These are the dolls I am making for the cancer ward here. I have I think 10 done since noon.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Friday, November 29, 2013
My blog tonight concerns Black Friday, an absolutely sickening tradition that we hold dear every year. In case you live under a rock Black Friday is a mob-mentality, kill or be killed, shopping spree where in people, fight, trample each other to death and yes even draw weapons in order to get the best deal on crap they don't need only one day after saying thanks for all the crap they already have too much of.
Can't you just see the extra adoration in your loved one's eyes when you pull them near at Christmas and say softly, “Not only did I get 20% off your gift I had to literally kill someone to do it! Not only that but I had to hock it in order to pay the bail money it took to get me out of jail after I trampled old ladies and orphans!” Now this all sounds very like a joke but in reality it isn't. The people who get killed on Black Friday because super stores have super sales will never get the joy of spending another holiday with their loved ones again.
Perhaps I am getting too old but I don't see the sense in it. I personally never shop on Black Friday as I am certain that the exact same garbage being sold this time of year will still be carried in the same stores this time next year and throughout the year as well.
It all takes me back to the Harry Potter books. Every year I would get on the waiting list and reserve a copy of whatever was new for my child. It never failed but every year some idiots would fist-fight (in front of their kids) for a copy. If the store ran out but I had a copy reserved I might moan at the clerk, but that was about it. I never did get the over-whelming urge to beat the crap out of another human-being and teach my child that lynch-mob behavior over one book that would be in stock again later... especially when standing in a store filled with billions of other books.
I think whether we like it or not we lead by example. I believe that kids watch us very closely and are so talented at watching us that they can even do it while rolling their eyes! Let's act like people instead of rabid apes, shall we?
That's my side of it,
Thursday, November 28, 2013
We are going soon to buy an artificial Christmas tree that lights up by itself. I want the huge and bushy one that looks like a real tree. You know the kind.... the one you take a good four hours to assemble and then ask your family, “Dude do you think these screws were important?” You know the kind that you stuff back in the too tiny box and then stand around and debate what to do with the other 500 branches that won't fit. You know... the kind with all the instructions written in German. You know that kind? That's what I want!
I want traditional ornaments too! Comprende? Those hugely expensive and over priced ornaments and decorations that you spend another four hours of your life getting on there just right... and then the dog knocks the whole #$%^ thing over? Yes! A tree all decorated in shiny glassy ornament that you deliberately choose in Hanukkah colors simply to confuse your guests! I want that!!!!
I want a traditional Christmas... you know the kind? The kind where you have enough lights in your yard to make a runway for a lear jet? The kind where you buy Christmas lights for the roof and then realize you have to go back to the #@$% Walmart to buy a ladder? You know the kind of Christmas when you go to put up the lights and after 20 attempts and 5 spills off the wobbly Walmart ladder you realize the outside outlet didn't work? The kind where by July your lights are still up because hey... Christmas will get back here eventually! That's the kind of Christmas I want.
Plus I want about a zillion gifts for the grandbaby. You understand me? I want to fist fight other people for toys that he will out grow in 2 months. You see? Those kinds of presents... the kind you sit up all night trying to assemble only to find that it needs batteries and has a million stickers that still need to be put on? Yeah man tradition! There's nothing in the world that compares to the work you put in and the money you spend just to see the grandkids playing with the boxes! I NEED that!
I want that gorgeous feeling on Christmas morn when my kid opens her 58 presents and then utters the 3 words that change every mother's life. Those three sacred words... “Is that ALL?”
I want to wade for days through bags of discarded wrapping paper. And wonder why it ever occurred to Nanna to crochet me an orange and baby puke green bikini. I want to cook and bake for weeks on end only to have my relatives criticize every last homemade cookie and candy! I want that so much!
I also want every detail because I want a train under my tree for the kids. I want that certain one. I want that highly over-priced, last one in stock have to put it on lay-away or sell the kid in order to afford it. You know the one I'm talking about? I want the one that takes almost 3 hours to assemble. There is not one moment like the Chiristmasy moment when you find out it only runs backwards! That's a real Christmas.
And the very best part? When at the end of the night you sit quiet, engorged and you look at that tree. And you think about when you had nothing. When you were practically homeless and just starting a family together. When you lived in the slums and your first Christmas tree together looked more like a deformed version of the burning bush with very few decorations. And you remember the dollar store slices of ham that had to serve as the Christmas feast. You remember those dollar store presents that you could barely afford and how very much they meant... especially when he looked at you softly and said, “Everything's perfect.” When you finally remember that you went through all of this to celebrate the story of the struggle, and keep that fire alive in your heart because God how you love this little family. And then you softly say, “Happy Birthday God.” I really, REALLY want that!
That's my side of it,
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Thanksgiving means a lot of things to a lot of people all different but with the same theme. “I am so happy that I have (insert blessing here.) But in this I differ. I feel I can not rightly see my blessings that way. Oh sure I could sit here and name a thousand things that make me happy, but let's look at it in reverse, because most times I am thankful for the things I don't have in greater quantities, than the blessings I've acquired.
So here is a list of things I am VERY thankful that I don't have to deal with... truths and horrors that others deal with on a daily basis.
