Monday, July 31, 2006
Now, I was never one to complain about a party next door. I’m becoming one of those lil' old biddies that gripe about the fun other kids are having next door. But, this scenario was quite different. In fact, I enjoy it when I hear my young neighbors next door having fun, holding huge parties and listening to their music. Geez, but my age, my music taste should have changed by now, but I find myself relating to them more than I’d like to.
12am: Party is hoppin’, kids are talking amongst themselves and laughing. I love the sound of laughter—it’s the greatest thing.
1am: The party is starting to get louder. This time, there was no music, and it sounded as though there were much more people involved. Cars packed with kids coming into my driveway by mistake, were making my sensor flood lights wacky. Okay, whatever. Back to sleep for Deb. Obviously, it’s the wrong house.
3am: I hear a girl screaming bloody murder, as another girl was running down the road, screaming, “Help! Help her!” Then the next sounds were a bunch of guys chanting, “Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!” as the girl screamed her lungs out. I heard something banging constantly up against a car and loud screams still coming out of this one girl. Another guy screamed out, “F*** her harder!”
That’s when Deb calls the police. The sounds that I heard were the sounds of a girl getting raped—by numerous guys. It was disturbing and quite frankly, sick! I got the cops on the phone and explained to him what I heard. He could hear the commotion from my background, because I was close to my window. He sent a unit out to investigate. I kept my face near the window with my lights off.
Then I heard the patrol car pull up as kids ran as fast as they could through the woods onto MY yard!
“It’s the police! Run! Get out of here man!” One kid yelled out to all the others. I heard bushes being trampled on and the cop yelling, “Get back here!” as he ran after them. Then two more cop cars were called in. I was curious at this point, because now I had about thirty kids on my lawn, and cops trying to find them. Something was wrong. Something had to have upset the cops enough to really get their grips on these kids.
I called back into the police department inquiring about the status. The cop informed me that it was much more than thirty kids that were partying up there, and couldn’t release any information, unless I wanted to be interviewed as a witness—because something very serious had taken place. Of course I knew what it was, but I told him that I didn’t want to volunteer to be a witness. If what I “think” happened, indeed happened, then I will come out as a witness and help this girl. But the only thing is, I didn’t “witness” this. I “heard” what was happening.
When young boys get drunk in packs, you never know what can happen. I was afraid that they were going to decide to burglarize my house. My father walked outside to his truck, to make sure that none of his equipment was missing, and there was a kid hiding right behind it. When he asked the kid what he was doing—he immediately fled.
I hope to God that what I heard was wrong. But the screams from that girl still rings in my head. I’m keeping up with the reports in the paper and online, and checking if this girl presses any charges.
That was the excitement over here in my neck of the woods. Give a little moonshine to under-aged kids, and look what happens. Pure chaos.
Tonight, I’m sleeping with the windows closed and the a/c on. It’s gonna be a hot one this week.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Amy has been kind enough to lend me her laptop, until mine is repaired. She uses a Mac. I’m so lost on this thing. I’m opening up things I shouldn’t, and possibly popping up on all her friend’s messenger services. I didn’t think a computer could be so much different than another. I’d like to do a little “Mac bashing” right now, but I have to be a little more grateful that I’m sitting here typing anything at all. So thank you, Amy.
After trying to fix the bug myself (ha!!!) I finally brought it into the experts. They called me up today to tell me I forgot to give them the power chord to my laptop. Great. I can’t get there until tomorrow. Amy? Do you really need your computer this week?
So the weekend is here, and it’s hotter than hell. There’s absolutely nothing I want to do other than to stay inside in the a/c. Isn’t summer supposed to be about spending time outdoors and socializing? Then they say that the entire world is practically hot right now. How can that be? I can’t picture basking in the sun somewhere in Antarctica. It just doesn’t sit well with me. Just plop yourself on an iceberg somewhere and enjoy the rays. No.
What they were really trying to imply, is that the world is heating up. (Global warming) This is scary. Each year, I notice that we get more and more heat waves and more intense storms. “They say” we’re not taking care of our environment. This involves, getting rid of all motor vehicles, closing down plants and companies who produce chemicals for much needed products and possibly ride our bikes more. Carpooling I can totally understand. I hope Santa Claus doesn’t come floating down on some iceberg cursing all of us for ruining the environment. Eventually, everything is supposed to melt. That has to put some type of fear in you. Or will it be in our lifetime? That sounds self-centered, doesn’t it? As if I don’t care about others after I live… But it’s a valid question, no?
Here’s what gets me. They want us to be environment conscious, so they start making hybrid cars. Great. One problem… Most of us cannot afford these vehicles. I went to price two of the same cars out. One was a hybrid, and the other was a gas-driven car. The hybrid cost a lot more.
“They” want SUVs off the road. “They” fail to forget that some of us live up in the sticks up long mountainous driveways. In the winter, it’s like a cyclone. So 4x4 is imperative.
“Well, buy a small all-wheel car—they make smaller models than the one you drive…” “They” tell me. Well what about my cargo and the many things I pack for vacation? What about the tons of space needed to fit for my family and friends? What about the luxury I want? And if I’m don’t drive my big SUV, million other people will be passing me by in theirs.
I believe we built things to better our lives, without the knowledge of the consequences. Now the ozone is ripping at its seams and no one knows what to do anymore. Can we reverse it? Or does it just stay ‘as is’, if we just stop using everything we’ve ever known?
I see bad hair days in my future, if I have to stop wearing my Aqua Net to keep my curls in place. That’ll be one sad day.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Now don’t get me wrong, there were shopping plazas and other ‘civilization’ out there, but more farmland than anything. The owner of the complex showed us an open unit for rent. You know when you walk into a place, you immediately feel ‘home’? That’s how it was. I automatically knew that this was the one. This was the place I was going to put my feet up, have a martini or five, and get away from everything and everyone. I was ‘home’.
The décor was mostly a southwestern theme. The kitchen had a beautiful island with a bar on the other side, so you can place stools there. (Of course I’d want my place to look like a pub, right?) No, this was really nice, and it let your guests talk to you while you cooked in the kitchen. Everything was just perfect. We had our own laundry room—which is unheard of in an ‘apartment’ usually, and the bathroom had a vanity that any drag queen would gasp over!
