My Religion

Let me start by saying that I don't care what you choose to worship. I don't care what religious doctrines you follow. Whether one of the various incarnations of Christianity or Judaism, Muslim, Buddist, Wiccan, atheist, or worshipping cats in heat when the moon is in Aquarius or whatever, I simply don't care.

That being said....

Too many people profess themselves a good *insert appropriate religious preference here* simply because they go to religious services religiously (for lack of a better word). Sitting your fat ass in a religious establishment does not in any way make you a good person. Are you listening to what is being said during these little sit downs? The guy (or girl) up there may actually have something important to say. They aren't just up there for your entertainment. There are lessons to be learned.

Too many people sit in church only to get up and spew hate and venom the moment they walk out after mass. Or the sermon/homily leaks out of their ears and they don't understand what it truly means to live a good life. Not one of us is without sin, if you believe in the Christian doctrines. One of us is no better than another of us.

Telling me that someone is a good Christian truly isn't going to endear that person to me. I've met way too many Christians that are judgemental, mean, hypocritical, and just plain hateful.

You have no right to judge another person for how they choose to live their lives. I know too many Christians that raise their children to hate. Hate people of other religions. Hate people of other races. Hate homosexuals. Hate people with purple hair or piercings. Hate people with blue eyes. Hate Hate Hate. Apparently it's the Christian thing to do.

So go ahead and surround yourself with crosses. Go ahead and quote from whatever religious books you find important. Speak in tongues if you like. It doesn't mean that you'll be in the express lane to Heaven. If you wear a cross, sit in church, and then spew hatred and judgement every day of your life...you'll have God to answer to. Me....I just prefer not to hear it.

You don't know Jack

You may think you know a person, but you have no idea what really goes on behind closed doors or in their minds. You may think you know a person's situation, but you have no clue. So, think about that before you judge. In fact, how about don't judge at all...because YOU probably have things going on that others don't understand.



Now, I say all of this because my husband, children, and I are moving in with my mother. Since my father died my mother has had her own issues dealing with grief. She's asked us both individually and together several times over the past several months. Hubby and I have discussed it ad nauseum and decided that despite having some reservations (as most people would) that it is the right thing to do at this time for our family. At almost 40 years old with a family of my own, I know how people will judge us for this move. I know how people will look upon us...as if we are mooching off of my mother. People will think that we are financially unable to take care of our family. I know exactly what people will think and what they will say behind our backs. Because, I'd be thinking the same thing.



Problem is....people don't know our situation. Hubby and I make nearly 6 figures a year and have no trouble paying our bills. And, we both agree that we will take over paying all utility bills while living with my mother. Next, people don't realize how much time I have been having to spend at my mother's house for this reason or that reason...cleaning, clearing, purging, moving furniture, carrying things to goodwill, and so on. It's been difficult to take care of things with my mother and still take care of my responsibilities with my children and husband at our house. My husband doesn't work a 9 to 5 job meaning that most of the responsibility for our children and our house fall on my shoulders. My mother can't take care of that big house by herself and she is not ready to sell it yet.



So....we move in with her over the next 2 weeks and put our house up for sale. We bank the money (if any) we get from the sale of the house. We'll continue to save while we live there. Then when we're all ready, we plan on purchasing a home large enough for all of us. She may then move in with us. Or, perhaps she'll sell her house and buy something small for her. But, we'll be prepared in the event that she needs to live with us.



I made the decision to step up and start taking care of my parents about a week or two before my father died. I had been bringing them dinner every day and running errands for them, etc. After my dad died, I spent so much time with my mother, I realized just how difficult it is for my mother to get around. She is in excrutiating pain just standing. She has a hard time going up and down stairs. Standing for long periods of time to cook is out of the question. Standing to wash a sink full of dishes is out of the question. Carrying laundry up and down the stairs is increasingly difficult for her. So....



we move in.



So, don't judge people. You don't know why they make the decisions they do.

Giving the finger

Fuck you depression. Just fuck you.

Crazy Train

Where does depression hurt? Right fucking here, damn it!

Hi! My name is Mimi LaRue and I "suffer" from depression. I have been for more than 20 years. In my teens and early 20's this presented itself with many thoughts of suicide. Thankfully I didn't actually act on those thoughts. In my early to mid 20's depression manifested itself in...let's just call it "risky behavior." In my late 20's I broke up with the love of my life and married someone equally as fucked up as myself. When I had my son I saw that my life wasn't just about me anymore and found it much easier to fight through the rough times. I had something to focus on to keep my mind busy. When I lost my daughter, I chose to use that loss to make positive changes in my life and not allow it to bring me down further. My outlook changed. During the next few years, I divorced my baby daddy, moved back to my hometown (which really is a step backwards for me since I really don't like living here), reconnected with the love of my life, got married to him, bought a house, and had a little girl. All's well, right?

Despite everything being so wonderful in my life, depression can still weigh me down. Unlike when I was a teenager, I understand that it's not that I'm feeling worthless or unloved. It's my fucking brain chemistry. Oh...over the past 20 years or so, I've tried antidepressants and anti anxiety meds. The anti anxiety meds usually rock. But the antidepressants really don't help at all. For me they make me not give a fuck about anything. No joy, no sadness, nothing. I could win a bazillion dollars and be like "meh." That's not what I want out of life. And, I've never understood why one of the possible side effects of antidepressants is "thoughts of suicide." Fuck...that's why I was on this shit to begin with...so how exactly is it helping? Anyway, so I have chosen not to take the medicinal route to deal with my depression.

On top of this, I am manic. This means that literally I could be coming out of my skin happy and over the top full of joy and bursting at the seems and bouncing around (you get the picture) for a period of time...could be a few minutes, could be a few hours...typically it's been a few weeks or even months, then I "hit bottom." I crash. As overjoyed as I was is as miserable and unable to function as I become. It's frustrating for those around me. Hell, it's frustrating for me.

