Light and Darkness

Superman Returns

Screened the latest Superman movie.

I had reservations about the actor since I'm a child of the Christopher Reeve days. He seemed to skinny...meaning not as broad shouldered...and not as tall. But watching it, I am satisfied. He was good.

Movie is definitely worth the ticket price. This isn't a review. It was also dedicated to Christopher and Dana Reeve, which is definitely fitting and beautiful.

Just one thing.  I will always hate the Lois Lane character. ALWAYS. I don't care who plays her (although I admit Teri Hatcher was my LEAST favorites...eck!), I will always think she is the stupidest person in creation. Ok. Yes, any person living in Superman's Earth is stupid. How hard is it to tell the difference between Clark Kent and Superman? I mean when mothers got their hairs cut, did any of us suddenly weep uncontrollably when we were children because we don't know who the funny woman with the weird hairdo walk in the door and suddenly start cooking dinner? GLASSES do not serve as a secret identity, stupid people. BUT come on....Lois Lane? Even dumber. She's a freaking investigative (let me interrupt this rant with a note that YES, I KNOW IT'S A COMIC STRIP. I'm not a total loon) reporter. She works with Clark every day. She fucked Superman. And yet....AND YET.....she doesn't know they are the same guy?!

DUMB WOMAN!

Eh!

Happy June 23, 2006!

That's all.

Nothing special. Just wishing you a Happy June 23, 2006.

Only one of those we'll get, you know.

Now, shoo shoo. Go celebrate.

The Popular Kids' Table

Do any of you like me? Seriously.

SOMEONE PAY ATTENTION TO ME! TELL ME THAT I EXIST!! DON'T LET ME DISAPPEAR!

I feel so fucking invisible. Always have.

Eye Buffet

New pics at an unframed 5x7

King Buffet

Bright at Photo Friday.

I love this photo because the sky appeared completely black in the photo which just emphasizes the neon, lights, and flags beckoning people to eat at the restaurant.

Emma and I had met Mrs. Devine here, a new Chinese restaurant in town. Good food with sushi on the menu also. If anyone wants to get me a cool birthday present or such....I want a neon sushi sign.

Confetti

Flying North

This reminds me of geese flying in formation during the fall  months. Also kind of neat that all the flags appeared red and yellow because of the lighting. In another photo taken at a  different angle, one can see the  different colors the flags actually are.

Flags

Buffet

Kittens

I had promised new pictures of Sophie's babes. They're twenty days old now. The grey one has a home when she is ready. Still looking for an adoptive parent for the other. Takers?

 

A Lifetime

The length of my relationship with The One wasn't very long. Friends for a couple of years and then more. But for what I had of him, it was already a lifetime. From the first moment of introductions, I knew I would have this person in my life for eons...at least I had hope so.

I had planned on a marriage....eventually. More children....if we had decided so. Travelling. Growing old. All those things girls dream of when they are wee ones. Perhaps I had jumped too quickly into the future...the fantasy. Maybe that's part of what went awry. I don't know. I can only suppose. But I admitted to myself that I deserved this wonderful person. He was mine. After all his past relationships, he was mine.

I still had jealousy....I'm a jealous person. First to admit that I am. I still had insecurities, fears, emotions stronger than I could reign in just yet. After thirty two years of misery and pain and heartache and the me I was used to, I was just beginning to change my view of the world and more importantly, me.

But shit happened. Outside my control and in....and they got in the way.

And when he stopped being in my life, I began dealing with depression, loss, shame, guilt, insecurity, fear, and all those grey or black emotions. And....anger.

I'm mad at him because I feel all those past relationships got more than what I got. I got short-changed. I was supposed to be his One. The ultimate. His goddess. His best friend. His lover. His end all. And from what has happened....I'm not. I want to ask him what about those other women made them worth just a little more time and effort especially since he said I meant more to him than they did.

I feel I've been lied to. I've been cheated on. I've been dismissed as trash. I feel unimportant. Stupid. Ugly. Foolish.

Did he lie to me? If he did, then I'm better off? Right? If he used me for his amusement at the time, then he was not kind and I don't deserve that. Right? And it makes me a fool to believe that any love I feel for him means anything in this world.

