Archive for the ‘children’ Category

Why is it that each new teenage generation thinks they invented all the cool phrases and words or that only they are entitled to use them?

The other day, one of the teenagers in my life was telling me something great about their day.
To show great, short winded, enthusiastic support, I snapped “Awesome!”

What I heard back was, “Oh no, you did NOT just use that word!”
“What word?”
“Awesome! You’re too old to use that word.”

Listen for sounds of me laughing, HYSTERICALLY!!!

“Oh, right…. okey dokey, GOLLY GEE THAT SURE SOUNDS NEATO!”
“Well now you’re just be sarcastic”, comes the reply.


I think if anything, the older we get the more entitled we are to use the shorter, cooler phrases. As time goes by we’re burning our candles at both ends. When we’re trying to express ourselves we need to say what’s on our minds as quickly as possible before we forget what it is that’s on our minds!

And speaking of bull shit…… I wonder if out in a bull field somewhere there are 2 bulls talking to eachother saying, “Man, that bill the bull sure is a bully! he’s full of human shit!”


These bumper stickers are all over cars down here in the south.  It really pisses me off!!!  Ever heard of separation of church and state????  And btw…if you don’t agree with gay marriage, by all means…. DO NOT HAVE ONE!!!!!

Here are some “reason’s” for prohibiting gay marriage.  Which just proves my point that people who think this way are morons to begin with!!!!

Blood Stains

Posted: September 14, 2008 in All, Blogroll, children, Family, Life, MY POEMS, Thoughts

Sitting on the bed,
Feet dangling.
Hands over ears
Couldn’t stop the stabbing voices
From behind the door.
His name bounced off
Every wall,
And every once in awhile,
Mine too.
My own blood,
Stains from a moment of
Heated passion.
Door slung open,
Smiles fixed,
Eyes pouring arsenic
Into my soul.

The vinyl slid out of its’ sleeve,
The speakers bumping so loud
My screams went unheard.
The beer cans stacked
On the counter, one by one.
He sang and danced,
gyrating hips,
With the man he just cursed.
Becoming him
If just for a night.

Picking up my Holly Hobbie
I whispered my fears into her ears.
The secret pocket
Under her rag dress
Held a piece of glass
I found on the step.
That was the first time
I tried to drain the blood
That would dry the
Tears of resentment.

The Olympics are on in the background.  I’ve been half watching off and on.  I really enjoy watching sports and the Olympics are no exception.  I’ve mostly been enjoying  volleyball, badminton,  I guess all the sports that are played in the backyard bar-b-que, and of course Micheal Phelps.  I swear, I wouldn’t be surprised if I heard the announcer say, “And for the next event, potato sack racing!”   I would have to tune into that one, and would love to have the brady bunch theme in the background!

 Right now, sitting at the computer I can hear the floor acrobatic, jumping, flipping, twisting thingy.  I hate gymnastics, so I have no idea what that’s called.  I can’t see the television from here, so I can only listen.  Which is fine most of the time, because tv has been so boring to me lately.  Anyway, back to the floor flipping gymnastic thingy.  When you see that’s on, turn it up kind of loud and sit where you can’t see the screen and just listen.  THAT SOUND!  OMG!!!  It sounds like that monster I swore was coming to get me when I was a kid.  The one that was stomping toward my room, ready to crash through the door, shake my bed and then drag me out of it.  I don’t know why in my thoughts it would always shake my bed first. I guess it was a fair monster and wanted to give me a fighting chance by waking me up before grabbing and running away with me.  I was so sure the monster was coming, so I had to lay on my back all night long so I could see it coming…and maybe do something to get away. 

I hate that sound!  

I wonder what’s on nick at night?

It’s been almost 2 years since I wrote part 1.  I never realized how many of us there are until I wrote that post. I have received so many beautiful and touching emails over the last few years from survivors and those that love them. Many of you have brought me to tears and have shown me the strength we all have inside of us.