I got a job working only four minutes from the condo complex. Talk about luck, huh? There was a large corporate park located minutes from this place, so I thought, “Why work an hour away?” I found an accounting job at Sorrento Cheese Company. Why not? The money was ~okay~, however it made up for what the commute would have done to me.
My first day of work, I came back home smelling like a dairy farm. Not only was this the corporate office, there was also the factory inside the building. The worst part of it was, I had to walk through the factory to head over to the controller’s office if I needed something, and/or if he needed me. The smell of stale milk from the vats dripping access milk out onto the floor was enough to make me gag. The milk would ferment in the same spot for months, and end up recreating itself as blue cheese. We only made mozzarella. Everyone scurried when the inspectors came in looking for cheesy errors.
Coming home was a treat, because I was terrified of my stalker boss, who was the controller of the accountant department. I’d come home practically in tears. He literally drained the life out of me. When you walked into his gloomy office, he had demonic statues all over the place, and gargoyles placed on each corner of his desk. Now, I do realize that gargoyles are to keep ‘evil spirits’ away, however, I never understood the Satan statues that stared back at me. Rick, my boss, would stare at me with his little beady black eyes until I would practically faint. Onen day, I fainted while on the phone with Madelene after hours when I was about to leave the office. Rick grabbed the phone and told Madelene I'd call her back. Some say that his 'staring technique' was something that was used in some Satanism practices. He did this when he was upset with me. His hair looked like a toupee gone wrong. It was blue/black with a gloss to it. He was very tall and lanky, and walked like Lurch.
His sexual innuendos flew too easily. They weren’t even innuendos, he would spew out some sick shit! One day, the president’s secretary heard wind of this, while I was walking out of Rick’s office. She heard many comments being said to me, but never told me she knew…until the day of our holiday office party.
It was month end, and Rick and I were stuck in his office trying to fix his $10,000 mistake on the budget. I was trying to be nice and help him out. He never did ANY work. All the work was done by me, fixed by me, and his mistakes were covered up by me. I peeked at his resume, and it clearly stated that the only job he had, was a nightshift controller at a Motel 6 somewhere. Not for nothing, but anyone out of high school could get that position.
Anyway, as soon as Madelene and I arrived to the restaurant that they were holding the “holiday party”, (have to be politically correct here) everyone swooped us into the other room, to make sure we was seated far away from Rick. Obviously, the hens had a little powwow in the office earlier that day. They were concerned for me, and thought I was going to leave my job. I assured them that he didn’t have that much control over me.
A filet mignon and four cabernets later, I was tearing up the dance floor with my coworkers. Madelene always fit right in—wherever she went. People just gravitate to her and she becomes ‘one of them’ instantly when she mingles. I was never concerned about bringing her anywhere with me, which was a relief.
A slow song came on, and a very handsome factory worker came up to me, and asked me to dance. I didn’t mind—neither did Madelene. It was fun, and I got to know him better. He was sweet. He grew up in Mexico and told me about his life getting here, to America and getting his legal papers. Sorrento Cheese was big on having everything done properly. They even gave applicants reading comprehension tests. It seems discriminative, but believe me, there were tons of applicants that came in not knowing how to read one word. They didn’t even speak the language, so how were they supposed to know the ingredients or replacements of the cheese mixtures? Even though it was a ‘factory job’, you had to be good with numbers and had to be able to read.
Rick shuffles over and asks the man if he could cut in. I could see everyone staring at us, as this was taking place. My coworkers would not let their eyes off me. They thought everything was under control. It wasn’t. I was now in the arms of Satan himself. Since he was taller than me, my head came up to his chest. He grabbed me so close--practically squeezing the air out of me, and he had his right arm swung around my head, keeping it against his chest real tightly. It was W*E*I*R*D! He wouldn’t let up with his vice grip. It kept getting stronger and stronger, until I scurried out of his arms.
“Are you alright? Did everything go okay?” My coworker asked me.
“No, I’m fine, I just need a drink.” They all hurried to get me something to calm me down, seeing how tense I was being in the grips of Satan.
Then the nightmare---he decides to mingle with me at the bar.
“Want a smoke?” He asks.
“Oh, no thank you, I quit…”
“Well, take it back up again, so we can go outside and talk.” He says, as he smiles with his little pointy teeth.
“No, really, I’m fine.”
“You know, you should report to my office much earlier than you do. You don’t respect me, do you?”
“Rick, I have to make sure the truckloads of milk that come in are accounted for by weight and trek them down to the lab to see if the bacteria levels are acceptable. Then I come straight into your office right afterwards. You know that.”
“Well it has to change, because I see a lot of mistakes being made.” He says, knowing that all the mistakes he made were obviously covered up by ‘me’.
“And who was the one who lost ten thousand dollars from the budget? If you had the balls to own up to your errors, maybe I would respect you more.” I said, now having the ‘balls’ myself to stand up to him. (The wine helps.) I have now reminded him of his HUGE oops.
“Oh, I have quite the handful. You should come find out, if you could just get into my office a little earlier. You can find out for yourself how big my balls really are...”
That was it. I stormed off with Madelene and went home. I couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. The very next day I reported to him…much later than he expected. He sat there with a contract for me to sign stating that I will never be late again, or I would be fired.
“Sign on the bottom please.” He says.
“Naw, I think I’d rather have you fire me.” I said, as I flung the contract back over to him.
“You’re not going to sign?”
“Nope. Fire me.” I said, really hoping he would. He starts laughing…but laughing hard. He almost sounded like one of those carnival haunted house voices that laughed continuously; making the hairs behind your neck stand.
“Mua-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!! Fine, you’re fired then! Ha-ha-ha-ha!” He said, joking around and laughing like a complete lunatic. He didn’t want me to go. He thought I would never leave. He needed me. He needed me to cover up for him. He needed me, because he needed his own job.
“Thank you so much,” I said, as I reached over to shake his hand, “it’s been such a pleasure to have worked with you!” I walked out, and went straight into the president’s office.
“Debbie!!! How nice of you to visit me! Come in, what’s going on?” He said, always greeting me with a smile. We were friends—he was one of the nicest guys I have ever come across.
“Well, Rick just fired me, so I wanted to say my goodbyes to you now.”
“WHAT?” He says, as his big blue eyes welled up with tears. His eyes automatically got bloodshot. I felt awful doing this to Bill.