I am angry. I want to yell at him. I want to curse him and make him listen to how hurt I am....because I miss him. I fell in love with him more every moment of knowing him. I saw his mistakes. I disagreed. BUT I LOVED HIM because of all that.

I feared loving him but I prayed for him. When I met him, I knew he was The One; and I waited for my time. I thought it was finally mine when things started to happen between us. And I thanked God. Still out of fear, I reacted in the wrong way at times. I'm sorry. So very sorry for that. I also prayed that if it wasn't suppose to be...this thing between us....that God stop it.

Maybe my prayers were answered. He's not in my life now. Perhaps I deserve this, right.

Who should I be angry at, him or me? I feel abandoned but I did push him away. I feel he didn't try hard enough but I'm not easy to deal with every day. I feel misunderstood but did I understand him? I feel I was kept a secret but did I respect his sense of privacy?

I will never love another man in my life. I told him he was The One. I told him that I would never love another. I told him I wanted eternity after eternity with him. There is no other person I will share all of who I am with like I did with him. Every ugly thought and shameful secret...all were his. I dreamed with him too. Beautiful dreams I hadn't given myself permission to dream.

I bother him and am mad at myself for not just letting him be. I leave him alone and am mad that I have given up on him. What the fuck do I do? I am so angry with him. So goddamned angry. What do I do? What the fuck do I do?!

Instead of lifetimes with him, I will be stuck in lifetime after lifetime of missing him, loving him, and being angry.

Happy Father's Day

To all the dads and single moms out there, I wish you the greatest of days today. Happy Father's Day and thank you for lovingly doing one of the most important jobs out there....raising a child. It's not always rewarding at that exact moment and it's hard as hell, but it's a job that changes the world. Thank you!

Happy Father's Day!

Nachooooooooooooooo

Nacho Libre opened Friday (there was a sneak peek on Thursday evening but we're not going to count that in this post). It opened yesterday with three other films at our theater. Needless to say, we were busy as I was walking out after the end of my day at seven p.m. Lines around our building.

 

BUT....the fresh fish has to be these four gentlemen below. THANK YOU GOD! For the joys of my job which sometimes come few and far between....and on other days come dress as masked wrestlers with blankets as their capes!

 

....forgive me the quality. It was dark in the auditorium and I had forgotten my camera at home, so I had to really lighten the image in order to get an inkling of the outfits.

 

 

 

Some Sadness

Tomorrow is Father's Day and I'm feeling just a bit sad. Tears line my eyes by never fall down my cheeks, so one could say that I'm not depressing blue for no reason...just sad. The first real holiday without my pop..and it's a bit day that focuses on fathers so it's hard to ignore. When a loved one dies, you can't help but think of them every day. Natural course of grief, yes?

Since he died things have changed with my thinking on my parents. I have guilt for being so angry with either of them. I think if any of my friends were in the same situation, I would feel them justified in their emotions. But without that parent being in the world, there is no second chance.to make things right between you.

When Pop first died, I talked aloud to him all the time....and then I suddenly stopped. I have some reasons that are odd and make no sense, but nonetheless, I stopped. I miss him so very much, and growing up with him, I didn't think I would if he and I would have stopped being in each other's life. Same with my mother. The thought of his body rotting in the ground in the cemetery in Memphis unnerves me. I get images of him suddenly and for no reason while walking through the grocery store. And it makes me sad. I will NEVER get the chance to make things right between us. NEVER.

At my father's viewing, my brother said something that still resonates in my mind. I was crying, Shawn came up and put his arms around me and whispered in my ear, "Pa didn't like you but he loved you." Stings, huh? I can't blame Shawn or my pop for saying that. I'm guilty for saying the same things about my mom and him. You can probably find a few posts filled with vile, hateful sentences like that....more vile....more hateful.

I hate that that's how we ended things. I was trying to make it better between us but wasn't given the time...and now I regret that my teenage anger and past between us sits heavier in my mom's heart, and my dad's heart before he died.

And tomorrow? Another day to remind me that he's gone.

