As far as I know I'm not pregnant. I really don't know how I would handle that right now. There's so much emotional instability within me...I'm simply not committed enough to become a mother at this time.

My friends are in for New Years. We played games all evening and exchanged gifts. It's nice to see Chris, Shawn, Ken, and Leslie again. I only wish that Pat could have made it. :( Perhaps we will see him sometime this summer? I hope so. :)

Thoughts right now....I'm not really feeling up to entering grad school this semester. I'm still emotionally drained from all of the shit Ben and I have been through. I wonder how long it takes for such an exhaustion to heal? Hopefully not long. I suppose my loans will have to be in forebearance until I'm able to start paying something on them or until I go back to school. Ben's not having a job right now makes my financial situation very stressful and very ify. (If that's even a word.) But that's probably not something I should post on here because he'll get pissed at me. I'll probably get a talking to about posting as much as I have.

I just need him to be my equal in all matters. Nothing more, nothing less. But I feel that I've been getting less for a long time and I'm tired of picking up the slack. I'm so fucking tired. He hates it when I use the word fuck.

I suppose it's just the alcohol talking....4 beer type beverages and two glasses of wine later.... :) Or maybe I really am hurting and I want him to understand.

There's nothing quite like waking up in the morning and praying to the porcelin goddess. Yes friends, as faithful and devoted as I am, I was down on my knees at 3:30 this morning paying homage to the goddess. I left her an offering. :)

You know, it's not really the act of vomiting that is so horrible really. It's the anticipation of it that's so maddening! The sickness, the hot flashes and chills, the unwillingness to have your stomach's contents come rushing back out...that's the bad part.

I don't know what the hell is wrong with me! I'm still nauseous!

The girls at work kept teasing me about the possibility of pregnancy. This thought terrifies me. Ben and I are not in the position at this time to be parents. One of the girls that I work with, Kristina, and her husband have been trying to have a child for the past 5 years and have continuously met with failure. She got excited at the thought that I might be pregnant and then asked if she could have it if I was. :)

As silly as her suggestion was, it started me thinking. I know I'm not ready to be a mother at this point in time. I could not provide a stable and secure home environment and I do not want to bring a child into my world...yet. But if I did become preganant at this time adoption would be something that I would consider. There are thousands of good people out there who just want a child to love and who have been unlucky enough to be unable to conceive.

I realized from Kristina's response to my situation that her life would be complete if she were able to adopt or give birth to a child. But how hard would it be to give up the child once it is born and you've seen the little life that you've created?

Well...I'm going to bed. Hopefully this is just some funky virus or something.

If you used protection could you get some for my heart?
Now it's raging and bleeding and tearing apart.

Well, friends, it's that time of year again. Yup, that time. Christmas time. When people (supposedly) put aside ther differences and wish for peace on earth. I really wonder if they all realize what they're wishing for. Because it's obvious to me that peace will only occur on this planet when all life has been destroyed. Happy Frickin' Christmas! :)

Eeek, but isn't that depressing? Let's see if I can turn my frown upside down. Or at least sideways.

I am excited that my friends will all be converging here just after Christmas! Ben and I have been cleaning and reorganizing rooms in anticipation of our guests arrival. Today I'm washing up all the blankets and such. Is it a little crazy to wash ALL of the blankets? Maybe. But there are some that have been sitting in the hall closet for a year...and they collected a wee bit of dust. You can't give company dusty blankets!!! Now I will give them blankets that smell like Rain Clean Tide. :)

More later. I must cook meat to feed the sentient creature that my stomach is becoming from swallowing too much sperm. It's actually started growling at me! How cute! :) Is mommy's little freak of nature hungry?

I was reading an old post on True Porn Clerk stories in which the author mentions how some porno films are parodies of mainstream films. David Cop-a-Feel is an example of one of these fine skin flicks. :)

Anyway, I started thinking that porn makers really should start making pornographic movie parodies of computer and video games. Think about it: a large percentage of people who play video and computer games tend to be physically unattractive people and, therefore, people who are most likely not having sex on a regular basis. Those people who are not having sex regularly tend to be fans of pornography. If the porn indstry cashes in on this market they could pull in millions more than they already do now!

What avid EverQuest player would pass up the opportunity to watch a porn called EverQuim in which a high elven princess is saved from an orc and then wildly fucked? What fan of Dark Age of Camelot would pass up the chance to watch Dark Age of Cumalot?

Well...it was just a thought. :)

It's been a crazy weekend.

I worked yesterday, drove down to Huntington with Ben to pay his tuition, and then drove my mother back to Beckley. It was 9 PM when we arrived at my parent's home and I was thouroughly exhausted. I was asleep last night before my head ever hit the pillow, I think.

I woke this morning to the sound of my mother vomiting in the bathroom. I jumped out of bed, startled awake, and ran to her aid. The poor thing had finally caught the stomach virus that little Megan had. Wayne and Cheryl have already had it. And now Mom. So only Dad and I are left to be knocked on our asses. We'll see.
I'll let you all know if I'm up in the middle of the night puking my guts out. I'll even inform you of the consistency and color. :) You'd like that, wouldn't you? :) (sick bastards)

And my brother took Megan back to the hospital this morning. He said that her stomach swelled to the point of actually forming stretch marks on the little belly. :( The doctors found that she had a pocket of gas blocking her intestines. They gave her enimas and that seems to have taken care of things. I stopped by my brother's home to check on her this evening and he excitedly informed me that she shit on her own. :) Yay! Isn't it amazing how you can get excited about even the littlest thing when it comes to the health of one you love? :) But she should be fine now. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

When Munchkin was in the hospital the first time, her little lips got so terribly cracked and dry. Aunt Chris noticed and decided to put some lip gloss on them. The lip gloss was, of course, Bonne Bell flavored lip gloss. Anyway, now she has a taste for it. She ended up eating a little bit of the tube that I left with her and her parents. Now whenever she sees me she grabs my hand and starts pointing at her lips, wanting me to giver her more lip gloss. :) What a beautiful little creature she is.

A sad note to my weekend: I learned that my second cousin, Rex Farmer, Jr., was killed in a car wreck the night before last. I went to high school with him. He was a quiet boy, but very witty and intelligent when he actually opened his mouth. I didn't know him very well being my second cousin and all...and our families didn't associate all that much. But his death still saddens me. He was only 22 and he had gotten married only a month before. So young and his life still full of possibility. It's just a reminded that any of us could go at any moment. Life is too short and too precious for us to waste. Life is too short and too precious for us to leave things unsaid.

I love all of you very much. If I die tomorrow, at least you will all know how I feel about you. :)

And if I find you, will you still remember playing at trains,
Or does this little blue ball just fade away?
Over Silbury hill and through the solar field.
You know that I will follow you.
I'm aware what the rules are, but you know that I will run.
You know that I will follow you.

~ Tori Amos from 1000 Oceans on the To Venus and Back CD

Apparently my niece is doing much better. According to my father, she was running around naked last night after her bath, as she likes to do, and she discovered how to moon people. So she ran around to everyone showing them her tiny bottom and giggling madly.

Yes, friends, here is proof that she is of my bloodline. :)

I’m missing you
And what it was
A deadly force mowing us over
We never even had time to close our eyes

Bats flying now
With their high cries
A streaming out of their darkness
Hunting for something alive on which to feed

I wait for you
And what is not
Rooms that need to crumble into dust
Feeding the earth one more time with mournful lies

Rain falling now
With her soft sighs
A flooding out of the heavens
Drowning on every word or caress or seed

I’m losing you
And what can be
A shade once already devoured
Fading yet harming all that can see inside

Breath failing now
With only a sigh
A burning out of life’s passion
Decaying as I sit here waiting for peace

Just a quick update....

My little Munchkin was released from the hospital this evening. :) She's gonna be oooo'tay! Hurray!!!

My niece is in the hospital. :(

She had a stomach flu last week and spent a couple of days vomiting and dry heaving. She recovered from that, but still wasn't quite herself. She simply didn't want to drink anything at all and she became dehydrated. And now she has some sort of intestinal blockage...

I went up to the hospital to visit with her and Wayne and Cheryl this evening. Poor little Megan has an IV in her little right arm. The nurses had to wrap it up with gauze and a styrafoam board to keep her from ripping it out.

They had to catheterize her last night...Wayne had to hold her down. :( The ER staff also took blood via finger prick. Sounds less nasty than using a needle, right? Not for a 15 month old baby. The pricked her finger and keep squeezing blood out until they had two full tubes. She kept squirming and screaming so her blood got everywhere.

But she was doing much better this evening. Actually, playing a bit. I even got her to giggle at me a couple of times. :)

As I was driving home, I my mind kept wandering to the possibility that she could become very ill and die. I...I want her to know the beauty of life. I want her to be okay. And I don't want to lose this special little life that the Creator brought into mine.

But she'll be fine...she's got quite a forceful personality, that one...but I would really appreciate it if anyone who cares would send out a prayer or a wish of health for my little girl. Thank you!:)

~ a worried aunt

I'm grasping for anything tonight, as alone as I am
and hungering for a communion that's not to be had
at least not by me

snow is spread over the earth outside my door
like a blanket made to keep the cold in
and it's working

my little heater near the desk glows with a faint orange light
hoping to burn down the house, the trees, and the snow
if I would only let her

I am reminded of a winter not too long ago
when I was l lying naked in bed, wishing for another's skin
to keep away the chill

but there was no other flesh, no other skin
there was only cotton and wool and a space
where your body should have been

I have a sneaking suspicion that my job is going to turn me into a much harder person in some ways.

