Peter Pan and Wendy

Just like how a little Def Leppard song can make us girls dance like strippers. I mean it. Turn that mother on, and watch us go. Writhe like snakes, shaking our rears, eating it up.



I'm somewhere in between. Here and there. In between the rainbows and Neverland. But not The Neverland Ranch. Where? Dreamy almost.



Dreaming of what could happen. (I stole that from Sue. ) Could.



Unaware of the time, and pretty much all of reality. I know nothing of it. I like that.



I won't know until you tell me. So, if there's something you're holding back, maybe you should tell me today. Or later in the week. Whatever makes you comfortable.



This weekend? Has to be a Real World weekend. Started Thursday. With on-call. I just wanted a sip of Dos Equis. Bed check was a breeze last night. Didn't doubt. I curled up in bed after giving Champ a bath. Sunday, I have to work. Cut up my day. After 5, I will be free.

(Saturday, can be kind of a free day, minus, the work.)

"Be sure you deeply appreciate people and sincerely communicate lots of authentic encouragement to them."


"Make sure you give away authentic affirmation and encouragement. And do it often."


We all know that, but do we live it?


Driving through Dandridge, the car ahead of me, there were 2 people. A woman and a man. The woman had her hand on the back of the man's head, kind of stroking him. They leaned in for a kiss, and then I realized how badly I had been tailgating.


Isn't it crazy, how our vision changes? One person may have just seen the car, but I saw what was happening inside the car.


That's me. My vision? Is completely intense. It drives me bonkers some days. I think about hiding in the pantry. And wait for you to find me. It turns out, I'm hiding in the old farm house my Mamaw and Papaw Mowry lived in. The pantry? Always smelled like coconut.


I can't fool you can I?

Best Kept, Underfoot

That's where I want to be. Tripping you up, in the middle of it all, scrambling for your attention. You may get aggravated, but then, your face softens, and you smile because I'm so endearing.


(fingers crossed!)




My daydreams? Consist of beautiful oak bookshelves, glasses of Pinot Noir, open windows, happy bellies, bare feet, bikini tops, James Bond movies, the smell of honeysuckle, seeing my Papaw again, looking for crows, smelling my old baby blanket, having someone to take care of, being patient, skateboard, and not fall off, swing on a swing set, being able to write day in and day out, connect with you. That's not all.



I really like the people who give a shit about me. Meaning, you call, and email me, send me cards, have your children talk to me, include me in your family, pray with me, skateboard with me, check on me, make sure I'm drinking enough water, remind me not to discount myself. You worry! Did she get home ok? Is Paula eating? She could go with us. Call Paw Paw!



Thank you. It means the world.



Yeah, I know, we are friends. That's what we do. When I cry, you hug me. When I am angry, you let me get the devil out. When I am confused, we go through the checklist, and sort it out.



I like that.



You tell me I'm a hot girl, and I cause fires.



You, tell me that things are better than last year, and try to compare how I felt then.(and skate!)



You, remind me, I can go out with you on the weekend, and whisper, let's try to find boys!



You, over there, are an exceptional mother, and your child, has given me a nickname that has/and will continue to dominate Face book.( You should be up front. )



You, are an amazing woman, with skills to pay the bills photography, and your amazing ability to pick up on my emotions. (even when I try to stuff em down)



You, compare me to a great woman in the bible, who's faith is beyond compare. (Ruth)



You, read whatever I type out, and somehow, (I hope), are able to apply to your life.



You, little missy, even in our 10 year, and one day, age difference, has put things on hold, to just make sure, I am well. I miss the boys!!!!!

You too..... I wonder, when is the right time to call?

So there. I need you, to need me.

Let's get together!

She's Crafty

Ok, all. I did admit to Sue what I would love to name my future children. And, I 'm not telling you. Never mind, I'm going ahead. Caroline. Is my girl name. Morning is my girl name. Wyatt is my boy name. I love Sue. And her family. And her utter capacity to make me so happy in simplicity it blows my stinkin' mind. Her entire family, husband, sweet children, have treated me like a total gift. Excited for my arrival. I realize now. I realize, I'm more than fine.

I, love, love.

It is very difficult to be as hungry as I am. I am hungry for new experiences, people, music. I long to hold every face in my hands. And, examine every beautiful facet of shimmer. Glimmer.

I hear Dave Matthews. I want too much. So me.

If I have love, if I have faith, if I have you, if I have thoughts, if I have praise, if I have work, if I have it all, I still want more. Crave more. Tie it up, and hold on to it.

Last year, a friend of mine had said, maybe you didn't appreciate what you had. She didn't mean the way it had come out.

Listen, I examine everything I say, or type, or feel. I do, I have anxiety about how it may make another person feel.Because, I have absorbed every word, a person has ever said to me.

Clanging in me.

My heart hurts. Not surprised. My heart hurts, for, you. For myself. Sometimes, my heart hurts when I am very happy. It hurts, bc, I am not complete. It hurts, because all of my goals, have not been accomplished. Emotional goals included.

I mean, what you see, is what you get.

Shy, in your face, embarrassed, proud. Those words, describe how I feel on a daily basis. Which isn't a bad thing. It means, I experience everything, and I want to.