For my pop...Happy Father's Day. I miss and love you. Despite all of the angst between us, you did give me so much. Thank you.

Random Shit, also enitlted "Naomi, the Horndog...Whatever"

Yes, I used 'shit' in my post title. Now more strange visitors will be finding me on the web...if it wasn't bad enough that I get requent hits from those that would go to jail for pedophilia. *shiver* Uggghhhh!

I need a vacation and I don't anticipate one until the end of July when Betts and her son visit. But, boy-oh-boy! Do I need one!

Last month was a hard month at work. I don't give work details on here because all I need are those corporate types finding my opinions and then I'm out of a job. Honestly, I wouldn't want to work for a company that fires a person because of her venting. Principles, you know....but we all sell our souls a bit out of necessity. Don't tell me that you don't because I guarantee if you have a family that needs to be fed....you're working. And unless you have that dream job that you can do whatever the hell you want and still get paid......The devil is your boss. But I digress....last month. Let's just say that I cried a number of times in the last four weeks because of my job.

sigh.....

Probably getting tired of hearing about the crap in my life. You know...."I'm sad." yadda yadda yadda "I miss The One" yadda yadda yadda "I'm nothing." yadda yadda so more yadda.

Fuck, I'm tired of feeling it and saying it.

sigh....

Speaking of fuck, I need a good one. A mind blowing, guilt inducing, orgasm producing fuck with lots of tongue and fingers and cock and pussy (Oh goodness, here come the search engines). Yes...I am foul! Turn away if you're embarrassed. I'm not. Water, sex, and sushi - my rejuvinators. Give me all three in a day and I'd probably end up in a coma, smiling but still in a coma, in some nursing facility for the remainder of my days.

Incidentally, is anyone else getting slammed hard by spam bots in their trackbacks. It's just pissing me off that in the last four hours I've been fifty or so times by those damned things. I need to probably send a little note to Typepad.

God, I'm horney! I don't know about men but we, women have this issue when our jeans or other crotch rubbing material clothing are between our thighs and we are randy. Do you get that problem? Good gracious!

other things....thinking about other things....clouds......"Things that are fluffy"........um,film......"Things that are photography related"........scissors....."Things that film editors use".........licorice......."Things that are sweet".........la la la, snowmen......"Things that are white".........grunting......"THINGS ON A PORN SET!"

Not helping at all!

So, Cute Guy at work is going to be a dad.That is so great! He is a good catch. I don't think I have ever mentioned Cute Guy here on Vagabond. He's not only cute but one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. And he hugs me every time I see him. First time, I asked him for a hug. Now he comes up to me and hugs. He doesn't just hug...he embraces you. He pulls you close and holds you tight....at least, he does for me. And see, I could stay there all day just being hugged. I think he'd let me but I'm afraid of being inappropriate so I pull away. And honestly, I don't get many hugs that last as long as they do with Cute Guy. It makes me feel uncomfortable because I like it too much.

Before I found out he was married and before The One came into my life as The One, I looked at Cute Guy in a lustful way. I admit. Still do at times but he is married, and I won't do that. And did I mention that he is married to a Filipina. I think I've mentioned this before but for those who need several lessons on the same thing....don't ever piss off a Filipina. Never, evah, evah, evah, nevah, nevah....EV-VER piss off a Filipina. BUT I would never do anything.

Seriously, I'm glad he's going to be a dad. They've been planning this and he is going to make one fantastic father. He's a good soul. On the contrary, there is me. Devlish Naomi who is imaging his state of being in making a baby.

sigh....

I want The One so bad. I miss him. I need him. Craving him. DESPERATELY CRAVING HIM!

Eh, I'm going to bed. Too much pent up energy and raw emotions....and I can't even masturbate because my child is not quite asleep. Damn, I miss school! I could have my four screaming orgasms in the morning to start the day off right. Geez, Louise! Now I have to wait for sleep-over invites or just mute myself.

sigh

S.O.S:Save Our Shows

Hi,

Everyone expected House Republicans to give up efforts to kill NPR and PBS after a massive public outcry stopped them last year. But they've just voted to eliminate funding for NPR and PBS—unbelievably, starting with programs like "Sesame Street."