“He can’t fire you!!! He has no authority to fire you!!! He has to consult with me first!!! This is outrageous and I want to have a meeting now!!!” He shouted loudly. I could see the blood vessels coming to the surface of his face.
“No, Bill, I have to go. It’s been awful what I’ve been going through. Just make sure the next girl who takes my place doesn’t get harassed by him, because you’ll have one law suit on your hands. I’m not the type to sue, I just leave.”
Bill gave me a big bear hug, and let me walk out of his office. Then there was Anne, the secretary. She was all ears. I’m surprised she didn’t have a cup up against the door to overhear things that went on in that office. She knew, because she had tears in her eyes. She didn’t say one word…and then ran over to me and hugged me. I was trying to keep my composure, because these people became my family. It was one of my favorite jobs, because I worked with my best friends. If it weren’t for Rick and his awkward behavior, I would have still been there today. I guess everything happens for a reason.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
I have this bad habit of looking things up online to find ‘what can be the problem’, when I’m fully aware that Madelene brought this nasty bug home from her stuffy office full of a hundred hens. Don’t even attempt to do this, without the thought of some wacky website trying to fill your mind with the possibilities of numerous diseases. This is so bad for an OCD driven hypochondriac like myself.
“OH MUY GAAWD! Mad---look! Look at what this says I might have!!!”
“Deb, you have a bug that I caught from work. It’ll pass…” She reminds me, in her calm, ‘everything’s gonna be alright’ voice. She’s probably ready to slit her wrists by the number of times I made her call the emergency room to ask the nurses questions. I do this when I’m sick. Not to just one hospital, but to several. My questions stem from, “How do you know when to take someone to the ER when they’re sick,” to “Am I gonna die???”
“Deb, do you want me to take you to the ER just to rest your head, and have them put electrolytes back into your system?”
“Well, if I’m going to the bathroom every two minutes, how am I going to last in the car?
“I’ll bring a bag, Deb.” Madelene says, all nonchalantly as if it were the norm.
“Yes, a bag.”
That has to be love if your partner/spouse is willing to drive you over to the emergency room while you crap a bag-o-tricks in his/her nice car. And she doesn’t even allow smoking! Can you imagine?
“Well what about the ambulance?”
“Deb, you’ll have to do the same thing, but they’ll have a receptacle for you to use. You’ll have to do that in front of people you don’t know.” Madelene reminds me of this awful thought.
"Forget it! I’ll die at home!"
So I decided to wait it out and just fight this monster of a bug, parasite or whatever was lurking inside my intestines. And please shut the hell up—those of you who know I went out for sushi last week. It is NOT a parasite! (Please God, please don’t let it be the sushi!!!)
It got worse. I was crapping out clear liquid. Nothing else. You know how they say if you see blood in your stool, to go to the emergency room right away? Forget about it. The amount of Gatorade (color red fruit punch) that I was chugging down was enough to fill New York’s water supply. Needless to say, it eventually turned red.
“OH MUYYY GAWWWD! I gotta go to the emergency room! I’m bleeding now! I’m going to die!”
“Deb, look at what you’re drinking. How many pints of that have you consumed to keep your electrolytes up? How much water did you have? Put two and two together…” Madelene says, as she lays there sick, and drained from…well….me.
Amy applied for the nurse position, (among many of you nice ladies out there---thank you!!!) and came over with tons of broth, white rice, and a gallon of Gatoraide. (This time the clear stuff.) She stayed with me for eight whole hours and made sure I was fully taken care of. What a girl! I just hope she didn’t catch the bug. She has a huge heart, and I love her for it! I even got a foot rub out of the deal! (Yes, Madelene if fully aware of this…) Thanks Amy!!!
Oh the third day it ended. No, I didn’t have a resurrection. I should have by the way I was going, but I ended up being okay. Three days without food. I was on the “BRAT” diet. (Bananas, rice, applesauce and toast.) I had to eat baby food, because I’m allergic to bananas and apples. This was the only way I was going to get this down. So, picture it: Me sitting on my couch, scooping out Gerber’s baby food watching the millionth Judith Light movie on Lifetime. Not a pretty picture.
I prayed, and prayed for this bug to go away, and God answered me. Thank you LORD!!! Those of you who have wished us well---thank you! Madelene has been fine for a couple of days, and I am now virus-free living outside the loo. Things are looking good!
Didn’t I say in the beginning paragraph, that I wouldn’t get into the gory details?
Saturday, July 22, 2006
But please check out Dawn's site called, "Queercents", as she interviewed my partner and I regarding our finances and current situation. It's a fascinating sight that deals with financial issues geared towards the GLBT communtiy.
Visit Queercents here!
Back to bed. It's 4:30 am here, I woke up shaky with a fever of 101... If you're interested in being my personal nurse, please leave your crudentials in my comment section. Thanks!
Thursday, July 20, 2006
(Sorry to the person who I know working in the dealership—but I had to let the public know about these shenanigans.)
Off to more important matters. Fish. I’m a huge fan of the Chilean sea bass. I love it. Think of it as a huge scallop, but in a non-shellfish form. It’s delicious, it’s scrumptious, and it’s fricken expensive as hell! Usually, when we go out to dinner, and that’s on the special for the evening, I will order that above anything else. It’s a nice, fluffy white fish that goes great with a nice pinot grigio or even five martinis!
The other day I found out something very upsetting that my friend emailed to me. (Thanks Lisa…for RUINING MY LIFE!!!) Okay, I’m done with my psychotic moment.
Not only is the name Chilean sea bass a fraud, but the fish itself is horrendously ugly. For the love of God---the fish doesn’t even come from Chili! It’s called “Toothfish”. You saw that right. “Toothfish.” It originates from Antarctica. Far from Chili, no? So how did the Chileans claim this fish? Did they farm them? Did they find some “Toothfish” in their neck of the seas?
The Chileans were the first ones to “market” the Toothfish in the United States, and was able to call it anything they wanted. Clever marketing? I think so. Not only do they have the public thinking that Chili has this amazing fish, but they are pushing one ugly fish around!
I have no problem eating animals or fish that are not so pleasant to the eye, but I had no idea that this fish looked like this! They look like piranhas—check out the choppers on this bad boy.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
When I was around sixteen, my adventures turned into wild parties. Summer nights, we would all gather around this big tower on top of the mountain at 8pm. We then made our way to the sandpits to build a huge bonfire. When the sun went down, it was always fascinating to drive through the woods while our bright headlights showed the way. There were always cases of beer strapped behind our quads. That was a given. We partied till hours of the night. It’s one of the best times I can remember.
