "Look at this BEAUTIFUL thing I have done. Look at what I have COMPLETED. From start to finish." It's true. The Law is today as it was then. death cancels our sin beginning that it was perfectly. still God's Law. It is just as true BUT~ Jesus has taken the place for us. His and what we owe. God knew from the very impossible for a human being to follow it
Jesus came to LIVE OUT and COMPLETE the Law. It is finished. The rules have not changed. Our punishment has. We are absolved through the shedding of His blood. He is the Lamb without spot or blemish.
...don't denomination me. Recently a friend & I went to this church to see a speaker. We both wondered aloud what kind of church it was. I grabbed a bulletin, and saw what kind of church we were in. My friend asked if that was bad, I said, no, they're just off. I got into it, explaining the whole thing, and she kept going "sshhhh!" I have a tendency to get a little bit worked up sometimes. We ended up getting up & leaving, before the thing even began. And we laughed the whole way back. It spawned the best conversation ever, we talked about all things false and untrue (my fave topic) and she had some really good points. We were talking about salvation, how you can really tell what a church is made of by finding out what they believe about it. Is it faith, or works? She said, how greedy is it when people strive to earn their salvation. I didn't get what she meant. She said, if it were based on works, then people would have their own selves in mind when they serve God, their own salvation, and their eye would be on the reward in heaven. I never looked at it like that before. She's right. We were both brought up Catholic. Need I say more? This is what I was reading today: Matthew 23:4~12 And they tie up heavy loads, and lay them on men's shoulders; but they themselves are unwilling to move them with so much as a finger. But they do all their deeds to be noticed by men; for they broaden their phylacteries, and lengthen the tassels of their garments. And they love the place of honor at banquets, and the chief seats in the synagogues, and respectful greetings in the market places, and being called by men Rabbi. But do not be called Rabbi; for One is your Teacher, and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on earth your father; for One is your Father, He who is in heaven. And do not be called leaders; for One is your Leader, that is, Christ. But the greatest among you shall be your servant. And whoever exalts himself shall be humbled; and whoever humbles himself shall be exalted. And this is Jesus Himself talking! How cool is that! He's all, get off your high horse. Those called to leadership positions need to do so in humility and reverence to God, and with no shady motives. I will not go to a church where the leaders exalt themselves as kings. I will not go to a church where I am told to confess my sin
to another human being. I will not honor or pray to the mother of our Lord. It appears that Mary was very humble. Very little is mentioned about her. Even the angels in heaven refuse to be honored, why then do we attempt to pray to or give honor to a human? So many denominations. Clubs for Christians, that's what they are. Give me His Word, and His Word alone. Give me a church that says, ok, this is who we are. We love God, we believe and read His Word. Come on in, let's worship Him together. Brother Zeke will be doing the reading today, and Sister Eunice has a story to tell. Claude! Get up here with your banjo, let's jam! ...or something like that. Ephesians 2:8~9 For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, that no one should boast. We serve Him because we love Him, and it's the right thing to do. But salvation is an entire different thing. Thank God! This is why ANYONE can come to Him, no matter where you're at in life. He loves us all SO MUCH! In this cold dark messed up world, how can you not want to receive His love? It's the only thing that will never let you down, and it's big, and it's warm, and comforting, and it's REAL. Don't tell me His grace isn't sufficient. I lived it. I owe Him my life.
...Ok so, that being said, this morning I woke up with the Satanic motto thing on my mind. What do you call it? A mantra? Whatever it is that they say to themselves all the time. It is: "Do What Thou Wilt." Their saying thing has educated me even more on my own faith. Thanks, Satan people. If that's what the Horned One wants us to think, then the flipside is true with the Holy One. But not to be confused with man-made religion. When I feel myself getting all cattywompus and off balance, I'll ask Jesus in prayer, "please touch my head and align me, Lord. Please give me an alignment." A balanced path, a fine-tune walk is what I aim for. Freedom, within His will. Boldness, within humility. Being the goofy soul He created me to be, within maturity and grace. It's a beautiful day. I'm only on my first cup of tea, but I woke up a refreshed woman. I conked out hard due my little brain being so terribly overworked over the past few days. But today will be fun. My kid & I are going to spend it together.
She's graduating high school in a couple weeks. I don't know how I'm going to survive the ceremony. I'll probably collapse. I can't believe she's all grown. At least I have my betta. My little finned friend who needs me.
~ Cow Patties In '94 or '95, DeSoto held it's festival thing called Toad Holler Hoot. Yes. Yes, I know. I think they named it that because back in the day, there was an old school there called Toad Holler. Or something along those lines. So they named the town festival after it. There was going to be pony rides, face painting, a bounce house. Three-legged sack races, raffles, corn dogs... You know how those things go. All I know is, just the thought of that kind of thing makes me tired. I'd rather sit on the beach in the sun. So we were living at my ex-husband's family's place. His grandmother was really involved in all sorts of town things, she took pictures for the newspaper and organized things and stuff. At the Toad Holler festival that year, one of the events was going to be a Cow Pattie Toss. Yup. There were cows on the property where we lived. These cows, it was decided, were to be the contributors to this event. And guess who the collector of the patties was. All I know is, one day the grandmother came at me with some plastic bags, and told me what was going on. I politely obliged. I was living under her roof. So Leah and I took our bags and headed for the pasture. We spent the afternoon searching for, and carefully collecting, cow dung. The stiffest things, they are. Round, and they look almost braided. It's weird. They were dried out at least, so the smell wasn't too bad. We collected all we could, careful not to break them. I did not go to the festival. I assume the happy townfolk enjoyed the fruits of my labors. I never really claimed DeSoto as my own, although I moved there when I was 11. Oak Cliff will always and forever be my hood, and my true home. I remember my last day at my house in Oak Cliff. It was built in 1907 (or 1903, I can't remember) and what stood out the most in my mind about it was the big fat white round columns that supported the front porch. On my last day there, I stood on the porch and wrapped my arms around one. I was hugging my house goodbye. I cried that day. It was the only home I had ever known.
To this day, in my mind, it's still the only place that was my real home. Nothing else counts, except for maybe the house we moved to in DeSoto, but that was where the chaos began. Home, to me, is so much more than where you live. It's also a place in my head. This blog is going downhill. Sorry. ~ The Box I constructed it in the fall of '88. It was an assignment in my design class at community college. We were told to "make a box". Yes. I can't tell you how hard and how fast the wheels starting turning in my head when I heard that. No other instructions were given. What a delight. Art instructors are beautiful and understanding people. The first thing I did was spend some time in my dad's garage. I found a box. See the thing was, not to MAKE a box, but to start with a box, and do something with it. So I found a big sturdy cardboard box. I dumped it's previous contents on out onto the garage floor, turned it rightside up, and sat down and stared at it for a while. After getting a feel for what I wanted to do, I got to work. First, I duct taped the whole thing up tight, to where you couldn't see any flaps sticking up. Then I exacto'd a window in the center of one side. I painted the whole thing white, then threw sand from my little sister and brother's sandbox on it, for texture. Next, I mounted it on four bamboo rods, which were actually two of my dad's fishing poles (or "canes" as he called them) broken in half. I didn't ask him. So now, it stood about 3 feet off the ground. I stood back and sat down and stared at what I was creating. It was looking good. Now it was time for the scene, the things I wanted to place inside, so that when you looked in through the window, you'd see something really interesting. I filled the bottom with dirt, sprayed down with glue fixative. Then I stole the pirhanna out of my little brother's room, it was a real one, all dried up and preserved somehow. I ran fishing line through it and strung it up so that it hung from the top. I then cut the black leather strap off of my Twilight Zone watch, and laid the face of the watch in the dirt, sort of leaning over. Last but not least: I went to the craft store, in search of the final touch. I walked the aisles in hopes of finding the perfect item to complete my project. Nothing suited me, nothing fit the mood. That is, until I found myself down the bridal aisle. Of all places, this is where I found what I was looking for, but didn't know it: a cake decoration, the little plastic bride and groom, standing together, that goes atop a wedding cake. I stood the plastic couple up inside, right under the pirhanna, and beside the Twilight Zone watch, that I made sure was all wound up and with a new battery, so one could hear it ticking , if they listened closely. I was satisfied. It was a
masterpiece. It said so much. It was eerie, and deep. It had a spiritual feel to it. I brought it to class, and all of us students got to set up our boxes out in the hallway, for an "art show". The instructor went and inspected each of them, one by one, and when he came to mine, he stood still for a long time, quiet, just staring at it. He asked me what it represented. I told him I didn't know, but it had to do with danger, and waiting. The thin bamboo legs made me think of no real solid ground, and the watch gave me a sense of folded and stretched out time. Do you know what I mean? Can you look back on your years and view it all in a lump, events and phases all folded up together, and then zoom way out, and think nevermind He liked it. He asked if he could keep it. My little brother noticed his pirhanna missing. I do feel bad about that. But it was fair, seeing as how he undid the lid to the lava lamp I bestowed upon him, it was like my heritage, and I asked him to take good care of it, but instead he somehow got the top off and played with all the goo inside and ruined it. ~ My Penguin Refridgerator It came from a garage sale down the street. It stood about four feet tall and was made out of plastic. A penguin it was, white and blue. It's tummy opened up to reveal two shelves inside. I think it was originally a part of somebody's pretend kitchen set or something. I loved it. I guess I was about 7 or 8 when I got it. I remember the day I put it in my room. I sat there on my golden shag carpet and stared it down. I felt a strange new feeling well up inside me: independence. Yes. I began to feel like a grown up before I even put anything inside of it. I sat there on my floor and stared at the empty shelves, imagining how the items I chose from the real kitchen would look inside of my Penguin Refridgerator. I waited until after dinner, then made my move. Bread and cookies, peanut butter and jelly. Boxed raisins. An apple, maybe. I decided on that day that I was only going to eat in my own room from that point on. I was a free agent. But not for long. My mother discovered the missing food the next day and made me put it all back. But I remembered the feeling of having my own food, and my own appliance. To this day I feel like my own hero when I have these things. In some ways, I never grew up. I used to think some of my former boyfriends were true showcases of arrested development, but the older I get, the more I realize how many things in life I continue to view through a child's eyes. I don't mean to. It just happens. I still sit on the floor each morning to get ready, like I did when I was in high
school. My makeup and hair things sit in little ceramic containers that surround the big mirror that stands in the corner. I've always done that, you can move around that way. My mom sits at her vanity dresser that she's had since she was a teen, I guess it makes her feel special or something, but I can't bring myself to sit still for an hour each morning. I still like sleeping on the floor. I still find myself intimidated by money, making big and important purchases, and big tall men. I'm almost 40. I don't see myself changing anytime soon. I think I might be permanently seared into the same mindset I had when I was 18. Actually come to think of it, that could very much be the case with me, psychologically, all things considered. But that's another blog. ~ I Hokeyed Was it '88? or '87? I think it was '87. Yes. Yes it was. I was not yet 18. I was working at a pizza place. (not the one where I thought a pineapple pizza only had one chunk of pineapple on it, because one chunk weighed the right amount for one topping on a large pizza, according to the scale, and the Diabolical Chart on the wall that I was told NEVER TO STRAY FROM NO MATTER WHAT, and once said pizza came out of the oven, it was promptly spotted by the angry little managerial woman operating the other end with the big spatula thing, scooped up, and thrown into trash, while I was informed: G-D- AMY, IF I HAVE TO THROW AWAY ONE MORE PIZZA BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU'RE FIRED...) No, it was a different pizza place. I quit the other one on my own, no need to stand around much longer and wait to be fired. That woman hated me. On the first day, she walked up to me, grabbed the edge of my Rolling Stones concert shirt that I had paid good money for, shook her head and said, What makes you think you can dress like this up here? You have no sleeves. No, I didn't have sleeves. But nobody told me otherwise. So again, it wasn't that pizza place. It was this one, where I was told to hokey. It was my first day. I was nervous. I was already struggling with my usual mental block that quickly formed upon learning the new registers, so my mind was already compromised when he said it. The manager. A married man whose young wife would come up, hauling her kids along, and sit down and eat with him each day. I always observed them. I wondered, is he making her do this? Or is he deep down embarrassed that she's here? We never bothered my dad at work. We stayed in our world while he went to his. Other families have been fascinating me for as long as I can remember. But back to the hokey. The manager was leaving for the night, and told me, You did a good job today Amy. All I need you to do before leaving is hokey. See you in the morning. I stood there, nodded and smiled. I thought I knew what he meant. I assumed "hokey" was pizza-place language for
"hurry", or "put a little spring in your step!" Isn't that what it sounds like? So I was proud of myself that night as I closed the shop with a few other people, the kitchen guys did their thing and I did mine. I hokeyed really well. I got everything done quickly. I straightened the chairs, wiped down the tables, you name it, I at least looked at it. I left that night thinking, I "hokeyed". Well, as it turns out, "hokey" is not slang for anything. Come to find out, it's a real thing. A hokey is that little hand broom thing that looks like a vaccuum that somebody forgot to finish building. I found all this out the next day when I got there. The first thing the manager said to me was, "Amy, do you remember what I asked you to do before leaving last night?" I said yes, and smiled. I remember this conversation. I remember the look on his face when I stood there and smiled. His eyebrows went up and he looked half annoyed/half quizzical. He said, "Well.... why didn't you do it?" I told him I did, and I did it well. I told him I hokeyed. He looked down on the floor, in both directions, and all around. He told me that he could tell with his own eyes that I did not hokey. I wondered how he knew whether or not I hurried as I was cleaning. And I began to wonder, how can this matter? This went on for a minute or two. A big misunderstanding began to form like storm clouds, like it always did, while I was on the clock somewhere. I have a whole string of these types of things in my memory bank, believe me. So we went back and forth, me stating that I did in fact hokey, and he thinking me to be a liar, as he could plainly see that his shop had not been hokeyed. The frustration to this conversation mounted until the once pleasant manager shook his head and said to me, "AMY- COME WITH ME." I followed him down the hallway and watched as he opened up a little closet door. He impatiently reached inside and grabbed a little gray pole and pulled it out. He slammed this contraption down in front of me. He said, "THIS" (making sweeping movements with it) ... "THIS IS A HOKEY. " I was shocked. The clouds cleared, and I realized at once the misunderstanding. I began to laugh uncontrollably and had to cross my legs and hold my tummy so I wouldn't pee my pants. The manager did not laugh. I was beet red and did not regain my composure for the rest of the day. Actually I ended up quitting the next day. I know this probably isn't that funny. But it's early and I'm not even done with my first cup of tea. I had to get up way early just so my brain would be functioning on time this morning, I have to be at work early. So this is how I'm coping. ~
Stepping Stones How many of these have I started out with, "when I was a stay-at-home mom"? Well, here's just one more. We lived at my husband's family's place. The "yard" was actually lots of acres, but there was a treeline sort of way back from the house, it created somewhat of a yard. We pretty much stayed in front of the trees. Even my dog Jemma stayed within the boundaries that I showed her. When we first moved there, we looked into getting an electronic fence thing that would shock her, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. And nobody wanted to put a real fence up, it would be too much. So I just looked at Jemma one day and told her, Come with me, stay by my side, I'm going to show you where you can go, and where you can't go. I really said that to her. Then I asked God to tell her what I said, in Dog Speak. So we walked the perimeter of my side, occasionally looking could run. As we walked, each my mind, I said, NO!, and she the place, front and back, and she stayed right by up at me with such joy. She loved it there, she time she stepped over the border that I decided in put her ears back and quickly returned to my side.
Not once did my dog disobey me while we lived there. I could even open the door, front or back, and let her out on her own. I trusted her. She did her thing, snooped around, and came back to me. But that's not what I got on to talk about. I'm trying to sleep, actually, but I can't. I'm thinking of the stepping stone path I made in that yard one time. It was the summer of '96. I was frustrated. I remember feeling waves of anxiety come over me for no reason during that time, I was sensing something coming. I had no idea we'd be divorcing soon, but I sensed that time slowing down and coming to an end. I also sensed a storm brewing. I began to feel like a caged lion. Sometimes I would walk outside down by the treeline, just to feel like I went somewhere. I got an idea. I began to create a walking trail that weaved in and out of the trees, just outside of the view from the patio. One could not be seen on my trail. I planted flowers alongside it here & there, ordering different varieties from mail order places. Then I started buying those round stepping stones, one by one. They were expensive to me, and it's not like I had any money to spare, but I did it anyway. I'd just get one here and one there, with leftover grocery store money each week. Actually there wasn't any leftover grocery store money. I just made sure there was. By the end of the summer I had a real live walking trail, it started at one end of the yard, weaved its way in and out of the trees, old fruit trees that used to be an orchard at one time. My trail spanned quite some distance, but it never really went anywhere. The trees were in an arch- so my trail slowly led back up to the house. Even though I felt independent and free and psuedo-adventurous when walking my woodsy trail, I always ended up back home. Those stones are on my mind tonight. The more I say, the closer I feel to home. My clusters of words are like stepping stones.
I'm still not home, nor do I know where home is. In my real life, I still have no home of my own. Currently I'm sleeping on an air mattress on the floor of the bedroom I'm renting. My clothes sit on a shelving unit that serves as a dresser. I brought nothing with me. Not even my curio cabinet. But only because it wouldn't fit in my car.
Wallet Man One day as I was driving down Wintergreen Road, I noticed a lone leather wallet laying in the middle of the street. Open, on it's back, helpless and abandoned, like a stuck turtle. I pulled over and got it. There was a driver's license inside, along with other things. Just as anyone else would do, I went home, looked up the number, called the owner. He asked in a huffy tone, "WHO ARE YOU? ... and WHERE'S MY WALLET?" um... so I could tell he was mad. I told him, hey, it was on the road, and I have it here. Then I gave him my address. The doorbell rang about an hour later, and I, holding Leah on my hip, answered the door with a smile and handed him his wallet. He took it abruptly, opened it up, looked inside, and belted out at me, "WHERE'S THE G- D- MONEY?" I just stood there. I told him, there was no money inside. He cussed a little more and turned around, got in his car, and drove off. I don't think I ever told this one, because of what I did next: I went and sat on the couch and cried. Maybe it was my hormones, seeing as how Leah wasn't even a year old yet. Maybe it was his rudeness that set me off. Or maybe, my feelings were just plain hurt. For some reason I've remembered him over the years. He must have been dingier than myself, cause think about it: who in their right mind would actually give their address to come pick something up that they themselves stole? Or took money from? Know what I'm saying? I was a dumpy mom who sported leaky nipples with a butterball baby on my hip. I thought I was doing something good that day. But as it turns out, your intentions and who you are do not show on the outside. We're not transparent, as I once thought. If things like that matter so much to you, you have to show them who you are. ~
America's Most Wanted In '02 or '03, I was working at a craft store again, and one day a new employee approached me, just out of the blue, and said in a low voice: "I know who you are." I laughed, thinking some joke was coming. Then, she said it again, and with more seriousness. I looked at her and laughed again. A strange one, I thought to myself, and said, oh really? Who am I? She got all quiet, and she seemed tense. She looked down at the cash register, and then back at me. She then informed me, "I saw you on America's Most Wanted last night."
Yes. She said that. I died laughing, waiting for the punchline. None came. I just looked at her. She stood there, looking back at me. It dawned on me, this chick was for real. She then said, "You don't have to hide it from me." I asked her, What on earth are you talking about? Are you serious? As it turns out, she had seen an episode about some battered woman who was on the run. I think she did something bad to her boyfriend or something. And apparently, I looked just like her. I politely said, "You have the wrong person." She responded, "You don't have to lie." I was getting angry. I told her again that it wasn't me, and she had me mistaken for someone else. She stared me down. She knew she was right.
I could see that she was not going to take me at my word, so I said, I have already told you that it wasn't me. I'm not one to lie. Drop it. She didn't drop it. I won't repeat what all I said, but I told her what I thought of her, and that I was no liar, among other things. I suppose I ended up proving myself one way or another, after a lengthy and exasperating defense. She finally got it: she had made a mistake. A minute passed. I continued to stand there. She stood there, all shifty and uncomfortable, as she should be. Finally, she belted out with, "I'm going to the circus this weekend- want to come?" Yep. I was like, What? First I'm a murderous femme on the run, and now you want me to go to the circus with you? I told her no thank you, and walked away. This one is a fun one to tell, at work. You know how you collect work stories over the years and file them away in your head, to pull out on a rainy day and share with your current coworkers? That's what I do. So although I never made a guest appearance on America's Most Wanted, I must admit, I secretly think that's pretty cool that she thought that about me. I must be more dangerous than I think.
Carrot Juice For Mrs. Texas Random memory: 1999, being informed that I had to arrive at work 30 minutes earlier than I already was, to have Mrs. Texas' freshly juiced carrot juice ready for her. It wasn't everyday. Just a few times a week. I was already arriving there early, in order to set up. I lived in Oak Cliff at the time, and had to have Leah at school in DeSoto each morning (I had to get her there early) so that I could be ready to open the smoothie bar on time~ 8:00 am, back in Oak Cliff. So mornings were already a logistical nightmare, but I managed to pull it off. That is until a former Mrs. Texas decided that 8:00 am was not early enough for her, for she needed to be at HER destination on time, and could we open early on
certain days, just for her? Oh and have her carrot juice ready? She was already a Princess Customer, and now this. I remember overhearing her ask the manager if that was possible, and they said, certainly! But of course! Amy won't mind! I answered back, um... you guys... it's already a challenge to get my daughter to school early, and then back here early, and now you want me to get here even earlier? They did. I don't remember how it all panned out, I might have rigged it to where I dropped Leah off at her dad's in the morning because the school wasn't open yet, so I could be back at my work AN HOUR before they opened. And this was 1999. I was still a straggly mess from what just took place in my life. Divorcing, losing my little brother, falling into a relationship that made me question my sanity and being psychologically beaten to a pulp, borderline starving each day, living on whole milk and soup, and always making sure Leah had enough money on her lunch account to eat properly at school. So I remember the first day I arrived earlier than early to prepare Mrs. Texas' morning happy sunshine carrot juice for her. I was angry. The woman had already ticked me off by commenting that I never smiled at her. To me she represented the polar opposite of what I was, and what I was experiencing. I remember watching her pull up front the store in her white spiffy car and walking in like a Barbie doll. So the first day, I got out all the stainless steel equipment, freshly sterilized, and grabbed a handful of organic carrots. I sliced the tops off each one with a heavy knife and a heavy soul. She didn't understand my plight. Why am I serving her? What am I doing here? Why am I chopping organic carrots when I should be at home, fixing oatmeal for my daughter? I crammed each carrot, one by one, into the big industrial juicer, wishing they were being methodically crammed somewhere else. I had her juice ready, after all was said and done. In she walked, just as I was pouring it into a cup. I remember looking up at her as I was placing the lid on, and she greeted me. I managed a faint smile. I then overheard her mentioning to the manager that she was shocked, she actually saw a smile on my face. I hated her. But I remembered her. Or not so much her, but how I reacted to her. I was hurting and broke and stressed, she apparently wasn't. I was working hard and scraping to get by, she obviously was not. And I was serving her. Was it envy I was experiencing? No, her lifestyle held no appeal in my book. It was resentment. My pride was hurt. That, and I lacked something crucial: a servant's heart. I never knew much about that, at all, and just like everything else I've learned
in my life, it started by me first realizing my great need. I never knew how selfish I was, until I became a mother, and I had to put another human being first. I never knew how prideful I was, until I had to scrape by for a living and serve others that I perceived to be more fortunate than myself. I never knew how vain I was until I realized, it was never about me, or my own life. And I never knew how smart I was, until I started blogging. (just kidding)
Sometime in the early 90's I decided to join up with a team of Christian women who operated an emergency call center, or crisis hotline, for pregnant women who were considering abortion. It was set up to minister to them and inform them of other options, provide contact information, comfort, counseling, encouragement, and whatever else they needed. I found out about this ministry and called them up and told them I was interested in joining. The woman on the other end told me that they are a team of women who had abortions themselves, most of them at least, and wanted to help other women not to make the same mistake. I eagerly told her, I too had an abortion, in 1988, and I wanted to help. She said, that wasn't too long ago. I agreed. She then asked if I had received any proper counseling for myself. I answered truthfully, that I tried, but never went back after the first session. It was too hard. She then informed me, "I appreciate you calling, and we appreciate your interest in our ministry, but we are very careful not to hire women who might be seeking to minister out of their own pain." I was silent. I didn't understand what she meant at the time, but her words stuck with me. Years later, I understood what she was talking about, and I was thankful that she turned me away. Speaking and giving to others when you are still wounded is actually a selfish thing to do, it's just one more type of band-aid. Speaking and giving to others out of a healed and restored heart, and a real desire to share truth, is the only way to go. It takes time. I know there's people out there who think all of this has been an emotional outpouring that comes from some need to lick my wounds and show the world how hurt I've been, or am. Nothing could be further from the truth.
My answers and the things I say now are simply what I believe to be right, and I say it with a smile. Hard words that come from me are what's necessary. They don't come from some dark, vindictive place. My Maker has been vindicated through me to certain folks, just as He told me He would. I myself have no desire to be "vindicated". I'm saying this because there is still confusion out there. When will the clouds clear? When will the sky be blue? All you have to do is ask to see. I asked for eyes to see, and ears to hear. I asked for wisdom. I asked to be broken, and re-made. I got it. So can you. ~
the stamps Being a stay-at-home mom really gave me the time I needed to do things, such as, writing my own tracts and sending them anonymously to random addresses found in classified ads that were placed in the back of questionable magazines. One time I created a "tract", even though I had only been a Christian for a few years, still, I knew the basics and I had such passion flowing through my veins, I never understood it, I still don't. It seems like I've been doing this kind of thing, in one form or another, since the moment I got saved. I remember sitting on my bed one day at the age of 17, I had made copies of a Christian article, grabbed a stack of envelopes, not even knowing what I was going to do with it, but the passion thing just took over and I wanted to mushroom whatever message was given to me. On this day, I got down to the last article copy, and I noticed there was exactly one envelope left. I was surprised, seeing as how I had no idea how many copies I had made, nor did I know how many envelopes I had grabbed. These coincidences kept happening, and I began to see patterns and purpose in what I was doing. I didn't begin to tell anyone of the signs that were given to me until years later. So about the tract I created. I made several hundred copies, stuffed them in envelopes, got the questionable addresses from the shady magazines, they were all ready to go, I was all set to save the world. Until it hit me: I didn't have any stamps. And each one required 2 stamps. And I had a few hundred or so to mail. This is what I did. I didn't question anything. I closed my eyes, put my hands on the envelopes, and asked God to fund my mission. Then I went on with my day. I don't know if it was later on that day, or that week, but soon after, my mom was going to Wal-Mart, and she invited me to come along with her, she wanted to buy me a bathing suit. I have no idea why. I was married, and the only place I ever went swimming was at my own house. Or, my ex-husband's house. I never viewed it as my own. (another blog entirely) So I went to Wal-Mart and picked out a bathing suit and went into the dressing rooms to try it on. Wal-Mart has tons of dressing rooms to choose from, you go in and there's lots of curtain-covered rooms. I just walked down the hall and chose a random one, walked in, and guess what was all over the floor? In the one I just happened to choose? Lots and lots of books of stamps. Yes. All over the place.
I bent down and picked them all up. It was treasure to me. I realized that I held in my hand enough stamps to mail my messages. Normally I would have turned them in, but I knew that these were for me. Sometimes exceptions can be made, and this was one of those times. I took my stamps home and mailed all my tracts. Did you know, this was one of my very first miracles, but I just remembered it today? It was included in my printed testimony, the one that just a handful of people have/had. People who know/knew I was blogging, and that I had/have memory problems. I hinted last year that I was without it, and I'd like it, so that I could use it as an outline for what I was trying to do online. But as it turns out, I did just fine without it. Perhaps if I would have had it with me, maybe I would have simply copied it and blogged it, felt satisfied, and left all this alone. But no, instead, God allowed me to go through darkness, and confusion, and being sidetracked, "garaged", hurt, depressed, lethargic, vindictive*, rambling, vague, vain, over-expressive, silly, creative, and serious. I suppose this is who I am. What you're looking at is my improved tract. I don't need to ask God for stamps to send this one.
*immature on occasion in order to prove a point. This is different from the big Vindication thing. That was never my own deal. But that's beside the point, and also pointless. But you don't know what I mean, and that's ok. I was thinking anyway, it's good that I'm confusing, it's like a filter. I wonder how many people have taken one look at my writings and quickly moved on? Probably lots. Probably, most of them. Which reminds me of a recent vision: people walking away from me, who had just viewed me, but did a double-take and looked back, realizing. realizing. Yeah that's right. I was speaking truth all along. I'll just leave it at that, before I get in trouble for saying something I shouldn't. ~
Robin Hood I used to like to play Robin Hood. When I was a teen. With my dad's belongings. Here's one of my botched attempts. After we moved from Oak Cliff, my dad continued to own our old house and rent it
out, he didn't sell it until just a few years ago. There was a garage apartment out back, an old beat up one that no longer exists. That's where Pam lived, back when we were kids. (another blog entirely) So in the 80's, for a short period of time, some man rented out the garage apartment. I'd caught glimpses of him before, he was thin, tall, and scraggly. I overheard my dad talking about him on occasion and I figured out, the renter had some problems. All sorts of problems. So one day when I was about 18 I decided to help this man. I got a Bible, and some food. But I didn't stop there. I went into my dad's bathroom drawers and raided them: toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant, soap... socks, towels, canned goods from the pantry... combs, vitamins... Yes. I loaded up several boxes of pillaged items from my own home, put them into the trunk of my car under the cover of darkness, told my parents I was going to a friend's house. Then I drove to Oak Cliff. I pulled up into my old driveway. His car was there. I snuck out of my car, popped the trunk, and And was overcome with fear. And it hit me: What if this man questioned these things, and told my dad? I hadn't considered this yet. What if he showed them to my dad? Another thing I didn't think of. What if my dad noticed his things missing? I stood there in the driveway, looking at my loot. I was conflicted and torn. The Robin Hood in me was urging me to carry the boxes up the stairs to the garage apartment and leave them there, as planned. The intimidated daughter in me urged me to turn around, go back home, and return my father's belongings to their rightful places and their rightful owner. I remember standing there in the moonlight. I glanced over my shoulder at the street I used to play on. I remembered popping tar bubbles with a stick and learning to ride my bike. I never made up my mind. I didn't carry the boxes up the stairs, nor did I bring them back home. Know what I did? I took each box, dumped it out into the gravel driveway into a pile, then turned around and drove home. My walk has been smattered with botched and compromised attempts at good deeds, ever since. Sorry.
~ Here's something I wrote sometime last year... the long dark corral
This is the very first prophetic dream I ever had. I became a Christian at 17, and it didn't take long for the dreams to start pouring in my little head. I think I was 17 or 18 when I had this one... I found myself in a long dark tunnel, it seemed to have no end. It was very narrow- only wide enough for one person- and it was totally enclosed. I began to run, faster and faster, with no end in sight...it was very frightening...and then I realized that there were people running behind me. Not chasing me, but following me! As in, I was leading the way! Crazy! We all run faster and faster, and then I realize that we are in a corral....hurdles start appearing, and so now we are not only running as fast as we can, but now we all must leap over these hurdles, in the dark... There was a sense of urgency and fear, and I knew we must find the exit, we must make it to the end. Finally, as I'm running, I begin to see a small light at the end, and as I get closer, it gets bigger...we all up our pace and make it to the exit...and just as we are all about to be free, a huge bull thrusts his head into the exit! It was not your ordinary bull, either. It was huge. It had horns like you wouldn't believe. And glowing red eyes. It was pure evil, and it was angry, and it snorted and did that thing with it's hoof....like it was about to charge at me. I was terrified, but there were all these people behind me waiting to get out, and we had come so far, and through such darkness, and all the obstacles..... So I stood my ground and began to pray. I held up my hand in the bull's face, and began to say the Lord's Prayer. As I did, the bull diminished in size, until it was just a weak little critter on the ground! I was amazed! But no time to be amazed...I had to finish... I stood there at the side of the exit, still holding my hand in the direction of the bull, still praying, continually, and all the people began to exit, one by one, they were set free... ...they were set free......"
About a week before my seizures began in the fall of '06, I had a very disturbing vision, and this will be the first time I've ever told anyone about it, cause it was just THAT freaky. I saw an eye, and it appeared to be the eye of an animal, it was right up close to my face, peering into my head. I watched as the eye slowly looked from left to right, scanning my brain, then back again to the left, where it focused it's gaze for about a minute. I was frozen, all I could do is watch. I sensed evil, but the strange thing was, it was a large animal's eye. It was investigating my head, and I sensed it was looking for "an opening", or a weak spot, or something... It crossed my mind at that time that it could be an eye of a bull. THE bull. But the concept of it was too frightening, so I dismissed it. Now that enough time has passed, it no longer frightens me to talk about it. The eye seemed fixated on the left half of my brain. And as it turns out, the left side is my problem side. (don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. Haven't we already been over this??) What I'm saying is, yes, it's obvious this past year or two has been a real trial, a real test. But as it turns out, this has been my long dark corral as well, and the "bull" began to manifest itself in a variety of ways, starting back in '05 when I first started sharing my testimony. I always assumed the corral dream referred to my life in general, I had no idea it was a true-to-life ordeal to come, and furthermore, I have been awaiting one single event, one single showdown with the "bull", not a series of events. People, the enemy can and will manifest himself in a variety of ways in your life. It's never limited to one single battle. Look in places that you least expect. Look into the areas of your life that you think are solid. Look under things. Look under rocks, even. Be curious. It's fun!
I always assumed that a confrontation with the enemy involved direct opposition, fear, etc. Now I understand, it also comes in the form of more subtle attacks, such as depression, lethargy, and timidity, and confusion. The enemy has done all he can to keep me useless during this time. All this writing has been a struggle. I've been on a personal quest to get out of the tunnel, out of the corral, all this time. I've been running, seeking, searching, only being given just enough light for the next hurdle to overcome. So many obstacles have been placed before me. The method to my madness? Being humble and listening to God. It's all about Him. Nothing on this planet means diddly squat to me. I am still running, although just recently set free from the long dark tunnel- I will never stop. I am running home. You can try and stop me. You can ridicule me if it makes you feel better. Insult me, try to harness my gifts, pollute my mind... It's old news to me. I'm used to it. You will not win. And that's all I gotta say. Oh! One more thing-
...nevermind. well ok wait. Just so you know. I am well aware of some people saying, "her brain was infected, that's where her "visions" are coming from..." Well then, how would you explain the fact that the visions began all the way back in 1992? Or- "she's creative, an artist, quite the imagination-" No. I have no desire to invent fantasy, especially if it has to do with my Maker. Another thing- I never wanted to get on Myspace, to be honest with you. When I got sick, and had the mental capacity of an eggplant for a while, my mother went out and purchased this laptop. I had already donated my own computer back in '06, wanting nothing to do with electronic communication ever again, I hate it. But no. Not only did she get a laptop and insist I get back online "to stay connected", but in a prayer, God said to me, "Tell them who you are." I never questioned it. So there you have it. This is who I am. Ok? What's it to you, anyway? I am a dead man walking. I make no claims to this life. I am not my own. I did not get on here and expose myself in order to draw attention to myself. I did it because I was told to share. You can sift thru it all and get what you want out of it, like picking chocolate chips out of a big bowl of cookie dough. Do what you want with the contents of my head. I don't care.
~ "He's going to bless you SO MUCH!!!" Another creative project during my stay-at-home years was a book idea. I wanted to collect interesting memories and bits of wisdom from old people and fill up a book with it all. Leah & I would visit the nursing home and just sit and visit and talk to some of the residents, and I'd tell them about my idea, and I'd ask them, can I ask you what memory stands out the most in your life? Or, what have you learned is most important? And things like that. They loved it. And I got some really good golden nuggets of wisdom out of them for my book. But of course I ended up
abandoning the project eventually. So one day during this time, I was going into the post office, when lo and behold, there was my grandfather (the stiff) in the parking lot, walking to his van. He didn't live in that town but he had cows on a ranch nearby, so for some reason he had a p.o. box there. So Leah & I went up to him and I called out, Grampaw! Hi! It's me, how are you?? He stood there and with a blank face informed me that he was picking up his mail. I said to him, can I ask you something? And I told him all about my book project. I then asked him if he would tell me his favorite memory. He shook his head no and got in his van and drove off. I stood there in the post office parking lot, holding my daughter's hand, watching him drive away, and I understood more about why my own father is the way he is, or, was the way he was. It was a beautiful day, I remember that. I remember the bright blue sky and the puffy clouds. I really do. I looked at the sky and thought, I'll just go back to the nursing home today. And so I did. And just as I was walking in, I heard a weak voice call out to me from across the room, "You! You! Come over here and hold my hand. Come here!" I looked, and it was coming from a little old black woman, all crumpled up in her wheelchair. I approached her and greeted her, and she grabbed my hand, shut her eyes, clasped her other hand on top of mine, and began praying. Tears were streaming down her face. She shook her head, eyes still closed, and proclaimed: "OH HONEY. OH HONEY. HE IS REALLY GONNA BLESS YOU. HE IS REALLY GONNA BLESS YOU ONE DAY. OH HONEY. IS HE EVER GONNA BLESS YOU...." I was filled with joy and I started to laugh. Her hand was warm and my hand was still captured in her grip. I let her hold on to it for as long as she wanted. What a beautiful woman she was. What a gorgeous sight to behold. That woman was so radiant and had so much peace, it seemed that each line on her face pointed to her Maker. I remember her words, and I believe them. ~
Liver Cookies I've been meaning to do a in fact I think I already myself out of a blog so I and delete everything. So here I go again. little ditty on this ever since I started blogging, and did, but that was back before I learned how to lock would be forced to leave it alone and not change my mind I've already told this one but it no longer exists. So
I guess it was sometime in the mid-90's. I was over at my dad's, and I saw in the paper a recepie for cookies for dogs. You made them out of liver. We were/still are a big dog family, and my beloved pooch, Jemma, was the receipent of much affection and devotion from me. She was my second child. So I showed the recepie to my dad, and he told me he had not only deer liver in the deep freeze but also a frozen deer heart. He fished them out of there and put them into a plastic bag and said, You're going to make those dog cookies? Why don't you go make them over at
your mother's house. I didn't question him, it never crossed my mind as to why he suggested that. They had just recently divorced. I could have made them at my own house of course but I didn't want to go home, I was still a stay-at-home-mom and I was just spending time with my own people that day. Just filling you in as to why a grown woman was using her parent's kitchen to "cook" that day. So I go over to my mom's house, nobody was home. I proceeded to create my dog cookies. Preheated the oven, defrosted the deer organs. Got out the flour, eggs, and seasoning. And the blender. Yes. I noticed that the recepie called for a blender. I took it step-by-step, first cracking the eggs into the blender, followed by milk, seasoning, and flour. Then I inserted the defrosted liver along with the heart. I placed the lid on, and hit "puree". Next thing you know, utter chaos was reigning in my mother's kitchen, the blender making a horrible screeching sound, the blender lid flying off, and the contents of the blender went splattering and flying literally all over my mother's kitchen. It all happened so fast. It took me a minute to realize what was happening and unplug the cord. But it was too late. Her kitchen was splattered in a deep mauve coating, and I noticed the smell. It was rank. I began to get suspicious of my father at that moment in time. I began to wonder if he knew about liver smelling bad, and sent me over to my mom's on purpose. I had never made, or tasted, or even smelled liver before that day. Maybe it was due to my sheltered upbringing. Although my mom's kitchen was covered in deer entrails, I noticed there was still some batter remaining in the blender. Just enough for a few cookies maybe. So before cleaning it all up, I poured what remained into a glass baking dish, a thin layer. Just enough for my Jemma, sweetest dog in the world! Once the cookies were in the oven, I stood in the kitchen and looked around me. Where to begin? And how? Just then the doorbell rang. It was my mother's friend, Judy. She came in and wrinkled up her nose and said, What's that smell? I showed her the kitchen. I remember she and I standing there, and I remember the look of sheer wonder on her face. She said, what happened? What is this? I told her what I was making. She said, you mean to tell me, this is liver and heart in here? On the cabinets, and on the ceiling? I nodded. She looked at me and said, did you know your mother is having her friends over tonight? As it turned out, Judy told my mom she'd get there early, before my mom got home from work, to help clean the house. She just had no idea what she'd be cleaning. She turned to me and took the Lord's Name in vain, then said, alright, let's get to work. Next thing you know, under Judy's direction, I'm wearing yellow rubber gloves and scrubbing while she was disinfecting. It was a complicated process. After a few minutes of this she said, Has the smell gotten even worse in here? I pointed to the oven and told her that I went ahead and baked what was left. She lost it. She opened the oven door, got a whiff, and said, You better be glad I'm here, this smells to high heaven, and your mother is not going to be pleased. At all.
