Light and Darkness

Knock Knock

CPS visit number two was this evening at 8 p.m.

Don't you love surprise visits?

I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart by Ella Fitgerald

lyrics by Henry Nemo, Duke Ellington, & John Redmond

I let a song go out of my heart
It was the sweetest melody
I know I lost heaven 'cause you were the song

Since you and I have drifted apart
Life doesn't mean a thing to me
Please come back, sweet music, I know I was wrong

Am I too late to make amends?
You know that we were meant to be more than just friends, just friends

I let a song go out of my heart
Believe me, darlin', when I say
I won't know sweet music until you return some day

I let a song go out of my heart
Believe me, darlin', when I say
I won't know sweet music until you return some day

the mood...two days later

Dreams are consistently puzzling. I do admit there has been a lot of sex in my unconscious ramblings. Lack of sex? Or the intimacy of my inner thoughts represented by one of the most intimate acts?

My lower right side is aching. Ovarian pain perhaps. It's hard to say.

I am still depressed. Not as pissy which is a gift unto the world. I'm unbearable when I'm in a foul mood. Everything becomes my soap box in an obnoxious way. And I tend to lose all rules of decorum when I speak to people. My frank way of expressing myself just becomes rude and uncensored.

I am in need of a full body massage. My back is aching. I seriously injured it years ago. Probably years of doing things myself which includes moving furniture alone. I woke in the night in excruciating pain and when standing upright, I was the crooked on man with the crooked cane. My posture and walk were obviously painful. I spent months seeing my rheumatologist, neurologist, neurosurgeon, and internist. All of them said that I needed surgergy and couldn't even fathom how I was getting about with the disc bulg in my back, the disc deteoriation, and the beginnings of arthritis. My answer:I'm a single mother. So after going the rounds with medications from the mild to the narcotic, I opted for physical therapy. Helped soooo much. I'm not in as much pain and my foot doesn't drag anymore. But I still have pain. The extra weight on my body doesn't help. Boy...all that to explain that I long for a body massage.

I'm just a mess. I completely understand why I'm not attractive to men. Physical, mental, and emotional baggage. Blah!!! Bad self image day.

Yep. I'm depressed. All I want to do is sleep.

Fucking life.

FUCK THE ESTABLISHMENT!!!

So, I have a bit of a temper. Just a wee bit. Yesterday's post about my mood. I should have exercised my right to withdraw to my house and be a hermit. But nooooooooooo....I had to support fucking literacy.

Em and I had gone to Baskin Robbins with Steph and James for free cone night. I was in a bad mood as noted before but free ice cream was going to pick me up. When we got to the shop, parking was insane which I already planned for But what irks me are those people that decide that they're going to walk to their cars with icecream in hand and then they just stand there. Parking lot is full and you just stand there while people are trying to find a fucking place. I drove around twice cussing like a mad woman.

Finally get a spot and Em wants to sit in the car to listen to Eminem. I tell her that James and Steph are waiting for us and let's go. She's not happy with me so she dawdles.

We walk into the shop and I notice that they've closed one of the doors not allowing access through it. They open the other to control the flow of traffic. Note: I hate, absolutely hate, when people have to use the same door to go in and out. I look at people who stare at a fully functioning door that is closed and people try to smash themselves through one door. People, are we that moronic?! So, when a store chooses to close a door thinking it will help them. FUCKING STUPID! But anyways.....

Standing right inside the door is an employee behind a podium type thing. He's marking everyone's hand with a highlighter and directs us to the back of the line. Neon signs throughout the store give directions stating that we should have our flavor ready when we are served and we can upgrade the scoop size by paying 50 cents. I know what I'm having: something with cheesecake...been craving it all day. Attached to the cases are small dowels with more signs. Each sign has the flavors in the case beside it. I see it: NY cheesecake. HELL YES!!!

So we move to the line. I tell Em that she needs to pick a flavor. She's dawdling. "I don't know." I tell her that she needs to be prepared or I'll have to let everyone before us. I know I didn't say it in the nicest voice but I was already pissy. Steph pays for Em to have a bigger scoop.

It's our turn. I move to the open workers and say that I want cheesecake. "We don't have cheesecake." Yes you do, I tell them. "We don't have cheesecake." I point to the sign and say that it's on the sign. They tell me that I have to move down to the other worker where the sign is. O-K-A-Y!

I move down and remind Em to give the employee her coupon for the bigger size scoop. I remind her a couple of times and she finally does. So, looking at the employee directly in front of me I tell her that I want the cheesecake on a cone. "We don't have cheesecake." Yes, you do. "No, we don't." I point to the sign right freaking beside her head. Your sign says you have cheesecake, I say. She looks at it and says, "We don't have cheesecake but we have Key Lime. Sorry." O-fucking-kay. I mumble that it's stupid advertising something they don't have. I look really quickly and pick something else.

By this time, Em is sitting at a table licking her cone. She's had about one or two licks when I tell her it's time to go. I'm at the door when Em, Steph, and James join me. That's when I see it. A family led by this man coming in the door. I move to the side to let them pass. It was obvious that they weren't going to let us out. He had more room being outside compared to us who are cramped in a fucking regulation size Baskin Robbins....small as a mouse's nipple. But I step aside.

Walking out the door, I look behind me to see if my group is still in tow or being held up by stupid guy and his family. Em is squating down to pick up her brand new cone. The employee with the highlighter is watching my daughter as she picks it up. I rush back to her knowing she's going to be upset. Stupid ass is watching us the entire time. Em stands up and asks him what she's supposed to do with it. HE LOOKS THE FUCK AWAY! I tell her to throw it away in the makeshift trash by the door. I offer her mine and she doesn't want it....nothing she likes anyways. I look at the man who happens to be looking at us again. I ask him about getting another cone. HE LOOKS THE FUCK AWAY AGAIN! So, I walk up to the counter and explain that Em just dropped her brand new cone and can she get another one. "No, I'm sorry."

That's it. I've had it. I walk back towards the door...those huge three steps. Throw my cone like a professional pitcher at the trash and exclaim in a generous tone. "YOU GUYS SUCK!"

Out the door we go. I'm cussing the entire time: "FUCKING STORE!"

Emma walks to the car deflated and crying. I wait for James and Steph to make my apologies for being a bitch with a temper and to explain we were going home. I was calmer but still cussing like an illiterate fool with an IQ of four and a vocabulary of profanities. James at one point says, "You're an intelligent woman and I expected more than you suck." I can belt out a good rant but not when my hands are shaking. (warning: if my hands are shaking, move away from me!)

Now this is what makes this family outing more endearing. Asshole that walked in the door? Steph, James, and Em tells me that he bumped Emma which caused her to drop her cone in front of the idiot worker who looked away to avoid any involvement.

I didn't act very lady-like. I admit that. It has taken me years to calm my temper down to a small simmer rather than a full boil. BUT FUCKING BASKIN ROBBINS!!! MAY YOUR ICECREAM TURN SOUR THIS WEEK! STUPID FUCKING PUNK ASS BITCHES!!!

I was going to contact the store's general manager or owner for the idiocy of yesterday but I'm not very nice right now. It's not worth it. I'm sensitive right now.

On the way home, I stopped at the store and picked up ice cream for Emma and me. I will not go into the ordeal with my flat tire. I'm too wound up as is.

Literacy, good. Baskin Robbins, bad.

I got 18!

Carrie sent this in an email. DON'T CHEAT!!! It'll take all the fun out of it. The answers will be in the comments. Leave a comment with your score.

Subject: Mind Teasers

This can be more difficult than it looks - it just shows how little most of us really see!

There are 29 questions about things we see every day or have known about all our lives. How many can you get right?

These little simple questions are harder than you think--it just shows you how little we pay attention to the common place things of life. Put your thinking caps on.

No using anything on or in your desk or computer!

Can you beat 20?? (The average is 7) Write down your answers and check answers (on the bottom) AFTER completing all the questions.REMEMBER - NO CHEATING!!! Then, before you pass this on to your friends, change the number on the subject line to show many you got correct in the subject line.