Maybe that's why. That's why, it is how it is.

Exceptional. And you should be jealous.

Drive you crazy. But in a good way.

Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your day, it makes me feel special.

Talk soon, sweetheart.

Shades of Blue

Eye contact. Is important. It validates the person you are speaking to, and gives them a sense of belonging. That they are the focus point. Too much is going on these days. Too much to distract us from the honest, lovely things in our lives.

I had a feeling. A feeling of relief, and realization. That, I was happy. Happy to be divorced. Happy to be out of a marriage that consumed me as a person, and not in a good way.

Those are very difficult words to type. Or utter. Or think about.

I prayed another prayer. To let me find it. I am not a person that can thrive alone. I need fuel. And that's the truth. I need a push. I crave encouragement.
I, love, love. All love.

My friendships. My family. I, love, love. My pets.

I have no clue what it is like to be a Mama. No clue.

I know what it feels like to be a dog Mama. Listen, granted, Champ is a dog. But, he has taught me more, and loved me more than anything in this world in just 2 years. I am always needed by Champ.

Like you, if you are a parent, you know what your children need. It's unspoken.
It unlocks your mind.

And, I am the only one who knows what Champ needs. I anticipate his needs. Rhythm.

The guilt? The worry? How will my actions reflect on my child?


Just a dog at a glance. But he's my comfort. He sleeps with me nose to nose.
If I cry, he sits in my life, and almost hugs me.
(where I typed life, I really meant, lap, but, life seems more fitting.)

It may sound crazy, but he's just my lifesaver.

So when I do become a Mama, I may not be ready. When, I do become a Mama. I do have patience. And the most important ingredient, love.

Self-sacrifice. I know some about.

My heart kinda hurts today. It just does.

Dial Soap

One of my favorite memories surprised me today. The google thing, is the lady washing the little girl's feet?

Let me start with my house. It is my Mamaw's house, which my Daddy grew up in, the farm I live on, was a beautiful fruit and nut tree farm at one point. My little house, is perfect, tucked away in the woods, hidden from everyone.

It's gorgeous. And perfect. Maybe not the priciest, not the most fixed up. It has character. The sink in my kitchen? Is the sink I sat on as a little girl as my Mamaw would wash my feet. In a dishpan. Which I still have. Displayed proudly. She would use Dial soap. The gold kind? It smells so clean. One of my favorite smells.

I, love to be barefoot. I would run on the gravel road, run through the field. Barefoot. Walk by the pond. Shoot basketball with my sister. Ride my favorite horse. All barefoot. Ride on the tractor with my Daddy....... busy little girl.

My little house? Is full. Full of memories. Good and bad. Open to new ones.

I am looking forward to my weekend. To spend time with Sue's family. She has a big family. Which, I admire. I admire Sue and Josh, and I am sure, I will cry when I have to leave. Cause that's how I roll.

Playing in the yard, Sue taking pictures of us(maybe?), baseball?, beer drinkin', chasin' kids, being barefoot. You can count on it. Talking, talking, talking. I can't wait. I just want to be outside.

I just want to be around love right now. I'm just in that kind of mood. Unspoken respect.

Oh, I hope we sit around a fire too. I really don't care what we do, as long as we can spend time together. Those are the best. I remember sittin' on the tobacco wagon of my Papaw's. Rachel braiding my hair, making daisy chains. Simple as being barefoot.

That's the kind of life, I am trying to cultivate.

A loving home, with sweet memories for my children. With a husband, who looks at me with great respect, and endearment.

My niece was the valedictorian as you may know, graduation was last night. I saw my little girl, making steps to grow up. I sat there, with tears in my eyes. My Daddy? Held my hand. My Mama? Made me cry harder. She said, you will have a little girl like that one day, just as exceptional. My Mama, using, my word. Exceptional.

My Mama. Making my heart grow even more. And, of course, long for it a little more too.

Haley was more than perfect. She is shy, like me. We don't usually bound into new situations. It takes us a while to bloom. But, when we do, watch out. Turning into one of the biggest flowers in the garden. She gave her speech, made eye contact. She's 10. Making eye contact with the crowd.

I can't imagine how Rachel felt.

Maybe I shouldn't be so. No, that's wrong. I am, just so.

I am just so. Waiting. Full of hope. Optimistic. Wanting. Aching. For my own. For whatever it is.
My prayer?

Dear Lord,

Help keep me on the path. I am so sorry for the things I do that do not glorify you, Lord. I pray for your forgiveness, and your hand to be with me.

Just don't let me wait too long, Lord.

For what? I am unsure. I just don't want to wait too long.

Amen.

I am a prayer. I pray for everything, everyone. Ask me to pray. I will make time to do it. I pray when I am working, running on the track, washing dishes. Before eating.

I pray out loud, in the car, as I fall asleep. When I text. Making phone calls. Writing e-mails.


Shelane James, A.K.A., Skinny Bitch, said, I have learned everything I know about patience from Paula. Wow. I must be doing something right.

Then, the same day,Landa, gave me another compliment.
We had been talking about intellectual people.
She was like, word!, just like you, a brainiac.

Ok, Landa, didn't use the term, word.