Public broadcasting would lose nearly a quarter of its federal funding this year. Even worse, all funding would be eliminated in two years--threatening one of the last remaining sources of watchdog journalism.

Sign the petition telling Congress to save NPR and PBS again this year:

http://civic.moveon.org/publicbroadcasting/

Last year, millions of us took action to save NPR and PBS, and Congress listened. We can do it again if enough of us sign the petition in time.

This would be the most severe cut in the history of public broadcasting.  The Boston Globe reports the cuts "could force the elimination of some popular PBS and NPR programs." NPR's president expects rural public radio stations may be forced to shut down.

The House and Senate are deciding if public broadcasting will survive, and they need to hear from viewers like you. Sign the petition at:

http://civic.moveon.org/publicbroadcasting/

Thanks!

P.S. Read the Boston Globe story on the threat to NPR and PBS at:

http://www.moveon.org/r?r=1864

Are you staring at my Glass Eye?

Yesterday was such a great day! I need more of those.

Emmaline and I spend the first half of my day at the water park just floating about in the endless river or swimming amonst the tubes. Fabulous just to lay on a tube or on myr back staring up into the sky, letting my skin soak up the much needed sun. Did you hear my soul say 'aaaaaahhhhhhhh?' It did. REFRESHINGLY LOUD, it did.

THEN...OMIGOD, THEN whilst Mrs. Devine let Em hang out at her house, I had a Naomi part of the day.

My friend, Angela (she is Em's art teacher from elementary school and her Troop leader. Her daughter is Emma's friend also) and I went to Horizen for a fabulous sushi dinner. Talked about travel, kids, creativity, sex, food, and everything else that makes a person.

After having nearly three collisions because my brain must have exploded from the day thus far, we made it to our real destination for the night.....a meeting of the Glass Eye Poets.

My friend Mike emcees the meeting every month, which meets every full moon. I think he may be the founder as well. He and his wife, Heather (I met Mike through Heather who worked at the medical center cafe with Stephanie...you know, I mentioned her before.) I have been invited countless times but never had the nerve. No pressure to do anything but go and listen but still felt such anxiety about it in the past. This month I decided to just jump right in and risk all the unrealistic views of myself and go. Taking Angela helped ease some nerves.

Glass Eye meets at Barbella's Art Gallery. Intellectuals and artists sit in chairs and on couches or the house steps in the back yard, under a canopy of branches from magnolias, pines, and other trees not yet identified by me. There is the community fridge in the gallery that chills beer, vodka, wine, and mixes. Didn't know about the community fridge last night...next time, we promised to be givers. I was surprised by the location. I thought it would be in a larger venue with less of a 'at home' feeling, but the gallery's backyard is the perfect backdrop.

Before I get started on the night, let me tell you about this writer I have met twice now. Robert resembles Christian Bale from American Psycho fame and Batman Begins. I met him first at the NaNoWriMo meeting here in Pensacola in November. He has this sexiness about him for obvious reasons but also because of the talent. I believe he mentioned that he taught creative writing classes at PJC. It was nice to see him there. I was hoping to hear something he had written.

Ok. Mike makes a list of who wants to perform for the night. You can pick your favorite number or make a request of for your spot....or you can just forgo your miked debut and just sit and listen and drink.

I have never read my stuff in front of an audience. There are friends that have heard a piece or two of mine, but usually Em is my only audience.  I was third last night. Yes, I had decided to read. Initiation by fire. I had nothing to lose but I was nervous as hell. Not from reading or being in front of others...I've been doing that since primary school. But, sharing my words? Revealing my thoughts? Letting what emotion that had spilled onto paper out into a crowd of strangers? I could have been naked in front of these people and felt easier than what I had planned to do.

Ever go to a play and get mesmerized by the actor who doesn't know what to do with their hands? Get embarrassed for him? Lost all concentration on the play because those dead hands have grabbed the attention of every single one of your braincells? I was that actor before going on. I didn't know what to do with myself; and if you know me, you know that I really don't get nervous about performances. I get jazzed and excited. I feel a little fluttering in my belly but it's anticipation.