On one particular evening, we headed out to a new place to party. We were bored of the same ol’ sandpit and needed different scenery. There was a trail that led into a huge circle. It was a dead end—you can almost say it was a woodsy cul-de-sac. We collected wood and twigs and made our bonfire big and strong. We sat around socializing, as other kids on their ATVs came zooming in for the fun. There were a few big rocks to sit on, as well as these steel pipe-like things coming out of the ground. It must have been a waterline or something.
Hours later, we saw flashing lights and heard loud sirens. We didn’t know what was going on. There must have been a fire brewing somewhere. It sounded like fire engines roaring through the nearby streets. We were pretty close to the neighborhood, but far enough where no one could see us. We didn’t think about the sound levels we echoed throughout the woods.
Moments later, we saw the fire trucks making their way towards us---through the tiny trail! The cops were right behind them as well. There must have been three fire trucks and a few cop cars. The firefighters immediately washed our beautiful bonfire out with one swipe of their hose.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
”What? What’s wrong?” One kid asked.
“This is a gas line! You kids could have blown up the entire neighborhood! Thank God one of the neighbors heard you all!” The firefighter screamed at us for the stupid stunt we pulled.
I have to say that it was a total buzz kill. I couldn’t believe we were so close to blowing up our own neighborhood. No one got charged or in trouble. We were all sent home and told not to come back out, or we would get arrested. The next day, the trail was blocked off with huge boulders and chains. They attached signs to it warning people of trespassing. I’m just glad I got out of there alive.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
When you’re in the spotlight like Oprah Winfrey, it’s hard to get away from paparazzi who will publish absolutely anything and everything they can get their hands on. It’s a huge business for the tabloids to receive incoming news of someone ‘coming out of the closet’ or some big star having a hot steamy affair. It not only hit tabloids and other ‘entertaining smut magazines’, but it has also trickled into the news.
They first speculated Oprah was gay just because she made an appearance on The Ellen DeGeneres Show. Come on, is that ridiculous or what? Many celebrities have appeared on Ellen, but it doesn’t mean that they are homosexuals.
“Since my appearance on the Ellen show, there have been rumors circulating that I'm gay. I've addressed this on my show, but the rumor mill still churns...The latest development in the rumor saga is that I'm supposed to be doing a coming-out interview with a major news magazine. I'm not." ~Oprah
Rumor has it that Oprah’s lover is her dear friend of thirty years. They’re like sisters. They’re together a lot, so they pinned Oprah's old friend to be ‘the lover’. Even if Oprah was gay, in my personal opinion, I feel she should just leave that to anyone’s imagination. Let them run wild with the rumors and have fun with it.
Sometimes, when a well known celebrity comes out of the closet, they lose a lot of their fans for many reasons. Some may have radical Christian views, others feel that they’ve been lied to, and some are homophobic and can’t fathom such a thought as their ‘idol’ being gay.
When Ellen first came out of the closet, not only did she lose many fans, but she even lost her show on NBC. It was sad to see her go, but her role on the television show she appeared in was a ‘straight woman’. Now, you may disagree with me, but she came out at the wrong time. People were relating to her, and there are many people who treat television as ‘their real world’.
If someone is an aspiring actor or actress, be yourself, and act whatever role you’d like. Just don’t expect to play the straight guy and walk out of the closet years later with a big surprise for everybody. The entire world isn’t going to agree with you. Remain quiet if the secret of being gay has been silent for this long.
Inquiring minds wanna know...
Ladies: Would you lose respect for Brad Pitt or Colin Ferrell if they decided to come out with the big news that they’re gay?
Guys: Would you lose respect for Angelina Jolie or Charlize Theron if they came out as lesbians? (I know I would be thrilled to know if Charlize was gay! Although it may mean I have a snowball's chance in hell getting her to go out with me...)
Monday, July 17, 2006
“Smog alert! Please drink lots of water and check on the elderly in your buildings and/or neighborhoods! Also, try not using your air conditioning so we can conserve electricity!”
What? Turn OFF our a/c units? Are you out of your fricken mind? We’re sweating bullets up in our apartments, and the newscaster has the audacity to advise us to conserve electricity. Okay, let me go and shut a light off! For the love of God, it’s a sauna in here!
It always makes me chuckle when the weatherman says, “We got a hot one in store for you! It’s gonna feel like pea soup out there!” Ick. Need I say more? I had to cancel all my appointments and call it a day.
“But Deb, your car is air conditioned and wherever you go, it should be cool inside…” See, I have this irrational fear that somehow, someway, I’m going to pass out and die. It’s even worse than my agoraphobia. It all happened when I was getting out of the gym about two summers ago. It was reaching 95 degrees, and I was nice and cool indoors working out. I was drinking water here and there, but not hydrated enough. Usually, right after my workout, I just jump in my car, and head home to shower. My OCD goes WILD in gym bathrooms—so there is no hope for me washing up in those shower stalls knowing how many people have athlete’s foot, or some other fungus lurking on those floors. Yeah yeah, I know, buy those idiotic looking rubber shoes. No.
So I walk out of the gym and really felt the heat. Keep in mind I’m still sweating from a long two hour workout. I get in my stifling car and head home. I kept feeling dizzy, and my eyes were getting blurry. Thank God I made it home, because I collapsed in the doorway. I had to lie down, drink water and Gatorade and then put my feet up. It was the worse feeling ever! So that’s the reason for my madness. I refuse—and I say---refuse to go out in this disgusting heat. I’m bound to wind up in Maine somewhere laughing at all these hot and sweaty New Yorkers do their thing. I can only imagine how my southern friends out there must feel.
Nights are fine. I can deal with nights. I just can’t deal with ‘having lunch’ out with a friend during this time, or sitting in their hot box apartments drinking alcohol. I can’t even eat when it’s this hot--no less drink alcohol. (Can you imagine—ME not drinking alcohol?) Okay, so I lied.
Yesterday Madelene and I enjoyed a couple of bloody marys and lunch out on our deck. We usually have Sunday and Mondays off to spend together. Today, we are actually going to sit inside conserving absolutely no energy with our air conditioning cranked up until we have ice cycles hanging off our chins. Martinis are definitely in the forecast for today along with a nice, cool crisp salad...or maybe a pizza. We promise to check up on the elderly. That...we can do.