I am thankful I don't have:
6. spiritual poverty
7. regular poverty
8. abusive relationship
9. full blown addiction
10. brain tumor
11. no plumbing
14. an ill child or spouse
15. lack of education
16. living in a war-zone
17. recent death of a loved one
18. living in a police state
19. being illiterate
20. a recent natural disaster
21. lack of civil liberties
22. no freedom of worship
23. psychotic breaks
24. dying of thirst
25. spiritual death
That's just off the top of my head. There is an old song that says, “Charity is the coat you wear twice a year.” If I can extend my hand to another in need I will always feel blessed... no matter how small and trivial I may think that need is. What God gives freely I give freely.
Every day when we are bitching about our mom, our job the wrong gift or whatever... I think we should stop and think for a minute of the horrors that others face every single day of their lives. We need to be of service to one another every day. If we did that, we'd have a whole lot more to be thankful for now wouldn't we?
That's my side of it,
PS. Happy Thanksgiving!
Monday, November 25, 2013
Bibbity Bobbitty Blog
I will be blogging less often.... due to holidays. First cooking 3 straight days for Thanksgiving and then... making rag dolls I call Bibbity Bobbities. I make them every year for the children's hospitals.... and this year I think maybe for the homeless shelter too. I have tags and everything so maybe here and there I will post a pic or 2 for you to see.
Now let's talk some serious Christmas presents. I recently read this book... Quest For The Red Sapphire by Rival Gates. It is a fantasy of the most epic style! Great for teens and adults alike. I love a good dragon story myself. You can pick it up on Amazon, B&N website... for kindles probably anywhere. Or even here
For younger readers I strongly recommend:
They are fun and educational as well!
But hey don't forget to buy mine when it comes out.... www.streetlighthalo.com
That's my side of it,
Did you ever think about how everything we do effects everything else? It's true... from whether or not you put cream in your coffee to the way you drive your car. For instance, Let's say you are driving and spill your hot coffee down your lap.
You jerk and swerve as reaction, hit another car, nothing serious but the woman you hit is a teacher we'll say by way of instance. She's now in a crappy mood. She goes to school teaches all day, barking, screaming, criticizing and snapping. Her students go home in a horrid mood, giving the bus driver a hard time along the way.
The kids go home and give Mom a world of trouble, talking back, not listening, defying, testing boundaries. Dad walks in from work, ducks a flying, frying pan and when he asks mom, “What's wrong?” Her response is, “NOTHING!”
Now of course we can't over think this or we'd go crazy. But however we act any given day effects every other person in this world, and every other living thing. That is an awful lot of power! It is hard to be responsible for such power and so we tend to ignore or deny that we have it. However if you mouth off at someone because you're in a bad mood it is quite easy to see by their angry or teary reaction that this truth is around us at all times.
Ever hear the words, Garbage in; garbage out? If we walk all day concerned only with what we are doing, instead of how what we are doing effects others then we are in a word, “self-centered.” Contrary to popular belief the universe does not revolve around us. Don't believe me? Ask Galileo.
That's my side of it,
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Going on a romantic trip at some point.... a birthday present from my husband! Which brings me to a topic mentioned in my book... relationship dynamics.
I am not going to tell you how to spot a cheater. I am not going to tell you how to fix your relationship / marriage ect. I am not going to give you a Dear Abbey quick fix. I am going instead to tell you about my husband, the very face of love. I am going to reveal what it means to be my husband... sort of.
True or False... I first saw my husband across a crowded room and when the smoke cleared and our eyes met we fell passionately in love and threw each other to the ground in a fiery embrace... FALSE. I am disabled. On our very first date my husband was learning to put me on and off a bed pan.
When I first laid eyes on my husband he was:
A) driving a fancy sports car
B) pulling down a kool 60K a year
C) hanging with the popular crowd and looking awesome in his leather jacket
D) None of the above
D.... when we first met he was penniless and jobless and for the most part so was I.
True or False There is a difference between passion, sex and intimacy, love. TRUE. When people pick the partner they want to share their lives with, they don't tend to chose what will really work. We tend to decide based on looks, status, pay-roll. The truth is that beauty fades, companies downsize and status never lasts. Passion is a flame that burns very high and seems to singe the soul... but fires don't burn forever. Passion is most times just a flash in the pan (No pun intended.)
Real love that lasts will actually last in a realistic situation. You may think your partner would love you enough to take care of you when you are infirm, and you might even be 100% correct in saying that. But would you change your partner's dirty diapers?
See that's real. Real is sickness and health... and sometimes sickness lasts forever. Until you are that committed to another person you can't declare that you have found the only person on earth for you.
There is as vast a difference between love and sex as there is between a parent and a vending machine. One has nothing to do with the other and neither can one prove the existence of the other.
Contrary to popular belief, sex does not make you an adult. Sex does not make you cool. Sex does not make you popular. Sex does not make you, “in love.” The only thing that having sex makes you become is... sexually active.
That's my side of it,
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Since I write for kids in trouble and their parents I just had to put this one out there. Here is a link to a disturbing article about how peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are a racist thing to eat.
There's a link to the Tribune who first covered this issue in that link. Now this principal maintains that because sandwich bread is something that usually only Americans have that somehow to serve it in our schools somehow makes the school racist. Eating a sandwich now qualifies you as a racist? If I drink tea am I sexist? At first it seems innocent enough... people from different cultures tend to eat different things. But think about that for just 2 minutes and look at it in reverse. If I invite my Hispanic friends over and only serve them beans and rice... do they not THEN feel singled out? Are we now to assume that a starving child form Ethiopia who ate in her home only one small teaspoon of rice a day (because that's all they had) comes to this country for a better life where we are all told, the streets are filled to the sky with food... am I really supposed to give this child only one spoonful of rice because that's what she's used to? But let's don't go all fanatical on this belief yet. The kids in her school are even feeling uncomfortable with these seminars and workshops on, “Courageous Conversations” as they are called which is where the whole thing started.