I had some of that last night but mostly? Fear that my poetry would suck...and suck ass.

I read For you- My Stolen Moment, the pissed on poem, Ode to the Flag, and a poem about a visit I made to the beach one October.

Each piece was met with a rousing round of applause. Nothing unusual. We clapped for everyone. But evidently, my poems were a huge hit among everyone. Both Angela and Mike said I that my poetry was well received by the crowd. People were talking about my stuff with such "YES!" Others approached me and told me that they like my stuff. I'm still smiling and blushing.

It feels good! I want to clean my favorite corner of the house and sit and write. I want to venture out and take pictures of places and things. I want to open up my paints and do a watercolor or get my pencils and draw. I am high and it feels good.

We are going back every month. Why did I wait so long to attend this? Amazing how fear stops you. In everything that you want.....dream jobs, writing, travelling, friendships......love. We are so scared to risk exposing our desires and dreams and our true selves. Just a slight risk and the benefits are multitude. God, what a rush!

Oh...and Robert? He attends Glass Eye all the time and he complimented me as he was leaving and told me I need to write, write write.

He's Gone

originally, She's Gone by Daryl Hall

Everybody's high on consolation
Everybody's tryin' to tell me what is right for me, yeah
My daddy tried to bore me with a sermon
But it's plain to see that they can't comfort me

Sorry charlie for the imposition
I think I got it
I got the strength to carry on
I need a drink and a quick decision
Now it's up to me, ooh, what will be

He's gone, oh I
Oh I, I'd better learn how to face it
He's gone, oh I,
Oh I, I'd pay the devil to replace him
He's gone, oh I,
What went wrong?

Get up in the morning and look in the mirror
I'm worn as a toothbrush hangin' in the stand
My face ain't lookin' any younger
Now I can see
Love's taken its toll on me

He's gone, oh I,
Oh I, I'd better learn how to face it
He's gone oh I,
Oh I, I'd pay the devil to replace him
He's gone, oh I,
What went wrong?

Think I'll spend eternity in the city
Let the carbon and monoxide choke my thoughts away
The pretty bodies help dissolve the memories
They could never be what he was to me

He's gone, oh I,
Oh I, I'd better learn how to face it
He's gone, oh I,
Oh I, I'd pay the devil to replace him
He's gone, oh I,
What went wrong?
Whoa...

He's gone
I'd better learn how to face it
I can't believe that he's gone, oh I
He's gone
I'd better learn how to face it
I can't believe that he's gone, oh I

He's gone, he's gone, he's gone...

Bubble Blower?

I haven't done one of these in a while. Borrowed from Jez. And does any other person find Bubble Blower just a bit weird as this pose name? I know it probably refers to the shape the feet make but my first thought had to do with farting and the touching of asses as seen in the picture....and well, other things too.

Find your own pose!

The Psychology of Lists

I'm an odd person. Synonymously, I'm goofy, strange, quirky, weird, off....crazy. I can be quite organized, almost anally organized in my life. And there are those things that just fall apart because of my lack of time management and organizational skills. I think I've mentioned lists before as one of them.

I wish I were a list person. GOD I WISH I WERE A LIST PERSON! I try. I've made lists before. I've lists in my possession right at this moment but then they become meaningless little scraps of paper. And I don't know why.

They seem like a good idea and a handy tool for someone like me who loses items or has a lot on her plate. It's a smart habit to use for any number of outings or chores. But this is what happens to me. Typical list scenario:

1. Make grocery list.
2. Misplace grocery list in house while getting ready.
3. Find list and get in car.
4. Remind myself to bring list during the ten minute drive to grocery store.
5. Check for list while driving in car in route.
6. Look for grocery list while sitting at stop light because misplaced it again.
7. Put list in spot where it won't get lost and can be easily found when at grocery store.
8. Get out of car and get into store to find that list has been forgotten in car in obvious place.
9. Forget items because list is not in hand.

Hmpf! Yes, I've tried putting it in my bag and I don't know how I manage to lose it still. The only way a list remains found and gets used is if Emma actually writes and helps execute the list. She's a list person. Not me.

sigh...