LET'S JUST SEE HOW OBSERVANT YOU REALLY ARE.

1. On a standard traffic light, is the green on the top or bottom?

2. How many states are there? (Don't laugh, some people don't know)

3. In which hand is the Statue of Liberty's torch?

4. What six colors are on the classic Campbell's soup label?

5. What two letters don't appear on the telephone dial? (No cheating!)

6. What two numbers on the telephone dial don't have letters by them?

7. When you walk does your left arm swing w/your right or left leg?

8. How many matches are in a standard pack?

9. On the United States flag is the top stripe red or white?

10. What is the lowest number on the FM dial?

11. Which way does water go down the drain, counter or clockwise?

12. Which way does a "no smoking" sign's slash run?

13. How many channels on a VHF TV dial?

14. Which side of a women's blouse are the buttons on?

15. On a NY license plate, is New York on the top or bottom?

16. Which way do fans rotate?

17. Whose face is on a dime?

18. How many sides does a stop sign have?

19. Do books have even-numbered pages on the right or left side?

20. How many lug nuts are on a standard car wheel?

21. How many sides are there on a standard pencil?

22. Sleepy, Happy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Dopey, Doc. Who's missing?

23. How many hot dog buns are in a standard package?

24. On which playing card is the card maker's trademark?

25. On which side of a Venetian blind is the cord that adjusts the opening between the slats?

26. On the back of a $1 bill, what is in the center?

27. There are 12 buttons on a touch tone phone. What 2 symbols bear no digits?

28. How many curves are there in the standard paper clip?

29. Does a merry-go-round turn counter or clockwise?

the mood...at the moment

I'm not happy. Agitated. Slightly depressed. Nitpickingly pissy.

Update on the toes: They're not broken. The initial shock wore off hours later and I could actually bend them. I shocked the hell out of them with the tire but they are doing better. I know the nailbeds are bruised. I should probably take off the nailpolish and check them out...but I really don't give a fuck what they look like beneath the fire engine red. They ache still with the pain still extending into my foot. So, it's not just a simple bruise. I really hurt myself. BUT I don't think they are broken.

Moving on...I've got serious issues about some words out there in the world being used. Please in my vicinity don't use 'bling' or that 'hizznet, shizznet, f'shizzle' shit or whatever the fuck that is. Other things are tolerable because I say them in jest but those two...I'll fucking walk away from you. It's stupid. It's intolerable. It's the most idiotic, cretinous abuse of the language. I'm sure there are more words that annoy me but those two make me want to smother someone in honey and goose feathers.

Next topic:I woke from yet another darling of a dream. Monday night I had a dream that involved Vincent running around caves in the nude. I'm not going into further detail. Last night's dream involved someone I know and I'm NOT FUCKING HAPPY!!!!

So, I woke with that dream pressed into my cranial spaces. But my emotional Titanic moved into happier waters. Then my disobedient brain shifted again and I went into a sad roll of self loathing. Now? Now, I'm just pissy and unwelcoming.....give me a few minutes and I'll change colors for you again.

Key to Naomi: When I'm like this, I don't like anyone. It's a passing thing and don't take offense. You've done nothing but I can seriously say, I don't like you. It's just me. I avoid people as much as I can when I'm like this. And if I can't avoid you, I'll say very very very little. My friend Niambi said to me once, "I know when you are in a bad mood. You only say 'yep' and 'nope' instead of talking more."

Yep.

That's me. Other people pick up on it too. Hristos has pointed out time and time again that I resort to one word answers. Uh-huh. I'll tell you the secret why. In my head, I've cursed you in a sarcastic bitchy tone. I've yelled at you. I've taken profanity to new heights. I've rambled like a woman possessed about all the ills in the world. All in a matter of seconds. If I'm chatting with you onlne, I've actually written it all out. BUT I edit it down to what I know is right. I've filtered out everything that is not nice and not right. I've deleted everything that is not deserved and could ruin a friendship. And you get, One-word answer Naomi. It's just safer when I'm in this state of....Naominess.

Next ramble: There are some freaking blog snobs out there.

Manic thought no. 15, 230, 647 for the day: I want some M&Ms. Saw a commercial for them last night and I don't think I'm going to feel satisfied until I've had mine...yeah, I'm still talking about M&Ms.

And ever wondered...what's the written rule about meteorologist being funny?! Al Roker sucks. He's not funny. I can't stand him because of his attempt at humor. Bloody hell! He's a good guy, so it seems. He does good charity work but please....someone write for him. There are a few meterologists out there that make me laugh or are just personable. Brian Teglund at Carrie's news station in Memphis and Jim Loznicka at a station in Mobile AL. BUT somebody please just shut Roker up.

Damn day! I need something.

Emma's love

When Em was about one year old, I decided to buy her a baby doll. I didn't want to spend an exorbitant amount because I wasn't sure she would like one. So, off to Wal-mart I went without her on the search of a doll.

I wanted something simple that Em could tote around everywhere including the bath. There were too many frilly ones with voice chips, ones with lashes longer than the hair on their heads, babes that could pee and dolls that could walk. I was getting frustrated with the variety. I was upset that all the dolls that were larger than life and came with too many options. I wanted a simple doll that a small one could lug about with no problems.

I was going to put the search off for another day at another store when I saw the dolls. Simple doll with a plastic, hairless head and a sweet smell that must have been mixed in with the plastic as it was being made. It was a doll wearing a robe. Plastic miniatures of shampoo and baby powder accompanied the baby, and I had a choice in theme colors. And the price was only five dollars!

I grabbed a doll in yellow and was elated.

Emma fell in love with her instantly. And when we talked (as much as a young toddler and her mom can talk) about names, our plastic purchase was christened Isabella.

Isabella.

The memories of Emmaline and Isabella can fill a set of books.

The first time Em bathed with her, Isabella's little head filled with water. At the end of the bath, I emptied her out by removing her head. Emmaline screamed when she saw Izzy's head come off. I had to turn from her to finish draining the water out and put her head back on. Any bathing after that, Em would give me Isabella and turn her own head away while closing her eyes while I did the grim deed of emptying.

When Emma had her naked period, Isabella went about town sans clothes. Adults would try to dress the doll and my daughter would strip her naked in a frenzied frustrated fury.

Isabella has received gifts of clothes and accessories. She has her own stroller, a doll walker (picked up from a thrift store), and a doll Snugli. She's a spoiled doll.

Iz travels with us whenever we go out of town. She's been to Missouri, Wisconsin, back and forth between Tennessee and Florida, and even to Disney World. Now that Emma is older, she is responsible for getting her travelling entertainment together. On a trip to Memphis not too long ago, she forgot Izzy and we refused to turn around. Emmaline screamed and cried incessantly for the first thirty minutes and was miserably lonely the entire trip.

Needless to say, Isabella means the world to my child. Every morning Emmaline kisses her, lays her against the pillow, and covers her up. Every night Isabella is cradled in Em's arms until she falls asleep. Emma has loved her so much, she's missing eyelashes on one eye and her plastic skin is stained with dirt. Isabella's toes are painted; and after eight years, her clothes still get changed by the little mother that loves her so much. And don't dare mishandle her or you'll have an eight year old to deal with.

Emma was never forced into loving this doll or any gender based toys. Since she was old enough to interact with toys, I've bought playthings from both the 'girls' and 'boys' sections at the stores. She's grown up with trucks, kitchen sets, Legos, Bratz, puzzles, cards, Pokemon, games, blocks, and the lot. But, Isabella outweighs them all in value.

My daughter will be nine years old in August, and she's self conscious of many things already. She's going through her period of peer acceptance, and any little thing can jeopardize that in her mind's eye. Em sometimes refuses me a kiss in the morning when I drop her off because she doesn't want to be embarrassed. She frets about her hair and her skiin. She's growing up. BUT...she'll still drag Isabella, with her scent that is still as sweet as the first day she came home, about and cares less what others think ( Iz has been to school with Em). Emmaline loves this doll....even more than the cats.

What happened to Funyuns?

Eggs, 'used' girls panties, and yes...even toilet paper (it's a theme running here at Light and Darkness. TP for everyone). It's amazing what you can find in a vending machine in this modern day of convenience.