The smell was increasing and I must admit, it was horrible. It began to permeate throughout the entire house. I opened the patio door and continued my cleanup job, all the while listening to Judy say things about how my mom was on her way home, and how mad she'd be. Well, it happened. I'm almost done scrubbing, Judy was almost done with the disinfecting (I think she used Lysol), when in my mom walked. She came in through the garage and I could hear her all the way across the house: WHAT IS THAT TERRIBLE SMELL???? There was no time to defend myself. No time. The following moments were a maternal nightmare, my mom panicking and at the same time, grilling me, saying things like, YOU MADE WHAT OVER HERE?? and YOU DID THIS WITH THE BLENDER?? and then the worst part: YOU'RE COOKING LIVER IN MY OVEN?? I HAVE PEOPLE COMING OVER! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MY HOUSE? HOW COULD YOU COOK LIVER IN MY KITCHEN WHEN MY FRIENDS ARE COMING OVER??? this went on and on. She was really stressed. She got like that sometimes. Judy tried to calm her down and acted like she had done most of the cleanup, and not to worry, we'll have the smell gone in no time. My mom turned off the oven and slammed my creation down on the stovetop, then outside on the patio, shaking her head the entire time. I started to think it was funny. I don't remember the rest, like how long I stayed, and if the smell disappeared before her get-together. What I do know is, I called my dad that evening once I got home, and told him I made the cookies, and what happened. All I could hear on the other end was him laughing. Jemma loved her cookies. And I learned that liver is disgusting. I haven't gone near it since. ~ force-feeding the homeless When I was a stay-at-home-mom, sometimes I got bored. One day I decided to make some food for a homeless man who lingered under a bridge, it was at I-20 & Hampton. That seemed to be a hot spot for beggars for some reason. I had seen this man several times, so I figured I should help him out. I made him a sandwich, and put it in a plastic bag, along with some cookies, a cold drink, and a tupperware container filled to the brim with hamburger helper. And also a fork, a real one. And a napkin. And a Bible. I went and picked up my little brother and got him to go with me, looking for him. He was nowhere to be found at first, but after driving up and down the street and looking carefully several times, we spotted him. I made a quick u-turn, pulled over to the side of the road, and flagged him down. He cautiously approached the car and I handed him his lunch. He looked suspiciously at me, then into the bag, then thanked me, and walked away. He didn't even smile. So later on that night, it hit me: he had no way to read his Bible! If he lives under a bridge, and since he spends his days begging, the only time to read would be at night, and there's a good chance he had no light. So I sat up and told Tommy
that we needed to go buy a flashlight and give it to a homeless man. Tommy was quiet for a moment, then said, Amy, what did you do this time? I told him about me & Joe feeding this man, and how I gave him a Bible, but he had no way to read it. Tommy mumbled something negative and tried to go back to sleep, and I'm not sure how it all panned out, but within minutes we were in the car, Leah sleeping in the back, heading to the grocery store so I could go in and purchase a flashlight. And batteries, just in case. So once this was taken care of, Tommy asked, where is this man? I told him which underpass. He was in a really bad mood that night. A few go-rounds under the bridge and viola! I saw him! I told Tommy, THERE HE IS!!!! So we pulled over and Tommy rolled down the window and yelled out at the poor man, who was staring at us. I think he recognized the car. Tommy said, hey, did my wife give you a Bible today? The scruffy fellow peered into the car and looked at me, smiled, and nodded. Finally, a smile! I smiled back and waved. Tommy grumbled something mean under his breath and flashlight so you can read at night. My wife seems looked puzzled, took it, along with the batteries, Tommy was still not amused but I was giddy all the then said to the man, Here's a to think you need one. The man said nothing, and walked away. way home.
I sometimes wonder what happened next. Did the man ever read the Bible at night, with the flashlight? I pictured him in my mind, sitting up high on the concrete, way up high underneath the bridge, leaning against a concrete column maybe, taking in all of John's visions in Revelation and getting inspired and turned on to life once more. ~ The Stiff This is how my other grandfather died. Not Grampa Jones, who put a bullet thru his head to end it all. No, this is my other one. I haven't said much about him because he was relatively normal. He didn't talk much, except to tell you to get out of the way if you were blocking his view of the tv. He was a beer-slugging German. He even poured beer on whatever he was cooking, which was just some form of meat. It never failed, each time I'd walk into his house, the place smelled of pot roast, and there he stood over a pot in the kitchen, vaguely acknowledging my presence while he poured part of his beer on whatever he was cooking. It always smelled the same. One time me and my cousin Sonny sat at the table and made small talk with him, but the only response we got from him was a loud burp followed by a lengthy fart. Sonny and I turned beet red as we tried our hardest to keep our laughter in, but Grampaw saw it, and belted out angrily: THAT'S CONSIDERED A COMPLIMENT IN GERMANY. IT SHOWS APPRECIATION OF YOUR MEAL. That did it. Sonny and I lost it, tears streaming down our faces, dying with laughter. So I just wanted to tell you what it was like when he died. Just weeks before, Leah and I were talking about my grandparents, we were going to visit them one day and Leah rolled her eyes and sighed. She didn't want to go. I
told her, Leah, they don't have much longer to live. They could die anytime. My sweet daughter replied, Mommy, you keep saying that, but they never do. So a few weeks after that, it happened. At least for one of them. One of my sisters called me one day in '02, telling me Grampaw had died. I called my dad, who said to come on over to my grandparent's house, we were all going to meet over there while waiting for the body donation people to come pick him up. I said, You mean Grampaw is still home? Yes, he was. He was in his favorite chair, actually. I asked how he died, and it was very uneventful. He had gotten up in the middle of the night as always because he couldn't sleep, sat in his chair and turned on the tv. When my grandmother got up in the morning, she thought he was asleep, so she didn't disturb him, but as the day rolled on, she began to get suspicious. Eventually she realized he was dead. So my aunt called the body pickup folks (he donated himself to science) and all of us cousins, aunts and uncles ended up over there to pay our last respects. It was weird. My dad, who's the oldest of six and who looks just like his father, turned it into a party. It morphed into a wake. He went and got chips and dip and cake and we all stood around and laughed. Well not all of us. Just me and my cousins. The aunts were crying and my grandmother was silent, just staring at him, sitting upright in his chair. His beer still sat on the table next to him. So as the day rolled on, we started to wonder where the body guys were. All I know is, my grandfather had died in the middle of the night, and now it was evening. Finally they showed up. Young guys in blue uniforms who drove a white van that looked like an ambulance but it was just white. They came in with a stretcher and wheeled it right on up to Grampaw's favorite chair. Everybody was silent and you could hear sniffles, but I began to giggle. My cousin who stood behind me caught it too and we both found ourselves supressing laughter. The lifted him up to place him on the stretcher, and this is when I lost it. He was permanently seared into the sitting up position. They placed him on the stretcher and he was still sitting up. So they attempted to lay him down, and when they did, his legs went up into the air. Us cousins were all laughing by this point. So they pushed down on his legs, and he sat back up. They were getting frustrated, and finally said to us, You might want to look away, we have to make him lie down. None of us left the room. We all watched as one guy pushed down on the top half while the other guy pushed down on his legs. Grampaw finally gave in. He was flat at last. By this point I was doubled over with laughter, crying, trying not to wet my pants. My grandmother flung herself on the stretcher and belted out with, No! No! Don't leave me! So that's how my grandfather checked on out. My grandmother followed close behind, she died of a broken heart. The woman literally ceased functioning when he died. I think she starved herself to death. It took a couple years but she finally managed to catch up with him and joined him in the hereafter. A military funeral was held and both their ashes were interred together. My grandmother lived for him. She's the one who hails from Lake Charles, Louisiana, and her great great grandmother was the daughter of a slave on a plantation, the father of said child being the plantation owner. This means that my great great great great grandfather was from Africa? Something along those lines. All this was discovered when one of my aunts got into genealogy. She questioned my grandmother about this one relative of hers and my grandmother wouldn't talk about it. I guess she comes from a generation that
thinks mixed family heritage is shameful or something. All I know is, to think I have people that I'm related to in Africa is absolutely fascinating. I would love to meet them. ~ emu oil This one is fairly recent. Last month I walked into the vitamin department, where a coworker was telling a customer all about emu oil. The customer had it slathered all up and down her arms, going, oooh, it's so rich, and ahhh, how lovely! and stuff like that. The lady then asked my coworker, where does it come from? She glanced over at me. We both went blank. Then it hit me. I thought I knew. I thought of birds, and ducks, and oily feathers. I thought of glands. I thought of swollen glands on dogs, you know where. I thought of dogs going to the vet to have said glands expressed. And somehow, in my chain-reaction thinking process, I made the positive connection: that emu oil comes from glands located 'neath their tail feathers. I just guessed that's where the glands would be, seeing as how that's how dogs are. I wasn't making any of this up. I'm the very first to say, "I don't know" to a customer's question. But this one I was sure of. So my reply was, "It comes from their glands". The lady said, "which glands? ....these glands?" (pointing to her neck.) I said, "No.... these glands!" (and I jokingly pointed to my butt.) Yes. I really did that. Once she realized what I was saying, she glanced down at her oily arms and hands and exclaimed, "EEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW". It was in a disgusted way. I turned red, like I always do, but I mentally patted myself on the back for knowing exactly where it came from. Then, as I laid in bed that night waiting on sleep, I bolted up. It hit me. Emu oil does NOT come from expressed swollen anal glands. No, it was something else... So I got up and googled it. As it turns out, the oil is all throughout the bird and the bird is actually killed. The meat is used, and the oil that we sell is a by-product sort of thing. Ok. Whatever. I'm talking about this today because I slept way too long today and ended up having lots of fragmented bizarre dreams, one of which involved a puppy, and
somebody just picked it up, popped off the tail, and nevermind ~ Yesterday I went to a used book store and stocked up on cassette tapes because it's all my car can do. That's just my style. No complaints there, in fact I never really took to the idea of cd's anyway. I was working at a music store in the late 80's when they first came out, or when people actually started really buying them, and I just liked them because they made perfect little mirrors. I could check my lipstick and hair between each customer if I wanted. So yesterday I found so many old treasures, lots of 80's stuff that's bad, and it was bad then too. Do you remember Yaz? Upstairs At Eric's? I used to listen to that tape over and over. I never knew why. I just sort of bonded with it. So I saw it yesterday and got it, popped it in the player, and now I'm hooked on it all over again. I'm ridiculed for my taste in movies more than music. It's an official rule in my family: whatever you do, don't let Amy pick the movie. That's because I deliberately choose the most obscure one, that's what makes it so much fun. I really am trying to get all the way back up to the surface of my real life. I'm still not back to buying good food for myself though. Tonight's dinner was Dorito's and jalapeno cheese dip. I simply have no motivation to buy good food for myself. This was never a problem when my daughter was around. It's easy to keep healthy food on hand for your kid, and then you just eat what you get for them. I never had this problem till she grew up. You know that thing they showed you at school when you were a kid? The thing in science class where you get a bowl, fill it with water, sprinkle black pepper in, then dip your finger in soap and stick it in the water. All the pepper runs away like magic. Then you take your soapy finger out and the pepper returns. That's exactly how it is in my head, with my thoughts and ability to concentrate and focus. My thoughts are the pepper. Something stressful happens (the soapy finger) and that's all it takes: I am scattered once more mentally. It's not mental or emotional. It's my nervous system. Stress is handled in a whole new way, ever since my brain infection. Stress makes my thoughts break up and disperse, then once the situation is realized, or coped with, or handled, it all comes back together. Do you understand what I mean? The fog rolls in and out in my head worse than San Francisco. Speaking of, that was my first trip to California, I was 11 years old and nothing held my interest there except Chinatown. I got a big paper lantern. The second time I went to California was to Los Angeles, and again, it was Chinatown all the way. I got gifts for my coworkers, cool things. Huge 3 feet long incense for my manager, a little Budda for the store owner with his initials carved into the bottom, and a cd of some steel drum band that was playing on the Santa Monica pier for the other manager. I got beads for myself, the kind that hang in a doorway. My sister got a tiny scoop for earwax, something I cannot understand for the life of me. How does one go to Chinatown and come away with an earwax scoop?
~ I have a new thing that's happening. More needles, or bites. They feel like bites, in random places on my body. I haven't had these in a while. I had one just out of
the blue the other day while eating somewhere with my daughter. We were just sitting, talking and laughing, when it felt like a bee sting on my left arm. I screamed and jumped up and brushed at my arm, saying, I just got bit! But there was nothing there. Not even a red mark or anything. People were looking. My daughter was blushing. I realized what it was and sat down and my face was red for the next few minutes. It happened again a few days ago when my car was overheating. I smelled smoke and the thermostat was all the way to hot so I was pulling in a gas station, that's when I got it again, this time in my left leg. A sharp stab. I screamed and jumped, then realized it was just another one. My nervous system is biting me. The most painful one I ever had was in my tongue. That was last year I think. It scares me when it happens because there's no warning.I'm still all better. I diagnosed myself. That's what I'm going to be, from here on out- all better. It's that, or waste more time and energy and brain cells on my body, wondering what's happening. I've already made peace with and accepted the fact that my nervous system is running it's own course in life, separate from what I'm doing. It can do whatever it wants.Look at this blog. It sucks. I realize this. But I'm doing this so that the thing about my brother won't be the last thing I said. I don't want to leave it on a depressing note. I was going to make this happy but I just realized I said nothing cheerful here. At all. Sorry. I planted some flower seeds the other day, 4 o'clocks. Not that I like that kind, nasturtiums (orange) are my favorite. But they were all out. The grocery store. Where I stood around browsing for what-nots while the guy filled up my balloons with helium. Yes. Balloons.I sort of got tired of posting links to my blogs and videos online so I was thinking I should start taking to the air. Just a few. That's all. Ok I suppose that's it. ~
I've been broken, and repaired. I exploded, then worked hard to bring the pieces back to myself. I'm beginning to think, the joke's on me. No therapist could have ever reached these dark places. Now I can see where I've been and where I'm going, and on a day that I forget, I can easily look and remember. About a year ago during one of my foggy mental storms, I was praying, and I heard in my spirit, "do you need to be reminded of your walk with Me?" I told Him yes. He said, "it's on its way." Shortly thereafter I gained incredible momentum and energy and began churning out a string of blogs and videos, memories just pouring out of me like sweet hotcakes at midnight. On your plate at Waffle House, with a friendly waitress coming and filling up your coffee and shady men sitting alone at the back. You know that good feeling?
here's a dream I had about 7 years ago. I was in a small, dark room. There were pillows lining the walls, and I think a few people just sitting around on the floor, talking quietly, relaxing... And in the very center of this small room, there was a wooden coffee table. I think in the beginning of this dream, I had been sitting around with these people. But then, out of nowhere I get this urge...and I mean, an URGE... ...and I jump up, and I get up on the coffee table, and everybody is looking at me. I then bust out singing, at the top of my lungs, Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song!! I was like, really loud, "...VALHALLA I AM COMING!!!!!!" And everybody just sat there and stared. Yup.
This will be my last stop. No I don't mean THIS post, I mean, as in, this is my last stop. Forever. I know I've said that a million times but I only have so many brain cells and if they get spread too thin it's not a good thing. And my life is on the ever-lovin' verge of change, as we speak. It's teetering, like ...what teeters? Other than a teeter-totter? The poor kid who never wants to come home is crying right now, I can hear him. I think he's in the bedroom right below me. This poor kid seems to always be crying. I guess a little bit of crying is alright and good for the soul but he's only 2. I want to yell through the floor at the mom to go pick up her baby and hold him. But then she'd shout back, Then stop taking showers at midnight! So I'm just going to fill this li'l gem on up with all my stuff for the next few weeks I suppose till it just can't take it anymore. I'm gonna own this blog. That's right. Gonna fill it to the brim with my mental bread & butter. My verbal cornucopia. My hypothetical love muffins, lightly browned on top and just a dash of brown sugar. And then I'm going to turn and walk away, like I always do. And I will have then accomplished my mission: to record this beautiful and bizarre time of my life. This has been a once in a lifetime experience. I did slip through the cracks, yes, but they were good cracks and the fall has been cushioned and I lack nothing. Even though I own nothing. Well heck. Lookie there. What a perfect ending. Maybe I should just leave it at that?
... (july 07) A few years ago, I had a dream. I saw what appeared to be a wooden cube, I held it in my hand... It had a black ribbon around it, tied in a bow. I watched, as the ribbon untied itself, and the wooden cube began to unfold itself... it started to reveal different layers and games. First, it turned into a chess board, then it rearranged itself into a checkers board, then backgammon, Chinese checkers, and so on & so on... I was amazed at all of the different options. Then, when the cube was finished showing me all of it's various game boards, it re-folded itself back up, nice and neat, back into a small cube. The black ribbon then wrapped back around, and tied itself into a bow. When I awoke, I sensed in my spirit that I can "play any game I want." Such is life. The options are endless. How will I play? Shall I cheat? Shall I be a good sport? Shall I even participate? Do I seek to win, and do I accept a loss? How do I treat my opponent? I think that the name of the game, is to simply... play. ... today, I remembered a dream I had a long, long time ago. It was in my early twenties, back when I was living in my little "nothing's wrong, nothing has ever been wrong" world. In total denial about everything. I got like that after a traumatic event that broke my mind in half. Really. Well, figuratively speaking, of course. But I was just going along, in happy-perfect-stay-at-home-mom-land, totally forgetting my old life, having nothing to do with who I used to be. One of the things I kicked to the curb was my music. All of it. So about this dream. I saw my old room. And there was a poster on the wall. It was nice and pretty. I think it was something like a vase full of flowers or something like that. And then, the dream sort of zoomed-in on this poster....closer and closer it got.....until it focused on one tiny corner, that was just barely peeled back. I looked, and saw that there was another poster underneath! And then- the flower poster was totally peeled back, and guess what was under there?? An AC/DC poster!!! The "Let There Be Rock" tour poster. I was shocked! Totally freaked out!!! I woke up and knew this dream was really trying to tell me something. That I was covering up my old identity. With lots and lots of false layers. You see, I never outgrew certain things like normal people. I didn't give myself the chance. I just decided one day at the age of 18 that I wasn't going to have anything to do with my old life. Everything had to go, all my music, crazy clothing, wild hair and jewelry....everything.
But the poster in the dream told me that you cannot push truth away. Maybe you can push it down for a while, but you cannot deny your own reality. The truth about who you really are. No I am not a metalhead anymore (never really was anyway, just liked hanging out with them)...but I'm sure not the prim and proper floral arrangement in the poster on top. Whatever it is that you have endured or experienced, it is not going to go away. It's still there. You cannot live in denial about things regarding your past, no matter how painful they may be. You have to deal to properly deal it all up to the stuff...you have Don't attempt it with it, all of it. Some people don't know what that means. Well, with something, all you do is face it, and then ask God to bring surface, all of it...old memories, old feelings, all that messy to ask Him to be in charge of it. It's like a delicate surgery. on yourself.
And He will. He'll bring things up to the conscious level, one at a time, and you can face it and cry if you need to, and ask Him to cleanse the wound. This part can be uncomfortable. But do it anyway. And then when it's all cleansed and sterilized with HIS BLOOD.......you can experience healing and freedom and then laugh about all of it and be freaking AMAZED at the beauty of it all.... It goes on and on and on......life is so good.....God is so good!
~ (march 08) I dreamed last night that I was almost shot in the head, but at the last minute I was like, "no, uh, wait..." and then I turned and walked away from the man with the gun. He was shooting folks one by one. It was creepy. I'm glad in my dreams I seem to realize that I have choices. I fare much better in my dream life than I do my real life. Being shot seems to be a recurring theme for me. I think that's how my subconscious mind portrays trauma. In fact I remember a friend calling me just a few days after my little brother's death, and all I could say was, "it feels like my entire family was lined up against a wall and shot, all of us, one by one..." She really didn't know how to respond to that. Oh! Speaking of being machinegunned against a wall! I don't think I've ever mentioned this in a blog before, but when I was 16 and working at an ice-cream store, I was scooping up this old man a nice cone, and as I handed it to him, I happened to notice that he looked JUST LIKE Al Capone, and I couldn't resist saying so. And the funny thing is, he just stood there, all wide-eyed, peered straight into my eyes and said, "I can't believe you said that." I thought I had offended him, but no, as it turns out, his dad had been one of the men who were shot in the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. And the weird thing was, according to him, nobody had ever told him he looked like Al Capone before. As he took his cone and moved down the line I noticed he gave me a second glance over his shoulder. That's not the first second glance I've ever gotten, the kind of glance that says, I'm not so sure about you...
What on earth was I talking about. Oh yes. My walking away from the understanding gunman. After I walked away from his methodical shooting spree, I walked and walked, and this smile just busted out upon my face for no reason, until I found myself walking right into the back door of my old childhood home. I had a grocery bag with me and it had two bottles of champagne, which I left in the kitchen, and walked to my old bedroom, where I started laughing and arranging things, it was a happy thing. That is until I found myself unpacking from a box that contained one of my dead uncle's belongings, and they weren't even his good belongings. It seemed to be the contents of his bathroom cabinet or something: nasty old toothbrushes and a disgusting fake beard? Do men even wear fake beards? Looking back on this uncle, there's no way his beard was fake. It was very much alive and it was all him. This is the uncle that worked as a bouncer at the strip clubs on Harry Hines and Industrial. And when I saw the toothbrushes and the fake beard, it made me want to throw up, and that's how I woke up. I'm so glad I'm separating my blogs like this. I don't think God would appreciate it very much if I posted this rubbish among the other ones that I'm SUPPOSED to share. But I can't help it. Once something is in written form, it's processed and I can move on. Or maybe I just made that up in order to justify my blogging habit.
... I’ve been tricked, swindled, had the wool pulled over my eyes, shot and stuffed in the trunk of a 1939 Cadillac in the moonlight. Don’t make the same mistake I have made. What is it? It is: Applying Online. Don’t do it. Here’s what happens. See it’s not really applying for work, no, what it is, is you giving out your information to the Powers That Be, and then the next thing you know, the entire world has your cell phone number, address, and anything else you would rather be kept private. Throughout all these months of looking for work, not one worthy employer has called, but about ten thousand cronies of Big Brother have hit me up. Mainly it’s the phone company I’m hiding from, seeing as how I owe them about a thousand bucks for a set of cell phones that I agreed to be put in my name. I shudder at the thought of what Judge Judy would have to say to me about that. Or even worse, Dr. Laura. So I up and had my number changed. It’s a beautiful thing. My usual thing is changing it about once a year, so it was long overdue anyway. I went ahead and deleted a few obsolete contacts, then called my Inner Circle, and instructed everyone to just play like they don’t know me if anyone asks for my number. I feel free once more. My mother is at the store getting taco makings. I said, please no more light sour cream, please get the real thing. I need some fat and some calories right now. I don’t know what’s going on but I have no appetite and I’m losing weight. Which is not a good thing, seeing as how I’m about to be sucked into the system again and I need to be feelin hearty and strong. Instead, currently, I’m feeling trembly and chills and foggy and exhausted. How can I make a good impression like that? I don’t know what’s wrong but I seem to have the strength of an 80 year old woman right now. Yesterday I slept from 3:00 pm to 9:30 pm, was up for a while, got caffeinated and tried to blog, but was too exhausted, and ended up sleeping until this morning.
And today it’ll probably hit me again around 3 or 4 and I’ll need to sleep again. I haven’t been this tired in months. I had to go to the bookstore & get a book on vitamins to refresh my brain on all of it. I really don’t buy into any of it. But seeing as how that’s what I’ve been doing for the past decade I’m thinking that’s where I belong. Working the vitamin stores. On some levels I think I really hate it, deep down. Then again it’s so easy. But then again I resent the fact that I’m spending so much time learning about nutrition when the body is dying anyway. I’m quite conflicted about the whole thing and this is why sometimes I fantasize about having a Sugar Daddy, but who doesn’t? I had a dream earlier that this man was put on the torture thing called the rack, and I watched as he was slowly pulled apart and killed. They were going to also kill me and another person, and I stood there thinking, maybe they’ll do me last, by that time the rack operator will have gotten it all out of his system and just do me real quick. Sort of like the ride operators at the carnival, you can tell if they’ve had a good day or a bad day by the way they do the rides. Sometimes they let you go twice, sometimes they speed it up, sometimes they make it go TOO fast, even when all the kids are screaming. This is mainly true with rides that just spin. So! Then, before I woke up, I had another short dream, I was driving, and there was a thing of deer antlers on the seat, sort of between me and the steering wheel! Another rack! So now here I sit, all wide-eyed and bushy tailed, with a huge question mark above my head and my Foxe’s Book of English Martyrs on my lap, I’ve been looking through it for some kind of connection. About the torture rack, not the deer rack. About the deer rack. Does that mean my hypothetical balls that I keep referring to are growing? Cause the antlers were sort of sitting there on the car seat.
I’ve been looking for some information on when and how the rack thing was used, and what Christian martyrs had to die on it (come to find out, they were mainly just stretched out on it), and I found this article.
Early Christian Martyrs In his Ecclesiastical History, Eusebius tells of many martyrs in the Christian church prior to 324 C. E.. On this page are descriptions of the martyrdom of twenty-two of them. These Christians were put to death by heathen emperors, governors, and judges. What was their crime? It was admitting to being Christian. They did not have proper trials. They were tortured before being put to death. The one way to avoid the ordeal was to denounce one’s faith A few took this way out; but most, including those listed in this paper, did not. They frustrated their tormentors by cheerfully submitting to the torture. This list briefly describes the horrors that these Christians faced. The details are not pleasant to read. However, every present-day Christian should read about such atrocities as these which were inflicted on believers. Then he should evaluate his own faith. Would he be willing to die for his faith if he were faced
with the same decision? Or would he find it easier to turn his back on his faith and save his life temporarily? The names are in alphabetical order. The number in parentheses at the end of each account indicates where the information can be found in Ecclesiastical History. The Martyrs Agapius: He was brought to the arena with a murderer to be cast to wild animals. The emperor gave clemency to the murderer. When the Christian refused to accept liberty by renouncing his faith, he rushed against a bear let loose upon him. After being mauled by the bear, he was taken to prison. Surviving for one day, stones were bound to his feet, and he was thrown into the sea. (357) Alpheus: He was scourged and scraped with iron hooks and severe bonds. He received different tortures on the rack, having his feet stretched a night and a day to the fourth hole in the stocks. At length, he was beheaded. (350) Apollonia: They seized this elderly woman, beat her jaws, and broke out all her teeth. They built a fire and threatened to burn her alive unless she would repeat their impious expressions. She appeared to shrink a little, but when allowed to go, she suddenly sprang into the fire and was consumed. (258) Apollonius: He was renowned for his learning and wisdom. After he gave an eloquent defence of the faith before the judge, he was decapitated according to the decree of the senate. (205) Apphianus: When this youth tried to prevent Urbanus from sacrificing to a god, he was seized and torn by the soldiers. He received innumerable stripes on his whole body and was cast into prison. There he was stretched with both feet a night and a day on the rack. When he was brought before the judge and refused to make a sacrifice, his sides were furrowed and scraped to the bone while he was being beaten on the face and neck. When he still did not yield, they covered his feet with linen steeped in oil and set fire to the cloth. The fire penetrated to the bones, but the youth did not die or yield. Defeated, the tormentors returned him to prison. After three days, he was taken again to the judge. This time, as he remained faithful to his belief, he was thrown into the sea and drowned. (355) Blandina: She was tortured by tormentors who took turns from morning till night until they were overcome. She continued to live despite her whole body being torn asunder and pierced. Later, she was bound and suspended on a stake, being exposed as food for wild animals. When none of the animals would touch her, she was taken down from the stake and returned to prison for another time. Then, after scourging, exposure to animals, and roasting, she was thrown into a net and cast before a bull. After much tossing from the animal, she died. (172-179)
Cronion: [See the account of Julian. These two received their like torture together.] (259)
Ennathas: She was dragged by force and brought before the judge. After being scourged and enduring dreadful abuses, she was stripped of her clothes above the loins. As she was led about the city, she was beaten with thongs of hide. She remained cheerful through this; and, when she was taken back before the judge, she was condemned to the flames. (365, 366) Julian: He was an old man who was afflicted with gout. Having confessed the Lord in front of his accusers, he was carried on a camel throughout the city. In this elevation, he was scourged and finally consumed in an immense fire, surrounded by the thronging crowds of spectators. (259) Metra: An aged man, he was called upon to utter impious statements. When he did not obey, his tormentors beat his body with clubs, and pricked his face and eyes. After that, they led him to the suburbs, where they stoned him. (257) Origen: He endured many torments to the body because of his faith. He was under an iron collar, spent time in the deepest recesses of the prison, for many days was extended and stretched to four holes on the rack, was threatened by fire, and had other tortures. The judge tried hard to protract his life in order to prolong his sufferings. (255) Polycarp: He was a teacher from Asia who taught multitudes not to sacrifice to the gods nor worship them. Through a vision he had, he said that he must be burned alive. After he was bound to the stake, he prayed and awaited the fire. The flames gave the appearance of an oven around him. He was in the midst, not like burning flesh, but like gold and silver purified in the flames. A fragrant odour, like the fumes of incense, or other precious aromatic drugs, was perceived. When the persecutors saw that his body could not be consumed by fire, they commanded the executor to plunge his sword into him. When this was done, such a quantity of blood gushed forth that the fire was extinguished. His body was later burned according to the custom of the Gentiles, and his bones were buried. (143) Pothinus: He had performed the ministrations of the episcopate of Lyons. Although past ninety years of age, very infirm of body, he was taken to the tribunal where he stood firm in his faith. He was unmercifully dragged away and endured many stripes, while those nearby abused him with their hands and feet. Then, after two days in prison, he died. (174) Procopius: Before he was tried by imprisonment, he was taken before the tribunal of the governor. When commanded to sacrifice to the gods, he declared that he knew only one to whom it was proper to sacrifice. When ordered to make libations [the
ritual of pouring out wine or oil in honor of a god] to the four emperors, he stated a sentence which did not please his accusers. Immediately, he was beheaded. (349) Quinta: They took her to the temple of an idol and tried to force her to worship. When she turned away in disgust, they tied her by the feet and dragged her through the city, dashing her against the millstones and scourging her at the same time. When they completed the dragging where they started, they stoned her. (257) Sanctus: He suffered many torments devised by men. When these men could do no more, they fastened hot plates of brass to the most tender parts of his body. He withstood all the suffering, but his body was one continued wound, mangled and shrivelled, that had entirely lost the form of man to the external eye. Again, he passed through the tortures. These included the strokes of the scourge, the draggings and lacerations from the beasts, other tortures demanded by the audience, and the iron chair upon which his body was roasted. Other tortures followed until he died. (172-176) Serapion: He was seized in his own house. After torturing him with the severest cruelties and breaking all his limbs, they threw him headlong from an upper storey of the house. (258) Simeon: He was the son of Cleophas, a descendant of David, and the second bishop of Jerusalem. When he was one hundred and twenty years old, a search was made for any descendants of David. Simeon was one who was taken into custody. After he had been tormented for several days, he was crucified. (118) Theodosia: She was not yet eighteen years old, yet was distinguished for her faith and virtue. As she approached some prisoners before the judgment seat to salute them, she was seized by the soldiers and led away to the commander. She was tortured cruelly, having her sides and breasts furrowed with instruments even to the bones. She kept a cheerful and joyful countenance throughout. Then she was ordered to be cast into the sea. (359) Timotheus: He endured a multitude of tortures. Then he was condemned to be consumed by a slow and gentle fire. Throughout it all, he exhibited an undeniable proof of his sincere devotedness to God. (352) Ulpian: He was a young man who suffered dreadful torments and the most severe scourgings. After all of these, he was sewn in a raw bull’s hide, together with a dog and a poisonous asp, and thrown into the sea. (357) Zaccheus:
[See the account of Alpheus. These two received their like torture together.] (350) Conclusion These accounts may not seem to be believable, yet they are documented in the writings of the best-known and most reliable historian in the early Christian church. How can people treat others so cruelly? Those were pagans; but Christians would never do that, would they? They would, and they have. A classic account of this is Foxe’s Christian Martyrs of the World. Much of his chronicle describes events in England during the reign of Queen Mary, the sister of Queen Elizabeth I. Many of the victims saw abuses and false teachings in the Roman Catholic church and had left it. During this time, that church was the official one in the country. Non-Catholics were outcasts and suffered cruel punishments. Other martyrs, including the apostles and European reformers are also described. The Catholics, too, suffered when the official church was a Protestant one. The Spanish Inquisition was a period when civil authorities persecuted, expelled, or killed Catholics who had renounced their faith, Protestants, Jews, and Muslims. What happened to early-day Mormons who tried to leave the group in what is now Utah? What happens to members of some cults who discover that they have been deceived? What happens to Christians who try to teach the Gospel in a country that forbids Christianity? What did Christians do to Jews during the Crusade expeditions and during World War II? What happens to Muslims in Western nations? Many of the first colonists in the United States were Christians seeking freedom of worship that they did not have in their homelands which had an official socalled "Christian" religion. Some Christians are guilty of ostracization and other psychological means to attack those who leave their churches. Many Christians today are very apathetic about their proclaimed faith. They take for granted the religious freedom which they have.
I can’t believe this. I can’t stop blogging now. As it turns out, if you rearrange the letters in my maiden name, it spells normal! But with an H. So now I have to use it. So I’m back, but just for a little while. I can’t let this discovery go to waste. I’ve been in need of a good name for a long time. I’m not sure but this may be it. But then again I just don’t know. It’s not cute enough. We’ll see. I did have a good blogging name already but the thing is, I stole it. Which compromises my need to be original. Even though my maiden name was technically stolen from my father, it’s still mine. And even more mine, if I switch around the letters, right? It’s a good thing I discovered this today because it gave me incentive to get back on, and that’s good, because I have some things to report. For starters, today I ate Clown Food. There’s no other way to describe it. It was all a mistake. I couldn’t keep up with the drive thru line, it went so fast, there was no time to really read and decide, and I was rushed, as usual, so instead of ordering something I really wanted, I just blurted out that I wanted the breakfast 6. The orange juice was good, the hash brown was good. But the main course was something that a 5 year old must have thought up. It was: a McGriddle. I never had one before, mainly because I haven’t been out of the house before noon in over a year, and if I am, it’s Whataburger all the way. But today was different, as I was exploring a new area for new possibilities, when lo and behold, a thrift store! One I never even knew existed! But it didn’t open for 15 more minutes, thus, my trek through McDonald’s, and that’s how I ended up eating Clown Food for breakfast. Let me tell you about it. I opened up the wrapper, glanced at it, and
just busted out laughing. Instead of a bun, my meal was tucked in between two little pancakes, and not only that but they had the big M on them, like seared in. Then, perfect looking strips of bacon that were cut in perfect squares, on top of a bright yellow egg that looked like something I played with in preschool in the play kitchen area. The cheese was neon orange. I took a bite and started laughing even more, because, as if the appearance of the thing were not enough, this little do-dadd of a meal has SYRUP on it. Yes. Syrup. I can’t believe this is even served to adults. I did eat it, and enjoyed it, but I just kept thinking of some clown somewhere, laughing. At the fact that somewhere out there, people are eating his invention. I called my brother in law cause I thought he would get into a conversation about it with me, but no! As it turns out, he loves them! I couldn’t believe it. I’m surprised there wasn’t a little piece of candy lodged in the center of it, or maybe a little surprise toy. Nevermind. The other thing I had to report is what I found in the thrift store! I was supposed to be looking for decent clothes for an interview, but instead something so cute caught my eye, it was a little piece of wood with some ceramic peas on it. You hang it on your wall. It looks like some old lady made it and it is so cute! It’s three pods, and the one in the middle is opened and you can see the little peas inside. It looks like she just rolled a bunch of clay into little balls and tucked them in there, and painted them green. I don’t know why I like it so much, but it’s hanging on my bathroom wall now. It’s the very first thing I’ve bought in about 2 years that’s a decoration of some kind. And the more I look at it, the more I realize, I want more things like that. I’m not sure but I think I might be going country, but not in a Texas way, no, it’s more like, stop trying and see beauty in junk kind of way. Like, bottle cap windchimes and things like that. You know what I’m talking about. The things you really deep down want in your house. Not junk, not clutter, but things that make you feel happy. I’m telling you, thrift stores are a haven of wealth and they are always chock full of happy things. They never let me down. Well it looks like my snake is hot again. My Virtual Snake. My Interlocking Lexicon of Love Links. And my ex is paying the price. Ha! That’s funny. Seeing as how he answers emails and I don’t, all our old friends inquire about me to him, then he turns around and calls me and he’s like, You’ll never believe who I talked to today... and I always have to say, DO NOT GIVE OUT MY INFORMATION. There is a reason why I am not available. It’s simple! Cause I don’t want to be! If you get ballsy enough like me, you too can be free one day. I got more compliments from him today. He made my day. In fact he’s the reason why I’m up & blogging as we speak, I’m in a good mood all cause of him. He said, Amy you never ceased to amaze me when we were married. I just don’t know how you did it. It didn’t matter HOW broke we were, or how shitty of a dump we lived in, or the fact that I worked TWO shifts to put food on the table...but you ALWAYS found a way to use my peanut butter and my bread and make sandwiches for all the f**king homeless people and pass them out. Then we got on the subject of how funny it is that people who don’t know me, guys especially, mistake me for being sweet. I said, well I am sweet, just protective of my mind. And he goes, Oh! You don’t have to tell me! I know better than to go near that dangerous bastard! Sometimes I think I would marry him all over again, just so I could enjoy this divorce to him. Hey! Now there’s a thought! Do you always have to get married in order to be divorced? Would it be possible to meet someone, fall in love, then head to the courthouse for a divorce? Without getting married? Then, when the honeymoon is over, get married? Cause isn’t that the way it is anyway? Why are people so unhappy when they’re married, then relieved and happy and friends when
they’re divorced? Why is this? I’m so lazy right now just the thought of making this a cute profile makes me want to sleep. I’m exhausted. Why can’t I stop this blogging? If you would stop reading then maybe I would stop writing. You are enabling me. I’m going to have to put my foot down right here and ask you to stop. But then I hear so & so was reading my stuff, and then someone asked me today, done any writing lately? HOW CAN I QUIT? I’m trying! I can’t! This is turning into a real nightmare! What next! Who knows! Alright that’s it. I’m going to bed but when I get up I’m making a HUGE POT OF COFFEE and YOU’RE ALL GOING TO PAY THE PRICE. ... (july 07) I think I'm just going to cease all real-life communication completely, and just write for the rest of my life. I have noticed that my talking is a little slowed down anyway. As in, a real conversation, things just don't go as fast in my head, and I go blank way too easy. And it's hard to keep up with other people's thoughts if they go too fast. And for me to come up with a good response can take a while. Conversation used to be so much fun. Now it makes me look very, very dull. But hopefully that will get better over time. Or not. Who cares, anyway? Do I really care anymore? One thing I do care about is my little occasional limp. I've noticed it comes on when I'm really, really tired, or really stressed. So it has to do with my nervous system. I don't need an EMG to tell me that. I'm glad I got out of that. I knew I'd find a way. I've been wide awake all night, thinking. I've been wondering why I have so many God stories to tell. I never meant to have all this to talk about. I'm looking at my life and wondering, what on earth? Only God knows why He picks out certain folks for certain things. But I'm getting suspicious. I'm remembering lots of crazy things I've done for Him. I'm thinking, does He use me in crazy ways because I'm open to crazy things? When I got saved at 17, that's when all these ideas started coming into my head. Creative ways to spread the Word. I had to do it, I was so amazed at the whole salvation thing. It was all new to me, and I just had to make sure the rest of the world knew about Jesus. I took it upon myself to spread the Word in my own way. Most of these things I did secretly. Never told a soul. Except my little brother, who was an Accomplice. The first things we'd do were make little tracts, or just go buy a few packs at the Christian bookstore. And we'd wait till late at night. And go for a drive, all over town. I'd drive, and he'd litter. It was so much fun. I was 17, he was 7. This is how it all started, and it came to be known as "littering." Sometimes I'd go to the bookstore and get a few good books, or even Bibles, and go to my bro and say, "Psst--wanna go littering??" His face would light up like a firefly. We had so much fun. And this idea was actually his: we tied a bunch of tracts to helium balloons, and just set them free. This was his favorite way to litter. This activity sort of morphed into other things....like driving through a really
poor neighborhood, praying, picking out a house, and running up to the door, giving a one hundred dollar bill to whoever opened the door, saying "Merry Christmas and God Bless You!!" ...and running back to the car and driving off before they could say anything. I can't describe the surge of adrenaline you get when you do things like that. It's almost too much. When I finally wrote my testimony several years ago, I wasn't satisfied just passing it around to my friends. I made sure one got sent to Australia. To an old friend. He was a mess at the time and really needed some good old-fashioned inspiration. And then I also sent a copy to this minister in Africa, who wrote back and said they read it aloud at one of their services, and many people were touched. It's always best to do these types of things anonymously. Never knowing the outcome, never putting my name to anything. Because then I might be tempted to want to know the results. I'd rather not know. I'd rather view everything through eyes of faith, and not base anything on what my real eyes see. Plus, I never have to answer to anyone or explain myself that way. I think we should all be more free with God. Loosen up and do something unexpected. Be creative. Actually instead of doing something crazy, do something free. Be free with it. Think freedom. Be an open vessel that God can use. I refuse to share Christ in a normal manner. There's enough folks on God's green earth who do things right. I just let them do things their way, and I do things my way, and that's that.