Take heart though this was not just one educator's idea so let's not blame her too much. She learned this nonsense (she claims) at a workshop. So stupidity, ignorance and reverse-racism is now something that needs to be taught? And it's evil is cloaked in none other than (GASP) the horrifying form of a (this is the part where we cover small children's ears) peanut butter sandwich? This is the time in this country where in we need to call out the Jesus grilled cheese and have that crap exorcised.
It used to be in this country that we were proud just to be Americans. We were proud to be Native Americans, Hispanic Americans, Asian Americans or whatever and we were fine with that. We lived in a melting pot, things like food got changed around, mixed up whatever... but this had no relevance. Because in the end we were Americans and just that. Our parents taught us about what we needed to know about our back-home cultures and we were fine with that. We were just proud and happy to be American period.
The problems with schools will always exist I am certain. Tenure doesn't help. Promoting idiots to positions of power over teachers in order to get them away from the classrooms and helpless children they are teaching doesn't help either. I think though it is time to stop blaming students, teachers, tests, parents and yes even principals. Mostly let's stop blaming sandwiches. Let's stop blaming period and let's just get back to being a regular old melting pot. Let's be proud of who we were, who we are, who we will become together. It was Martin Luther King Jr. who said, “on the content of our character and NOT the color of our skin.” They tell me he made the best PB&J you ever tasted too!
That's my side of it,
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
As you probably know it's my birthday. So yesterday my daughter and I went shopping and I decided to buy myself something from the music aisle while at the Walmart. I'm thinking to myself, “Self, it's Walmart so more than likely this is where you'd find older music that would be considered out-of-date.” That is fine by me. I like newer music but there are some musicians that are so incredibly talented that you NEED them in your life forever.
One such musician is for me, Joan Baez. Now if you are too young to have heard of her she is only THE folk-singer of all time. Her voice golden magic is truly healing when it all just gets too stressed. I figured Walmart is the place to go for this... they've got everything right? WRONG! I saw what I believe to be one of the most terrifying travesties of all time. There was not one Joan Baez album … There was not one talented musician in the whole B section. I am sorry to be the one to break it to all of you out there who still have eardrums left and are not tone deaf as of yet. I was mortified to behold.... there before my wondering eyes.... bin after bin all filled with the same albums. At least 23 thousand slots filled only with (cringe) dare I say it?.... Justin Beiber.
Is this the apocalypse as my mother says? Is it the fourth age as pagans have feared for a while? Perhaps not. Even with war, plague, famine and all the world's other problems I don't think I'd go quite that far. There is one thing I can assure you of dear friend, it is I fear.... the death of music as we know it. But take heart Beiber's I guess are not on the endangered list.
That's my side of it,
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Birthday Beauty Tips
45 years old tomorrow.... and the real piss off is I completely believed I was going to be 44. Then my sponsor in his infinite wisdom made me do the math as he is really quite bossy (He must be an alcoholic!) so I got a calculator... and I did the math. @#$%^&! To my great chagrin I saw the number 45 and freaked. I even tried turning the calculator upside down to see if maybe it was trying to spell out a secret birthday message.... and it was. A message that said...”Angel you are OLD!.”
Then it occurred to me that just the other day my sister was telling me how young I look. People say that a lot. My beauty tips are very simple... I might share them with you here today so that you can use them. My first and greatest beauty tip is not “think young,” as most people will say. The truth of my beauty is this greatly guarded secret (unbeknownst even to me) If you don't know how to count you will never know how old you are and so you won't age.
But in the light of that last paragraph, “Think young” is a nice thought, though I tend to go straight for crazy every time. However “Finding your inner child” is a form of one of my beauty secrets.... I found mine and the little bitch was screaming so I stuffed her mouth with lots of oreos and we felt much better!
Being around children is very helpful for this. If you play by yourself at my age people tend to back slowly away from you... I know I've tried it. If however you are playing hide -and-seek with little kids people might mistake you for an excellent parent! So I have come up with a beauty secret theory if I can get my daughter to have Grandbabies... I can get discounts at Toys-R-Us. I'm hoping she has a boy at some point as they have a much better quality of toys!!!
Being comfortable in my own skin is another. Since I was taught in AA that our problems a lot of the time can be attributed to not being comfortable in our own skin, I formed an idea. Because I am an alkie and the grass is always greener... I decided I would try putting on someone else's skin just to be safe in the knowledge that my own is superior. Since I couldn't afford plastic surgery I decided maybe I could just lease some. So I looked in the phone book and tried to find out where the local zombies hold their support groups... but they weren't listed. A friend told me I might now need some serious help so I decided to call and ask Paranoid's Anonymous for a bit of help. Unfortunately they wouldn't tell me where they were meeting. So I finally decided the skin I have would just have to do. It's better that way too.. it fits without alterations and I have scared off most of the tailors in town with questions about zombies.
That's my old side of it,
Monday, November 18, 2013
Birthday in 2 days! So my silly side is back! Here's a little fun to break-up the purgatory of waiting for Thanksgiving.
1. Before placing your socks in the washing machine. Explain to each pair of socks loudly that they are both important to you and they should stick together. When your friends ask proclaim loudly, “Static Cling is highly spiritual to me!”
2. Create a petition against the way Swiss cheese is always gypping you by having holes. See how many people will join your cause.