Here I am, independent thinker. Craving what is mine/or coming soon(?).

I have to make a list today.

What Spellcheck?

You gotta start small. Even, when you, are the small fish. This morning, walking through the bedroom, I caught myself in the mirror. Heyyyyy, youre small, so, you gotta start small.
My appetite? Is huge.
I have a hard time saying no, I have a hard time not giving every ounce of me away.
Babysteps.
Small steps.
I have a problem. A flaw.

This is just one of them, I , want to go straight to the solution.

I can't stand the mathematics of things. (Paradox, much, PLN?-Sphinx?)

Integrate.


Dreams as of late? Here we go. One calm, peaceful, sweet dream. Of me holding a baby deer. It may be from the picture of Kelly's Papaw holding one. Grass. Woods. Outside.
The other? Very traumatic. Vivid. Breath-taking, in a bad way. Being shot. In the neck. Shoulder. Being able to see my muscles. Very strange.


Surrender isn't always a sign of weakness.

Why does the fruit taste so good? I can't have fruit, so I want it. Things can't be different right now, so of course, I covet. Why does the fruit taste so good????

From: Sue

Time: 9:10 pm

You are constant topic of conversation in the house.


Thank you, Nason Household!

Beautiful Women Love Star Trek

Every thigh-shaking moment. I don't even know where to begin. This one, is going to be extremely emotional. And satisfying.

Star Trek was so amazing, I had to drink whiskey afterward. And eat pizza. (yeah, I faltered on the whole diet thing.) It's not even a diet, for me, gah, I'm not explaining this.....

Every shot, every line, every character, was so blazingly breath-taking beautiful, it changed me. Changed me to the point, I had a new identity. The score. The SCORE! Crap. The score could have been enough for me. Oh, but, but, there I was. What? Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer. It made me want to shoot up the place. You know that's a good movie. You feel revived, reborn, ready. For action. Real or imagined. Shoot whiskey, fuck, steal cars, drive super fast......cry it out.

I mean, shit. My blue eyes were as wide as saucers. I didn't have one thought about anything else during this gorgeous movie. ~~~~~ Hard, just like your boyfriend.

My favorite part? Oh, my favorite part. Again. the score. The score. It was my favorite part. You guessed it would have been one of the good looking men?I do like dudes. I likes 'em. I really like dudes that admire my legs and feet. (or shoes)

I almost cried TWICE. TWICE. Let me say again, TWICE. In Star Trek, I felt like it was The Notebook. It was that emotional for me. Medication? Stuff me full of Star Trek. That is plenty to keep me well..... Not since The Rocky Horror Picture Show, have I been shaped up from all the glorious feelings, a movie could conjure up inside of me.

A little background on Rocky Horror? So many things were happening in the time, that shaped me. Star Trek, just got shoved in the middle of it all. (Still on my knees...)

I can hang on a little longer..... the mystery? I can appreciate anything.
Apparently, it makes me into the brave little soldier.

Beam me up. Is this what it feels like when the Madonna cries blood? The statue? Not whore monger Madonna celebrity trash hole. There's the rub. I'm missing. Not missing out though.

What Muffins?

All is well, and all in all. I have just enough this day, to give out, give in, and press on. I coulda swore I felt your hands all over me, and I liked it for a few minutes. Snapped back into reality when the phone rings, and think about where to go? Who to see? Did you miss me at all? Of course you did. All I can think of is the bakery, and I know better. I know, better. It's raining.

It's so raining.

Not in here.

I can't wait to see Sue and the kids, and of course, meet Josh. The meeting of the minds? Yeah. It's gonna be a real p***y wetter. Sorry, my mind is full of trash this morning.

You see, I have been on this great, good, path. Which, I should continue to meander for a while, but a wise woman told me yesterday, it was time to let the devil out of this girl.....

Whatever that means.

Happy Birthday Baby Champ!!!!

That's right. The boy is 2. I didn't either!!! I mean, I didn't think he would ever turn 2!!! And here he is!!! Lived through dog bites, pancreatitis, colitis, gastroenteritis, coccidia, and he still manages to take care of me. He was up and down last night, which, I think he was nervous from the storm, he may be deaf, but that makes him ten times more perceptive of things around him. We woke up at the foot of the bed, literally, nose to nose. I'm wildly in love with my dog.



He's just the tits.



Still 2!!!



My boy has eaten everything under the sun, puked it up, cuddled with me, sits by my feet while I wash the dishes, pokes his head into the shower when I'm in it, looks at me with his beautiful eyes and makes me melt. If we sit on the couch, he has to be right on my lap, licking the book I read, chewing on the remote control, chasing Tiger like good brothers do, licking my face to tell me he loves me, has learned sign language, can sit, shake, and high five.



2!!!



Been beside me all this time, and has always been faithful. Playing in the garbage can , looking through the dirty laundry, pushing my buttons, destroying shoes, hoppin' in the bath tub, lovin' every second. I love the boy. I love him.



2!!!



Looking for the turkey that's hidden in the house, jumping on Jme, crying in his kennel, hating whoopins', layin' on his back, all 4 legs flallin' in the air..................



Woke up with crazy hair.