I was going to be an artist. A famous one. I had it all figured out. How could I not be? I was born drawing and creating. Always holed up in my bedroom, hard at work on my next diobolical contribution to the art world. It usually involved glue and glitter and smell markers, until the age of 10. In my teens, it was paint. And clay. I even had my very own potter's wheel and a nice little kiln one time. But I had to get rid of it, because I was using them 'round the clock, ignoring both my husband and my daughter. I have no set pace. I only know how to run. Can somebody help me with this, please? Anyway, I'm saying that art has always been my thing. I never really considered doing anything else. So this is why, in my early 30's, I was beyond baffled when I sensed in my spirit that it was time to lay it all down. All of it. Wha...? But I know His voice and I know when He means business. And at this very point in time? Why would He require this of me now? I finally had my paintings in galleries, and even, yes, finally.....had two galleries contact ME, for cryin' out loud!!! That's a real landmark moment for an artist. So here I was, going strong with my paintings, and it consumed me. I mean, it's ALL I thought about. I was living at my dad's at the time, and my bedroom had it's own bathroom, and a sliding glass door that opened up to the patio. I was in my own little world, I had everything I needed at my fingertips. The bathroom became a paintbrush-rinsing station, and the patio became a canvas-drying area. Of course my dad would beg to differ on this, but we go way back on this argument. He still doesn't get it. One CANNOT paint in the garage. Or, I WILL NOT. What, am I a dog who's not yet housebroken, being banished to the garage? Surrounded by all his
junk?? How on earth did I stray so far from my point. It's funny when I write, you know what I have to do? Every few minutes or so I go blank, so I have to scroll to the top and read what I've been saying, just to bring me back. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to do that now.... I do believe my intentions for this blog was to talk about sacrifice, and obedience to God. I had been convicted in my spirit of something a few months earlier. I had been making these bookmarks and trying to sell them. Each one had a beautiful cross on one side (cut from my very own hand-marbelized paper...nice and colorful and swirly...) and a scripture verse on the other side. They were then laminated. I was trying to sell them, because about a decade earlier I did the same thing, and had orders from all over the place. Except at that time, they were free. I'd place little ads in Christian magazines and such, saying, "FREE! Beautiful and unique hand-made bookmarks. Send name and Bible verse of your choice to....." This little venture took off like wildfire. I had lots and lots of orders from prison inmates. That's how I ended up in a little bit of prison ministry, accidentally. They just started writing to me, and I couldn't resist writing back (the women only)...I made lots of special friends during that time. Tommy was not amused. I think he only knew about one inmate. Oh and I asked him to drive me down to see her one time. Her name was Raquel. We had been corresponding for about a year. It's not like it was a far drive or anything, just a few hours. He was not happy about it but he loves to drive. So anyway, we finally find the prison, and go in, and.....next thing you know, we're being searched and scanned and questioned. As it turns out, you can't just show up at a prison for a visit. You have to call in advance. They have "visiting days." To describe how Tommy was on the drive home (it was in Gatesville) is really not necessary. He was pretty mad. But again, he likes to drive, so I tried to cheer him up by putting in one of his stupid country tapes...the one with that idiotic song, "Amanda...they should 'uve made yoo, a gentlemun's wafe..." Soon enough he forgot how mad he was and started singing along. What on earth am I talking about now??? The bookmarks! Wait, I have one more thing to say about inmates. I have a big heart for them. I want to be involved in prison ministry one day. The real kind. Not just my own made-up version of it. So these bookmarks were a hit (I didn't realize at the time it was most likely due to the fact that they were free)...but eventually I got tired of doing it and moved on to something else. This was in the early 90's. So back to my early 30's, when the idea hit me again. But this time, I'll be smart about it and charge a little for them. I think it was $2.50 each, or something like that. I placed very expensive ads in various magazines and independent newspapers and waited for the orders to come piling in, like they did before. And I waited. And waited. About a month passed, and not ONE ORDER came in. I was baffled, thinking, these look even better than they did the first time around, and I've placed even better ads...what on earth?
So I prayed about it. And then I sensed in my spirit that: (and I quote my Maker)... "There are those who are peddlers of my Word. You are not to be found among them." Yup. I was floored. Bonked on the head with truth. Convicted like a thief. Corrected like a bad kid. And I just started bawling, because I knew it was true. I was peddling His Word. Trying to make a buck off of His scriptures. (each bookmark came with whatever verse you requested, on the back.) My heart was not in the right place, this time around. The first time, all I wanted was to share my talent and bless others with it. This time around, I wanted a personal profit. There is a very, very fine line when it comes to serving God with your talent. You have to be so careful about your motives. Because trust me, He sees your heart, and he KNOWS. So, long story long, I ditched the whole bookmark venture and turned back to painting. At least with the painting I was honest about it, I wasn't serving God with my splatter paint. It was just for me. But that had to go as well. Becuase at this point in time, when I was going strong with painting, I began to feel the call rise up inside me, that God had something else for me. That it was time to lay down the paints and realize that "art" is not the only way to express oneself. I argued with God in prayer, telling Him, "But art is my thing!! I've been doing it forever!!" It then began to dawn on me that "art" was simply the only way I knew how to express myself. That it's not about painting or ceramics or whatever medium you use. It's about the expression and what you're trying to convey. I was born with an incredible amount of nervous energy. My mom says at just one day old, I was pushing myself up, on my belly, in the hospital nursery. Like a push-up. Completely lifted myself up off the little mattress. The nurses told my mom they had never seen a baby do that. It's not physical strenth, it's a burning energy I carry around inside of me. It burns. It always has. And finally I learned, that if I turn that fire over to God, really cool things happen: Other people catch fire. So, after getting rid of all my canvases and paints and the bookmarks and all selfish goals and plans, I was like, "Ok God, what are you doing??" It's like He needed me to clear the slate and make room for something new. I waited. Then things started happening. For one thing, my daughter came back to live with me. I was able to put all of my energy into her and helping her with some struggles she was having. Secondly, I began to feel my fire swell, and the desire to write. To write my story. My testimony. I'll never forget the night I finally wrote the first draft.
It was October 10, 2003. A friday night. My birthday. I had been seeing this guy who....oh I better not go there. I'll just call him White Mustang. He knew my birthday was that week, and he told me, "Yeah, I'll take you out for your birthday, but it probably won't be ON your birthday...." Ok. How hard would that have been? It fell on a friday night! But, I'm not one to expect that anyway...I don't really get into cards and gifts and superficial offerings, it's all fake. But the point is, he made a POINT to not do anything that day. That's just how he was. I think he was still really angry at his ex. She must have been really demanding or something. But, here I am, on a friday night, on my 33rd birthday. I sat there facing the computer. I stared. I thought about everything. And I knew it was time to do it: I had to start writing. I sat there for hours like a crazed lunatic, my fingers flying all over the keyboard, memories and experiences just pouring out of me. I did it. I wrote my story. That first copy was a little rough, sort of blurry and rambling, and over the years I've edited it and refined it. But I tell you what. It was pure heaven to hand White Mustang a finished copy. And then tell him to kiss my ass. So this is how I started writing. And I suspect I shall continue, until the fire burns out....
I just remembered something. Several years ago, I was at a birthday party for my co-worker's 16 year old daughter. These folks were totally sold out to Christ. This was a teenage party like you've never seen, it was held in a small church, and they were blasting alternative praise music, and the kids were totally jamming to it, praising God, hands lifted in the air....I had never seen teens do such a thing. I was amazed. I sat at the back and just watched. Then this song came on that I had never heard before. The name of it was "Here I am to Worship" by Praise Band. Something about that song caused me to rise to my feet and join in the praise. It moved me to tears. I found myself so lost in this experience, music blaring and tears streaming down my face....and I began praying quietly to myself.... And then I felt a hand on me. I opened my eyes and looked. It was a woman, just some woman who came over to me. She had one hand on my shoulder and the other hand lifted in the air. I watched as she started praying in the Spirit and then she was crying. I was thinking, "have I made this lady cry??" But no. She was praying for me, and then, she opened her eyes and had this look on her face....I can't describe it.... And she says to me:
"From this day forward, your life will never be the same. IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. God will cause your words to burn like smoke." I was stunned, to say the very least. Just sayin'. Just sayin', where there's smoke, there's fire.... ~ (july 07) It all started on the day I quit drill team. The day I said I'm through with conformity and social pressure. Drill team may have been great for others, but for me personally, it turned me into a slave. A dancing robot slave. One day in a whirlwind gust of determined emotion, I stomped up those stairs in the gym, tears flowing with each step...I strutted right on in to the director's office and announced, "I QUIT!!!" She was like, "Uh...ok, Amy, do you want to talk about this? Do you need to sit down?" No. I didn't want to spend one more second of my life in that prison of gawdy makeup, turquoise tights, and forcing myself into the splits at 6:30 in the morning. It was on this very day that everything changed. It started the ball rolling in a whole new direction....an honest direction. It was the day I finally decided to be myself. I know I didn't need to be so dramatic about it- maybe I at least could have finished out the semester- but no, when I make up my mind about something, the whole world needs to know. And this is how I lost the first batch of friends. I lost more, after becoming pregnant at the age of 20. All of my friends continued to do the usual partying, why shouldn't they? I could no longer tag along...what with my growing bump & all....so there went the second batch of friends. When I became a Christian at 17, I maintained a low profile about it. I didn't mention it to anyone. Well, except for my boyfriend, who was a Christian already, but for some reason he didn't tell me. When I found out about Jesus, and having a real relationship with Him, and all that that entails, I asked my boyfriend, "So you already knew all of this?" He did. We had been dating for about 2 years! I said, "Why didn't you tell me??" He just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I thought you already knew." No. I didn't know. In my mid-twenties I finally came out of the closet and let it be known how much God means to me. I had to start talking, because all these incredible things started happening...I had to start telling people! Not to preach...but to simply share. I was amazed. And this is how I lost more friends. Then my life took a drastic turn downhill, I went tumbling into all kinds of
chaos. I survived, and emerged with a story to tell. I knew in my heart that I had to tell it. My entire life plays out like a strange dream, and telling my story is both therapy for me, and the right thing to do. More friends, gone. When they discover who I really am. And now, here I am, at the age of 37. Being forced to take time out. My inner thoughts and memories have been bubbling up to the surface, one by one, and all I can do about it is write. I am at the point where I don't care anymore about social acceptance or how many "friends" I have. I do not mind if someone chooses to distance themself from me, because I make them uncomfortable. My mission here on earth is not to make people comfortable. God gave me a mouth, and I would wither up and die if I were unable to use it. I have shared my testimony with lots of folks, and I do not regret it one bit. If you are one who has read my words, please know that I did it with nothing but love in my heart. I have to tell others what God has done for me. It blows my mind. He boggles my head, when I think of it all. ~ my poor little head! ...all funked up & what not. It's getting better though. Haven't had a seizure since December, my leg hasn't gone out on me in two months, my energy is coming back, and I actually drove a few weeks ago. Slow, but I did it. Just got the test results back from the neuro/psychologist testing, and although my thinking is a little bit fuzzy, the doc said it's nothing to be alarmed about...except for my memory. According to the test, my memory is right on the borderline of "low-average" and "impaired." Don't laugh. This is serious! I know how entertaining all of this has been to people who know me. For years, my thinking (and lack thereof) has been the brunt of many jokes. And now this. I see the humor in it. Especially losing my memory. I mean, it's sort of a good thing, all things considered. Now this is the funny part. The doc is referring me to a program/class that's for people with various types of head injuries. It's supposed to help you re-train your brain. Now this will be interesting for sure. No telling what my classmates will be like. I will most definitely report back on that. The West Nile has left scarring on my left temporal lobe. It's a souvenier that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. My neurologist says that I can expect long-term residual effects, but nobody really knows for sure, because it hasn't been around that long. There's some research going on, and I've been invited to join. I might go along with it, as long as it doesn't involve another spinal tap. I have a feeling it will. But my conscience tells me to do it anyway...I mean, I have the antibodies in my bloodstream for West Nile Virus. How cool is that?? They are trying to formulate a vaccine, I think. So....that's the latest scoop on my little health issue. This has been a very strange time in my life. I've had plenty of time to think...and write.... ...and write....
~ (march 08) Driving around unknown parts of the metroplex was fruitful this evening, and not cause I found places to apply, no. What happened was, as I was making a u-turn in this one shopping center I saw these words, bright and glowing and sparkly: NICKEL MANIA! It appears to be sort of a Chuck-E-Cheese thing but you don't have to be a child. There were adults in there, playing. Lots of video games! And pizza! And this has been there all along. When I see things like this, that's when it really hits home that I'm not involved enough in society. Also, on the way back, I noticed what appeared to be a very well-organized, colorcoded and slow moving traffic jam over to the left, and I thought, what highway is that? (it was dark.) And then I looked again and realized, it was an airport. And then it hit me! That's the airport my mom used to drop us off at in the summertime to see movies, roller skate, AND ice skate. All 3 in one, and I'm for real. We used to go back and forth from rink to rink for hours on end. But I also happen to have a really bad memory of that place. It involves a horror movie. One time my mom said to us, when she was dropping us off, "Have fun and whatever you do, don't sneak in the adult movies." So naturally we did. And of course, it was right in time for one of the worst visuals I have ever witnessed. All I saw was maybe 10 seconds of this flick but it was enough to scar me for life. I remember seeing a woman in the woods who was watching some kind of horrible ritual sacrifice thing. It disturbed me for months, but not as bad as the after-effect of being made to watch The Excorcist one evening with my family. I remember my parents fighting, my mom saying, No they're too young! And my dad saying, Don't baby them! It's good for them to see scary things! And so like any other good wholesome family evening, we all sat together on the couch under blankets and watched The Excorcist together. I was about 7 years old. To this day I cannot look at anything to do with scenes from that movie.
.... (january 09) Two nights ago I had a disturbing dream. I found myself standing inside an apartment, and there were two other people there, a man and a woman. The woman stood yelling at me, emotionally and upset, making no sense to me. The man hid in the bedroom. I did not see him, but I knew he was with the woman. He was avoiding the situation, hiding. I wanted to be away from these two people. In the dream, I sensed that I had been living with them. They seemed to be "over" me, as in, parental figures, but they were not my parents. I knew I did not want to be around them any more. I found a key and left, turning to lock the door behind me. The lock on the outside of the door was not a regular lock. It was a padlock. As I turned the key,
I sensed that this couple was being locked in this place, unable to escape. I was aware of this, and left anyway. I chose to have nothing to do with them. ~*~ These past few days have been very intense for me spiritually. I'm being shown many things, and being convicted of some things. Communication is what God is coming down pretty hard on me over right now. He has shown me that these two people in the dream represent two negative forms of communication that I am familiar with, being ways that I personally have coped with situations, and also people that I know. The woman represented emotional outbursts, the man represented passivity and avoidance. Neither one is effective. I have been praying for God to show me a better way. I "know" the better way- I read it in the Bible, I hear it spoken of- but I have never been able to achieve it on a consistent basis. He's showing me exactly what it means to communicate properly. It's a good feeling to humble yourself before the Lord. It's a good feeling to unclench your fists and let go, to ask for, and receive instruction. I lack nothing because I have Jesus Christ. He meets my every need. Last night as I cried, leaning against the wall in prayer, I asked Him to hug me. I have been single for years, hugs are becoming a foreign concept to me. I am chaste, in every sense of the word. I have only a small handful of friends that I can confide in, and even among them, I am reserved, guarding my heart with the utmost care. I save my tears for Jesus. What are you struggling with? Do you know that He can meet your every need? .. pressure brings change
I had a brief dream the other night. I was in a car, at a red light. I was waiting for the light to turn green, and I noticed that I wasn't all the way pulled up to the light, there was a good distance between me and the light, like maybe another full car length. In the dream, I did the obvious- pulled up all the way, and then the light instantly turned green. The lights are weighted, the pressure from the cars signal change. I woke up and thought, "Pressure Brings Change." This was a comfort to me, as I am facing plenty of pressure in my life currently. But I'm reminded that stress, discomfort, and pressure are elements that bring about change in our lives.
I have learned to work with it, not against it. .. communication Wholesome communication, consistently at least, is something I struggle with, having come from a home where tempers flare with no warning, and being on the defense was the only way to mentally, and emotionally, survive. Add to this my calling, my service to God, which requires graceful communication. I have no problem whatsoever reporting anything He shows me. The problem arises when my emotions get involved, which is often. Add to this the heat I receive in return. From a selfish human standpoint, I have every right to reply in sarcasm, with just a twinge of hatred, reflecting the tone that was shown to me. From a Christian standpoint, I have no right. Turning the other cheek is my current struggle, but as with all other obstacles I have encountered on this path I walk, I will overcome this as well. It's my God I seek to serve and please, not humans. I'm sharing these verses here. I love to share whatever I've learned in the past or am learning right now. I printed out these verses. It's 29 pages. I'm going to memorize them. You thought I was a badbutt* before. Just wait until you see me, once I learn proper communication. ~Amy *no more bad words. I think ass falls into that category.
• Do not be quick with your mouth, do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God. God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few (Ecclesiastes 5:2). • If anyone considers himself religious and yet does not keep a tight rein on his tongue, he deceives himself and his religion is worthless (James 1:26). • The tongue of the wise commends knowledge, but the mouth of the fool gushes folly (Proverbs 15:2). • The heart of the righteous weighs its answers, but the mouth of the wicked gushes evil (Proverbs 13:28). • But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned (Matthew 12:37). • A wise man’s heart guides his mouth, and his lips promote instruction (Proverbs 16:23). • The lips of the righteous know what is fitting, but the mouth of the wicked only what is perverse (Proverbs 10:29). • A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger (Proverbs 15:1). • Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing
(Proverbs 12:18). • A wise man fears the Lord and shuns evil, but a fool is hotheaded and reckless. A quick-tempered man does foolish things, and a crafty man is hated (Proverbs 14:16-17). • A patient man has great understanding, but a quick-tempered man displays folly (Proverbs 14:29). • An angry man stirs up dissension, and a hot-tempered one commits many sins (Proverbs 29:22). • Do not associate with a man given to anger; or go with a hot-tempered man, lest you learn his ways, and find a snare for yourself (Proverbs 22:24-25). • A man of knowledge uses words with restraint, and a man of understanding is even-tempered (Proverbs 17:27). • Do you see a man who speaks in haste? There is more hope for a fool than for him (Proverbs 29:20). • Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you will be like him yourself. Answer a fool according to his folly, or he will be wise in his own eyes (Proverbs 26:4-5). • A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control (Proverbs 29:11). • A fool’s mouth is his undoing, and his lips are a snare to his soul (Proverbs 18:7). • A fool finds no pleasure in understanding but delights in airing his own opinions (Proverbs 18:2). • Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent, and discerning if he holds his tongue (Proverbs 17:28). • The quiet words of the wise are more to be heeded than the shouts of a ruler of fools (Ecclesiastes 9:17). • Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is that Head, that is, Christ (Ephesians 4:15). • The wise in heart accept commands, but a chattering fool comes to ruin (Proverbs 10:8). • Avoid godless chatter, because those who indulge in it will become more and more ungodly (2 Timothy 2:16). • When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise (Proverbs 10:19). • A prudent man keeps his knowledge to himself, but the heart of fools blurts out folly (Proverbs 12:23). • Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen (Ephesians 4:29). • Pleasant words are a honey comb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones (Proverbs 16:24). • A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver (Proverbs 25:11). • The tongue of the righteous is choice silver, but the heart of the wicked is of little value (Proverbs 10:20.) • The tongue of the righteous nourish many, but fools die for lack of judgment (Proverbs 10:21). • The tongue that brings healing is a tree of life, but a deceitful tongue crushes the spirit (Proverbs 15:4). • The mouth of the righteous is a fountain of life, but violence overwhelms the mouth of the wicked (Proverbs 10:11). • The words of the wicked lie in wait for blood, but the speech of the upright rescues them (Proverbs 12:6). • The lips of the wise spread knowledge; not so the hearts of fools (Proverbs 15:7). • The lips of the righteous know what is fitting, but the mouth of the wicked only what is perverse (Proverbs 10:32).
• Better a poor man whose walk is blameless than a fool whose lips are perverse (Proverbs 19:1). • Put away perversity from your mouth keep corrupt talk far from your lips (Proverbs 4:24). • He who guards his lips guards his life, but he who speaks rashly will come to ruin (Proverbs 13:3). • He who guards his mouth and his tongue keeps himself from calamity (Proverbs 21:23). • Rid yourselves of all malice and deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind (1 Peter 2:1). • A man of perverse heart does not prosper; he whose tongue is deceitful falls into trouble (Proverbs 17:20). • Truthful lips endure forever, but a lying tongue lasts only a moment (Proverbs 12:19). • The Lord detests lying lips, but He delights in men who are truthful (Proverbs 12:22). • My mouth speaks what is true, for my lips detest wickedness. All of the words of my mouth are just; none of them is crooked or perverse (Proverbs 8:7-8). • An honest answer is like a kiss on the lips (Proverbs 24:26). • The righteous hate what is false, but the wicked bring shame and disgrace (Proverbs 13:5). • Above all, do not swear—not by heaven or by earth or by anything else. Let your “Yes” be yes, and your “No,” no, or you will be condemned (James 5:12). • He who conceals his sins does not prosper, but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy (Proverbs 28:13). • The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit (Proverbs 18:21). • A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control (Proverbs 29:11). • Words from a wise man’s mouth are gracious, but a fool is consumed by his own lips. At the beginning his words are folly; at the end they are wicked madness—and the fool multiplies words. (Ecclesiastes 10:12-13). • Better a patient man than a warrior, a man who controls his temper than one who takes a city (Proverbs 16:32). • A man’s wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense (Proverbs 19:11). • Better a dry crust with peace and quiet than a house full of feasting, with strife (Proverbs 17:1). • Love is not rude, it is not self-seeking; it is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs (1 Corinthians 13:5). • Do you see a man wise in his own eyes? There is more hope for a fool than for him. (Proverbs 26:12). • When pride comes, then disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom. (Proverbs 11:2). • Before his downfall a man’s heart is proud, but humility comes before honor. (Proverbs 18:2). • Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall (Proverbs 16:18). • Pride only breeds quarrels, but wisdom is found in those who take advice (Proverbs 13:10). • If you have played the fool and exalted yourself, or if you have planned evil, clap your hand over your mouth! For as churning the milk produces butter, and as twisting the nose produces blood, so stirring up anger produces strife (Proverbs 30:32-33). • What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You want something but don’t get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight (James 4:1-2a). • Starting a quarrel is like breaching a dam; so drop the matter before a dispute breaks out (Proverbs 17:14).
• It is to a man’s honor to avoid strife, but every fool is quick to quarrel (Proverbs 20:3). • He who loves a quarrel loves sin; he who builds a high gate invites destruction (Proverbs 17:19). • If you keep on biting and devouring each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other (Galatians 5:15). • The evil man is trapped by his sinful talk, but a righteous man escapes trouble. From the fruit of his lips a man is filled with good things as surely as the work of his hands rewards him (Proverbs 12:13-14). • If a man pays back evil for good, evil will never leave his house (Proverbs 17:13). • The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down (Proverbs 14:1). • A foolish son is his father’s ruin, and a quarrelsome wife is like a constant dripping (Proverbs 19:13). • A quarrelsome wife is like a constant dripping on a rainy day; restraining her is like restraining the wind or grasping oil with the hand (Proverbs 27:15-16). • Better to live in a desert than with a quarrelsome and ill-tempered wife (Proverbs 21:19). • Better to live on a corner of the roof than share a house with a quarrelsome wife (Proverbs 25:24). • Wives, be submissive to your husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, when they see the purity and reverence of your lives. Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight (1 Peter 3:1-4). • Husbands, in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives, and treat them with respect as the weaker partner and as heirs with you of the gracious gift of life, so that nothing will hinder your prayers (1 Peter 3:7). • Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing (1 Peter 3:8-9). • Each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to his neighbor [spouse], for we are all members of one body. In your anger do not sin: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold (Ephesians 4:25-27). • In your anger do not sin. Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice… Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind (1 Peter 2:11). • If you have been trapped by what you said, ensnared by the words of your mouth, then do this, my son, to free yourself, since you have fallen into your neighbor’s [spouse's] hands: Go humble yourself; press your plea with your neighbor [spouse]! Allow no sleep to your eyes, no slumber to your eyelids. (Proverbs 6:2-5). • Remind the people… to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and to show true humility toward all men (Titus 3:2). • Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe (Philippians 2:14-15). • Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many (Hebrews 12:14-15). • Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification (Romans 14:19). • When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; when we are slandered, we answer kindly (1 Corinthians 4:12-13a).
• Don’t have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels. And the Lord’s servant must not quarrel; instead, he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Those who oppose him he must gently instruct, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth, and that they will come to their senses and escape from the trap of the devil, who has taken them captive to do his will (2 Timothy 2:2326). • And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you (Ephesians 4:30-32). • Encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing (1 Thessalonians 5:11). • Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up on meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching (Hebrews 10:24-25). • Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves (Romans 12:910). • Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God (Ephesians 5:1-2). • I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace (Ephesians 4:1-3). • If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone (Romans 12:18). • The wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness (James 3:17-18). • Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ (Philippians 1:27a.). • Aim for perfection, listen to my appeal, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss (2 Corinthians 13:11-12a). • Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near (Philippians 4:5). • Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him (Colossians 3:17). • We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ (2 Corinthians 10:5). • Like an earring of gold or an ornament of fine gold is a wise man’s rebuke to a listening ear (Proverbs 25:12). • Let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance (Proverbs 1:5). • The way of a fool seems right to him, but a wise man listens to advice (Proverbs 12:15). • The discerning heart seeks knowledge, but the mouth of a fool feeds on folly (Proverbs 15:14). • He who listens to a life-giving rebuke will be at home among the wise. (Proverbs 15:31). • He who answers before listening—that is his folly and his shame (Proverbs 18:13). • The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge; the ears of the wise seek it out (Proverbs 18:15). • Listen to advice and accept instruction, and in the end you will be wise (Proverbs 19:20).
• Apply your heart to instruction and your ears to words of knowledge (Proverbs 23:12). • Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires. Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you. Do not merely listen to the word and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it —he will be blessed in what he does. If anyone considers himself religious and yet does not keep a tight rein on his tongue, he deceives himself and his religion is worthless. (James 1:19-26). ... my childhood diary from 1981 (it's a little thick diary with a roller skate on the front, complete with a big daisy beside it. The lock is broken. I'm sure Dara had something to do with that.) January 1 Dear Diary, I will be writing in you for a whole year, so I guess you'll have to know me good. I have shoulder-lengtht hair, (blonde), blue eyes, average height for an elevenyear-old, and just a tad of freckels. I'll wright in you tonight. Hi! I'm sick with the flu right now. My head hurts alot. Right now I'm in bed. Daddy is putting a shelving unit up in Val & Joe's room. I took 2 aspirins tonight, and 3 vitamin C's. I put one aspirin down the drain (secretly) because they dissolve in your mouth before you swallow them. They taste terrible!
January 2 Dear Diary, Today I seem to be doing alot better. My fever is gone and Mommy said I'm getting over the flu. Today I read Mommy's old diary. It was so funny! Someday my own kids will read this! Dara & Dawn, her friend, went ice-skating and I couldn't go. Next friday I'm going with Gretchen. I made chocolate-chip cookies while Daddy went to Ovilla. Dara and Dawn are eating spaghetti & Val is showing off like crazy! Right now I'm watching "Welcome Back Kotter". Bye- A.
January 3 Dear Diary, Tomorrow we are going ice-skating with Gramma. I can't wait! This morning we had blueberry muffins. I had a hot-dog for lunch & a hamburger pattie for dinner. Me and Dara babysitted today. New Year's Eve I babysitted and got $10! I'm all better from the flu, but my throat still hurts. Joe is crying like crazy! Today I was sitting on the couch, and I picked a buger & put it on the couch. Then Val came along and sat on it. She wiggled and whined & wondered what that gooey thing was on her leg. It was so funny!
January 4 Dear Diary, Today was so much fun! Gramma took me & Dara ice-skating. We stayed there (Plaza of the Americas) for 2 hours. Now every Sunday we're going there. Today I was babysitting Val & Joe, and Daddy was at Ovilla. I was walking by and looked at the window and saw a shadow at the window. I thought it was a crook but it turned out to be Daddy, trying to get in cause I locked all of the doors. I was so scared! I'm going to get my own ice-skates. I can't wait! Love- A.
January 5 DARA JUST NOW GOT HER PERIOD ! 9:15-p.m. Dear Diary, School started today. Today we took a test in math. It was division, so I surely didn't do good. Today was so embarrasing! I haven't shaved ANY over the holidays and my legs were so stubble. Everyone was staring at me. When I got home I shaved. I won a contest in school today where we saw who can say our spelling words the fastest. I got down to 6 seconds. I think Eric & Mike, Jon, Jason, & Bruce like me. They're always staring at me. Love- A. January 6 Dear Diary, Today was okay. We started a new unit in math. It's division. Today I won a contest in school. It was a contest to see who could read out the spelling words the fastest. I won a sucker. Woooo I don't have any homework. I babysat Valerie today. It's getting to be a daily pastime! I hate Tina. She thinks she's my overseer. I'm almost done with my book. Tomorrow I'll write my report. Sorry this is so boring, but it was a boring day! See you tomorrow- A.' January 7 Dear Diary, I think today was okay. I called Gretchen & she is going ice-skating. (with me.) She's never been before & I have to show her how. It's gonna be sow fun! Oh I feel so bad! On the 5th we had a contest. I told Mrs. Witte that my uncle is an auctioneer. Confrences are coming up so I'm afraid she's going to mention it to Mommy. I'm really in for it, huh? This dumb pen is making a real mess on my fingers. I better stop using it! L- Amy January 8 Dear Diary, I hate dara! I didn't capitalize her name because dara isn't important. I bought her a record, & she can't even give me a piece of gum! I got an A-100 on my math test, 100 in science! I put lotion on dara's clock button- the one you push to sleep longer. When she pushes it in the morning, she'll think it's bugers or something. Also I'm not talking to her. January 9 Dear Diary, today was so fun! After school, Gretchen rode home with me. We went ice-skating at the Plaza of the Americas. It's the 3rd time I've been there. We're also going on Sunday. Every Sunday at 2:30 with Gramma. Me and Gretchen drew some pictures & I finally got my soft-sculpture book. A free fruit basket came with it. Gretchen has BIG tits. Love, Amy
January 10 Dear Diary, Today was okay. We were going to see 9 To 5 at Redbird, but the tickets were all sold out. We took Gretchen home and went to visit the Roadys. Thank God it's Saturday! Tomorrow we are going ice-skating with Gramma. (Just me and Dara.) I know my way around great there. The clerk knows me good. I can skate backwards. Dara thinks she's so hot! Gretchen & I went skateboarding down the street. Love, A January 11 Dear Diary, Today was one of the worst days! We looked so forward to going ice-skating. And you know what? Gramma's car stalled and couldn't get over here from Cedar Creek. Also, Mommy is starting to get sick and me & Dara will have to watch Val & Joe all the time. I don't want to go to school tomorrow. Every Tues. & Friday (I mean Thurs.) I have to babysit Holli-4, John-6, Daniel-2. I get a dollar each time. January 12 Dear Diary, Today was ok. For the last half of school, Mrs. Witte had Jury duty. Mrs. Hopp, Jennifer's dumb mother, was our substitute. Sorry about my handwriting, but my dumb right thumb hurts like hell! Boy, if Mommy knew how much I cussed in this diary, she'd french-fry my elbows! Love, Amy January 13 Dear Diary, I hate today! First of all, we had a firedrill & it got down to 40 seconds. None of us had our coats on, & it was about 40 degrees! Also, Mrs. Coughlin gave us a division math assignment. I hate division! Mommy helped me with it. Don't tell anybody, but I might attend a course at Mountain View for help on math. Also, I might like Eric, but I really don't know. I'm going to go to bed at 9:00 because I want to sleep good. (Our usual is 10:00.) See ya tomorrow, Amy January 14 Dear Diary, This sure was a day to remember! First of all, my 3rd grade math teacher, Sister Adriana, came back to see us. Second of all, we got a new puppy! He is a Rhodesian Ridgeback, like most of all our other dogs. Poor Simba was put to sleep cause he couldn't control anything. Also he was too old. Anyway, Simbatu (the puppy) is light-brown, and soft as velour! We had to go to 2 airports to finally get it. Love, Amy January 15 Dear Diary, today was okay. For breakfast I had cereal. (Most of it ended up down the drain!) For lunch at school- wait a minute! Why am I telling the boring crap? Anyway, when we were getting ready to go home from school, Jennifer got hold of Jonathan's ball and Mrs. Witte said no balls are to be thrown in the classroom. Jennifer throwed it and it ended up in the trash! Love, Amy January 16 Dear Diary, Today we had so much homework! (Math.) Then on the radio we heard that the
hostages might be released. But they weren't. Since Susie is sick, we had to go over there and help. Now I think I have the flue. My head is HOT and I have a sore throat. Mommy took my temperature and I have 101. That's the second time I've had it this year. I probably won't get to go ice-skating on Sunday. Love, "Constantly Sick" January 17 EVERY TIME I COUGH I WILL WRITE IT DOWN. Dear Diary, (cough-cough) I've got a terrible chest cold! I have to take it easy all the time. Ya know what? Janie just got her period! She is in the 5th grade, just like me. Ain't it an early age? (cough) Today Mommy took me up to Joske's and I got a (cough-cough) new coat. It is so pretty! It is a light cream beidge, and it's a parka. It comes down to my waist. I had 3 tons of homework, but it is all finished. Love, (cough) Amy Catherine Sick (cough) January 18 Dear Diary, Today I woke up SO sick! Mommy gave me a very cold bath, and 2 thousand sponge baths! I had to stay in bed for the whole day. I'm taking horrible aspirins & medicines. You know what? The hostages are going to be released! I can't wait. That'll be a thing to write about. I'm almost done with my book- Veronica Ganz. Love, Amy January 19 Dear Diary, Excuse that mess on the opposite page. I didn't realize how messy it was! I just finished my book, Veronica Ganz. It was about a girl who was a real bully & beat up on boys & everything. Well, today was President Carter's last day in the White House. I bet Reagan is pleased! I seem to be doing better. My throat isn't soare anymore, but I've been coughing like crazy! I probably won't go to school for 2 more days. Love- Doing Better January 20 Dear Diary, I stayed home from school again today, but I think I'll be going on Thursday. Today was very important! First, Ronald Reagan became President today, (he took President Carter's place, ) then.....THE HOSTAGES WERE RELEASED! What a day! Love, Amy January 21 Dear Diary, I stayed home from school today! I can't wait till tomorrow. I get to go to school. I'll tell you my dream I had last night. Well, I was ice-skating on the highway, and went to our old deer lease, in Lampassas. It was all fixed up! (the cabin.) There was even a baby grande piano. Gretchen, my friend, was with me. I taught her how to play the piano. It popped when Valerie woke me up. Amy January 22 ME AND DARA GOT INTO A FIGHT AND SHE SAID SHE WOULD NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN AND WE BETTED $1.00 AND I WON! Dear Diary, Today was fun! I caught up on all of my work. While the rest of the class took a
science test, I had to catch up on math. After school on the kindergarden playground, Angela called me a BITCH! I really hate her! When she was leaving, I said, "I think the same of you!" and when I got home, I told Mommy. She said she's gonna tell Sister Paula on Angela. At 7:30, Daddy took me, Dara, & Valerie to swim at Kimball. I won a $1.00 bet with Dara! January 23 Dear Diary, Today was the most fun (and tiring) day! First, in school we didn't have any work, and we baked bread and did a quilting bee. Then after school, me & Dara rode the bus downtown and went ice-skating. I didn't fall once! Then Colleen called & wanted to know if I could go rollerskating. I could and we skated from 7:30 to 11:30! I rode home with her and spent the night. Before we went to bed we watched Devil Dog, Hound of Hell. It sure was scary! Love, Tired January 24 Dear Diary, Today I went to the doctor with Colleen. She had an effection of the gaul bladder. We didn't get any breakfast, so we got donuts from Kroger. Mommy came and picked me up at 3:00 and they had just come back from Ovilla. You know what? We might build a house out there. Last night at the skating rink, I forgot to tell you who was there. Bruce, Mark, Janie and Leslie. We sure did have fun! Love, Amy January 25 Dear Diary, Today was B+! First I made a cake. It was a layer cake with custard filling, and dark chocolate frosting. Then I washed my hair & took a bath. Me and Mommy went to Skagg's & got ten thousand groceries! When we got home, I helped Mommy with dinner. We had a Chineese dinner. It was so good! We had curried meatballs, and broccoly & mushrooms. I got a scripto and an erasable pen. Love, Amy January 26 Dear Diary, I hate Mondays! First of all, the Bobbits are always late. Then after school, me and Dara got into a fight. Then when we came home, Dara was feeding the dogs and the puppy got his hand (paw) stuck in the door and Dara tried to help get it out, it bit her. Now she has cuts all over her hands! I had tons of math homework! For dinner we had stuffed cabbage rolls. PS- We had a dum substitute. Her name is Mrs. Beecher. January 27 Dear Diary, Today was fun! Again, we had dumb old Mrs. Beecher. She's about 70 years old! After school, Mommy picked me up early from school to go to the library. I checked out books on turtles for the Science fair. I made a clay model of the Statue of Liberty. It's really neat! We have to turn them in tomorrow. I think mine's the best! It's a grayish-brown. Well, see you tomorrow, Amy sorry so sloppy January 28 Dear Diary, Today was good. Of course, I was late for school because of the Bobbits. I had tardy hall, and forgot to report. Now it will be doubled tomorrow. I really don't care because we stay after school 30 minutes anyway. Sharon came over and toght
(excuse my spelling) us how to french braid. Tomorrow morning Mommy is going to french braid me & Dara's hair. I might look stupid! Love, A.
(a few pages torn out)
January 31 Dear Diary, Today I went to the mall with Pam. I got a bag of candy, and another Mr. Bill pin. Right now I'm spending the night with Michelle. Love, Amy February 1 Dear Diary, This morning we had eggs, toast, and french fries. We went skating and I saw Jonathan. February 2 Dear Diary, Today is the beginning of Catholic Schools Week. Everyone has relatives or parents who went to a Catholic school. There are construction paper all over the school walls, with last names Jonathan loves me, and I love him. We are going steady, he is Love, Amy
to bring pictures of footprints made of of everyone on them. so good looking!
February 3 Dear Diary, Today I did my math homework on the calculator. The teacher doesn't mind, cause she doesn't know! Ha-Ha. I just finished my book, "The Great Gilly Hopkins". It was so good! About an orphan who steals 100 dollars and runs away to her real mom. Love, Amy February 4 Dear Diary, Today I was assigned "Class Artist". Everyone comes around my desk at art to ask for me to do their work for them. I say no because if they never learn art, then they'll keep coming! Well, Love, bye, see ya, Amy February 5 Dear Diary, My friends who I eat lunch with & play with are: Leslie, Janie, Colleen, Gretchen, and Jennifer. I just found out that Jennifer is having a slumber party, and didn't invite me. They had a vote, and voted me out. They say I'm a tag-a-long. Golley, they're bitches!
