Another Empty Space…

Everywhere I look for you an empty space is there…Whether it’s the empty living room spot where you might appear, or your place in my new home where you should be…I would give anything to hear your voice one more time right now.  Years ago I saw you for the last time, and my love for you stands to this day.

I believe a lot of people try to fill their empty spaces with many, many things…

Some use relationships–but I don’t need a romantic interest to validate who I am.

Some use alcohol, which numbs the pain, but that space they long to fill is still empty.

Some use drugs, yet the pain is always there–only seeming to be more intensified.

Some use holy roads, but there are so many to choose from, so I wonder if there is a ‘right’ one at times.

Some use power, but that is because they lost their way, and the space is never filled.

Some use money, but it will not buy anything fit to fill that vacancy left in the wake of your going.

Some use possessions, as if one thing can truly replace the spirit that once inhabited that space.

I choose to reserve that space. Even if it remains unfilled, for it is not as though anything else could replace you.

Freedom puts my faith in what you left behind, and believe me, that legacy is a rich one.

Wisdom does dictate that I can create a new space for a new entity–but the Universe would really need to move a bit.

 

Have a great week!

 

The Aurora Borealis appeared in Nebraska in 2006….It is one of the wonders I wish to see!

Farewell My Warrior

I stood up here again today.  I waited quietly for the sign or a word from you.  I felt so alone–isolated and unloved without you here.  I kept dwelling on why you were taken from me, weeping softly as the willow trees harmonized along with the wind.   It was then I felt the embrace of the South Wind.  The warmth of it made me aware of a presence I hadn’t noticed before.   I felt as if I were being embraced when I was asking why you were gone.  I looked to my right and saw a number of blue jays in a nearby try.  They didn’t move even if I moved closer, but kept watching me…

It was then I remembered something else–a story an old man in the village had told me about how the cardinals and blue jays watch over us at times.  I could almost hear you telling me that it was alright.  I could almost feel you wrap your arms around me in that wind.  Then the clouds started to blow in and a mist began to fall…I then heard the cry of the Eagle.  I knew the time to mourn would pass and that the Eagle would guide me to the point to where I could find you.

I began to walk further into the forest on that mountain and the rain began to fall.  I found a cave and went inside.  The storm grew worse, but I knew the Eagle guided me here for a reason. As the thunder roared and the rain quenched the thirst of the forest, I felt a slumber come over me.  I laid down on my jacket and closed my eyes.  I then walked through a field toward a magnificent lake.  The mountains there were much taller than here and had more green trees and beautiful flowers. It was there I saw the white stallion.  You once promised me that when I saw a white stallion, it would mean that I would go to another land, far away from the land of my tears.

I had little idea that when I arrived back home, a plane ticket to a place called Montana was waiting for me.  I guess that it is there that I will discover a new world–and a new life.  I did not know that I would be needed elsewhere, but you did.  You told me this long before I lost you.  I will go forth now and will shed no more tears.  This was meant to be.  What awaits me there, I am not sure, but I know that when you told me that I would leave here, I never thought that I would have to live this vision alone.  Until we meet again.  Farewell, my warrior.

The water behind the mountain ahead...

 

 

The Great All American “Nanahood”–Part 2

As much joy as I have over a grandson coming into this world, something happened this week that raised the hairs on my head and made me have one of my “moments”…It was a moment in that I was so mad, I just wanted to lash out at someone I perceived was being total dipstick. WARNING: IF you are sensitive to graphic descriptions, skip down to the 4th paragraph now.

As some know, my son Kevin was hurt in an oil-rig mishap yesterday.  He has to follow-up with a doctor.  He has abdominal bruising and muscle  injuries but no broken bones (Thank God!).  He found out very quickly that his mama is very protective and if she perceives that someone is not following safety protocols she gets all bent out of shape…OUT of shape enough to tell off his bosses.  When I saw the awful bruising and swollen places where he landed when thrown on the platform today, I almost totally blew because they allowed him to leave the rig with his brother rather than call an ambulance.

Here’s the catch.  Kevin told them he was going to have Eric take him because if he waited on the ambulance he might have died.  Seriously…After thinking for a few moments, I realized that he was right and calmed down.  Kevin said he honestly thought one or two of his organs got knocked through his abdominal wall and was trying to hold them in!  I was not told this by any of my sons when he was first taken.  I later learned this was like blood pockets from bruising but some things show up later rather than sooner so he is going to follow-up.

I am sorry to be so graphic but as I heard this, he also made a statement that almost made me cry.  “Mama…When I landed and saw how it looked, my first thoughts when to my unborn son.”  I didn’t cry when he said it, but I had those thoughts as well as I waited to hear word on his condition.   Seeing his injuries made me stop and take a deep breath.