I have always considered myself to be a compassionate person. I want to shelter and aid those who are having a hard time in life because I know what it's like to feel that there's no farther down you can go. Or I thought I knew what it was like to be there anyway. I've come to realize that the lows of my life were much easier to bear than the lows of a typical patient's life. (Hmmm...but I shouldn't belittle my own lows because it was my perception that I was at the bottom, so that was reality for me.) At any rate, I have been overful with compassion for each and every person that came across my path at work. I have been willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

And now I guess I'm getting jaded, but with reason. One individual tried to take advantage of my compassion and openmindedness and several have disappointed me. :) I'm a newbie. Bushy tailed, bright-eyed, and hoping to save each and every person that crosses her path. Hoping to make a difference. In this short time that I've officially been a counselor, I've discovered that if I hope too hard I'm going to get hurt...I'm going to be frequently disappointed.

Most of the other counselors are a bit withdrawn. They care, but they don't care too much. But sometimes it seems to me that they don't care enough! :) Many of them have not developed a rapport with their patients and it seems that they don't really intend to even try. Some are only concerned that the proper paperwork is filled out and filed... fuck actually asking, "How are you doing?" and actually caring to listen to the reply.

The counselor that I inheirited most of my charts from seems to have been one of these cold souls. When reviewing absences with a patient today, I discovered that she had just written "pt. was not in attendance due to lack of transportation" after several absences and had never actually asked the patient why he had missed. To some this may seem like no big deal. So she fudged a few things in the chart...what's the problem? The problem in this case is that whenever a patient misses a day of treatment, they are more likely to relapse into drug use than those who attend every day. If a patient is allowed to be absent and no one cares to ask why they were gone, where they were, or what they were doing, the patient will feel that no one is really concerned about them and/or they will feel that they are able to be absent with no consequences. I found myself worridly wondering how much more of the information in the progress notes was fudged to cover the former counselor's ass?

No matter. The real issue at hand here is this: Do I continue to care as much as I have been and do I continue to be as open and trusting? Yeah...I guess I have to be ...because I'd be really disappointed with myself if I behaved otherwise. And that's more hurtful than any disappointment my patients fling at me. I don't want to become cynical, judgemental, and harsh-minded with these people. It's my job to be supportive, caring, yet athoritative when necessary. And I'll do my job to the best of my abilities.

"So then I thought I'd make some plans,
But Fire thought she'd really rather be Water instead."

Cooling ~ Tori Amos

All the fear has left me now
I'm not frightened anymore

It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh
It's my mouth that pushes out this breath

And if I shed a tear I won't cage it
I won't fear love

And if I feel a rage I won't deny it
I won't fear love

Fumbling toward Ecstacy ~ Sarah McLachlan

I hope everyone had a fun and filling Thanksgiving with people that they love. I did. :)

My friends are in to visit their families and such and Ben and I have had the pleasure of their company since yesterday evening. I had to work this morning so I wasn't able to spend much time with them last night, as I had to go to bed at 9:00pm. But we all went to see the Bond flick Die Another Day today. It was a pretty groovy movie. The plot was fairly predictable and the script was lacking in areas, but the gadgets and special effects made it a fun movie. Yeah...the dialogue was really, really cheesy at times...but hey, it's a Bond flick...what can you expect? It was fun though.

Everyone sort of split up to do different things after the film but they should be rolling back here any time now. Poor Ben has had horrible sinus congestion, so we stopped at Rite Aid to buy some medicine. I forced him to breathe Vick's Vapor Rub melted in boiling, steaming water with a towel over his head. His sinuses cleared right up! Amazing! I was actually right about something! :) (better whip out the record books)

Of course, since we were in Rite Aid we had to pick up a little gift for our boys: a nice bottle of Bacardi rum. I still have half a bottle of vodka left and a bottle of wine that Ken brought to me. So yeah...I think we'll be good to go! :)

Euchre and alcohol with friends. What could be more fun? Well...okay...sex can be more fun...and rollercoasters...and trippy dreams. Oh well, it'll do in a pinch.

"I can feel it's on your mind
Kristina falls down to the floor
She is fine and it's alright
She says to me
I'm drowned and drunk in you
No one had ever looked at me like you
Before you did"

Kristina by Howie Day

I am screwed. Royally screwed.

One of my fellow counselors quit suddenly today. Her caseload was divided among the counselors and, of course, the counselor with the least number of patients was gifted with the majority of her patients. Yup. That would be me. My caseload jumped from 16 to 50 in one bloody, fucking day!

So I'm stressed.

But I will not panic. I will remain calm and take everything one step at a time....
I will not panic...I will remain calm and take everything one step at a time....
I will not panic...I will remain calm and take everything one step at a time....
I will not panic...I will remain calm and take everything one step at a time....

On a side note, I packed pee today. Never did I think, as a young girl, that I would one day be packing people's urine specimens for air mailing to a laboratory. :) And I learned that urine comes in all variety of colors. Clear, yellow, orange, and even red! Amazing, isn't it?

"If you're pissing red, you probably need to see your doctor." ~ Patrick, a fellow counselor

Man, I'm tired. (wow! I've never posted that statement before! **oodles of sarcasm***)
I've had a busy weekend. Usually after a weekend such as this, I feel that I've had no time to rest and so I bitch and complain. and whine about being so damn tired. :) But this is different. This evening my soul feels sated and content. :)

I got a restful sleep on friday night, waking up saturday at 7:30am. The funny thing is that I was totally rested...I had actually slept in for 4 fucking hours! (Creepy.)

Anyway, Ben and I drove to Colombus to visit with Shawn, Ken, and Old Lady Berry on saturday. The boys played cards and threw back some shots of jim beam. I napped and ate because I was feeling shitty from this goddamned cold that just won't go away!!!! Actually, we didn't just drive up only to visit with our beloved friends. We went up for the Tori Amos concert baby!!! Woooohooooo!!!

The concert was on Saturday night at the Palace Theatre in downtown Colombus, Ohio. What a beautiful venue it was! The ceilings and walls were painted white and accented with an intricate pink and gold Renaissance style pattern. I couldn't say what color the carpet on the floor was, ( never saw it because of the throngs of people walking on it) but the drapes and curtains about the theatre lobby were all bright red velvet. Crystal chandeliers were in evidence everywhere. Honestly, I don't think there was a light fixture in that place that wasn't crystal. An elegant stairway, complete with shining bronze railings, plunged down into the midst of the lobby. This led up to the balcony seating, but Ben and I walked on past it to the main floor seating entrance. Our seat was 19 row back and to the right of the stage (or stage left). Though decorated in a very decadent manner, the theatre was a very comfortable, intimate setting. A perfect and magical place to enjoy the beautiful music we would hear that evening. :)

Tori's opener was a young male artist called Howie Day. Usually openers are okay or they pretty much suck. (Like P.J. Harvey who opened for U2 or Powerman 3000 who opened for KISS) But this guy blew me away! I was stunned by his ability. By his voice! By the music he was playing! By the lyrics! (or what I could make out at the time anyway) His voice was...haunting...mornful...pained...lustful...empassioned...worshipful...pleading...soulful...everything! Even Ben was as taken as I with this man's ability. Honestly, he was a tough act for Ms. Amos to follow...and that's coming from one of her most devoted satellites. :) He actually got a standing ovation at the end of his set. :)

What made his performance even more exciting (aside from his considerable abilities) was the fact that he was playing accompaniment to himself. How, you ask? Well, he was up on stage with his guitar, his voice, and some pedals hooked up to a sound and recording/playback system. He would mix his songs and do his own accompanying parts (if the song required them) right there on stage before us. For one particular piece he played the rhythm part on his guitar and recorded that. Then he set that to playing in a loop. Next he recorded himself tapping on his guitar to establish the beat. And then he set that to playing in a loop. Next he sang backing vocals and recorded that and then played it in a loop. Then with the guitar tapping, the rhythm guitar, and the backing vocal all playing, he played and sang the lead parts on his guitar. It was absolutely amazing! He was an actual one man band...and a fucking awesome one!

I downloaded most of his songs today. For some, the recorded version is not as powerful or moving as the live performance. If any of you are curious to check him out, try to get some of the live performance stuff. It's groovalicious!!! I really dig the songs Madrigals, She Says, Ghost, and Morning After. So make sure that you check out Howie Day today!!!!

And now for Tori. :) Howie left the stage and there was a short intermission. About 10 minutes later, the lights dimmed and the theatre was filled with Tori's beautiful haunting voice singing:

In our hand an old, old, old thread,
Trail of Blood and Amens,
Greed is the gift for the sons of the sons,
Hear this prayer of the Wampum,
This is the tie that will bind us.

The curtain lifted and the (approximately) 5'5" firey-headed sprite came hopping out on stage waving and smiling to the audience. She was dressed in a long white/silver silk medieval type dress with her long bright red hair spilling beautifully down her back. She hopped over to the piano and sat down (legs spread provocatively, of course) and immediately started playing. (Keep in mind that she was wearing a very long dress, so no leg or skin was to be seen, even though she sat with legs spread very wide.) There wasn't much conversing with the audience, but she did smile, make eye contact, and sort of flirted with the audience as she sang and played :) And god did she sing and play! She sang and she played and she sang and she played and she sang and she played. I think she was on stage for about 2 hours and 30 minutes and played a total of 20 songs. A very good show. :) When the music was angry and dark, the stage was bathed in an angry red or orange light, setting her hair ablaze. She would sit on the edge of her piano stool and bang away at the piano, singing breathily into the microphone. Sometimes she'd get so into the music she'd start hopping up and down on the seat, giving her the appearance of humping the piano stool. (Ben was convinced that she had a dildo strapped to the bench.) During a mellow tune the stage was filled with a purple or blue or soft pink lighting and her soft, haunting voice...at moments little more than a whisper...permeated evreyone and everything within the Palace. The images of a volcano and a nature goddess would appear alternatingly on the backdrop.