I found this at little. yellow. different. Thank you, sir for the direct.

Reason no. 643 for wearing shoes

Accidentally dropping the spare tire squarely on your first and second toes whilst trying to put it back in the trunk.

Um, I think I've broken my toes. The pain is radiating from the toes into the metatarsals. There's very little bending happening. The bottom pad of my foot directly connected to the big toe aches too. And I only dropped the tire on the nail portions of my first and second toes. There's some swelling and redness on the top of my foot in the area leading into those toes.

I've never broken a bone so I don't know. I HAVE torn cartilage and and the supporting framework in my knee and ankle.

This is definitely worse than stubbing a toe.

Perhaps when the initial pains subside, I'll know more.

Sad thing? I haven't learned my lesson. I'll continue to be barefooted.

S pam and p Orn

Anyone else getting a huge amount of spam filtered to your inbox instead of the trash because of t his stup id techni que? It pisses me off! I know I shouldn't be bothered by it...it's just superflous mail I can delete without opening but it isn't just that. Stupid ass spammers. They always find a way to put crap in my email.

Free p 0rn.
These p ussies are h0t
[none]
Give me a freaking break! It's not a difficult thing to find *wink wink* photos on the internet.

Wish there was a way to make internet spammers pay a fee (50 cents) for each message sent. Give all that money to some charity like a literacy program.

Stupid asses would easily find a way around that.

I'm pimping again

Ok, dear ones....great news for {public domain}! They made it to the next round. BUT it's time to vote again. We're going to skyrocket Doug and his mates to the music stratosphere. It's not just because we like him (though he's a sweetie) but they really are good.

Even if you don't agree, vote for him anyways...or I'll have to go Guido on your ass. Seriously, this is a fantastic opportunity for {public domain} and I would love for us to help them get it. Vote as many times as you want but put at least five in.

Ok....my pimping is done for today.

A wish for Sami

Today is Blazing Jez's birthday. So, head on over to her and give her some birth anniversary lovin'!

Sami, Em and I want to say Happy Birthday. We hope that it is filled with extraordinarily scrumptious delights. We send vibes of love and pray that the next year is filled with great blessings.

Have lots of fun, woman! I'm glad we've had a chance to cross paths in our life and wish the best for you.

Happy Birthday Sami!!!

Mr. Sandman, send me a dream

Sadly, I did not dream of a sexy man last night. The dream I have brought into the waking world was about white, fluffy, double sheets of toilet paper. I laugh and weep as I recall the vivid bits.

Ok, let me preface this by saying that if someone offers you a helping hand...don't become desparate before saying "YES! HELL YES!" Just humbly say thank you and don't argue.

So, last night I had a dream that involved toilet paper. The first part is me, I think, sitting on the pot staring at my last dwindling roll of TP. I'm dreadfully sad because it's the last roll and I don't know how I'm going to get any more. Cuts to me walking into the bathroom the next morning or some other time later. Scattered about the room are rolls of toilet paper in varying stages of dwindling downdom, from brand new rolls with the ends still glued down to a roll with one quarter of it left. I call someone in to the bathroom with me...I don't know if it was Emma and someone else, but I know there was a man. I exclaim that it's a miracle. God answered my prayers. I explain that we had the last bit of the roll left and I prayed for my toilet paper, and miraculously more toilet paper was suddenly here. I wept.

Strange, yes. Yes, I know.

Now to the shameful bit. We have less than a quarter of a roll left. I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to do...thus the dream...I've got a few dollars in rolled pennies left. That's it. That's all my money save for the twenty-five dollars I have in my savings account that keeps it alive.

Folks, poverty is when a) you are thinking of stealing toilet paper from the facilities of your former employment while you go up there to visit the friend that works in the cafe and b)you actually dream of toilet paper as a miracle of God.

I laugh at this. I really do. How can one not find this funny? But if I actually start laughing in real life, I'm going to cry.

Fucking god! My life is insane. Sad and insane.

1..2..3..the answers that be me

You know what makes a woman pissy? Posting the answers to the following question and when she goes to post, her journalling service goes down. Damnit!!!

Ali asks:
1. If you could change the people in this world what would be (one positive and one negetive) attribute you would change?
Tolerance and indifference. People tend to stay in their comfort zones especially when confronted with something new and different. You can't fault someone for being ignorant. It happens that people have never had the opportunity to learn about the new thing. But when a person refuses to try and acquire new information regarding different people, races, cultures, sexual preferences, gender, ages, etc....when they choose to remain indifferent to the opportunity to learn? Hate, bigotry, prejudice are born. You don't have to agree or subscribe to another's way of life but tolerance is key.

2. List the ideal mate for you? (with your senses: sight, smell, feel, sound)?
Well, I prefer that he is taller than I. I like an expressive face. Though I prefer dark hair and dark eyes, that's not the hard and fast rule. I truly can say that I am attracted to personality more than physical appearance. Ideally, he has to have an wickedly awesome sense of humor. Be calmer than me as to compliment my more active one. Intelligent, I prefer to have someone I can have a conversation with on anything that pops into my head or his. Creative in some way. Loves children and pets. Adventurous so that we're not sitting around watching the television constantly....blah. Compassionate. Well-spoken. Says 'I love you' and shows there are meaning behind the words without reservation. Has a sense of spirituality...doesn't mean he has to be a church-goer. He just has to have that spirit of something more within him. Good start?

3. Open toe sandles or closed, and why the choice?
Open toed sandals BECAUSE I prefer to be barefooted. The more freedom I can give my feet, the happier I am.

Lori's 3 Burning Questions:
1. What do you like most about people?
Our ability to be compassionate. There are definitely those people in the world that refuse to share that gift. We see it often. And on the flip side, we have the empathetic who don't go a day without feeling and helping their brethern. Compassion is a trait shared among the rich and poor alike, the educated elite and the mentally disabled, the sinner and the saint.

2. What connects you to your spirit or sense of spirituality?
It's just a feeling. I don't have a specific bauble like my rosaries, my mini Buddha, or the picture of Ganesha that reminds me that I'm spiritual or spirit filled. I feel connected by that invisible tether between me and God. I sense it when I look at nature in all her forms. And despite all the uncertainty and instability in my life, there is this calm within me like the stone pit of a peach. It's at my core and if I know it will be solid no matter what happens to the outside. I just know.

3. What's the funniest (and I do mean so good you pee yourself) joke that you know?
I laugh every time I tell this joke....well, actually story. I've posted it on Light and Darkness but had to shorten it because of the original posting on AOL with its character limitation. It's the Jesus at the Pearly Gates story. FUNNY!!! It's so funny. I tell it much better in person. Bit of the dramatics with it.

Lillie three:
1. If you could change one thing in your life what would that be.
In all honesty, I fear changing anything. I just know that several of the decisions and who I am led up to the people in my life especially Emmaline. BUT let's assume that noone would be absent in my life due to this change....I would change my mental illness. Bipolar has completely ruled my life. I've had great moments and horrific times. In general though, nothing I do is without influence of my mental illness. Everything from tying my shoes to saying 'I love you.' I don't exaggerate.

2. Who do you think is the most beautiful person you have ever seen?
Emmaline. If I have more children in the future, I would add them to the list. To see her interaction and discovery of the world and her own self, is an amazing thing. I've been part of her exploration of her life from the moment of her conception and it's truly a beautiful thing to see a person develop. I think the most beautiful person is the one you love the most and I've yet to find anyone I love more than Emmaline.

3. If you had the chance to go any place in the world where would that be?
I can only pick one?! I don't have an absolute preference to this question, because where I want to travel to are completely equal in my attention. I'd love to walk through the Valley of the Kings as much as travel to my birthplace in the Philippines. But if I were travelling around the world and had to start with one destination...I've always wanted to go to Italy. If you want specifics, then Venice. I want to experience this city before the waters erode its history and present.

Alicia's query:
1. Chocolate or vanilla?
Whenever I reach for a pudding or order a shake, it's vanilla. I'm by far a plain Jane but between the two...most definitely vanilla.