(a few more pages torn out)
February 8 Dear Diary, I found out that Eric's grandmother is friends with Aunt Mary, and the grandmom corrects our reading folders, let Mary correct some. I got a bad grade. Well, tomorrow is Monday. I hate some Mondays, but not all. Today Michelle took me to see 9 To 5 again. Starring: Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda, & Dolly Parton. Love, Amy February 9 (drew a cartoon picture of me & Jonathan kissing. by the way, Jonathan never liked me. I liked him. Eric, however, had a flaming crush on me, and of course, I detested him. Story of my life.)
February 10 Dear Diary, Today I got a 100 on my math test. We all went down to Sister Paula Marie's office & got candy. While going down, I asked Mark what he got on his, and it flew away and I grabbed it, but missed it, & ended up squeezing a fourth grade boy's butt! Love, Amy February 11 Brrrr.... Dear Diary, It has been so cold! This morning it was so cold, I got my clothes out and changed into my uniform undercovers! Now I know for sure Jonathan likes me. He always stares at me and gives me paper & all that. Now my favorite number is 22 because: A.-1, M.-13, Y.-23 + J.-10, O.-15, N.-14, A.-1, T.-20, H.-8, A.-1, N.-14 And our initials added up make 22.
February 12 Dear Diary, Today I had fun. Tomorrow, all of the girls are going to wear pony-tails & red ribbons. Yesterday, we wore pig-tails and green ribbons. I made a 100 on my math test! Right now, I am in my room listening to "Cars." My cat Max is laying here & I think he likes the soft beat. Sometimes I get scared at night, so Max always sleeps with me. Love, Amy
Friday! February 13 Dear Diary, Today was terrible! First of all, Eric told me to stick it, and then called me a bitch. I hate that bastard! Dara is a freak. Amy
February 14 Dear Diary, Me & Kristi made a berry factory. We each have an office, & we make berries. Not for real, but for pretend. Today, me & all went to Susie's house. Me & Dara played
2 games of pool, & I won the first, she won the second. Bye, Amy February 15 Dear Diary, I'll tell you my dream I had last night. We were all in the house, and war started. (Our enemy I didn't know.) Soldiers came busting down houses. Finally, they came to ours. We were carried off to camp in big trucks. I have been having weird dreams lately! Love, Amy February 16 I hate Mondays, but not this one! Dear Diary, Today was okay. On P.E., we played B.B.S., and the other team won. Mrs. Witte asked me to make a sign. The school made me the artist. When I came home, me & Kristi played berry factory. I made a 100 in Science, & a 63 in Social Studies. Bye, Amy February 17 Dear Diary, too tired to write tonight. anyway, it was a boring day zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz February 18 Dear Diary, Today was fun. After school, I played softball with Kristi. Then Greg came over and he played too. I think I don't love Jonathan anymore. He's still a good friend, but he is not as athletic as Greg. I must be a two-timer, but I think I like Greg now. I don't know if he likes me or not. Amy February 19 Dear Diary, Today was a B-. When I got home from school, just then Mommy told me to babysit Joe and Valerie. She wouldn't even let me eat! I played softball with Colleen and Dara. Then I came in and took a bath & washed my hair. This week has gone by so fast! Tomorrow's already going to be Friday! Amy
February 20 Dear Diary, Today was horrible. When I came home from school, Me & Dara had to babysit. Michelle came over & we jumped with Val. I was going to tell Mommy she was coming over & Mommy didn't already know she was already here and we were going to put Michelle outside, and right after we called over at her house & just then, she would walk in the door. But bitchy Dara spoiled it. Michelle almost had to go home cause I forgot to feed Valerie.
February 27 Dear Diary, sorry I haven't written in you so long. Today I went to Dr. Longly & got 4 teeth pulled, then I got stitches. Amy
March 1 Dear Diary, Jonathan loves me. I saw him at the skating rink. He asked me for couples. He's adorable! Since we're moving at the end of the year I'm going to tell him I love him. Amy March 3 Dear Diary, I'm not going to tell Mommy, but 1 stitch came out of my mouth. It's not bad, because it's allmost healed up. Eric...that boy likes me. I can't stand him! Yuck! He wrote me this: (drew a sketch of a piece of notebook paper that says our names at the top, then the words "I love you")
March 9 Dear Diary, So sorry I haven't written in you for so long!! I got 4 teeth pulled, Pres. Reagan was shot, and I got a job! Me and Sissy G. design cards for Hallmark! Amy >note: Sissy took one of my drawings to her mom, who showed it to a friend, who had supposed connections to the greeting card industry and who had the idea of using children's art for a line of card designs. It never panned out. Nothing more was said about it. However, I repeatedly asked Sissy about it, day after day, until she had to ask me to quit asking. This brought on untold frustration in my life, planting a deep need to create greeting cards one day, just to make it happen. It finally did. At the age of 29 I designed my own strange little line, got a copier/printer, and churned them out, all on my own. Sold a few. Just enough to say I did it. Then, like with everything else, I got rid of the copier and trashed the designs. Recently my grandmother unearthed a box full of these designs, and I was about to dispose of them the other day, until my mom grabbed it and took it to her room to hide them, saying, "No!" <
March 10 Songs From Camp: 1) Weenie Man I know a weenie man, he owns a weenie stand He sells most anything, from hotdogs, on down the line Someday I'll change his life I'll be his weenie-wife Oh how I love that weenie man! hot dog, o boy, almond joy, what a slueth, baby ruth, humdinger butterfinger, that's all, Peter Paul 2) Ragtime Cowboy (left this blank, abandoned song listing)
July 17 Dear Diary, I'm ashamed that I haven't written in you for 3 months. I had an operation on my foot again. They put a metal deelybopper in. Every 2 weeks I go in and he turns them. That makes my toe long! I went to camp also, Camp Tres Rios. We had so much fun! My favorite counselor is Big Tex. I have started to develop. I don't like it either! Dr. Gray said that I'd get my period sometime this year. We moved to DeSoto on Post Oak Lane. And I'm going to go to DeSoto Intermediate. Also, I'm going to be in band. I'm going to play the flute. I got lots of new clothes. Laura came back from France a couple days ago. She's my piano teacher's grandaughter. MiYoung's coming over at 9:00 tonight. We got Veu. We're going to get cable. Love, Amy WHOEVER IS READING THIS, I HOPE THE WORST OF YOU! But if I'm dead and you're one of those archelogists, please make me famous like Anne Frank. Just don't let my mom see it. (She might be dead, too!)
October 10 Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy B.D. Dear Amy, Happy birthday to me!
November 1 Dear Diary,
December 27 Gregg's birthday
(written in the back pages:) Hiding Places behind the entry desk under the entry desk in my closet under my bed in Val's room in the kitchen in Mommy's room People to Hide From: Elissa, and all Sonny & little kids
Mommy forgot to punish me for not doing my drawers neat. HA HA HA HA HA HA
~ (July 17, 2007) I'm already wanting to start deleting. I am resisting. My only hope to not delete is to lock myself out. And then start fresh again on a new account. What, what's wrong with that? Who says you have to stay on the same darn page for centuries? I don't know how people do that. Think about it. What would it be like if I had ALL of my thoughts on one profile. The reader would end up SO CONFUSED. It's better to stay organized. Dreams on this one. Real life stuff on that one. Turbulent and emotional letters containing everything you ever wanted to say but never did, on another one. And then a short and sweet one just saying the facts, on yet another. (This one you list under your maiden name. For the people who haven't talked to you in 20 years. I mean, come on now, do you really want THOSE folks knowing everything?) And now, here's this one...what was supposed to contain my official documented journey back to society. But I can't do it. I can't stick to the subject. I am trying. But I cannot bring myself to think about such dull matters. I'd rather tell you about some more things that happened to me that you probably wouldn't believe, but I get such a kick out of telling them anyway...such as, the time I was about to crash right into an 18-wheeler, not even a spare second in which to scream, so I just looked away and prepared for the crash...but next thing you know, I'm on the other side of the truck. No, see, you wouldn't believe me if I told you about that. Nor would you believe me if I told you about the dream that came to me in the middle of the night in '05, that showed me of something terrible to come, in vivid, terrifying detail, and it came to pass, exactly as it was shown to me, a year later. It involved my daughter, and something she did. But because of the dream I was able to understand what really happened, on an unseen level, and pray accordingly. You wouldn't believe me if I told you about it. Who can I tell? See, I want so bad to share the miraculous. But just as soon as I go there, I get all self-conscious, and start deleting. I think I am going to have to go ahead and lock myself out of here. And start over. To save what I've written. Because my words are all I have right now. I have to save them. Maybe the next account will be anonomous. I'll try it and see how I do with it. If I get lonely, and want my friends to come read again, I'll put it under my real name. Or not. ~ I promised myself that I wouldn't talk about the opposite sex, but seeing as how normal people don't remain single forever, they actually do the right thing and join forces with somebody, then that makes the topic a practical one, right? So the topic of men DOES fall into the category of life's basics and things that
normal people do. I just try to avoid the subject because when I go there in my head, I get lost in the dark woods. Because I am so pathetically inept in this area. I reflect on my six years of marriage. Tommy should have known from the very start that I'd be a handful. When, before our wedding, he sweetly asked me to wear my hair down. Because of this, I wore it up. Just because of the principle of the thing. Hopefully I have come a long way. I wouldn't know, because I have not participated in a normal relationship since then. And that was a decade ago. I hear all these women talk about "what they want in a man." This cracks me up.What, are men like menu items, custom-prepared just for us? Moreover, I'm a Christian. Yes I do take God's Word at face value. Yes I do believe that woman was created from man. And, although this is difficult to swallow, I accept the fact that we were created as man's "help mate." I cannot stand that term. Help mate? Help with what? The term "mate" is even worse. Makes me think of animals blindly drawn together and procreating. Anyway. I don't have a problem with any of this, at all. Like I tell my sister, when you choose marriage, you choose that role. Go with it and do it and enjoy it. Let him lead. Crazy women, all trying to take the reins. Pure stupidity! Why would you want that burden in your life? Why? I have been holding on to my own reins and my own team of horses for a decade. And I have driven myself into every muddy ditch along the road. I feel bad for men, always having to make the practical and common sense type decisions, such as, where to live, etc etc. All the real world stuff falls on their shoulders and they have to figure it all out. I would never want to be a man. Women have it made. Especially me. Because no matter how pleasant and peaceful I may be, going along with all things practical, there's nothing that can penetrate the inner workings of my head. My thoughts and ideas and words, all mine. It's like my own claimed territory that nobody can even attempt to set foot on. So you see, I aim for a healthy balance. I'll do whatever makes the most sense, on the surface. But don't touch my mind or the way I think. And don't even attempt an argument with me if it has to do with God. My ex-husband can testify to this. He said that the most frustrating thing world is when I get my mind set on something. That there's no negotiating, see to it that it happens, no matter what. He said I am impossible. But he laughing when he said it, so that should tell you something: I am the good headache. in the and I was kind of
So now that I fully admit that I'm no feminist, and I know pretty much who I am, I stop and try to think like the nutty women who seem to think they know what they want. I think, "if I had my pick, what type of man would I choose?" Can't do the bad boy anymore. Too much chaos and trouble. Can't do the older guy/I'm your Daddy thing either. Makes me nervous and they never listen to you. And if they do, they just sit there and smile. Why not go ahead and pat me on the head and throw me a bone while you're at it. I'm nobody's pet. Can't do the interesting musician/intellectual guy anymore. They're off on another mental
planet that's even further away from earth than MY planet. I want solid man who lives on Planet Earth. Who is strong enough to be with me but not overbearing. He needs to be able to listen. I think at this point in time, to request a man who actually understands is really pushing it. So for now I'll settle for simply being able to listen. Or not. Maybe that's what blogging is for? The most important thing is, he can't take me too seriously or get frustrated too easily with me. Not hang on my every word and take issue with it. Because I will never shut up, and I will never, EVER modify myself or beliefs to fit in with a man's perspective. I would very much like to be matched with someone who it all just...flows. Fits together, with the greatest of ease. Where we can both just be ourselves, and that's more than enough. I get him. He gets me. Period. Then we live and laugh and love and walk off into the sunset together. Don't laugh. I know what I'm doing. I am, contrary to all outer appearances, the smartest girl in the world.
Oh, by the way, notice these blogs are comment-free? That's because I am currently in my "one-way street" mode. This means that all I have to say is the final word, and other people's thoughts would only be a distraction.
~ I wonder how much I've written in my lifetime. If I would have saved any of it, maybe I'd know. I can't save anything I write. Makes me feel clogged up. Same feeling I get when I've done a painting, and it just sits there, on the wall. I don't think our own creations are meant to remain with us, whether it's art, or music, or writing, or even your kids. Everything that comes from you is supposed to go through you and out into the world. If I hold on to things, I get depressed. I've only met one person in my life who has the urge to get rid of things worse than me, and that's a lady I worked with several years ago. She was known for being very emotional and tempermental, but this took the cake: I walked into the break room one day and saw one of the chairs...just....sitting on top of the trash can. One of the chairs that we used at the table. Every day. To eat. The chair looked very sad, as if someone had tried to throw it away, but discovered at the last minute that break room chairs do not fit into trash cans, and just gave up. And left it there, perched on top of the trash can. I was standing there, observing this, wondering who on earth did this, and why. The chair was not damaged in any way. Then, in she walks. My coworker. I said, "Will you look at this! There's a chair in the trash!" And she said, "Yeah, I did
that. I hate that chair." I looked at her, thinking she must be kidding. I laughed. But no, she was dead serious. She then said, "It's ugly!" I looked at it more carefully. Maybe she had a point. After a careful observation, I decided that this chair was no more ugly than all the rest in the break room. I said, "Um, that's one of the chairs that we use!" She then started cussing and said something to the effect of, I can pull it out if I want to, she didn't care one way or the other... I remember this woman and think, thank goodness, there's somebody out there with a worse compulsion to throw things away than I have. At least I don't get rid of other people's things. Well actually that's not true. But I can't tell it here, because in the rare event my ex-husband gets desperately bored and stumbles upon this blog, he might see it, and then I'd be busted. I can say this: it has to do with family heirloom silverware, brought over here around the turn of the century. It was hidden away in an old laundry hamper, wrapped in old sheets. In the garage. And I had a garage sale one time. And donated everything left over. But I swear, I know nothing about that blue hamper with the folded white sheets that was sort of unusually heavy for a mere hamper with sheets in it.* But about getting rid of things, I really do want to stop. And I want to stop getting rid of everything I create. No, I don't want to be normal, just a little more mature. But only in the areas that matter to me. Most people have the problem of holding on too much, and have trouble letting go....but I have the opposite problem. I suppose both are equally bad.
*it was an accident, I promise. ... Wait. About work... What on earth do I do? Go back to selling vitamins? Do I even remember what all the vitamins and herbs do? At this point, no. Or, I do know, but there's like a ten second delay, and then it comes to me. Would this be ok with the customers? That's also how it is when I log in to anything. It's the password that gets me every time. I sit there and wait...and then it comes. I've discovered that if I just relax, and don't get frustrated, it comes a few seconds sooner. I was thinking, maybe I should start off doing something really, REALLY easy, just at first. Like being a cashier again. You know, there is nothing like the sweet peace of mind one gets as a cashier. Seriously. There have been many times in my life that I've relied on cashier work to get me by, and it's always like a little fun vacation job. You always have the funnest co-workers. Never mind the fact I'm usually old enough to be their mother. And it's all so easy, and fast-paced, and all you need to do is smile. And scan. And before you know it, the day is through. Your feet hurt, but you can sleep in peace. There's no need to toss and turn over work-related issues, simply because there are none.
Back to my career options. I could work at a little vitamin place that's just right around the corner, I actually worked there a few years ago. But it's a little awkward, because I sort of set the manager up with my mom, and it kind of worked, and then they started dating. But he's my friend too. Guess that makes it even stranger. Well, not really. Everybody's all one big family anyway, right? It's the middle of the night and I can already see where this blog is going. Downhill. There's a Wal-Mart nearby. I've been in it twice. The first time to use the bathroom when I was sitting around talking with this guy. What an embarrassing night that was. Could hardly keep my eyes open. Had the conversational skills of a tree stump. (me, not him.) I wasn't really prepared to grace a man with my presence at the moment. Not at all. And what's worse, I was wearing a sports bra. Yes. You heard me. It's all I had! Because I threw out everything remotely uncomfortable when all this first happened. So what's strange is, the second time I went in to that Wal-Mart was to redeem myself just a few nights later. I called up my friend AJ and was like, "You need to help me. I need a normal, pretty bra." So she picks me up and I got something cute. Was quite proud of my self. I think it was at this very moment that I subconsciously decided to come back to reality. It has just taken a while to manifest. And then I showed her how to really get rid of something you don't want. Right there in the car, I pulled off my sports bra, and threw it out the car window. Into the Wal-Mart parking lot. I never want to see it again, ever, as long as I live. I am supposed to be discussing serious matters. Work. But see, the way I see it is, all this thinking I do IS work. It's my kind of work. I do all the hard thinking, and report back to people who don't have time to. See? I think it works out beautifully. I still don't know what I will do. Whatever is easy and doesn't make me feel like an idiot. And it has to be nearby. That leaves the vitamin place, and Wal-Mart. There's also a book store, that might be a good option. Whatever I choose I'm sure it will be nice. Just to feel like a part of the world again. To see other people every day. To talk to people in person and not online. To do something constructive. All kidding aside, I don't think I'll ever complain about my job again. It's a really good thing to have. ... First off, I promised that this page would stay on the subject of everything practical. Common sense stuff. Health. Money. Car. Job. Basically all the realworld stuff that I haven't really minded putting on the back burner for a while. I really love my neurologist, Dr. B. She's so nice. She treats me like an intelligent human being, not just another patient on the conveyer belt that runs through the medical system. (I'm going through a state-funded hospital, need I say more?) So today, I'm sitting here thinking, maybe I should find out a few specifics to my situation, things I've been meaning to ask her, such as, 1) was the west nile detected in my blood, or my spinal fluid, or both? and 2) were just antibodies discovered, or was there live virus found as well? and 3) why on earth am I being sent to the neurosurgeon? ...I think these are all valid questions, mainly the one about my blood. I really need to know if my blood is funky or not.
Because I'd kinda like to go to the dentist. But I'm SURE not going if I have to be like, "Oh, yes, excuse me...you might want to use an extra layer of gloves...and a mask..." How embarrassing would that be?? So I call the neurologist's office this morning, and find myself on hold for about fifteen minutes. Finally I get to talk to a human. This is the official transcript of our conversation: "Neurogkfjgdkgk" (me) "What?" "Neurogkjfgkn7&3" (me) "Is this the neurology department?" "YES". (I just don't understand these people who answer the phone at this hospital. It's worse than a fast-food drive through.) (me) "Yes, I'd like to leave a message for Dr. B, please." "Who?" "Dr. B....I'm a patient of hers..." "She isn't here anymore." (silence) (me) .."She...isn't there??" "No. She left." "Left? Well, she's my doctor!!" "She graduated."
(silence, processing all of this, silence...) "MA'AM? Are you there?" (me) "Well, I have some questions for her! I need to talk to her." "What's wrong?" I quickly tried to explain my questions, but before I could finish, she cuts me off and goes, "YOU HAVE WEST NILE VIRUS??? HONEY YOU NEED TO GET TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM!!"
*sigh* I said, "No, no, NO!!!!" Listen to me!!! I have been treated by Dr. B for months...I'm fine...I just have some questions!!" "Well when are you coming back in?" "My next appointment is August 7." "I think you have a new doctor. Yes, you do....His name is Dr. C."
so here we go again. Will I have to re-introduce myself to this Dr. C? Will he want to order more tests? Even if he does, I'm not doing it. In fact, as soon as I got off the phone from the neurologist's office, I decided to take advantage of the situation. There was an EMG ordered for me to have done next month. A horrendous procedure. But after hearing that Dr.B is gone, I just called up the lab and was like, "Yes, this is such and such, I'd like to cancel the EMG scheduled for ......" They were like, "OK." Hopefully the EMG was just a bad idea of Dr. B, and the new doc won't think of that. Oh, I did manage to leave a message for my new doc, and he's supposed to get back with me next week to answer my questions. The funny thing is, I haven't really cared until now. I just haven't wanted to know the specifics. It's all been like a dream, and I've just been passively floating along... But after hearing the good news the other day, that it's just my memory that's bad, and not my whole brain, I am overjoyed, to say the least. My energy is through the roof. But nothing to do with it, except write.
(march 08) Well it looks like I'll be getting back into the health food stores. Work, I mean. Selling herbs. The very thing I decided not to do anymore, after what happened to my head. After all that I've adopted a new attitude: it's not my problem. Your health issues, that is. Because would it even be right to go back to selling supplements and telling folks what to put in their bodies when I was hit upside the hea WAIT!! I just realized! Not only is it right, but it adds to my whole selling charm! It doesn't compromise a thing! How come I never looked at it this way before? I recovered from encephalitis, the most nasty thing to happen to your head. Just the sound of it is nasty. I bounced back and the only thing different (like I said in previous blog) is my slightly spacey memory. I was thinking about it today and realized, all that means is that I just need to try a little harder. I just haven't been trying I think. So I can be like, yes, see here Mr. Customer, take this herb and this one and that one too! Take them all! Listen to what I say because I am super-healthy as evidenced by my complete recovery from a bad brain infection.
Well now I'm back to the whole visitor map thing, which I get hooked on, like watching the aquarium at the State Fair that has the big turtle in it, the mosscovered one who has a tricky glowing tongue that lures in the little fish. But about the job thing. I'm dangerous. I'm doing it my way now. All this time I've been playing by these new rules, where you go in and ask for an application, only to be told to go home and apply online. I've been doing this for about 3 months now? 4? 5? I've lost track. I don't know if it's the schedule I'm applying for, or the fact that I haven't been employed in over a year that's holding me back. Who knows. Well I do know the schedule thing is a catch, the place I almost got hired at only needs daytime help, but I can only work in the evenings, because I'm sharing a car with my mom. If it weren't for that I would have been hired this week. But this virtual application deal doesn't work for me. I need human contact. And so that's what I'm going to do. This is how I always used to get jobs in the past. I don't know why I'm just now doing it. I typed up my own version of a resume. It's short, funny, and cute. And then, I take several copies and deposit them generously, like candied sprinkles on cupcakes, all over town, not calling first, not asking, "are you hiring?" and other trivial things. No. This is what works for me. Just walk on in & smile, shake whatever hand is around, put my li'l paper in hand, turn, and walk away. This is exactly how I got my last job and the one before, too. It just sort of goes with me. I'm tired of trying to get a job the real way. So. I already have about 5 health food stores in mind. New ones that I didn't know existed. I got online & searched in some nearby cities, some smaller places. Yes. I got my eye on a few mom & pop stores. I'm going to do my thing tomorrow. And I'm going to be ballsy. I guess since this is a new blog I should say, I lost everything when this happened to me. My apartment, job, daughter had to go live with her dad. My state of mind was just blank. Seizures, limping, slurred speech. Perfectly happy to stare at a blank wall all day. I've downplayed it all this time in blogs, mainly because it was too hard to face the reality of it all. In fact I've only recently been processing alot of it and just now grasping the fact that I really did lose everything. Oh and my car too! On top of everything else, I lost my car. I gave it to a relative when I couldn't afford the repairs, thinking a new one would magically appear in my life. It hasn't. I gave it to the relative for him to sell, because he's the one who got it for me to begin with, and I wanted to repay him. So it's not like I just lost my mind and gave away my car. This has been painfully slow, getting back up and running. If you've never experienced a health crisis and had to drop everything there's no way you'd understand. In fact I never really had that much sympathy for unemployed or disabled folks until now. Now I see the hurdles they have to overcome to get back into the swing of things. And the funny thing is- most of the hurdles are mental! Like, psychological! It's the weirdest thing! Just keeping yourself motivated and keeping yourself afloat is hard. You get depressed. You feel worthless. I've pretty much felt as if I've slipped through the cracks of life.
... (september 07) You know, I've been thinking, and I have come to the conclusion that I have every
right to frustrate other people right now. I've decided NOT to say where I'm going next. Look at it this way: each and every day, you can get in your car and go places, while I, however, am trapped day in and day out, choosing not to have my car right now because then I'd have to be a bum and get a family member to pay for my insurance, which would be a waste right now, seeing as how I have no place to go and no money to get there even if I did. So~ I think my moving around so much is totally justified and I sort of secretly hope I am giving a few folks a good headache, making them say "to heck with her", but then they break down and find me again. I need you to read, and you need me to feed you all this nonsense. It's a match made in heaven.
Wait, did my point even get made or did I lose you in that connection? I'm saying, I can't go anywhere in real life, so I think that's why I'm moving around so much online. Is it? Or would I be doing it this way regardless? Or, would I even be doing this at all if I had a normal life right now?
See, you need to be with me as I ask myself these things.
.. I just had to escort the cat back to my mom's bedroom because she is terrified of the smoke detector and the chirping. I didn't even know she was in here, and just out of the blue, she comes slinking out of my closet with her ears back, walking all low to the ground and slow. I didn't know what her deal was, in fact I thought maybe she got into my Armageddon Stash and got poisoned or something. But as it turns out she is afraid of the sound coming from the hall closet and she was scared to walk past it to get to my mom's room. So I had to coax her and reassure her, and so she slowly started to follow me, but each time it chirped she'd jump and get all wide-eyed and frozen with fear. Finally, after about 3 minutes I got her back there to my mom's room.
Now I am making some tea, and I have decided to entertain myself tonight by taking some of those online retarded quizzes that people put up on their myspace pages. I am going to solve all of my mysteries tonight, and I will share the results here. I am the worst friend in the world. Turned down AJ wanting to go to a cultural dance thing. Or rent a movie. I just can't. I told her, my days are numbered that I can sit and write all day long, for all I know, on Tuesday I will be set free, that is if my PUBA is nothing to be concerned about, therefore I want to make the most of it and make sure I have squeezed out every little drop of inner nerd inside of me, before I rejoin society and put on the mask once more. The mask that hides it all. The one I wear when interviewing, when dealing with the general public, and on dates. The Normal Mask.
You know what? This is why I have been so conflicted these past few years. I can no longer put on any front, or hide anything, or bend and mold myself to another person's standards, thereby narrowing my pool of options down to, oh, let's say,
negative 0. If there is such a number.
I just can't alter myself anymore. Can't be quiet and dumb and submissive and agreeable and normal. No, see, that's how I spent the first half of my life. I need to do this other half right. I need to just be myself. I need a weird man. I need a guy who's brain runs all the time like mine. Or nothing at all. Please God don't stick me with some dumpy man named Chuck who drinks a 12 pack all day in front of the tv and burps and farts and smells like hot dogs. Please God, please no. ..
If it turns out that it's a fluid problem in my spine/brain, I know I still did the right thing by not saying anything about it to the docs. See, when all this first happened, before I got any diagnosis or tests or anything, I told my mom about the prayer and about the fluid problem. My mom said, "in this case Amy it's best not to mention that, just let the doctors do their thing and explore and find out what the problem is their way." And so I never brought it up, except I did show one doc my toe, when he was doing all this stuff to me to check for a concussion or something? All I know is, I had to balance on one foot and try to push his arms down. No, wait, I had to try to hold MY arms up, while he tried to push them down. Turns out my right side is weak, well of course it was, because my leg had a blowout and I limped like a wounded stray dog. So this doc saw it, and asked about it, and I told him I had surgery as a child, and what they did to it, and just out of the blue he goes, "Was it at Scottish Rite Hospital?" It was! Then he just looked at me for a minute. I didn't ask how he knew, because then it would be freaky if it turned out that he was like an intern or something at the time. How would he know that, anyway? So my mom said, they probably wouldn't listen to me if I went in there and told them I thought I had a fluid build-up problem, and that they look at everything by the facts and not what the people come in claiming to have. So I never said anything. But now I'm going to. I'm just going to tell them how much better I felt after the lumbar puncture, hopefully avoid another one, and hope they start looking in that direction. I know the west nile is all gone and all my blood has now are antibodies. I really don't think that ever was the main issue. How could it be? They say only young and old folks get it, and sickly people, which I'm not.
Now the smoke detector is wrapped up in a fur coat in the hall closet because neither one of us can make it be quiet. My mom called the apartment maintenance man and he said it's the battery, but it's not. There is no battery. Well there is, but it's trapped up in there under all these wires. My mom says that's the "backup battery" and that this is an electrical smoke detector. We both tried getting the battery out but they've made it impossible to do so. My mom says SHITTIN' TOMATOES! when she's frustrated. She said that the first time I ever drove a car. I was 14 and she made me go on a "driving lesson" which I was terrified of. My first time behind the wheel and I mess up already. I got the accelerator pedal mixed up with the brake, which is common of course, but that's all I heard, SHITTIN TOMATOES, Amy!!!
I also had to pull over to the side of the road every time a car approached on the other side. She laughed at me. She said, "Amy this happens every day, all over the world. Cars pass each other and nobody gets hurt." I still don't believe her. I think it's only a matter of time before we all get hurt in a wreck. Cars are rolling metal boxes on wheels and you risk your very life every time you get behind the wheel. I say I like fast cars but that's just because I like the look of them. I really don't want to go fast in one. I'm done with going fast, in every area of my life. I don't want to be rushed ever again. I want to take my time and go at my own pace from here on out.
My life is not going to be a struggle, ever again.
.. About the caller ID. I do not answer any call unless I know for a fact who it is, and maybe not even then. So leave a message because names never show up. And I'm not one of those curious people who are like, "Oh, whoever could that be? Let's call them and find out." As if. The only reason I have a cell phone is because my mom insisted. (I threw my other one into the dumpster when I first came out here.) (disassembled it first..broke it in half. Battery went in one trash, bottom part of the phone went in another, top part went onto the road. Like a serial killer.) Destroying and trashing objects is very good therapy and if you think it sounds nutty, I ask you to try it. Just once. Look around the room, is there any object that you have one bad memory with? It could be furniture, or an article of clothing, or something in the kitchen. Anything. Now stop and think about it. Why should that object have a say in how you feel? Are you going to stand for this? Are you going to let some inanimate object have power over you? Don't be fooled by sentiment. So what if it's been in the family for a century. Listen. Take it out back and set fire to it. Stand back and watch it burn. As the smoke rises, let your feelings that are associated with it go up as well. Release. Breathe. Let go. Another method is breaking. This works well with glass items. Put it into a plastic bag first, tie it up, then smash it hard on the kitchen floor. My method of preference is simply the dumpster. The dumpster is my new Goodwill trailer. I've stopped taking items altogether to the trailer, and just donate them into the trash. If you think about it, this is the most considerate way to get rid of something, because whoever owns it next will get it for free.
Parting with objects is good for you and once you start it will be hard to go back to your old way of life.
I own almost nothing at this point in time.
I have two pairs of flip-flops, a few pairs of jeans, one pair of shorts and a few T's. All else has been trashed. How on earth could I hold on to ANYTHING during this time in my life? Would YOU save a shirt you were wearing on the day you had to leave work and be picked up by your mother and taken to the ER because you thought you were losing your mind? Would YOU hold on to the jeans you wore on the day you got a lumbar puncture? I doubt it. I am now looking at several boxes in my closet that contain all my kitchen items, lovingly packed by my mother when I had to move. I was going to leave it all behind but she said I'd need it all again one day. I just don't want these things. I want so bad to make some trips to the dumpster tonight. Yes I know I'll need kitchen things again, but I want to start fresh.
Now my mom is at war with the smoke alarm, it's chirping and neither one of us can get it to shut up. And it screams at you when you try to take it down. See? Everything on this planet is a wearisome burden and hindrance. Everything. Objects = being weighed down = depression. Now do you understand? If you don't I'll be happy to explain in further detail.
I found out that my brother in law knows about Cowboy Harry. I don't want to know how he knows. He just mentioned it and was laughing. I was hoping to stay under the radar with that one but I think my family is starting to catch on to what exactly I've been up to for the past few months. What will become of me?
now, in addition to everything else, I am the proud owner of a PUBA. (puffy upper butt area.) It's just not right. After gaining a little and doing nothing but sitting around), it's back to normal. And now this. Maybe this is maybe it was there all along, and it's just surrounding puff is gone? weight from those seizure meds (that finally all come off, I'm just about why I never noticed it before? Like, now standing out because the
Which way will I go on this? Get all self-conscious? Or, name it and own it? Show it off? I could go either way.
It is so hard to be a woman. Defined by our bodies. Well, not really. But if you want to keep up, you have to take all that into consideration. I'm not shallow but I do care. I always will. I cannot let myself go. I'll never be a buxom blonde that makes men drool all over themself, however, I do carry my own personal charm, even if it does emit from a figure that sometimes resembles a 12 year old boy.
So what if I don't have a lot of shape (where it counts.) I make up for it. Somehow.
In junior high, I stuffed my bra. All it took was a few cotton balls in each one, and bam! It was a dramatic difference. But I like myself just how I am, other than the fact that I seem to carry all my fat in my thighs. Other than that, I feel pretty good about myself for an almost 38 year old with a PUBA.
Everybody has SOMETHING. You have to. If you don't, it's not right. You have to have something that you are embarrassed about but then you say to heck with it and then you show it off.
I think I'm just trying to cope with the fact that I have just discovered this place on my back that looks like I rolled over onto a kiwi and it got embedded in there. You know how you see those stories in the tabloids of people (really huge people) rolling onto things like pork chops in their sleep, and it gets embedded in there, only to be discovered by xray years later? This is what it looks like. What I want to know is, is it fluid in my skin? Covering what? What are they seeing in my spinal column? What exactly IS inflammation? That is such a general term, it could be used on anything. What does it mean? Swelling? Redness? And then...there's the whole bone loss thing going on. Another thing I have conveniently mentally blocked out. Are these things related? WHAT THE HECK IS HAPPENING IN MY SPINE?????
And how will they get rid of the puff? And will it be an ongoing thing? Or can they make it go away for good?
If I have to have surgery, even if it's something trivial, everybody is going to suffer along with me. I will not experience this alone. ..
(Oct 1, 2007) I've now officially told the entire world where I've been. Sort of finding it difficult to tell you where I'm going, though. I'm stalling. Just hanging out here on this page, knowing it's time to close down shop, yet goofing off and not really wanting to make a real break.
Because when I do, when I lay this computer down for good, that will be it. Oh, no, don't doubt me. I said the same thing to my coworker on my last day at work. She said, "Amy it's all going to be ok, you're going to get checked out and everything is going to be just fine, then you're going to come back in a few days and it's all going to be ok." I told her, and I knew, just like I know now, I said, "No, you don't understand. If I leave here today, if I go in there and clock out, I am never coming back." And the same goes for this, right here and now. I'm at the end.
During this time the impossible has been accomplished. I got the help I needed, in more ways than one. "I am healing you"...could it have been, emotional healing?
God knows I never would have gotten anywhere in somebody's office. There is nothing another human being, no matter how qualified, could have done for me. I needed to be in control and say it all and get it all out on my own, at my own pace, saying what I wanted and when I wanted. He knows that. And so He granted me this time. And gave me people to hear me. What more could I have asked for?
Where I'm going.
How much should I say? Some of it is just too precious to speak of. Some of it has been slowly shown to me over time. That's how He is with me. He shows me big things really gently.
I can tell you this. I am going to have a family once more. And not only that, but... well, how can I say it?
I am going to leave you with this. You can figure it out, if you want.
My brother in law took me to get Ozone therapy done a few months ago, right? To knock out whatever remained of the west nile. It worked. But~ well.... me with. me hints cause He God has shown me something about my life, something He is going to bless It's a big thing (for me at least) and He's been gentle about it, showing and clues here and there, but He never came out and said it straight up knew it would make me freak.
Until now. He told me straight-up about something He's going to do.
I'll put it this way: I just found out about one of the benefits of Ozone therapy. You know what it does??
In addition to everything else, it breaks down scar tissue.
And that's all I am going to say. :)
Goodbye, blogging. I have to say goodbye now. For real. It's time to be quiet. It's time to be still and it's time to listen.
Oh, where am I going? Wouldn't you like to know!
Love, Amy. wait! and then there's this one... About 8 or 9 months ago I saw this: A bottle of champagne dropped into a pale blue laundry hamper, among folded towels & clothes, to be hidden in there. Smuggled? When I saw this I heard God say in my spirit: "I have hidden your celebration in the folds of time."
smuggled champagne? Who would do that and why? And why a laundry hamper????
About 5 months ago I heard this:
"You have touched many lives, Amy, and now I am going to touch yours. Be still and know that I am God."
well....He's touching my life alright...I can only wonder, what is going to happen? What's next? ... Who knows?
~ hospital things (Sep 30, 2007) Well, several things on the plate right now, which one do you want first? The fact that I smell like Playdough right now, or all the things I've been shown that have to do with the hospital?
About the Playdough, it's because of this lotion from Bath & Bodyworks, it LOOKS good but it's NOT. It's the Rice Flower & Shea. At first you think it makes you smell like vanilla, then come to find out, you smell like a toddler. It's starting to give me a headache. But at least I noticed today how long my hair is getting, it's now at my shoulders. And I have decided to NEVER cut it again. I think I've made it this long without cutting it because there's been nobody to make me mad. I have noticed something, though. Some more gray hairs. It's true. My first one appeared from out of nowhere one day in '99, then it's been a slow and steady stream ever since. I pluck them as soon as I see them, and the funny thing is, they all seem to be on the right side. So far I think I've had about 18.
You know, I've discovered something during this time. I can talk about things, including the things God shows me, and the world keeps spinning and nobody comes to take me away. I am starting to realize, it's all ok.
Before all of this happened, I saw several things that gave me some clues that I might be doing time in the hospital, but after reporting them all to my loving mother, she did a lot of praying and so did I, and since I've gotten all better I have been thinking, God is like, "Nevermind!"
So I am going to go ahead and tell you what all I saw.
The first one was in ...no, wait...let me back up. Let me start out with the fact that I used to be obsessed with the concept of the hospital and doctors and nurses and shots as a child, and this was before I ever had any surgeries or anything. I remember always having the hospital on my mind. Then came the surgeries, and it was like, "of course"...and I am beginning to get suspicious, that there was more in store for me that I've been spared from, or, (gulp)...well I'll just tell what I saw.
The first one was in the spring of '06, I was laying on the couch, fully awake, and I saw this: I was in a room, in a bed, laying flat on my back, unable to communicate, and people coming through a curtain and bringing flowers. When I first saw this one I told my coworker/friend, and she thought it sounded like somebody in a coffin. I said no, I was aware. So we both decided this was a hospital situation. I should also mention, there seemed to be something around my head, like, darkness around my head and only a small opening from which to see through. And I wasn't even "seeing" with my eyes. I was just aware. ??
Then, I started having more like this, after I came out here and I knew there was something wrong. So needless to say I was freaked and afraid. I saw this: the same coworker/friend and my mother standing on either side of me, I was in a hospital bed, and they were holding hands and praying for me. One on each side. Wait....they were not holding hands. They each had their hands on my head, one on each side. The friend stood on my left side and my mom was on my right.
Then I saw a brief picture of me, extremely thin and very short hair! But happy and determined and sort of limping but it was a good thing, as if, I was fully recovering from something. But the hair~ it was as if I had it shaved and it was starting to grow back.
This is the scariest one of all. I saw myself, laying flat out on a silver table, in a big room, like an operating room. I was alone in there and I was unconscious.
This one really bothered me.
Then, all this time has passed, and I hear in my spirit "I am healing you". So....I take that to mean that all is well. So I am thinking, were these things going to happen but were all prayed away?
I don't go around sharing these because I know full well what normal people think, they say, she is nuts. She is imagining all of this. Well, let me tell you, when God shows me these things, they are valid and they come to pass. I know the difference between my own thoughts, my own imagination, and my own dreams. But these things, these are an entirely separate deal, and I know what I am talking about.
Why am I posting these here tonight? I don't know. Maybe because of how happy I've been feeling these past few days, all empty and free. So that makes me think, maybe I can keep talking? And there can be no limit to my honesty? And I will feel BETTER and not worse when I let things out?