Accompanying her piano playing was her bassist, Jon Evans, and her drummer, Matt Chamberlin. In the middle of the show, Tori has something that she used to call "quiet time". This tour I suppose she's calling it the "Roadside Cafe" as a large sign bearing those words was lowered down just to the right of her massive black Bosendorfer piano when her bassist and drummer took their break in the middle of the show. :) And so she played some of her slow, beautiful, whimsical pieces during that segment. Bur fear not! The men later returned to the stage and they proceeded to rock the house down! :) Tori came back for two encores and on the whole it was a very good show. :)

I do feel, however, that I no longer need to see Tori Amos live, unless I get front row tickets. That would be well worth the cost and the show would be such an exciting experience. Maybe I'm just getting old? Not able to groove and boggie like I used to? Probably.

For those who are interested, here's the list of what she played: (not necessarily in this order)

A Sorta Fairytale
Little Earthquakes
Pancake
Space Dog
Black Dove
Spring Haze
Never Seen Blue
China
Twinkle
Taxi Ride
Cornflake Girl
Amber Waves
Honey
Sugar
Precious Things
Wednesday
Take To The Sky
Horses
Your Cloud
Tear In Your Hand

Ben is now convinced that Tori Amos is a manatee killer and, therefore, the most notorious musical artist alive today. His opinion was based on a mistaken lyric. You see, part of the lyric to one of her songs Twinkle goes like this:

And last time I knew, she worked at an abbey in Iona, and,
She said, "I killed a man, T. I've gotta stay hidden in this abbey."

I've showed him this says "man, T." rather than "manatee" but nothing I say will change his mind. :) Next I'm sure he'll have her clubbing baby seals. :)

Anyway, the rest of the weekend after Tori was as follows:

hung out a bit with Shawn and Ken and exchanged insults with said friends
ate at Waffle House (at Ben's urgance)
clocked old lady in the chin at Waffle House as I was putting on my jacket
became embarassed and apologized repeatedly
drove back home
went to an early Thanksgiving dinner at Ben's brother's house
wrestled children and told them I was going to make their heads explode with the Harry Potter wand I found if they didn't behave themselves
came home and downloaded Howie Day stuff
did laundry
blogged this
took a piss
swallowed my anti-baby pill
went to bed

what could be so wonderful about this
what could be so wonderful
the half light wakes you up the morning after
fall down with me and roll around now

~ Howie Day from Morning After

Today was my first real day of being a counselor.

Thirteen people were assigned to my care today, some of them new to the program, and some of them old-timers. Tomorrow I should receive about 15 more.
It's my responsibility to review each chart, make note of what needs to be done, and correct any errors in the chart all within the first week. To give you an idea of how
long it takes to review charts, I got three done today. :( Anyway, after the charts are reviewed, then I need to make a plan for how I'm going to get done all that needs to be done.

It would be great if I were given a bit of time to get organized before the flood gates opened, but oh no...it's just not that easy. I was unable to work the entire time on my charts because I had patients come to see me today. I had a total of four today and I talked to them all for about 20 or 30 minutes each.

But I must note that I really enjoyed meeting with the people and hearing their stories. I made an instant connection with one. He/she told me all about his/her brother's suicide 8 months earlier...and told me that incident was what had prompted him/her to clean up his/her life. I mentioned this to his/her previous counselor and he couldn't believe what he was hearing. I got something out of this person that his/her old counselor couldn't in 6 months of dealing with him/her.

I know that I will love this job if I can just get my charts caught up and organized. Once I get my system down, it'll be awesome. But until then, it's gonna be alot of
stress and hell. :)

My new job is the ocean blue. I am a boat. I just pray that I don't look over the railings one day and discover the word "Titantic" written across the side.

I just wanted to note that vodka chased with pink grapefruit juice is interesting. And vodka clears your sinuses. My nose is actually running. Wow. Who says that alcohol is a bad thing? (wait a minute...didn't I just write a song about alcohol addiction?) Ah fuck it!

Hey-dee-dee-dee-di-di-di-di-di-di. Penis, penis, vagina, vagina. And the magical number is 57!!!!!! MMMwwwwhahahahhaha!!!!

I took my GRE this past Monday. My scores for the Quantitative and Verbal portions fell slightly above the mean scores of other psychologist wanna-bes. I won't get my Analytical Writing section back for another week or so. Basically, the test told me that I'm pretty average...but average is better than below average. :)

As most of you already know, I was having trouble getting my sleep schedule regulated so I bought a "sleeping aid" this past week. The sleeping aid was none other than a bottle of vodka. I took four shots on Tuesday (?) night and slept like a baby. Four shots was maybe overkill because I was compelled to call all of my friends that I hadn't talked to in a while. (I'm sorry for interrupting Buffy, Pat! I know what she means to you.)

Tonight I feel that I may need to call upon the sleeping aid again. My schedule got all screwed up this weekend because I slept in until 9am! lol :) How ridiculous is this situation? I will officially be a substance abuse counselor by this weeks end, and I'm depending on alcohol to help me sleep. And if I purchase a real sleeping aid like Nytol...well is that any better? It's still a drug. Hmmmmm....

I've got a bit of anxiety creeping around in my tummy. Tomorrow I do my first intake or patient admission. I'm really not worried about dealing with the patients or getting the paperwork filled out properly...the thing that's bugging me is that I will be observed tomorrow by another counselor. Of course I understand that they have to make sure I can do this stuff on my own, however it's incredibly unnerving to have someone looking over your shoulder. I fucking HATE it when someone hovers over me when I'm trying to do something! Oh well...I'll deal with it. I always find a way.

Damn. I've been one big jiggling ball of nerves after another. What's wrong with me? What the hell happened to that girl I used to be? The girl that thought she could kick the world's ass? :) Hmmm...I think she got her own ass kicked one too many times. Actually, she got her ass kicked, her heart bruised, her head split open, her soul raked and torn, and she started spitting up blood. Yeah...that's a more accurate description. But I'm still here. And I'm not ready to lay down and die. Not yet.

I spent most of this weekend with my family. Wayne turned 31 this past Thursday, so we all got together to celebrate on Friday and Saturday. Good times. I love my family. They're all so freaking cooky (rhymes with spooky) and goofy and ditzy. :)

My little niece, Megan, is sick again. :( She's been sick off and on since they put her into day care in September. Her little nose was running yesterday and she just wanted to be hugged. She cuddled me and rubbed her snot all over my shirt for about an hour yesterday evening. It was really sweet, yet disgusting. :) Actually, I learned something from the experience. The snot of one's loved ones is not nearly as repulsive as the snot of others. Especially when the snot belongs to a little girl whose laughter and smile have made me understand a bit more of life's meaning.

The poor thing developed a really nasty barking cough today. Every time she coughed she would whimper and cry and little tears would well up in her eyes. She kept looking at me and Cheryl and Wayne with those tearful, questioning, blue eyes...and oh god it broke my heart!! She doesn't understand what's wrong...why her throat hurts or why it hurts when she coughs. She looked to us to make it better, but all we could do is cuddle her or try to take her mind off of it.

We finally got her to swallow some Children's Motrin at a little after noon and she seemed to feel a bit better. She and I sat on the couch and played with the Mr. Potato Head that I bought for her. She put an arm where the nose should be, the tongue where an ear should be...his eyes, one ear, and his teeth were in the proper places. :) She's also fascinated by putting things in and out of containers. She kept putting Mr. Potato Head's parts in his butt...and dumping them out again. Then she put all of his parts and him in a box. She also has one of those Bumble Ball things that vibrate and jump around. She got the clever idea of putting it in a box and turning it on, causing the box to jump around the room. I've discovered that a child can be loads of entertainment when you love that child.

The more time I spend with Megan, the more I know that I want to be a mother. But not just yet. I've got to get my life and heart to a certain point before I can begin trying to guide a little life through this world. I'm getting impatient with me though. I want to be at peace...I want to be happy...I want to be settled...I want to believe...I want to be sure. Sure of what I'm doing, where I'm going, and of who I am. Sure enough to make a life-long commitment. And this, I suppose, will come with time. Time I may or may not have.

If I don't get it right in this life, maybe I will next time around.

This evening, as I was walking back to the apartment after taking out the trash, I noticed the yellow quarter moon hovering up and to the left in the sky. I felt like it was sort of peering at me through the tops of the trees there on the hillside. I continued on back to the apartment and then looked up again and there it was again, by my side.

It reminded me of a storybook I had read as a child called "Harold and the Purple Crayon". In this children's story, a little boy named Harold finds a purple crayon. With this crayon he draws a moon and a path to walk on. He draws a forest, a city, and other sorts of exciting places until he becomes tired and wants to go back home. Eventually he draws his bedroom window around the moon, draws himself a bed, draws up the blankets, and goes to sleep.

What struck me about the story when I was a child was that through all of his travels, no matter where he goes or what he does, the moon always stays by his side. Like a protector...a companion...an old friend. When I was small I actually thought of the moon as god's eye. :)

Tonight as I recalled the story, I felt comforted. No matter where life takes us or where we take ourselves, some things will always remain constant and stable in our lives. And hopefully not only the moon in the sky.

Hard Days and Nights
I survived my first few days at the new job. Somehow I survived waking at 4AM to get my ass to work by 6AM. And I assure you, survived is the appropriate term.

Tuesday night: Since I was all nerves about starting a new job on Wednesday, I got very little sleep. Only an hour, actually.

Wednesday: As I’m sure you can imagine, I was exhausted come Wednesday morning. But I still had to go through an entire day of meeting people and learning new information. I came home that evening and crashed for an hour and then got up to spend a little time with Ben. That night I was sure that I was going to sleep well due to my exhaustion. WRONG! I experienced that ‘I’m so fucking tired, but I can’t sleep” buzz and I got only one hour of sleep.