2. Who would you like to meet most?
You and Lillie got together on a couple of these, right? Eh, I've always wanted to meet the Pope. I don't want any Pope after or any before. It has to be the current man with the funny hat. But I also want to meet many of my online buds. I have yet to meet my Hristos in person. Ultimately...and this is going to be a hokey answer...I want to meet the woman I really am.

3. What one bit of advice would you give everyone you come across?
Every person you meet changes your life so use the encounter as an opportunity to improve yourself which in turn improves the world. Whether that person is distateful or the most saintly, how you respond to him or her is a reflection of your compassion and love for the world...and yourself. Don't waste the interaction.

And last but definitely not least, Carrie wonders:
If you had to give up food or sex, which would it be?
I've gone without sex. It's not pretty. And as long as I've got water....I should probably answer this question when I'm not so sexually frustrated.

If you could have one additional physical attribute, usually associated with another animal--ie. wings, fur, sharp teeth, claws, speed, four stomachs--what would it be, and why?
Ability to swim for long periods of time beneath the water whether from gills or uber-lungs. My first thought was wings to have that floating sensation in the air but when I was writing an analogy for why, I was comparing it to swimming weightlessly in the water. I want to survive in the water's deep.

If your house burned (and Emma was safely somewhere else), what one thing would you save?
My box of letters and journals. Actually my journals are in my bedside table but assuming I can grab my letters from love ones, which is housed in a large covered plastic tub in my room, I'd just throw the journals in it as well.

...
Still looking forward to more questions.

Uncomfortable

I had a horrible dream last night involving Mrs. Devine. She called yesterday asking whether or not Shawn showed up to finish the house. Said she couldn't reach him.

Here's the thing....I know her plot. My brother lives with her. He has a cell phone with voicemail and caller ID. She may not have reached him immediately, but the man would have seen or talked to her eventually. She just wanted to call me. She does this.

So, as a result my dreams were laden with the woman and police officers.

Stupid ass subconscious!

the deadly seven castaways

Since we're on the subject of Gilligan's Island, I'm sure I'm not the only one who has thought that the castaways embody the seven deadly sins. Am I? There has to be someone out there that has thought the same thing. And the island? Represents the separation of man from God for embracing those sins. Perhaps?

Pride: Mrs. Howell - So vain about being rich. Notice how she always mentions Thurston paying or buying something?

Envy: MaryAnn - one word....Ginger

Lust: Ginger - Hello?! self explanatory

Anger: Professor - This one is a little hard to see. But according to the intrepretation of the sins on The seven deadly sins revealed, "anger is manifested in the individual who spurns love and opts instead for fury. It is also known as Wrath." How many times did we see him spurn Ginger's advances? And fury reminds me of the obsessive passion one has in his/her interest. The professor was constantly working on one invention after another, sometimes sequestering himself to the hut and forgoing any social interaction. And you can sense he was a bit touchy anytime someone interrupted him...like Ginger who was always trying seduce him.

Greed: Mr. Howell - How many times did we see Mr. Howell monopolize what Gilligan accidentally stumbles upon?

Sloth: Gilligan - Ok. I think honestly Gilligan is pre-supposed in the sloth role but he sure did alot of work for everyone else. But he did like to meander, didn't he?

Gluttony: Skipper - Whatever? Why is it that Tom Hanks' Castaway character lost his chubbiness and the Skipper looked like he ate a couple of people on that tour that we don't know about?

So, they are all in their roles of the sins but that doesn't exclude them from committing any of the other sins. Anytime Ginger (who is pretty prideful) put on a dress, the men drooled. And like I've said...Gilligan sure did alot of other people's work (lazy asses!).

Anyways...just had to follow that train of thought.

...here on Gilligan's Isle

Fuck! I had a longer post and it was shit! My brain rebels at times. It's when there is a shift in the wind of emotions. I go from being absolutely brilliant to being the fucking town idiot. I feel like I'm the Professor and Gilligan in one body.

I've got that feeling again that bad things are going to happen.

I'm a fucking loon!

shit shit shit shit shit

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
a tale of a fateful trip.
That started from this tropic port,
aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a mighty sailin' man,
the skipper brave and sure.
Five passengers set sail that day,
for a three hour tour, a three hour tour………
The weather started getting rough,
the tiny ship was tossed.
If not for the courage of the fearless crew,
the Minnow would be lost; the Minnow would be lost.
The ship took ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle,
with Gilligan, the Skipper too,
the Millionaire, and his Wife,
the Movie Star, the Professor and Mary Ann,
here on Gilligan's Isle.

...

So this is the tale of our castaways,
they're here for a long, long time.
They'll have to make the best of things,
it's an uphill climb.
The first mate and his skipper too,
will do their very best,
to make the others comfortable,
in the tropic island nest.
No phones, no lights, no motor cars,
not a single luxury.
Like Robinson Crusoe,
it's primitive as can be.
So join us here each week my friend,
you're sure to get a smile.
From seven stranded Castaways,
Here on Gilligan's Isle.

Hi. My name is Naomi...

...and I'm a glue skin peeler. I first discovered I was addicted to peeling glue skins in kindergarten. The lovely creamy feel of glue being smeared on my palm. It felt delicious. And the mystical way the glue soaked into the cracks of my skin molding itself to my fingerprints and palm lines. Magical. But the best feeling? Peeling of the dry glue skin. Seeing the imprint of the fine details of my hand. There is such an orgiastic release from pulling the glue skin from the skin beneath. Holding my hand still during the drying process building up tremendous pressure and anticipation. And then slowly ripping the adhesive glove from my body. Mmmmm.

Umm, yeah.

...Who's next?

Baked chicken or Reuben soup

My darling pie is home sick from school. I kept her home yesterday because she ate something on Wednesday that didn't quite agree with her. She slept very little Wednesday due to her late night vigil and prayers to the porcelain god. I did send her to school today; she seemed much better with only a little belly ache. With all the crap with CPS and stuff I'm not going into here, I felt I had to try sending her to school but told Em to report to the school clinic if she felt worse. I was called within an hour.

Poor dear. We haven't decided which did it to her. She had baked chicken at school on Wednesday, and she ate a bowl of Reuben soup at the cafe (where Steph works) that afternoon. I think it was the soup. Steph had a bowl of it also and ended with a cramping stomach.

My poor, poor dears.

May is coming

Ok. I'm giving everyone heads up for May because it's important. May is Mental Health Month. I think in this era of awareness that this is quite an important one, and don't you just hate it when you are in the middle of a month and discover it's an awareness month for something?!

Mental Health does not have to be strictly about mental illnesses like bipolar, schizophrenia, borderline personality disorder, etc etc. Mental health affects one's outlook on life and displays itself in many faces. Mothers suffer from post-partum depression. Teenagers are being bullied and subsequently releasing their emotions in violent outbursts. Children are being afflicted with eating disorders on both sides of the spectrum with their obsessiveness with food and body image. Spring is upon us and believe it or not...suicides increase during this time of year.

Next month is a very important month to all of us. How we see ourselves and others is key to how we approach our daily lives. And for those of us with chemical imbalances in our brain's physiological make-up, it's just a wee bit harder.

Educate yourself on mental illness. There is still such a horrible stigma in our society. How evident is this? Most insurances limit your mental health visits to a small number during the course of a year. Educate yourself to help promote a more comforting environment for society to talk about and accept mental illness.

Be aware of those in your life who may be struggling with issues. She may be your mother. He could be your priest. She may be your neighbor. He could be your son. As a person suffering from bipolar, the time my friends take asking me about my illness or learning about it on their own means the world to me especially with a family who is not so accepting.

You don't have to save the world. And it's not your responsiblity to save a mentally ill person from drastic choices. But perhaps knowing what your options are when confronted with mental health issues will help eradicate some of the stereotypes. Just knowing who you could call when your friend becomes morbidly depressed helps.

The history of mental health is fascinating. From the age when societies put holes in a person's head to release the spirits possessing them to electric shock therapy and even the Prozac revolution. It's chilling stuff. I only ask that you arm yourself with knowledge. You can volunteer. You can donate. You can be an activist. BUT the first step is awareness.