I can’t wait till fall comes around!
Sunday, July 16, 2006
I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote, and not one comment. I never knew people were reading my stuff until I put a sitemeter on. I started visiting other blogs, and realized that there were many talented writers pouring their hearts out. I had to comment, because some of the material I read out there was just amazing. I always thought having a ‘personal diary’ online, was sort of juvenile; something a teeny-bopper would do. Blogging opened my eyes up to a whole new world of amateur and professional writing.
I’ve met so many wonderful people through this forum, and I have read some incredible experiences that others go through. I was quite surprised of how many people shared such intimate details of their life. Then I started doing it myself. Stories regarding my family’s history, (which I needed permission from, unless I wanted to get thrown into the Hudson River with two cement shoes on…) stories that focused on my horrific time in the dating pool, as well as personal feelings regarding certain things in particular in a subliminal manner. (Meaning it was directed at 'someone'…but it wasn’t in ‘black and white’…)
A lot of you stuck with me as I raved on like a lunatic with topics that ranged from religion, to lesbianism, to mafia related stories, as well as my feelings for my partner. You’ve stuck by me even when I was going through my depressive and manic phases, as well as my PMS days. You heard all about my phobias, my OCD, my anxiety attacks and listened to me as I ranted on like a freak on speed.
Your comments helped me through some difficult times. Your encouraging words kept me moving forward; seeing things in a different light. I’ve never met such intelligent and compassionate people. It’s rare to find those two ingredients in a lot of folks.
So this post is dedicated to all my readers, my lurkers, as well as all the friends I made in person through this blog. This also goes out to those who had different views and beliefs who challenged me to the very end—you let me see a different side of the spectrum, which is always a wonderful thing. I let you into my life...and you let me into yours.
Thanks for a great year!
Friday, July 14, 2006
“I thought I put two ahead on the top shelf here…” The owner mumbles.
“No, it’s that big haired girl sitting in the corner with her fifth martini, Bob.” The bartender says, as he glares over at me to see if I’m still ‘upright’ on my stool.
Naw, it’s not that bad. I’m just stressed out like anybody else—but I somehow seem to manifest it in different ways. They always say never tell what your anxiety attack symptoms are like, because chances are, people who listen to you will develop the same things. So I’m not going to list any symptoms or what I go through. Let’s just say it’s the old fashioned panic attack that plagues me lately.
Deb needs a solution. Deb seeks Reiki treatments. Don’t ask me why I’m writing like a nursery school book here. Reiki treatments are weird for some---and a healing experience for others. Reiki is an old fashioned way of releasing negative energy and pouring ‘white light’ into your system to drain all the bad stuff out. It’s done with a very light touch. It’s not a massage. The person who performs Reiki on you has to ‘believe’ in a higher power, and simply generates his/her energy from “God”, into you. The last time I had Reiki, my back was out. I went to chiropractors all over. Then one chiropractor suggested I do a fifteen minute Reiki session with his friend. His friend was this older lady who did this. My back was healed---instantaneously.
So let me just tell you about this bizarre experience I had yesterday at the spa where I went to get this treatment. Now keep in mind there’s a bunch of hot little numbers walking around in practically nothing, with new trendy hair styles and big clunky wedged sandals. Everyone has long colorful nails and is up to date with anything that has to do with style. The entire place is spewing out with gossip, laughs and a ton of, “Oh muy GAWD! You’re hair looks fabulous!!!” People are shuffling all over, cleaning up and preparing for their next beauty-to-be.
I walked into the place well aware of the busyness that this spa generates. And no, not only ‘business’, but the ‘busyness’. I walked up to the counter to let them know I arrived. Then I see this woman approaching me. Oh she was much different from the rest of them. She stood out like Marilyn Manson in a church choir.
I wish I had a picture. I can only explain the best I could here. This lady approaches me with long gray hair down to her hips. It’s pulled back by two barrettes. She has to be in her early 50’s to late 80’s. I know, it’s a huge age span, but this woman exuded weird exotic health. Don’t ask me what “weird exotic health” means, it’s the first thing that came to mind. She wore this long flowing gypsy-like dress that fell to her ankles. (No, her dress didn’t fall off---it was just very long.) I noticed she was barefoot. Lovely. Her body frame was frail and delicate, and her gait was full of love and peace; much like a hippy from the 60’s. She had a face of an eighty year old and a body of a twenty-five year old. It was a weird combo. My imagination drifted off. I thought, imagine if I saw her from behind and said, “Wow that chick has a nice body,” and then she turns around to reveal her face--and to my surprise it’s this corpse-looking face staring back at me. It reminded me of some sort of Creepshow segment back in the eighties.
So she walks up to me, and gently takes my hand to shake it.
“Hi, I’m Yehu Walkdeavalleyodeth. I will be your Reiki master today” As she bows down to me. (That’s not her name, I can’t remember it, but it was something like that-- probably given to her from some spiritual master.)
“Oh hi, I’m Deb.” I said back, in this “earthly” not so spiritual tone.
She guides me in this tiny little room that should only fit one person. I was getting claustrophobic and my anxiety was increasing.
“Here, sit on the table as I tell you more about Reiki.” She said in this calm, hypnotic voice. Her calmness almost scared me a little. She looked at me as though she could read my mind. She explained the treatment to the full extent and basically overloaded my brain with a bunch of hocus-pocus gibberish that I didn’t understand. I was willing though.
She laid me on the table on my back with my eyes closed. She put on some new age Japanese music to soothe me. She begins to perform Reiki, as I felt the warmth from her hands on my head. She goes from the head down to the feet to release any negative energy. I can literally smell her diet. It must consist of tree bark, herbs, garlic and someone’s lawn. She was a total vegan—you can just tell. I didn’t care, I was in her care and I was in the state of relaxation.
Apparently there was a room next door that had people in there mixing hair colors and breaking open new packages for whatever. It was loud---and it was quite a distraction. I felt the Yehu’s agitation through her energy now. I begin to feel her anxiety increasing—which made my anxiety go up. This wasn’t good. Deb needed a martini…bad!
I feel Yehu get up quietly (as if I didn’t know she left) and walk into the other room whispering pleas of peace and quiet. I knew that’s what she was doing. I was glad she did.