I am in one of those manic down periods right now. I've been trying hard to get up and exercise for the past week. Instead, I get up before the alarm goes off and reset the alarm for a later time...as late as I can get by with and still make it to work on time. In the evening when I get home, I'm so exhausted that I really have a difficult time dealing with either of my kids. I just want to be left alone. I have to push myself to make sure everyone is fed, bathed, homework is completed and checked, studying is completed, etc. All I want to do when I get home is crawl in bed. Last night I fell asleep laying across the bed all wonky like and woke up many hours later. I was only able to do this because my husband was home.

Just getting out out bed is a humongous chore. Caring about anything...well, it's difficult. If someone gets angry with me or snaps at me, honestly I'm less likely to battle it out with them simply because it's just not worth it to me right now. I'd just rather move away from that person and be by myself...because I just don't care and in the grand scheme of things it doesn't really matter. It's not that I don't WANT to do things, I just don't have it in me to do them. If I didn't have a job and kids I would literally stay in bed for days at a time. Thankfully I have the presence of mind to come to work and take care of my kids. I still retain the logical part of myself that understands that my brain chemistry is fucked up and I will eventually "feel" better. I know that if I can FORCE myself to exercise, I will very likely start feeling better. It really is true that exercise is good for the mind as well as the body.

For the moment, however, I really just don't give a fuck about much of anything.

The Cat's in the Cradle

The time of the bitter divorce and pitting kids against the other parent is past. The time of tearing each other apart because you can't stand to be married...or in the same room together is past. If parents make the decision to divorce, the children should not have to suffer more simply because one or the other other or both parents are too selfish and childish to suck it up and get along with the other parent FOR THE CHILD'S SAKE.

It is in the child's best interest that parents not only get along, but that they also communicate. In my own situation, my child's father and I had a wonderful co-parenting relationship for a while. We were able to call each other anytime and give information pertaining to our child. We were able to make decisions together concerning our child. We put our child's needs first and any issues we had with each other stayed on the back burner. Our child was so much better for it. We provided a united front.

Well, that was in the beginning. What has transpired since that time has been painful and heartwrenching for my son. My son's father remarried. No big deal, right. I had met at least one of his previous girlfriends and didn't think that there would be any major changes in our co-parenting relationship when he remarried. Heck, I was remarried and we still managed to maintain an open line of communication when it came to our son.

This is no longer the case.

This man's entire demeanor and personality changed when he met this woman. He is completely unrecognizable now. He has become rude, mean, callous, and puts his and his wife's needs ahead of his child's best interests. I used to call to tell him of conversations I had with my son's teachers or doctors. But, since this woman entered his life, I have been told not to call. I have always made sure that my child had a gift for his father for holidays, birthdays, Father's Day, etc. I was told "we'll take care of getting each other gifts from him from now on." This statement I have ignored. I am my child's mother and I will make sure that he has a gift for his father. When my ex and his wife make plans to take our son out of town, I ask questions that EVERY parent has a right to know BEFORE his or her child is taken out of town. Where will he be staying? May I get the telephone numbers and addresses of where he will be staying? How long will he be staying? Will he be at the same place for the entire vacation? What is the airline information? Etc. I don't think it's too intrusive to ask for this information. This is my child and I should know how to reach him and where he is. When my husband and I take my son out of town, I provide all of this information to his father prior to leaving and without having to be asked. I feel it is common courtesy. However, this actually became a problem before one of their vacations to California. I asked repeatedly for weeks for the information via telephone, in person, voicemail, and email. The day before they were to leave on their trip, a mere hours before my ex was supposed to pick my son up from me I finally called him and told him that if I didn't have the information I requested, our son would not be going on the trip.

My ex made it abundantly clear that I was not to communicate with him in anyway, shape, or form anymore.

My son has been telling me more and more frequently that he does not like staying at his dad's house and that he really doesn't want to go. He says he enjoys spending time with his dad, but that he would rather just see him for a few hours and then come back home (my house). My son (without prompting from me) tells me that his dad doesn't listen to a thing he says. He tells me that when he asks about going to Cub Scout meetings, his dad will tell him that they will be going to visit relatives and then when the time comes, they don't go anywhere.

I have always encouraged my son to have a good relationship with his father, even after his father and I could no longer communicate with each other. When he brings his concerns to me, I've told him that he needs to discuss it with his father. What else can I do? I've been told by lawyers that as long as my son isn't being abused, then what goes on when he is with his father is "not my business." That seems so wrong to me. I am his parent. It is my business to know what goes on when my son is with his father just as much as it's his father's business to know what goes on when my son is with me. But, the few times I have tried to discuss anything with my son's father, I was dismissed. My concerns fall on deaf ears.

All that I can hope for now is that as my son gets older he will feel more comfortable expressing his concerns to his father. The problem is that his father is laying down such dysfunctional groundwork that when my son does come out of his shell, it's going to be to tell his dad that he wants nothing to do with him. He's damaging his relationship with his son for the sake of his wife. One day my son's father is going to want to talk to his son. He's going to want to offer advice. He's going to want to be there. But, the possibility exists that it will be too late then.

Happy Happy Birthday...

Today would have been my dad's 68th birthday. He's been gone for a little over 5 months.

My dad was a great man. Of course he had his faults. Absolutely wasn't perfect. Who is? But he was a perfect dad to me. He gave of himself to anyone that needed him. This man worked 3 jobs to take care of our family. He raised money for various causes. He gave money to family and friends that needed it. In fact, in my opinion my dad was taken advantage of by the very family and friends that he helped. But he was too good a person to say anything.


He lent quite a bit of money to at least 2 brothers that I am aware of. Apparently they don't get that borrowing means paying back at some point. These family members never even attempted to pay him back. His whole family have always looked upon us as not needing the money...like we were rich. Where the fuck were they when he worked 3 jobs to pay bills? Where the fuck were they when our family had to cut back on our budget? You know, my parents borrowed money and PAID IT BACK!!!! My dad gave cars (used, but hey they were free to the people he gave them to), and bought items for some members to sell in their business. Did my dad expect to be repaid? No. He was doing all of it out of the kindness of his heart...even when it caused struggles at home...financially and otherwise.