So...Next month is a short time away. Be prepared for Naomi commentaries and of course, you've got all my emotions in technicolor brilliance here.

Google Directory for Mental Health Organizations
Mental Health Foundation
The National Mental Health Association
Psychiatry24x7

The floor is yours.

It's meme time with a twist of lime. Got this from Alicia. And aren't you all just a little curious to know some more about me?! Like I don't have a big mouth anyways with my life. Ok. Just do it. It ain't gonna kill ya. I'll answer in an upcoming post. Give me some juicy ones too.

I want everyone who reads this to ask me 3 questions, no more no less. Ask me anything you want. Then I want you to go to your journal, copy and paste this allowing your friends (including myself) to ask you anything. (Do a trackback ping thing so I know you copied it.)

Concerta, for one

Quentin Tarantino is a spaz. I think his movies are fantastic. Seriously, I love them. BUT FUCK! Tarantino bothers the fuck out of me. He needs to NOT be on the press junkets for his films. Let the stars do it.

He's either afflicted with the most extreme case of ADHD or he is so freaking coked up every time he opens his mouth. I swear I've seen him completely snockered during an interview.

Movies are genius. Man is annoying.

Mixed bag

I discovered today that a casual friend (those people who you could see becoming a friend you see regularly but currently only see them occassionally) has had a horrible incident happen. Her bipolar mother tried to kill herself this past weekend. She overdosed and last word is that she is in a coma. It's such a sad thing.

With Bill's death, J's mom's suicide attempt, and this crap with CPS in the last week, I've dusted off the cobwebs on my appreciation of life. It's been an emotional week. I've been scared and nervous and unsure of myself. BUT....I've had to look at these signs and just say WOW! Bill has shown me how quickly we can go. It's not a new message but it's just been surreal. Expect the ol' boy to step outside any minute now and smoke a cig. J's mom? Geez. I can only imagine what J is going through. She's an only child and seemed very close to her mom. Her last conversation with her mom was about moving here. Em is J. Hmmmm. And the CPS bullshit...I'm a damn good mother! I've got nothing to hide. I've got nothing to be ashamed of. I've lived my life for almost thirty-two years being the best person I can be. I'm carrying a lot of baggage but look at what I'm accomplishing with little and no support at times.

Ok...enough of the introspection in my head...for the moment.

Moving on, we received Emma's FCAT (achievement test) scores today. She's in the third grade (setting the on-target average at Level 3) and on the reading portion she achieved a score equivalent to Level 4 and a Level 5 in math. I'm extremely proud of her but it doesn't surprise me. Em's a smart girl. Having said that, I'm not a huge fan of testing. I think they pigeonhole children and adults alike. I know there needs to be a barometer of sorts but I know a large number of people who are horrible test takers but do well in tasks, subjects, and the like. They are needed but I think an institution that labels and limits a child or adult commits the worse crime.

The FCAT at the third grade level is very important. Parents were sent letters to sign before the test stating we understood that if our children failed the FCAT, they would fail the grade. I was so angry signing and asked the teacher during conference what happened to those children that were nervous test takers and failed but excelled in class throughout the year. She explained that the student's record would be examined and a decision to pass/fail would be based on scores and class performance. Do you know how many parents don't know this? People freak out here in Florida over these stupid scores. I've seen children stress out during FCAT week. It's like watching pageant moms and their Barbie doll girls or sports dad and their pee wee baseball playing boys. Blah!

Bill

I live in a neighborhood filled with retired citizens. There are a handful of children and as many adults my age. Most of the homes are owned by people well into their golden years. I don't know many of them and for that I feel bad.

Neighborhoods are the community you seek out to put your roots down. To give your family a support system of sorts. When Em learned to ride her bicycle this past month, I've discovered that most of the "grandparents" of the neighborhood were sitting at their windows watching her and cheering her on. I don't expect any of them to give more than a neighborly nod but it's that nod that makes you feel at peace in a small area lined with houses and lawns. It makes a sterile house a warm home. And a zip code with anonymous strangers becomes a neighborhood of people who expect to see each other daily.

Bill died today. He was my 68 year old neighbor on the right. I talked to him a couple of days ago, and he said he was thinking of going back to work because retirement is boring. He edged my lawn just because he was already doing his. A neighbor on the block said she saw him walking this morning. His girlfriend's son said he went to Wal-mart on his daily outing and bought little flowers to plant in the yard he took so much pride in. His golden age beauty said he shampooed his living room carpet earlier this day. Then he sat down and had a heart attack.

Life is fleeting, isn't it?

Nightmares II

I feel my wings have been clipped. I fear writing about life and emotions now. I fear someone would use my words against me if this space is found. My change of emotions, my hard knocks, my struggles. And the support I usually get from releasing everything here?

sigh...

This space is so important to me. And now I fear it.

Nightmares that come true

Today my fragile world is crumbling in on me and Emma. A knock at the door this morning brought my paranoia to a whole new reality. Someone in Emma's and my lives has reported me as neglecting Emmaline. A representative of Child Services came to my house today and said she had to follow up on the charge of neglect and abuse. Because of anonymity I am not allowed to know the identity of the person accusing me of this. Now, this representative has to dig into aspects of my life to ensure that Emma isn't being victimized. She has to talk to my psychiatrist, my neighbors, Emma's school, my friends. I am under a microscope.

I have an idea of who may have done this. I have two people in mind. Because of the detail of the allegations, I suspect one person more than the other.

I try my best to work at my life. I try and I know I don't have everything in my control or up to par. I have no trust in anyone now. Anyone could have done this.

Now my name sits in a database of people investigated for child abuse and neglect. Even if this blows over quickly, this scars me. It scars Emma.

I'm just waiting for something worse to happen. I need my friends. I need someone to help.

How was your day?

WTF is he saying?!

Does anyone else feel like they are literally losing IQ points listening to Bush?

Friday a.m.

After some small hurdles, I have funds to go grocery shopping. THANK GOD!!!! I was down to rolling pennies in the piggy bank to buy milk...yes, I know that's sad but a mom has to do what a mom has to do. But anyway, I am going serious shopping today. Woo Hoo!

No, I don't have a job. Don't bug me about it. Sorry about the crankiness on that but it's a touch subject. I know I'm being a lazy ass...there is actually more to that than being slothful. And I know that I can't compalin about not having money...but I WILL!! I am actually heading out to a couple of places today to make them aware of my existence.

My sister's family is coming into town tomorrow. My brother-in-law is coming this time. And Zavier, my oldest nephew is excited about the beach and seeing Emma again. My brother wants all of us to get together while they are here and go to dinner. I don't know how that's going to happen. I still refuse to see Mrs. Devine.

Speaking of my siblings....Tuesday, I had spoken to my sis and she asked about Easter. I told her about the bunny's demise. I unleashed everything happening in my life right now. She wants Em and me to move back to Tennessee and live with her and the family. I can't do it. Not really pride...I don't have any. It's the fear of disappointing her. Bothering her. Getting in her and Brian's way. Being a burden. Causing tension. Shit like that.

Wednesday...FedEx truck came and we got a package from Jenn. She had made up an Easter basket for Em and sent me giftcard too. So completely unexpected and so very nice. That evening, my brother Shawn stopped by and he had a basket for Em too. I was amazed. Shawn visits rarely and the basket was just awesome. Easter bunny is dead but Em is overjoyed that her aunt and uncle remembered her. She's still reeling from the Easter love.

I love my siblings.

Missing a couple of friends I haven't heard from. I tried to be discrete and leave a little reminder to talk to me. DIDN'T WORK!!! So, I'm calling you out. I really am. I'm going to let everyone know that I miss you and want to hear from you and am concerned about what the fuck you are doing. I gave time. BUT now. Now I am going to look totally neurotic and completely nutters. But I do it for lub. Much lub and affectionate.

HRISTOS

MURRAY

Ahem.

sooooooo...Since my dating life is non-existent, I'm crushing on stars. Loving my Vincent D. He's so fine. He's so fine, he blows my mind. Hey Vinnie. Hey hey. Hey Vinnie.