It didn’t stop there.
“For real? GET OUT! No way! Oh muy GAWD she’s dating him?”
“Oh and you have to see the car he drives---out..rag...eous!!!
This is what we’re hearing from the front desk. It was penetrating our very small closet-like room into a pounding drum full of cheap gossip. Once again, I feel Yehu tense up…which ultimately made me tense up, since she was pouring out her energy into my body. Great. I need my meds now.
“Deb Pasquella? Oh yeah, she’s in the other room getting Reiki done. Come back later if you want!”
Huh? Who the hell is requesting ME at a spa? When Yehu heard this, I felt her tension once again. She saw my eyes open, due to hearing my name being blurted out at the front desk full of hens.
After the forty-five minutes were up, I sat up and she looked at me with this ‘incomplete stare’. I knew she wasn’t satisfied with her work. She was distracted, and so was I. There was an awkward silence. I had to break it.
“Thank you so much! I feel so relaxed!... Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” She says, in this calm, tranquil voice.
“Do you practice this on the side, and if so, can I make an appointment with you somewhere else?”
“I was going to suggest that. Here, take my number. I’m located at the Shabahaba.”
The Shabahaba is a CULT! It’s a commune full of spiritual wackos running around with no shoes on. (Of course I had to change the name of the commune in fear that one of these ladies practice witchcraft of some sort.) Then again, looking back at this Reiki master of mine, I can totally picture her with a black pointed hat and a –oh forget it... Why burden myself with bad karma? I’m so doomed by writing this post in the first place.
I gave her a very generous tip and headed out to pay the overpriced fee for what the spa charges. I walked over to meet my cute little manicure girl. She was waiting for me with my favorite color and a smile. I sat down and began to relax, as the cute little manicurist massaged my hands and made them look as cute as can be.
I start looking out the window and notice Yehu is waiting for a ride. She’s walking around the parking lot and making a lot of spiritual movements. I have no clue how to explain this- but she looked as though she was reaching out to the Gods praying in the midst of people coming in and out of this busy section trying to get a parking spot. I sort of got scared for her. What was she doing? Is she okay? Was she upset over the distractions the spa created for her? Were all her negative energy in ME now?
Finally a car picked her up and drove her back to the Shabahaba. I was relieved that someone grabbed her before the cops did.
Later on that evening, Amy came over and we headed over to this beautiful Japanese restaurant to have sushi. It was her first time eating sushi—and she liked it! She always emphasized on her blog to never, ever ask her to try sushi. Well, I succeeded! And now she has a new item to put on her menu of favorites. As we’re drinking sake and enjoying our dinner, the Japanese music that was playing in the background reminded me of Yehu.
I wonder if she’s okay…
Thursday, July 13, 2006
“Well, he’s totally stuck on himself and has baggage. You just got out of a relationship like that. Why do you want to put yourself back in the same place you were?”
“But Suzy, you haven’t even met him yet, and besides, everybody has their own issues to deal with. No one’s perfect.” Jessie says, as she tries to figure out why Suzy is trying to convince her that her new boyfriend has red flags sticking out of his ears.
Our friends are there for us. They should be more accepting and have an opened mind when it comes to their friend finally finding someone special. It’s safe to say that Suzy probably has some concerns due to what Jessie told her about him. So he has a little baggage, an ex-girlfriend who doesn’t stop stalking him, or some sort of emotional baggage that hasn’t been dealt with. Fine. But who’s to say that Jessie can’t handle this on her own? Why do people constantly butt into other people’s lives?
Take Suzi. She has been dating on and off and finding Mr. Wrong on the internet for years now. She hasn’t stuck with one. Suzie will date them for a few months, and realize they have a ‘problem’ or ‘issue’ and totally detach herself from them—and eventually dumping the poor souls. That’s her prerogative, right? Sure it is. What isn’t her prerogative is that she tells other people what to do with their lives. That’s just wrong and self-centered. If the guy was a serial killer or had some ‘dangerous’ issues to contend with, then I can see her concern. There are exceptions.
In Suzi’s case, she may have a touch of logorrhea…which to me is another word for diarrhea of the mouth. These people love to hear themselves talk. They’ll constantly gossip and tell ‘secrets’ about things that aren’t supposed to be aired out. These are the types of people you need to watch out for in my opinion. When someone talks way too much, they lose all credibility with me, especially when spewing other people’s own personal business. And right now, I am changing names because I am doing just that—spewing other people’s business. It’s different, isn’t it? Isn’t it???
Everybody and their mother has their idiosyncrasies, peccadilloes, issues, problems, dramas, etc. --- whatever you want to call it... Why be so judgmental when you have your own plate of problems to chow down on? I find it amusing sometimes listening to someone constantly harping on someone else’s business. You get three or more women involved and it becomes a complete henhouse! I should video tape my three sisters and mother talking over cocktails one day. Now that’s a sight! Sorry guys—had to add you in there!
People mean well. I know they do. But people can’t help but gobble up on the juicy gossip or give their two cents on what they think others should do.
So say Jessie decides to dump this guy because of Suzie’s assumption? Jessie is totally in love with him, but now scared because Suzy has pointed out some problematic patterns.
What do you think?
A. Jessie will resent Suzi in some way or form?
B. Jessie will be unhappy and miss the guy she was dating who had a few problems here and there?
C. Jessie will have a mind of her own and continue to date the man she chose?
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
We do things for people for what? For love, right? Or we do things for people out of motives? What motives do you have when you go out of your way for someone? Things that have been debated and thought about baffle your mind. Sometimes you don’t even know if it’s out of love, or if it’s out of some motive that you’re trying to accomplish. The two get easily confused; much like love and lust. How do you decipher which is the 'true love’ aspect of it all. Does lust turn into love? Love hardly ever turns back into lust—unless some wacky sex counselor gives you some freaky advice.
With love, you’re willing to take those quixotic steps to try to make your partner as happy as he/she could be. You would jump through hoops for them. The one thing that is different than the good deeds done without motives is---you don’t expect anything back in return. You do it so that other person can feel comfortable and happy.
Motives are usually hidden . They’re hard to pin out. If you’re open-minded enough and have a tinge of intuition going on in that little noggin of yours, you can truly determine what people are up to. I had a friend once tell me, “Deb, pray that the motives of the person you’re dealing with comes to the light and reveals itself.” I did this. I took my friend’s advice. I prayed and meditated on it. The next day, my friend’s motives were revealed as plain as day. Nothing she has ever done was out of ‘love’; it was pure motive-related.