As a sergeant in corrections, we played “What if?” games to prepare for certain things.  I realize whether my son made it nor not, I am responsible for Daphne and this baby–not to mention the other three children because he is the only father figure they have really known. I do feel they are going to see a big difference in his outlook on life after this incident.  I do not have much, but they are my family too, and if it is within my power, they will be taken care of–especially if anything were to ever happen to my son.

I am so grateful that he was spared.  His job is a dangerous one.  This is the 2nd time he’s been hurt and since he is my youngest, it scared the living hell out of me.  I also learned that this young man has gone through some emotional growth since he found out that he is going to be a father.  I saw the look in his eyes as he told me how his thoughts went to the baby.  To see a father so deeply love his own unborn child moves me in ways that he cannot even imagine.   I won’t cry in front of him but I did later.

This baby is one lucky boy.   He is going to have a devoted and loving dad, and this mother is very proud of her youngest son–even if she wishes he could go back to college rather than risk his life any further.

I think that Kevin also learned that he is still the youngest and is always going to be the baby of this family.  This family pulls together.  This family will take care of its own.  I can be over an hour away, but I will get there when I am needed.  I am proud of his brothers for rallying around him.  I know in my heart now that if push comes to shove, they will be there for one another–even when the day comes that I am gone and can no longer be there for them. That gives me some peace of mind.

Goodnight all!  Have a link on me!

This is a beautiful Native American number and I find it highly peaceful and comforting right now:   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTri6Rf4rVU&list=PL1371296F1DB8A173&index=14&feature=plpp_video

 

I learned to be very thankful in the past 48 hours...Please go check out this blog too. Very good stuff!

The All-American “Nanahood”!

Someone welcomed  me to the All-American “Nanahood” today…As mentioned before, I am going to be a grandmother.  My mind flooded with emotion when we found that my baby, Kevin, is having his own baby–and it is a boy…He will arrive onto this troubled orb sometime around 27 July 2012.  I’ve looked at the significance of the date in History, and then decided I’ll wait until he gets here to deal with that post…However, I will let it be known now that I thank God he is not coming in November or December since those are the months that his father, his two uncles and I have birthdays and everyone is always freaking broke because Christmas is RIGHT AFTER!  ***I am rejoicing there! Seriously!***

Being that I have raised 3 sons, I can deal with this little guy fairly well!  He’s going to be raised on football, baseball, Shakespeare and Heavy me–I mean several genres of music. Above all, he will learn to watch the sky and know what the changes mean,  as well as how to hear the 4 winds.  He’ll know the differences between the birds. He will also know to thank the universe for what is given to him.  If we are ever by the ocean again, he’ll learn to watch the tides.   All of these things I learned, and more.  To those who do not understand this, it would seem to be useless but I have never been  harmed by tornadoes and such yet…NO weather man can predict the weather like this family can anyway.

Have a great week!

Killing Time–and the Wisdom of Beavis and Butthead, and the “Breakfast Club”

One of the most horrible things about living in our world is that we are slaves to a bloody clock.  Our days are divided up into segments of 24 hours rather than from sunrise to sundown.  If I ever have my way, my day will go back to the natural way it was meant to be.   To be honest, I am mainly tired and ill in bed with the flu as I type this, but I still will type  away.

However I am grateful for all of this because it gives me so much time to reflect.  It gives me time to sit back and just BREATHE.  I love life.   I love the opportunities that are opening up for me–and they are there.  I see them on the dream board I’ve been building onto and adding to for over a year.  Time, reflections and travel are recurring themes on it and I know it will come to pass.

I constantly think outside the box. I’ve never had the opportunity to really study the arts which I find to be fascinating, but I did have the opportunity to read many books, which breathe life into many a subject–if they are able to keep my interest longer than some of the people I have met.  Because of a lot of drama and trauma, I was the reclusive creature in my younger years.  I was a lot like Ally Sheedy‘s character in “The Breakfast Club” too–minus the stealing.  I couldn’t draw like she could–but I could write.  That was my escape from the cruel world in which I lived. I find that this fan made video featuring the character of Allison Reynolds was perfect:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lPbfshzJ9g&feature=related

To me that was the character, that in real-life, who was probably the most misunderstood and (most likely) misguided among them all.  No one knew what went on in her head until she acted on it.  She didn’t share much until later.  No one knew what pain she went through outside of the school-house walls.  I wonder where she would be in a class reunion today?  I know where I am–usually…Notably absent and with reason.

This is what Allison and I needed to hear when we were younger…Maybe one day if she hasn’t already–we will hear this from SOMEONE:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1bcQMCZ5gU

I dreamed of one day having the courage to even get in front of people again, which I now have.

“…I am I myself alone…I realize I never need to use no one–money, power, holy roads…Freedom puts my faith in none of the above…”–Duran Duran (From ‘None of the Above‘)…

I can so relate to that song. You can hear it in its entirety here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ezrtGrpvSk

I lived that song and I really would like to cover it with an all female band…Growing up in the south has been confining in some ways, but very free in others.  Now before all my Baptist relatives and friends start sending me e-mails, I will say this.  All that song says to me is that we are all responsible for our own paths in life and we have to choose those for ourselves.  Many of us were brought up to be pleasing and accommodating, when in reality, it is that nature in some of us that made us so weak that we reach a breaking point.  We have to walk away in order to find our own answers at times–and it has nothing to do with whether we believe in a creator as much as it has to do with the fact that every person’s steps have to be directed from within.