Saw a turkey this mornin' in the driveway, and she was all alone!!! I then see 2 little baby turkey!!! I had gotten out of the car, and would have tried to hold 'em, but the mama turkey, was squalin' at me, and givin' me the turkey eye.... amazing.

Today is gonna be a good day. (Cause it's my baby's birthday!!!!)

Wednesday/Thursady Night Madness

Wolverine. Nothing more to do than go to the movies. Er, go to a bad-ass movie. That involves hot, hot men. Now, I love some Hugh Jackman, I love Mr. Ryan Reynolds. (Have you seen his body? ) (Lord in Heaven ) My attention is totally on Liev Schreiber. He is one hot piece. Of tail.

Law. He could probably run a 50 yard dash with me on his back, and not be tired. He should probably surrender. We should probably make babies. I'm just sayin'.

Terry picked me up, and I had to check the mail, and exclaimed, he knew there was something different about me, but couldn't put his finger on it. Then, as I walked across the road, he said, "You're not wearing a wife beater!!!!" "That's what's different, and wrong!!!"

Terry Wise, is correct. I have rocked a beater for about 15 years now, it's my trademark, but now, I don't wear lacy bra's underneath 'em.


I can't believe I haven't uttered on single word about the events on Sunday afternoon. Terry and I were listening to the Jason Ellis Show... (satellite radio), and they were discussing "Are you a slut?" Now, just like any other radio show, this is the chosen forum. People were calling in, and Joe Rogan was the guest, (another awesome dude), and the boys had to use their discretion about who was a slut.

Well, this gal had called in from Las Vegas, and asked if they had heard of this "magic" trick. The boys called it a Houdini, she called it something else. Anyhooter, she had described a sexual act of a guy doing a girl from the back, and "faking" HIS orgasm, and then, having the girl turn around and blow in her face. This certain act, was not why she wanted to know if she were slutty, she wanted to know if because she likes having dudes blow in her face is the slutty act.

First and foremost, let me clear something up, You should have knowledge when your dude blows his junk. You should know. Your vaggy muscles can detect that shit. Secondly, if I turned around and some jackhole blew all in my face, and this was something that wasn't agreed on?

I would punch you square in the effin nose.

I would.

No doubt, that would be My reaction. (take notes, warn all your dude friends.)


All joking, and jackassery aside, a pretty sad event has transpired. I found Miss Daisy Rose Duke deceased in the driveway. So please say a little prayer, for my sweet girl kitty.
My Daddy's favorite cat, she will buried on Friday. Daddy wants to take care of her. She will be layed to rest by Chris the Dog, underneath the clothes line. I miss her little meow. It was so quiet, dainty, and perfect, I knew it was her immediately.

I did do one thing Thursday night, that helped me feel pretty dog-gone good. At bed check, I syringe fed the most pitiful/amazing little kitten. She's about a month old, the owner states she was from a ferel litter. Her little eye was out of her head. The doctor had done surgery, removed the eye, and she looks amazing. I was able to syringe feed her last night, and she purred.... she layed in my hands, and just purrrrrrrred. She's gonna make it. It was such a great moment for me. Little belly full, she went night-night.

So even in the bad, the good is hangin' around too.

P.S. If the two agree on the load blowing in the face, and both parties like it, it's not slutty.

(Red Dragons!)

Amazing Grace

You know those days where you feel trapped in the dryer, screaming to get out? I'm not familiar with the feeling either, but, we can always put ourselves in another persons shoes. We can all humble ourselves to empathize. It's the power to do so.

Claims of out and out openness? It's a quality you don't have to advertise, people meet you, learn your personality, and then they can see it in you.

Most "open folks" are only open to what they like, or care about. Political, social, environmental, spiritual.

Maybe, shut your mouth, and open ears. I think that's a Marine Corp thing. I don't know. Or it's from a movie. Either way, I love the words.

Too often, we are swept up. In tides that drown us, do not empower us.

Over analyzing, uncomfortable finger pointing. Convincing ourselves, that our opinions are truth.
When the fact of the matter is? Truth proves itself, over and over. Just like being genuine. Just like being honest. Just like being who you are.

Imperfect.

So hop on down the bunny trail.

I had told Landa, Monday night, I felt like I was laying still, and everyone else was racing past me. She looked at me, then said, Paula, I think it's you who is running a million miles ahead of everyone else, and we are the ones staying still.

Maybe.

Isn't it lovely? To look at someone else's point of view, from where you are unable to see?

I tried to think of the many points of views that had come across my path, since last Thursday. That, was my pivot point.

Tuesday, was an amazing day. I had my haircut. And Pete, called me out.

I sat in the chair, as he looked at me...I told him, Pete, I am pissed at God. I am let down. Over, and over. I could care less about God, since I feel so left behind. I'm pissed, that I have to be different. (sound familiar?)

There's a recurring theme in my life as of late. I am different. The end. I'm just gonna have to be. I don't like where I am right this second, but, I'm moving forward, at least.

Trial and error.

Hiking with Shelane went very well. It gave me a chance to reconnect, and realize what my salt is worth. Why I wake up. Why I am not burying my head in the sand.