3. Stand in a dark alley wearing a raincoat . When people walk by open the coat and show them that it is filled with those tiny hotel soaps on one side. Ask them if they want to buy. Then hit'em with the wash clothes you have stashed in the other side of the coat!
4. Get a temp job at a bank, when customers come to your window say anxiously, “Please don't make withdrawals. I can't stand the spiders crawling all over me.”
5. Go to the men's room at work. Turn on all the sinks.... then pull out an umbrella and do your best rendition of “Singing in The Rain!”
6. Build a website entirely devoted to people who hate websites.
7. Throw a barbecue for PETA.
8. Sue one of your appendages for stalking you.
9. Have your doctor write you a prescription for “an apple a day,” then go to your grocery store and try to cash it.
10. Go to Disney World and insist that the term, “Pirates of the Caribbean” is racist and stereo-typed. Insist the name be changed to “Pirates of All Cultures.” Next insist that they add a part to the ride wherein all the pirates stand in a circle and sing “Kum-bi-ya.”
That's my side of it,
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Everybody asks me to tell them of all the screwed-up shit I pulled when I was drinking.... no one ever asks what I've accomplished in sobriety. But even those who do ask the right questions always depress me at this time of year
I want secretly to walk into AA hold up my 23 year sobriety medallion and say really inspiring things to the new-comers. Things like, “After being sober a year I won a Pulitzer, after being sober two years they gave me a Nobel Peace Prize.” and then like the newcomers in the room would just be so impressed with my great list of accolades that I, omniscient as I am, would literally charm them into staying sober for life and not wrapping their car around a toddler.
TRUTH.... I have accomplished things, many things but nothing nearly that shiny and kool! (Also let me mention here that AA has tried many times and many ways to teach me that it is literally not all about me.... however I'm pretty certain that it really is all about me and they have just somehow failed to recognize it.)
I have accomplished in sobriety things that I would never have even learned had I been drinking and drugging. I have a book contract (who'da thunk?) I have taught many children history, World Cultures, reading, math. I raised a terminally ill child to adulthood (top of her class scored 10th highest in the state of Florida that year!) I have poetry archived to go into the Vietnam Museum when it is built. I've had poetry read at parades by the Master of Ceremonies. I beat cancer, survived a brutal rape, escaped a nearly fatal relationship. I taught myself to paint, learned Shamanism and got a degree in it. I earned a coup feather... I was the first in my family to earn one... now I have earned 4! I've been declared an Elder by a Medicine Man and received one of the 7 Sacred Rites. I conquered my biggest fear and rode a horse. I started my own business that almost went multimillion dollar in the first year before the economy collapsed. I have learned how to do hair and make costumes. I learned a little sewing and learned to make dolls to give to the Children's Hospitals. I am learning photography. I learned how to use a PC and blog. That's a smidgen.
The truth about the difference between full-blown addiction and sobriety is massive. When I was drinking and drugging... I could do nothing much... I could never try new things because I either wasn't sober enough to function or when I was I never tried anything more then getting the next fix to dim down that evil feeling of... I'm a piece of crap because I've never accomplished anything.
Let me say then that medicating and intoxicating will NEVER do anything to fix self-worth issues. In sobriety on the other hand I have learned to build that person I want to be, a person that was in there all along but I'd never met.
Sobriety is like when you're a very little kid and some grown-up says, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And you're like 5 but you get so excited at all the options that you blurt them all out together at once. I want to be a fireman, ninja, cowboy, president, doctor!
That little kid excitement …. that's sobriety. You can do, be, accomplish and there are no real limits.
So I've listed my accomplishments, but I left the biggest one out until the end. My biggest accomplishment in the world ever, the one I am most proud of is that for this 24 hours I have not picked up a drink or drug. For this 24 hours I was sober. Now that 24 hours might not seem like a whole lot to you.... but it has been working for me for 23 years!
That's my side of it,
Friday, November 15, 2013
Today's blog is an unedited excerpt from my book coming out next year... I want to say March but don't hold me to it as I don't yet have the rewrites. I am posting this because tomorrow I have 23 years sober and this particular story is loosely based on my experiences. No blog tomorrow I have a meeting.
My name's Joesph, but around school and everything.... let's just say.... my real friends call me Stash. That's because I always have a little something stashed somewhere in order to amplify the fun. If the flasks and bottles in my room are empty, well I always have a joint stored somewhere on my person. I enjoy drinking a lot more then pot. They say coke is great but I never tried it. It's not that I'm a prude. I'm just practical.... it's way outta my price range. Also I have this really weird fear of anything going up my nose. So yeah, there's that.
I take a lot of shit about my drinking. A LOT of shit. My grades are fine... at least fine for me. I win lots of competitions at school for art too, so I don't really see what everybody's bitching about. Apparently I have it under control. If I can drink and still win then as far as I'm concerned the world just wanted to bitch and I was in the way!
I even had a friend (well I thought she was my friend) tell me once that I have a drinking problem because I passed out in class and threw-up on a janitor. That really pissed me off! I have been drinking since I was 10. If I haven't had any issues and even my parents don't know then as far as I'm concerned the world may have a problem with my drinking but I don't have a drinking problem. If I was like a real drunk, I'd be in an alley somewhere, now wouldn't I?
So I'm on my way home from school and I am psyched! There should be a letter in the mail for me today! We're talking scholarship fund! We're talking France! We're talking Parson's in Paris! We're talking studying at the Louvre! Damn straight I am all over that!