I've been drooling for Goran Visnjic. He's the Croatian doctor on ER. *wiping drool from corner of mouth* Yummmmmm!

Also, Miguel Ferrer. He plays Dr. Macy on Crossing Jordan. Didn't he just play a great bad guy in Robocop? That scene where he drags himself across the floor with the blown kneecaps. He has just matured sooooo nicely. Beautiful with his bald head. YUUUUUUMMMM!!

Since we are on yummies on Crossing Jordan. Ivan Sergei.

Geez. I need some lovin'!

And now for something completely different...

A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics ?" Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: #1. I'm the head of the family, so call me The President. #2 Your mother is the administrator of the money, so we call her the Government. #3 We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the People. #4 The nanny, we'll consider her the Working Class. #5 And your baby brother, we'll call him the Future. Now think about that and see if it makes sense." So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad has said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying,so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parent's room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he looks in the peephole and finds his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy says to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now." The father says, "Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about." The little boy replies, "The President is screwing the Working Class while the Government is sound asleep. The People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit."

This segment has been brought to you courtesy of Ali.

Primal instinct

I'm horny.

Is there a more eloquent way to say it when the itch is bigger than the whole of Texas?

School Projects

Oh, Alicia! Thank you. Thank you so much.

So worth the few seconds to click over.

Mystery's form

Ok. I've had to modify my drawing. When I scanned it, it was entirely too light so I had to muck with the contrast and brightness in Photoshop. Bleh! Looks better in my journal.

A little about what I used and when I did it. I was bored at work one day....this is when I had my own office and a big desk with a smooth surface. We could burn candles in our space and I collected the black ash pieces from my burned candle wicks. I started drawing on the desk and writing poetry and then decided to move to my journal. So, my mystery is from simple wick ash. I sometimes use the burned ends of matchsticks as well. I have drawing charcoals but I just don't like those as much. I haven't gotten the nick of it.

And I emphatically state: I AM NOT AN ARTIST!!!!

Just Keep Swimming by Dory, Finding Nemo

Hey Mr Grump Gills
You know what you gotta do when life gets you down?
Just keep swimming
Just keep swimming
Just keep swimming swimming swimming
What do we do we swim, swim, swim
OH HO HO How I love to swim
When you WAAAAAANNTTT to swim you want to swim

For the voyeur in you

You know I'm working on a 100 Things list of the non-traditional blog sort (trying to come up with 100 things I love about myself and wouldn't change at all). But the more and more I read others' lists, I want one that is 'Just the facts, Ma'am.' Know what a mean? The traditional 100 found on About pages. I'm such a nerd wanting to sit at the in crowd's table....nah, not really...sort of. And these are just coming out of my head so there's no real order.

1. Green is my favorite color so one Christmas, my parents were a bit overzealous and bought EVERYTHING in green. It pissed me off.

2. I've never received a driving ticket but I've had my license suspended. I got my first one in February 2005 for expired tags. DAMN YOU, SCOOBY DOO! I was doing good too.

3. I can read Tarot cards with amazing insight but still have to cheat with the book on card meanings.

4. I won't touch a Ouija board because of freaky things that happened the last time we played with one.

5. I love walking around the house nude because I think I'm more attractive naked than dressed.

6. I hate my body but would willingly live as a nudist.

7. My pregnant mother, sister, and I were in a car accident that should have killed us when I was three years old but my mother was the only one that came out of it with a bruise. I remember it vividly.

8. I refused to go grocery shopping with my mother when I was approximately seven years old. Within the time it takes to pull out our driveway, my mother just barely had enough time to grab my siblings and get out before our van exploded;

9. I met John Cusack when I was a high school freshman, and until that day I had a crush on him. Now I think he's a jerk.

10. I was a crowd scene extra in his film Eight Men out but have never seen the movie to see if I'm visible.

11. I get crushes often including women.

12. I have a crush on Angelina Jolie...yes, Carrie...Angelina Jolie.

13. These have led me to question my sexuality several times in my life but I'm straight...except for those couple of times. *wink wink*

14. I have an intense love for pens and would have no qualms about taking yours if you offer...even if I never use it...ever.

15. I have a strawberry shaped birthmark on my right knee that as a child I believed that everyone had the same kind on the same place.

16. Jesus use to scare me because of those damn Catholic Sacred Heart pictures.

17. I give people an insane amount of second chances but once I decide I've had enough, you are completely cut out of my life

18. I'm attracted to all types of men except Filipinos.

19. The anesthesia wore off during my knee surgery and I could feel the surgeon cutting and moving about.

20. Sometime during the ages of 4-6, I swam through a swarm of jellyfish and was stung on all the exposed parts of my body.

21. Some of my past jobs include working for the IRS, Dunkin' Donuts, securities department (stocks/bonds) of a major bank.

22. I went to high school with the niece of Clarence Clemmons, the saxophonist of Bruce Springsteen's E-Street Band.

23. I narrated a documentary my high school ecology class produced.

24. A goal of mine is to be the voice of an animated character.

25. I learned to play poker before learning to play checkers at six years old but I still suck at it.

26. A friend of the family who was a cross dresser taught me how to play checkers. I never thought him odd.

27. I won $1500 playing Bingo once but ended up with only $500 of it an hour later.

28. I once healed a frog with a bloody leg. Haven't been able to heal anything since...just kidding. Making sure you're still paying attention.

29. One of my first winters in the States was spent in Wisconsin and I got pneumonia.

30. The only hangover I've ever had was after drinking a gallon of margaritas, a liter of Long Island Tea, and shots of rum.

31. My alcohol of choice for a very long time was Vodka.

32. I laugh at drunk people who can't handle their shit.

33. I have an intense fear of heights so much so that I get sick to my stomach watching a person stand in a chair. It doesn't stop me from doing things except stand on extremely high balconies.

34. I love practical jokes.

35. I'm one degree separated from Martin Lawrence and Leonardo di Caprio through the same person.

36. One of my favorite movies is Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

37. I've been hypnotized twice for two separate comedy shows.

38. I worked for a urologist and now know that penile implants do NOT make your penis longer or larger.

39. I'll use generic brands for everything EXCEPT ketchup...HEINZ only.

40. I talk in my sleep.

41. I love being barefooted and my feet hate me for it.

42. Coffee puts me to sleep.

43. I can drink a Starbucks' Red Eye, a Red Bull and take a yellow jacket and I could still fall asleep in five minutes.

44. I sleep very little except when I'm depressed; then I oversleep.

45. I've suffered from migraines since I was a kid. Some are so severe that I have been afflicted with temporary blindness and limb paralysis.

46. I have prophetic dreams.

47. I've had a Marian vision.

48. I've also seen the devil...sounds crazy, yes?! But it's true.

49. My daughter's biological father is 13 years older than me.

50. I have only one child but there was one other time that I visited the doc for a pregnancy test.

51. I started labor with Em at 2 a.m on a Saturday but didn't have her until 6:59 p.m. on Monday.

52. I thought about becoming a nun for a very long time but decided against it because I knew I would love and want sex too much.

53. I got dragged by my car once and got serious road rash on my leg.

54. I read no less than five books at a time. If I don't, I get bored and won't read.

55. I've been journalling since elementary school but sadly threw all my early journals away.

56. I love taking photos but am lazy about putting them in albums. My daughter is almost nine ten and haven't put a photo in an album since she was two.

57. I've seriously thought about going bald just to see how my hair would grow back.

58. I've eaten shark, alligator, frog legs, chitlins, balut among other things and loved all of them.

59. There are only two things that I have eaten thus far that have disgusted me: asparagus and durian, a native fruit of the Philippines.

60. One of my favorite foods is dinuguan, a Filipino food also called 'blood pudding.'

61. When I was younger, I was mistaken for older. Then once I hit college, everyone thinks I look younger.

62. I have one tattoo but want to get another.

63. My life's obsessions? I want to be an architect, an archaeologist, an anthropologist, an actor, and an author.

64. I've used the same scent of the same brand of deodorant for over ten years. Degree Shower Fresh because I've found nothing that works better or smells finer.