She laughed at me, bc, if you ever go on a hike with me, I want to be dirty, be right smack dab in the middle of the water on the rocks. I want to climb, and just about run through the trails. (picture, toothpick legs)

I had layed on this rock, that literally was leaning into the water, I layed on my belly, all I wanted was to feel the rushing water in my hands. Shelane was like, can I help you? Let me hang on to you. NO!!! If you grab me, I will fall. (those are my shenanigans, and you can high five me later)

As we drove back, listened to Jack Johnson, I was breathing normally. For the first time, in what felt like decades, I was breathing normally. I didn't feel wrapped up in the carpet, being flung into the landfill, and praying to be crushed.

I felt relief.

Terry Wise met his match in running last night.

Had the nerve to tell me he could dominate me.

I win the gold effin medal for domination. Over anything. Including, running.

We ate at the Cuban B, and laughed. Had fun. (fried plantains, excellent!!)

More relief.

Sometimes, I'm gonna hurt, sometimes, I'm gonna be the peanut butter, to your jelly.
Sometimes, you're gonna have to wear shades, cause I'm just that shiny.

P.S. Terry wanted to use a sharpie to play connect the dots with my freckles at the Cuban last night, and then half-way through it, pussed out. Peace out.

Redo

Do over!!!! Think Wayne's World, when those monkeyboys are out in the street playin' hockey.

Just a little overwhelmed today. Unable to collect my thoughts. But curious about yours. So? How are you? Very well I hope.

Confused as ever? Just put the car in park and think about where you want to go....

Me? Far away from here. Far away from my reality. I am too curious about the future, and I am more than positive that's why it isn't getting any closer.

Still have window's up. The air conditioner is just useless right now.

And, I'm mad. I may be in the middle of a god blessed Epiphany too.

I don't understand why the path is so rocky. I can't comprehend, why the door won't open.

I'm sure I'm going to run like hell tonight. It won't be an issue. Gonna do the effin steps too. I can feel my hammy's burnin already. It's cool. Just wait at the top for me.

I may not want to stop.

Thankful I can sleep right now. I'm more than sure it's the hamsters running around all day that makes me tired at night.

My dream? Last week. About Johnny Knoxville and Landa. Me and a boy with the mix of my ex-husband, and this other dude I had dated. And, we were in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre house. The original. But, nothing scary was happening. No, Leatherface didn't serve up martini's. Landa and JK, were going to make out, or make a baby, or something. The boy and I? No baby making, just going to eat dinner. Not, with Leatherface. So, boy went to the bathroom, I had put us on the waiting list. Waiting list. Sister Girl Lady called out my old name. Brice? Nope. Not me. This other chick a doodle doo was like, it's her, pointing to me. I'm like no, that's not my name. She said, yeah it is. I heard you. I heard you say that's your name. I persisted, with, that's not my name. (insert video of the Ting Tings. ) I started yelling at Lady, and said, just wait a second, Mr. Man will be here in a few. So, I waited. And waited. And waited.

And woke up.

Vague....

So watcha want?

Little OctoPussy

Listen, It's already been the longest day, and it's only 7. War is hell. Even after watching OctoPussy. My mood is dangerous. Tough morning, until I just told myself. It's ok. Smile.

The song on the way? I will buy you a new life. Yep. Everclear. Proportionally blessed to be able to pick up 105.3 at my house, in the woods.

Stuck in the middle with you. Not the song, in real time.

Back to OctoPussy. Brilliant James Bond flick. I could barely keep my eyes open through the circus part. And that's an awesome part!!! I would wake up and reply to my text messages. Hoping to be nestled in some one's heart. Hoping for their guilt. I thought, do they know?

Nothing, is always something.

Phrases heard at bath time: Big boys stay still while getting a bath!!!

In the make-shift weaponry laboratory, Bond states, " Trouble keeping it up? "
Rope goes limp. I think the movie was supposed to be set in India. I can't remember.

The tattoo? Oh, that's my little OctoPussy.

Her way of getting out of dodge?

Tying her dress to the balcony, she shimmy's down. Beautiful. Lands right on her feet, appears in a sweet bikini. The dude wraps a robe around her, she slips in the car.

Which proves my theory. I could be a James Bond Villain. I dig bikini's. I dig escape. I dig making you wonder. And stealing Faberge eggs. Cause, that's what OctoPussy is about.

I know I could be one of the naked ladies in the beginning of the Bond movies.

There's so much you don't know about!!!

But no, you slipped out, and played dumb, and used a pathetic excuse to make yourself feel better. The truth is, it made you very sad.

Actually, you just got busted. Hear the sirens? Close behind, baby.
You, were busted.
You, had feelings. ( and, they freaked you out. )

I rocked 'em, and rolled 'em.....

You wish I could stop talking about it.

Promises of debauchery were not fulfilled. Dreams dashed.
Debauchery could have filled the space in between. And it has.

Just with some one else.

The gall this one boy has. I just wish I could figure you out.
That's where you fuck up.
I don't want to be figured out.
The honest truth?
There just isn't rhyme or reason for me.
The folks who really invest in me, and see me....
NOTE: See me. Take me.

This precious, motley crew, have learned me. They have learned who, what, when, where, I am.

Put yourself in my shoes, look inside my glass globe. Remain hypnotized by the snow inside.