Thursday: Thursday morning I was ready to cry. I was faced with another bloody day of no bloody, fucking sleep! Well, I went to work and tried to stuff more knowledge into my tiny, fatigued brain and then I came home and slept for an hour. I got up and hung out with Benjamin and I was luckily able to sleep 6 hours that night.

Friday: Friday morning comes and I find that I’m still exhausted, having had only 10 hours of sleep over the past three days. I go through the day and go to bed at 9PM that night.

Saturday: I woke up this morning at 10:30AM. 13 and a half hours of sleep, baby!!!!

The Perfect Drug
Well, let me tell you all about my new job.

The Clinic: I now work at an opiate addiction treatment clinic, more commonly known as a methadone clinic. Opiates include the following drugs: Opium, Codeine, Morphine, Heroin, Dilaudid, Percodan, Numorphan, Vicodin, Demerol, Fentanyl, Methadone, Darvon, and Talwin. These drugs effect the “pleasure center” of the brain giving the user a euphoric feeling or rush.

Those addicted to opiates will suffer from withdrawal if they don’t receive another fix before the drug is totally out of their system. Approximately 24-36 hours since the last fix, the addict experiences insomnia, vomiting, diarrhea, weakness, depression and hot/cold flashes. After 2 days they have muscular and abdominal cramps, elevated temperature and severe tremors and twitching. Most addicts don’t let it get this far. They take get another fix before they can become sick. Most people who try to quit won’t make it beyond 2 days, because they’re so ill. Some people become so dependent on the drug that they will experience extreme withdrawal symptoms (vomiting and diarrhea) that result in death.

Basically, it’s a really hard habit to kick on your own. So they come to the clinic where they receive methadone. Methadone, which is also an opiate, stimulates the same receptors in the brain as the other opiates. At the proper dosage, it eliminates cravings and relieves/prevents withdrawal symptoms in the addict, without giving the person a rush or high. (The proper dosage is dependent on height, weight, and how much of the opiates the addict was taking.) It essentially becomes a maintenance medication, allowing the person to live a normal life.

Once the stable dose is reached, the counselors try to assist the patients with further normalizing their lives. Most people come to the clinic with shattered worlds. Because of their drug use their family and friends have disowned them, they have no job, they may have criminal records, and they are usually in insane amounts of debt. So the counselor (that’s me) gets to help them make a plan to put it all back together. And they come in and see me as time passes and tell me of their progress and such. As goals are accomplished we revise the plan. After a time, most patients will want to come off of the methadone. They don’t want to be dependent upon anything, especially another drug. So the counselor helps them slowly lower their dosage until they’re totally off of the drug. Some people choose to stay on the methadone, treating it like any other prescribed medication.

Of course, there are some that come to the clinic and try to get their doses and sell them. Methadone goes for $1 a mg on the street. So if you’re being dosed at 150 mg a day and you pay $87.50 for a weeks worth of doses and then take them home and sell them…well that’s $962.50 profit for the week! Not bad.

Of course, no patient is allowed to take home their doses until they have displayed good attendance, good behavior, been cooperative, had “clean” drug screens, and they’ve been in treatment for a while.

I know that I’ll deal with a lot of bullshit, but I also know that I’ll be helping those serious patients rebuild their lives. And that will be worth any shit that I have to put up with. I think I’m really gonna love this job. :)

The Temperature: The building is fucking freezing cold! Everyone, including the men, keep their jackets on during the day. Most people have brought little electric heaters to keep in their offices. The reason for the insanely cold temperatures is that methadone must be stored between 65 and 70 degrees F. So they freeze us to keep the drug happy.

My Co-workers: Everyone seems nice. Seems. I’m sure that I’ll uncover the bitches and assholes after I’m there a while. I work with Matt McClure’s wife, Cyndi. She’s a pretty brash and loud person. Not one I could claim as a bosom buddy, but she’ll be a great resource for me when I’m through with training.

The Patients: These people come from all walks of life. Some are very poor and some are fairly wealthy. I've seen the stereotypical skinny, unwashed hair, dirty jeans and flannel shirt junkie types. I've seen doctor/lawyer looking men and women in business suits. I've seen your cute little cheerleader looking girls, with perfect hair, bodies, and smiles and sexy buff football player or model looking guys. I've seen mothers with their children. Husbands and wives. Boyfriends and girlfriends. And they all line up, every morning, waiting for those doors to open at 5AM, so that they can all get through their days. They usually start coming 30 to 45 minutes before the doors open, I'm told. So these people are getting out of bed at 3AM so that they can get a good place in line. Insane. Crazy and sad that they have let something so control their lives that they now have to plan their day around it.

Training: My trainer is nice, so that’s a plus. He’s a 35 year-old male who looks like he’s in his late 40s. He’s already had open heart surgery (due to his bitch wife, according to Cyndi) and he was in the military once upon a time. It took him 20 years to get his Psychology B.A. He takes his job very seriously and he’s firm but kind with his patients. He knows the job well and he’s a decent trainer, but he has certain flaws. Some things he has trouble explaining…he expects me to know what he’s talking about a little too often. And he’s stressed out because he’s expected to train and keep up with all of his patients and paperwork.

For the most part, I’ve been reading policy out of the Operations Manual. This sucks ass. I’m a hands-on or observation learner. Things I’ve read rarely stick in my brain too well unless I’m totally psyched about the subject matter. It's even more difficult for what I've read to stick in my brain when I have a serious deficit of sleep.

Friday, I pulled him aside and said, “Look, you’re getting behind on your paperwork. Let’s do some of that while you supervise me. I’m a hands-on learner anyway.” He was pretty happy with that and so was I. I learned more on Friday than any other day.

I just decided that it was MY training and I was going to take more control over how I was being trained. My job depends upon it, after all. After the training there’s an assessment. If I’m lacking in any areas, those areas will be reviewed and I will be re-tested. If I don’t do well on that test, I’m referred to the Program Director so she can decide whether I stay or go. I’m sure that I’m worried over nothing. I’ll do well. Maybe. :)

And the wind cries, “Study”!
And so here I am, feeling dazed and all out of whack. I managed to get some laundry done this morning, shower, and deposit some stuff at the bank. And now I’m faced with studying for my GRE. This will be my last effort, as I take the test Monday morning at 8AM. Where I will attend grad school is very dependent on this test…but my brain is so numb I really don’t care at the moment.

The more I think about it, the more I feel that I’m not ready to go back to school this January. I was thinking of the possibility that I may be rejected by MU and UK and I was trying to gauge my reaction. I found that I was relieved by the thought of Marshall rejecting me…and a bit stressed by the thought of UK rejecting me. But if Marshall doesn’t accept me, god knows UK isn’t going to. Or maybe I don’t give myself enough credit. Or maybe I won’t think about this right now and avoid stressing myself out.

Sorry this is so long. I’ve just had a lot going on and I haven’t written for a few days.

Well, as Wank says, “I’m all blogged out.”

The throat is a bit better. I was able to squeak out a song or two today, which was nice.

I feel so odd right now. And it's not the sickness. I feel...nervous...stressed...afraid, I guess. Tomorrow I start the new job. Actually, I should be in bed right now because I have to get up at freaking 3AM cause I have to be at work at 4:45AM. The good thing is that I get off at 1:30PM so I'll have the whole evening to chill at home. :)

Yeah...I'm nervous, I guess. But I'll be fine. It's just another one of those changes in life. And change can be scary.

I've got all sorts of stuff going on in my head and heart right now. I feel all twisted up or bent or scattered. Sometimes I feel like I'm just totally losing it. Lately, when I'm alone, my affect has been all screwed up. I laugh for no reason...or feel compelled to cry. I keep this under control when others are around cause I don't want them to think I'm crazy or anything. :) But like Dr. Pamela Mulder once said during a lecture in my Personality Theory class, "We're all a little fucked up. Crazy is just a matter of degree."

I suppose I'll figure things out. I just feel really lonely lately too. I don't have anyone other than Ben to talk to really. Not that I mind talking to Ben, it' s just nice to have a different perspective sometimes. A different and thoughtful perspective. I used to share stuff with my sis, but god love her, you know she's gonna tell me what I want to hear because she loves me and wants me to be happy! I talk to Shawn...he's really good at being impartial but sometimes but I think he gets overwhelmed with TMI. Poor guy.

What I need to do is make me a friend all my very own. I have friends, but they're all my and Ben's mutual friends. When I feel the need to bitch about him pissing me off and I go to them, I know it makes them and him uncomfortable. I need to find someone with whom I can discuss my feelings that will remain impartial and provide me with mature, insightful feedback.

So basically I need a therapist. :) I'm starting a position as a counselor tomorrow and I need fucking counseling. How hilarious is that? :)

Until next time...

"and both hands
now use both hands
oh, no don't close your eyes
I am writing
graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of
how hard we tried"

~ Ani Difranco from the song Both Hands

My throat hurts. :(

After weeks of my niece being sick and infecting everyone else in my family but me, I've finally succumbed. After all, no one can resist the power of The Baby.

This has been...well..an interesting weekend. Saturday, for me, was one of those "I feel so depressed and dreadful that I could commit suicide, if I
didn't suspect that I might have a bright and happy future ahead of me" days. It seemed that NOTHING was going right that day.

Ben and I got into a sort of disagreement type thing. Nothing big, but still unpleasant. Rather than going shopping together as we had planned, I ended up going to the mall alone. I was the ONLY person at the mall (that I saw anyway) that was alone. Except for the cleaning crew...but that doesn't help because they work there.

So there I was, feeling very lonley, and I couldn't find what I was looking for...so that bummed me out too. On the drive home, I started feeling ill and this compounded the bummed feeling. I ended up getting back to the apartment and crawling in bed with my shoes and clothes still on. Ben tried to comfort me but I was beyond comforting. I was in the "leave me the hell alone" phase of depression and illness. So I laid in there for a couple hours. I wasn't really tired, but I dozed off a couple of times..and drooled on the pillow.