So I take the last swallow from my mini-flask (well hidden on school grounds in the little boy's room inside the toilet tank) and I make my way home. I am walking in the door now and riffling through the mail! Here it is. Here it is! A letter from the Art Academy in France! My fingers shake as I try to open it. Guess I am nervous. I tear it open. I am shaking my head now as I read that I have been passed over for the scholarship, but I can still be enrolled if I apply by March of next year. WTF? That ain't even real.
I am severely pissed now! They owe me that damn scholarship. They OWE me. I head into my room thinking how shitty life really is, how even when you bust your ass... it just doesn't count for anything. But it's cool. I got it covered, I'll just ask my Dad to pay it.
I reach under my bed for my hidden bottle of whiskey but it's gone. Did I drink it? I don't have the greatest memory of what I do when I'm drinking. Maybe I finished it and threw it away.
It's no trouble though. I'll just find another. Rum sounds good so I go the bathroom and lock the door. I remove the toilet tank lid and shake my head. The rum's not there either. Did I finish that one too? Damn! That was expensive rum, a gift from a friend.
I open the medicine cabinet and look for the cough syrup bottle that I poured the cough syrup out of and topped with vodka. It's gone and I start to panic. Did my kid brother get into it? He's little still. If Mom gave him that it could kill him maybe. Shit!
I am shaking now and frantic. But I'll be okay. I have to think and I can't think. I'll take a little something to calm down and then I'll go check on my brother. I walk into my room and I reach for the old hip-hop boom box that my grandfather bought me for my birthday last year before he kicked the bucket. I push the cassette open and reach in... my fingers come up empty. No joint? I reach around to the back and take the whole damn thing apart. It'll be cool. I took all the guts and wires out after he gave it to me so I could hide pot in there. I am shaking my head in disbelief. I look inside and it's empty. I know I didn't smoke a whole half ounce of weed. Where the hell did it go?
My mother walks in and sees me on the floor of my room with all of the parts of the radio, the screws splied everywhere and she asks, “Looking for something?”
A chill just runs down my spine because I don't know how to explain what I am doing and I'll probably be in trouble. My grandfather who gave this radio to me was her dad and they were close. I am angry though too. Not just at her... but where's all my stuff gone? I snap, “Rude much? You know how to knock?”
She smiles and says, “Oh sweetie, this is my house. I don't have to knock. So you wanna explain what you're doing on the floor?”
'A science project...” I begin but her laugh cuts me off. I am livid when I hear her speak these words, “Oh about that. The parts of your science project that I couldn't pour down the sink... I flushed down the toilet.” My head is reeling. How did she even know? I don't know if I am saying it out loud or if it's just the look on my face but she says, “I was your age once. Why don't you come out for dinner?”
By the tone of her voice dinner is not optional tonight. I am scared how she's going to react but I am pissed off too. I mean what the hell am I supposed to do for the evening? I sit across from her and my dad and I see Johnny isn't at the table, “Where's the kid?” I ask and they tell me he's on a play date as Mom puts down my chicken and rice... fresh from the caterer's.
“Special occasion?” I ask and Mom just looks at dad. Dad takes a bite and tells me to eat up because we have a guy thing tonight. If we did I forgot. I don't remember any of his bands playing anywhere tonight so I ask nervously, “Uh what's that? A band in town?”
He puts his fork down and just looks at me, “Heard you didn't get the scholarship. That's tough luck. What are your plans after school then?”
How did he know that? I hadn't said anything. But I just nod because his brow is like a pretzel-shape and that usually means trouble. I guess mom told him. I'll just play it cool. I'll stay on topic and maybe he'll let it slide.
“I was hoping you guys would pay the tuition. I'll be accepted if...” He interrupts me, “Now why would we want to do that?” I am speechless for a moment. But I find my voice, “Whatdya mean why? You paid Jimmy's tuition. This is the Louvre....every artist's dream.”
“Well you just keep dreamin' then because if you get drunk and disorderly and thrown into jail I won't be able to get you out. So if you want to go... you can pay your own way.” my dad says, and he says it like he's ordering coffee or something. As if it's nothing! How can he be so damn casual? I am tasting rage and I jump up from the table and yell, “Art is important! So what if I'm not a damn accountant like you and Jimmy! Art is...” but he slams his hands down on the table so hard that he spills the bowl of rice.
“Young man, I don't think you realize how much trouble you're in. Do you have any idea how many bottles and drug paraphernalia your mother found in this house today? Yet you avoid that conversation easily. You're in trouble all the time did you really think we didn't notice the calls from the school or you coming in smashed every night?” he yells in my face. I have never seen him this angry, I start to argue but again I am cut off. This time by my mother, she says shaky, “Joesph do you realize that twice in the last month the cops brought you home? Or that three times this week you came in vomiting all the way to your bedroom and were too drunk to clean it up. Or even notice that you did it for that matter?” I don't know how to respond because I don't remember stuff when I'm drinking and I am shocked. I didn't think they knew. I am staring at my plate, at the mess on the table, at the floor. I am doing whatever it takes not to look at them. If I look at them... it'll be real.
My father is herding me into the car now but I am feeling really sick. I need a drink to clear my head now. I can't think straight. I am too freaked out. Before I know what is going on we are pulling up in front of a church... a Lutheran church. That's weird too, because we're Methodists.
I follow my dad into a small room beside the chapel and I sit down. Thirty or so people are milling around drinking coffee, laughing, cussing. I am really confused now and I check my back pocket for a joint. No such luck. I could head to the john if there was one, but I guess I must've smoked it during lunch break.