I wonder about my aversion to lists. This deep-seated, quiet loathing to list making and its result. My thoughts?

1. The amount of time it takes to make a list could be spent doing the actual thing it helps accomplish.
2. I have a fear of commitment.

Ok. You can completely see the reasoning behind number one up there but number two? Far-fetched, right? No.

Lists inherently mean you're prioritizing tasks to accomplish. Example...when you make a grocery list, the first things that pop into your head are the items you are in most dire need of. If you had to pop a squat and had only two squares of toilet paper in the house, I bet that TP would be number one on your list above milk or beer. If you walked out of the store missing one item, it wouldn't be the number one item on your list.

Prioritizing means you are committed to those things that you listed above those things you randomly have running about in your head. What if you decide that you want to forgo the list of chores you need to accomplish because you're having a hell of a day and just want to go to the beach? It wasn't on the list. It was a random. But you can't go because you have this contract...this list looming over your head like a nagging spouse squeaking "Do me! Do me" over and over. You suddenly hate the list because you're committed to it You've made a promise. It seemed like a good idea at the time because you needed to grow up and set some goals down on paper but now? Oh no! That loud reminder that you haven't accomplished everything. You haven't kept up your end of the bargain. The list did. It was honest from the start but not you. These other superfluous, tawdry bits of fun called out to you, pleading for you to just put the list down for an hour or two. You could always go back to the list. It's not a permanent thing, you and that bit of sun. So, you do. You run off without the list, promising yourself just this once. JUST THIS ONCE and then you would be committed. Committed to the pact you made with yourself and the list. If you just have those few hours of fun then you could concentrate and be good. But it's never just a few hours....is it? Hell no! You feel guilty about the escape from that piece of paper that reminds you of your priorities. So you just give in and scrap the list all together. You're bad anyways...Why not just go all the way?

Rationally, I know lists aren't these evil little time bombs that explode if I don't accomplish all the numbered items in sequence. I KNOW I can go without numbering them...and I do. I KNOW I can do them in any random way. I have. I KNOW I can always take the unaccomplished tasks and put them on the next list. I KNOW all this. And yet...

Seriously, I don't know if they are reminders of past failures, of which I have millions.  My failure to commit the perfect Naomi to complete the tasks. Yeah, that perfect Naomi was committed. Twice. In Bryn Marr Mental Hospital. Being a perfectionist as a child has caused a lot of insecurities and issues in the present Naomi. Maybe that's why I don't have lists. I failed to accomplish some events on my life list and I haven't forgiven myself for failing to cross them through. There is a sense of pride and completion when you can mark an item off a list.You know that feeling. That euphoric sigh of relief from a job well done. You don't get that when you don't do it, do you? And I'm no easier on myself because I fail to accomplish chores on the most mundane of my lists either. I'm taking lists too seriously, aren't I? Perhaps.

Look. It's not that I don't like lists. I do. I wish I were better equipped at staying on tasks with the maintenance and execution of lists. THEY WOULD CHANGE MY LIFE! I know they would. My little OCD brain would get high from the hierarchy of organization that lists involve. List making I can do. What follows afterwards?

sigh...

Do I neglect my lists because I'm unreliable as a person? Is it because I'm unreliable in everything that I do that I avoid lists? Pattern shows that if I commit to something or someone, I fail to follow through. Why? Fear? Lack of motivation? Self-discipline? Dedication? Commitment?

Commitment comes up again and again, doesn't it? That fear of being held accountable to something or someone. Combine that with a fear of yourself, your abilities, and your inadequacies? It's not that someone has a fear of committing oneself to any one thing or person, for that matter. We all want that. It's the shaking fear that on our own part....we'll fail.

And no one wants a list with uncrossed items.

Saturday Re-cap

I am about to head to bed after a long, sunny day spent at a water park. Was nice to be able to just flow around and around the man-made lazy river. I am sunburned but so much more relaxed because of the immersion in water for hours today.

Went to work afterwards. Day was easy. Thank goodness. I have over thirty hours of overtime for this next paycheck. Spent two of my days off at work. Needing a break from that place or I will burn out very soon. It was a slow night also. Yay!