Anyway. I am hoping all the medical stuff is over with. I woke up today around 3:15 in the afternoon after a long hard night of blogging, and lo and behold, there is a feast in the fridge, just for me! My mother came into the kitchen and said, "all that is for you, Amy! I went to Whole Foods this morning. You have Autumn Couscous, Sweet & Sour Meatballs, Mediterranean Risotto Cakes, and Spicy Roasted Eggplant Salad." So I loaded up a plate with a smattering of each, made my tea, and quickly made it back into my room. I have to eat by myself. Otherwise I'd have to carry on a conversation. She's got her music on again and has been doing her nails a lot. Today is my brother's birthday, I think he would have been 27. But I noticed the calendar has already been turned to October, in fact it was like that yesterday. I think she's finally catching on. Just skip over stuff, don't dwell there.
My PUBA is still there, no change. What is it doing? Just hanging out? Like a baby monkey on it's mamma's back?
~ (march 08)
For some reason I'm thinking about the Sunglass People tonight. I mentally named them that. They were customers that came into the vitamin store I was working at back in '01. All I know is, I was minding my own business, when this big fat motorcycle pulls up and this couple, all leatherbound and wearing dark sunglasses walked into the store. It was hillarious. Because for one thing, they looked like they were in their late 40's, which is fine, but the problem was mainly with the woman. She was really tall, really fake blonde, really busty and really tan. Every bit of her was somehow squeezed and squished up into this black leather getup she had on, including really high, spike-heeled black boots. And it wasn't even a weekend. The store I worked at was right by Addison, a small city filled to the brim with middle-aged Harley riders. It's a real phenomenon. Anyway the man didn't phase me at all, but the woman.... this is why she was hillarious. This is what she did. I was running the store alone, so it was all me, of course. I always had to handle the freaks alone. They entered into the store, the man went about his business and started looking around, but the woman... she (sunglasses still on, I couldn't see her eyes) strolls on over to me, and she didn't stop, she walked right up until I thought her chest was going to bump into my head. (I'm 5"3.) So imagine, this tall woman who thinks she's the Terminator or something, not saying a word, not even a smile, just slowly approached me as if she was going to grab me by the throat. But no. You see, my Freak Tolerance Level was already at record levels due to working at that place, so I didn't put up with anything. I just stood there as she walked towards me. I know enough about body language to know, the normal thing for me to do at that point was to take a few steps back. I think that's what she was going for. But little did she know, when you're on my turf, I win, no matter how short I am. So I stood there, until she was right up in my face, looking down on me, just inches from me, hovering, not unlike a cobra staring down a chicken with a broken wing. I looked at her and she looked at me. I started laughing. She continued to stare at me. Finally (without moving back) I said, What can I help you with? She just stood there in silence, staring at me. Finally she spoke. She remained in the same place, hardly moving, and said, It looks like you have a good selection here. I thought to myself, where's the hidden camera? Is this a joke? I laughed and started telling her all about our best products, BUT! I didn't look at her face when I did. I looked off to the side, knowing it was bugging her. It was my plot to get her to take off her shades. It worked. After a few minutes, she took a few steps backwards and removed her shades. Turned out it was a real live woman under there! Not only that, but she started asking me questions and we actually ended up having a pleasant conversation. They were in town for some concert. I guess they just needed to make a quick pit-stop to intimidate a hapless local. My point is, after working retail since the age of 18, I have zero tolerance for people who wear shades in the store. Dark ones, that is. The kind that completely hide the eyes. And they come in and expect me to look them in the eye. I refuse. The bottom line: If I can't see you, you won't see me. I look off to the side, invent some imaginary focal point, until it drives them nuts and they take them off. I'm small, but I deserve the same amount of equality and respect as anyone else. At least the people who wear dark glasses in the store aren't as bad as the Woman Who Carried Her Poop Around In A Pickle Jar. But that's another blog. And she went around showing it to people! I'm not kidding.
~ (September 07) Back when I thought the only worthy outlet for my stuff was a canvas & some paint, I gave it my all and threw the color around in a mad fury of raw passion and emotion. Then, come to find out, there were other ways for me to get it out.
Then I discovered how much fun it is to throw words around, and even at people. Sesame Street was right all along, words ARE fun. They can be used for comfort and encouragement, and they can be used as weapons. They can tell truth and they can be shady. With words, I have been good, and I have been bad. But I've already told you that so I don't need to confess anymore.
But what I'm thinking now is, what am I not aware of, this time around? I used to think that art was the final frontier, then come to find out, writing is even better. So now what? I'm not going to limit myself again and say, "that's it, this is what I'm going to do, forever." I can't. Already I'm looking around me, thinking, what am I missing? What am I overlooking? What else is there for me? See? This is why I keep trying to get away from the computer. I just don't want to get locked into anything and miss a bigger picture. I'm assuming there is one. There has to be. Think about it, say bombs fall tomorrow and all the lights go out, what will I do? Sit in a dark corner and talk to myself? So this tells me, words are just one more thing to move through and past.
Ok. Another thing is, I'm already wanting to delete again, so if I do need to lock myself out of here, I'll post the new site up first before I do. Although it has been fun doing it the other way all this time. I have created the best matrix ever. And it's growing. And when I'm back to work and all that, and have a normal life again, I am going to laugh at what I did. At first I thought I'd regret it, but no, I think it's so absolutely ridiculous, it's wonderful. I might have to end up changing my name, though. I just heard that prospective employees are getting googled now, is this true? If so, whatever will become of me? .. I guess I was about 10 years old, spending the night at my friend's house. She had a younger sister, the sweetest and kindest human being ever, she had Down Syndrome. On this particular night, all three of us slept in one big bed. At this point in time, I still wet the bed. And the unthinkable happened on this night. Yes, it happened. I wet the bed that night. Only one of my friends knew about this little problem, and that was Michelle. She was cool. She even asked me if I "took my pretty pill" each night.
Oh, you mean I've never told you about my Pretty Pills? It's a prescription I had as a kid, these tiny little pills, you took one each night and supposedly it was supposed to dry you up. Never worked for me. I'll tell you what did work, though. When my parents finally cracked down and bought one of those diabolical electrical pads. You fall asleep. You drift off into a sweet dream. You pee. And then you are frightened out of your ever-lovin mind by the loudest noise imaginable, making you leap to your feet and run all around the room trying to figure out how to make it be quiet, but you can't figure it out because you're only 10 years old and still half-asleep. And what's worse is the entire household can hear it and probably the neighbors as well. So basically it's an alarm that informs the entire world that you have just wet the bed. I am even going to go so far as to tell you what it was called. It came from the Sears catalog. It was called.... The Wee Alert.
Well let me tell you what. A few go-rounds with that thing and I was cured. I think my dad asked why we didn't do that a long time ago. Just knowing that he knew, that the siren was telling on me, was enough. I shudder at the thought of it, even now.
But back to this night I spent with my other friend, with the sweet little sister. The sister had slept between us that night. I woke up and realized that I had wet the bed. This could not be happening, no, see, her brother was in my class. This just cannot be made public. And here is my confession, here is how I handled this situation:
The little sister was still sound asleep. I traded places with her. She didn't know it, though. I just sort of moved her over, sort of rolled her, into my place, and took hers. I did this. To a child with Down Syndrome.
An hour or two passed, and we all woke up. My friend said, "what's that smell?" I sat up and agreed, what WAS that smell? The little sister felt all around her and I hope I am making this up, I hope this didn't happen, but I want to say she started crying, out of shame. She was busted, peeing in the bed. My friend commented on it and said only babies do that, and I agreed.
Is this really all that bad? Oh, wait, I forgot to finish telling you about my Pretty Pills. That's what my mom called them, to make me feel better. It all started one night when my friend was spending the night, and the friend walked into the kitchen and busted me taking my nightime pill. She asked what it was and I got all red in the face, that's when my
mom came to my rescue and said, "Those are Amy's Pretty Pills. She takes one every night, and they keep her pretty." Or something like that. I didn't know it at the time, but as she said it, she was winking, and I found out years later that my friend knew my secret all along. ..
Somewhere along the way, I stopped believing everything I was told. And then I got to where everything was untrue until proven true. Now I go out of my way to sniff out a lie. Looking back, I see a few instances where my trust was compromised, I think that's what got the ball rolling. When I was little, my friend Michelle & I would have "dance contests" in my room. We'd put on a disco album and then proceed to break it down right there, on the golden shag carpet of my room, and we'd critique the other and offer appropriate praise and correction. It was fun, but a very serious thing. 1977 was the year of High Disco, and if one could not master the Hustle, one was a loser indeed. I was 8 years old but I already had the dancing skills of a pro. My mom would practically BEG to sit in on one of our sessions, but she was not allowed into my room. I shut the door and taped a "do not enter" sign on it. I even went out of my way to inform her ahead of time, "Mommy, Michelle & I are going to have a dance contest, please do not come in." She politely nodded her head but I always knew she was dying to watch. I kept my eye on her. Sure enough, my suspicions came true. One day, in the middle of a contest, I was tearing it up, when I saw it. I saw, from the corner of my eye, a HAND on my closet door. No body, just a HAND. I reached over and flung open my closet and THERE SHE WAS, my MOTHER. Watching! I was FURIOUS. She had betrayed me. She started apologizing profusely, saying it was the only way she could see one of our contests. I glanced over at Michelle, who was laughing. She had been in on it! The whole thing was pre-arranged! A set-up! A plot! I was framed. I was betrayed. I was humiliated.
During that same time, I was at Michelle's house, a house that had 4 really cute boys there. 4 brothers, that's what she had. All older than us, all with bellbottom jeans and feathered long hair. It was all too much. Those boys were it, and it was a real treat to be in their presence. The youngest brother David was just a year older, and I had a terrible crush on him. One day, as I walked up on to the front porch to visit Michelle, David was sitting there with his friend and they were laughing. There was a small lamp beside them, and it was plugged in. I heard the friend whisper something, then David said to me, "Hey Amy, come here! Come touch this lamp, right here..." More laughing from them. I thought maybe it was warm? All I knew was, it was David talking. He could have asked me to jump into traffic and I might have. So I go over to the lamp and touch the spot that they pointed to, and then proceeded to receive the shock of my lifetime, it zapped my finger and my hand and ran up my arm. I jumped back and screamed. The boys laughed. I acted like it was nothing, but when I got home I cried. How could David have done that to me?
And then there was my other neighbor, Jonathan. They moved from Oak Cliff and had a home built in Red Oak, and we went over there to see how it was coming along. Jonathan grabbed a piece of pink fuzzy stuff and said, "Hey Amy, this is the softest stuff in the world, let me see your arm...." So I held out my arm, and he rubbed this pink fuzzy stuff into my arm. It was fiberglass. Yes, my trust for boys was seriously downgraded several points that day. I was starting to see a pattern.
By the time I was 11 years old, I had the whole world all figured out. By this time, I knew to be on the lookout for all things tricky and shady. I was still in Catholic school, and it was now time for Confirmation. That's when all the 5th graders basically sign their soul over. We had been preparing for it for months, learning all about the procedure. You picked a patron saint for the thing. This alone creeped me out. I was supposed to select a dead person to accompany me in a church ceremony, to float by my side as I promised the Catholic church that I would be a member forever and ever? Everyone in my family was confirmed, all my aunts and uncles and grandparents and my big sister. This church and school was like a family thing, it was St. Elizabeth's in Oak Cliff. All my dad's family had gone there too, back in the day, in fact my grandfather was one of the main engineers in designing the school. It was a big deal. Yay Catholic! So anyway, the time had come to get confirmed. But I had questions and nobody seemed to be able to give me a straight answer: Why is this necessary? What exactly am I promising? What does this mean? Come to find out, when you are confirmed, you are saying, "I am committing myself to the Catholic church, for life." So one day, just weeks before the ceremony, I decided that I would NOT in fact promise ANYBODY my perpetual attendance, ANYWHERE. I saw right through it. This was a building, a man-made institution. This was not a pure representation of MY God. This I knew. I still didn't know God at all, but I knew He was not what these folks portrayed Him to be. And to think I'd been there all my life, AND attended the school there, going to Mass every Friday AND Sunday. And they still were not able to lure me into the machine. Ha! So I announced to my teacher that I was not going to that I go home and tell my parents. So I go home and have decided not to get confirmed. My parents looked didn't care so much, it was more like, what will the get confirmed. She advised announce to my parents that I at each other. I think they grandparents think? Or say?
I don't know how it was all worked out, nor do I care. All I know is, I didn't do it. I was the only 5th grader that year not to be confirmed. It was a non-issue to me. I just made up my mind, and that was that.
You just have to be on the lookout for tricks and schemes in this world. Don't dance without first checking the closet, don't touch a lamp that's situated between two laughing boys, not everything that looks soft IS soft and by all means don't find out whether or not it's really soft by rubbing it into your skin, and last but not least ALWAYS keep an eye out for false doctrine and make no promises to anyone.
I am against the world with all my heart and that will never change.
love, A. on emails. ok. I have gone through so many emails lately it's not even funny. Used to, when I'd change my email, I'd never tell anyone, and just let them wonder. I used to close my emails but now I change the password to something I can't remember, I've had to keep them going because each myspace has it's own one. What was I saying? That I just thought I'd do the right thing and start telling people when it's been changed. As of today, I'm on a whole new one, and all other emails are null and void, still in operation but I am locked out. I also changed my email that's on my last profile. But the one on here is good and I promise to keep it open. Should I explain? Do I owe explanations? Well, maybe I should. Do you people know that I am INCAPABLE of not having the last word? Do you know that when somebody has a problem with something I've said, or, they just want to get into it, or, they want to defend themselves and I know they're full of it, or, some jerk is trying to sweet talk me, or whatever, I find it impossible to just be mature and talk about it then leave it alone. I can't. I have to turn the thing around and around and examine it from every angle and debate every point and go out of my way to show them that they are wrong. But it's hard to do this and at the same time stand my ground and not lay it all down and listen to them. See, when it comes to arguments, you can't win. But when it comes to people being nice to me and calming me down, I'm a real sucker for that, and next thing you know I'm forgetting that I was ever mad, and then I end up making a fool of myself all over again. Now do you see? See why the wise thing to do, in my case, is change emails without saying anything? This way, they send one, and they think I simply read it and agreed, and that they had the last word, and they move on and everything is fine and I come out looking like the mature one who let it be. When the truth is I never read it. I am a genius if there ever was one. Punks.
Have you ever been to Lake Waxahachie & seen that island thing, sitting out sort of off in the distance? Well, I had always wanted to swim out to it, but never had the guts to try, until one day in 1988. I decided it would be the perfect day to do it, and talked the guy I was with into doing it with me. Everything went just fine until we started to drown. He went under first and started flailing all around, couldn't breathe and couldn't keep his head above the water. Turns out he had asthma, who knew? I freaked out and didn't know what to do, we were way out in the middle of the lake, no life jackets and I guess no common sense either, and the island thing was still pretty far away. I didn't know what to do, he was yelling and everything, asking for help, so I swam over to him to try to help him, and that's when he tackled me as if I were a life raft or something, just about climbed on top of me, he was holding on to me, and I started to go under. That's when I started to panic and there we were, in the middle of the lake, both unable to catch our breath, both going under, until, the THING happened: from out of nowhere, I was LIFTED UP by some unseen force, I was given strength from out of the blue, not only was I now able to keep myself afloat and treading water, but I
also had the strength to carry HIM, I lifted him up and he held on to me as I swam us all the way back to the shore, where he crawled up on it and started spitting and heaving, and then proceeded to vomit on the sand. I just sat there with wide eyes. That's usually what I do in circumstances such as this. He ended up thanking me but in my opinion it's the very least I could do for him, all things considered. I didn't know it at the time but I was pregnant, by him.
... A little over a month ago, I had (one of many) a profile on myspace. Just goofing off, enjoying talking with my daughter's friends. I love teenagers. Anyway, one night, I was woken up around 3 am, just out of the blue, to pray. You know what God showed me? How to do my page. I saw rainbow-swirl background, pot leaves, bongs. And I saw that He wanted me to write all about drug use. I was...shocked. And amused. He wanted me to make it fun and entertaining, for the kids! How cool is that? I even put that song on there by Musical Youth, "pass the dutchie", from the 70's. I was cracking up the whole time as I put the whole thing together. And then when I was all ready, I started to write. I went blank. I told God, "what on earth am I supposed to say?" The following is what came out of me. The first part is my writing, then the last paragraph I borrowed from another site (lionofzion.com)
Now here's the thing. Here's the thing that blows me away. I created the page, and I had it up for a few days. Then, I started to get all self-conscious, like I always do. Because I was wondering what her friends were thinking, will they still think I was the cool mommy? (hey I cherish my cool mommy status. don't laugh.) So, I chickened out, and changed the page after a few days, put it back to whatever. Took the rainbow background down, took the drug article down. Took the bong cursor down. (yes I had a bong cursor.) Get this~ after changing it, about a day passed. I thought, I obeyed God, I had it up for a while, I did what I was supposed to do. Anyway, I put it back to however I wanted it, and was just goofing off, when.....and I kid you not....out of the blue, just like that, the page PUT ITSELF BACK TO HOW GOD WANTED IT. I am not kidding. In an instant, it was all back. The background, the pot leaves, the bong cursor, and my article on weed and why it is wrong. He put it back. I sat there, stunned. I was afraid to move. I was like, um...God? Ok. I knew that I was wrong to up and change something that He woke me up at 3 am to do. So, I changed my password (with my eyes closed) and locked myself out of there. The page remains, intact, like He wanted it. It makes my heart beat fast to look at it, to be honest, it scares me.
I have gotten some good reports on it. I have heard that it has been a real blessing to one teen in particular. But to tell you the truth, I really don't want to know who has read it. I just step back from it and trust God. Here's the stuff I wrote. Maybe you know a teen who might benefit from it? If you do, please pass it on, and tell them how much God loves them!
Let's talk about drugs, shall we? Who here enjoys a little smoke now & then? Who here lights up on a daily basis? Who here believes that it's harmless? People, weed may be "natural", but that does not mean that it was created to be smoked in order to produce a mental high. Oh, what do I know about drugs? (And yes, marijuana IS a drug...) Well, let's just say that I have done everything short of putting a needle in my arm, and that's only because of my fear of needles. I know where you're at, peeps. I've done it all. Tripped acid. Snorted cocaine. shrooms, hash, ecsatasy, crank, and lots and lots of weed. And whatever else was passed to me, I didn't care. So listen to me, people. I know the need to escape, ok? And I'm not here to preach. I'm here to share some truth with you. Because I care. First off, let me tell you about my little brother. New Year's Eve, 1997. The wreck that had I-35 backed up for miles and miles. He was 17 years old. He was killed when the Jeep Cherokee he was driving flipped over, throwing him out the window. He was crushed. The Jeep flipped as a result of he and his friend attempting to switch places, while they were driving. How idiotic, right? Well, that's pretty much how Joe was towards the end. Before he got into drugs, he was a brilliant, hillarious, friendly, social, and athletic guy. Everybody loved Joe. Then, around the age of 16, he started to smoke a little weed. Just a little. But, as usual, this evolved, ever so slowly, into other things. By the time Joe died, he was taking horse tranquilizers mixed with Vodka. He turned
into a total idiot. People, do you understand how weed works? It may be true that it's not physically addictive, but it affects the inhibition area of the brain, well duh, that's why it makes you feel so relaxed. Listen. Guard your brain. Protect your mind. Weed DOES kill off brain cells. Stop and think about it. WHY would you want to do that? Why? Do you people even realize how PRECIOUS your mind is? I am just recovering from a 7month stint with west nile virus. It went straight to my brain. For months I could not think straight, I had virtually NO shortterm memory, no desire to do anything, no determination, no drive, no motivation, and no joy. I know what it is to have a mind that does not work, and now, I will never take my brain for granted, ever again. Your mind is a beautiful thing, ya'll. It's a miracle, and here we stupid humans are, polluting it and messing it up. WEED IS NOT HARMLESS. That is a LIE. It will pull you in deeper....and it does not stop there. You guys all know that I am a die-hard Christian. I want to tell you that using any substance that interferes with the normal processes of the mind is, in the eyes of God, a form of witchcraft. Yeah, you heard that right. He calls it "an abomination" and "detestable". Why? Because you are screwing with the dark side when you use drugs. People, it goes beyond the physical. When you use drugs, you are opening your mind to a whole different dimension. Imagine opening a forbidden door in your mind. That's exactly what's happening. It's a doorway and it allows the enemy access to your mind. People, I have seen things you would not believe. I have seen demons, and so did my brother. I will leave you with this story, something Joe told me before he died. He came over to my house one evening, really messed up and really frightened. He
described to me something that had just happened to him. He was getting stoned out of his mind, as usual, laying on the hood of a car with his friend. And then he had this incredible experience: He found himself outside of his body, and standing in the presence of Jesus. The Lord said to Joe, "Why are you doing this to yourself, Joe?" He pointed to the car, and Joe looked, and saw his body, it appeared dead! His friend was beside him, panicking and trying to revive him. Again, Jesus asked, "Why are you doing this, Joe?" Then, a second later, Joe was back inside his body, and his friend said, "Dude, I thought you were dead!!" It turns out, what Joe saw on the hood really took place. No, this was not a hallucination. This was a true spiritual encounter. It happens. People, we are not meant to pollute our minds and our bodies. You were lovingly created, and for a purpose! Don't subdue yourself, don't allow yourself to believe the lie. We are lied to. We are told that it's all ok, that it's good for you to just lie back and chill. Just chill your way thru life. Listen, it's BETTER to be awake. It's BETTER to feel. It may be harder, but it's worth it. You are SO LOVED. You are SO VALUED. You are CHERISHED by God! So stop with the smoke already! It ain't worth it. It's dangerous. love you. ?
WHO CONTROLS YOU? The thief (Satan) cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I (Jesus) am come that they may have life and that they might have it more abundantly." John 10:10 ......the following info is taken from http://www.lionofzion.com/ The most common argument within the church against any sort of use of marijuana is the
"Pharmakeia argument". Although this argument can be heard in almost any church, it is hard to recognize in a casual Bible reading. In order to come to the conclusion of the Pharmakeia argument one needs to study the original Koinne Greek Bible text. Pharmakeia is a Greek word found in the New Testament that means medication, pharmacy, magic, sorcery and witchcraft. Its root is pharmakon which refers to a druggist, pharmacist, poisoner, magician or sorcerer. God clearly states that Pharmakeia (the use of drugs) is a sin in Galatians 5:1920a; "The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft" (Pharmakeia). Most people are shocked when they learn that this verse refers to drug use. Contrary to popular belief, marijuana is not a new drug. In fact, just recently marijuana ashes were found in a fourth-century tomb. The drug was believed to have been smoked by a pregnant teenager sixteen hundred years ago. Some documentations of marijuana use date back as far as the nineteenth century B.C. The popularity and use of marijuana has increased within the past few years. This pattern of today's intensified drug use was prophesied almost two thousand years ago in the book of Revelation. There are three passages in this book that speak directly about Pharmakeia, Revelation 9:21; 21:8; and 22:15....We conclude that God is very serious about how he deals with this sin. Marijuana is a hallucinogenic (Funk and Wagnalls 445). This is one of the reasons why using it is sorcery and witchcraft. With the use of drugs, you are opening yourself up to all sorts of spiritual attacks and seducing spirits. Mind altering drugs are used in witchcraft to alter your reality. This can be very
dangerous. This is why God calls us to be sober and avoid attacks from Satan (I Peter 5:8). This implies that if we are high, we cannot avoid attacks from the evil one. Marijuana is clearly a stronghold that Satan has used on this world for many generations. God can deliver and heal one from an addiction to marijuana. The truth can be found only through faithfully studying the word of God. "The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever." (Isaiah 40:8) ...
So, how many times have I told this one now? 5 million times? I guess it's still not enough. Well, anyway, I think this site is my final stop, so this should be the last time. At least in written form.
1987, I was 17. At a party, drunk, flirting with a guy in the kitchen. We started dancing, I told him I wanted to ballroom dance, that thing where you get rolled up and dipped. We were just about to do that, he even had his hand held out, and I was just about to take it, when... ...in walked three guys. Just stood there, in the kitchen, watching us. The guy I was with started talking with them for a bit, and I noticed that the one in the middle was holding a motorcycle helmet. He also smiled at me. These guys were cute. They looked older, but still all 80's looking- ripped jeans, big puffy headbanger hair, leather jackets. The one holding the helmet just looked at me, and still smiling, said, "you sure would look cute in this, here, put it on." He then put the helmet on my head, then his face changed from a smile to a look of concern as he adjusted the chin strap and made sure it was snug on my head. I laughed. Ok, whatever! The guys finished talking and left the kitchen, and the guy I was with said, "where were we?" I said, "you were about to roll me up and dip me!" So once more, he held out his hand. I took it, rolled up, then got the dip of a lifetime. He tripped, and sent me crashing, my head was slammed into the sharp corner of the kitchen table. All I remember is a loud "THUNK" and then I was on the floor, staring up at lots of people around me. They helped me up, and I was a little shook up, but not hurt. I looked around for the guys, and they weren't there. I asked the guy I was with who they were, and as it turns out, he didn't know them either! Nobody knew who they were. And they were gone. So. A helmet was delivered to my head, just seconds before what could have been a very bad thing. My left temple is all that broke my fall, and without that helmet, who knows what could have happened. I had just received Jesus Christ a few months earlier. Maybe not even that long. I was a brand new believer. I was still bad, hadn't yet been cleaned up by Him, but as it turns out, His grace is sufficient. I was only 17. This event set the pace
for me. That's how I thought God was, all the time. I was like, "ok, so He's full of surprises!" I had no room to doubt Him at all. Miracle after miracle came after that. One after the next. Anyway. So that's my helmet story. ... "Know My Word" Vision shown to me in '05: A terrified woman, standing inside her home, facing the front door, which was closed. On her face was sheer terror, as if sudden destruction was coming, and she was panicking. She held a can of black paint in one hand, and a brush in the other. She began to frantically apply huge strokes of black paint on either side and above the door, in an effort to gain some protection from the Lord. The vision "zoomed in" on her face, I felt her fear. She was desperate.
After praying about it, I understood that in the coming times, and even now, there will be many who scramble at the last minute to find favor and protection in the Lord, but their ignorance regarding His Word will be a disservice to them. The woman was attempting some form of Passover ritual, as if it were something that she had once heard about, but really didn't understand. As I watched her paint around the door, I thought to myself, where to begin? Passover was a one-time event, to begin with. Secondly, she was using paint instead of blood. Add to that the fact that she was painting the inside instead of the outside. I thought, she's got it wrong, all-around. Protection cannot be obtained through any ritual, it's by putting one's faith and trust in the Living God, and through the Blood of the Lamb, Jesus Christ. I heard the Lord say, "Know My Word." I felt deep compassion for the woman and I wanted to reach out to her and tell her this, but it was too late. She had no knowledge of His Word. Destruction was on it's way. I should also add this detail, that she appeared to be of African descent, with roots in voodoo, or just a combination of beliefs, a hodgepodge mixture. I learned about a year later that in some rituals, black paint is actually used, sometimes even on doorposts! Freaked me out, I had no idea. Religion and traditions and rituals mean nothing. There is nothing human beings can do to save themselves from the hand of God. His love for us knows no bounds, His love is free, and in His Word is life, wisdom, protection, and truth. His Word is worth more than any earthly treasure. It's the light on my path. It's solid. It's real.
some visions '05~'06 During this time it seems like I was flooded with visions, one after the next. Saw business men being devoured in water by crocodiles, saw their arms being eaten, saw crisp clean white shirts. Understood that this represents attack(s) on American economy and finances.
Saw teenagers walking together, in unison, through the streets, during what should have been school hours, singing and praising God, on a mission. Understood that God is raising up a mighty generation in the youth; do not underestimate. They were going places and witnessing and ministering, all on their own. Saw a dog, as in, somebody's pet, being cooked outdoors, to be eaten. Famine. Saw three Sanhedrin, Pharisees? Leaving the temple, leaving the city, approaching. Look of frustration upon their faces, disgruntled, not going to "put up" with all this Spirit nonsense. Understood that an increase in legalism comes against the church. Saw group of people on a boat, a fishing boat, going to a new land, fleeing destruction. They were on a fishing boat, they had to use whatever form of transportation was available. These were Christians, I understood that they were not afraid, they accepted loss and they looked with anticipation at what was to come, totally trusting in God. "Zoomed in" on a woman's face, she stood at the front of the boat, there was a look of sheer wonder on her face. They were leaving America, and they were in icy cold waters. Saw rows and rows of people behind bars, as if imprisoned, their arms reaching out from behind the bars, begging for release, desperate, crying out for deliverance. Heard the Lord say, "There are SO MANY to be set free."
Sep 18, 2007 Earlier this year, I had this dream: There was fire falling from the sky, it was being shown on a news broadcast. I saw huge masses of fire coming down, and I heard the reporter say that the date was Good Friday. Then, another announcer began speaking to me as I watched the fire coming down, but this was the Lord's announcer~ he said that the same fire that brings destruction to the earth will also at the same time be a holy annointing to those who put their trust in Him, a baptism, a refreshing & healing, cleansing and purifying fire.
I do know that in times to come, and even now, He is allowing certain events to take place that will shake us up, to shake from our grip things that are hindering our walk with Him, to shake us out of our apathy, to shake us from our earthly comforts and false sense of security. He is going to allow things to happen both
in our personal lives and on a larger scale that will really "rock our world." Our God is a Mighty God, a Loving God, and the same hand that allows destruction is the same hand that holds mercy and forgiveness and protection.
(december 08) Did you ever read those books as a kid where you can pick from a variety of endings? I've decided that's exactly how I'm going to end "my story" before moving on to my whole new "important stuff only and anonymous, at that" gig. As far as my personal life goes, you can just go ahead and select from the following: 1) the neuro calls today, tells me it's not "a mass" after all, come to find out it's one of those Brain Worms, and they flush cynaide in my ears till the worm escapes, boring a hole through my right temple and leaving me with a complete air hole that runs straight through my brain, in one temple and out the other, leaving me with the most perfect excuse ever as to why I will not listen to reason, seeing as how it literally goes in one ear and out the other. 2) the neuro calls today and says it's harmless, and prescribes me a good dose of steroids as I requested, which help me to steadily increase in energy, stamina, and strength over due time, and I grow lean and hard as a result, and find myself unwittingly attracted to female bodybuil wait 3) I get the call today that all's well, no treatment is needed, just get by the best I can, so I slowly grow calm, normal, and mature, join a church, meet that tall man who doesn't know who Elvis is, and we move to the woods and have 20 children, one after the next, bam bam bam, and I die old, happy, and all stretchy and saggy but full of peace and joy, or 4) they operate, take out the mass, and my shaved head never regrows the hair, and I accidentally sort of like it, and start making edgy videos like Sinead O'Connor, where I wear big boots and shout at the camera
I don't care how it all ends. What's my life anyway? What's your life? In the end, it's Jesus. It's all Jesus, man.
I just couldn't take it anymore. I can't deal with my flip-flop thing anymore.
It's not that I don't like my flip-flops anymore. It's just that my feet are cold. So my new boots are soft and tan and suede-looking, but they're not really suede because they were only $12.99. They're sort of Olive Oyl looking but it's ok. I would tuck my jeans in them like my kid and her friends do but I don't think I'm cool enough for that. Anyway how can I be cool when my socks say No Nonsense on them? Why do my socks say that? I didn't buy them. I guess they came from my mom's closet or something. It's a really good thing I'm still single at this point in time. There's just one too many things in my life right now to be embarrassed over, the socks being one of them. In a little while I go get my mouth stitches out. Who knows what fiasco this will lead to? Will one of the ends of the strings be found to have grown into my gums? And they have to extract it slowly, not unlike a tapeworm extraction? Have you seen that? There's a video on youtube of someone slowly pulling a live tapeworm straight out of a hole in his stomach. It about made me want to toss my cookies. I'm hoping after today I'll be able to eat normal food again. I'm going to ask him to please patch up the holes in my mouth so I can eat. I got some bread today. Good old bread. Bread and me, we go way back. Me and my bread. If I have to go any longer living on bread and protein powder I think I'm going to cry. Speaking of that, did I not give the fair warning that the mri dye makes me mean for a while? This is why, last night I went ahead and destroyed and trashed my microphone. To prevent me from taking my current tear any further. But no worries, I got a check for $25 from my grandmother yesterday. This weekend I will be putting it to good use on a new webcam. My hair is sort of cute right now so maybe I should take advantage of the situation. Guess what else. I have to wait till NEXT week to hear from my neurologist on the latest reports. Has to do with his rotation schedule thing. Guess what else. Today I woke up and thought about this for a while: I think I want to be a pastor's wife. For real. I think I would make a most excellent one. Think about it! I could speak out if I wanted but there'd really be no pressure to be consistent, seeing as how it would be HIS domain. Yes. I think I want to hide behind/stand beside a pastor/husband. Actually come to think of it I'm having a memoryI haven't thought of this in a long timeDid you listen to my ramble called the Sweaty Scary Man? The guy who claimed to be a mafia person? (http://alrightifigureditout.blogspot.com/2008/09/sweaty-scaryman-1.html) Well, when he was sitting there all drunk and rambling and slumped over, he looked at my face for a long time, then busted out with this: And I am not kidding: He goes, "You have thin lips. I'm not sure I trust a woman with thin lips. But you also have a warm heart. You are going to end up with someone VERY SPECIAL. You are going to marry a VERY SPECIAL MAN." And later that night after all was said and done, and I was happy to be home and him in jail, I laid there and pondered his words. Call me nutty but I sensed that he was really picking up on something. I sensed that he was really speaking a word to me. And someone else one time mentioned that I would nevermind So...
You found me here, in Worm Island? Are you on to me and my various m.o.'s? As you can see, I hide away here and It's like this is where I sit and write on my little journal, tear out a page, stick it in a large conch shell and I'm on a beach somewhere I'm spending the weekend and nephew and take them life, drink wine with my football, etc etc in the recesses of my mind. Where are you, in your head? at my older sister's, to hang out with my little neice on stroller walks, listen to my sister talk about her brother in law and listen to why I should appreciate
My betta is sulking for some unknown reason. The only thing different is that he has rocks in his tank from Glen Rose that I stole recently off a river bottom. I couldn't help it. They're shaped really nice, perfect for a fish to swim around. But I think I might have introduced some kind of foul bacteria into his life or something. He's not eating, not even his flakes. I cleaned his tank today and spent time with him but he's still acting weird. Maybe he's fasting. That's all. ..
(october 08) A few weeks ago when my brother-in-law was driving me home, the back seat where we were going, and they started talking the evening. My nephew got quiet and then said, "But Daddy, do about Amy?" He meant, was I coming with them or not. But responded, "Son- you have just asked the eternal question." my nephew asked from about the plans for what are we going to my brother-in-law
I don't know how to describe how I feel today. My hand is just halfway here. I can use it but I just can't feel everything. It feels light. And strange, when I make a fist. Very weird. I can feel it coming on again. It's coming. How long will it be with me this time? A week? 2 weeks? A month? I had a banana a few minutes ago and could hardly taste it. I can't sleep. The reason I can't sleep is because I want to sleep. So I'll have enough energy to walk around the fair all day tomorrow. So because I want to sleep, naturally this means I'll be up all night. I'm in a bad mood. Not so great for blogging but oh well. I have a chicken thing in the oven, one of the things that squirt hot juice at you when you try to cut into it. The breaded thing. My mom is spending another weekend at her boyfriend's house again. Actually, her fiancee. So the plan is, I'll have some help and be able to keep the apartment me & my mom have. I'm already on the lease. I didn't even know it. So I'll just be taking over. She's going to help me out financially until I can take it over all the way. She also said I'm more than welcome to go with her but she knows I'd never do that. But she told me yesterday her boyfriend said it would be no problem at all. I just can't do it. Unless of course I had to. What's my life come to? I'm enjoying little things more and more. I'm starting to feel like I did back in the day when I stayed home with Leah. I'm getting into more in-depth conversations
with my nephews and enjoying playing with them more. I'm letting go. I'm accepting. I'm grasping the reality of what I'm facing: I don't think my life will ever be the same again. My issues with my body are not going away. New things are happening. I feel like I'm on a downward slope, but it has little hills on it. I'm going up and down, but on a slide. Do you know what I mean? I had a good dream 2 nights ago. I saw a room inside a house, it was a room I had been searching for. It was like an atrium, the ceiling was one big sky light, and there was no carpet. Just dirt! Good dirt! And I got 4 corn plants and planted one in each corner. Then I took 2 large flat slabs of concrete and laid them down in the center of the room, to walk on. They didn't line up flush, you could see the broken edges. It looked like a broken road. I went outside to a garden and found some smooth river rocks, grabbed them, and brought them in, and scattered them on the dirt. I made my own special room. Just looking at it made me happy. The concrete slabs made me think of my own broken road that's led me to this point in time. I knew I was going to use this room to sit and think and pray. I think it represents finding my own home in my own head. Or something. My spirit is being all freed up right now. I realize I can't be freed from this. So I decided to be freed through it. I'm going to allow this situation to free me. I'm going to unravel and untie myself on more and more levels until I am the happiest and most relaxed camper on Planet Earth. I'm going to continue to share and report my findings. Don't worry. My betta made a bubble nest! This means he's wanting a mate. I feel bad. He's not getting one. I heard when they make a bubble nest they're happy with their home and wanting to start a family. I'm highly honored but I also heard they kill the female bettas. After they breed. And then they spend a long time guarding the eggs inside the bubble nest they made. The male makes it. I think that is so cute. If I were a fish I would totally live in his bubble nest. It's so cute, he made it right around the little live plant that's floating in the water. The bubbles stick together, all in a cluster. So tomorrow I'll either be on Stroller Duty or Wheelchair Duty. Troy's grampaw is coming too. I haven't been to the fair since '03. I went with my coworker, we were bookkeepers at a craft store (the one on Lovers & Mockingbird right next to a liquor store, we had bums sleeping in the bushes! Seriously! Right out front.) and that's the last time I ever got on a ride. I was on a spinning thing and it made me throw up. Rides never used to make me throw up. I guess it's a sign of old age. I rode with Troy & the boys up to Val's office today to pick her up and she wasn't done yet, so we all went in and hung out while she finished. She was the only one there so I played ball with my nephews in the hallway. The older nephew has absolutely perfect aim. I went exploring and found what appeared to be a conference room. There was a large table in the middle surrounded by important looking high-backed chairs and a Star Wars-looking module contraption in the middle of the table with buttons on it. I read it and it's an conference call thing. I looked around and was so thankful I don't have to spend time in that room. However there was one thing that did please my eyes: a very large dry-erase board. There was some writing on it. I left my mark. I drew my man with the large nose and hairy chin. My sister's office overlooks the highway, I just sat there and watched traffic go by. I said it was the Traffic Aquarium, then Troy said no, it's the Rat Aquarium, for all the rat race people. It's so sad. We're all trapped. I looked down and saw all those people in those cars and wondered how many of them really wanted to be in that car, on a highway. It's all we know! But I suspect if the men got a taste of riding a horse each day and the women got a taste of stirring a big black kettle over a big warm hearth in a cabin somewhere, things would be different. If we could only see and taste what we're missing. I
bet we'd all revolt. ..
well here I am with a fresh box of cookies, thinking hard about everything and where I'm headed from here. Wait let me back up. For starters, I have had the best 4 days EVER. My daughter had her tonsils out and recuperated here, with me. I told her to get them out more often. We had an utter blast. Movies, Starbucks, long walks, long talks, etc etc. I started to tear up when her dad called to say he was on his way to come get her. At least I have my fish. And my cookies. It's days like this where a good addiction would come in handy but I don't have any anymore. Speaking of addictions, don't you for one second say I'm judgemental when I talk about how wrong it is to get all into lustful things. I am the first to admit the reason for that: I used to be a total sex fiend. I'm pretty sure this snowballed and landed me right where I am today. Don't you see? It's a personal battle that I choose to fight publicly. I speak out against things that have personally held me down and messed up my life. There's feelings involved. Not self-righteousness. If you could only see the invisible yet very real mountain I have had to climb to get to where I am today. No I don't mean where I'm at physically. I mean, mentally and emotionally. I had to overcome so much. So when I say, enough of the lustful images! What I'm saying is, SAVE IT ALL FOR THE ONE YOU LOVE! And don't let it fill your voids. And when I say, GET RID OF THE DEMONIC IMAGES! What I'm saying is, I've been fighting demons since my teen years and I really don't like seeing them posted all over the place, just for fun, by people who have no idea what it is to really be caught in a struggle with them. At least on a conscious level. Do you hear what I'm saying? Everything I talk about comes from my heart cause it's affected me personally. I saw Dr. C yesterday. Come to find out, I think I like him better than Dr. B. WAY better. He spent a long time with me and really investigated and asked questions that I didn't even think about. He's hot on my trail. He thinks we're back to the ms thing. Did I tell you about my tongue thing? The stabbing pain I had in it? And how food doesn't taste as strong anymore? I mean, flavors. I have to use a whole lot of seasoning to taste it. And guess what. I had no idea, but the bottom of my feet are numb. I didn't know until he rolled a metal thing up and down each one. He also looked into my eyes for a long time with a light and kept going back to my right eye. He had me walk around. He did this thing with my hands to test the strength in them, and my right hand is useless. So he ordered another go-round in the MRI machine, full-body, top to bottom, he said they're not going to leave any stone unturned this time. He said, "don't get scared, but there's a chance we may see another spot in your brain, and if that's the case, you have ms." I told him I'm not scared, I'll be relieved and happy. I'll get on meds and get on with my life, for once and for all. He said they're also taking a good look at my neck. I'm going to be all fixed up. I also told him I'd slip him cash under the table not to order me another lumbar puncture. He said if I need another one they'll knock me out for it. I'm going to the fair this weekend with my sister & her family. I'm on Stroller Duty. I can't wait. Also, my mom asked to see the video I made of her and her boyfriend. So I made her a page and put it on there, hoping it will deter her from seeing all my videos. I don't care if she sees them, but what I do care about is if her boyfriend sees them. I don't care if he sees them, but if he sees them, then his family will see them! My future step-siblings! There's 3 of them! A daughter and two sons! All around my age, with wholesome families and everything!