A bell rings and some dude who's about a thousand years old tells us all to come to order and asks someone to read, “The Promises” and it's really weird because they are all reading these papers. But they aren't talking about God. What kind of church doesn't talk about God as soon as they open? Then it hits me! I at a friggin AA meeting. I am so pissed. I get up to leave and my father grabs my shoulder and sits me down. I wiggle away and walk out but he follows me.
“I'm not going to a damn AA meeting!” I am yelling at my father in a church parking lot, “people who have a few too many do stupid things! That's normal! I don't have a problem!”
“Really?” my Dad says, “Is it normal to lose a scholarship? You know Joey, the cops brought you home last night... again. This time you had passed out in a dumpster. Do all your friends pass out in dumpsters?”
So I follow him back in. Not because I have a problem, but because my memory sucks and I can't argue where I was. I can't argue because, I basically can't remember.
I sit down and half-listen to it. I don't care what they say because they're all drunks. I look around and see all kinds of people. Some of them look rich even. One guy who looks like a doctor says something that catches my ear, “I didn't get in trouble every time I drank but every time I got in trouble there was damn sure drinking involved.” I get what he's saying. I've been there. We've all been there.
So today I'm at school after a long talk with my dad and a meeting where I learned a lot. I guess those “drunks” were just regular people just like me who had problems, but hey that's their problem. I have it all sorted out. I talked my dad into paying my tuition by promising him I'll just stay out of trouble. He's alright my dad. He is nuts though to worry so much about me when he knows that I don't have a problem. Now let's see what party favors I can find in my locker to celebrate. I reach up under the metal lip at the top of the locker and... just as I thought. A nice, fat joint!
It's not even been an hour since then, since I felt the principal's hand on my shoulder and knew I was busted.. I sit and watch my dad through the office window as he talks to the principal and when I see him walking towards me I about half-smile. My smile doesn't stay long as he informs me that I am expelled and can't graduate. I am livid. That means I won't be able to go to college and I am almost in tears, but it's what he says next that feels like the final nail in the coffin.
“In order to keep Mr. Davis from having you thrown in jail for trafficking drugs through his school, I've agreed to sign you up for rehab. I guess your friends are going to wonder where you went. That's 30 days in the next town, on a farm acres away from anything. Oh did I mention Joey that they have drug tests every three days and if you can't complete the program... well then Mr. Davis is free to press charges? Well by the look on your face I guess I didn't”
I am so pissed at that, that I can't even be pissed any more if you know what I mean. If I'd have just stopped everything like I promised my dad... I've just lost everything over partying! Son of a bitch! I am sick with anger and then it hits me. I think I my drinking is starting to become a problem.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Native Proverbs and AA
Old age is not as honorable as death; but most people want it.
Yes, it will soon be my birthday and I am feeling my age. It's not just the weather, its the birthday blues. Like the song says, “You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today, and then one day you find ten years have got behind you.” A big part of the birthday blues is looking back and seeing all that you were going to accomplish left still undone. We might start even to compare ourselves to our friends.... look what that guy accomplished. Damn I never did a thing.... but if we do that we are certain to sink deeper into an abysmal pit at a time of year that should be joyous.
In AA we learn that, “Other people's opinions of me is none of my business.” Why do we say that... because people change their opinions more than they change their underwear. It is like my daughter when she was little. She loved broccoli. She couldn't get enough of it. Then I suppose one of the other kids told her that was gross and she in her infinite wisdom decided she didn't like broccoli any more. It was baby food.
Now had the broccoli taken that opinion personally it would have been on the roof of a bank, dressed in a toga and picking people off with an AK47 while singing, “I did it my way.” If we obsess on other people's opinions we will literally get stuck in our own heads until we unravel.
Further we say in AA that, “My opinion of me is none of my business.” That is because not one of us can see ourselves objectively. If we are proud, it can turn into arrogance. If we feel poorly about ourselves it can lead to nearly suicidal thoughts.
The trick is to stay out of our heads. In AA what we say is, “Move a muscle, change a thought.” Believe me the best medicine for over-thinking any thing is to just get out there and live!
That's my side of it,
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
4 days until I have 23 years sober. Kool! Then the next week is my actual birthday! Double kool!
As you know my daughter is trying her hand at modeling and I am helping as best as I can.... most days that means I am hair-dresser, camera-man and wardrobe. Now a week or so ago, my daughter put on something a bit too tight and a bit too short. Here's the funny thing... had I been some famous camera-man at some Hollywood photo-shoot and they had instructed me to take pictures of some random girl with little cleavage exposed, I'd have probably done my job no questions asked. However this being my daughter things are a bit different. I find myself jumping up and down yelling nonsensical things like, “WRIST? Do I see wrist young lady? There will be no wrists showing in this picture! I raised you better than that!” Keep in mind my daughter is nearly 23!
What is it in us as parents that see very little wrong with much of the behavior in this world practiced by most people yet when it comes to our kids is so over-amplified that we tend to be seen as blubbering idiots? Are we trying to live vicariously through them in order to right the wrongs of our own past? Or is the fear that if they get into the same things that we did and the consequences rear their ugly heads, they simply will buckle and shatter into a zillion pieces? Is it that we want to protect them from experiencing the normal growing-pains of life, those rites of passage that turn us all into adults who can function without running back to Mommy and Daddy insisting they fix it? Perhaps it is because we have all been raised to believe that a bad person is synonomous with a pair of really crappy parents.