Today, on my dad's birthday I've discovered how little his family regards my dad and once again discovered that my mother and I will never be considered a part of their family. First, the person that has power of attorney over my uncle made sure that HIS children receive things from my uncle...including a house (A HOUSE THAT I FUCKING LIVED IN AND HAD AN EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT TO) and a vehicle. Now sure...my cousin is assuming a note and at some point $90,000 will be exchanged...$45k will pay off the note. That means that there will be another $45k. Who the hell will be getting that? I guaranfuckingtee that not a penny will come my way. They have divided up all of my uncles possessions and what little money he has without considering that my dad's part should come to my mother and me...or if they hate my mother so much....just me as I am a blood member of this family. Oh...and guess what! They are dividing my uncle's belongings up and he's not even dead. He's in a home. Not one of them visits. Seriously, he'd be better off if one of them just shot him in the head and got it over with.

Same people told my mom that they wanted the shotgun my dad had only days after he died...and they hadn't so much as spoken to my mother or me to express condolences.


Am I angry? Yes. I'm angry and extraordinarily hurt that my FAMILY doesn't consider me part of their family and are so eager to assume my dad's portion of ANYTHING. My dad did more for my uncle that any of these other people did.


I am embarrassed. I am hurt. And I am pissed.


They have taken antique picture frames that belonged to my grandparents and SOLD THEM! They are taking china cabinets and other nice things that mean nothing to them. They are just going to sell them or give them to their kids that won't appreciate them and will destroy them.


I keep typing like I'm actually going to be able to express what I'm feeling and it just isn't going to be sufficiently expressed.


Dad, I love you. I miss you. I know that you are pissed right now about what they are doing...both to your little brother and to your wife and daughter. I had hoped that your family could honor your memory by coming together to take care of family. But they are still only taking care of themselves. This is not at all what your life was about.

2009 I Hate to See You Leave, But I Love to Watch You Go

2009 has not been the kindest year. 2009 had promise there for a while. The first half of the year brought with it bitter realizations and then soaringly high hopes stregnthened with a resolve of steel. I discovered acting was not only an amazing outlet, but also that I truly enjoyed it and looked forward to each and every class. I've overcome quite a few fears this year.


The second half of the year was vastly different. We experienced intense loss and grief when my father died. I keep being drawn into crazyville because some are having extreme difficulty accepting the loss. My husband was extremely ill and spent several days in the hospital for a still undiagnosed problem. My daughter has been ill since for nearly 3 months and the doctors have not yet been able to determine the cause.


2009 has been the kind of year that you definitely will not look back and remember it fondly.

So, 2009, you bitch. You took from us. You knocked us down over and over again without giving us a chance to even catch our breath. I will not miss you. I hope you die a thousand painful deaths.

Shuffle off the buffalo and buffle off the shuffle-o

My dad died September 14, 2009. To say that he had been in bad health would be an understatement. Just in the past couple of years he had gotten so bad that he couldn't walk without a great deal of assistance, and even then he fell down a lot. Congestive heart failure, really bad diabetes, high blood pressure, about 59% kidney function, hardening of the arteries, and a host of other maladies. He had been in a great deal of pain over the past few weeks. His hip and his legs gave him excruciating pain.


Still, with all of his pain and all of his illnesses, my dad didn't want anyone to worry about him. He wanted to help others. He would give away the shirt off his back to help someone in need. He worried about his younger brother who has been in the hospital now for about 6 weeks. None of his other brothers gave a damn about the youngest. They would let him rot in the hospital and not so much as feel an ounce of guilt.


My dad worked hard all of his life. When I was a child, my dad worked 3 jobs to make sure that our family was taken care of and to make sure that I had opportunities available to me that I may not have had otherwise. Both of my parents instilled in me a strong work ethic. I learned that it was important to work to take care of your family. I learned the importance of being there for family regardless of past hurts or disagreements. Family should always be there for one another.


My dad used to drive me to preschool and kindergarten with the windows down. We'd sing Old Man River and he'd sing loud and boisterously and people in the other cars would stare at us. I'd get so embarrassed that I'd slide down in my seat so no one could see me, but I'd be giggling all the while. "TOTE THAT BARGE! LIFT THAT BALE! IF YOU DRINK A LITTLE SCOTCH YOU'RE GONNA LAND IN JAIIIIILLLLLL!"

Then when he pulled up in front of my school I'd open the door to get out and he'd say "Shuffle off the buffalo and buffle off the shuffle-o." Every time. I have no idea what it meant or why he started saying it. But I couldn't start my day at school without it back then.


We sang Blue Eyes Cryin in the Rain. It was our song. At my wedding, instead of dancing to 'Daddy's Little Girl" or whatever most brides dance with their fathers to, my dad and I danced to Blue Eyes Cryin in the Rain. Now, I doubt I will ever be able to hear that song without crying myself. I wish I had been strong enough to sing that at his funeral. I think he would have liked that.


Each time I cry when I think of how much I miss my dad, I can hear him telling me "Don't worry about me. I'm okay." That's the way he was. Even as sick as he was and even in all the pain he was in he would tell others not to worry about him and that he was okay. That man could be in the hospital for open heart surgery and would tell those that visited him not to worry.


My dad loved to travel. He especially loved cruises. He and my mom would go on at least one cruise a year. I remember trips with him when I was a kid. A trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee when I was really young almost ended with the two of us falling off a mountain. We were sliding down on a bobsled and we flipped off the track into the snow close to the edge of the side of the mountain. As alarmed as he was, he just laughed so I wouldn't be upset. He took me swimming on one of our vacations and I fell off the top of the ladder at the swimming pool. He saw that I wasn't hurt so he laughed so that I wouldn't get upset and cry from being so scared.


I know my dad was wild in his younger days. I love to hear those stories. But, more than anything, I remember my dad as being strong and caring. He may not have always expressed his love, but I always knew that he did love me.


Another important lesson I learned from my dad was that you make your own good time. Don't sit around waiting for someone else to show you a good time. So, those of you that know how goofy I am and why I find humor in even the most morbid of times, it was my father's lesson. I make my own good time. I use humor in just about everything I do. Perhaps others don't always appreciate my humor, but that isn't my problem...I'm having a good time.