Normal! And Baptist! What am I going to do? What if they see all the videos I did? On top of my normal everyday reality, that I'm teetering on the verge of becoming the Adult Vegetable Child? Now this! They are going to see what a freak I am! No wait, I'm not a freak, but to normal people like that, I could be viewed that way. Help. Also sometimes I don't recognize a word at first glance, I'll sound it out and wonder what it is, then it hits me, and I feel stupid. I am getting more stupid on some levels, yet more genius in so many other ways. How many contrasts can one human have? Do you even get me? I've been doing this new thing lately at night: driving over to these apartments I used to live at, just a few miles down the road, parking the car and then walking up and down the streets in a nearby neighborhood. It's where me & Leah used to walk when we lived there. It's right by one of her old schools. We used to walk and talk, and go to the playground at the school and sit on the swings for a while. So I've been doing this by myself lately. Except for the playground. I just walk. It feels so good. I just can't take it anymore. Being cooped up. I go slow but that's why walking at night is so wonderful. Nobody can see you. You can even go barefoot. You can wear your pajamas. I scared myself. With the videos. It's the strangest thing: each time I have a video page up and open, more dreams come. Then, I lock myself out, and they stop. It's like that singing frog cartoon that wait I'm taking a break. Don't mind me.
~ (august 08) I just got a call from my daughter, she's still in Austin, and she announced to me that she is "going to start recycling." I said I knew it, I knew you'd go down there and come back a tree hugger. She's not referring to normal everyday recycling. When my kid says she's "about to start something" it never means it's going to be a passive endeavor. She says they went to Barton Springs today and there was an older lady sitting there topless, sunning herself, and I got the full description of her breasts. According to my daughter the woman had "nipples the size of Jupiter." She said there was a little boy playing nearby, and the dad was sort of bothered by the spectacle because the little boy kept staring, and the dad said, loud enough to where to woman could hear: "Son, not all of them look like that. Most of them are perky." Then another woman came and sat down by the first one and she also removed her top. The dad said, "That's it. I'm taking you to a PG movie." And they left. At least they were halfway covered. Not like the website my dad and his girlfriend were all hyped up about last time I was over there: Hippie Hollow. And guess what. They actually went there. To be voyeurs. I got the full description of the place and the types of folks that go there. I am uncomfortable with public nudity. I don't think it's a beautiful thing when it's out in the open. I don't think man parts should be swinging around for the world to see especially. Especially the men.
I just walked to the mailbox and with each step down the stairs I heard my conscience say, "I should not be pushing myself". With each step. I'm getting more and more dizzy. It's either fall or stand on the edge forever, what would you do? I might as well go ahead and fall and get it over with. As I was walking to the mailbox I had something new! Sharp jabs in my right hip. Little stabs. Like something was biting me. And my fingers and toes have sharp prickles in them. Even now as I type, it feels like I touched a cactus. I'm strangely calm this time around. Last time I panicked. I'm not going to freak out again. I'm going to just get fixed and keep it simple and just keep on. I got a letter from my grandmother. Here let me open it and I'll tell you what it says. WOAH!!!! For starters, a $50 gift card to Whole Foods! No way! I can use that! Oh I am a happy camper!!! what she wrote in the card is boring so I'll spare you. ... Well here we go again. No silly not with a new blog. With the hospital. Guess what. I'm a dizzy mess. More so than usual. There's a strange feeling at the back of my neck, it feels like someone has their thumbs pressing on it. I already know what it is- it's my backup health problem. As if the west nile wasn't enough. No, my body needed a backup plan to use against me. It's my bone thing. The bones in my neck are slowly pushing on my spinal cord. It was found on an MRI but I didn't give it a second thought because of the whole west nile thing. I've had a lightheaded sensation for a few weeks now but now it's all the time. I'm dizzy. If I stand up to fast I feel like I'm going to drop. I had another meltdown today and my mom said it's hospital time again. I told her I can't deal with the people who answer the phones there. She said she'll call tomorrow and bully them real good till they can see me. If you're not dying, you have to wait. I didn't want to go back there because of this. I was waiting to get my own neurologist so I wouldn't have to wait so long when I needed to be seen, but looks like that's not happening just yet. The hospital is run by medical bullies and I have trouble standing my ground with them. But that's another topic. At least I have a new blog. Each new page is like Christmas. My neck feels like Darth Vader is holding onto it, gently. It doesn't hurt. My mom said if the bones aren't lifted off the spinal cord it could result in paralysis! For real! And it starts in your hands. That would explain why my hands have been funky lately. So I guess the dizzy thing is good, it's to get my attention to get back and get more treatment? My mom said my body is talking to me. I never wanted to have a conversation with my body. I need a stiff drink. And the only place I can get that currently is at my sister's house. But I don't think I can drive over there right now. My head is not right. You're not right either. Nobody is. But guess what. I decided to be happy. Apparently there is no escape to all this. So I've decided to make the most of it. More so than usual. I rearranged my bedroom today and it looks cute. I'm going to make sure I never run out of chocolate, and I have some new ideas for some drawings. Just stay with me. That's all I ask. I don't know why I fight this blogging thing. I would have lost my mind without it. ..
Today I opened up the styrofoam ice chest that's been in the back of my closet
since I moved here, it's part of what my kid refers to as my "armageddon stash". I do not stockpile. In fact I think it might backfire on us all. It occured to me that if and when something happens where people really do need to break into their stashes, that means their neighbors might be hungry, which means it wouldn't be right, and fights are going to break out and then the cops will have to get involved, then they'll probably crack down and make everybody turn their stuff in for the common good. And then you will hang your head and let out a long sigh as you realize all your time and effort was wasted. At least that's how I feel about it. I'd rather have my token 6 weeks worth of goods and then when I get low, expect a miracle. Or just go ahead and starve. So about this ice chest. It has all my fire supplies in it. I laughed as I opened it up and examined the contents. It's all about fire. But the only problem is, I only seem to be focused on lighting it. It looks like I didn't think too far past that. I have several packs of dollar store lighters, dollar store matches, and even a thing of lighter fluid, which I don't even know how to use. And then there's my spiffy little .. what is it? All I know is, I ordered it off this survival website back in '05. That's when I got all this stuff. When I moved to that little house in Red Oak. I was terrified there. Absolutely terrified. That's when I started thinking about surviving, is when I lived there. I guess I had good reason to be thinking along those lines. I should have stocked up on bug spray though. But about my little oven thing. I don't know what it is. But it came with a long-burning candle that goes in it, and you can actually cook things on it. Like a little campstove. I think it's cute. You should have seen me each time there was a bad storm. I got my supplies out and set them on the counter, all ready. My daughter laughed at me. We also had a rat or two at that place. I had to learn to set a trap. That was horrible. I never caught any. I just gave up and started throwing things up into the attic to drive them away. Everything. Laundry soap, mothballs, pinecones, boric acid. Salt. Eucalyptus leaves. You name it. I threw it up there. It worked! The rats/mice left. I wonder what the landlord thought about it when he went up there and saw it all. I also left over a hundred gallons of water up there. Just in case. Because when the electricity went out there, the water went out too! I'm telling you, that place was scary! And did I ever mention that I found out that it used to be a crackhouse? That explains the strange people who would show up every now and then with a shifty feel to them, knocking on my door and asking if so and so was home. Why did I live there? How did this happen? Can I go back in time and not move there? ..
I don't even know where to begin on this one. My body is breaking down, however, I strongly suspect with a quick flip of a surgeon's knife I will be made well once more. I'm thinking all I need is a few of those little bones popped off and I'll be up and running again. I'm dizzy. And my palms are numb. And I didn't know it but, I can't walk that good at all. I didn't know cause all I do is schlep around the apartment with no physical challenges at all. But today my mom insisted we go to the ER to get checked out, and I couldn't hardly make it up the stairs in the parking garage. They just kept going. I didn't. I walk slower than your great-grandmaw. My mom says I "have worsened greatly." Yay! Yay worsening greatly!! But the wait was too long. We were there all day. Got there at 10 and finally gave up and left around 6. For one thing they had my name wrong, and I heard them calling over and over again, "AMY MCBRIDE! AMY MCBRIDE! LAST CALL FOR AMY MCBRIDE!!! ..and there was no Amy McBride. Several hours passed and some guy noticed we had been there forever, and he goes, you don't even have an arm band yet? You were supposed to get one at registration. So
we checked it out and they thought I was Amy McBride. I said no, I have no idea how you got that name. So they had to start all over again with me. People kept coming in on ambulances and that bumps you further down the list. I gave up. I am not sleeping in the waiting room. One lady said she waited once for 3 days. So I am going to go back through the system and endure the waits between appointments, and in the meantime, hope and pray I don't up and pass out any time soon. My neck is holding on by a thread. That's what it seems like. The pressure is saying, "I am going to get you." So I also met a cute guy but as I was reaching for my pen my mom cleared her throat real loud and said no under her breath. He cooks food for the homeless people downtown. I keep meeting cooks! Things are looking up! He said he noticed me when I first came in. That tells me right there he's not too selective. I was limping and holding my head. He messed up his leg and I told him I can't date because I'm too messed up and he laughed and said he was messed up too. This gives me hope. In fact I saw a whole lot of limping guys today and thought, maybe I really should stick with other messed up people. That way I won't feel so bad. Also there was a woman there who also got lost in the system and waited too long and just belted out, "I AM ABOUT TO GO POSTAL ON THIS MOTHER F*$^&NG PLACE!!" And she stormed out. Then a crazy woman came in and started doing air guitar with her cane. I am not kidding. But out of all these noteworthy things, the very best one is my new coffee cup. It's styrofoam but it's hillarious. It all started when my mom saw people go up to this window in a remote corner of the waiting room. She said it looked like they were getting prescriptions. That is until we saw a hand come out with popcorn in it. It's a little food thing! Built into the wall. So my mom went over and got herself some popcorn and came back with some coffee for me. I had not cracked a smile all day until I read the cup. It says: "For a tasty treat that keeps you on your feet, visit Parkland Perk!" ..meaning, the little hole in the wall thing is calling itself Parkland Perk! Like Starbucks except it's in an emergency room! It's unmarked, no signs, no nothing. So I did visit Parkland Perk but it's not keeping me on my feet. And there's also a happy bright sunshine design on it. A stark contrast to the sounds of people vomiting in the bathrooms and the cussing old people. I need my neck fixed. It's shutting down my central headquarters. I don't know what to do or how to do it. I have trouble taking charge of myself medically. I turned it all over to my mom. I'm not ashamed to say I need help right now. I need other brains involved and I need the moral support. My mom is a real friend right now. She keeps me fed and sane and I forgot to say, she said about my new friend (he sat on the floor next to me and kept me entertained) she said, Amy he is BAD NEWS. I didn't see that in him. I feel bad now. He even wrote me a little note. I tore it up when I got home to keep my from scanning it and posting it. My whole world is a show and tell session right now. I can't help it. It helps me cope. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to add my blog to directories all over the world, thereby extending my verbal shenanigans globally. I'm going to spank the entire world. You can call me The Punisher. ..
Today in my prayer I told God to just deal with me, just hash me out, just do whatever He has to do to make sure there's NOTHING in between us, because when I get to heaven and stand before Him I don't want there to be any unresolved issues
to deal with. I don't want to get there and He has to have a talk with me about anything or subtract any treasures or make me aware of some eternal consequences. I said, just get it over with, please deal with me completely while I'm here on the earth. Because I want to just run to You in complete joy when I see You. And also I want Jesus to be laughing when He sees me. So after all this, when I was done praying, I was reminded of that verse in Colossians about building up in Christ. "As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, having been firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed, and overflowing with gratitude." (Col 2:6-7) So what I'm thinking is I need to stop taking my relationship with Christ for granted "as is" and keep building, keep seeking, keep searching for a deeper knowing of Him and who He is, and spend more time with Him. I need to build some more. So my chain reaction in my mind started thinking of a dream I had recently about Lincoln Logs. In the dream I was building, and I saw a square being constructed, one side at a time, layer after layer, slow and steady. Building up. What are you working on? I'm working on staying alive with a smile and moving forward even though my body wants to fall backward. A little while ago I sat down and tried to draw the Lincoln Logs I dreamed of but it looked stupid. So I decided to go with the blocks and the stick people. You get the idea. ..
Last night, or was it early this morning, I had a brief dream of a man sitting in a jail cell, and Jesus was walking right outside the cell, in full view of the man. I understood that the man was in "his own prison" and Jesus was waiting for the man to come on out of it, understanding being the key. Of what a relationship with Christ is about. Real understanding. The man sat there with his head down inside the cell and said something about how it's "only exciting when..." He was rationalizing Christianity in his mind and pondering the things about it that he liked, thinking of reasons to approve and disapprove of it. And all the while there was Jesus, pacing? Right outside the cell. So of course this has been on my mind ever since I've woken up. I prayed about it and I don't know what else to say, other than simply tell you what I saw. Everyone has to work it out on their own and seek Him on their own. I can say this however. The man in the cell said something about "excitement". Which made me think of how some people can get easily sidetracked with all the spiritual aspects of Christianity, especially the prophetic. How some people see it as some kind of holy magic show and can't wait for the next exciting revelation or dream or word of knowledge, and the excitement and rush when it comes to pass or when it lines up with your own world. I visited a prophetic website one time and sensed that it was being used like a tarot reading, even by Christians. Some people check in for the wrong reasons. We have to remember that the gifts of the Spirit are tools to help one another out, the purpose being to edify one another and encourage one another. The gifts are tools for His people. The gifts themselves are not to be glorified. Which brings to mind a vision I had a few years ago: I saw a gorgeous colorful arrow, I held it in my hands and admired it, turning it over and over and examining it and cherishing it. I knew in my spirit that this was a reminder, that we are not to admire the tools (weapons!)- just use them. I was convicted by this vision at the time, it was when my dreams and visions were first starting to happen on a more frequent basis and I admit I was
caught up in the whole excitement of it all. This is another trick of the enemy so watch out. Everything has to be kept in it's proper place. Nothing should be more important to us than our everyday walk with Christ. It's that simple. Beware of things that tickle your spiritual fancy. How did I stray from the subject? I was trying to explain my man in the jail cell dream. Actually to be honest it wasn't a dream, it was a brief vision, and not only that but it was shown to me just like a cartoon. It looked like a New Yorker cartoon, black and white, single panel, drawn sketchy and what the man was saying was shown as a caption, in quotes, at the bottom. And ya'll wonder why I am so in love with God. He is hillarious with me and He gets His points across to me in the most funny ways. He shows me pictures most of the time instead of long drawn-out speeches. He babies me. I love Him. wait Did any of this make sense? I don't know what else to say about it. My uncle is in the hospital on a ventilator and they are running tests on him today to determine whether or not they should go ahead and pull the plug. He overdosed last night on his medications on purpose. He's mentally ill and he's struggled for a long time. I might get to go see him this evening. ..
To be honest I really don't have anything noteworthy to say but I wanted to write something anyway. So here we go. To begin with, I saw my uncle today, he's not in a regular hospital room. It looks like a fish tank room. Completely see-through. And then just him, in a bed, right there in the middle. On display. He's a big man. His feet were hanging off the bed. He's 6"3 or 4. I walked in and said, Uncle Andy it's Amy, and his left hand rose up for me to hold it, and I did, it was cold and clammy but I held it tight in both hands and told him I loved him. They have him restrained. And he didn't know it. Until I got there. As it turns out I was the first family member to talk to him, apparently he had just come to, right before I got there. He was asking where he was and how he got there and how long he'd been there. The nurse interrupted and he snapped t her and said I DON'T NEED YOU TO INTERPRET! and he made a hissing sound at her. She left the room and he settled back down. I soothed him and told him that he was in God's care. He mumbled things that I didn't understand but I nodded and acted like I was agreeing. There was blood on his chest, the nurse said when he woke up he ripped out his central line. I didn't know what to say to him so I told him that I read all the letters he sent to my mom over the years and how entertaining they were, and what an interesting life he's had. He liked that. I said, Andy do you remember you toured Europe on your bike? And do you know you've lived in some really interesting places? He really liked all this. Then I told him how much reading those letters blessed me. I said his wisdom and insight really taught me alot. He held on to my hand tighter as I talked with him. I told him I love him, and he told me he's been worried about me. I laughed and said, I know Andy! My body's messed up too! This morning when I was praying for him a Bible verse came to mind, so I looked it up, wrote it down, memorized it. And when I was standing there next to him I said, I know how much you love God and how much you love His Word, here's one for you- and I said to him, From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same, the Lord's Name is to be praised. And as I was saying this, he rested his head on back, closed his eyes, and I could see his lips moving and he was saying it along with me. Andy has paranoid schizophrenia. It hit in his mid 20's after experimenting with some hashish- the real thing- in Turkey. He was on leave, he was in the Marines
and was taking a vacation. They said it triggered something in his brain, something about the chemicals. But that he could have gotten it regardless because it's also a genetic thing. But the trip to Turkey set him off and he's been in and out of the VA hospitals ever since. He's a wanderer. He went to my grandmother's house to end it all, but it looks like he didn't succeed. I don't know what's going to happen with him now. I guess if he comes all the way back they'll turn him over to the VA. Tonight I took a long walk, a slow one. I can't walk fast anymore. I'm totally ok with it all now. It's peaceful. I had a new and different frame of mind this time. It was more of a stroll, in the moonlight, and I actually stopped to pet a toad. There's toads everywhere around here and usually I just say hello and walk on by, but tonight I decided to stop for a visit. He actually let me. He just sat there, didn't even blink. His skin was bumpy and he was fat and cute with beady black eyes. How long has it been since you've stopped to pet a toad? Next time you see one, why don't you. I think they like it. I'm losing more weight and I'm not even remotely interested in food. I'm at 114. Which is fine but the only problem is I think it's melting away for no reason. Nothing tastes good. That's why these old people nutrition drinks are so appealing to me right now. They're easy. And also bananas. I'm going through bananas like a monkey. My right hand is getting weaker and it hurts sometimes. I have a few appointments lined up, back on the conveyer belt that runs through the hospital, back to the waiting and the testing and the uncertainties. Did I mention I can hardly go up stairs? I have to hold on to the rail and actually use it. It's my right leg. What's really a trip is the peace I have. God is really doing a number on me.
(february 09) It happened. She went and did exactly the thing I told her not to do: turn 18. Yet she did it anyway. My daughter. I told her I was going to ground her for this, but she laughed and said she's already grounded. (She and her friend decided to go to Austin a couple weeks ago, sans parental permission.) This morning I awoke with the bittersweet knowings in my soul of doors closing and new ones opening. I feel sadness and loss, I feel tears welling up as I type. But I also am running over with such joy and relief. I'm nothing short of an Accomplished Woman. I did it. Don't ask what. Just know, I did it. I made her a pillow for her birthday. It was going to be a quilt, but instead, it's a big decorative throw pillow for her bed. I've been saving her favorite little shirts and dresses and sleepers ever since she was a baby so that when she turned 18, I'd make a quilt out of them. Over the years as she'd outgrow something, and if it was something colorful and cute and full of warm memories, I'd stuff it in the special bag, usually cutting a fabric square out of it first and tossing the rest. The bag has become fat and full over the years and I've
lugged it with me everywhere I go. I never open it. But I had to a few months ago. I opened it up and dumped it out and found myself surrounded by a sea of warm memories of hugs, cuddling, laughing, reading books, stroller rides and playgrounds. It wasn't exactly easy to sew these patches together and create the finished product, but I did it. I've been working on it for the past few weeks. It's the craziest pillow you've ever seen, complete with big hot pink strings of fringe coming off each side. She's going to open it and laugh. I did other things, too. I've done alot over the past couple of months. I stood back up on my feet. I got a job, doing what I know how to do well- I'm back to talking customer's heads off about vitamins. I found an affordable apartment and I'm making plans to move very soon. I wrapped up my Season of "Purging". Purging. A good word, is it not? An old friend referred to it as that recently. I never looked at it this way. I viewed it as giving, sharing. But purging is quite accurate, although a little rough sounding. Speaking of this old "friend". The tears that wait to be acknowledged in my heart this morning are also there because of him. I feel a certain sadness as I become more and more aware of how different my life has become, how unconnected I really am, how the ties that once held me close to certain people have now become frayed, untangled, and have come loose. I used to think it was just me. Now I realize, that's just life. I blame my hermithood but in all honesty, I've chosen to live the way I do. I had this vision a few nights ago: A river, with three distinct "paths" lying flat upon the surface of the water, these paths appeared to be tire tracks, muddy. The paths ran parallel, a wide one in the middle and two slimmer ones on each side. Three paths, three tracks, three lives. They were in the river, going in the same direction. Above the river was a small golden bridge, it arched up and over, connecting the two river banks. I saw the three paths running one way, and the bridge going another way. I knew in my spirit, the bridge was part of my own path. I stand on the side of this river now. I stand and watch the water flowing, I see these three lives going their own way. Where will they go? What will they do? Where will the flow of life take them? My tears are coming up now as I type. I know I must say goodbye to these three. I know the truth now, none of the three were mine for romance and love, yet it was the hope that kept my selfish female heart connected. The simple truth is, I was called to minister to these three, to wake them up, to speak truth. What a test this has been. I fell for each one. One was my first love, perhaps the only man I have ever known "true love" with. It was powerful and real, but too strong at the time for me. The second was much younger than me, yet made my heart laugh with joy and made me feel free and fun. The third was the vessel that was used to cripple me and infect my mind during the past year, the most ingenius weapon that has ever come against me in the form of another human being. Speaking to these three is how this all started, and not by choice. It just started to happen, beginning in '04. My heart was burdened for each one, dreams and visions were shown to me about them, and this, combined with feelings on and off, created a real confusion festival in my head and in my heart. I've been dancing with three men, yet none took the time to take my hand gently. I suppose the river is a good place for them to end up. Pride. Self. All three struggle with these things. Do any of them realize that my personal writings speak of their own issues as well? Can any of these men take a look in the mirror and see, what I have shared with everyone are lessons for them
as well? I spoke of my pain, my mistakes, lessons learned the hard way. I told them of how hard God dealt with me regarding pride and vanity. Can they open their eyes and see that I was struck down as a result of not yeilding these things to Him? Can they see, their lives are very much like my own? I opened my life to show what I lived and what I learned. And now I stand, rejected romantically by the ones who wanted me, back before they understood what I was really all about, on the inside. I held out for this. I have been tested, and so I test in return. None have passed my own test so far. Not one man has swallowed his pride with me. Look at what pride does to you. Look at the lost opportunities it brings. Look at the roadblocks it creates. It all goes back to pride. Listen to me now. Humble yourself and deal with this sin before God does it for you. I stand and feel the loss of these three possibilites, but I have learned so much. I now look at the bridge. I can't see where it leads. I can't see what's on the other side. But it's my own path to walk and I step on that bridge with a smile. I say goodbye to the river that washed me, goodbye to the memories that propelled me, goodbye to the men who taunted me. I loved you all, but my love can never be enough. May the strong current of the river lead you to a better place in life, a better way, a better day. A vision comes to mind, several months ago: jello on my kitchen counter, all set up, and a handful of strawberries being tossed upon it, but bouncing off. It was too late to add fruit. The jello was already "set up." Goodbye, boys. You rejected my fruit, but I laugh as the river carries you away. Not saying it was a set-up or anything. ~*~
Another vision just a few days ago: a small drinking glass, clean and clear, yet filled with lots and lots of cigarettes, all crammed in there. Each cigarette appeared to have already been smoked, but they were still almost full length. As if someone just lit one, took one or two puffs (I don't know smoking terminology.. drags?) and then put it out. Not only that, but the end of each one had alot of that smokey gray ash hanging off of it, like it was really burned out. The glass was filled with these. I'm being shown what my cup has been filled with, all of these years- burned-out relationships, not even finished, and barely started. Cigarettes are not good for you, just as none of the men I have been "sampling" have been, for me at least. I don't even smoke. What are these burned out things doing in my cup? The enemy has tried to fill my cup with so many "failures" that I might be burned out and jaded regarding men, relationships, and love. That I might believe the lie that I've tasted so many, and only come up empty-handed, it's pointless. That all men and all relationships are bad. I have been subconsciously carrying this lie around with me for many years. That love goes nowhere, that relationships burn out fast, that the bad boys are the only ones I know how to taste. I'm realizing, these negative and false things do not belong in my cup. I was not meant to spend my years searching for love and being hurt, and hurting others. I was not meant to experience so many dead-end relationships. I was not meant to lie
down in a man's bed in hopes of something meaningful evolving. I have, up until 2004, been living like an unpaid prostitute, giving myself away for free. I take this cup and hold it in front of me. I examine the ruins of my heart. I gaze upon each burned out option, each dead end. I don't empty the glass into the river, no, the river is already doing it's cleansing work. I think I will take this glass and bury the contents somewhere. But the glass I will take along with me, as I walk across that bridge. I'm curious to see what exactly God wants to fill it with. ~*~
In 1990, when I was pregnant with my daughter, I had a very powerful and vivid dream: I was standing in an airport, waiting to board a flight. I was standing in line and there was lots of tension in the air, I was filled with apprehension. I carried a baby girl on my hip, we were getting ready to board a flight, a journey. In '03 I had another dream along those lines, except this time, I was alone. Right around that time, my daughter went to live with her dad for a while. I knew I was beginning a new journey, a new path, one that would be deeper and more difficult. Just a few months ago I dreamed of being in a small plane, I was the only passenger, and the pilot was my dad (my "Father"). He said, "Are you ready to come in for a landing?" I am ready, Daddy. I am ready. Thank you Father for this incredible journey You have taken me on. Thank you for every trial and tribulation You've allowed me to experience. Thank you for the lessons You've taught me. Thanks for the peace I now have in my head and in my heart. Thank You for allowing sickness, and bringing healing. Thank you for showing me the painful things I didn't want to face. Thank you for the hope You've given me. Thank You for the promises You've given me. I believe You, Dad. I trust You. I know that all I need to do at this point in time is take my empty cup and cross that bridge. ~*~
I have seen glimpses of my future. I have looked into the eyes of my son. He has laughing, smiling eyes. The vision of him remains in my mind, yet I have been so quick to forget his appearance when I have tried so hard to make the puzzle pieces fit together. By that I mean, I think of a man I might know, or am attracted to, and I forget that my son looks nothing like him. Oh stop shaking your head at me. I'm not crazy. You just haven't gotten fully on my page yet. Get in my book, ok? He looks nothing like any of my former "top-3". There is only one man that I know that he resembles. This just occurred to me last night. I was going through my head, trying to think of anyone I might know, that could possibly physically match up with the vision I had. There is only one man, and he's someone I've never been in a relationship with, but I do know him. He's a little bit older than me. I had a raging terrible crush on him from 2000 to 2003, but circumstances prevented me
from ever expressing it. Maturely, at least. He's the only one that I know that looks very much like the vision that was shown me, not only facial features but also body type and even personality. I sensed my son, I sensed his being. I felt his laughter. I saw him viewing me and laughing at me. I felt his love. The thing is, I've always known that I'd end up with someone I already know. That's why I've made the mistake so many times of assuming it's such and such. I've been acting like some kind of detective when really I should be enjoying my life. I want to be a normal woman so very badly. I want to learn to handle the things God shows me, yet still enjoy things normally. How? I guess I'll just have to figure it out. Look at me. Talking about needing to stop trying to solve puzzles, and at the same time, saying who I think my future son looks like. Look at me! Do you agree that it's a good thing that I'm stopping all this blogging? I am, by the way. I am. I already did, in fact. I'm no longer on the computer. I just wanted to do this one today. I woke up with this full head and I need to spill it out. ~*~ Last night at work I met a man from India with a very fluffy beard. And he looks around my age, he's not even old. His beard is puffier than Santa's. I was fascinated. He was speaking softly about vitamins yet all I could do was gaze at his beard. I didn't even answer his vitamin questions. Instead, I told him that his beard was very puffy. He smiled and touched it and told me all about it. He uses vitamin E soap on it. He said if he didn't trim it, it would grow extremely long. I told him he reminded me of Cat Stevens. He didn't know who he was! So I had to tell him all about him. He said he'd go home and look him up, then next time he's in the store, he'd tell me of some good music I can check out. I made a new friend. I love this job. I don't see it as several different jobs, no, it's all one long vitamin selling job, just at different stores. So I can say, I've been doing the same thing since '99. That's when I got my very first job in a health food store, making smoothies. I'm on my 7th store now. I think I've found Vitamin Nirvana. It's the best one so far. Something I really like about it is one of my co-workers, he's only 20, and that means FUN. We invented a new concept the other night: Alternate Reality Vitamin Store. It's where you go and buy things like Tapeworm Eggs instead of colon cleansers, Arsenic Concentrate Drops instead of ionic minerals, and Cow Pattie Dainty Soap instead of herbal cleansers. The list goes on and on. I love my new job. ...
freedom is never free I saw that somewhere when I was a teenager, in a book maybe, and I tore it out, "laminated" it in scotch tape, and affixed it to the inside cover of my jewelry box. Freedom is Never Free. I was fascinated with the phrase. Freedom. What was it? Why do wars break out over it? Why is it what's taken away from a prisoner, as punishment? What is this concept that is so important to us? I knew, even as a teen, it somehow went much deeper than physical freedom, like the right to vote, freedom of speech, etc etc. So when I saw that, according to this quote, that it was never free... I began to wonder, so then, at what cost? And where do you go to
buy it? "There are so many to set free" is what I heard in my spirit in '05, as God showed me a vision of rows and rows of people behind bars, arms outstretched , hands waving, begging to be released. I had been praying for the people in my neighborhood at the time. From all outward appearances these people were not imprisoned in any way, no, they were the most relaxed folks I'd ever seen, without a care in the world it seemed, spending time on their front porches of their dilapadated homes. The kids romped in the street and played. The women had huge potbellies that rivaled the men. The men sat and drank beer and watched life go by, from the vantage point of the porch. I loved it there. Why did God show me that these people were imprisoned? From all outward appearances, they were free as could be. Chew on that for a minute why dontcha. When all this started, God said, "Tell them who you are", and I just went blank. I had no idea. All of this expression has helped me to answer my own question as to who I am. This strange journey began with a dream in the fall of '06, while the seizures were going on, but I was too afraid to tell anyone. I dreamed of walking alone on a road, and the wind started to blow. It blew with such force that I could no longer move forward, and I was blown to the side of the road. I even saw a car blown off to the side as well, showing me how strong the wind was. As I stood on the side of the road, I was given an electronic device, it looked like a waffle iron, but it was something to communicate with. I held it in my right hand and was told that with this device, I would tell others "where I've been, and where I'm going." I carried this thing and began walking on the side of the road, and a path opened up through the tall grass. I saw that the path before me ran parallel to the big road, yet I was protected on each side with tall grass, almost like a cornfield. It was a safer path to walk. The electronic communication device, of course, turned out to be this laptop that my mother insisted I bond with during the past two years, while I recovered. The fact that it appeared to be a waffle iron goes along with something God told me, that this time would "iron out my waffling." Indecision, changing my mind, being unsure of so many things. I can say that now, my waffling is all ironed out. I know who I am, and I know what I want, and what I don't want. I am unafraid to speak out. Spiritually, I am a prophetess. I can say that now. Others have said it for me, but now, I can nod in agreement with no shame or self-consciousness. I am unafraid of my gift and I am learning to manage it with more grace, maturity, and joy. Physically, I'm so proud of my healing that I could burst. I laugh at what happened and I laugh at what God has done with me during this time. It's surreal. Only me. Only in my life would this happen. I'm not even 40 yet. What next? Mentally, I need help. Currently, Acetyl L-Carnitine is my best friend, twice a day, and good old tea, all the time. And lots of sleep. Emotionally, I enjoy being the woman God created me to be. I am sensitive. I stress easily. I like guys. Ok I love guys. I have nothing left to hide and nothing to apologize for. My weaknesses balance out my strengths. I'm the perfect chick for the perfect man, wherever he may be. I desire a strong hand to hold, I yearn for comforting arms around me. But I will never play games again or try to fit myself into anyone else's standards. Freedom is the name of the game. We all have the right to be free, not only in your physical world, but in your
friendships and relationships as well. To me, freedom is key. In all that I do on this planet from here on out, FREEDOM will be there. Oppression, condemnation, and accusation will not be a part of my life, and people who operate in these things will have nothing to do with me. I am hated for my strengths, did you know that? Many men have loved me on the outside, yet hated once they discovered what's on the inside. Boys, I am now inside-out. There are no secrets. I have created the most ingenius filter ever. Each new man I meet will be promptly directed to my online creations. No more upall-night explaining festivals, any more. By that I mean, I have talked so many guy's heads off over the years in futile attempts to show them what my head is really all about, but I only ended up confusing them. I'm growing my hair long again. I'm wearing a smile. View my beauty, inside and out, and weep. Punks. ~*~
I was going to create a new spot to stick my blogs, other than Worm Island. I was thinking Butterfly House, or Maison de Papillon would be the next place, but in my story, that represents heaven. I can't be blogging from heaven. So Worm Island, the place where men die unto themselves, is where I will leave this. I leave this strange virtual world now, with a huge sigh of relief. I did it. For years I was always on the verge of an emotional breakdown, barely able to contain all that was inside of me, good and bad. The pain, the grief, the overwhelming pain of the loss of my brother. The loss of my role as a mother, or so I perceived it, when my daughter would live with her dad. The frustrations of being used, again and again, in search of finding love. The frightening dreams and visions that began to flood my mind as God began to reveal Himself to me, and then watching them come to pass, one by one, scaring the living daylights out of me, and sometimes out of the folks they had to do with, and the suspicious looks that followed. The uphill battle that has been the norm for me as a single woman, on my own since 1997, refusing any form of help from anyone, including my family, until I was forced to rest, after getting the brain infection. For years I have been a walking time bomb. No more. I plumb exploded. I am enjoying my life once more. I go to work and have a clear mind, for the first time ever. I no longer feel the need to talk about personal matters with people. I feel more capable of helping others, rather than needing help. I enjoy listening more than speaking. My nerves are healing, I no longer feel as if I could cry when the wind blows. I am free. If I could leave you with one thing, I would say, HUMBLE YOURSELF. That, or toy around with pride a little longer. Who knows, maybe God will grant you a nice long season of cleansing, like He gave me. The only thing is, that soap
sort of hurts. You can do it the hard way, like I did. Or you can simply listen to me. Give yourself to Christ. Turn yourself in. Surrender. Don't make me get in my (I still don't have a car so I'll have to get back with you on that one) ... (april 09) The other day I dreamed this: I was slowly climbing a steep staircase, it appeared to be outside and it was carved out of stone, it was covered in mud and it was scary. It was steep and scary, and each new step to take was impossible for me, until I actually lifted my right leg to take a step, that's when a big strong arm would come down and grab hold of my hand and pull me up so I could get on the next step. I'd stand there, look at the mud, all blocked and overwhelmed, then attempt to step up and right then the help would come. This happened over and over again. I looked behind me and saw lots of people climbing the same stairs. I noticed each time the hand would lift me up and help me to the next step, I'd come down with such force on the new step that I left heavy indentions in the mud, footprints, and I turned and saw that the people behind me were stepping where I stepped, their climb was made easier because of my footprints in the mud. I made it all the way to the top and realized I had been climbing a mountain, there was no more mud on top, I was dizzy and I said, "that was so hard!" And I saw who had been lifting me, it was Jesus. He laughed at me and said, "I know!" And I understood that He had been with me all along. I woke up and cried and felt reassured that there is purpose to my difficulties, that other people are/will be helped because of it. And that's maybe why I can laugh, because I can't give any advice in any area of life except the spiritual. Oh and I should say again, the hand didn't come down and lift me up until I'd lift my leg to take the step. Even though I knew I couldn't do it. I still tried. ..
(may 09) ...did I ever mention one of the very first visions I had after the brain infection? Or, rather, while it was going on. Like maybe the first month I was out at my mom's, barely off the depakote, staring into space and wondering what on earth was happening. I saw this~ a beautiful fig tree, laden with HUGE golden ripe fat juicy figs, they were so ripe and ready they were making the branches droop. Then a strong wind came to shake the tree and I knew all the figs were about to be blown right off. The location of the fig tree in the vision was right outside my mom's apartment, in the corner of the building, protected. Only one side was exposed to the strong wind. Well trees don't have sides but you know what I mean. The fig tree was about to be blown but it was safe at the same time. God was showing me what He was about to do with me. Did you like my fruit? Did any of it fall on your head? I hope so.
... (june 09) It's really been on my mind and bothering me. I just don't see how it will ever work. The scary restaurant dream. Sorry if you don't know what I mean. That's too bad. I'm tired of this. Look. I've been thinking, and I'm realizing, all this I've been doing IS like a restaurant already. It's always there, open 24/7, and I'm inside. Not for real, but even better than real. The best of me is inside all this. That's more than you'd ever get out of me in real life. None of this means much now. But let it ferment, let it float. Times are changing. Things that are seemingly totally uncool now might be suddenly more appealing when Just know that I created more than cookies. I made a feast. It's all I had to give. And I had to do it when I did, because time is short. My life is changing, there's a turn up ahead on my road. Good things are happening. The landscape is changing, fresh air is coming in. I'm moving on and I really don't want to take any of this with me. I thought I was going to, but I changed my mind. Love, A. (that's not to say I'm quitting my Secret Operative position. Just the writing & video making.)
(march 08) Earlier this year, I had the recurring dream of attempting to bury a package of seeds. In the dream, I kept wondering, why am I doing this? How can you grow anything if the seeds are all buried in a clump, in a package? Yet I kept doing this, in my dreams. God brought to mind the fact that I had my journal all wrapped up in a package (literally) and buried away, hidden. He said, "Release My seeds." Then, the dreams changed. I saw the package torn open and seeds scattered. This is when I began to write like there was no tomorrow. It all just came pouring out of me, during this strange time of my life. I have been torn open. Then, I had this dream a couple months ago: I saw myself standing in a huge pile of seeds, they were covering my feet, they came up to my ankles, they were everywhere! I laughed and reached down and scooped some up in my hands, I was amazed at how many there were. God has given me clues through the years that He had plans for me, and I have
always sensed something mighty, well, He's mighty, and I'm small, that's why when I feel Him it's so overwhelming. It's just this amazing thing inside of me, the Living God. He's so good, people. He is SO GOOD. So about the seeds. I have been torn open, and I have proceeded to spill out all that was in me, for better or for worse. That's what I will keep on doing. I have no idea what is worthy and what is trivial. That's up to Him. All I know to do is keep talking.