Some things have come up since I wrote part 1 and I’d like to share them with you. At the time I wrote that back in October of 2006, a big part of me really believed that my fear and my trust issues were something that I could conquer…control. But I am realizing that is not true for me. It is a daily battle with myself when I get up every morning to decide not to be afraid and to find something about someone to trust. And almost everyday something creeps in to try and destroy my efforts. I’ve realized that if I look really hard, something will come up to restore my faith. However, the task of even looking can be daunting when the thoughts of my past cloud the ones from my present. This makes it extremely difficult to keep my eyes open for the positive things in life. Somehow, I always manage to choose faith over fear.

I have been asked so many times by different people, “Isn’t your life better now?” Or, “why do you keep bringing up the past?” The answer to the first one is a resounding YES!!! The second answer is not so easy to explain. From my point of view I’m not bringing the past up, the past is a part of me, it has never left me. My past has molded the person I am today. Of course things are different. I no longer feel the need to hide in the closet for hours, or to cut myself or to split myself off from the pain. But when I see, hear, taste or feel something that brings up emotions from my past, I usually run in the opposite direction. And usually, I look like an idiot in the process. All of the old sensations that still house themselves somewhere in my soul wake up and sound the alarms. There is no way to get rid of those alarm ringers. They came to be for a reason, and there is nothing that could convince them that they are no longer needed. They are the most loyal of protector’s known to man…and well, women too!

I have difficulty making and keeping friends. Hell, I can’t even trust myself half the time, much less someone else. This interferes with so many different aspects of my life, like making dreams come true. MOST of it is my fault. I would rather not put myself out there and risk nothing, than to risk the pain that I just know will inevitably come. When it comes to making friends, sometimes it is because some people just can’t understand where I’m coming from. A lot of people see me as being negative, or stuck….even strange. I’m really glad that they just can’t understand where I’m coming from. That means that they haven’t experienced the hurt that I have, and that for the most part their lives have been happy. It is one of my deepest wishes that every child could grow up without having to feel that pain.

Why am I feeling the need to share my issues with you? If you know someone that has been abused, I want you to know that that adult you know and/or love still has that abused child somewhere inside of them. Their alarm ringers are always on high alert, which could make their world sound completely irrational to you. When they decide to give you their trust, there can be a battle raging inside of them for doing so. The best thing you can do for them is to listen. If they tell you they have issues in a particular area, please be sensitive to that. And just remember these lyrics from a Melissa Etheridge song, “…I could’ve been you, you could’ve been me. One small change that shapes your destiny…”

There is a new “Madrassa” some call it, academy others call it, public school in NY city that will teach the Arabic language and culture.  People are protesting, and saying it could be teaching religion and there are fears that it will be teaching a radical islamic agenda. I know there are many schools that teach all subjects in spanish, (my son went to one for 4 years).  Is this like that, or do you think that we have reason to be concerned?  Is America trying to create a place to breed future terrorists, or is America trying to teach children to understand the language and culture of the middle east?  What do you think?  Click here to read more about this story.


I’m sitting here feeling completely blown away.  I am a regular reader of  Today, I went to Rosie’s website, and saw the above picture, and spent a few moments remembering my own childhood, and the pretend games I used to play.  You remember those games don’t you? Digging to China, army, cowboy and Indians, cops and robbers.  It was nice to spend that moment remembering that part of my imagination that I don’t seem to have anymore.  A few  hours later I check back in with, and was amazed to read the comments that people wrote in response to this innocent picture.  I guess I’m a freakin’ moron, because the symbolism of the picture didn’t even cross my mind initially.  I see it now.  But my God people, give me a flippin’ break.  Apparently this picture of an innocent, beautiful young girl playing war with her brothers made TMZ and fox news for cryin’ out loud.

Meanwhile, more soldiers have died.  A mother and father’s little boy.  A mother and father’s little girl.  DEAD, GONE, NO LONGER WALKING ON THE FACE OF THIS EARTH.  And yet, this little girl playing make believe makes “news.”  What is the deal with that?  Can a mother not post a picture of her child on her blog playing a game?  What difference does it make what her mother’s politics are?

Children play games, they play dress-up.  They act out things that they are trying to make sense of.  From my experience with working with children, the parents who forbid their children from play fighting, playing guns, or any form of violent games raised children who were overly fascinated with those things as adults.  Lighten up people…and please, put your focus on the important things, like the heros fighting and dying in the real world!

Whew!  I feel better now.