It is when we follow our consciences that we often come up against stiff opposition from our families and communities and we are forced to conform and be accepted or go our own way and face their anger at their loss of influence over our everyday lives.  They learn to deal with it, just as we learn to deal with the fact that some will never accept us as we are as individuals.

My dad used to really get angry if I failed to call him at least once or twice a month.  One time he actually called the sheriff of the county I live in thinking that I went missing.  I love him to this day for that.  I also miss him terribly, even though there were times he really got upset because he couldn’t influence certain decisions of mine–including who to vote for.  You see, if you don’t vote the way the family thinks you should vote, they think you come close to being a candidate for a frontal lobotomy for the simple fact that you break family traditions–at least it seems that way sometimes!

What blew his mind is when I actually would show him how people he supported actually voted on the issues. After that, he never voted a straight party ticket either–at least I do not think he did.  It was also after that day he finally accepted the fact that I march to my drum and he didn’t have to worry over it.

As I was growing up, women were still being raised to be home-makers…Well, I didn’t exactly fit the mold.  I worked and raised my kids.  Sometimes it involved having 2-3 jobs.  Again, my life was ran by a clock.  People would say “budget your time”…I’d say, “You are so full of it. I work 2 jobs, attend college and am raising kids.  I only have an allotment of 8 hours to budget for sleep–and that is if one of my kids isn’t sick!”

After some of my “friends” had kids of their own, they figured out what I meant.  I wouldn’t trade those days for anything.  They molded me into who I am today.  When I am home sick, my boys get me chicken soup and Gatorade! Gatorade!  The fix all for everyone’s ailments and/or injuries (according to them)!  I think they got that off of Beavis and Butthead to be honest…Want proof?  Here it is!  Here is a clip from the “Dog Bite” episode!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60GCIZqoVfw

Well, anyway, just because they are grown now, doesn’t mean that things change.  They still need Mom from time to time and it makes her feel pretty good–even though they don’t know it!  I keep it to myself a lot.  When they get sick, I tend to look in on them, but God Forbid that I actually get them medicine!  They refuse to take it for some reason–unless it’s REALLY serious enough to have antibiotics for.  Maybe more of that Comanche blood is in them than I thought!

Well, anyway, life is good…I am happy and I love my boys–as well as my unborn grand child…

I’ll know whether to buy for a boy or girl on the 28th and I’ll spill the beans for sure!  Take care and have a great weekend! I only hope that all the other Allison’s in the world find this sense of peace…

You Just Had to Ask Me…

Note: While I am on my “hiatus” of sorts from discussing certain things  on the blog, I hope you enjoy this interlude of a different story while I keep working on part 6 of “Centuries Under the Moon”–Kadja

The older man came to her and sat next to her…’Wanna dance?”  he asked, brushing back his salt and pepper hair from his face, which had just enough lines to reveal that he was a hard-working man with some determination.

“No. I don’t dance.” she said as she was trying to listen to the band, brushing her black bangs from her eyes.

“You don’t dance? Seriously?” he asked her.

“No. I don’t.  What part don’t you get?” she said firmly as smoke continued to fill the air–and he continued to invade her space…

“Wanna take a walk outside?” he asked.

“No.” she said again.

She had seen the wedding band and knew this guy’s drill.  She already knew there was no common ground with him, so she put her barrier between them quickly.  He was one of many that she had no use for–let alone a desire to get acquainted with.  She kept to herself–until she walked onto stage. Then she let it out.  All that angst–and the power to release it ignited her defiant soul more than ever as she shook her head to one side, her black hair moving away from her green eyes as she took that microphone into her hand.

She then went back to her booth, where a reporter she was expecting had been waiting.  He was a young man, close to her age.  Very good-looking, and he knew she was a tough one to interview. His editor had warned him about how she can be. Yet there she was–all 5’5″ of her.  He stood 6’1″.  When his brown eyes locked on her, he knew this woman was different from the others he’d had dealt with before and he knew that he’d better tread lightly.  Her bottle of Patron and a lit candle were waiting for her, along with two glasses.  She offered him a drink, which he accepted.  She noticed that the sandy colored locks this reporter had were a sharp contrast to Michael Redding’s well-kept black hair. She also liked it that he showed up in jeans and a T-shirt, and appeared to have not shaven in two days as opposed to Michael’s “everything has to be perfect” look.

“You have no one in your life?” he asked after they conversed for some time, talking about her upbringing in Oregon and her family–which she didn’t say much about–YET.