I never wanted to disappoint my parents. Sadly, I'm sure I disappointed them quite a bit. But, my dad told me "don't worry about what we think. You do what will make you happy and what you think is best for you." I tried this one, but I still feel guilty about disappointing them. I stayed in the New Orleans area because I wanted to make sure my parents were okay. I knew it would be difficult for them if their only child moved far away. I stay here now because I want my kids to know my parents.


My dad was a wonderful grandfather. He loved my kids more than words can describe. My dad always looked forward to seeing my son and daughter. He had such a close and special relationship with my son. If he went a week without seeing my son, I'd get a phone call telling me how much he was missing him. He positively glowed when he was around my kids. He was truly a proud grandfather.

My dad loved music. He collected records for years. When he got a computer and found out you could download music...he loaded his computer up with songs. He'd find obscure songs that most people have never heard of.

My dad loved NASCAR. It used to drive me crazy when I was a kid. I never understood what was so interesting about watching a bunch of people drive around in a circle really fast for hours. I've grown to like it more now. It broke his heart when Dale Earnhardt died.

When my dad would hear of someone in need, he would work to try and help that person and their family out. He wouldn't always know exactly how to go about doing that, but he would try his best. He would talk to people and try to get donations or work on setting up benefits.


My dad was so good hearted and compassionate. People, including some of his own family members, would take advantage of his kind heart. He would give away every penny he had. My mother finally had to put her foot down because he was giving money to people that weren't doing anything to help themselves. My dad finally realized that giving money to people that refused to work wasn't helping those people at all. It pained him to tell them no, but he knew that it was better for them.


I love my dad and I will always miss him. I pray that I will be able to live my life in ways that honor him and would make him proud. I pray that I will be able to keep his memory alive in my children.



"Someday when we meet up yonder, we'll stroll hand in hand again, in a land that knows no sorrow. Blue eyes cryin in the rain."

I want you to want me

It's reunion time again. I've spent much of the past decade or so trying to avoid people. Now that I'm getting back into the world, I'm realizing why I left in the first place. Let me try to explain.

I was an extremely shy child. I would even go so far as to say that I should have had some sort of professional help or some sort of intervention when I was younger. I was uncomfortable talking to my parents. I was never truly comfortable around the neighborhood kids. It didn't help that the neighborhood kids thought that I was stuck up because I was so...quiet and removed for lack of better words. I was afraid they wouldn't like me so I tried to stay by myself. But because I stayed by myself instead of playing with them, it made them not like me. Oh...we developed friendships eventually. But I always sensed that I would never be part of their inner circle. There are several times that I remember being left out or picked last. Just kids being kids. But it certainly didn't help my already fragile self esteem.

Growing up, I continued to spend a good deal of time by myself. In the summers, I stayed up late (I usually didn't get to sleep until the sun came up). I would usually be going to bed when the neighborhood kids were getting up. I'd be waking up when they were going inside for dinner. I'm not saying it was the best plan, but it's just what it was. I watched movies. I listened to music. I created my own little world where I wouldn't have to deal with the hurt and insecurity that I felt. If I didn't put myself out there, there was no way I could be hurt. Now, I was quite young so I'm sure that's not what I was thinking. It's only been recently that I've realized that that was basically what it boiled down to.

I had few friends. Not because I couldn't get friends, but because I chose to only spend time with a few people. I spent a great deal of time and effort even as a child trying really hard to keep those friends. I always felt that I wasn't anything special enough to keep a friend. I have always made it clear that I would be there for them if they needed me and I always was. I don't remember one instance in which any of them was there for me when I was having a hard time.

Clearly, in my mind, they considered me only a back up fair weather friend. Someone to have fun with when no one else was available.

Fast forward to when I began dating. I spent a great deal of time and effort trying hard to be what that person needed and wanted. I abandoned all pride and any shred of self worth that I had simply to make him happy. This didn't end with him. I did this through every relationship I had for many years. What guy remains interested in a girl that literally lives her life only to make him happy? It sounds nice in the beginning to them, but in reality it actually sucks. People need challenges and common interests and mutual respect among many other things to make any relationship work.

This wasn't exclusive to my dating relationships. I lacked friends and I needed friends. I would find ways to insinuate myself into situations in which certain people would be in just so that I would have the opportunity to get to know people. I didn't know HOW to go about making friends so I schemed and planned and managed to get some friends. Again, I never felt truly comfortable in the group. I tried so hard. I wanted them to need me as much as I needed them. I'm sure that all my efforts simply pushed people away. I didn't realize that then.

I was accused of being manipulative by several people...guys I dated, people I was trying to be friends with, others. I didn't understand that. I was only trying to be what they wanted me to be so that they wouldn't leave. I felt that I had put myself out there and did everything I could for people and I expected them to always be there for me. But, time and again I found myself feeling alone and unhappy. I felt like an outsider no matter who I spent time with. I have never had a real best friend...someone that will put up with your tear filled midnight calls when you are fighting with your boyfriend, someone that will come to your house and coach you through your anxieties when you are starting a new job, someone that can just as easily and happily go out drinking and partying with you one night to being your personal savior the next night, someone that will defend you to others when someone tells lies about you, someone that can make you feel comfortable just being you.

I've never had someone, especially as an adult, that I thought would love to grab a pizza and spend the night at my house watching movies and just being silly. I'm jealous of women that have friendships like that. As an adult it's down right impossible to develop friendships. I've joined the ladies group at my son's school and have gone to the socials and volunteered to work with them, but I still feel like an outsider.

Don't get me wrong. I don't feel like a victim. I don't view myself as a victim. I certainly don't ask for sympathy or any silly bullshit like that. The reason I chose to stop pursuing friendships several years ago is because I have felt betrayed all too often by people that claimed to be my friends. I have never felt truly comfortable with people. While I don't feel like a victim, I also don't view myself as a manipulator. Looking back, I can understand how people can believe that of me. However, all I've ever wanted was to have people that I could talk to, feel comfortable with whether we were going to dinner and a movie, going to a concert, hanging out in from of the tv, having a few drinks somewhere, or if any of us is having a difficult time.