Pathetic.

Sunday and today were not so bad. I'm feeling a bit better this evening, which is good since I start my new job on Wednesday. I really don't want to try to learn new stuff with a runny nose, cough, sore throat, and that fuzzy-removed from reality feeling that comes along with a cold.

I guess what has agitated me the most about this being sick thing is that I haven't been able to sing. I enjoy singing as much if not more than I enjoy sex. It's very much a part of me. When I'm feeling bad, I can just let go and lose myself in singing along with something and I feel better. I sing to cheer myself up, I sing to entertain myself, I'll sing to entertain others. And I sing to write lyrics. I can't put something down on paper unless I work the melody out in my head at the same time. That's just how I do it. But if I can't use my voice properly, then I can't really figure out how something is going to sound. It's just really frustrating.

I'm broken!!!!

Oh well, I guess all I can do is wait for this bug to run it's course. Or maybe the Over the Counter Drug gods will shower me with their blessings and heal me of my infirmity.

I was rummaging through a box of notebooks and papers the other day and I came across a ton of old poetry, song lyrics, and, of course, a shit load of old muse vomit.

I'm going to post a little of the muse vomit that was trying to be poetry or lyrics but didn't quite succeed. I still like it, though. You all must understand that what I call muse vomit is possibility. It is something that could have been and still could be. And sometimes it still manages to find a way to become what it was intended to be. :)
Perhaps the idea that was trying to be expressed will inspire me again...or a word or a phrase...and then I'll actually create something from that. It's a thrilling process. It sort of makes me feel that nothing is wasted...nothing is truly a failure. If something doesn't go quite right the first time around then maybe it's just because it wasn't time for it to be.

I think that too many writers probably throw away their past attempts and failures...their muse vomit. Not me. I like to keep mine around. You never know when it's going to come in handy.

Anyway, six batches of vomit coming at ya! Blaaarhhhhg! (I especially like the last one.)

untitled and written April 1, 1998 1:15 AM

I can't understand everything that I have done
I can't understand anything that you have said
I speak your language
But you don't speak mine
And my world fades to red

I don't really know what I'm doing here
I don't really know why you stay
I can't fathom what there is to claim here
But you can have it your own way

I don't believe in this confusion
I can't believe love is this sweet
I never knew how cold the cold was
Until the night I felt your heat

I have never felt such exquisite torture
I have never loved one completely through
I had never willingly drank of poison
Until I had tasted you

I don't think I've loved one so honest
I don't think I've ever been so unsure
I don't know that I can take you
It may be too much to endure

I can't understand everything that I have done
I can't understand anything that you have said
I speak your languge
But you don't speak mine
And my world fades to red


Poison written in Jan or Feb of 1998

Lying eyes
Biting tongue
Hide behind a mask of control

Again I lie
Load the gun
Smilng sweetly as I bleed your soul

untitled and written June 15, 1998

sometimes, baby
you're all too human
the alter I built for you
collecting dust in the corner

sometimes, baby
you're way too noble
virtue oozing from your pores
acrid like sweat

and sometimes, baby
you're just perfect
your eyes honest and touching me
through the darkness

untitled and written sometime in 1999? maybe?

you like to bring blood
you like the thick warmth
so just twist your knife
and bleed me some more

Inside You written sometime in 1998

sometimes
you look at me
disgust evident upon your face
and I feel cold sick
inside me

one time
you said "forgive"
in a moment of truth, hope, and love
but suspicion breathes
inside you

Sleep written March 5, 1999

Twisting, it grows
Green around me
Tangled it shows
I'm going nowhere
Staining my skin
Slowly caressing
Tieing me down
It holds me again

Sleep, sleep
In the grass that surrounds you
Feel it, cool against your skin
Sleep, sleep
Now peace has found you
You won't ever be lonely again

The rain, it falls
Bathing me naked
There aren't any walls
Keeping me here
Sometime I pretend
That I'm resurrected
But then the earth calls
And I'm sleeping again

So my application process to the graduate programs of MU and UK are almost complete.

I sat down last night and completed all necessary applications. Tonight I wrote the bullshit statements of educational and professional goals.

"It has been my life long dream to be a psychologist. I will practice psychology in the state of West Virginia until I have blue hair and my
breasts sag to the floor." Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!

If I can't do what I really want to do, then I'll be a psychologist. And since what I really want to do is probably way way way beyond my reach
I'll be a psychologist....and charge people lots of money to blather to me about their problems.

After this whole GRE thing is over with on Nov. 11th, I'm going to sign myself up for guitar lessons. I've been wanting to play a musical
instrument since I was 5 years old. Nobody would ever teach me. My father was too busy working...my brother had no patience and was
a reclusive and rebelious youth who didn't want to hang out too much with his kid sister. And there was no one else who could teach.

So anyway, I've decided that I'm going to do a month or two of lessons...give myself something I've been hungering after for a long time now.

I was going through my song lyrics the other day and realized that I have 12 songs that are nearly completed...they only need music. And (I think)
they are actually good songs. And then I have about 13 more that are not quite muse vomit, not quite finished...they need a little more lyrical work
and music. Just think...a year from now I could have 25 songs up and ready to go. Looking at them, I just decided that they deserve a chance to
actually be complete and whole. They've been hanging around in my head and on the hard drive of my computer for too long. They need substance.
They need texture. They need freedom! They have a right to become what they were meant to be. And so I will do my best to give them life.

"Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent." ~ Victor Hugo

I’m at my parent’s home just outside of Beckley. Last night as I was falling asleep, a million things were running through my head. All the things I need to do in the next two weeks…stress, stress, stress!

I woke up this morning to the sound of my mother stomping around in the kitchen, banging pots and pans, cooking. I could hear the TV blaring in the living room…my dad was watching some British comedy. I could hear him laughing. :)

I stretched and yawned out of my sleep and looked around my old bedroom. The walls are still powder blue. My old white French enamel bedroom suite is gone (Ben and I are using it at the apartment) but all of my old wall decorations remain. Posters of kittens and puppies with nice little greeting card sayings cover the walls. Above the bed hangs a huge poster of a fantasy landscape with unicorns. The bouquet of fake roses that I carried as a bridesmaid in my sister’s wedding, now covered in dust and faded, hangs at an odd angle to the right of my bedroom window.

It’s nice to be home. I feel so at peace here. All of my worries seem insignificant. All that really matters is that my wonderful parents who love me and have worked so hard to provide me with all the support and love it takes to make a happy and healthy person, are just feet away from me. Just waiting for me to wake up so that we can spend our day together. :)

I’m gonna go wake Ben. He’s in the bedroom next door to the one I slept in…the one that used to be the back porch. :) It’s a little less insulated than the other rooms and no heating vent runs out there…I really doubt one ever will. Anyway, Ben likes that room because it stays colder.

Yum! Smells like mom baked some biscuits…and bacon…probably sausage and eggs and gravy too.

Munchie time!

Just rented and watched Mr. Deeds. Cute movie. Absurd like Happy Gilmore and Billy Madison, but I was amused. :)

One of the funniest lines in the entire movie was spoken by John Turturro at the meeting of his character, the sneaky servant Emilio Lopez, and Adam Sandler's character, Longfellow Deeds.

Deeds: "You sorta snuck up on me there."

Lopez: (spoken with Spanish accent and an alarming smile) "I am very very sneaky, sir."

And here I am again. In much better spirits than last time, I'm glad to report. :)

You may note that in my last entry I expressed frustration and that I seemed to be feeling overwhelmed. Being driven so near to cracking, I prayed. I had forgotten all about that little fact until a few minutes ago when I sat down to blog. (I usually read my past blog before beginning a new one.)

With this in mind, I find it interesting that I have some good news to report. :) So maybe it was the prayer that did it for me? Some people might say that. I, however, have no fucking clue. Did God hear me and decide to take pity on my poor wretched spirit? Or was it just chance? I really don't know what I believe. And I don't like that I don't know what I believe. I would rather have one opinion or the other. The way I see it, if I just keep standing out here in the middle of the road, I'm liable to be run over by something big and ugly.

Whatever forces were or were not at work, I am happy to report that I have been hired by the methadone clinic as a substance abuse counselor! Yay! I'm gonna work with druggies!! There's a high likelihood that I will, at some point, be threatened or perhaps manhandled. One day I will go in to work and learn that some poor person that I've been working with and who has been doing so well, overdosed the night before and won't be coming back for further treatment. Harsh. I'm slightly terrified.

I start work on Nov. 6th. The pay will equal to about $21,000 a year (before taxes, of course). Still that's better than what I am currently being paid and this job experience will be invaluable. I'll go through a training program for a few weeks and then come out with 20 patients to see weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly, depending on the phase of the program they're in.

Ben told me that I didn't need any training. He said I should tell them to shoot more and shoot more often. Or I could just tell them, "M'kay....drugs are bad....M'kay."

Second thing of interest, I'm FINALLY taking the GRE on Nov. 11th. I just decided to go ahead and schedule it so that I would be motivated to study. :) Two weeks! EEEKK! So I probably won't be posting near as much as I usually do...if at all.

Third happy thing, I got tickets for the Columbus, OH Tori Amos concert!!!!!!!!! *girlish squeal* I browsed around on eBay and found a pair of tickets set at $90.00. To buy them from ticketmaster it would have cost $100 so this was a good deal. Of course, I knew the price would go up as the auction end date grew closer and more people bid. I decided to just watch it...to wait until the last few minutes and then bid. The price went up to $147.50 and stopped. I decided I would not pay more than $160 for them...and then I waited. The auction ended yesterday morning at 8:30am. With three minutes left in the auction I placed my required minimum bid of $150...I was outbid!...placed another at $155...was outbid!!!...I placed my final bid of $160 and crossed my fingers. And I won. :)

So maybe before the concet on Nov. 23rd, Ben and I will swing by and visit old lady Berry in Columbus and see if she's still kicking. :)

Whatever forces were at work...whether it was God or just the fluffy-happy-love thoughts that I requested my friends send my way, it worked. So I say thank you to all of you. Thank you to God...to my friends and family...to the spiders that keep building webs in my front doorway...to the stars in the heavens!