What difference does it make? I have plenty of people who support what I do and I don’t have time to limit myself in any way.  No man has ever loved me for the creature that I am so I fly solo and I sleep solo.” she responded.

“Even though Michael Redding is telling all who will hear him that he wants a relationship beyond friendship?” the reporter asked.

“As I said, what difference does it make?” she asked.

“He seems like a nice enough guy–”

“Which is why I’m doing him a favor by avoiding him this week since that is the public perception.” she mused.

“He’s heir to the Biotechna fortune.” the reporter said, puzzled that she would say such a thing when they seemed to be so close.

“And?”

“But you two seem to go very well together in public–”

“That’s what he tells me.”  she said.

“You’re not going to tell me if you two are in a relationship, are you?” he asked.

“IF we were, I wouldn’t be interviewing with you alone in a darkened booth in a friggin’ bar.” she grinned, as shafts of light flashing into the booth revealed her dark red lips and pale skin.

“Do you have a hard time in relationships?” he asked out of curiosity.

“No because I never enter into arrangements with anyone. I don’t believe in it. If I want to play house, I’ll hire a gigolo.” she said sarcastically as a sheepish grin came across her face.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“People in this town hook up to find convenient arrangements for combining resources and such.  You will find that many couples in this business aren’t in love but they only stay together because they can tolerate each other.  In other words, they play house.  I know four couples right now who cannot say “I love you” to each other, which sucks because two of those couples brought kids into this bitch we refer to as our world.  Their teen children are screwed up because they know why their parents are together–just like mine were back in the heyday of this town.  No thank you.  Men who want that do not interest me. I’m not an investment or a breeding mare.”  she said.

“So you plan to avoid romance altogether? That seems rather sad.”  the reporter said.

“There is no such thing as romance–especially here. It’s all about appearances.  I don’t believe in romantic love anymore. Everyone in this town is about getting into an arrangement.  If they weren’t, you wouldn’t find so many of them screwing around on each other like my own parents did.” she said.

“You have been at odds with your parents for years.  Do you speak to them now?” he asked.

“Not very often.” she said.

“Why?  They seem like nice people–”

“My stepfather is one of the coolest people on the planet.  So is my dad. I cannot say the same about my mother or that bitch my father sleeps with and calls a wife.  I don’t care if you print that or not Mr. Jacobson.  I talk to neither of my parents since I had to go to court to get their hands off of my bank accounts.” she said.

“This is what the feud is over?  Money?” he asked.

“That’s what they WANT to think.  It’s not. It’s about their inability to live their own sick lives through their daughter and son.  They did the same to my younger brother.” she said.

“He committed suicide.” the man said.

“Yes.  AFTER dear old MOM cleared out his funds.  Then she sent part of it to dad via the stepmom and he says he never saw a dime of it although she admits she had it.”  she mused.

“Will you ever make amends with them? They seem to be reaching out to you now–”

“For more money. Here! I’ll prove it.” she grinned as she turned on her speaker phone.

“What’s up Ce Ce?” she asked her stepmother.

“Is this for another one of your business schemes–like the one that broke dad’s company?” she asked.

“No! It’s for your father’s eye surgery and I have no time for–”

“Well, if it weren’t for the lasik I’d send it but I know how you operate. You’d use it elsewhere.”  she said flatly.

“Come on! Reese, what is $15,000 to you?  We are your family–”

“Dad is my family. You are nothing.  He told me he was scrapping the lasik thing last week. Nice try, CeCe.” she said as she hung up.

“Mr. Whatever your name is–THAT is how my family is. Always with a hand out. Always a new lie.  She’s not half as bad as my mother is.  I’m surprised my step dad hasn’t left her ass.   She’s still paying back money she robbed from me.”  she said to him.

“So you’ve been robbed of your childhood, robbed of part of your fortune and robbed of what good in life you can have out of fear of being used?”  the reporter asked.

‘I am a corporation, am I not? I am used every day. Even Mr. Redding will tell  you that much.  I’m not marrying or moving in with him either–and you can print that in the papers, the book, I don’t care…  I like my space.  He asked me to marry him four times in three months, but when he sees my prenup he tries to skirt it so I don’t see him any longer.” she said.

“I just think it is sad that you can trust no one.  Off the record.  Why did you let me interview you?” he asked her.

“You just had to ask me.” she mused.

“I really want to know.” he said.

“Your name is Stephen Robinson and you work for the Herald, correct?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I chose you because you don’t bullshit. I like that.  I like that article you did on Tibet too.” she said.

“Why do I get the sense that this may head elsewhere?” he asked.

“I’m hiring you to write my biography.  Didn’t your boss tell you that?  IF you decide to do it, you’ll have the exclusive.  You’ll be traveling with me and my band mates–IF I decide to regroup.  You’ll see the good, the bad and the ugly–and the fugly too. ” she grinned.

“Is there anything about the “fugly” I need to know about?”  he asked.