I started to think that maybe I just held people up to some impossible to attain standard and was always let down. But, I don't think so. Friends are people that can make you feel loved without ever needing to say "I love you." Friends are people that allow you to be yourself and love you for it. Friends will offer advice and seek advice from you. Friends will not ignore you (which is what I get a lot of even now...and, even as an adult, it's hurtful). Friends will be your sounding board and expect you to be theirs.

In my husband I have found someone who accepts me as I am, but expects me to continually grow as I accept him and expect him to grow. In him I have found someone who challenges me every day as I challenge him. He loves me for me.

Are there any others out there that can accept me as I am? I doubt anyone will call me manipulative these days because I no longer work so hard to put myself in their path. Either you want to get to know me or you don't. Either you like me or you don't. As badly as I'd like to have close friends to spend time with and share stories with, I refuse to change who I am for others anymore. Take me as I am or not at all.

Stand up, Step up, or Shut up!

I get it. Politics suck. Politicians suck. I've never seen a politician that I trust. You are stupid if you believe one word of what comes out of their mouths. Not one of them can be trusted. Oh, they may start out with good intentions, but once they get in the game there isn't one of them that stays in it for honest motives. Not one.

Now, you don't like the way the country is being run. Do something about it. You don't like that we seem to be heading towards government run health care system, write your congressmen. You don't like H.R. 45: Blair Holt's Firearm Licensing and Record of Sale Act of 2009, write your congressmen. If you think that H.R. 757: To redesignate the Federal building and United States Courthouse located at 200 East Wall Street in Midland, Texas as the "George H. W. and George W. Bush United States Courthouse and George Mahon Federal Building" is a huge fucking waste of taxpayer funds and time, WRITE TO YOUR CONGRESSMEN. If you do not agree with something our government is doing, write to them...start a movement...get a petition going.

What I would like for you to do, however, is stop fucking bitching to me about it. On some points I may agree with you and others I do not. Either way, I'm not the person to complain to. When I get pissed about the asshats in charge doing something else that I don't approve of, I fire off a heated letter....to my elected officials. I make my voice heard. Now, sure, sometimes I am the minority and their vote goes the other way, but at least I have let them know how I feel. And, let me just say that when writing to your elected officials, back up your arguments with facts, not hearsay, not media spun bullshit, not threats. Give logical, well thought out reasoning. Encourage others to do the same and MAYBE WE CAN GET THOSE FUCKERS TO ACTUALLY REPRESENT US FOR A CHANGE INSTEAD OF JUST SAYING THEY DO.

My point in this whole thing is LEAVE ME THE FUCK OUT OF IT. I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR OPINION. All you succeed in doing is irritating me and weighing the pros and cons of a prison sentence for stomping you into the ground.

Thank you and God Bless America!

How Deep Is Your Love

The past few weeks I've been fairly busy. I work all day and then I was going to classes 2-3 nights per week. Then, Little Red, my 8 year old, went to California for 11 days with his dad. So, LR and I haven't spent a lot of time together lately and it was bugging both of us. He got back from his trip 2 days ago. Last night after we all went to bed, I got up and went to lay in his bed for a bit. He asked me "Why aren't you sleeping with Pere?" I told him that I just wanted to come lay down with him for a little while because I had missed him so much. He said "You really do love me!"

Dramatic much?

Me: Of course I love you

LR: Would you love me if I killed people? (definitely my kid)

Me: Yes

LR: Would you love me if I killed everyone? (should I be concerned?)

Me: Yes. I would love you. I wouldn't like the choices you've made, but I would love you. Why are you asking these questions?

LR: I just wanted to see how deep your love is

My Name is My Name is.........

I understand that there are A LOT of people in the world. I understand that you meet throngs of people each day and can't be bothered to actually remember everyone's name. However, you should make a fucking point of learning and committing to memory the names of the fucking people that PAY YOU, that MAKE SURE YOUR BENEFITS ARE CORRECT, THAT PROTECT YOU FROM THE ASS CLOWNS THAT ARE YOUR BOSSES THAT WANT TO FORCE YOU TO USE VACATION TIME FOR A DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENT INSTEAD OF SICK TIME. Yes. These people's names you should remember. Make a point of it. Use it when you meet us for the first time. Write it down. Take a picture of us, write our name on it, and tape it up next to the picture of your family you keep at your desk. Because if you continue to call me by someone else's name even though you've been here for a year, I did your orientation, I answer your phone calls and emails about your insurance problems, I visit your office several time each year with important information, I harass you about getting your training done each and every month, and I'm the one that makes sure that you have fucking working air condition in the middle of the fucking summer when it's over 100 degrees outside...I promise you I'll make sure you'll never get another paycheck. I promise you that I'll lose your insurance enrollment forms. I promise you that the air condition will never work in your office again except during the coldest months of the year when I will make sure that it's set to 10 degrees.



Learn my name! I am but one person. I have to learn all 130 of your names. Don't fuck with me.

If it's in the computer, it must be so

Yesterday I went to the doctor. I don't ever really mind going to the doctor. I usually have...an...experience. Yesterday was no exception. The new medical assistant was taking my vitals and was asking me questions to verify that I was, in fact, me. However, she asked WAAAAYYYYY more questions than anyone ever has there.

Ass Clown Medical Assistant: Do you know your birthdate?

Me: Yes, I do.

ACMA: What is it?

Me: 1-28-71

ACMA: Are you sexually active?

Me: Define "active"

ACMA: Are you having sex?

Me: Well, not right now. That would be awkward, wouldn't it?

ACMA: I need to put down something.

Me: My husband and I are rarely together awake without the kids. What do you think? But, maybe once or twice a year we manage to get our groove on. Geez.

ACMA: Let's see....you've had a tonsilectomy, a ooectomy, a google-ectomy, LEEP, CS-1.

Me: *blank stare*

Me: *blink* Ummm...okay.

ACMA: You've been pregnant 4 times and you have 3 children?