ACK!!!!! ACK!!! EEEEEEK!!!!!! BLAH!!! BLAH!!! BLAH!!!!

NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

MOTHERFUCKSHITSHITSHITMOTHERFUCKSHITSHITSHITCOCKDOGCARCHICKEN!!!!!!

I'm frustrated. It's been a nasty blah day.

I cried today. And I prayed today. (I should probably do the latter again considering my above use of expletives.)

I need fluffy-happy-love thoughts. Please send them my way.

In spite of my frustration and horrid mood, I was able to laugh at this quote from Mr. Stephen King:

"People want to know why I do this, why I write such gross stuff. I like to tell them I have the heart of a small boy... and I keep it in a jar on my desk."

Every now and then I feel compelled to record a moment in my life or a thought or feeling. Sometimes it comes out as lyrics, sometimes as a poem, some times as a story, and others as jumbled nothing.:) But I try!

Friday morning I had the desire to capture the picture I saw from my office window...and the feelling that it pulled out of me. It's not a poem or a story or a lyric...it's just some words.

Early Morning at the Office of Hazel A. Straub, Attorney At Law
10/18/02 8:15am

I'm early today
the tiny law office is dark
except for the sleepy rays of sun
snaking in between the blinds

my body is chilled after the shaded walk
from garage to building, through the wind
and I am drawn to the warm
that I imagine the sunlight must hold

my cold hand reaches for the string
that will lift the blind
a downward pull
and the room is bathed in a soft golden glow

This is my boss's office
I suppose I shouldn't linger
but there before me is the waking city
irresistible to my gaze

The fog, rising from the river
is wrapping itself about the buildings
The tiny, streaming clouds from the heating systems
mingle and slowly rise with the fog

I can see the top of the hospital, St. Francis
a bank tower or two
and a dozen ancient and weathered office buildings
and some that are maybe not that old

oh, but there are some that are now missing
the inexhaustible rining of the telephones
and the sporadic whisper
of paper being shuffled by human hands

The sun is reflected back at me
from the windows of Laidley Tower
Across the street there is a pink hotel
and across from that, the golden domes of St. George's

The fog has lifted
so that I can just see
the slim line of interstate
winding it's way through the city

cars and trucks and vans
Hondas and Fords and Mitsubishis
they all fly through
all fly by the city

cars with parents and kids
the married, the single, and divorced
on their way to work or school
or maybe on their way home

or maybe off to something new and strange and wonderful
and I wonder
do they see the city as it goes flying through
as it goes flying by their windows?

As you may note, I posted my last post in the wee hours o' the mornin' this morning. I was up until 4am with horrid, horrid stomach pains. Crazy ass moon why don't you leave me the hell alone!!!!!!

And now that that's out of my system...

I suppose a couple of good things came out of me being up so early. I had time to send a friend a little e-greeting and I came up with a good idea about Christmas gifts among friends this year! See, it went like this. There I was, in pain, upset about the whole Tori concert catastrophe, and unable to sleep, so I decided to blog about it. After I blogged, I read my friends' blogs which led me to search for an e-greeting for a sick friend. That search finally took me to amazon.com (where you can still get little e-cards for free) and after the card was sent, then the idea came! ding! Like a tiny light bulb over my sleepy head: Amazon.com Wishlists!!!

We all know that Christmas is coming up soon. I know some people don't get too excited over the holiday, but I do. It's always been a really special time for me and my family and I like to spread that special-loving-goodness to my friends. To put it bluntly, I'm going to buy each of you special people something for Christmas. To aid me in my holiday search I would love it if each one of you could create an account and a Wishlist on amazon.com. That way I could look you up and see what DVD's, books, CD's, etc. you're interesting in owning. It's really hard to keep track of what you all actually have on your bookshelves, in your CD cases, in your DVD players, or in your closets. (Since the closest of you lives 3 hours away!) But if you each had a Wishlist I could say, "Well, it seems that Ken wants the 1974 film Nude for Satan." And then I could go down to Wal-Mart and buy it. :)

Of course, there's no guarantee that any of you will actually get any of the things you put on your Wishlists. It is highly likely that I'll just see something out at the mall and just feel compelled to buy it. But the Wishlist may help me to purchase something that is, at least, within a field of your interest.

Imagine this scenario....I'm out at the mall and I say, "Holy Jesus God! I really want to buy this Rod Stewart CD for Shawn for Christmas! I'm pretty sure he doesn't have any Rod Stewart CD's...and I think he likes him...yeah this'll be perfect!!!" Yes, my friends this could happen to YOU!

But if you have a Wishlist it could go something like this: I'm out at the mall and I say, "Hey there's a Rod Steward CD...would Shawn?...no, wait a sec...he didn't have Rod on his Wishlist. But he did have a few books by Kurt Vonnegut...yeah I'll go to the bookstore instead!" See, a Christmas Catastrophe prevented by the almighty power of the Amazon.com Wishlist!

Or I could just buy all of you Tori Amos CDs....you decide.

Go to www.amazon.com today! If you have any questions about setting up your wishlists, feel free to contact either Ben T. or myself, Chris G., as we were professionally trained Customer Service Specialists for Amazon.com a couple of years ago.

Happy Wishlisting!!!!

Sending thoughts of bombastic buffalo and corpulent coquettes,

The Amazon Queen

Oh, the pain. At this moment I curse being a woman. All I have to say is I better be fucking fertile. If I one day find that all of this pain has been for nothing, I will be one pissed off hoochie mama.

So here it is...1:40am and I should be in bed asleep. Well, I was in bed but my stomach cramps won't let me sleep and even Mistress Midol cannot relieve the suffering. And maybe my anxiety level is a little high as well.

I had my interview at Charleston Treatment Center today. (aka the methadone clinic) I think it went pretty well...but I'm still not sure. When I went in, I really didn't expect to have a chance...I thought I'd have to have previous experience. But then I got there and learned more about the position and found that it's something that I could really do now, it's more money, and it would be great experience. So now I want it. And I'm afraid that I won't get it. I hate being disappointed!!! It's so much safer not to want anything too intensely...that way you don't get hurt. (the words of a coward...I really don't believe them. If you subscribed to that philosophy, you'd never really live!)

Anyway now that I want it, I'm doomed!!! When I want something, I want it with every ounce of my being. And if I don't achieve my desire then every part of me is shaken. :( Ah well, the dangers of living.

I'm also greatly disappointed because it seems that I won't be able to get tickets to the Tori Amos show in Columbus on 11/23/02. I really wanted to go to this show! She's just sooooo good live...and this tour she'll have new material because she's releasing a new CD at the end of this month. :( I'm just bummed. She's my firey, red-headed heroine and I can't be there to drink her in.

Being at her last concert was...beautiful. It was at the Polaris Amphitheatre and the sun was setting as she began her set. The sky was full of pinks, yellow, golds, oranges, and purples with the fading blue backdrop. It was beautiful. And her voice was nothing less than haunting and whimsical. The thing about Tori is that she mixes up her performances. You never know what you're going to get. You never know just how she's going to re-invent a familiar and well-loved song (to make it even better) while she's up there banging away at her Bosendorfer grand piano. It's sheer performing magic...words honestly fall short for the way that I was moved.

There is a concept in hinduism called darshan. Darshan is sort of an energy of sorts...a piece of something's essence. When you visit a place that touches you emotionally, spiritually, then you are taking darshan. But you also leave a bit of yourself there, so you are also giving darshan...adding to the place to make it something ever new and wonderful. You can experience the act of giving/taking darshan with regards to a place, person, or thing. Very interesting concept. I suppose that the closest description I could give of the way I felt at that concert would be to say that I was taking and sharing darshan from the experience. There were moments that I just closed my eyes and listened...and felt the cool September air on my skin...and just was...and was aware of my being.
Very peaceful...very beautiful.

I realize that none of my friends share my feelings about her music...but that's okay. I'll forgive them. Or maybe they should forgive me. I can't help it though...she just entices me...stimulates me...entertains me...invigorates me...and pulls at everything inside of me (when she chooses).

And it seems I won't get to experience her this go around. Oh well, again, the dangers of living.

"Whatever you want too much you can't have, so when you really want something, try to want it a little less."
~ Joel Rosenberg

Shawn and Ken are in from Lexington...

We went out for a bite to eat and then came back and played a game of euchre...Ben and I won. I think I might be getting the hang of it, actually. (most likely I just got lucky.) After the game, somehow everyone started telling stories of fights and crazy feats from their high school days. I, of course, didn't have much to add. I wasn't that wild back then. I'm not that wild now. Honestly I've never really been wild. :) Anyway we had a few laughs over those...(12 junior high kids ganging up on them in a playground when they were high school students...Shawn breaking some kid's arm in a fight...Ben admitting to wrestling with Chris in the floor and in his bed *snicker snicker*...Ken climbing from a speeding truck window, in the rain, back to the bed of the truck...house toilet papering pranks and some crazy guy wanting to write "Die Dan, Die" on someone's lawn in fire).

On a side note, I'm going to interview at Charleston Treatment Center next week for a Substance Abuse Counselor position. Just think, this will be my very first position in the field of psychology if I land it! Wow! Actually getting to use my degree for something! What a concept! :) Again, wish me luck.