65. I have a thing for smells especially the individual scents of people.

66. My memories are recalled easier by what grade I was in or where I lived rather than how old I was or what year it happened.

67. I have to count backwards using my fingers or paper to figure year or age yet I was in AP calculus in high school.

68. I excelled in everything in school except reference skills like detailed alphabetizing and the library system. It takes me a bit to find a listing in a phone book and I swear that NONE of the books I want are ever in the library (computer says they are available but I'll be damned if I can find them).

69. I love recipies. I have a major thing for recipies. Recipies make me squirm. I collect them and books but don't use them often. Don't ask me why.

70. I've been known to be a flirt. I don't realize that I am but evidently it's true.

71. I don't like to do favorites lists. I like too many things and it always depends what mood I'm in.

72. I stole a piece of furniture from work with permission from my boss.

73. I've had 25 different addresses (that I can recall) but have moved more times than that BUT have lived in only 8 different states and two different countries.

74. One of my favorite actors is Audrey Hepburn for her craft and her humanitarian work.

75. I love karaoke.

76. I was a Duranie.

77. The first CD I bought was Pink Floyd's The Wall.

78. I do not lie when I say I love all genres of music especially favoring blues and old jazz.

79. I can have an orgasm from a back rub or from eating the right food....like sushi.

80. I can do the cherry stem/tongue thing. Eh, no big deal.

81. If I had the body, I would jump at the chance to be a stripper.

82. Every sexual partner I've been with has been more than pleased.

83. I love to kiss, hug, touch, and cuddle.

84. Both simplicity and complexity make me happy.

85. I am a curious one.

86. Love flea markets, yard sales, thrift stores, dumpster diving.

87. I laugh during the worst moments of my life such as during suicidal depression, impending danger, and extreme fear.

88. Though I don't watch Survivor, if I were on it my luxury item would be microwave kettle corn. Psychological warfare, man.

89. I love the ocean but would never live on a beach. Stupid ass people who continually build houses after hurricanes repeatedly destroy them. Sheesh!

90. I don't have penis envy but I wish I could be a man for a day just to see what it's like.

91. Because my father had to camp out quite a bit for the Marine Corps, we never went camping. I am a camping virgin and waiting for someone to help pop that cherry.

92. Intellectual, creative, humorous men are my weakness.

93. My child is my favorite person in the world.

94. I believe everyone is going to heaven eventually.

95. I can't tell if I'm weaker or stronger than I am.

96. I wish I could make everyone happy.

97. Though I get fed up with life, I'm completely in love with it.

98. If given the chance, I wouldn't change anything in my life thus far for fear of never having the people currently in my life and fear of losing all the wisdom I worked hard to gain.

99. I've always felt there were big plans for me and am just impatient with the crap I'm dealing with now.

100. I want to die on the 100th anniversary of my birth. Bonus points if cause of death is chicken pox which I've never had.

2...4...6...8...Who do we appreciate?

PUBLIC DOMAIN...PUBLIC DOMAIN...YEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH, PUBLIC DOMAIN!!!

Doug of Earthbound and the rest of the mates of {public domain} are in the running for a fucking awesome opportunity. Z100, a New York radio station holds a Radio Star contest for local bands. Voting is very important here!! Please head over to Z100 and vote for the guys. This is a fabulous chance for them to win a recording contract with EPIC!! You can hear a clip at Z100. These guys deserve this chance.

Want some more Doug? He brought us the beauties Please Recycle, Pieces of Aaliyah and Dolphin Safe Love.

Congratulations Doug and {public domain}!

A mother's perspective

A Mother’s Rant At Bipolar Disorder

By Bobbi

God-damned Bi-Polar! You took my 18-year-old son from me, and you took him from himself. I want you dead! I want you gone! The only way to kill you is with meds but, you bastard, you tricked him into thinking he doesn’t need them. You take over his mind and body, and what for? To no useful end. You've placed him in danger, and you make him think he’s trying to be independent. He can be independent and happy and safe without you, but you stop him. I hate you! I hate you!

You nearly got him hit by a car at age 15. You S.O.B., all you do is make him have demons. You’ve caused him to have car accidents and to be hospitalized three times. It’s your fault! You’re useless -- worse than useless. You’ve taken away his creativity, his brilliant mind, his athletic interest. I want you dead and wiped out, never to return. Leave him alone! I want my son back. I want him to have himself back. I want him to be happy and productive and enjoy life. You’ve taken that from him. He liked to stay in hotels and eat steak and play tennis and read and surf the internet and watch movies. You put him in Skid Row. It’s you, Bi-Polar, who’s in Skid Row, not him! You prevent him from sleeping. You prevent him from having a pleasant, safe life. I HATE you! Eat Zyprexa and Lithium and die, die, die!

You stole his teenage years from him. He never experienced group dating or couple dating or going to a prom. You took away his ability to belong anywhere. He’s desperately seeking a place to belong in spite of you. You caused him to sleep all day, be up all night, and miss his teen years in spite of all the damned brilliant experts at the sleep disorder clinics and all the shrinks! Lithium and Zyprexa would kill you and make you leave my son forever, but you won’t him let kill you. You’re devious and deceitful. You’ve caused him to take dangerous street drugs in his attempt to be rid of you. But you’ve fooled him again. You know that street drugs won’t get rid of you. It’s only Lithium & Zyprexa that will get rid of you and lift your lying veil from him.

Now he’s in a hospital again. Did the police put him there? No! You put him there -- again. He still can’t see that you’re causing him to act in ways that would draw police attention to him. Again he stopped eating and sleeping. He said he had a mental blackout and wound up in a suburb far from the shelter you put him in. Now his few things that he had with him, even his clothes, will be stolen by the others you put in the shelter. Poor kid! Now he owns nothing but disorientation and delusion. You’ve made him paranoid again. You’ve taken away his reasoning ability again. You’ve taken him again.

You lie to him. You make him think he can somehow live with you and without the meds. You’re nothing but lies and deceit. You trick him into thinking that people are after him, talking to him on the radio and bugging his car. You’re a lie, a rotten, damned, useless lie! And as strong as he is, you continue to keep him in your grasp. You won’t let him take his meds and get rid of you. Bi-Polar, I hate you!

I hate you!

Found on Will I Go Crazy?

The blind leading the blind

(Mobile) April 12 - It's your pride and joy, your newborn baby, but now one disabled Alabama couple is without their child after the State stepped in and took their infant away.

Pyanne and Tyrone Jordan of Talledega are both blind and gave birth to their first child on Tuesday. But two days later the baby was taken away from the parents by the Department of Human Resources and placed in state custody. Bruce Midwurf, WPMI

Does it scare anyone else that we've regressed back to Little House on the Prairie? This story upsets me in so many ways. We have two people who were stripped of their parental rights because of a disability. There has been no indication that these two people are incompetent in any way. Do they have a history of pedophilia? Have they abandoned or neglected children in the past? Are they physically violent? Other than their eyesight, what has this couple done to prove they are incapable ot taking care of their child?

Department of Human Resources may argue that because they lack their sight, they will be unable to see where an active toddler runs about perhaps picking up scissors. Ridiculous! If the powers that be think visual impairment deems someone unfit, what about those parents or would-be parents that are afflicted with other characteristics?

I have a friend who suffers from MS. She gets weaker every day. She has three children. Should some beaurocrat who doesn't know her remove her children because she's no longer fit to care for them as she did in the past?

What about a parent who is hearing impaired? Wouldn't a new born infant be in greater danger for a parent who couldn't hear her choking sound in the middle of the night? How about normal waking at two a.m. for feeding?

What if a healthy adult who has been parenting for five years with no problems suddenly strokes out and is partially paralyzed? Mobility limited. Speech slurred. Do we need to remove children from this home?

You know I was heading here...mental illness. I was mentally ill before Emmaline was born. And post partum depression strikes more women than blindness. Let's just take all the kids away from the crazies.

And what about parents who have no physical or mental limitations but just simply work entirely too much whether from necessity or free-will? I consider absent parenting more of a disability than any handicap.