Me: No

ACMA: The computer says you've been pregnant 4 times.

Me: Yes, I have been. But, I have 2 children.

ACMA: The computer says you have 3 living children.

Me: That would be incorrect then.

ACMA: So, you were pregnant 4 times?

Me: Yes.

ACMA: The computer says you have 3 children at home.

Me: Well, if you want to get fucking technical about it, yes. However, I can tell you with a great fucking deal of certainty that I only have 2 living children. Thank you so much for brightening my day.

ACMA: I'm sorry ma'am. I'm just going by what the computer says.

Me: Can we move this along? I'd like to go slit my wrists now.

ACMA: Let's see...your tests came back abnormal in 1998 and in 2008. Is that right?

Me: If that's what the computer says.

ACMA: Alrighty, let's take your blood pressure!

Me: Is this a joke?

ACMA: What?

Me: You seriously go through all of that and THEN you want to take my blood pressure?

ACMA: Haha!

Now, once that ass clown left the room, everything was fine. The doctor came in and the usual crazy went on.

My doctor talks like the guy from the Micro Machine commercials. Really fucking fast. It's like she main lines Starbucks extra caffeinated extra venti 6 word coffees. It's funny. So she comes in:

Micro Machine Doctor: Heyhowareyouyou'relookinggoodwow!

Me: Hey! Thanks!

MMD: Youlostweightyoulookgood

Me: Yeah. Thanks

MMD: Howarethekids?

Me: Great

MMD: Welllet'sseeyouhadanatypicalcellonyourlasttestsowe'llrunthetestthistimeandgofromthere

Me: Okie dokie. Sounds good

MMD: Whatkindofbirthcontrolareyouusing?

Me: Abstinence. We hardly spend time together

MMD: *laughs* Couldyoutalktomy18yearoldpatients? *laughs*

Me: *laughs*

Then the whole exam thing was bizarre in and of itself because she and her nurse proceeded to chat with each other and with me and I'm just like...."Could we possibly wait until I'm dressed and don't have my legs in stirrups to have this discussion?" More laughter.

Now, MMD and I did have that "I need to make sure that I never get pregnant again" talk. She went over several things, but she feels quite strongly that I have been through a lot in my life and really my husband should man up and just get the fucking vasectomy.

I love her

"What Made You So Shy?"

I'm taking acting classes. I know...cool, right? Anyway, acting is something that I've always wanted to do, but have allowed that overwhelming fear of speaking in front of people keep me from so much as trying it. Just the mere thought of standing in front of people and having to speak made my stomach go in knots and makes me want to throw up. Well, over the past few years I've made some progress. I wouldn't say that I'm ready to give any major speeches, but I can at least get my fat ass up and talk. If I say something stupid, I can laugh at myself instead of walking in front of a bus. The embarassment truly isn't as bad as you would think. Hell, cancer is bad....war is bad...embarassment is really nothing.

That first class where I had to stand up and introduce myself and give a little information about why I was interested in acting was the worst. That was the first step. Nearly 8 or 9 weeks later, I have to say that I am more confident. Oh, I absolutely get a case of nerves before I get up there, but it's nothing like it used to be. I'm able to make eye contact when speaking. I'm able to form coherent thoughts. I am discovering that not only do I enjoy acting, but I actually have some talent. Go fucking figure.

This past week I went to my first Improv class. Now, although I've gotten more comfortable performing in front of people, I have to say that just the mere word Improv makes me nervous. I can't even think of it without getting myself worked into a near deathly panic. But, I actually enjoyed the class. I had to get up in front of class and tell them what experience I had with acting (virtually none...unless you want to include working at hotels for years...boy, do hotel employees tell whoppers on the spot all day, every day), why I was interested in acting, when I became interested, etc. Well, I got up and was surprisingly more confident and not really all that uncomfortable compared with the very first acting class I had taken weeks before.

I have been interested in acting all my life. I used to act in my room at home. My cousin would come up with stories and we'd act them out. He filmed one of them when we were about 10 years old or so. It was great. I loved it. But, I was already pretty shy and as I got older I only got more shy. When I told the class this the Improv coach asked "What made you so shy?" That question actually kind of threw me for a loop because I never really gave it a lot of thought. But, it's nearly all I've thought about since he asked.

Let's see....what made me so shy......

She never wanted children. He wanted a lot of children. I was the compromise. All of their hopes and dreams were squarely on my shoulders. She expected a lot. She set the bar really high and I was never able to quite reach it. I learned early that it was a lost cause, but I still kept trying.
She has a certain strict set of rules that EVERYONE should live by and I was the only one under her control. And, control she did. So much so that she told me that if she died, I should just jump in the grave with her because I wouldn't be able to function without her.
Anytime I had an idea or made a plan or got excited about something that I wanted to do, I was basically shot down most of the time. "You can't do that," "You're not going to want to do that," and so on.
As I got older, I dated some of the most controlling guys a person could possibly meet. Just like she did, they dictated what I should wear, how much makeup to wear, who I could talk to, etc. Honestly, what the fuck was I thinking back then? Pretty much the worst thing that could happent to a female happened to me when I was 18. It took me YEARS to get past this. I spent some time single and it was all on me to do what I wanted. It was so freeing. It was wonderful. Still, the fear, the lack of self confidence, and the need to have someone's approval was always there.

What changed? What gave me the courage to begin down this path to what I hope will be fearlessness? Well, something pretty life changing occurred about 7 years ago. I told myself on that day that I wouldn't waste one more minute of my life on negativity. I began figuring out what I wanted to do. I began to slowly throw off those chains that have been placed upon me by those in my life that were keeping me from becoming the person I was meant to be.
Then, only a few months ago, I was slammed with a realization that was so powerful and so forceful that it truly felt like I was punched in the gut. Nothing I do will ever be good enough for her. She will never accept me for the person that I am. She will never like what I choose to do. It was gut wrenching to realize. But, I processed it and I came through it stronger and more determined to do whatever the fuck I wanted to do. I would force myself through the fear so that when I look back on my life I will be able to say that I had the guts to follow my dreams. Sure, I'm starting a bit late, but the point is that I'm doing it.