But I myself think it is more. I think it is our own fear jumping up to show us our reflection. If we let them get into enough trouble they might decide that we are the worst parents ever and so never speak to us again and so consequentially we will end up alone. That having been said we've all seen the old comedies about the interfering, over-bearing mother-in-law that refuses to let the couple live their own life. It maybe good for a laugh but do you really want to be known as that parent? Me either.
Truth is that it really doesn't matter in the end what precautions and warnings we put down. Kids know ways around, under, over and out of our rules. In the end each of us (our kids included) will all have to walk our own path. And even when it comes to our children we can nurture whatever opinion we want them to have of us, but in the end they will see it through their own eyes anyway. We turned out fine and they will as well, the question is really then, “What kind of parent do I want to see myself as?”
That's my side of it,
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Koolest thing EVER! Yesterday half asleep or not thinking too well, I decided on a lark to send yesterday's technology blog to Christopher Moore. In case you live in a cave and have somehow missed who that is, let me tell you that he is only THE comedic writer of our age!!! So arrogant or sleepy I sent him my blog... as soon as I hit send I worried endlessly how he would simply hate every word I wrote and email me back that I am an armature and to keep my day job. OMG! He totally didn't do that. He said my blog was and I am quoting here, “Funny stuff!” I was so honored I forgot even to thank him. Instead I called every person I have known in my entire life simply to tell them of his gracious remarks.
So today I'd like to say a heartfelt “THANKS DUDE!” to Christopher Moore! For my favorite writer to tell me I have even a speck of talent means so very much. It just goes to show you that you just never know how much you can achieve until you try. I am on cloud nine today! Try yourself to see if your gift is recognized by those that have inspired you, because even though I have never really inspired anyone I'd bet my eye-teeth that that person would love to know that what they slaved over touched you!
That's my side of it,
Saturday, November 9, 2013
A World On Technology...
The typo in my title is purposely done. I have a huge bone to pick with the auto-correct on my PC. I try writing things to my editor, striking moving stories... about let's say a girl trying marijuana for the first time. My auto-check has no reading or reasoning capability what-so-ever and as a result my sentences in my story ends up with words that are substituted with the auto-check's best guest. Now my sentence turns into something like, “So I smoked a jaguar and herded off to school.” Further, knowing full-well that I do my best proof-reading after I send an e-mail I am quite convinced my editor thinks that I am the kind of idiot so severely damaged that I spend all of my free time sitting in the corner drooling on myself and poking myself in the eye repeatedly.
Another thing I wish to address is the fact that my wi-fi box only seems to have a melt-down when I am in the middle of an important discussion or a hugely owed apology.... leaving potentially life-long friends thinking, “Dude! She's not only a snob, she's creepy. Last week she invited me to go out for a cup of coffins.”
Technology for all of the luxury it affords becomes a problem for me and has my whole life. I recall my Pappaw fussing at me many years ago with, “When I was your age we had to walk across the room to change the channel.” Okay that being said I spend most of the time I could use being productive walking from one end of my house to the other randomly trashing and frantically pulling off couch cushions looking for the remotes.
Now we come to the microwave oven, something that in my daily life I usually can't live without. But of course on nights when I throw a huge dinner party it doesn't fully heat things. Admittedly it has never heated things evenly. But to pull out an important side dish that is singed to the point of being nuclear waste on the edges yet frozen in the middle just tends to spoil my party-girl rep! I am epically proud also when my guest are leaving and the “fare-well receiving line” compliments me with things such as, “Wow Angel everything was great! I especially liked the french-cut green bean popsicles!”
A very useful thing these days is the gated community gate opener. What those are are controllers for those little wooden rail-road crossing gate thingys that drop down preventing you from entering a neighborhood until you've either pressed the big, red button on your gate-controller or punched your gate-code into some digital system thus lifting the gate and letting you through. I can see how this is useful in many ways. Some criminal evading police in a high-speed chase will have to mind his manners and rather then crash through a colorful piece of wood stop to punch in a secret code! The most utilized tools it provides is that when your remote battery dies the people stuck in traffic behind you get the golden opportunity to practice their road-rage skills and figure out what their horn sounds like. If you have an overly complicated code that is too long to remember, that just amplifies the fun! This leaves you with the lovely choice of picking up an old plastic phone and randomly dialing neighbor after neighbor to ask them to let you in... and each will remind you what crystal punch bowl, designer dress or lawn-mower you forgot to return the week before. So yes, incredibly helpful!!! Thanks gate-controller! Now I can run from the lynch mob behind me resting comfortably in the knowledge that I forgot to send the check to the office for my rent before I died!
That's my side of it,
Thursday, November 7, 2013
EXCITING NEWS! I have signed a contract for my book Snapshots From Home. I'm not ready to put out info on the publishing house... but I will closer to publication. Like they say in the old Transylvainian-based flash-pan movies... 'Ve are vomen of mystery Yes?” lol
My birthday is coming! My incredible husband bought me this awesome gown... does this guy ROCK or what? (I am at the bottom, not bad for an old woman?)lol
In other life news... my daughter is working at becoming a Goth model and I am going to post he Comp and a few shots for you now and again as I am taking the pics and am hoping to get really good at photography. Okay? But give me feed back. This blog is as much yours as it is mine because you are the reader. Let me know what you think always! Here are those shots!