“I have maybe a year to live and I want the truth out.  I’m making my will tomorrow.  I refuse medical treatment as my younger sister died of this particular blood disorder I have.  Here is the reality.  I will never have a normal life. I will never get married or be a mother…In short, you get to write about how f**ked up my life and my family really is.  I know you can bring it out the way it needs to be brought out.  You’ll also be there at the end.  My band knows nothing and neither does my family, my agent or my manager.  I don’t fear dying either. It is the only release I’ll have from the ongoing bullshit in my family anyway.” she said.

“This is a joke, right?” he asked.  Then he noticed as a faint shaft of light came across her face.  A tear had rolled down her cheek.

“I wish it were one of my f***ing jokes.  I would be laughing hysterically if it were.  However, I will leave them nothing. Absolutely nothing.  At the same time, I want to learn how to really live.  Does that make sense?”  she asked as her tone became more resolute and she wiped the tear from her cheek with the sleeve of her blouse.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I want to do what I have always been afraid to do–starting with bungee jumping. Go with me.” she said.

“Bungee jumping?” he asked.

“Bungee Jumping…Right after I get my will signed.  By the way, you are getting a hefty check for all of this shit.” she told him.

“What if you chicken out of the jump?” he asked.

“That’s what YOU’RE there for…To make sure I don’t, dammit.” she said.

“Oh so I’m a personal assistant to you now?  I am sorry but I don’t know how to–”

“Just bring whatever you need to write.  Don’t be anything less than honest either.  That is all I ask of you.” she said as she downed a shot of tequila.

“Look, Miss Harrison–”

“Look at it this way.  Either you write it or nobody else will.” she said flatly.

“I need to think this over and talk with my editor–”

“You’re getting exclusive rights to the story.  I’m paying you $150,000 to write it, plus 50% royalties in any film rights and such,  with a $50,000 advance  for your time.  He knows that.  Besides, you free-lance anyway. IF you want it in writing–”

“Miss Harrison, this is a huge assignment for me.  I need to think about it.  I was going to go to Nepal–”

“Which you’ll have plenty of time to do later because if it’s about the orphanage, I am part of that benefit taking place there.  All I am asking for is part of your time–not 24/7–unless you want to get the whole deal.” she said.

He didn’t have to think beyond 48 hours.  $150K for a year…Not bad and it’s not exactly chump change given the fact that other writers, at least in his mind, were superior to him.  Stephen Robinson knew this assignment would be life changing–but he had no idea how much.  He went to her house in Beverly Hills 2 days later.  When her maid answered the door, Reese was pouting on the stair case.

“TWO days…It took you two days to make up your mind?  I didn’t go bungee jumping either. Thanks for nothing.” she pouted.

“You didn’t need to do that right away anyhow.  Besides, I had loose ends to tie up.” he said.

“Whatever.” she mused as she stood up and went into her conservatory.  While the maid, Abigail, showed him to his room, she told him, “Mr.  Robinson, she is really mad about you taking two days.  She only goes in the conservatory and composes like this when she is angry. Just let her be for a couple of hours and she’ll be fine.  She’s furious with Mr. Redding too.” she warned him.

He was amazed by her choice of decor.  She stayed true to the history of the house, which was built during the early 1900′s.  There was an ornate fireplace in her den, another living area with a smaller one and huge bay windows that had a view of the pool. He noticed the bar and made particular note that everything in the rooms had solid colors–no patterns.  Abigail explained that she did the main rooms of the house in this fashion due to her sister’s epilepsy when she came to visit.  According to Abigail, almost any extreme pattern or something as simple as a flashing light could cause a seizure, so Reese was taking extra precautions.  She did have hanging crystals in her conservatory though and there was some pattern to that.

He loved the deep blue and silver accents and the  fabric adorned it.  There was no straying from the color scheme except to add grey throws to the chairs.  He was also keen to the scent of enchiladas cooking.

“Why? He’s crazy about her–”

“That’s what he wants her to think but she caught him two timing her a few months back when they was together.  He hit her when she refused to take him back. Now he wants her back again and she said very nasty things to him and told him to get out of her life–only she used more curse words.  She really fears him, Sir.” she said.

“Well, thanks for the heads up.” he told her.

“You seem like a nicer guy than he was.  I hope she takes a likin’ to ya!  She deserves some happiness after her mother pulled that stunt last week on her.”  she said.

“What stunt was that?” he asked.

“She tried to get control of her money again but the judge threw it out.  She’s 28 now and she can do what she wants and it just ticks her mama off.  She seems so sad lately though.  She doesn’t joke around much any more.  I’ve known her since she was 12.  Something is not right about her.”  Abigail said.

“Well I’ll see what I can do.” he said as he scratched his head.

When he unpacked, showered and shaved, Abigail was knocking at his door frantically…”Mr. Robinson please come!”

“What’s the matter, Abigail?” he asked as he opened his door after hastily putting on jeans and a T-Shirt. Then he heard the sound of crashing glass.