Since we are taking children away from parents moments after birth, why doesn't the state and national governments pass law to sterilize all disabled adults. Let's just prevent this kind of weakness from breeding. Right?! We wouldn't have to worry about them destroying innocent lives. Hell, we would be saving the community. Instead of having to pay for a child moved through a system of foster homes, courts, and maybe even later the penal system (you know children in unstable family environments commit more crimes), let's just get rid of the weakest links before they are born. Let's just kill out the weak points in our society and create a pure society.....does any of this sound familiar?

Unfit parents are not defined by a physical impairment. There are abused and neglected children flying under the radar of Department of Human Resources across the nation because the parents seem perfect by society's superficial standards. Adults with seemingly polished looks smiling at the people in charge, donating to all the right charities, voting in every election, and going home and beating, raping, starving their children..

And how does this happen?

WARRENTON, N.C. -- A couple charged with killing their infant son has regained custody of their 2-year-old daughter even though they still face trial in the baby boy's death. WRAL.COM

This is no fat suit.

I am a fat woman. Do you know how much courage it takes for me to say that? The overwhelming fear that everything I've presented as myself suddenly means nothing because of my weight. My intelligence? Disappears. My humor? Gone. My creativity? Lost. My empathy? Poof! Everything that I own as me seems to matter not because of a three letter word.

I see you mocking me. Blaming me for my ugliness. I see any attraction to the person that is me covered beneath your embarassment for liking a fat person. I see you discounting all that is good about me because I'm fat. This is what I fear.

My weight sort of crept up on me since college really. In middle and high school, I thought I was grotesquely obese at 5'9" and about 170 pounds. I struggled with not being cookie-cutter beautiful like my school mates. I hate myself for not being my mother's petite 5'2" frame of ninety-nine pounds. I hate my Jolly Green Giantness.

My mother constantly reminded me that I wold be pretty if I would just lose weight. All that I was...was defined by those ten to fifteen pounds of childhood and adolscent excess. I might as well have been the weight of a beluga for what I saw in the mirror.

My pediatricians who were either small Asian women or obese 50 year old white men preached the concerns of my heaviness. The fact that I was as healthy as the majority of the Barbies at school didn't matter. I swam after school for leisure. I played softball for a season. I ran around with the best of them. No. I was a fat and slothful person.

Like I said, the weight sort of came gradually. Medications for my mental health added quite a bit. Having Emmaline made it more difficult to be a curvaceous yet trimmer woman. The inactivity from injuries and depression only gave permission for weight to cling to my body.

I never noticed how beautiful my body was until now when the extra weight is obvious. I couldn't appreciate my own physical presence until retrospect and hindsight. But that doesn't even matter. My weight now and my weight then are the same in my mind's eye. I saw myself as I do now...a fat, ugly person whose life's value is transparently thin and anorrhexic.

String and a chicken neck

I spent many of my younger years living on the Atlantic coast in South Carolina and North Carolina. Portion of our summer and other holidays were spent in Wisconsin in my grandparent's Sheboygan home, a few blocks from Lake Michigan. Fishing and the lot was as natural as breathing. Though I'm not a fabulous fisherwoman, I could survive on a camping trip (though I must admit, I'm a camping virgin). HOWEVER, I'm a fantastic crabber.

Once the weather was consistently beautiful, the crabbing and shrimping season would begin for us. We'd head to the grocery store to buy a couple of chickens. We would load the van with coolers filled with drinks and eats, our crabbing and shrimping supplies, blankets and pillows, and us. Depending on when my mother got the urge, we would head out to our favorite spots between ten o'clock at night and four in the morning.

The first thing before unloading anything or setting up camp: check all existing lines. Usually there would be two or three strings still tied to the docks from previous crabbers. Gently reaching out, you would pull on the line and check its tautness. A straight tight line meant you could have a crab already nibbling on the remains of the chickenbone. If you pulled it slightly and it pulled back, you had a crab. It was like Christmas morning if you had a crab on an old line. It felt like an omen that the time would be productive. And if the crabs were a good size? Damn, a blessing!

Crabbing for us was a day trip that started when everyone else in the world was sleeping. We did the majority of our crabbing at night when the creatures were active. A hot sun in the Carolinas was not friendly to humans or crustaceans. But if we had a good dark of crabbing, we would stay well into the late afternoon. It was nothing different to stay 12-16 hours on a crabbing outing. We would bring charcoal if we went to our site near the picnic areas and cook out with hamburgers and hotdogs. We always wore our swimsuits and flounder about in the shallower parts to swim with the little fishies. And our van had a bed in the back for when we were sacked.

I haven't been crabbing in years but I guarantee I could catch a crab with only a string and a chicken neck. I learned how to grab a crab without being pinched...only after several failed attempts. I learned how to identify both the female and male of the species and how to lull them to sleep by stroking the underside of them... yes, masturbating a crab. I learned also how to hold a shrimpnet, cast it, and pull it back in with goodies abound. I can throw a shrimpnet with such precision that Spiderman's throw of his web looks amateur in comparison.

I don't have a single bad memory of crabbing. Not a one. Not even the time when I misstepped and fell into the water. I scarred my leg hitting my shin on the jagged rocks. Despite the pain, I still had a fabulous day. Sometimes it would only be my mother, my siblings, and me. Other times we would go with a friend or two of my mother's and their children. There was so much freedom during our trips. Hardly any supervision but exorbitant amounts of running, screaming, swimming, and laughing. Handstands and cartwheels on the banks. Marco Polo in the water. Snacks under the trees. Moon high in the dark sky. Sunrise in the mornings. The abundance of crab, shrimp, flounder, and octopus for our efforts. Not a bad thought among all the years of crabbing and shrimping.

Before we'd head home, we would pull in our lines and cut the chicken from them and throw the bait into the water as our gift for all the little ones we had to release. I think we always left one or two for the next crabbers as our little blessing for them. Exhausted from the day, we'd load the van with our catch. My siblings and I would stare into the bins we had place them and tease them with a stick we nicked from our site. They would climb over each other snapping at our poking stick and each others' limbs. And all of us would sit on our ride home with smiles on our faces and the gurgling of crabs breaking any silence.

80's child?

Remember Fraggle Rock, Jem or MASK?

80's Cartoon Central has a list of other favorites.

The Dark Side of the Moon

I'm slipping into a major depression. It's been coming for weeks with intermittent periods of giddiness. I'm not going to fight anymore. I'm going to let it overwhelm me and destroy me. Beat me up. Rape me. Crucify me. Kill me. I don't want to come out of it anymore.

I'm sitting here with scissors wanting to slash myself. Punish myself for all the failures under my belt. Instead I sit here cutting pictures of my parents. Slowly and methodically with so much hate.

I wonder what my head would look like completely bald. Take the scissors and just snip everything I can wrap my fingers around. Then shave the rest.

I am worse than my mother.

I'm crazy. I worry that someone will tip off the people in charge who could take Emma away from me because of what I am. But would that be a bad thing for her? Before they do that I need to arrange for my sister to adopt her.

You all think that Em wouldn't be better off without me. I pose a question: If you saw a mother homeless on the street with her children in the middle of winter. Her children have to eat out of the bins behind fast food restaurants. Their shoes are worn. They haven't bathe. They have no medical insurance. They woman had friends and was a well-liked person but still can't provide for her kids. She loves them more than life itself. They love her and know she's tried. Are they better off than going to a family member who could care for them and love them as much? So, don't tell me that Em is better in my care.

I give her love. But love doesn't clothe her. Love doesn't fill the gas tank so I can get her to school...no, she can't ride the bus. Love doesn't keep the utilities paid for. Love doesn't feed her. Love does nothing but give you dreams that life will be better....and life isn't better. Not with me.

Brain Damage by Pink Floyd

The lunatic is on the grass.
The lunatic is on the grass.
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs.
Got to keep the loonies on the path.

The lunatic is in the hall.
The lunatics are in my hall.
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more.

And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.

The lunatic is in my head.
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane.

You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me.

And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear.
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
'll see you on the dark side of the moon.

I should have swallowed more pills fifteen years ago.