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Do you ever stay lost in your mind? I mean, visit a place in your mind that's so very comfortable, you want to stay there and not come back to the world. I'm not talking about being in some sort of horrid situation and retreating . I'm talking about a universe in your own mind where you control things. Playing 'God' in your head. It's probably not healthy, but I can't help it. When I was little, I would sit on the floor and rock back and forth, lost in my daydreams. Now, I sit in a rocking chair, zoning out.
I miss my Mother terribly. She passed away a couple of years ago and although she could be difficult, I can't stand the fact that she's gone. I've come to realize that there are more people I love who are dead than living. That's such an odd realization. Both of my sisters are gone now, and that hits me pretty hard. Sometimes it's just too painful to think about. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could have our loved ones back for just an hour. We could laugh and cry, perhaps even gain a little closure. I'll see them again.
It blows my mind how a warm, sunny June morning can look like a day straight out of October. Looking outside from my air conditioned living room, the light shining through the windows has a 'certain slant' that reminds me of a Fall day. Fall is my favorite season. Here in East Tennessee, Fall is perfection. So much nicer than where I grew up in Florida. There is something fundamentally wrong with putting Christmas lights on your house while you are wearing shorts. I have a definate appreciation for the change in seasons. Each leaf is a study in beauty.
What a spooky time it is for America right now. It doesn't feel like the same country anymore, does it? Watching the news nowadays can cause a breakdown. When I heard yesterday that the head of the CIA had resigned, my mouth just hung open. I wasn't expecting it out of the blue like that. Somebody's got to be the fall guy. How I long for the days of Bill Clinton. His book is going to be out soon, and I look forward to reading it. I'm about a quarter of the way through Hillary's, and I've really enjoyed it.
I don't know jack shit about stocks and bonds. Never was any good with math. My Momma, who had an eighth grade education, could figure up anything at all in her head. My Husband is the same way, and how I envy that ability. I see numbers backwards, and tend to get nervous just writing the date. I actually cheated my way through high school math which is not something I'm proud of. I just never could 'get it'. Reading was my forte', and I still love it. Ironically enough, neither my Momma nor my Husband thought/think much of reading.
Two things make me very happy in this life (other than my Husband and my Child). NASCAR and Harry Potter. That's pretty sad, isn't it. Well, where I live, loving NASCAR is, like, a law. But to be 38 years old and in love with all things 'Potter'...well, that's just odd. I can't help it. The books and movies have brought me so much joy. My obsession started in earnest shortly before my Momma passed away a couple of years ago. I can honestly say that Hogwarts is in my thoughts about eighty percent of the time. No shit.
Deep whispering baritone, threatening and lovingly fierce. Billowing black robes, and underneath, buttons. So many buttons. Locking himself up, cloaked in control. Oh, how I would love to experience his loss of control. To experience his anger and approval. Be his toy. In my mind, he utters the filthiest things and his words of love sound like taunting. He mocks with affection. He wants me to cry out, wants me to fight him. He soothes me with potions and enchantments. He breathes Latin incantations against my skin. Always he reminds me...I belong to him. I do belong to him.
Once again, I woke up with a massive headache, and I can't get it to fucking go away. I don't know if it's a menopause thing or what. Boy Howdy, menopause is just a blast. Discomfort with a capital 'D'. Misery and discomfort. The only decent thing about it is that I'm going through it quite a bit early. When a doctor tells you that if you get your tubes tied it won't bring on symptoms of menopause, he's a liar. Yeah, that's right...doctors LIE. Can you fucking believe it? I'm horrible, I quess. I don't believe anything they say.
I've been watching footage this morning of President Reagan's body being moved from California to Washington to lie in state. I'm glad that this is being treated with the respect that it deserves. People don't respect the Office of the President anymore. Hell, I think the very last of the respect for a President left while President Clinton was in office. Hopefully, President Clinton will go down in history as the great man that I believe he truly is. Whether or not you agree with a President is one thing. You should always respect the Office. It is only right.
Well, I've got one of those horrible summertime colds and it sucks in every way imaginable. Too much NyQuil can make you feel insane. I stayed parked in front of the telly for hours yesterday watching President Reagan being moved from California to Washington where he will lie in state. It was heartbreaking. Not being a Republican, I don't have alot of good to say concerning his politics, but he was a great American. He and Nancy had such a powerful love. Every American could learn a lesson from that. I'll be watching the funeral on Friday. R.I.P. President Reagan.