TRY!!!
TRY!!!

Like yesterday. All week. Last week. I am staying positive. I am not going to let the little things get at me. I will be fine. It's ok.

Today?

Very hard day.

5A.M. - Wake up, feed boys, start my coffee, pick up book, lay on couch, turn on the radio, take boys out, worry.

I just don't feel right today. ( She's running to stand still. )

I went to work. I, functioned at work. Got over my attitude. Washing my hands of the situation helped. Fine through the morning. Until, this guy asked what happened to my face.
I have a strawberry on my chin. It's from roller skating with Liz, and she pushed me down.

She did apologize.

2:55P.M.- Meltdown beginning. I felt my head change. Anxious.

3:00P.M. - Worms working their pitiful way through my brain.

3:10P.M. - Driving home. Full fledged attack.

My heart was beating so fast. I was burning up. I couldn't cool off. I tried to focus. The bad part? I was focused on the tremors that began. I was terrified of the thoughts I was experiencing.
I was freaked. I couldn't call. Shaking, dropping the car down in neutral. Parked.

I somehow make it home. Shaking. Talking myself down. I couldn't sit. Stare. Radio on. Start laundry. Shaking. Heart beating in my ears. Too many thoughts to process. Too much. Turn it off. Radio off. Washing machine, off.

I shed my clothes with a quickness, layed on the bed. Talked to Sue. Cried. Sobbed. Worry. Fear. So fearful. I wanted to kill it with a bow and arrow.

She said, The expectations you have for yourself are too high right now.

She's right.

It made me a little bit sad.

It made me feel like I had been seen.

Her words empowered me.

Too hard on yourself.

Wicked. Wicked panic attack.

If I could have, I would have gotten out an exacto knife, and cut the carpet open, so I could lay underneath it. It's so scary. My chest so tight. Unable to get a handle.

I took a small nap. 15 minutes.

My Daddy had come by, so we walked the farm. I helped with the barbed wire. Daddy had a lot of questions for me. I thought, he knows. He knows, my wicked state of mind.

It does help for me to get out on the farm. It's a secret lair.

More confirmation, that I, am human. That I, am just fine. I was better for moving through it. I was a better girl for the survival of it all. I was just perfect.

Terry and I went to walk, we sat by the water. He had bought some new shoes. I had shoe envy. It's true. I settled down, more, and more, if I stay in motion, the relief cradles me.

Bed check was a breeze.

I ramble home around 9:30. Shower. Love on the dogs. Read. Write. TV on.
I sat outside on the steps and took in the moon. Not quite full. Almost.

My day was actually a good day. It was again, different.

I think I'm ok with that.

Pray. Sit. Wait.

Speechless?

Not you. Never. This is the only time, I mean, the only time I can listen to any advice given by that a** John Mayer. Say what you need to say.



**** Disclaimer *****


That's the only thing you should absorb from that jackalope. Lots to cover today. I came clean to Angie. It felt good. She said something first. I may be in love with her.


'Cause she asked me. I love you, you dirty, rotten, roller skatin', armadillo you. It's platonic love. Although, if I were a ragin' lez, Steve would be the first to know.


I forgot all the notes in my pocket. Those are important. Salad is on my mind, so bear with me.


Look me in the eye when you take me down!!! It's how I roll! I don't know until you tell me.

So give me a break. Sittin' there in your anger, pouty, cowboy hat. (me) Quickly, switch the mirror around.....


I am looking forward to my weekend. I usually don't focus that far ahead.


God blessed therapist. Coming clean? Still seeing them weekly? That's ok.


You miss 100% of the shots you don't make. I love you Office.

Call me Carrel, I need more band-aids.


Matt Kearney blaring. Made me feel like a volcano. Pressure.


Rambo First Blood was on last night, the boys and I studied the bazooka's, and jungle. I made a sweet red headband for Champ. Now, that's a spicy meatball!!!


At church with Landa yesterday, we found this book called extraordinary prayer. It was extraordinary. I loved it. It had all these responsive readings in it that filled me up.


I had also read a prayer, and at the end, it said,
Lord, just don't let me wait too long.


My motto.


When you said, I don't think you're geared like everyone else, I thought I had been punked.


Sitting in the truck jamming out, I love music I haven't heard before. I love brand new stuff my ears pick up. Travel to my brain, whippin' up my neurons. You dirty bird.


Peter said, the bird, bird, bird is the word... bird, bird, bird, bird is the word....


The true name to my post today?


What I need a M***** F***** for.


1. I need one to pay for my guitar lessons.
2. To reach the top shelf, so I'm not fallin' off the step stool and spillin' my kool-aid.
3. EEEE. to cuddle with.
4. To keep me in check.
5. Settle me into reality.
6. Split the bills.
7. Buy me shit. Pick flowers.
8. Be mad at me when I show myself, but laugh cause you mf'er, you knows my nature.
9. Talk me out of joining the circus. Just do it.
10. Help me open up, and rap to the Beastie Boys.
11. Go on long hikes, and kiss when we get to the top.
12. Make sure I get home safe.
13. Tuck you into bed at night.
14. Watch me take a bath. ( last night was a good one )
15.Check for bad guys outside.
16. Hold me in the middle of the night when I get scared, or at least, call.
17. Shoot targets.:)
18. Help figure out for sure if I'm sleep walking.
19. Go to church with me.
20. Meet my daddy, and just be with the easy goin' man.
21. Avoid Vicky Clause at all costs, learn quickly how to change the subject.
22. So then, I'm not the third. Or fifth. Or God-fearin' seventh.
23. To learn more about.
24. To get lost with. ( being lost with yourself, is encouraged, but can be scary.) (I'm still a girl.)