“She’s in a bad way again, Mr. Robinson–Mr. Redding made her mad again! They are down there arguing and I’m afraid he will slug her like he did before when they were together!”

As he entered the den she threw another vase at Michael yelling, “I told you to get the f**k out of my life and stay out! I meant it then and I damned well mean it now!”

“Look, Reese…I’m sorry you got hurt.  She means nothing to me,” he told her as he tried to get close to her.  She then pulled a letter opener out, “Don’t you dare come near me!” she yelled.

“Reese, you know you aren’t going to do that.  Put it down–”

“Back off dammit!” she yelled.

“I’m not going to hurt you again, Reese–”

“I think you’d better get the hell out of here.” Stephen said firmly to him.

“Oh…And who might you be? I think you’re the one who had better learn your place around me–”

“Anytime you feel lucky, bring it.,” Stephen told him, “But you will not bother her again.  I mean it.”  He saw that Reese still had the letter opener in her hand and she was shaking.

“You work for her?  Gee…Wait until you see how idiotic she is!  She thinks anyone who is with her has to be f***ing perfect! I screwed around on her one time and she  acts like she’s holier than thou! Maybe if she f***ing knew how to put out to a man, she’d be able to keep one–”

“Maybe if you were a man, I’d have stayed with your ass.” she mused.

“Don’t you talk to me like that! You’re the one who goes on tour after tour–”

“And bailed your ass out of a $7 million dollar debt.  We are done now get out!” she hissed.

He stormed toward the front door, “Reese, I’ll be back when you calm down.  We need to talk about this more–”

“I’m getting a restraining order. Abigail, call the police.” she said.

“Yes ma’am!” Abigail said as she went into another room and called them.

“So that’s the way you want it?” Michael asked her.

“For a long time now. Leave me alone!” she said.

“Fine! Don’t come crying to me when you can’t handle the pressure and shit!” he said.

“Oh I won’t. Believe me.” she said icily.

When Michael left, she sat down shaking as Abigail rushed over to her…

“Are you alright–”

“I am now that he’s gone.  I’ll get the restraining order. I’ve had it.” she said.

“I never would have thought him to be violent.” Stephen said.

“Welcome to just one aspect of my fugly world.” Reese said as she looked up into his eyes. It was then he saw the red mark on her cheek.

“Well, it shouldn’t be like that.” he said as he waited for the police to arrive in the foyer.  When they arrived, they wrote out a criminal trespass for Michael and took her statement.  She filed harassment and assault charges since Abigail saw Redding strike her.

“Well, it’s a good thing the media is already here because those reporters he has in his camp are going to make out like he’s just a friggin’ love-sick victim.”  Reese said.

“Good thing I am here, then. I’ll save it for the book though.”  Stephen said.

“Thank you. I appreciate that more than you know.  It’ll die down in a few days.” she said.

Within a few weeks, Stephen saw how she went about her daily routine.  Her songwriting habits and the various chew out sessions with her management and various band members often perplexed him but at times he laughed.  He found some of it to be rather amusing, and was becoming more drawn to her as she undertook charitable work.  They traveled to Nepal and to Costa Rica together where she saw the wildlife refuge and went bungee jumping with Stephen.

As the sunlight shone upon them and the warm tropical breeze embraced their beings, they were having a bit of a heated debate…

“You can’t be serious about doing this! There is plenty of other things to do in Costa Rica than risk our lives!” Stephen said.

“You’re kidding me, right? If the cord breaks and I die, at least I have nothing to lose.” she mused.

“Don’t talk like that! It isn’t funny!” he said to her.

“It is absurd and that is why I said it. I am merely trying to point out to you that there is nothing to be afraid of.  We’re not that high up and the water is 100 ft. deep.” she said.

“Not that high up? Look do—” she pushed him and jumped afterward.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttt!” he screamed all the way down as she laughed.

They bounced a bit and he shot her a dirty look once they calmed down.

“Why the hell did you push me?! It’s not funny–” he protested.

“I didn’t have all day to wait on you to make your mind up.  I’ve got other things to cross off my list anyway! Why can’t you just admit that it was kind of fun?  You had to have felt a rush–”

“Oh yeah! The rush of DEATH!” he snapped.

“Exactly,” she beamed, “But if it makes you feel any better, my friend, I’ll never push you off  like that again. I promise!”

Something in her smile was rather infectious.  Something in her assertiveness was addicting.  HE finally cracked a smile at her again.

“Do you MEAN that?” he asked her.

“Not really.” she smiled as she winked at him.

“Oh shit…Whatever.” he said.

Sometimes When I Cry…

I learned that my 6th grade English teacher passed away within the past 48 hours.   This was a woman who was tough, but fair.  She always pushed her students to do their best, yet as they got older, she encouraged them to march to the beat of their own drum.  She was best at marching to her own beat in a time that most felt uncomfortable with anyone or anything that was not descended from the same train of thought that they were.