I'm laying here trying to sleep for a minute till it's time to go pick up my mom, but I can't, cause I just realized I forgot to mention a few things. And it's imperative that I include every detail during this time because I have to remember everything. And you never know, this up and coming season of my existence just might be more fascinating and exciting than the Year of the Mental Blowout. I think they should add that to the Chinese calendar. Some people are Monkeys, and you got your Roosters, then you have your Mental Blowout folks. I love the fact that that happened to me. In fact if I could go back and do it all over again, I might, just not the lumbar puncture. But everything else was fun. Except the seizures. Speaking of seizures, why did I wait so long to tell somebody I was having them? Why did I keep it on the down low? And why did I get rid of my car? So I wanted to say, I still don't really know where I am located, in relation to my new job. I've never been out that much in that direction. I do have directions memorized to the thrift store, and this is how to get there (this is actually how I remember it:) leave apartments, go left. Keep going till you see the tunnel, but don't go in. Turn right. Keep going until the street comes to a shopping center, and if you were to keep going straight you'd crash into the front doors of Wig Palace. Turn left. Turn right at the Statue of Liberty. For real. A very energetic guy who's dressed like the Statue of Liberty, completely, all silver, even with the spikey crown on his head, dancing on the corner, holding a sign. Turn right. Pass McDonald's, then lo! Look! ...it's the thrift store, on the right! And it is chock-full of so many goodies I can't get over it. That's how I became friends with the girl who runs the counter there. I tell her this is one of the best thrift stores I've ever seen, and she seems to agree, but then again she's stuck working there. I might hate it if I had to work there. Speaking of work, today my mom asked me, Oh by the way Amy, how much are they paying you? And when she said this, it dawned on me, I didn't even ask! I still don't know! I didn't even think about it. I guess, truth be told, I really don't care. I'm just happy to have a job again. And the other thing I wanted to tell the whole world is that my ex husband is getting a divorce. Which is perfect timing, now I'll be able to send him some cash to help with the Spawn. This man has been so understanding all this time, for over a year now I haven't been able to contribute at all, and he hasn't said a word. I told him I can't wait to cut him a check. And pay my mom some rent. And send some cash to the Spawn. And start saving for a car. AND GET MORE CUTE CLOTHES!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now that I think about it, I do wonder how much they plan on paying me. My throat is sudden WAIT. Oh great. The maintenance man is here, again. Why does my mother call him so much? Is this HE'S LAUGHING AT ME!!!!!!!! He just called me in there and goes, LOOK!!! And he was holding a HUGE WAD OF MY HAIR ON HIS PLIERS!!!!!!!!!!! I AM HUMILITATED.
He just goes, who tub is this? You or your mom? And I confessed. I guess it got clogged before I chopped all my hair off. How did my mom know it was draining slow? He just goes OKEY DOKEY!!! BYE!!! and left. I am going to die. This is like a plumber suddenly showing up with a plunger and heading into your bathroom with no notice and unplugging a huge WAIT my alarm is going off. I need to go get my mom. MY THROAT HURTS. My brain is all over the place. I've been taking alfalfa tablets round the clock for a few days now. I'm thinking of like, 10 things at once. Sort of like it used to be. I think my head is waking back up!
Well, you'll never believe what kind of person it looks like I might have become. Just guess. I have turned into one of those people who talk alot to the person who's ringing me up. I don't know how it happened or where it came from. I never used to be like this. But now I have a real-live budding social circle, the girl at the thrift store being my number one. She remembered me today. She was like, you got the job? Cause it was her that rang me up last week (on the day that I SHOULD'VE been getting something to wear on an interview (which I'm glad I didn't, as it turns out I didn't need it) but instead got the block of wood with the peas on it. This morning was sort of deja vu, I found myself in the drive-thru line at McDonald's again, but did NOT order the number 6. I got the number 3 instead. I don't like combo meals but there's no time to pick and choose what you really want anymore. They rush you through and there's hardly any time to get out your money. I feel very intimidated these days, in a wide variety of situations. The worst is the Wendy's drive-thru, there's not even time to blink. I don't know how they do it. I love what they wear at my new job. There's no real uniforms, but you have to dress in black and white. As in, black pants and a white blouse. So naturally I stretched this to the limit and made sure everything I got today was super-unique and cute, for example, cute black boots with shiny zippers and they go halfway up my legs. Of course they won't show. But I'll know I'm wearing them and that's all that matters. Finally, a valid excuse once more to wear zippery black leather boots. I... I HAVE ARRIVED. Wait. There's something else I was going to say. (thinking) .... ...
Oh yeah! Speaking of wearing things that nobody knows! When I was typing that above, it made me think of my dreadful days of wearing a sports bra, and then
going to this Wal-Mart in order to remedy the situation, and tossing the ugly thing into the parking lot. That's what I was going to say. Another reason why today was deja vu: I went back to that same Wal-Mart today, and got some really cute unmentionables, and came home and tossed my old ones, including the bra I got to cancel out the sports bra, into the trash. So it's like, the full circle of Wal-Mart and bras. You just don't know. So it looks like I'm steadily climbing the ladder once more, and maybe by next year there will be no need to keep upping things a notch in my wardrobe, maybe by then I'll be all set with the cutest clothing EVER. Like I had when I had an apartment out here (right down the road actually) and I dressed up every day and had the most adorable clothes and shoes ever, but then found out that when you look all steamy and sassy AND live alone, panty thiefs come and break in and do bad things in your apartment, running you off to live with your father for a season, eventually resulting in you getting your own place again but not without first throwing away all your makeup and chopping off your hair in order to deter the curious neighbors who stare while you unload your few belongings out of your Chevy Metro in the broken-glass littered gravel driveway of the garage apartment to the mobile home with the sewage puddle out back that had mosquito larvae in it. People, just a warning. I'm back, and I'm dangerous. Stand back. No, for real. I mean it this time. There is absolutely NO TELLING what's next.
Last night as I was going to sleep I remembered something that happened when I was little, we were out riding bikes, all of us neighbor kids, that would be a pack of about 7 or 8 kids, and I was the youngest. Those days were different, things were safe, we'd ride all over the place, on bike trails, to the YMCA, to Aunt Stella's Sno Cones, to Edgefield Park, to Polar Bear Ice Cream. As long as we stayed together, we pretty much had permission to go anywhere we wanted. On this one particular day we were doing the bike trail thing, going up and down the hills, in single-file, and of course I was last in line. I think I was about 6 or 7 years old. I was going along, and I fell, my bike toppled over and I went tumbling, and I remember just laying there, stunned for a minute. Finally I looked up and realized, I was alone, all the other kids were long gone and nobody knew I had fallen. Then! Next thing I knew, these two hands are under my arms, my bike is set up straight and I'm suddenly sitting on it. Before I could even think twice about it, I looked, and he was gone. It was some kid on a bike, an older boy, and not part of our group. I didn't recognize him, I guess he had been riding a way back behind all of us or something. Anyway, he didn't even say a word to me, just came up, put me back on my bike, then took off down the trail. I remember thinking "thank you" in my little heart because I couldn't say it to him. I got back on the trail and eventually caught up with my group, who didn't even know I had fallen. I was little but also faster than the rest of them. I don't know why this memory came to mind last night. I wasn't thinking about me falling, I was thinking of the fact that I had a helping hand, just out of the blue, to pull me back up, and didn't even linger long enough to hear a thank you. To him it was probably nothing, but to me it was something. I guess it came to mind because I feel like I've been suddenly put back up right and able to go again. Yesterday, I was hired, and I didn't even have an interview. I was early, so I called the manager from the parking lot and asked if I could come by a little earlier for the interview, and she said, you know what- let's just skip the interview, I can tell you're right for this place just by talking to you on the phone earlier and by looking at your application. Just come on in &
we'll get the paperwork going. So I got a job in a parking lot. I ... I was... well let's just say that I called everyone in my entire family, and they're as happy as I am. I got the hours I wanted, at the store I wanted, doing the thing I wanted, at the location I wanted. And now today I'm getting some new clothes. That's because I'm dangerous. On the way home I had to stop by and tell Mark, and rubbed it in his face that I'm working at a vitamin store again, using all the knowledge that he trained me in. I got a little certification thing while working at his store, and he's the one who studied with me and taught me the basics. I love to remind him that his investment in me is being scattered abroad. He hangs his head and sighs and says, "You pick on me because I'm Jewish." He's hillarious. I've come so far. I can't help but be really, really, exceptionally happy for myself at the moment. As of next year, I will honestly be able to say that I've been doing this for a decade. The vitamin stores. I accidentally got a career!
.... (august 09) My head is on another planet. I'm without a tear, there's none left. She was here yesterday, and again today. Yesterday we sat on the couch and cried together, just hugging and bawling. Today we went shopping. She's all set. I look at what I've done during this time and it seems further and further away from me. It's not that I don't care about it all anymore, it's just that my head is no longer there. Want to know where my head is? Fascinated with the perfection of this. The timing. How it's all dovetailing into one moment. I didn't know that my dark tunnel was so tied-in to And ...then there's the dream I had the other niteI was sitting in a dark room, facing a closed door... but there was a bright light behind the door, I saw it thru the cracks. The door was about to open. It's 12:25 am, she's packing her things at her Dad's and she leaves at 4 this morning. She's never coming back, not to life as she's known it. She's free. I feel guilty for abandoning all this. I keep saying goodbye. I'm a different woman than I was 2 years ago. Not really sure who I am anymore. I worked so hard to tell you who I was, and now here I am with an entire new set of circumstances, thoughts, feelings... but don't worry. I'll spare you. I will leave you with this, though. My daughter is a lighthouse. She carries a
torch within her. I didn't pass it. It just got there on its own. I close my eyes and lean my head back now, I feel relief and release. I exhale and say, I did it. My fruit, it rolls uphill on it's own momentum, it didn't get stuck in the lowest place, and now it goes behind the trees, out of my sight... I wink at you, knowing you know my secrets, those I've shared and those that are yet to be, as I close my book.
.... (may 09) So today I'm taking the next one to the place where they put it on a dvd for you. I'm sure those guys who work there get a good laugh each day. Can you imagine that? Doing that for a job? Sitting and watching people's old home movies? I would love that! Except for the technical part. I shudder at the thought of these guys seeing my old videos that I myself haven't seen in a long time. Years! I haven't been able to watch them, the box you put them in has been lost for years. The box that makes it fit. Fit into what? Nobody has vhs stuff anymore! Do you see why I don't even try to keep up? By the time I catch up electronically, times have changed, and I'm left standing there holding a cord and the outlet is gone. At least that's how I feel. So I have to wait another week till the next one's done. What shall I do in the meantime? I was thinking about making some more stupid cartoon videos. About what, though? Global Warming? Cussing? Trannies?
I just don't know. I'm going to have to think about this. . ...I don't have anything to say. Except that I'm a bit confounded at the moment, my mom came over and she went shopping and got me some shorts, she's always trying to keep me looking decent,
they're really cute but they're a size 9. Since when do I wear a size 9? What's happened to me? When I was at her apartment and not doing a thing, I couldn't keep weight on, and now that I'm working and on my feet all the time, I'm a blimp. Does that make any sense? Somebody I work with said that happens sometimes when you've been sick and then you get better. That would make sense. It's not like I'm eating like crazy or anything. None of my jeans fit right and my face looks like a balloon. This is why participating in the real world is probably not a good idea for me, nor has it ever been. I'm just on another stint, that's all. "Working", or "Employment" as some call it. "Earning a Paycheck." I never truly feel like I'm REALLY doing whatever it is that I'm being paid to do. Know what I mean? Sometimes it seems like my whole world is a farce, and my real life won't be known to me until it's all over with. But back to the size 9 thing. I've never been a size 9. I'm a size 5. That's what I've been since I was 16. It's never changed. I refuse to believe this. Perhaps the answer is to not do the real world thing anymore. Honestly. I'm in the mood to go to some shady trailer park, knock on a random door, and ask whoever opens it if I can move in. Shady, as in under a bunch of old trees. I want to meet interesting people. Carnival people. You know that feeling? When you talk to the ride operators and the ticket takers? Whenever I talk with those people it takes me away to some unseen place in my head. I want to live among them. I want to have an elderly tattooed neighbor with a pet snake and colored lights hanging on a string in his front yard. I want to drink tea with a housebound woman with framed pictures of her dead relatives lost at sea in some war. I want to hear the sounds of children laughing and catching fireflies. I gotta get out of here. What am I doing here? . As it turns out, the shorts are way baggy. Thank goodness. I was thinking all day today, is she trying to drop a hint or something? Anyway I can't be a size nine, because I still wear my size 5 jeans. They're just tight is all. And not everywhere, just around the waist. It's my tummy. I don't know why or where it came from. Well ok I have been relying on McDonald's since I came here, because I told them I'd pay a certain amount and buy my own food. I started out with a small fridge in my room that I got at the thrift store, but it didn't last long. I gave up. I'm back to fast food. That, and 7-11. I love 7-11. I like the fruit and yogurt cups and the little salads. And pizza. I never needed to eat like this until I started existing so hard. This is rough. And it's not even my tummy that's hungry, I think I'm trying to feed my mind. I'll drink a whole thing of chocolate milk just to calm my nerves. At my mom's apartment it was just crackers and tea and the occasional frozen meal. I didn't care, it was all the same. I hardly ate. All I did was sit around with the cat and the laptop. I thought I'd miss it but as it turns out, I don't.
The other thing I'm happy about (besides not being a size 9) is the fact that my second video is ALREADY DONE!!!! And I just took it there yesterday. I guess the guys up there got bored or something. It's ready early. I'm off tomorrow so that will be my project for the day. I was wondering how much they pay greeters at Wal-Mart? I sometimes think that's all I'm good for at a store is saying hi to people. I spout off knowledge but it's a robotic kind of response, it doesn't really come from my current head. It's stored information. Not current information. Know what I mean? I feel guilty sometimes. I'll be talking about fish oil but really my head is thinking about what I want to write about and how I'm feeling. I have two minds. I forgot to mention, lately something has been occuring to me. It's hitting me that I may have forgotten things that I had no idea I forgot. I don't know how to explain it. For example, watching that beach video of Leah has reminded me of so many things, I watch it and I'm like, oh yeah! I remember how I felt during those days. It makes me feel like a mom again. Somehow this is having an accidental therapeutic effect. It's like things are being re-installed on my hard drive in my head. I don't know how to put it. But lately things have been occuring to me that I haven't thought about or cared about in years. I'm feeling more and more complete. Now I'm suspicious as to what all was erased off my brain when it was infected. Did you know, I couldn't even sign my own name on the ER forms on the first day I went? My mom had to do it. I couldn't talk. I was talking just fine at work that day, then it all hit, and by the time I was in the ER I couldn't even get one sentence out. That's when they scanned my brain the first time and found the spot. I wonder if that's the hole all my memories slipped through. I feel really disoriented sometimes. Sometimes it seems like I'm nothing but a cardboard shell, an existing human, that's it. I used to be so connected to all my feelings and thoughts, but now, everything seems so distant. These blogs and voice recordings give me some sense of connection but sometimes I think You don't care about any of this, do you. So are we supposed to be worried about Korea? Tonight I thought about how I would react if a gunman came in to where I was and started shooting. Would I scream? To be honest, the thought of that doesn't even scare me. I'm the one who would willingly take a bullet. For some reason that kind of trauma or stress doesn't scare me. It's the unseen chaos on a personal level that I've had enough of and I go to great lengths to avoid. I'm sorry if I'm rambling but I got into the Shiner Bock again. . Ok. I have watched these at least 50 times today. I'm drinking it in like fine wine. It's hitting the spot. I'm satisfied. To the point of, I'll take it from here. I really don't think I need anybody else to hold my hand through any of this anymore. Not that anyone held my hand. But knowing I've had people with me during this dark time has helped. Nevermind the fact it was mostly raised eyebrows and head shaking and laughing at, not with. So what. I wasn't alone and that means alot to me.
I may not be home yet, but I see the light. I changed my mind about sharing the rest of my home movies. These are mine. Go make or watch your own. love, A.
(march 09) Are you stuck? I was. I hope I'm not still but you never really know. My pan-out camera keeps backing up and showing me the bigger picture on things, so I constantly have to say, oh, now I get it... Several months ago I was quite depressed. During that time I had this vision: I saw a pig, sleeping in a cage. I had no idea what the meaning was, so I asked God to bless that pig and help it. I knew it represented someone, but not knowing who, I asked that God wake the pig up, so at the very least it would know it was in a cage. I guess I could have asked that God set the pig free, but instead, I saw a greater need in the pig: it had no clue that it was imprisoned. I figured that should come first. A couple of weeks passed, and I had another vision~ I saw the same cage, the same sleeping pig, but get this! The pig was no longer little, it had grown big and fat. It was still sound asleep, with a smile. It was lazy sleep. I saw that the bars of the cage were bent and broken... the pig was no longer caged, but it had no idea. It was still asleep, inside the cage. The size of the pig had broken the confines of the cage, but the pig was still inside. Know what I'm saying? Like it busted the cage but still couldn't move. This was a frustrating and disturbing thing for me to see. It was hitting close to home. I prayed about it, and I understood in my spirit, the pig was me. I had outgrown my situation but had no idea. Somewhere along the way I gave up the fight, and fell asleep in some ways. It was easier that way. I'm talking about what I've been dealing with these past 2 years, the health thing. But God was showing me that I have grown fat in the ways I was lean- and that's a good thing! I have been strengthened in so many ways through this. But my prayers to "be set free" were frustrating, I couldn't understand why God didn't just fling my apartment door wide open, present me with a job and a car and yes... Prince Suitable. I was thinking my freedom meant being handed everything back, and on a silver platter. But as I prayed about this vision, God said, "Go- before you are slaughtered." Are you following me? I'm sharing this to maybe encourage someone else out there, who's feeling trapped, stuck, imprisoned in a certain situation. I'm sharing what I just learned: that God wants us to use our strength, our minds, our energy, our prayers, our guts, our determination, our imagination, our passion... to find our way out. He doesn't just reach down and turn some unseen key and say, shoo! We can't sit like a caged animal waiting for release. I was a pig in a cage who, over time and through much soul-searching and rest, grew big and fat and healthy. Freedom didn't come on my terms, so I fell asleep, I gave up. I grew lethargic and lazy. Little did I know, I was free already, my growth is what broke down the walls. And there I was, sound asleep and happy as a
clam. How long would I have remained in that broken cage, if I had not been shown the truth by my Maker? Know what happens to fat pigs? They get slaughtered. In my metaphorical dream world, to be slaughtered is to be attacked spiritually: depression, fear, isolation, anxiety... I plum got up and went. Thank You God. ... Yesterday a guy I work with said, Why do you keep saying "thank you" when you talk? I said, I didn't say thank you. He said, you keep saying it in sign language when you're talking. I was like, what? And he said this motion I make when I'm trying to get a point across means thank you in sign language. People have always laughed at how much I talk with my hands, one store manager said he enjoyed watching me when I talked to customers about internal cleansing and fibers and such, he said whenver I said the word "digestion" I made a strange motion with my hands, it was as if I was pulling on an invisible string or something. He said, Amy, usually one can see the connection in words and how one talks with their hands, but sometimes the motions you make with your hands have nothing to do with the words you are saying. Tell me, what does this mean? And he did the thing I did whenever I said digestion. I just stared at him and laughed. I had no clue. I didn't even know I was doing that thing with my hands to begin with. So anyway, the guy yesterday said, why do you talk with your hands? I said that it was always a habit, but it really increased after the brain infection, when I had trouble getting things out. I'd have a thought in my head, and the words were there, but just not at the same time. I'd start a sentence but the last half couldn't find it's way out. That's when I started doing the "thank you" motion. I just started putting my hand up to my mouth and making a movement like to help the words come out, that's all it was, and I didn't even realize I was constantly doing it. I don't have any trouble getting my words out now, but I still do the hand thing without knowing it. According to this guy, I'm saying thank you, over and over again, as I talk. He laughed at me, I changed the subject, but deep down I knew, my own sign language is yet another sign for me. .. My Betta, Sophie, has gotten bored with his flakes, so I thought he'd like to experiment with some live food. Rather than going to the pet store, I started looking under the rocks in my corn plant, and lo and behold, the potting soil is filled with little white centipedes! They're worms with tiny legs. I scooped one up on a leaf and dropped it in, and Sophie gobbled it up in one bite. So now each morning when my tea is brewing I take a minute and find a worm. My horizons are expanding. I had a dream that I was severing the head off a cat, but not all the way, and I had to do it. I knew it was hurting the cat, but I knew it had bone problems, and this was the only way to get the bones strong again- to force new growth. Also I knew, as I was cutting the kittie's neck, not to go all the way down with the knife. Just go to the center. I woke up knowing this is what I've done with myself. If you have no idea what I'm talking about... But back to live food for the fish. I'm bothered by the fact that I could have been giving him live, fresh food all along. How long have these little worms been in my plant? This makes me wonder, what else am I overlooking? What are you overlooking? This is ridiculous. In my opinion, by the time we're smart enough to function intelligently on this planet, we're dead.
.. I have this thing with appliances: I break them. Unintentionally, of course. Things just happen. I don't know how or why, but all I know is, I would be lost without the maintenance men. Take for example what happened yesterday: when I was getting ready for work, I noticed a slight drip coming from my bathroom sink, underneath. So I put a bowl under it and went to work. It was just a tiny drip. I was going to call the apartments but I forgot. So when I got home last night, I walk in, and all of my belongings are in the entry and the living room, including my nice new curio cabinet! Everything I own is moved out of my room. I open my bedroom door and lo and behold, it's empty, except for the bed, which I don't even use. ( I sleep on the floor on a cushion thing.) As it turns out, after I left for work, the pipes busted, flooded my bathroom and my bedroom, and made it's way down to the apartment below, and they called the apartment office, who sent the maintenance men up here, and they had to tear up the carpet, remove the foam padding, etc etc. I woke up with a headache. I think it's from sleeping in there on damp carpet. I can't use the bed in there because all of my stuff is in bags and boxes on the bed. Isn't that funny? All of my things were already up off the floor, I packed everything up to move a few weeks ago, so none of my things got wet. There wasn't even anything under the sink. So I'm thinking the maintenance guys must think I saw the water bust, got all my things off the floor, then casually left, like nothing happened. I also melted a glass onto the stove at my sister's by turning on the wrong burner recently. And before that, I almost made her house blow up by turning on the water while they were doing a leak test, when the problem turned out to be the gas heater thing. It's a long story. They told me over and over again, DON'T TURN ON THE WATER, and of course I went in the bathroom and brushed my teeth. And I only did that because one of the leak test guys turned out to be someone who used to come in my old work, he managed a fast food place right next to my store, and he'd come in and I'd talk to him about vitamins. Small world! One time I touched a computer and it blew a fuse or something, all I know is, I went up to it, hit enter, and it went black, and the ceiling tile directly above it fell out and onto the computer. I had to call the store owner. He asked how I broke his computer. I said all I did was touch it. I have this thing with machines, appliances,etc etc. It's like an unspoken battle is going on between us. They are trying to do me in, make me look stupid. I am trying to show them that I, as a human being, have no need for them. Well, I do need them, but I don't respect them. I am superior, and they know my thoughts. I will leave you with this fantastic blog on this fine day. You can thank me later.
.. So I come home today and as I'm walking up to my apartment I see this industrial mess all around, and the apartment below me is all open and the maintenance men are hard at work. It would appear that they are replacing part of the ceiling. I think I might have something to do with this. This reminds me of the time I was working at a vitamin store, it was back to back to a sports equipment place and a 7-11. One day the sports store owner walked over and said, Do you think you can stop flushing your toilet until they get the plumbing fixed? Each time you flush, your sewage floods OUR bathroom. I laughed. I had no idea there was even a problem with the plumbing, even though 7-11 got backed up all the time and caused issues for us. I called my store's owner and told him what was going on and he laughed too. Our bathroom remained dry. It just
all went and messed up somebody else's life. I wonder if blogging is sort of like that? Do you know what I'm saying? So now my things are piled up in the living room. They're going to replace the carpet in here in a few days. I'm glad this happened because it seems like I've already moved. My room is no longer my little cave anymore. I remember the day we moved in here 2 years ago. I was still messed up with the brain infection and still sort of dim witted from the seizure medication. I still could barely go up stairs without getting out of breath. Moving day wiped me out, and the first thing I did when we came in was go in this room, find the closet, go in, shut the door, and lay down. Right there on the floor. I had to. My head couldn't stay awake. The mover guys were all over the place and I hoped they wouldn't come in here, but one did. He opened the closet door and there I was, asleep on the floor. He stood there with a puzzled look on his face. I was embarrassed but too tired to think too much about it. So I guess you could say, I woke up in this place. This bedroom is where I woke back up to my life. I'm going to miss it. Or maybe not. .. Today I wasn't feeling so good, so instead of curling up with my blankie and taking a nap, I left for work way early and got me some new things, one of them being a new cute jacket, so I can finally toss the old nasty denim thing I've been wearing. I couldn't even wait to toss it in the dumpster. Instead, it got littered on a dark street on the way home. Right out my car window. It felt good. It landed on the corner so maybe some hapless, cold person will find it and like it. I'm at war with myself again. I want to take off. I want to go away. Far, far away. What am I doing looking for an apartment nearby? Why am I conforming to a normal life? Why do I put these restraints on myself? My daughter is leaving for college this summer. She's heading south. Why shouldn't I? Maybe I can find me a little hole-in-the-wall dumpy apartment or rent house in some obscure town and spend my days off sitting at a lake somewhere, painting. I feel like I'm on the verge of breaking again, but in a good way. Tonight the man with the puffy beard came back in. He said they have snakes where he's from, they come in the house. He said cobras come in sometimes. Can you imagine that? Instead of roaches or mice, you have cobras sneaking in? He said when they come in, you don't move. There's a way to deal with them but it's not by freaking out. The conversation began to creep me out so I excused myself. Well here I am, back to blogging about nothing. Just like I said I wasn't going to do. Well I have a good excuse, my days of having an internet connection are numbered, thank goodness. I'm sitting here in my room, looking at my belongings piled up on my bed. Everything's packed. Where am I going? Does anybody know? Something tells me I won't end up where I plan on ending up. My spirit is pulling me in an entirely different direction than my brain is trying to go in. .. I had a conversation with someone recently, he's not a believer, which to me is a non-issue, I never considered it my business to discuss faith with him or debate with him or try to get him to see things the way I see them. Why? Cause I'm related to him. I love him. I enjoy his company and his conversation. We can talk for hours and laugh. That is until the topic of "religion" comes up. He's pretty hostile about it. I shy away from discussing it, not out of fear, but to keep my own lid on. I think that if my own can of worms gets opened around him, it's sure to escalate. For now, I just prefer to lay low. I like to listen to his point of view on things, and it's educational for me to hear his opinions on why God simply cannot exist. Even though I disagree (and know he's wrong), still, I listen intently and try to see where he's coming from. I respect him and I show it. (no, I'm not talking about my father.)
He, however, has yet to master the art of giving the same in return to me. It's ok. So in dealing with him, I've gotten a better perspective of where atheists are coming from. I understand. I also know that from a sensible human standpoint, the atheist point of view makes perfect sense. But I also have come to realize, they simply have yet to experience the spiritual. This is something I brought up with my relative. He's really knowledgable in financial things, investing, the stock market, etc etc. This is a bermuda triangle area in my life. I have very little interest, knowledge, and understanding when it comes to finances. To me, it's as basic as this: go to work. Earn paycheck. Deposit in bank. Spend some. Save some. Period. I suppose this is why I am nearing 40 years old and still have the mindset of a teenager when it comes to money. I'm smart enough to realize, it's due to my own ignorance. I pointed this out to my relative. I said, I have a feeling that if someone would have taken me by the hand and walked me through the ins and outs of money and investing and what-not, and taught me how to be successful with it, and maybe even enjoy it, and let me experience first-hand the rewards of making a profit- maybe then I would embrace it and want to learn more. But as it stands, I'm an outsider in that realm. I'm inept, I've tried and failed to get ahead financially. So I gave up, and I get by on the bare minimum. He just stared at me and wondered why I was saying this. I told him, I have a feeling this is how you are when it comes to believing in God. You simply haven't experienced the spiritual, or witnessed any miracles first-hand. You don't know Him. Your sensible mind can't fit Him into your own understanding, so you dismiss the whole thing. I honestly feel that this is what's going on, big-picture, with atheists. They don't get it, so they throw the baby out with the bathwater- to hell with it all, it makes no sense! After we had this conversation, the ridiculing tones from him ceased. But it really got me to thinking about it. Why are atheists so quick to mock and ridicule us? Does it make them feel superior? Do they think it actually helps their case? I just want to let it be known that it's hurtful, and unnecessary. There's a way to debate and conversate without putting the other person down. If you really want someone to hear you out, watch your tone and treat them with respect. I see this growing debate between atheists and believers, it seems to have gotten pretty nasty. I wonder if all the stress from the economy is making us all a bit tense. I got some good insight from the guy I was talking with- he was raised in a legalistic, religious kind of way, grew up in a small town. He grew up and moved on, and I think he's associating God with his sheltered upbringing. I get it. I understand why he views believing in God as small-minded and ignorant. The problem is, he's quick to make others who believe feel the same way. All I'm saying is, I think it's time to start listening just a little bit more. .. Ok I just have to tell you this. It's funny. The other day at work this guy was telling me about his friend who keeps having dreams about mommies. I replied that that was cute. He said, that's not cute, it's creepy. I said, how is that creepy? It's sweet! He said that was wrong and I had a problem. We went back and forth like this for several minutes until I said, well I guess it could be creepy, depending on what's happening in the dreams, like, are they coming at him and wanting to change his diaper and stuff like that? He looked at me in dead silence. Then it hit him. He blurted out in his thick accent: "MUMMIES!! I SAID MUMMIES, NOT MOMMIES!!"
I was like, ooohhhh!!!!! and that started me on an uncontrollable laughing spree that lasted for the rest of the day. I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. He was laughing hard too. But it really got me to thinking. About a lot of things. About death, and life. About old, and new. Wasn't Lazarus technically a mummy? And don't mommies bring new life? wait ...I'm thinking, how beautiful! From a mummy to a mommy! It's symbolic of course, but you know what I mean? Do I really have to describe all my thoughts on it this morning or can you just go ahead and pull it all together in your own head? I'm only on my second cup of tea. .. (march 08) Well of course I'd have a stomachache now. I saw it coming but I did it anyway. I didn't "fold box into platform" when I stuck my dinner in the microwave. The strangest thing ever. I had already ripped open the box and removed the contents, only to discover that you're not supposed to rip THAT box. No, this box is supposed to be folded into a "platform" upon which you place your thing (I still don't know what it was that I just ate) (I didn't buy it). You're supposed to follow this diagram and fold all the edges backwards and make a little table. But I had already torn the box, so I put the dinner back inside and stuck it in for the required 3 minutes. It was cold in some places but I ate it anyway. Now my stomach hurts. It was a WAIT I'll go read the box. Alright. It was a Flatbread Melts Chicken Ranch Club. Nobody ever told me I'd have to know Oragami in order to eat. Same for those dinners that aim to control your thoughts by giving too many instructions, like the ones that say, "peel back plastic cover over beans, cut slit over entree, remove cover from apples,", but they don't stop there, it goes on to say, "after 2.5 minutes, stop, rotate, remove cover altogether, stir", then return to oven. I don't play that way. No matter what the directions say, like 3 minutes on medium and 4 minutes on high, it doesn't matter. I just look at whatever numbers are there, add them, and that's that. That's how long my dinner stays in, on whatever setting the oven is already on. I do not have an overflowing abundant supply of extra brain cells to dedicate to solving math problems in the kitchen. When I'm hungry, that's it, I need to eat, no time for dillydallying. I will not be ordered around by the Lean Cusine or Healthy Choice people. What cracks me up is when I hear the phrase "your relationship with food." I didn't know it went that deep. What am I missing? All I know is, it's a burden. To feed something that's dying. Why do we spend so much time trying to keep our bodies going, when it's our souls that are eternal, but the food the soul needs is so elusive and hard to come by? And even when you find it, you still starve yourself? For example, I haven't prayed in about 48 hours. I'm already slipping. Getting hungry. And the Lean Cusine thing only tricks me into thinking I am fed for the day. SEE? Why don't you open your eyes and wake up for crying out loud. You're probably starving at this very minute. You think you want pizza, but what you really need is to pray. This is ridiculous.
I'm very average today. Actually I'm below average. I actually slipped and fell today, which hasn't happened since I was pregnant 17 years ago. It happened due to my slippery bathtub. I've been conditioning my hair alot lately with olive oil and coconut oil to compensate for it's length. I chopped it all off recently and it's ugly, so by making it smooth and supple I feel better. So I fell into the bathtub when I was getting in, it was extra slippery today, and for a minute I was just stunned, it took me a second to realize what just happened. Then I started laughing. I wonder what the people below me think. They're a normal little family and both parents work, but sometimes one of them is home (cause I can hear them), and I wonder if they wonder why someone is always home up here. I bet they think there's something wrong with me. About those people, I always know when they're coming home, cause I hear the kid screaming, and the mom has to shout, GET IN HERE!! ...as in, the kid doesn't want to come home? He's only 2 years old! How can a 2 year old not want to come home? So about me falling today, I was thinking, IS THIS A SIGN???? So I started examining my life on many different layers and levels. I think I'm good for now. Oh! Wait! I just remembered. A tiny black spider was on the computer last night. I have so much to say. Even though I'm done telling my experiences. See now I'm noticing new things about it all, and new twists and turns. My life is a puzzle, a matrix, a labrynth. I'm lost in a dream. Speaking of being lost, I think that's why I love to blog so much. It gives me a connection, even if it's to strangers, folks I'll never meet (nor do I want to)... I think I'm much better at this than I am real-life connections. I don't know why. And I also have no idea why people read the stupid things I say more than the important things.
~ (may 08) See? What did I tell you? I can't do ANYTHING without SOMETHING happening. All I wanted was some cookies so I just went up to Wal-Mart and as I was walking up to the entrance a man was standing there all shifty-like and staring at me and saying things real low under his breath, I didn't look at him and just kept walking, then he walked right up to me and said MMMM LOOKIN GOOD. I stopped in my tracks and turned and faced him and this is exactly how I am going to get into some kind of trouble someday. I couldn't resist. I stood there and said, WHAT DID YOU SAY? He said, I SAID, YOU ARE LOOKIN GOOD. I said, so what are you out here doing tonight? Standing around and making women uncomfortable? He looked at me and got all quiet and then I turned and went inside. I looked back over my shoulder and he was watching me. Which ruined everything. I wanted to have a cookie night. I'm still having it but it's not the same. I'm mad.
I think my mouth is going to get me into trouble one day. But I can't help it. Idiots like that shouldn't be able to get away with that kind of thing. It's not fair and it's not right. You can't win. Even if you ignore them they still harass you. I was at a red light a few years ago and this guy in a convertible to my right was trying to get my attention, he kept going, HEY, over and over, louder and louder, and i kept ignoring him, looking straight ahead. It's the principle of the thing. I'm not going to look over at a guy at their beck and call simply cause they want me to. They just want to see your whole face cause they're bored. I kept looking ahead and he started yelling and cussing at me, he said, YOU GD FU**ing bitch you HAVE NO RIGHT TO IGNORE ME and then the light turned green and he drove off all smokey and loud. Whatever. The truth is, he had no right to harass me. I could tell what kind of guy he was anyway just by the car and the way he was sitting, from the corner of my eye. Dark glasses and a white button up shirt. Not unlike Steve Dallas from Bloom County. Which is my favorite comic. I used to have all the books and would read them start to finish, in order. Like a novel. It really is a long story actually and sometimes it's pretty deep. I used to have a crush on Cutter John and fantasize about being his hippie artist girlfriend with the flower in her hair.
You know what? Something's going on in me. Something's off. I'm all stirred up and feel like I'm going to cave inward unless I explode outward. I am feeling more and more stifled. Also I'm realizing the fact that I really am more of an outcast than what I originally thought. I really do not fit in anywhere or with anyone on this planet. You could even put me with the strangest man on earth and I'd probably still be a misfit to him.
I had a dream last night that made me feel happy but the more I think about it the sadder I realize it really is. I dreamed I met this guy, a whole new guy, he wasn't that attractive to me, in fact he was way too tall and he seemed older than me and I could tell that he was boring, but we started talking, and he leaned in and told me that he had no idea who Elvis was. We were at a restaurant in the dream and a song came on by Elvis and the guy had never heard it. He told me this with a smile on his face and it made me feel so warm, I leaned in and took his arm and I'm not sure but I think I started to fall for him. I woke up feeling all loving. And all day long I've thought about it, why did the fact that he didn't know who Elvis was melt me so much? It's because: he was more out of touch with the real world than me, and it was on purpose. I felt like I finally met someone who saw the world like me. He was an outsider. And come to think of it, I have never met anyone who avoids things the way I do. I never thought to even look into it but I think I might. I mean, look and see if there are whole groups of avoidant people? To me, it goes beyond my faith. It goes beyond avoiding things that might pollute my head. You know what? Even if I were an atheist- I would probably still be against all the filth and crap that the media tries to sell us. Everything. The homes. The cars. The shopping malls, restaurants, fancy vacations, movies, music, all of it! I'm against it because it's all so much a lie. We are sheep and we fuel this grotesque beast that feeds off of us. We're all caught in a vicious cycle and there's no way out. I can't get out of it, even though I'm against it. I need to eat. I need to work and drive and get clothes, therefore I have to go along with it all. But I hate it. I want everything to go away that's unnecessary. Who thinks like this? Is anyone else against it all? How come we all say we are, but we're still watching crap like American Idol and going to Disneyland? What's wrong with us all? Why do we spend all this money on nice homes and luxury cars? I see women driving these beasts on wheels and all I can think is, SUCKER.
So about my older man who didn't know who Elvis was. Do people like this really exist? Not Amish people, either. And not religious fanatics in cults. I mean, normal people who just simply remove themselves from all the trash and wait
I'm thinking I need to move to the country somewhere. Cause I am not going to conform or change. In fact I hope to grow even stronger in my convictions. Where's the real music? How come I never hear real drums and flutes and real singing voices? Aren't people supposed to be humming and whistling or something? Whatever happened to that? Why do we go to the radio? You know what I love? When people who have good singing voices bust out and sing just out of the blue. I've had the pleasure of working alongside a few folks who are talented like that. Yes. I think I might find my people in a more rural setting. There's some areas north of here that are absolutely beautiful and the funny thing is- it's all around the same area God showed me back in 2000! Too bad if you don't know what I'm talking about! Also! the other location to my store (where I might go next) is right off of the SAME ROAD I was on when He showed me! Bethany Road! Puzzle pieces are coming together! But then again what am I supposed to do? I can't even make one paycheck last. I'm having trouble getting back into that. I give rent to my mom and cut a check to the ex and another one to my kid and that's pretty much it. I have a bit left over but not much. It's gone in a flash. I really need to get a grip. I still don't know what I'm doing. At least I got a job.
I think I am feeling the need to belong. More and more. I need to know where I belong. Not just fit, but really, REALLY belong. I need to know that there is a place for me in this world. ... This is so strange. I just realized something. Earlier today I was joking about donating my head to Goodwill, seeing as how I give everything else to them, and then this evening I actually contacted the folks at UTSW in regards to officially donating my brain. I really am going to do it! And for some strange reason I think it's the right thing to do! And not only that, but I think I dreamed about this last year! I had a dream about being deeply involved with a research team there. That's why I got so spooked with the neuropsych guy, I thought they were going to make me their guinea pig, that's why I didn't go along with anything. It has to be on my terms. So now that I know I'm all better and no longer under their whatever it is, I can decide for myself. And today I decided I am going to give them my brain. But the funny thing is, in the dream, I was aware of being researched, so I was alive. Which means I might actually end up participating in something. Which means, I could very well end up as their guinea pig anyway. Wait. Maybe I shouldn't have turned myself in. About turning myself in. Tonight after a hefty Whataburger, my conscience kicked in and I drove past the dumpster pretending to toss in my trash but really needing to fish out the letter jacket. You gotta work quick when you need something out of a dumpster just in case someone is watching. So I got out the smelly jacket and called the ex to see who's it was and he
sounded as it belongs jacket. My idea, that years, but it hit me. almost got
if he had a mild stroke when I told him what I had done, lo and behold, to his dad, it's his "prized possession" track all star super duper question to him was, and just why is this in my care? He said he had no his dad gave it to Leah, when really my ex had coveted it all thru the no, his dad went over his head and gave it straight to my kid. And then It was HER who came to me and asked me to store it!! I can't believe I rid of it! It's all wrapped back up now like nothing ever happened.