Especially if you’re in a high end position career-wise. Do you notice people around you? Do you notice special treatments and behaviors being swooned your way by co-workers and employees? What are their motives? A promotion? A ‘good word’ to the big cheese? Or simply to just rub shoulders with those who can ‘do things’ for you.
It’s one thing to be venerated by those who surround you. But it’s another thing when people take full advantage of the position you’re in to simply get from point A to point B to make their lives better. It’s not fair, but it’s human nature.
Making a conscious effort in trying to analyze each person’s motives can get extremely exhausting. We should live life to its fullest and let people do their thing. I don’t insinuate that you should make yourself out to be a door mat, but be alert and know when someone is using you.
I was flummoxed once by the mindset and motives of someone I thought very highly of. We were personal friends and began pursuing an intimate relationship a long time ago. She was an enigma. I couldn’t figure her out. Why should we try to figure out the motives of the people we ‘love’? It’s sad sometimes, but it’s the truth. We all have to be careful—even with those we love.
You can tell I have trust issues just by reading this post. I guess from experience and many disappointments, I come to realize that people will always disappoint us. God will never. I rely on God to guide me to people who are trustworthy. Sometimes He’ll put a complex and mysterious person in my path to learn a certain lesson. So with that, I’m fully aware that we are all here for the ‘experience’ of life; to ride through the journey so we can learn as much as we can—even if it is through other people’s behaviors.
They say our past is what makes us who we are ‘now’. I believe that. I feel if I hadn’t gone through the turmoil with my past relationships, my union between my partner and I would have failed years ago. There are certain characteristics that change within us when we learn more about the people in our lives now, and the people in our lives from the past. Compare each one and figure out where you want to be. Never mourn for the past to be present again, because it was all completed for a reason. There’s no use to rehash what’s been revealed and destroyed. We should be able to move on and be happy with what we have now.
Why flirt with the idea of hypothetical questions? What if we could turn back time and do it all over again? I believe destinies and paths taken would crumble before our eyes and revisit those hurtful traumas of the past that we simply put on the back burners of our minds. Do you really want to revisit that time when you were hurt so badly? Do you want to reopen the wounds that left you in pain for many years? Or have you simply forgotten that it was traumatic for both parties involved?
And yes, to answer your question, the grass always looks greener. It’s Satan’s way of saying, “Come out and play!”
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Where the heck did this guy get his degree? No cognitive behavior therapy, no reverse psychology crap maneuvered and no questions asked regarding the situation at hand. During the 45 minute session, this man picked up his phone at least three times. I fell asleep during one of his drawn out conversations and he had to wake me up.
He stared at me for a good long while, and then asked, “How’s your love life?” I didn’t respond to it, after I had told him about the numerous amounts of anxiety attacks that plagued me and the depression that always seemed to follow afterwards. So to really see how good of a doctor he was, I tested him.
“Doc, I don’t wanna live anymore.” As I cried into my tissue about other things, peeking back at his face to see if there were any human-like expressions.
Nothing. Nada. He stared at me like a deer in headlights. So I took it a step further.
“I had a revolver in my mouth doc, I was about to end it all, but talked myself out of it. I still have those feelings though. What should I do?”
“Well, what’s giving you the anxiety?” He asks as he fumbles through his schedule book looking for some important piece of paper. Did he have a script he was supposed to read off of? ‘In case of emergency, read this to them!’
Aren’t psychiatrists & psychologists supposed to help in some way? It’s not just an ‘ear’ I need. I need a professional to help me get out of this anxiety-filled pattern so I can live a normal life. I want to walk into a large supermarket without getting tunnel vision or flipping out over the millions of voices coming from every aisle. (No, not my head!) I want to go to bed at night and not have my throat feel as though it’s closing up on me. I’m up late at night trying to sooth myself to sleep.
“Well do you have a friend or family member that’s close to you that you can talk to?" Doc asked me.
“Umm, this is why I’m here…?” I said, in this sarcastic tone trying to figure out what the hell he’s doing in this occupation anyway.
I had to think fast. I had to figure out a way to solve my problem with doc. I needed help, not a dead corpse sitting in front of me. I needed someone with a pulse who is able to give me the care I need. This wasn’t it. This doctor let me walk out of his office knowing that there was a potential risk of me taking my own life.
I found my solution ‘for now’. I started a work out routine and I’m back at the gym. I also started getting Reiki treatments and I am a regular again at the spa I used to go to. The do everything from manicures/pedicures to deep tissue massages. This Thursday is my manicure and facial treatment which is followed by a Reiki session. I cannot begin to tell you how relaxing this is. For the same amount of money I pay to see my zombie doctor, I spend it on getting pampered---and I even look better when I walk out the door.
I’m dropping doc this week. Wish me luck!
TO THE DOCTORS IN THE HOUSE:
This post is written to also get advice to the psychiatrists who read my posts as well. (You know who you are...) Drop me an email or comment to let me know what your thoughts are on this. He literally let me 'walk out the door' without getting the men in the white coats after me. Is this normal? Even though it was just a test and I knew what his response would be, I'm just worried about the people who really do want to take their lives and go to see him about it. Is there anything I can do to report him or maybe keep the place he works at informed? Or is that a bad move on my part? I need advice!
Monday, July 10, 2006
Insecure people jump into conclusions and try to analyze something that’s not there; in hopes to destroy a potentially good thing. Why are they so concerned with other people’s business? They’re not happy in their own milieu, so they have to squish their nose into the lives of other’s.
If one’s secure with themselves as a person, this will have no effect upon their feelings or thoughts about the one who’s getting the condemnation and attack. Just blow it off, live your life—because your life is ‘that’ interesting enough that people love to give into the drama and fiasco of trying to alter it in some way. Be strong, because your life is your own; you’re independent, beautiful, intelligent and most of all, in tune with yourself.
I love your ebullient nature; the way you carry yourself and the way you’re able to discuss your inner-self with me. Me! Why am I so lucky? You put your trust in me. Your honesty is overwhelming, and your love for your friends and family speaks well beyond whatever anybody can tell you…to try to bring you down.