Now, I may never be a famous actress. I may never become rich as an actress. Neither of those things mean anything to me. I love acting. I absolutely love it. The more I do it, the more I want to do it. I'm getting impatient for the opportunity to actually have a complete body of work to do instead of just short scenes. But, I know that I'm really early on in my training and I need to keep it up. I'd like to be able to support my family with my work as an actress. If I could make at least what I'm making at my job now, I'd be thrilled. Anything more than that will send me running naked down the street squealing like a stuck pig in complete and total glee. But, if I never get an acting job. If all I do is train and go to audition after auditon and never get a part...I'll still be thrilled because I'm working towards something great. I'll be able to look back on my life and know that I worked hard, I enjoyed the ride, and I did what the fuck I wanted to do. There will be no more regrets.

Oh My God! I can't believe it's YOU!

So, I went to a junior high school reunion. Yes, that's right. I said JUNIOR high school. I thought it was bizarre myself. Anyway, I fully expected to get there and be bored. I know it's awful to say this, but I really had no interest in seeing any of those people again. It's not that I wish any of them any ill, but the past is the past and well, no need to drag out all those memories and shit.

Fuck it. I went. At first, I didn't recognize anyone. Seriously, I was looking around and there was absolutely no one that I saw that looked even vaguely familiar. Okay. So, my husband and I had paid to be there and there was liquor and food and we had each other. We got a couple of drinks and started chatting with each other. I was perfectly okay with talking to my husband. He's so cute. (Hi honey! You are the sexiest man alive. You rock my world, baby. *blows kisses in your direction*) Anyway, I look over and see the person I was looking forward to seeing there....my friend Bobby. (Sorry, but you will forever be Bobby to me. I have no idea who this Bob person is) Okay, so it was awkward at first with everyone. Once I had a few drinks in me, I felt more comfortable and was able to chat with people. Still, I recognized almost no one. People would come up to me with that whole "Oh my God! It's been so long! How've you been?" And I would stand there and do my best to convince this person that I remembered them. Truth is, until I saw their name tags, I had no fucking clue who 3/4 of those people were.
As a bonus, those of us that paid ahead of time got to have one of our year book pictures on our name tag. And, as a double bonus, they seemed to have chosen the worst picture of the 3 year book pictures. Awesome! My husband just kept telling me that I looked like a boy. Fucker!

All in all, the night went well. I enjoyed myself. I didn't get as hammered as I ordinarily would have so I didn't make the usual ass of myself. I didn't dance. I didn't take my clothes off. I didn't make out with anyone. I didn't end up in the pool...although I tried hard to get Bobby into the pool. I even promised that if he went in, I'd get in. But, it didn't happen.

As much as I really didn't want to go, I had fun.

My 20 year high school reunion is in just a few weeks. I can't wait! Again, there are only a few people I have any interest in seeing, but what the hell. I may actually make an ass of myself at that reunion. I can't wait to share it with you.

Sweet Dreams are NOT made of these

Red, my 8 year old, is a sleepwalker. This is merely a progression (I suppose) from the night terrors he's had since he was a baby. If you've never experienced a baby (or a child...or anyone for that matter) having night terrors, count yourself as very lucky.



When Red was only a few months old I was woken up by an ear shattering scream from him that one could only assume meant that he'd been stabbed. I went from dead sleep to leaping in 3 strides into his room. When I got there, his eyes were open and he was just screaming. I checked him from head to toe and there was no sign of any injury. He was still screaming. I changed him, he continued screaming. I tried to give him a bottle, he continued screaming. I rocked him, he continued screaming. I sang to him, he continued screaming. I put him in the car and drove him around, he continued screaming. His eyes were wide open, but he was, in fact, still asleep. This only happened a few times, thank GOD. It is a helpless feeling when there is nothing you can do to console your child and he can't even tell you what the problem is.


As he got older and was walking on his own, well, then he began sleepwalking. I have to make sure that all the doors are locked and the keys put somewhere that he can't get to them. In the past he has jumped out of bed and run down the hallway screaming "Momma! Momma!" My room is right next to his and he flew past it. I've found him beating on the back door screaming for me. He's run into the living room screaming for his grandmother. He has even walked into the kitchen thinking it was the bathroom. Thankfully, my husband managed to redirect the boy to the bathroom before he actually peed on the kitchen floor.


I can even tell when Red is about to be sick because he talks in his sleep the night before he gets a fever.


Lately, his sleepwalking activities have go like this...I am suddenly woken up by Red yelling "No! No! No! No! No! No! No!" and then he runs down the hallway. I immediately jump up and attempt to catch him before he gets down the hall, but don't usually make it. I call out his name and he stops, turns, and walks to me and hugs me. I ask him if he's okay. He typically mumbles something unintelligible. Then we walk to his room and he crawls back in bed. The next morning as I'm dragging ass because of exhaustion and he's all smiles and energy, I ask him about it and he has no memory of any of it.


These are just a few of the sleepwalking/sleep talking instances that have gone on in his life. His father is also a sleepwalker/sleeptalker so I suppose that it's inherited. His father actually slept walked out of the house when he was only 4 years old. They found him several blocks away walking along a canal. This is why I'm very careful about locking everything and keeping the keys where he can't get to them. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when he gets older.


He goes through phases. It won't happen for a long time and then we'll have several nights in a row. Also, when he goes through a difficult time (his dad and I are divorced and his dad is not always...the most reliable person) is when his sleep walking takes on the frantic running and yelling. He's not violent or anything, though.


All of this makes for a difficult time for me to sleep. I'm always listening for him...afraid that one night I won't hear him get up and he'll either get out or he'll hurt himself accidentally.


I know I make it sound awful. It's not the harrowing experience that it was when he was a baby. Now he's aware that he sleep walks and when he hears my voice or my husband's voice, he doesn't necessarily wake up, but he calms down and redirects himself, almost as if he's aware while still asleep that he's sleepwalking. It's as if he can control what's going on. Strange, but true.