Watching President Reagan's funeral today, I was reminded of Princess Diana's passing. It was all of those bells ringing that reminded me of it. That was such a sorrowful day. I'll never forget it. I can close my eyes and take myself back to that time so easily. At Diana's funeral there was a song that was played which was so somber and sad. I don't know the name of it, but I'm going to try to find out what it was. I can hear it in my head, and it was perfect for the funeral of a beautiful Princess.
I have a blog. My own little blog that I write shit in. Everybody's got one, so it's nothing special. I know better than to set a schedule to write in it, because that would be a definate way for me to 'not' write in it. But I've got one. I've actually made a couple of friends through it, so it has turned out to be a positive thing. I've only given the address to one of my 'real life' friends. Can't seem to share more than that. Part of me wants to delete it. Why is that, I wonder?
I have very few...precious few...female friends. I can count them on one hand. It's a sad thing that women can't 'be there' for one another better than they are. Close friends are very much like spouses. Never perfect, yet if you love them enough, you love them for their faults as well as their assets. That's a hard thing to do, particularly in this day and age of running from one thing to another so quickly. Nothing seems to hold our attention for very long. And there sure isn't very much unconditional love going around, is there? Not much, indeed.
Too much shit to do and no time to do it. It's the story of my life. If I'm in a particularly 'bad place', then the more I have to do, the more paralyzed I become. There have been times that I've been so depressed that all I could do was sit. And stare. Praise God, life is better now. Depression is no picnic, especially when you opt for no medication. My mind pisses me off. Hell, it's MY mind, so at the very least, I should be able to control it enough that I don't freak out and panic.
I just got a wonderful e-mail from my friend Sandy. She sent the link to Micheal Moore's new movie 'Fahrenheit 9/11. It's going to be quite fantastic. Color me 'Liberal'. And if you don't like it, color me telling you to kiss my ass. I do realize that there is nothing that I can say to change the mind of a rabid Bush supporter, and I can't blame someone for having their strong beliefs, even if they differ from my own. But if you have never voted, and you've never really given it much thought, please do. Vote, vote, vote!
Today is a back and forth type of day. It started off cloudy, then got sunny, then darkly dismal like night, and now it's sunny. My neighbor came over this morning and we partied just a bit. Too early for me to be partying in my old age. I'd rather be a candy-ass than the white-trash junkie that I was before. Looking back, I wonder how I lived through it all. Almost eight years of...just...death. Death would be preferable, actually. It would be great to snap my fingers and make sure that no one ever goes through addiction.
When Momma was young, she was poor. I mean dirt fucking poor. Momma had to quit school in the eighth grade to help take care of her family. Many years later, she would voice to me how afraid she was of being poor again. I never understood her fear until my life took a nasty turn. I lived hard due to my own poor choices. And now that I've got a husband that takes wonderful care of us, I'm terrified of being poor like that again. I understand you so much better now, Momma. And I sure do miss you.
I've got this lingering cough since my last cold, and it's about to drive me insane. Probably wouldn't be so bad if I didn't smoke. How stupid is that? I hate being a slave to a cigarette, but it's one of the few things in life that I enjoy. I love a cigarette after dinner and with my morning coffee. Hell, I NEED one with my morning coffee. I NEED my morning coffee too. As time goes on, it's starting to get on my nerves more and more. The fact that I don't even want to quit is irritating.
Good neighbors and Alan Rickman. Two things that I dearly love. What do they have to do with one another, you ask? Well, my delightful neighbor, Jackie, is here and 'Die Hard' is on. It's a comfortable restful Saturday, even if it is a bit hot. Calm lazy days at home are wonderful miracles to me. They remind me of my childhood, which was almost picture perfect. It's not until I grew up that everything went all wrong. Of course, that coincides with my being horrible immature and selfish, and the poor decisions I made based on those two things.
One of my best friends has a son that has decided to join the Navy. He has no love for this administration, no particular loyalty to this President, yet he is picking this time to join. His recruiter said that he won't have to go to Iraq or Afghanistan. They believe him. Needless to say, I am beside myself with frustration concerning this. I love the military. My family has a long military history. I just don't want this beautiful young man to die for reasons that are so unclear. I love this child and I pray for his safety.