Thinking about Angus. All day, I thought of him....no different than any other day. I miss him so much. I only want to hear his voice and tell him I love him. Want to hear him laugh and sigh and tell me he loves me. I want to hear him cry and yawn. I want him so much. I keep hoping he'll come by this site to check on me and want to call me. To reconcile and make things right between us. Perhaps start over. ....Baby, please call me. Please let's try again. You know me and you still loved me. And all about you is wonderful to me. Please, baby. I love you so much. So very much.

sigh....

My life has to get better. It was so good. I had never been happier than I was when I was with him. I keep hoping that we'll get back together. sigh....What can I do to insure we would get a chance to try and work things out?

Stillborn

Weeks and weeks ago, Sophie ran away (once again) and was gone for days. When she finally came home, I found her cornered by three male cats. And I knew then that she was pregnant. She was.

She ran away again, and I was worried about whether or not she would come home. Trying to find her nesting place if she would give birth would be difficult, at best. Truely worried, but three days later she came home. She began her nesting phase of labor, which includes crying for us to her follow. I made her a place in my closet like her last pregnancy. On the 31st, I woke and checked on her (we had spent hours during the night near her) and found nothing. Then off to work, I went.

Em called me within hours saying that the first kitten was born. Hours later the second one was born. When I got home, no other kittens had been born. And we could have sworn that there were others still in Sophie's womb, but labor had stopped and Soph was purring contently. I searched online and it said labor could be started and stopped, and kittens may take 24 hours to be born. By last night, still no kittens. Still uneasy, I convinced myself that all had finished because Sophie was in no distress and there was no discharge or such.

I woke early, early this morning to the babies crying and Sophie munching (the munching sound during labor can be unpleasant because you know what they are doing). Rushing to Sophie's box, I found her cleaning a third kitten that was not moving; and when mama moved, I saw such a sad sight. The third kitten's neck was twisted and elongated. The babe was slightly bigger than its littermates. The poor stillborn kitten must have gotten stuck in the birth canal because of its position or size.

Sophie wouldn't let me remove the dear until she was done cleaning it...she is such a good mommy. Always have been.

I have some guilt for not taking Sophie to the vet when my gut told me there was another kitten. And most of the motivation for not taking her is the lack of funds. If I took her it would involve ultrasounds and a cesarean, and I don't have that.

Looking at the babe's body and feeling the warmth of the womb leave it, I felt (and still feel) such sadness. I've thought of so many things I could say to someone else  in my situation to convince them it wasn't their fault. Sophie could have had the babies outside, and I would never had known about the babe. The kitten could have died in utero and taking Sophie to the vet would only prove that. God's will. But nothing expunges the guilt for not being more responsible or more loving.

I couldn't touch its poor body at first when I was able to remove it from the bedding. I thought of my dad when I ran my fingers over its paws and bloated belly. Thought about when his death first occurred and how the heat of his lifeforce slowly waned. The cold seeped through the small towel in my hand into my palm. Did my pop's spirit jolt away from his physical form? Does death happen slowly and finally finishes when the cold overcomes despite the body's first automatic failures?

I pray there is a heaven. I don't want anyone to just stop existing. I don't like the idea of putting so much effort into a life to suddenly stop existing because the body ceases to function. Because then I can feel a little better about this stillborn child. Naive thoughts of this kitten having a life in 'heaven' maybe where my pop lives now. I hope there is a heaven.

Because today, I feel like a killer.

Sad Reality

I am ugly, fat, unhealthy, demanding, emotional, crazy, needy, unorganized, loud, pushy, un-original, angry, lazy, depressing, childish, and quite aware of my future persistant state of solitude.

I am so unworthy of love, and it depresses me that I will never be "the one" for any man. I am and always have been a secret, a compromise, a subsitute, a momentary lapse of judgement, a mistake, an avoidance, a hindrance, a drain and a temporary thing.

And I never seem to mind because at least for a moment, however long it lasts, at least someone thinks they love me.

Waiting for other people in my life to realize what others already have.

I apologize now for putting you in a spot that you too will feel guilty for having and wanting and finally leaving me...