Anyway...this is a long, boring post. Sorry. This is what happens when I only get an hour of sleep.

Some Day My Prince Will Come....NOT!

Why do women insist on playing stupid games with men? Why? Men are not psychics (the majority of them, anyway). They have no idea that when you say "I'm fine," that you really are upset that he didn't plan anything special for the evening. They truly believe that you are fine and everything is good. They don't know that you are hoping for roses and champagne and a romantic carriage ride instead of grabbing a nice dinner and going to a movie. Most guys do the best they can with the knowledge they have. If you want something special or out of the ordinary, you need to let him know. Don't expect that just because you casually mentioned 2 months ago how you wanted to take a pottery class that he's going to sign you up for one for your birthday.

Yes. There are those guys that are even more dense. You could give them a list of things that you want for Christmas complete with pictures, sizes, color preference, prices, which store/aisle/place in the aisle to find each item and they'll still say "I have no idea what to get you for Christmas." In those instances I suggest that you just go buy your own damn gifts, wrap them, and put your own name on it. He's just not going to get it.

Disney has planted this ridiculous notion in the female head that there are princes out there that will be romantic and we'll live "happily ever after." Hon, you can't depend on any guy to be your "happily ever after." You need to find what you are looking for within yourself. Guys are not romantic creatures by nature. They are (I hate to even say this since I'm a female myself) more logical and rational than most women. They look at a tree and see a tree. They don't look at a tree and imagine the two of you lounging on a picnic blanket under that tree sharing a bottle of champagne and having romantic moments. So, unless you tell your man exactly what the fuck you want, you shouldn't be fucking disappointed when you don't get it.

Bottom line, ladies. If you don't tell men what you want, they will never know. Don't get pissed at them because you said "You don't have to get me anything for my birthday," and he doesn't. That's completely your fault.

TELL THEM WHAT YOU WANT. SAY WHAT YOU MEAN! And, trust me...your relationship will be much better for it.

A Breath Away

Your time with us was so brief, but you changed my life so profoundly in just those few precious moments. Although my broken heart will never mend, I refuse to be bitter or angry over losing you because it would tarnish the memory of the beautiful, precious time you spent with us. I do truly cherish each second I had with you.

My beautiful angel, I may not be able to hold you or even touch you, but I see you every day. I feel you here with me. You gave me hope when I thought all was lost. You taught me to see the beauty in everything. You gave me strength when I had none. You gave me courage to go on when all I wanted to do was curl up and die with you. I vowed on that day, April 18, 2002, to make every moment of the rest of my life mean something. In your memory, I embrace every breath. In your honor, I embrace life.

So, though you never got the chance to truly live, you have left your mark on this world and left your tiny footprint on my heart.

Dead Inside

I've been told that I'm dead inside. Honestly, the way I see it, it's not a bad thing. It's not that I don't FEEL. It's that I don't SHOW feelings and, ordinarily, I handle tragedy and sadness with humor. It's a coping mechanism for me. To everyone else, it looks like callousness. Fuck 'em.

Death and tragedy are a part of life. If I allow myself to let in all the crappy things that go on in this world, I would crumple into a heap and never be able to function again. It's not that things don't affect me as profoundly as they affect others, but crying about it and dwelling on it will not change anything. The dead are still dead, the sick are still sick, the poor are still poor, injustice is still out there, and there is no prince riding up on a white horse to save the maiden. So, my motto has simply become Suck It Up.

I cry. Sure, I do. It's rare, but it happens. When it happens, it's usually away from others. No need to subject others to that. I don't like discussing my feelings. I'm very much like a male in that regard. Life is too fucking short to lay around feeling sorry for yourself or others or beating someone else over the head with your sob story. Enjoy every moment that you can. The sucky parts of life are what makes the rest so great.

Word

Blame, Forgiveness, and Life

Looking back, it would be easy for me to blame myself for the bad things that happened to others in my life. It would be easy for me to blame myself for the losses I've experienced. But I won't do that. It wasn't my fault. Things happen because they happen. There are things that are out of our control and we have to accept that and move on. Yes. Bad things happen to good people. Bad things happen to all people. If we blame ourselves for the deaths or unhappiness or hurt of others, we would never be able to move on. We would stand still until the day we died and it would be unlikely that our souls would ever be at peace. I will not allow myself to linger in that dangerous area of blame. The pain of the loss is difficult enough without dragging myself down the path of self loathing and blame.

It is better to live my life as a person changed for the better by having known the person I've lost. Continuing to live my life to the fullest would be the greatest tribute to those that can no longer live. If the roles were reversed and I were the one not here instead of them, I would want them to not just go on with their lives, but to follow their dreams, follow their hearts, and take chances. Never stand still. Life is short enough as it is. Who knows, tomorrow it could be you that the world mourns. Would you want your loved ones to stop at that moment and linger in the pity and sadness over your loss? Or would you want them to deal with the grief and push through and find happiness again?

It's one thing to remember a person and keep them in your heart. It's another thing entirely to stop being who you are and essentially end your life when you lose someone. You may go through the motions, but you cannot truly live this way.

And, before anyone gets pissed at me, I have lost people close to me. I have lost a child and came very dangerously close to losing another. I know that overwhelming pain. I know that feeling of wanting to die with them. So, I'm not just being hateful by saying this. If you choose to let the pain swallow you, and it is absolutely a choice because to suggest anything else would mean that you have no control over your life, then you are choosing to leave your life unfinished.

Death is not fair. Life is not fair. We must play the hand we are dealt. Blaming God or fate or whatever or whoever you feel has taken this person away from you also keeps you from growing and dealing with the pain and it keeps you from moving on. We may never know the reasons why our loved ones are taken from us. Cursing God will not heal you. You must let go of the blame. You must let go of the anger.

Make no mistake. I'm not suggesting that you forget that person. We all want and need to be remembered. But rather than using all of your energy being sad, or angry, or blaming yourself or others, use that energy to live your best life. Honor that person by doing all of those things that you've always wanted to do. Don't make excuses. If that person had the opportunity to come back right now, I guarantee that they would make every moment count. So why don't you?