I love you girls. You married queens. I love you. Like the freckles on my arms, I guard you in my heart like little chicks who have just hatched.


But, I need more. I need more. Oh crap, that felt good. I need more.


No discounts to you Skinny Bitch. 22 year old Skinny Bitch. With your 80's sunglasses of perception. I love you too. Hurry back from Lawrencville, so we can whore around.
JK, so you can whore around, no, JK, so we can together. ( Text much?)



I swallowed my whiskey like a good girl, and finished my journal.

Turned off the TV, and went to bed.

All right, all right. So I tend to do things that you wouldn't do?

It's ok, I think you're moving right along.

Roscoe?

My brain is like a full bathtub of kidneys on ice after a Sorority party gone bad.

Where to start? Well, I'm hot. Burnin' up. My concentration level is so beyond out the window, it forces you to think twice like when the server comes back to the table, and asks, another? Pausing, you think, I could have one more, or, it could go all to hell if you do.

My thoughts are like a car accident. I looked both ways. The car smashed into the side, I just closed my eyes. Scared. Walt came to mind, when he mentioned my car was made of Styrofoam......

He bravely said, you can trust God, and love God, and have that comfort, but that human touch is what will fill it. Man, to be in a realationship where you are still lonely? No thanks.

Untied. Untangled. Foul ball.

The "just for now's" came rollin in. Diane made me talk about it. Calling me out, she stated, you made the situation confusing, by saying one thing, then doing another. Careful, little girl.

If that aint the truth.

I don't mind it. Sure, it makes my belly ache and hurt to hear the truth. Sculley and Mulder made their opinions known also. The truth is out there. Point taken, Mr. Sex Addict.

Or my chest feels so tight that I may have an imagined asthma attack.

Attention, attention. New course to map out.

No more emotion. That's it. I wash my hands of it. I just will take my void of discontentment, and hold hands with it. Cut throat will lead to deep throat. And, I can just not feel good, or bad.

I will remain heartless even after the third cup of wine. I will be a relentless heart breaker. You will think about me, and think of ways to get me back, but I have already closed the door, so it will be impossible to open my mind up to you again. It will be like I'm blind folded. Just taking whatever I run into. You will sit and wonder "Does goodbye say it all?"

Aha. I reference The Piano once again. The part where Holly Hunter throws herself off the boat with the rope used to throw the thing (piano) overboard, is wrapped around her ankle, so she goes too. Floating to the bottom of the ocean. Opened eyes. Mute. Shoe drops, she wriggles out, onto the surface. They all rush to her, and dry her off to hold her. She just stares. It's some kind of surrender.

Oh vivid. I love you. I love you words, carelessly strung about. Like piano, makes my heart beat faster, then we come to the word ocean, and I just lose it. Vivid is a favorite word. It rolls off the tongue and sounds so exciting, as if you were being bounced off the trampoline.

Please, please, please, let's not discount surrender. Beautiful word. I take care of every letter as if it were the man of my dreams.

No radio today. I can't. I have too much noise to tend to.

Did you know, we say at least 150-200 words a minute? Our "self-talk" is supposedly, 1300 words a minute. I buy that. Threw my money on the counter and ran off. Smack.

I'm sure I think more than that.

"As a man thinks with his heart, so is he." Proverbs 23:7

So when I tear myself down all the way to my cuticles, I try to remember that. And that's the perception of me. Of what I project. I always wear my emotions forthright.

I guess the cold hearted plan won't work.
I don't think yours does either. It completely transparent. I'm sure you feel ashamed.
Don't be mad at me now, sport, this is something you claim to be. Real or imagined.

Back to being a rogue, the female equivalent to James Dean.

There I go, pulling your leg, with visions of David Coverdale, dancing in your head.

I really tried to tell you how I feel. Somehow it got scalped by the Indian crying by the side of the road. Darn the Indian. Creeping up the side of the house, blood curdling death yell.

I love how Tom Petty gives me the permission to breakdown, he says, it's 'all right'..... It's in a song, so it must hold some truth. Music is self expression....

Ah, you just wish I did drugs. I can entertain you sober. It's much more amazing, even though, I wish I had a little more clarity.

Mr. Wise, you had said over the weekend, reading some one's blog is like looking into their bedroom window. Welcome then. Notice how well I keep this room clean? Ignore the bed. I never make it up. Energy wasted.

We also found an amazing sleeping bag that I want. It's different shades of green, it's only lacking the polka dots for me to play the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland. A, E, I, O, U.... A, E, I, O, U....