A while back I visited a BDSM forum and the following question was asked: What celebrity would you like to 'submit' to? I gave all my 'Daddy' responses...Alan Rickman, Victor Garber, Christopher Walken. My answers weren't different from most of the submissive ladies. Then one woman typed a response that blew my mind. Adam Sandler. What? Billy Madison? Little Nicky? Then this morning, I watched 'Punch Drunk Love' for the first time.He was laying on top of his 'love interest' and he said something like, "Your face is so pretty, I just wanna smash it." Adam Sandler. Good answer.
Even though I'm the Mommy of a vibrant four year old, I still have an undying affection for peace and quiet. The little sounds that other Mothers listen to non-stop make me want to scream and claw my face. Patience is something that I have to struggle so hard for. I became accustomed to quiet years ago when I was an addict. I had to have silence because I couldn't stand outside noise competing with the voices in my head. It made me feel insane to have all manners of commotion going on. My daughter deserves much more 'noisy' time.
What a delightfully lazy day it is here in Northeast Tennessee. It's rainy and quiet, just a few birdies singing away. Nice. I love it like this, although if the rainy dreariness lasts for very long it gets me depressed. I had a good morning, visiting with my neighbor/sister/friend and having sausage biscuits. In Tennessee, it's a law: Thou shalt partake of the sausage biscuit, and thou shalt like it. Sometimes thou shalt add thy sausage gravy. Thou shalt absorb carbs like a fiend, and thou shalt become huge and loathsome. Hell, I believe I've gone quite insane this morning.
God...I'm tired and uninspired. My head hurts, my joints ache and I just pretty much feel like shit. And this is a typical day. Nothing special. Average daily activities overwhelm me lately. I don't want to do a motherfucking thing. Sitting still in perfect silence would be like heaven to me. What the fuck has made me so dismally antisocial? I just feel so fucking ... blah. Just blah. Blah blah fucking blah. I need some happy, or at the very least, I should wake up to the fact that life is so much better now than ten years ago.
It would be fantastic if someone could give me a potion that would help me to sleep, dreamless and with no nasty side effects. I don't want any fucking Ambien...did I spell that right? All that I require is some good sleep and the time to do it. Time to sleep. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Sleep, glorious sleep, with no phone calls, alarm clocks, walkie talkies. No noise of any kind except the soft hum of the air conditioner and the fan. Sleep wouldn't be possible at all without those things. Gimme gimme that soft hum, drowning out the world.
I'm so grateful for my best friend. He's a gay man in his late thirties, and we've been best friends since we were in high school. He's been a friend, brother, sister, father, boyfriend, husband (almost a lover), sweet baby Jesus. Color me 'hag'. I can't imagine my life without him in it. After dealing with all manners of shit from my ex-husband and ex-boyfriend for being with him, I informed my latest husband well before our marriage that my best friend is here for good. Either deal with it or you don't need me. And it worked.
Bible Study and fried squash. Another Sunday in the South. I ain't complainin'. This is a nice restful day and the race is fixing to come on. It's all good. Hubby is working though, and I hate that. Now I've got a man that works his ass off after living with a piece of shit who made one house payment during his seven years here. And I caught hell for insisting on that. I worked three jobs, and Prince Charming sat on his ass all day and was consumed by porn at night. No wonder I was a drug addict.
I love movies. This morning, the young-un and I watched 'Freaky Friday', and now we're watching 'Edward Scissorhands'. I always cry at the end of this one. Holy shit, I'm lazy, and I so need to get over it. Perhaps yoga or some such shit would make me feel better. It just hurts to move. At almost forty years old, I'm starting to discover how to predict the weather by how my shoulders and knees feel. It certainly sucks when a snowstorm is on the way. Guess it'll be a while before I have to deal with that this year.
There is a married man that I know and lately I think he's becoming attracted to me. Not bragging here, just saying what I feel. The fact that he's attracted to me is not an issue. Sadly, what concerns me is why. He's a very nice, soft-spoken man and one would never think that he could inflict pain. But he likes me for a reason, and that's because when he looks at me, he sees a woman who welcomes masculine strength and passion. Because some little part of him wants to be a rapist. He wants to hear the screams.
Menopause is so fucked up. I'm just not ready for it, at all. Hot flashes can be nauseating, and nobody bothered to tell me that during my years on earth. Now I know, and gee it's delightful. Half the time I feel like I never EVER want to have sex again, and then the other half I feel like I could take on a whole football team. Or a mess of NASCAR drivers. Or Alan Rickman, Christopher Walken and Victor Garber all at once. Yeah. All at once. I reckon I'll just have to meditate on that for a while.
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