"have you ever been bent or pulled
have you ever been played like strings
if I could see you I could strum you
I could break you, make you sing

but I guess you can't really see the wind
it just comes in and fills the space
and everytime something moves
you think that you have seen its face

and I've always got my guitar to play
but I can do that anyday"

~ Ani DiFranco from "Anyday"

'Ello, me Lords and Ladies!

I just got back from spending a weekend with my friends Ken, Shawn, Leslie, and Crystal.

We all went to the Renaissance Festival in Waynesville, OH today (Sunday). It's held every year in a permanent 30 acre village and lasts from late August to mid October. Shawn, Crystal, Trish, Ben and I went last year and had a blast. We got there at about 11am and stopped at all the beer gardens on the way through....we were drunk by noon! And god, it's such fun to walk around and interact with these people in costume while completely trashed out of your mind!:) There are games also...archery games...knife throwing...spear throssing...axe throwing....And you get to do all of this while drunk!!! Amazing and mad all at the same time! :)

It was such fun last year that we decided to go again this year and bring along those of our friends that missed out on the last. Well...we got there a bit later this year so the drinking didn't really happen. But it was enjoyable. We watched Dante's Inferno performed at a Mud Show. Very comical. Three men acting a comic, twisted version of the tale and using a mud pit as center stage and mud as various props. And splashing mud onto those unsuspecting people in the front rows. This one was a 10 row show, which means that mud splashed as far back as the 10th row. :) Very entertaining.:) I laughed my ass off and this was even the 2nd time I've seen that particular Mud Show. (although I was blitzed last year when I saw it and really didn't remember much of it.)

We also watched a juggler. He juggled fire, sharpened weapons, balls, cups, and a little yellow rubber chicken.:) What was very amusing was him juggling the little chicken, a sickle or sythe, and a hatchet. :) He had a bad accent though...needs to work on that...and his jokes were horrid. But he could juggle okay.

Lastly, we watched a jousting competition. There was actual jousting...fake/staged swordplay (and very poor, at that)...and games involving running a joust through several rings,etc. The crowd became involved by being encouraged to cheer for certain knights. There was a court watching the joust...Queen Elizabeth I and all of her royal crew. :) The costumes were gorgeous and it was a nice touch. :) But the best thing about the joust was seeing a man fully armoured in plate riding horseback. That is something I've really never seen before.:)

The rest of the day we walked around a looked in shops. Checked out the weaponry for sale and the armour...and the period clothing and jewelry...and whatever else looked interesting. (which was everything.) For lunch we had steak on a stake or turkey legs. I had steak on a steak. It was a delicious 6 oz. steak on a wooden stick. No utensils were available...you just basically rip it off the stick with your teeth and let the juices run down your chin. Very carnal. :) I ended up getting steak juice (a mixture of cow blood and marinade) all over the front of my blouse. :) Ah well, at least I escaped the Mud Show unscathed and clean.:)

At one shop the other women and I tried on beautiful leather doublets. They were $200 a pop and way too expensive for me to consider buying right now, however I've made a promise to these people that I will buy one once I've gotten a "real" job.:) So I must remain true to my word. It's now in writing and my friends must hold me accountable!:) Anyway, we took a picture of it and one might describe the whole experience as and "uplifting" one for us women. Ben said he wished corsets and doublets were still in fashion. I am not inclined to agree as having my breasts threatening to spill out of my shirt all of the time would not be too comfortable.

Well, that was the Ren Fest, now for the day of drunkenness!! Saturday was the day of drunkenness. After Leslie arrived at Shawn's mother's home in Columbus, we all decided to go have breakfast/lunch. We went to the Waffle House per Ben's insistance. :) After an incredibly greasy breakfast we proceeded to Big Bear to purchase the beverages necessary to bring us to a state of inibriation. We went back to Shawn's mum's and, upon my suggestion, played a game called "Fuck the Dealer".
I'm sure if you've played this game you know it's a surefire way to get drunk fast. If not, you really should play it...it kicks ass! :) But from the name I'm sure you can infer that begin the Dealer is a bad thing...if you're not wanting to get drunk. I was the dealer for far too long. I drank 4 beers in a period of 45 minutes perhaps? I was trashed pretty quickley...to say it bluntly I was fucked. I was fucked by everyone at that damn table...repeatedly. :) But I got to fuck them too, so it all works out in the end.:)

I finished the rest of my beers(actually Schmirnof Ice...I hate beer, though I keep trying it in hopes that my tastes will change and I will miraculously enjoy it) and passed out on the living room floor for 30 minutes with the other girls. I remember us all shoving our asses in the air for a picture opportunity...it seemed like a good idea at the time.:) I woke to the sound of children laughting and I thought I was having a nightmare...but Shawn's family happened to pop in for a visit and it was just the laughter of his little cousin who looked like an angel, but whom Shawn confided is really a demon in disguise.:) Shawn had cooked us a wonderful dinner and I gobbled down a hotdog and hamburger and then played a game or two of Euchre with Ken, Ben, and Shawn's Aunt Linda. I was still drunk at this point...with a growing headache, I might add. I really didn't sober up until later that night...after another two hour long nap. Then we all watched My First Mister...which is a fantastic movie that I highly recommend. I plan on adding it to my DVD collection ASAP. I laughed, I cringed, I cried. Good stuff.

Well..yeah...that was my weekend. It was great being with my friends and I had a wonderful time.:) C'est la Vie!

Now its very early on Monday morning and I have to work tomorrow..um..I mean today at 9am. So I guess I'll stop for now. Night and love to you all!

Here's a snippet from some lyrics I've been throwing around for a while....I have a chorus and other verses to go with them but I'm just not pleased with the whole. But this part I love:

Sometimes my heart is wanton
Devouring whom she may
And other days she’s yearning for
The time that’s past away

And if the air is chill
She in melancholy hides
And even summer’s warm cannot
Melt the ice inside

Have suggestions? Ideas that might spur me along? Please share! My Muse has gone retarded. :)

I was just reading through one of my old poetry text books for kicks and I came across a bit of a poem that moved me. :) I just wanted to share it. :)

And you beside me, blessed now while sirens
Sing to us, steathily weave us into day
Serenely now, before day claims our eyes
Your cool arms murmurously about me lay.

While myriad snowy hands are clustering at
the panes--

Your hands within my hands are deeds;
my tongue upon your throat -- singing
arms close; eyes wide, undoubtful
dark

drink the dawn--
a forest shudders in your hair.

From The Bridge by Hart Crane

I just finished watching the movie Frailty for the first time. Didn't have time to catch it when it was in the theater.

All I have to say is Dear Holy Jesus God! I am disturbed to my core.

So, I bought a car last Saturday at that auction I mentioned in my previous post. I scored a 1995 grey Chevy Corsica for $2,100! (And if you're wondering, yes, I've been driving a Chevy Corsica for the past several years...my mother's car...it's a 1992...and it's grey!) And the kicker is that the car only has 56,000 miles!

When Ben and I went to look at the cars before the auction began that morning, I picked five cars that I decided I would be happy driving for the next 5 years or so. There was a red 1997 Dodge Minivan (big enough to haul all of my friends anywhere and my family on vacation!), a 1997 blue Ford Expedition, a 1995 white Crown Victoria (former police car. This was a freaking huge ass car...I loved it!), a 1993 white Jeep Cherokee, and the Corsica that I ended up buying. After narrowing my choices down, we approached the guy who inspects and cares for the vehicles for the WV Surplus Department. We threw question after question about the vehicles at this guy until we were satisfied. I had set my price limit at $3000 and after this talk I decided I had no chance in hell at winning the Expedition, so it got crossed off of our list.

We walked around a bit and after a short while it was time for the auction to begin!!! We took our place near the auctioneer and waited, excited and somewhat terrified. Now let me take a moment to describe the auctioneer. He had a large dark mustache, no beard, and was wearing a t-shirt and jeans along with a big white Stetson cowboy hat. A very interesting character, he drove a black limousine that had been detailed to appear that it had bullet holes all along the sides.

Anyway, it happened that there was a car dealer there...auctions are where they get most of their used vehicles...and he outbid us on nearly everything. The price on the Minivan shot up so fast we didn't even make our first bid, and we had decided not to even try for the Expedition. Then came the Crown Victoria. I wanted this car. It was nice and roomy, had 76,000 miles, and the only thing I would have to replace would have been the battery. So we bid up to $3,000 but the dealer outbid us at $3,100. :) And then the Cherokee came up and we were outbid again. Finally we came to the Corsica. We waited until the bid got up to $1,600 before jumping in and we took it up, matching the dealer with every $50 increase. It was so nerve wracking...watching Ben put me deeper into debt with the flick of a card...I was going to stop him at $2,300...but then the dealer caved in. We won! The entire crowd cheered for us, as that damn dealer had been beating everyone out of the good vehicles all day long.:) Victory for the little people...or in my case the big little people. Afterwards, he came over and gave me advice on where to get a new paint job for the car and congratulated us in his own way. He could've kept bidding...he basically let us have it, and for that I am grateful.

So now I'm the proud owner of my very own Chevy Corsica. The paint is chipping badly on the roof and there are a couple rust spots, though not very deep. That can easily be remedied with sanding. The only other problem is a loose screw in the motor mount, which can easily be replaced for the meager price of $20. I plan on getting it painted as soon as I get the license and all of that good stuff taken care of...that should be about $300 if the dealer is to be trusted. I just got my title in the mail today, so I'm going to try to head to the DMV tomorrow evening to pay my taxes and get the process started...and then I need insurance. All in all I should have it on the road in a week or two.