I'm excited about the brain thing. It's taking getting rid of things to a whole new level. Is it controlling to not give your whole body? cause I see that as mine. But my head, that's always been out of my own hands anyway. I see it as community property. Well ok that last sentence is a lie but I'm working on it. Actually I'm realizing how backwards this whole paragraph really is but I shouldn't go into details. But this really makes me question some things. I am beginning to suspect myself. I think that I would probably make a brilliant lawyer. If I were more ambitious in the real world that is. See! I just did it again! Am I misrepresenting myself on purpose? There it goes again! Questions I already know the answer to! And look! That right there! Confessing all the time! Look at me! I can't stop! There it goes again! cause I can stop! I just don't want to! I would rather mess with your head! It's only fair. Like it's fair for you to get herpes if you are carelss with yourself and sleep around. It's the same thing. If you get yourself tangled up in the blogs of mentally complex people then you are most likely going to get confused yourself. Wait! another thing! I preach! Help me! Wait look! Asking for help! That's false humility right there! What is going on? wait! Have I been reading too many things lately on bettering your personality? I'm watching my every move! Well somebody has to! Look! Accusation and blame in the form of sarcasm! Another bad habit of mine. What will become of me? Am I doomed?
Something tells me that I've started something by doing this. (donating the brain.) Not sure what. Could be good. Could be bad. Could be good/bad. All I know is I got my whoopy feeling. Shakey/tingly. But you wouldn't understand. Speaking of whoopy. Today at the thrift store I saw a t-shirt that said "I had my birthday party at Mr. Wiggly's!" There was a clown on the front. I almost bought it. But I'd only wear it once then get tired of it. There goes the feeling again. What did I just do? What pickle am I getting into now?
what else can you donate? Maybe I should do the whole body thing. But I just don't think my body would be very interesting to them. I've been trying to think outside the box lately. Expand my horizons. I can't seem to get very far. Am I supposed to be doing more with my life right now? Oh! Did you hear about the new super-internet thing they're working on called the grid? It's supposed to make this one obsolete. Thank goodness. Then I will have a valid excuse not to participate anymore. I can say Sorry I can't seem to afford the grid at this time in my life. I wonder what it will look like. I want off this planet so very badly.
I miss my hair. I can't believe I chopped it off. I am NEVER CUTTING IT AGAIN. I
don't even mind it short as long as I can put it up in a ponytail but I can't even do that yet! Why did I do that? I look like a middle-aged schoolteacher. People are mistaking me for normal left and right. this is awful. With my long hair I can do so much. I can sweep it up off my neck and feel pretty. I can wear it down and play like I'm pretty but really not, it's just that long hair makes you feel that way. I can let it grow out wild again and look like Janis Joplin. I can straighten it like my daughter showed me and look somewhat classy. The options are endless. But as it stands currently all I can do is stick a few bobby pins in and gel up the back and look super dorky. Is that what I intended to do? Does my inner wise woman know something I don't? Is all this fretting over my appearance cause I'm approaching 40? do you know that I will be 39 this year? I can't mentally digest this. There has to be some kind of mistake. I don't feel it. I feel better than I did in my 20's. Exept not upstairs. In my head I feel 60. The rest of me feels 19. I would say 18 but that was one of the shittiest years of my life. Why are you reading this? Should I keep writing? Or stop? Not on this blog. I mean in life in general.
I just found out that the grid is not a thing but a whole new concept. And computers won't be used at all? Or something? How can that be? I remember when I asked my brother in law where the internet was. He got that look on his face and looked at me and said, "Amy. Don't ask that question." You know what is really sad? That my senior-citizen father was the one who showed me how to use the internet. It was sometime in '99 I think. He showed me how to use it and I thought that the yahoo directory was the whole internet. Cause he didn't say "this is my homepage". No. All he did was say, and look! You can look things up by these categories here! So I never looked beyond that for about a year. Then one day my little sister was over and I saw her go to Google and that started a whole new thing. I think it's sad that my dad had to show it to me. And he was the one who got me a computer in '03. And then tried to give me another one when he heard I got rid of it in '06. (he thought the other one broke.) Then my mom getting this laptop. Is this a conspiracy? Why do my parents go to great lengths to keep me in the here and now? What's wrong with being a purist? The only person who recognized that in me was my dead step-grandfather. He told me I was a purist. I didn't know what it meant at the time but it sounded nice. I was in my early 20's when he said it. I loved him more for that cause he said it with a smile. He's the one I accidentally walked in on while he was doing his feeding tube thing and he yelled at me. I couldn't help but stare. He had his pants down and was spooning this substance right into his stomach. It was fascinating. ~ Several months ago I had this vision: A woman, she stood on the beach, facing the still and calm ocean, I did not see her face, but she wore a sarong, tied low upon her hip, long hair flowed gently in the breeze, and in her hand was a book of matches, a tropical scene on the cover, she slowly opened the matchbook and took one match, just one, struck it hard, and in her hand, standing on the edge of the world, facing the ocean, held one lit match, a small fire. There was tension in the air, there was purpose and intent. A fire was lit.
I can hear the faint sound of drums, somewhere off in the distance...
~ (July 1, 2008) why I shouldn’t even leave the house I think I'm just going to start putting my blogs in the "automotive" category to compensate for my lack of automobile in real life. Although temporary, it still has a negative and profound effect upon my psyche on a daily basis. I only go out at night these days. Late. For food. And 7-11. The problem is, that's when the apartment has the sprinklers going. I'm soaked, head to toe, currently, due to side-stepping to get out of the way of one of them, only to stumble into another, that was hidden away in the bushes. I'm all wet, however, I did come home with my goal: sugar. A package of powdered sugar donuts and one KitKat bar. Today the ex described me as "intense and quiet". He also said I suffered from "artism". And that he was always jealous of the artistic brooding intellectuals I was always attracted to. He said it makes him sick how all a guy has to do to be attractive to women is grow really long straight hair, put it back in a ponytail, wear some glasses and walk around with a miserable and serious expression all the time. I think he's just jealous of the thinking kind. I'm saying this in rebuttal for saying I had artism. I know you're reading this Tommy. Well that's about it. I'm all jacked up on sugar now and I'm off to better endeavors. Goodnight. I think this one is telling me I'm blogging too much. some other sites, ALOT, I just seem to be on this mad I get EVERYTHING out, as if some unseen clock is just I'm going to wake up one morning a stump, no arms and blogging enough, so, this morning I dreamed my default pic on this one site was a WINDOW, it was a picture of me but it was also a LIVE CAMERA, and people could just... WATCH me, all the time! Through it! As in, it's a live pic of you, whatever you're doing or wherever you are, the whole world can see. And I dreamed that I was sleeping and dreaming... and I dreamed that everyone was watching me sleep! And I knew I was sleeping and I knew I looked AWFUL! And so I actually talked in my sleep, I heard myself, I said, "NO!" and I held up my hand and shielded my face. From the "camera". And this is exactly how I awoke: to my hand in the air, shielding my eyes. I'm awaiting my daughter's take on this one. She has witnessed one too many of my nighttime shenanigans. I used to sleepwalk constantly. I talk in my sleep. I do and say strange things. Should I tell you, I once gave away my house key in my sleep? I dreamed that I was giving my key to someone, standing in the kitchen, I remember taking it off the keyring in the dream and handing it to them. And when I I've been writing alot on furious mission to make sure tick tick ticking away and no legs and I'll regret not
woke up the next day- guess what- my house key was missing off my keyring. I searched high and low for it, even rummaged thru the trash. Never found it. But this could probably be blamed on the fact that I was taking Ornithine each night as part of a liver flush I was doing. Makes you have strange dreams. Speaking of liver flushes. If you've never done it you might want to consider it. You have to drink a whole cup of olive oil though. And take this stuff called orthophosphoric acid- OPA at health food stores- and it breaks down stones in your liver and gall bladder. If you're a normal healthy person you can do this and the next day SEE BLACK AND PURPLE stones. You know where. Look it up! I'm for real!
I’m the most one-sided person on the planet ...with my blogs. I love to comment on other people's blogs but I shrink back in fear at the thought of other people leaving their mental deposit upon my words. It's distracting. I think it all goes back to my father. No really. No, really! I never could speak! Never could finish a sentence/thought/idea/opinion with him. It was ALL WRONG. Every last bit of it. If it came from my head, it was wrong, stupid, and pointless. That is, if he even heard what I said. This really did have an effect on me. And I'm not all brooding, hating my dad. I love my dad. I just am aware of how he influenced my personality, good and bad. He's also the main reason I became a ticking time bomb over the years and finally exploded with all this writing. I was trained to "keep quiet". That believing in God was "weak". To this day it's a forbidden subject. I think if he knew what I was really all about he would have a heart attack and die. I sometimes wonder what I would have turned out like if I were actually ENCOURAGED to speak my mind. Maybe I wouldn't ever have. Do you speak your mind? Or do you even care? See? You probably don't even care. Most likely cause your opinion mattered. WHATEVER. PUNKS!!!
so here’s the deal with my situation ..just so I don't have to go thru the whole dern thing over and over again...OK as I have shamelessly and with no remorse announced to the entire planet, I had some serious health issues that started about 2 years ago, had to stop working in Dec. '06 due to seizures & all kinds of neurological stuff going on, a lumbar puncture (FREAKING SPINAL TAP... run for your life if they ever try to do that to you) ... revealed WEST NILE VIRUS. And my whole brain was inflamed and swollen and the whole thing messed with my right leg, I limp sometimes for no reason. I'll spare you further details but it took me a year to heal up, and I haven't had any serious problems since then up until just about a month ago, when some of the stuff decided to return. So I had to stop working again. BLAH BLAH BLAH, my point is, I'm ok, but as it turns out, whatever's going on with my nervous system is not going away, it comes in waves and when it hits I can be pretty miserable. The only way to describe it is it's like all the lights are turned off in your head, and it's all you can do just to focus on one thought, and all you want to do is sleep. These strange attacks seem to last for about 3 to 4 weeks and then go away like
nothing ever happened. The freakiest thing is my leg, which totally goes out on me during these storms, I walk like a drunk old man. Then I slowly regain my strength and it's back to normal, like it is now. It's just so unpredictable. Also! I forgot to say, my short-term memory was damaged with the brain infection, in fact a MRI revealed scarring right there in the middle of the left temporal lobe in the memory center. Which makes my life even more interesting to say the least. But! Here's the fun part- it's only sometimes. It comes and goes. One day I'll be right up there with Einstein (no really) and the next day I can barely think about the basics, such as eating. I have no appetite at all when this goes on. I had to get some of those old people canned nutrition drinks just to force some calories into me. I lost about 5 pounds this last time around. Why am I telling you all of this? Cause I want to tell you why it's so important to me that I keep writing. I feel like I need to do it when I can. And my memories are just that much more important to me now. My whole life is that much more important to me now. I see things differently. And I am not one of those miserable people all hung up on their medical junk- in fact if anything I have a tendency to sweep it all under the rug- out of sight, out of mind- but I'm telling you this also cause I hope to encourage you, whoever you are, to be thankful for your brain. Are you thankful for your brain? No? Never thought about it before? Well then I am the new advocate for your brain. The Mental Ambassador. I am here as a representative for your mental functioning and I am here to tell you that you should value your every thought and every memory and every life experience. And you should listen to me cause I know what I'm talking about. That's all. you know what? Hi. I just want to say, has it ever crossed your mind that you could wake up tomorrow morning with the ceiling on your face, all crumbled up cause a tornado blew through? And took out your electricity? Leaving you with no internet? And while you're clearing the debris away and trying to blindly fumble through the dark, you drop your cell phone down the garbage disposal and accidentally turn it on? Leaving you without any form of communication whatsoever, no contact with the outside world? And to make matters even worse, you finally get outside only to discover that everyone has left town in a hysterical mass exodus due to an approaching firewall from an atomic bomb. And then, you will have no way to communicate and no one to speak with or to, nobody at all, it will be too late, and everything you had stored up/brewing inside of you for the past decade, all these unspoken things you wanted to say but never did... now, they will never be uttered. Never. And you will be like a time bomb that never got to go off. And you will die very frustrated and miserable. So listen. My advice to you today is to take action IMMEDIATELY and start talking. Get it out. I would do it now while there's still time. This message has been brought to you today by the letter A. .... (may 08) I have so much to report. For starters, since I'm not dragging my chain around anymore, these here are
First you need to understand, since I sort of got discombobulated with my chain, I formed a circle, turning the chain into a wheel, and these here little ditties can be spokes. Or spurs even. So that's why I can keep talking if I want to, even though I said I was "done." The chain.snake.tunnel ordeal is done. But my mouth is not. Do you understand? And I was thinking, since I made a wheel, and these are spokes, if I stand back and see it from a distance does this mean I'm building a wagon? And if so, am I really in some kind of western ghost town? Are you real? Am I? Do you see what a tangled web this has become? Are you willing to take responsibility for your part in this?
Now then. Now that I've gotten that out of the way. It's just that I don't know what kind of whacked-out nut would take the time to look for me here. But now that you're here, alone with me, I'll get straight to my update. There's so many things to fill you in on. For one thing, this ironing thing has grown into a beast. I don't know how long I can keep this up. I don't have a problem with ironing say, once a week or so, but this is starting to take over my free time. Not only that, but the shirt that I ironed the sleeve shut on seems to be waging its own war against me. The wrinkles WILL NOT COME OUT, no matter what. Cool iron, hot iron, it matters not. It is permanently wrinkled. So I went to the thrift store today and found the cutest new teacup! It's big and chunky and hand-made. The cashier referred to it as a bowl, but it's not. It has a handle. It's my New Cup, meaning, all others are in imminent danger of the dumpster. Speaking of the dumpster, guess what I did today. Threw away the letter jacket. Who's letter jacket? You got me! Who knows! That's the thing! Why has this nasty thing been wrapped up in plastic and in my care, stuffed in one of my storage boxes all these years? Who does it belong to? All I know is, I have a faint memory of saying "yes I'll store it for you" to someone. I also have a feeling it has to do with my ex. But I don't think it's his. He never had a letter jacket. But anyway, I freed myself of it today. It now sits crumpled up in a trash bag among some old hard boiled eggs that I had to toss. My mother boiled up a bunch of them before going to the beach last week. Why? I have no idea. She never touched them. A few days ago as I stood in my bathroom and looked at all my jewelry, I decided, no, I changed my mind. I would rather not be decorated. So I bagged all of it up and gave it all to a coworker. She has another job, at a lockdown facility for troubled kids, and she has to dress up for it. She liked it all and I was more than happy to pass it on to her. I am now free. I really don't know what i was thinking by buying all of it. I now own: zero pieces of jewelry. I'm thinking my brain can be my sparkly jewel. Speaking of my brain. You know what I decided to do? Donate it to science. For real. They can't have my whole body though. But I was thinking about signing one of those forms for when you die, telling them what they can dig into. I'm going to donate it to UT Southwestern. They're the ones who were after me to begin with, and I opted out of their west nile research program.
I sort of feel guilty about that but see, I think the study would have involved more spinal taps. In fact I know it would have, the neuropsychologist said so. But he said, "it would be the right thing to do". Well, I don't see it that way. I have permanent nerve damage from the one they already did on me. But the thing is, I have an extremely high level of west nile antibodies in me, enough to help with "the research" as he put it. When they found it in me, they said the levels were so high, that I either had a recent acute infection, or a chronic long-term infection. They said that will always be the case in my blood and maybe in my spinal fluid. I can't participate in more testing, it was humiliating. I had to do timed tests and solve puzzles and do a timed finger tapping thing (I apparently failed that one, they said I had "mild motor ...wait I forgot....motor.....
..something to do with motor skills. Like I didn't go fast enough. Who's to say how fast is fast enough on an invented wooden electric wired-up finger thing? Who invents these things?
What was I saying? Wait let me just say, I am highly caffeinated right now due to a full cup of strong tea out of my new tea-bowl. That's why I am talking your head off.
About my brain. I want to go ahead and let them have it when I die. Mainly for selfish reasons. I am hoping they'll look at the scarring/mystery place on the left side, just tear it on open and look at it and see for sure what it is. I want to know. I got divebombed by a bird yesterday! On my way to the car. Just from out of nowhere, this flapping and screeching, I look and it's all making a big scene right above my head! I shood it away and it flew off, and I just stood there, then heard laughing from across the parking lot, it was my friend the maintenance man, he saw the whole thing and he yelled out, "haha that bird no like you!!!" Is this a good update? Or were you expecting something different? I was going to get back into clay, but changed my mind. A chain reaction in my head discouraged me. Here's how it goes: 1) get clay 2) can't afford kiln 3) and even if I could, it would run up electric bill too high, so 4) get into pit-firing, but 5) have to dig the pit in someone else's yard, most likely my father's, so 6) I with fire even wire start going over there all the time and have too much fun, go swimming, play the dogs, drink wine, and start throwing too many organic substances into the (it creates all kinds of tripped-out colors to happen on the clay) (you can put dog poo in there) (also you can throw salt in there and leaves and copper even, anything really), and
7) due to the relaxed state of mind induced by combination from pool/dogs/wine I get carried away and get careless and put something very toxic in there and 8) poison myself slowly and 9) infect my brain again and 10) die.
So this is why I have advised myself to stay away from clay right now. which leaves me just as bored as ever, but that's ok. I'll survive. I'm trying to apply myself more to my job, and sometimes it works. My sales are increasing and I'm just now finding out the joys of commission. On a good night I can really do some damage. Oh about damage. I went ahead and purchased that broken bottle of Colon Cleanse. Sheer guilt.
I have alot more to report but I'm making myself tired. Just go make something up. Entertain yourself. ... (July 08) To all you creeps who hide behind fake accounts and try to talk with me, just so you know- I smell creeps and I know when I'm being lied to. Ever watch Judge Judy? She has this thing~ she can sense deception. She says the hairs on the back of her neck stand up when she's being lied to. I can relate. I can detect a fake account HOWEVER I go along with it for a little while because there's a reason you felt the need to reach out to me, and you are going to get something in return although it's not generally what you wanted. Are you following me?
Role-playing is not for me. My real life is hard enough, I don't need the added confusion online. You creeps have nothing better to do than to play games online. My chain of profiles is not a game. It's the only way I can save my words. I've explained it before- I have a bad habit of deleting my blogs- so what I do to save them from myself is fill up a page, then lock myself out by changing the password to something I can't remember. I do it because I need to preserve everything I've said during this time. I'm not here to be fed. I'm here to feed. I got stuff to share.
But about you creeps. Feel free to follow me. But don't be surprised when I ignore your attempts to get my attention. I have exposed myself in total honesty. Speak to me in honesty in return or not at all.
I just woke up from the worst dream. I dreamed I was seeing this guy, or wait, we had been seeing each other or maybe even married, but no longer together, and he sent over a pitcher of vitamin water for our food. Actually it was 2 pitchers. 2 blue pitchers of cheap kool-aid looking water and it wasn't even stirred up right, it was supposed to be vitamin kool-aid or something, but I looked at it and could tell he barely put one thought into it. And these 2 pitchers were a substitute for "child support". So in the dream my daughter was hungry and walked for miles to a Whataburger. After she was gone for about 30 minutes I called her and she still hadn't gotten there, so I told her I'd leave right now and come catch up with her and we'd eat together. And then I woke up. I woke up with that disturbed feeling about her, that feeling that she might not have all of her needs met, that troubling feeling I get when she's outside of my hands. I called her and she was flipping the breakers to the house cause the lights went out or something. I told her I loved her and to call me if she needed anything. What I wanted to say was, Honey I am so sorry I was with a man who sent us vitamin kool-aid instead of some real solid food. I wonder if I dreamed this because well I have remained single for about a decade because well for all my own hang-ups, really it has to do with my daughter. I'm very protective of her and have been sort of waiting until she was older until I get involved with anyone. I've been waiting until all I had to worry about was myself, and not her- as in, how will they get along? Will he be good to her too? Will he include her and treat her as his own? Because that's right and fair and I should not have to ask for that. I am overflowing with maternal instinct and any child remotely near me gets treated as my own. Yes I do expect the same thing in return. Anyway. I've waited this long only to discover, there's a whole new set of circumstances to be aware of... But what I was saying- in this dream, the guy I had been with is someone I knew in real life, and I woke up so glad I never got involved for real. I think dreams are a reality check. They bubble up from your subconscious mind and the stories they present are your true thoughts and feelings coming into light. You really should pay more attention to your dreams. I, for one, ask myself, Amy, why was there no food in the house to begin with? See? It all comes back to my own faults. I need to keep my head screwed on tight the way it has been for the past decade, and that means not relying on other people to make things right or better. I really don't know how to trust a man for anything. I wonder if that will change when parenting is no longer a concern. But then again, being a parent is sort of like quality control, it forces me to take all that into consideration.
I know that dream is not about food for real. It's about watered-down substitutes vs. solid and real provision/contribution. I don't know how to put it into words. I've never really addressed this topic in a blog before so I don't have my words/thoughts arranged right just yet. I'm being honest with my feelings for the first time. And also standing up for what's right in a relationship. I no longer feel guilty for expecting a man to be a part of my daughter's life. I don't care
if she's almost grown. You can still forge a friendship and somehow convey to her that you are there for her, even just for a listening ear. I am tired of giving and not receiving. I've dated so many guys with young children and I cared for them and bonded with them as if they were my own, and not only that but enjoyed it. My daughter however remained on the sidelines with all of them. Men are on the lookout for women who are financial leeches- and they should be. Men guard their resources. Listen to the flipside. Listen. A good woman does not always come with a spiffy career and a fat bank account, but chances are she comes with more than enough love for your kids. That's a resource as well. Do you take that for granted? Valuable things don't always come with dollar signs. So just like a smart man, I am a smart woman, guarding my resources and refusing to share them with just anyone. The one who sees the value to the hidden things wins. How many catches can one human being come with? Last time I counted I had at least 9 catches. I really am in a pickle when it comes to meeting and talking with new people. How much do I reveal? Do I make light of the facts of my life? Or do I sweep them under the rug? The rug that doesn't even exist, because I own nothing? (catch number 4) I looked at Christian networking sites. I would be bored to tears. I cannot relate. I fit in worse with those folks than I do a wholesome batch of Satanists. I say "wholesome" because they're real. No false fronts. Except for the kids who make their face look like they've been gnawing on a carcass. I'm assuming that's supposed to be blood around their mouths? In the pictures? Do you want to know all my catches? Just for fun? They are: (in no particular order of importance) 1. west nile- unpredictable symptoms that appear from out of nowhere 2. unemployed- no money 3. no car 4. emotional artist to begin with 5. nobody wants to date a "psychic" (that's what the non-believers think it is) 6. questionable fertility status 7. sordid past 8. compulsive need to share sordid past 9. chop off hair really short when a guy makes me mad, it's an ever-present threat
there's lots mo oh!
10. I can't cook 11. I hardly eat 12. very small bust 13. if I don't get enough sleep I cry the next day 14. I'm not interested in most things 15. I can't lift heavy things anymore (basically I'm useless) 16. I win all arguments/debates
do you see? I really am doomed. All kidding aside, I am doomed.
17. I own nothing and have not yet overcome my desire to throw things away 18. my idea of a fun shopping spree is the thrift store 19. golf/football on tv puts me to sleep- right there on the couch. (golf especially) 20.
there's more. I might add on to the list as I think of them.
21. questionable life span- depending on how fast my body decides to crumble 22. painfully narrow-minded 23. I am a vampire when in love 24. if a guy does not bring out the vampire in me, I'm not interested, sealing my fate as an unhealthy-relationship junkie 25. I can soak in the bath for over an hour 26. the highway stresses me out 27. even though my daughter is almost out of school I still need to stay somewhat near here cause all my medical stuff is with the state hospital due to the fact of my years of renegade-living-sans-health-insurance landed me there, thus, cancelling out my fantasy to move far away one day 28. I can eat more red meat than a man in one sitting
29. the only things I have pierced are my ears 30. tattoos scare me, I am not a canvas nor will I ever be 31. I think it's ok for dogs to sleep in the bed with you 32. normal men turn me off 33. I find all aspects of the prison system fascinating and can get lost in the documentaries and also find myself seriously attracted to the wait
34. my dream vacation involves touring Auschwitz 35. I'd much rather go to the library than the mall 36. if I sleep with a pillow I wake up with my head all funky 37. I limp when I'm stressed, and lately for just no reason at all 38. I hit curbs 39.
I spent Saturday night at my dad's house & Leah came over too, we swam, soaked in the hot tub, talked about school, college, boys, and we prayed for one of her friends who got pregnant and the guy who did it sent 2 big thugs over to her house, grabbed her as she was standing on the porch and beat her so that she would miscarry. She did. While sitting at my dad's table he said, Amy I got you a present. And he handed me a new sketchpad and a real nice art set, the kind I used to have in my college design courses, the wooden box that opens to reveal a myriad of colored pencils, pastels, watercolors, charcoal, sharpeners and erasers. I started to tear up when I looked at all the colors but I can't cry in front of my dad so I closed it back up, latched it, brought it home, leaned it up against my wall where it sits as we speak. It's watching me. It's waiting. I've been overfeeding my fish lately because it's so much fun to watch him devour these new flakes I got him. I didn't know he'd like them so much. You drop one in and he slowly swims over there, hovers real still directly underneath it for a moment, eyeballing it. Then in one sudden whoosh he lunges up and devours it, shaking it around like a lion killing a
I can't think of what lions kill on a regular basis, I almost said yak but I think yaks are too big, and I make myself tired each time I have to search my mental files for stored information.
(march 08) Why don't you try being me for a day and see how well you get by. Today I’m not in the mood to make light of the fact that my entire life is nothing but a series of events that rival being hit by a wayward motorboat driven by a flaming drunk lunatic each time I attempt to tread water in the ever-lovin’ Sea of Life. Today I’m going to tell you what it’s like to exist on this planet as me. Well, ok, just one aspect of being me. The thing. The thing God has given me. The thing that clues me in on certain things ahead of time. It’s a gift and I do see it as such and I do understand it. But when I mentally compare myself to other humans I get just a tad bit insecure, defensive, and shaky in the proverbial knees. In order to successfully operate as me, you must be broken. I can only get by with a smile now, because I have been broken by life and by God and probably by you as well. Before my mental blowout I was really suffering. The gift was intensifying but I had no place to put it in my head, I was stressed and burdened and trying to support my daughter and myself, alone, all the while being shown the depths of heaven and hell in my dreams and visions, some things pertaining to me, some things pertaining to others, some things pertaining to life as we know it and certain events that are looming, unseen events that is. I don’t make predictions. No. What God shows me every now & then are glimpses into the spiritual state of things. Warnings. Teachings. And even things that comfort and uplift. I’m not one of those folks that goes around saying there will be an earthquake next month. In fact I could care less if there were. But back to being broken. If people notice that I’m a little bit “off”, or loopy, disjointed, kooky… it’s all part of my Sanity Insurance. God had to allow me to be broken in order to be able to handle what He’s doing with my life. After the brain infection and spending the last year unemployed, recovering, and writing, some major changes have taken place, not only in my body but mentally and emotionally as well. How can I describe it to you? Basically I am UNABLE to mentally wrap my mind around certain big things He’s shown me. I can’t ponder them too much anymore, all I am able to do is understand and accept, share what I’m supposed to, keep to myself a few things, and keep going, down this odd but beautiful and amazing path, until the day I get to go home.
I guess today I have one thing in particular on my mind, and that’s something heavy He’s shown me, and it has to do with me personally. He was very nice to clue me in. If I told you what it was you would not believe me. Moreover, if you were shown this and it had to do with you, you might not still be sane and smiling. But He’s given me a peace, a deep, deep peace. In fact, come to think of it, back in the mid-90’s a minister said to me that “God will give me a supernatural peace that surpasses all understanding.” When I first heard that, I thought it was just referring to my ability to get by in life. But no. Now it’s dawning on me what that alluded to. I can’t even tell my family. I’ve only told one soul, and not even directly. I’m just hoping he gets it. I’m not even sure if I really want him to believe me or not. I think I’m secretly wishing he discredits me a little and thinks I’ve gone off the deep end with that one. Actually, if he ever brings it up, my response will be, “maybe it was just a bad dream.” That won’t be lying. Well this new blog is nice. It’s simple. I do believe I might stay on this site and play for a little while. Love! Amy ...
(Thursday, May 22, 2008) Yesterday afternoon there was a dove sitting on the railing out front. I just opened the front door and there it was, just a few feet away from me, if I leaned forward I could probably touch it, and it just sat there, with it's dark rounded eyes, calm, just looking at me. I would say from the corner of its eye but they were too round to have corners. So I just stood there looking at it. I even said Oh hello! And it just sat there. I shut the door and then opened it again real fast, nothing. It still just continued to sit there and look at me. Sort of like a movie scene or something. Or a cartoon. The reason I kept opening the door was to see if it would startle and fly away, which it didn't. Which means, I can go ahead and take that as a sign. No! You don't understand! Birds are special. And that dove was a sign for me: PEACE. For me personally. Don't laugh. Don't make me get into everything right here with you on this average Thursday morning. Don't make me turn this Thursday into more than it needs or wants to be. And I do sense a new peace. About alot of things. I'm understanding something new, too. That this brain deal just might be my very last obstacle to overcome. My very last hurdle. And it's a new form of hurdle: it cannot be overcome and done away with. This is something that I am going to have to live with, for the rest of my life. I cannot control it. I cannot pretend it doesn't exist. I cannot walk away from it. What I've been feeling lately about it is some sadness. I never even felt anything about it until recently. It never even occured to me that this would impact me how it has, cause come to find out, it affects not only me, but every situation in my life. My job, the people in my life, everything. It has an effect on everything, even if it doesn't show. This is outside of my hands and it's not going away. I've had one or two tears
trickle down with the words MY BRAIN written on them. A real surprise. I was like, where did THAT come from? Have I ever cried about something to do with my body? Ever? Even as a little girl I never cried or was scared about my surgeries. I cried about my foot but only when the girls teased me. I'm going to have to find a way to maintain a peaceful outlook on it all. I'm going to learn to laugh at myself more and more. As if I don't do that enough already. But no, look. Look at what I did last night. I was at work, and wanted a slice of pizza, so I left the store and headed towards the food court. In the wrong direction. In the mall I've been working in for almost 2 months now. I completely forgot which way it was. I went blank. I thought maybe I was going the wrong way, so I stopped and turned around and started going the right way, till I questioned that too, and turned around again. Then I finally asked a security guard which way the food court was. I did finally get a slice of pizza. But what I'm saying is, my brain misfires and I can sometimes go blank. Not stupid. Just memory lapses. There is a difference. Last night I started to tear up about this but then I remembered the dove. So. I'm going to be at peace. And that's that. Feel free to be at peace too, ok? With whatever you need to be at peace about. How about we all just be at peace. Not try to be peaceful, but BE AT PEACE. There is a difference. I think that's all I wanted to say this morning. I'm still waking up. There's alot to process when you have something hit you upside the head. After the brain infection I have really had to deal with lots of changes, on every level. Getting your head messed up is very different from breaking your leg or getting some disease. No. When the trouble is in your head, even if it was just a simple infection, it somehow expands to other areas of your being, mainly cause your head is the central thing. Headquarters. At first I couldn't process anything at all. All I could do was sit in the dark and try to think. And sleep. Then, six weeks into my Depakote prescription I woke up one day and flushed them all. And that's the day I got on myspace and started talking. Well actually I had a dream the night before but that's another blog. I've had to change everything, and mentally accept the different ways people treat me and how they view me. I'm not so different than I was before. In fact, on most days, it's like nothing ever happened. But then I have days where my brain just simply won't cooperate. And this snowballs into my emotions. I'm still trying to get a handle on it emotionally. My pride was hit. It's hard to be slow. Not that I'm slow all the time, just sometimes. And there's no warning. My brain is doing it's own thing and it never tells me ahead of time what kind of day it's going to be. I'm not really sure what I wanted to say to begin with, but all I really want to say is that I'm still me, I'm still just as genius as ever, and my issue is only physical. My spirit hasn't been touched. How can I say it? Basically, it's a nonissue. I'm no less a person and I'm certainly no less a woman. In fact, in many ways, I've actually been STRENGTHENED by this. It's forced open my stubborn mind and caused me to see things in different ways. Hear me now, people. Hear me. You know those mutant hairs that either you or someone you know and love has? Or, you might occasionally spring one, but you don't claim it or tell anyone about it?
I know you know what I'm talking about: A hair, it seems to come from out of nowhere, it grows in a random spot on your body and gets long and wiry and it does it's own thing. Sometimes you notice it and catch it early, sometimes you don't. This is mainly true for the ones that might grow out of a mole, on your back. My brother had a mutant hair that would appear on his right shoulder, it was so funny, it was long and blonde and it would be several inches long. He'd leave it, just to be funny. Our old dog Simba had one that grew from between his eyebrows, it arched up and over and we'd have to pluck it or else it dangled in front of his eyes. I have a semi-mutant hair on my left arm, it's blonde but can grow extremely long if I don't pay attention to it and get it. It's just hard to see which one it is cause all the hairs are blonde. I also have a tiny spriggy mutant hair that comes from a mole on my back, it's hard to reach but I finally mastered the art of tweezing from behind. All this to say, I had a strange dream the other night- I had a 3-ft long mutant hair growing out of my stomach! It was so weird! And get this: the very tip of it was a different material! It was- COPPER!!! Not the very tip, but like half and inch up, it was maybe an inch of copper, then the rest was regular hair. And it made me think of when I used to work at this health food store where a nurse would come in and set up her table and offer hair analysis, she'd take a snip of your hair, take it to the lab and have it checked for mineral/heavy metal content. Which I thought was funny. To have heavy metal content in your hair. So in the dream, I sensed that out of a very long strand of hair, only a small fraction was copper (the body eliminates heavy metals through your hair, stupid) (in case you didn't know that), and I felt that more of it should have been copper. The copper was of value. It had been inside me, and the hair represented what comes out of me. And! This ties in with another dream I had about two years ago- serving up plates for people, placing the meat in the center and then heaping mounds and mounds of side dishes and deserts on top, covering the meat. I knew this was showing me my style of sharing, but I never thought twice about it cause I think it's fun. You know. Heap lots of fun on top of and around the important stuff. Know what I'm saying? I don't mean to hide the meat. In fact you'll get to the meat if you keep eating. But- now this- the hair. I think God is telling me that I should probably goof off a whole lot less and try to get to the point more often. You have no idea what I'm saying, do you. Fine. See if I share my dreams with you anymore. So after the small-copper-fraction-in-the-hair dream, I woke up and decided to say some things that have been stored up in my head and heart for a long time, brewing, simmering, hidden away. And all I can say is, I feel tremedous relief. I just don't know what to do about this. Should I only start reporting and sharing meat? Copper meat? If I did, would you read? I highly doubt it. I see myself as one of those middle aged portly smiling women with a hair net behind the glass shield at Luby's, I'm standing there with a big scoop and watching you come through the line, and my job is to scoop up hefty portions of grub to fill your belly and I have total faith that you will eventually come to the meat. And this is exactly where I'd post a chain link. That is, if I were still dragging my chain around. And there! I'd say, what, you don't know about my chain? And I'd put another link right here. Well now I have to post a link, cause I can't just bring something up and then not follow through or else I'd be a tease. But I
promised myself I was free from the chain. Unless.... I got it. Did I just say chain link? Isn't that what fences are made of? If I continue to post links, I'm erecting a fence. A fence to TO KEEP ME OUT! See! It can work! I can post a fence to keep me from going back and dragging the chain. It's the responsible thing to do. Wait. This blog is going too slow to start with all that. I'm enjoying the peace. Wait. Maybe I won't do any more links. When I do, I get carried away and start adding my blog to all kinds of sites and then I get strange people reading, sort of an uncomfortable feeling yet I can't get enough of it. Now I know how nudists feel. They probably hate themselves naked and think, I am never going to show my body in public, and that is the VERY REASON they go and do it. It's all in your head. Look. I just talked myself out of it. I'm just going to blog here every now & then like a regular person. my dream two nights ago: I saw my brother, laying down, sound asleep, and I laid down right beside him and put my arm around him and closed my eyes too. It was peaceful and we were together. I could smell him and sense him.
I am the most responsible person on the planet. It's official: my mortal remains now belong to Science and all that that entails. I can't believe what a good thing this is. When you die, all it takes is one phone call and they handle the rest. They even come get you. Then when they're done, they cremate you. No money involved. No retarded funeral service, no wasteful coffin, no nothing. A complete gift to your loved ones. I think everyone should do this. So when I go, that's that. I told my mom she's now my official next of kin. She knows how to do these types of things. You know after experiencing my brother's funeral, I don't want anything to do with them ever again. We were going to go over to my dad's this evening but he cancelled. Actually he called my brother in law and told him to tell me. My dad won't call me on my phone. Actually my dad won't call me, at all. And whenever I've had my own place, he wouldn't come over. Except for one time when I lived in the white house he came over with my mom when I wasn't home and took a chair. So now I'm sitting here eating cookies and playing with a new dog that my sister just got. She has ticks in her ears but she's really sweet. They got her from a shelter. If you have read all of this blog, you have no life.
Alright. That's it. This is how it's going to be: the new state of affairs with my head is a done deal, set in stone, a non-issue. My new parameters. My new framework. My new head. It's what's for breakfast. Ok I have some things to report. For starters, I got a new t-shirt at the thrift store today, it's pink and it says EVERYBODY PRETEND TO BE NORMAL. If this is not a beautiful find I don't know what is. Secondly, I met a man last night who is bipolar really bad, he actually takes lithium, he just moved here from California and he said he deliberately went without his medication so he could drive for
three days straight without sleep. This has me a bit concerned. I knew we had to always be on the lookout for drunks but now this. I did find him highly entertaining though, although it seemed that his eyeballs were on the brink of exploding right out of his head when he spoke. It was if he was on the verge of something. I'm always on the verge of something too but not like he was. I would have considered him cute but I have a mental block with non-Texan guys. Especially when they ask ME for directions. He actually asked me how to get to the hill country area. (I had to inform him of it cause he said Texas was flat and not so much to see.) So I told him to just go south, he'll get there. He got all excited at the prospect of it. Poor guy. He better get a grip, and fast, if he wants to survive here. If I can get a grip, anyone can. I had my certification test today at work and only missed two questions. So now I'm certified. (again.) (they don't know about the other one. I never tell new jobs that kind of thing) So now I am doubly-certified and at your service. Never mind the fact the store might close soon. Heck, I might close soon for that matter. My new coworker had to work at another location tonight and told me they have cops on sedgeways there and it was funny, when they go fast they lean forward. I envisioned this and thought, would I be intimidated by a cop on a sedgeway? The bikes were one thing, now this? What next? Hovarounds? Wheelchairs? Crutches? Wouldn't that be funny? Cops on Crutches? I just think a sedgeway strips them of something they need. They'd be better off walking. Image is important. Also! I got the official paperwork for donating myself when I die! I can't wait. I laughed when I saw it in the mailbox. I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm not going to tell anyone till after the fact. (blog readers don't count.) I'm signing away everything. All of me. I feel very liberated for some reason. In control. Getting my head wrapped around some things. Lots of things. Deep things, light things, and everything in between. You should consider donating yourself as well. But you can start by donating everything in your house that you haven't used in a year. We all need to keep getting rid of things. I am so tired of looking like the crazy one here. I'm sick of it. I'm right, and I've been right all along. Also! Good news. You can rest assured, I am here for you. I changed my mind about not blogging anymore. However I will not be dragging my chain around anymore. I have no idea where I'm going from here. Probably not very far. Also. Guess what. I am staying here. Forever. You can stick a fork in me cause I am done. No I'm still gonna run but I decided to run in place. A profound compromise. Do you ever compromise with yourself? I have got to start doing it more often. If I don't, wait I just totally lost that whole idea. It was going to be funny, trust me. But nevermind.
Something I've learned: there will always be those who hate you. There will always be those who accuse. There will always be those who confuse speaking truth with judging others. There will always be those who confuse sharing what one has learned with being self-righteous. There will always be those who choose to misunderstand, so they won't have to give up their stance, their take on things. Sometimes what we believe and what we feel is all that we have, and that's the last thing we want to let go of. I understand. But let me point out: naked is good. I stripped myself, and allowed myself to be stripped. I gave some things up willingly, and screamed as other things were taken from me. I own nothing. I stand solid and strong now, down to my bare bones. Bones are better than flesh anyway. http://sites.google.com/site/amylohrman/