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
I am in a silly mood again.... because a sick friend is feeling better. Her name is Jennifer and she is a fellow blogger, catch her blog at..... www.jennaspapermoon.blogspot.com
I however am still a little sick, so this one will be short.
Things I don't get:
1. My doctor says that if I want to stop catching colds I should disinfect my house. But my dog licks it's butt and never coughs!
2. When I was a kid my dentist handed out lollipops. You don't think he had an ulterior motive do you?
3. Is hide-n-seek a course in Ninja Training School?
4. Just because I walk my chia pet and talk to my socks reminding them that they are a team, people say I'm weird. What's with all the labels?
5. If you send a writing spider too many rejection slips does he commit insecticide?
6. Why is the government trying so hard to find natural gas when I've got so much of it?
7. If you cross a jitterbug and a lady bug with one of those listening devices called a bug.... does it cause the CIA to dress in drag and dance?
8. If a cross between a spoon and fork is called a spork then what would you call a cross between a trench and a pit?
9. Is it wrong to send your proctologist flowers after an exam?
10. Isn't the correct name for a bird feeder really “Squirrel attractor?”
That's my side of it,
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Huffing, sniffing, dusting and bagging
A friend of mine called today and told me of a concern her neighbor had with her daughter... apparently the girl is huffing. She can't seem to get help and I informed my friend sadly that there is no non-medical detox. Just like with heroine addicts that require methadone in order to stop or they will die, huffing detoxes need to be watched by a qualified treatment center or medical doctor, or so I am told.
Now for those of us (like me) who are rather uneducated on the topic I will list a couple of definitions:
Huffing – when a chemically soaked rag is held to the face or stuffed in the mouth and substance is inhaled (usually gasoline)
sniffing – inhalant drug that can be done directly from containers, clothing, plastic bags or rags saturated with the substance or even from the product directly
bagging- putting spray paint in a bag and putting it over one's head
dusting - inhaling “computer duster” to get high. (Contrary to popular belief this is NOT air in a can)
Inhaling substances for a high has a lot of danger to it. Did you know it can cause cancer and leukemia? Have you ever heard of “Sudden Sniffing Death Syndrome”? That is when the heart beat becomes erratic and rapid causing the user to go into cardiac arrest. That can happen the very first time you use an inhalant drug.
Just like alcoholism inhalant addiction is just that... an addiction. And just like with alcoholism an addict will go to any length to get their fix. Some will even spray the inhalant onto their clothes or soak clothing in the substance to be sniffed so they can carry their drug of choice for use later. Unlike alcohol this sufferers high will only last a few minutes, forcing the addict to keep huffing, sniffing or whatever to prolong their high.
As a parent myself I have to say here I would be stumped and without a clue if I had not done research on this topic for a friend. Today's drug paraphernalia is not the simple bong of yester-year. Today's parents have to look for soda cans, rags, clothing, plastic bags, paper bags... and the list goes on. It's quite frightening and over-whelming just reading the info and so I can certainly sympathize for that parent and of course the addict.
My advice to this woman would be... get her to an ER quickly and have her Baker-acted if you have to. This stuff is too scary to screw around with. Even as an addict myself I wouldn't want a high that kills you the first time. The attraction to that is way above my head. But then more then likely it is the exact same mind-set that we alkies have. Our friends died in car wrecks but it could NEVER happen to me... right? Know what? It does. Statistically 15% of suffocation deaths in the US are linked to inhalants... what makes that statistic even more tragic is that most inhalant abuse deaths are attributed to other causes and therefore remain unreported and hidden. Scary stuff!
That's my side of it,
Friday, November 1, 2013
Welcome to November!!!! I have this month 23 years... 23 YEARS I said.... clean and sober!!!!! I'm soooooo excited. I also have my birthday coming up on the 20th. So I will be totally nutty all month!!!!
So I am making up my birthday list for anyone looking to know my preferences! I want the following:
1. I want a bottle of those stress reliever pills... I forget what you call them. Oh yeah..... Screwitol.
2. I would like 2 of the large spray cans of Idiot Repellent.
3. I look much better with a smile so for my cosmetic needs I would like a bottle of Politician Remover please.
4. I'd like to ask please it's very important if you're the one that got me nothing last year... I'd like another so I could have a matching set. (we'll just call them Ninja Bookends in the future, shall we?)
5. I also want (a bit expensive) one of those laser tele-marketer removal systems.
6. I don't know if anyone can afford it but on my house I want an alarm system installed.... not the kind for burglars though. I want the one that goes off when religious fanatics knock on my door.
7. I want that specialty shampoo... that kind that gets bill collectors out of my hair.
8. I would also ask that anyone who loves a good cause please donate in my name to the foundation working to cure the very painful to watch Obnoxious Assholeitis Syndrome.
9. I want a book of those grocery store coupons, that are redeemable for erasing the person in the cash only line waiting to write a check, and also the kind for that guy who counts his 20 items by 10s.
10. I would like a pair of those pants that have the bottom sprayed with dog-sniff repellent.
11. I want one of those little catapults... you know those mini ones that launch tomatoes at bad comedians... like myself.... because they haven't unionized yet.... plus they won't teach me the secret handshake.
12. If you are thinking of getting me a male-stripper.... remember they are easier to gift-wrap if you club them repeatedly first.
13. I need a new remote for my TV... one of those that zaps the infomercial guy repeatedly when you press the button.
14. I want a self-cleaning kitchen.
15. I want a big time record company to sign the voices in my head for tour dates... so if you can help with that... much appreciated!
That's my side of it,