So the total cost of the car will be about $2,600...Hazel gave me $500 so that reduces it to a $2,100 cost to me...I had $700 left in my savings after the Florida trip...so that knocks it down to $1,400 that will actually remain on my credit card. This evening I'm applying for one of those cards that gives you 0% interest for a year on balance transfers...so I'll transfer my balance over and then pay that baby off as fast as I can! The cool thing is that I can set my own payment amount...and as long as I get it paid off within the year before the 0% interest runs out, I'm in the clear! Peachy Keen! :)

Damn...you can tell I came from a poor household, can't you? I think it shows in my ability to juggle money and debt. :)

Just when I think that my boss is the Anti-Christ she goes and does something incredibly helpful.

I plan on going to a state used vehicle auction this Saturday in Dunbar and I was discussing my hopes of finding a reliable car there this past week at lunch. After lunch Hazel tells me to remind her next week and she'll give me a $500 bonus. I tell her that I couldn't accept it, it's too much money, etc. I thought about it this weekend and decided that there was no way in hell that I was going to "remind her" about the money. It would basically be begging her for money and I'm still pissed at her. Ben and Shawn tried to change my mind...telling me that I was owed this money for her ill treatment of me, etc. But I wouldn't budge.

Well, yesterday she walks into the library and throws an envelope down on the table. I look up, surprised that she actually went through with it, and then proceeded to try and give it back to her. "I don't deserve this, Hazel. I haven't worked for it, I can't accept it. I don't feel right about it." She just held a hand up and told me to say "thank you." I looked at her a moment and nodded and said, "Thank you, Hazel".

I sat there a moment stunned. Feeling a bit guilty...a bit dirty. Then I laughed as realization washed over me. Hazel is the kind of person that offends people and then trys to smoothe it over by giving gifts. She was doing this to give herself peace of mind about belittling me in front of my co-worker. And perhaps to try and prevent me from leaving her employ the first chance I get.

Well, boss lady. I forgive you for your ill treatment. After all, it's not psychologically healthy to keep ill feelings and anger present all the time. It's far too stressful and damanging to the mind, body, and spirit. So, yes, I forgive. But I will not forget. Thanks for the $500, but the first good job offer I get I'm still out the door.

Silly wench.

Well guys, wish me luck at the auction this weekend. Hopefully I won't be outbid on the one I really want.

Sex was groovy. And now I feel like I could vomit. Beautiful.

Doesn't alcohol do the strangest things to people? And we use it to increase our chances in a relationship...to "bring out our true personality". Bullshit. All it does is make me want to pee more....and maybe lose my dinner.

I need water so I don't have an incredible hangover tomorrow.

I love you all. Yes...all of you...in ways that you can't even imagine.

Yeah...right now I'm drunk. My friend Shawn and I just polished off the very large bottle of Pinot Grigio that Ben's brother bought for me for my birthday. Actually, there's just a smidge left in the bottle, but Shawn has passed out and I've reached my wine guzzling capacity. :) (Didn't think that was possible, did you?)

It took me at least 30 seconds to type that last bit....yeah...I'm drunk. So now I guess I should go have sex or something. Bye.

~ CLG

If you pick at an old wound, it will bleed. (pick, pick, pick)

She never should have rented this apartment in the Mortal City
The cold comes though every crack she puts her hand up to
The radiator's broken, so she has to use electric heat.

And tonight was the first date with the brother of the guy she worked next to
He lived a couple streets away
He listened, he had things to say
She asked him up for dinner sometime
Sometime was tonight

The radio gave updates on the ice storm while she made the dinner
They said, from all the talk, you shouldn't drive or even walk
And this just in, we're asking everyone to turn off their power
They need it at the hospital.

She ran around pulling plugs, then she called him up
Maybe now they shouldn't meet, he said that he would brave the streets
She met him at the door with a blanket and a candle
Saying, I heard it on the radio, I had to turn my power off.

He said you're not the only one, the streets were dark tonight,
It was like another century
With dim lamps and candles lighting up the icy trees and the clouds and a covered moon.

She said what kind of people make a city
Where you can't see the sky and you can't feel the ground?

I tell you something, I have this feeling that this city's dying
He said, it's not dying it's the people who are dying
She said, yes, yes I think the people are dying and nobody cares.

We had all this technology our dreams were bold and vague
And then one city got bad planners, one city got the plague.

He asked why did you move here? She said, for the job
For the job and I've been so lonely here, so lonely
There's no one I can talk to, you know I don't even know your brother.

He smiled and said, sometimes at night I walk out by the river
The city's one big town, the water turns it upside down
people found this city because they love other people
They want their secretaries, they want their power lunches.

And think about tonight, I heard the same newscast you did
I unplugged everything, I looked out the window
And I think the city heard, I watched as one by one the lights went off
So they could give their power to the hospital

They ate in silence while she thought this over,
They sat together in a dark room in the Mortal City
Shifting in their blankets so they wouldn't get spaghetti on them.

Then came the awkward moment after dinner, what to do,
The ice was still falling, the streets were still dangerous
The cabs were not running and this neighborhood was not the greatest.

They both looked at the space where a couch would've been
She felt her stomach sink, she felt like she could hardly think

She said, I never should have rented this apartment in the Mortal City
The cold comes through eve crack I put my hand up to
The radiator doesn't work, I have to use electric heat.

That settled it, they would both sleep in her bed
It was a matter of survival.

She brought out t-shirts, sweatshirts, sweatpants, socks, hats
If there was ever any thought of what would happen in that bed tonight
There was no question now
They could barely move
They were wrapped up like ornaments waiting for another season.

They lay in bed, they listened to the pelting ice
He said my brother's not a bad guy, he's just quiet
I wished you liked this city
She said, maybe I do.

I think I have a special kind of hearing tonight
I hear the neighbors upstairs
I hear my heart beating
I hear one thousand hearts beating at the hospital
And one thousand hearts by their bedsides waiting
Saying that's my love in the white gown,

We are not lost in the Mortal City
We are not lost in the Mortal City

~ Dar Williams from Mortal City

On September 8, 1978 at 11:45pm in the town of Beckley, West Virginia, a third child, a female child was born unto Garland and Diana Garris. If this child had been a male it would have borne the name William Harry and would have been called "Billy" by it's parents. But such was not the fate of the baby born on that September 8th long ago. :) Instead she was called Christina Louise.

The name Christina was chosen because of the meaning "Christian, Annointed, one who is Christ-like" and because her mother thought it was pretty. :) Her second name, Louise, means "female warrior" and was chosen for her father's sister's mother-in-law, Louise Cernuto. She was a very kind old woman and sent Christina a card with a 5 dollar bill every birthday until her death in the girl-child's 8th year of life.

Christina's brother, Wayne, was at first a bit disappointed that he wound up with a little sister. This was in the day before they could tell the sex of a child before birth, and because the child was so large in it's mother's womb everyone was certain that it was to be a boy. When the 10lbs. 2oz. baby was delivered, everyone, including the parents, was surprised by her sex. Even so, they loved her and took her home. But her brother decided that he still wanted a little brother and called her "Chris" instead of Christina and did his best to make her into a tom-boy. He succeeded somewhat. She turned into a girl who liked climbing the cherry tree's in her backyard to get to her grandmother's roof, who didn't mind getting dirty, and who liked playing with army men, Hot Wheels cars, train and race car sets, Transformers, and He-Man and Castle Grayskull. But she also like to play dress-up, to play with her She-Ra dolls, and her Barbie dolls. She hated Cabbage Patch kids and loved Garbage Pail Kids stickers. She never owned a Care Bear, but she had taped all of their movies on Disney. And for whatever reason, her entire family has been calling her Chris since she can remember. Easier on the mouth, I suppose.

And here it is, my friends: I, Christina Garris, or Chris Garris, am 24 today. I left my childhood behind me some time ago, though my Hot Wheels cars and Barbie dolls are still in boxes at my parent's home. I left the youthful invincibility of my teens 4 years ago and today I leave the safety of my early twenties for the growing shadow of my mid-twenties. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that it's not my late twenties or early thirties yet...but I'm not well pleased about aging. Today I'm one step closer to the day that I will die. Well...so are all of you, I suppose. (Cheerful thought, isnt' it?) But that's beside the point. :)

Before I know it (and if the Creator grants that I shall live long enough) my breasts will be sagging, my hair will be graying, and my skin will be old and wrinkled. The beauty and sexuality of youth will leave me and I will be a withered shell. (And though I may be able to tie my breasts in knots or sling them over my shoulders for entertainment at parties, it still remains that I will have saggy, unattractive bobbies.)

As melancholy as all of this seems, it helps me to better appreciate what I have now. I am not perfect, but I am young...and there is no cosmetic, astringent, or anti-aging cream that can truly re-create the beauty of youth. All of us, all of you, my friends, my family, inspite of any physical imperfections we have...if we are overweight or our teeth are crooked and not so white as we'd like them to be...if our muscles are not as defined as that guy and girl's on the cover of Muscle magazine...if we are losing our hair...inspite of it all, we are still beautiful, we are young, we are still alive. So I will enjoy what I have while I still have it, and remember it when I am 80 and my hair is white and my breasts touch my knees while I am sitting. :)

I am also vexed by aging because it reminds me of the mistakes that I've made in my past. If I could only go back to 19 and right all of the wrongs that I've done since that point. But then, I would not be who I am. Living and years we must lose to gain knowledge and, hopefully, wisdom. And if I were to go back to 19, I would be 19 again in body and in mind. I would not have the knowledge that I have now and would most likely make the same choices, the same mistakes. :) Funny, isn't it?

The best that I can hope for is to take the knowledge that I have gained and try to pass it on to my brother's daughter, to the children that my sister will one day have, and to the children that I will one day have. Hopefully, they will heed my counsel and save themselves my errors. But then I'm sure they'll only find new errors to make, and they will gain their own wisdom, and they will attempt to pass that knowledge on to the next generation. :)

Well, it's my birthday. I'm 24. And I'm going to go and live this day.

My thoughts are with all of you, my friends and my family. I miss you!

~ CLG