It's important to drink lots of peanut butter and banana milkshakes, go to church (even if you get there late), go to work, try new things, not get eaten by cats your trying to give subcutaneous fluids to, feed your soul, answer honestly, eat delicious food, start the laundry, wipe down the pollen that has made it into the house, ride in an elevator, pray, drink beer at Preservation Pub, know your limits, drop your guard, get a to-go box, miss your friends, eat lunch with your Daddy, take pictures, be a little less melancholy, understand there are no coincidences, enjoy time alone, ride around in the car, go to skateboard shops (check out the skateboard boys.) (I know, I know, I'm so a sucker for the skateboard boys), get free comics at the comic book store (it was free comic book day Saturday.), continue to compare myself to Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman, not get mugged in the Old City, discover the $10 dollar cover @ Barley's, instead hang @ Patrick Sullivan's, realize, hey, I'm tired, change my clothes, dry out my chucks from the rain, buy baby shampoooooo for the dogs, so they smell like lavender, snuggle down in the bed, wake up at 5, and be ok with it, fall in love with Matt Costa all over again, when his sweet music comes pouring out of the radio, maybe miss you for a moment, look at shoes and not buy them, feel as if the Pastor was speaking directly to you (Holy Spirit), cry through church, pray more, alot more, sit outside, daydream, have a nightmare, wake up tangled in the sheets on the floor, start the coffee (again).

And not doubt my life isn't as traumatic and busy as yours. I just want to describe it. :)

That sums up my weekend. (it's really not the half of it.) You?

Man on Fire

Pink Floyd. Echos: The Best of Pink Floyd.

The picture on the front, is so awesome.

One part of the picture is a man with his shoulder on fire.

Are we just not like that? Partly on fire? One little piece of us?

I don't want to be that man.

I want to

A. Be so on fire, you couldn't bear to touch me.
OR.................................
B. Just the right temperature, so you can sink your teeth in.

Thank you, Mrs. Robinson

My thoughts a re a mess today, so I don't even know if I'm gonna use spell check. Or proof read.
I'm a tiny size 4. If I don't gorge on Dos Equi's Light, I can squeeze into a 2.
(ok, ok, that's not true, I have a sweet ass, and thighs that could break you in two, like a gator in the middle of a death roll.)
I'm a freakin' midget, according to airports, I could be considered a carry-on.
My tininess? Due to stress, mostly. I berate the fuck out of myself, when I sit and eat a whole carton of ice cream through out the week. When that guilt comes rollin' out, I turn into a zen master of self-denial. I could be a perfect Catholic.

Well, Mr. Sister.

I admit, it's a flaw. It's when those flaws become out of control.
The voices in your head?
Hey, bitch, you're not good enough.
Why try? You're gonna fail.


It can turn into Carrie with a quickness. ( They're all gonna laugh at you.)

I'm gonna wash that man/woman/friend/issue/problem/flaw/ parent/drug/sex/alcoholism/self-esteem/ health/ spirituality right outta my hair.......

Wouldn't that be nice?

A home run in the terms of baseball......


We could just turn our backs to it. Here I am, smiling like the devil.


I had a man say to me yesterday, what are you so happy about?
Every time I see you, you have a big smile on that pretty face.
Honey, I will gladly tell you.

1. I'm alive. Sure, I've been down and out, but I'm a come-back kid. (Don't forget it.)
2. I have everything I need. Food, shelter, money, family, friends.
3. I am faithful. And, it will be rewarded.
4. Ya know, there's too much too type.....

My fear? That thing most of us ride hard.......

I don't like this about myself.

Fear.

I, hate this situation. Fear again.

Example.

I went running at the dam last night. Check, it's dangerous for me to be out at dusk by myself. Check. With my i-pod blaring. My fear actually came in handy last night. It helped me finish. I didn't want to. I wanted to give up. But, I pushed through.

The prickly pear?

Sometimes, fear makes you a strong little mountain goat. No, I don't recommend doing things that are dangerous. But I do recommend trying things on that are, uncomfortable. I do. If you bomb, you bomb. But isn't it great when you gain?

Dear Shelane, I am still ring leader and dominating queen of getting as many phone numbers as possible. Thank you. - Love, Skinny Bitch

Oh, and if you eat crap, you feel like crap. Don't blame the burrito. It is never sweet burritos fault. I.E. Top portion of blog....

I just heard this song by Led Zepplin that always makes me think of this (short-term) boyfriend I had. His name was Mark. Beautiful man. Artist. Could run one finger down the length of my body from toe to head, and you know, start some fires. If I saw him today, I would high five him.

Mmm mm mm. He helped me. With opening my mind. With just helping me realize what true abandon felt like.

I have a portrait he had drawn of me. So funny. It's carefully folded and put away. I can just look at the creases of the paper and smile.

Hands on my lips.

He said " A woman like you could feed armies. " (I can feel my pulse flyin'.)

Mark probably has 3.5 kids, a beautiful wife, and a mortgage that's about to kill him.

Back to fear. See how I roll? In your face. Sporadically. Honey, even the cold hearted have fear. Thems the folks, who, are the most afraid. That's right. If it's not so true, how 'bout provin' me wrong? Go ahead. Face it.

Couldn't you just give me a bare bottomed spanking?

P.S. Watch out, more shenanegins are just about to unfold. Just a warning.