One thing I did learn was that she expected to hear our own voices when we wrote–not a rehashing of what someone else spent months and years pounding into our heads.  There are days I simply want to scream, “This is who I am!” knowing that very few accept my not-so-conventional train of thought (and probably never will).   I do not know that she ever experienced this depth of feeling so alone at times, but I know I experienced it for most of my life.

Death has been a constant companion to me.  It is neither male nor female, and yet it’s presence seems to invade my space and that peace I have as of late.  It is a part of my life, having been touched by it many times in my youth, and damned near experiencing it myself twice. I won’t go into the details of it, but I know what it is to come very close to experiencing that endlessness that everyone seems to fear with  so much dread.

I don’t fear it though.  Why bother fearing it when it touches us all more than we realize?  If anything, it is what we leave behind that we should fear.  It is the failing of saying “I love you.” to those closest to us each day that should have us reeling in repentance for neglecting to realize that they DO need to hear those three words from time to time.

It is our failing as human beings to do what we know to do that is right even when nobody is watching us that we should fear.  It is the children and grandchildren that will learn what it is to inherit a lack of integrity as a result.

It is our non-acceptance of others regardless of how different they are from us that we should grovel in tears over, because our children and our grandchildren will learn what it is to be a bigot if we fail to realize our own stupidity with respect to this issue.

It is our unwillingness to give selflessly of ourselves to others we should show some remorse over, for our children and our grandchildren will learn what it is to be self-centered from that alone.

It is our willingness to dash one another in thought and tongue from our presence (since it is not legal to kill them) that we should weep over because if we are willing to force our wills upon someone else rather than take them as they are or banish them that teaches our children that hatred is a good thing–as well as power.

There is power in hatred.  From hatred springs every evil known to man–murder, destruction, wars and sometimes pestilence.  Anyone who disagrees should look at how there have been many advantages given to Death to do its deeds with each successive conflict in History–and we won’t even discuss periods of time when hundreds of thousands of people to millions of them were slaughtered.

Sometimes when I cry, it is because  although I know Death is a constant companion in life and to life, I have joy for it does not dominate me.   Death in and of itself is a release from the bonds of our own nature it seems.  However, if we are not concerned about the tracks we leave behind in our trail for those to follow, then we have lost all consciousness of who we are and what we should strive to become throughout our days.  Does that make sense?  If it doesn’t, then reflect on it a while.  How should we WANT to be remembered?  I know how I remember my teacher and several others that have passed before her would answer that question.

Sometimes when I cry, I remember that they gave me a torch to carry and to pass on to my grandchildren–and I will do so–regardless of what others may think.  We should never fear those we don’t answer to–but we should fear what we leave behind for our descendants to answer for in our behalf, I think.  For what we leave in our own tracks, we are accountable because it is the future generations that will always pay for our own stupidity in spades in the end.

Yes, we should follow our own drum–but we shouldn’t sentence our descendants to follow the drum others make for them. Sometimes when I cry, I fear that they will not know what to follow because they are pushed so hard to be like “everyone else” and not themselves now–or so it seems.

Deeply Reflecting…

I have pulled in the ranks and am not talking to a lot of people right now. It has gotten to a point to where I am even  re-evaluating a couple of decisions I’ve made.  It gets really old when one tries to cheer others on, and then tries to help in any way possible and then only seeing a blank space where some colors and design should be.  However I have recently found myself in situations to where I have to fake a smile or a laugh…I have also found myself in a situation to where once again I had to be the one to create distance for my own well-being.

At dawn I will be up on my mountain again to see if there is an answer awaiting me. When I feel uncertain as to the path I should take, I find my strength up there.  Once again I must seek answers and guidance.  My spirit is deeply troubled tonight, so this time I will not go up there to seek the blessings of the Universe for others as I normally do–but I will seek the answers to my questions while there.  I need to know that my energy is not being wasted for nothing.  I need to KNOW that what good I do really does go out to reach others like the ripples of a pond, and that people who benefit at the nucleus (meaning where I began to have the empathy and compassion to want to see them do well) are actually paying it forward themselves.

Believe me, Wankan Tanka has never, ever steered me in the wrong direction.  My questions will be these: Am I making a difference or not. If so, I don’t see it.   Is anything I am doing to help changing a single life for the better here?  If not, where do I need to be?  Better yet, is there something I need to change?  Hopefully when I come down, I’ll have those answers.   2012 is going to be a good year for me. I just need to figure this out for now, so I’m going back to my cave for the night.  I wonder what the Universe is going to send my way this time?   Hopefully I will gain some fresh inspiration.

OMG IT is HORRIBLE–Or Is It?

American Bandstand is gone but the memories remain! I remember when Tommy Chong trashed the set, the Red Hot Chili Peppers were on and a lot of other things spanning the 1960′s – 1980′s and a few years beyond.  However some great acts and music came out of it.  This is one:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=Yf_Lwe6p-Cg

No this isn’t the link to the episode, but this is one of the best bloody songs to come out of the 80′s.  I am redoing it–but making it fit ME since I’m female.  I lived it. I had an ex who didn’t like to keep a job–kids or no kids. I had to drop out of school to support him and the kids.  After a while, it was over.

Since that point, I’ve taken care of me and my boys and had a wonderful family who have always helped and been there for me though this whole process.  My sons have grown into 3 young men that I love very much and they understand my viewpoints.  I’ve said before that I’d love to cover “None of the Above” by Duran Duran and “Falling Angel” by Duran Duran.  These were both songs that should have been singles  in my book. This band should have already been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame…Good god! They’ve had a major hit in every decade they’ve been on the map!  The only other artist to accomplish THAT feat is Cher! Some of the nominees going in THIS YEAR cannot even boast that!  Having a major hit in each decade is the mark of a long and great career–even with the pitfalls artists go through!  They also came up with the storyline music video prior to the release of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”. Their singles this year “All You Need is Now” and “Girl Panic!” are very good!  There is not so humble opinion on that subject…

I do write songs as well, but my writing tends to be akin to the angst ridden 90′s style and I was writing that type of music when I was 15 years old–hence my trips to the principal’s office.  That is just how it is…Writing was my world then.  I have since learned to enjoy other things and take up other projects, but writing was, and always will be my first love.

From the times I wax utterly romantic (God I hope not this week!)  to the times I come across like a  b***h  spewing my utterly therapeutic vitriol, it has been a release for me on many levels.  I have used it to kill off characters I created in the images of bullies I dealt with that thought they were God, to create worlds that I wouldn’t mind living in, to reminiscing about time periods I would rather have been born in for the simple fact that I always felt  that I was born either 10 years too late or 10 years too early.  Take your pick.   Like music–and I don’t have a “heartbreak song” or anything like that, but picking up a pen and writing can transport me to a time where I am actually reminiscing about all things good and bad.

Anyone that says keeping a journal is a waste of time, I will say this: Hogwash!  Keeping that journal has given me something to reference when I need direction from time to time because there are times that I am reading back copies of it that I can almost hear the voices of my grandparents, my father, a few wise writers,  or get the gist of what people have gotten across to me in their own blogs after cross referencing to see what led to my writing.  Two Facebook pages got me to turn my life around and many of you know which ones those are.  I had to do some digging through blog posts and found gems of wisdom that I wish someone were there to share with me when I was a child.  I might have had a different perspective about some things and NOT gone into recluse mode years ago.

Now I want to share another blog with you that makes my day.  I love her humor and I love how she can make me laugh even when I feel like total crap!   She and her friend Holmes  post regularly.  Even if one doesn’t agree 100% politically, I can always find something to totally make me smile in there!  I honestly thought they were married to each other the whole bloody time! Sorry Piper!  Here is the link:

http://piperbayard.wordpress.com/2012/01/04/bayard-holmes-post-apocalyptic-management-services/

I love their wit and how they point out historical information that can be found on the stacks at any college library but are yet being pulled out of the textbooks.  Even the original copies of documentation can be found in those libraries and I know because I am such a nerd that I go and look!  I am proud to say that I’ve never found a misquote on this blog!   I am going to be posting on how what went on just prior to the Texas Revolution is taking place in this country right now and that is where the U.S. Government has made a huge mistake with its citizens–and many do agree with the assessment I reached.  However, that is for another blog post.  The similarities are alarming.

However, check out Piper’s post on The Zombie Apocalypse and such too. Those are funny…Like I said, while some may not agree with one another politically, there is no harm in being humorous and these two are definitely that!  Piper, thank you for the laughs and I do support you and Kristen Lamb in your presidential bid! ;-)  ***You guys really need to see those posts! Trust me!***  Here is also a link to Kristin Lamb’s blog and she is a total riot too!

http://warriorwriters.wordpress.com/2011/11/23/an-attitude-of-gratitude/

This post also got me to look at things a bit differently.  One thing always leads to another.  Thank you Lauren @ www.fizzgiggery.com for starting me on this journey. It’s been an interesting few years, that’s for sure!  Now that we’re in a new year, may all of you have a great one! Now back to my  “vacation”!

This is the Best Blog Post of 2011

I am going to make this short, sweet and not too wordy.  Like I said, I have circled my wagons a bit.  This writer has turned me around in more ways than one, but this time she really caused me to deeply reflect.  I love her for doing this, and she always makes me think…However there are times like now, when I kick to recluse mode and just hide in the Bat Cave.  Before I hide for a while, I just want to say that this is, by far, the best post I have read all year.

It deals with losing her grandmother and the way she shares her memories  of her totally rocks!  This is a post that is timeless! Please read it!

Please read it, and drop her a line!  She is really one cool lady!

http://www.fizgiggery.com/2011/anecdotes-observations/nanny