People focus way too much on the past, and way too much on the future. They forget about the most important thing…the "present moment". Look up, don’t look down and don’t look behind you. Look straight ahead and “in the moment”, because that’s the person I come to cherish!
Friday, July 07, 2006
From what I've learned in my own experience, every ten years it gets different. For example, when I was fifteen years old, I would be working all week at the Chinese restaurant down the road in the summertime. They would paid me $4 bucks an hour off the books. That was fine. I took whatever cash they gave me on Friday and headed out to chip in for that keg of beer. We would head off with the older kids and go to a remote place to build a bonfire and drink our brew. I know I was young, but everyone was doing it. Blame it on peer pressure.
When I was twenty-five years old, I had my first apartment with my girlfriend. We were strapped for cash most of the time so we could pay our bills. My Friday nights were a little different. I would run to the bank, go grocery shopping and make dinner for Madelene when she got home from work. I looked forward to it. When we had extra cash on us, we would head out to happy hour and grab the free wings and $2.00 Coronas from 5-7pm. You really had to drink a lot within those two hours to get your money’s worth.
Now that I’m thirty-two years old, I find myself enjoying Friday nights at home barbecuing, spending time with friends and family at one another’s houses or simply going out to a nice restaurant to unwind. Sometimes when I find myself sitting at a bar in the midst of the ‘happy hour rush’ full of people coming home from their mechanic’s job, construction site or strolling in straight from the accounting office--I often wonder if they have the option to go home and have a nice barbeque with their loved ones. Is this it? Is this their final stop? Does their weekend go on? I always wonder about each individual and how their life is. How do they spend their weekends, and who do they spend their weekends with? Sometimes I see men walk into the bar all alone and throw back a few beers not saying one word to anyone. They just stare at the ballgame and drift off into space. Do they have a wife at home?
How do you unwind after the hard week---whether you’re a stay at home mom, a banker, salesperson or the CEO of a corporation?
Enjoy your weekend! I'm outa' here till Tuesday.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Your thoughts are racing and your heart thumps a little louder. It’s like a scene in a horror movie where the naïve girl starts walking into the basement when she hears a little bump in the night. The music starts slow, the beat sounds like a heart. Ga-thump…Ga-thump…Ga-thump! She opens the door to the basement and heads down the stairs. Ga-thump, ga-thump, ga-thump, ga-thump! The music suddenly gets louder; the thumping gets more intense and faster. Ga-thump-ga-thump-ga-thump-ga-thump!!! And then—silence... No music, no ga-thumpins’; just dead air. The room gets darker and then out of nowhere…AHHHHHHHH!!!
It’s Dani holding a bible waiting for you to pray with her.
“Come, let us pray.” Dani says, in a low comforting voice.
“What are you doing down here?” The naïve girl says.
“I’m here to guide you and direct your path. I want to help you get saved from the monster lurking down here in your basement.”
“Oh wow. Thank you Dani!” The naïve girl says, as she sits down next to her.
“I want to be your friend and make sure that you don’t stumble down here not knowing the consequences.” Dani explains.
“You’re so caring, wow, thank you! I didn’t know I had a monster down here.”
“Oh naïve girl, but you do…you do,” Dani says, as she places both hands on the girl’s hand, “we’ll beat this thing together because I love you in Christ.”
The naïve girl starts feeling at ease. Her fear has subsided and her heart is now open. Dani lights a candle, and they both start praying together.
“Dear Lord, please forgive the sins of this naïve girl. Please place within her a new heart, with new right desires. Give her the strength to walk away from this fruitless life, and give her life full of purity. Instill wisdom and understanding so that this naïve girl here can walk the ‘straight’ path, and find her way to you, Lord Jesus. Please bless her, as she’s about to leave her heathen ways and stop spreading evil around the world… Make her less accepting of everybody around her, because they are all evil little heathens too, doing anything they want at any given time. Stop making this naïve girl so loving. Maker her strong and fight against acceptance!“
Dani’s face starts crinkling up in anger, but she goes on…
“Take away her thoughts of love for another human being and replace it with a 'robot-like Stepford wife type' love. Make it conditional, unlike what the Corinthians teach. Let her condemn those who are different from her! Let her be the arbiter of righteousness! Let her judge those around her and give her plenty of stones…for she’ll need them due to the evil nature of this world... In Jesus’ name, amen.”
The naïve girl looks up and glares at Dani’s candlelit face. She looks so angelic, so beautiful and so full of enlightenment. The naïve girl could feel the change within her. Could it be the Holy Spirit? Could it be the power of Dani’s mighty words? She must have a direct connection to God himself! What a true revelation this is!
“Thank you Dani, I have seen the light.”
The naïve girl starts heading up the basement stairs. She opens the door and heads into the living room where her lesbian lover awaits her to watch a movie.
“Where did you go sweetie? I made some popcorn for you. Here, come sit with me!” The lesbian lover says, as she pats the couch a few times.
“DECIEVER! LEAVE NOW!” The naïve girl starts screaming.
“Honey, are you feeling alright? Here, let me take your temperature and make you some hot tea.” The lesbian lover says with concern in her voice.
“Get out! If you love me you will leave me!!! HEATHEN! GET OUT!” The naïve girl starts chanting as if she was giving an exorcist to draw this evil spirit away.
“I’m so sorry. I know you’re going through a lot of stress sweetie. What can I do for you? Tell me how I can make you feel better? Do you need a hug? Do you need some comforting?”
“YOU’RE NOT A CHRISTIAN! YOU’RE A SPAWN OF SATAN! GET OUT NOW! EVIL SPIRITS BE GONE! You’re a HOMO!!!” The naïve girl screams out. Her face red and blotchy from the anger and hate coming from inside of her.
The lesbian lover packs up her things and she leaves as tears run down her cheeks. She tried everything to show how unconditional her love was. She heads out the door into the car and drives away. Her tail lights fade in the distance. The night was cold and dark. The naïve girl sat there alone, watching the rest of the movie she planned to view with her partner. The popcorn sat there, getting cold, and sounds of the tea kettle whistles throughout the living room coming from the kitchen. Her tea was ready. She grabs some popcorn and eats it. It didn’t taste as good as it would if her partner was here sharing it with her. She decides to walk into the kitchen and pour herself a cup of tea. She put extra honey in it and a squirt of lemon—like her partner used to make it. Sadly enough, it didn’t taste the same. It was bland.
The house was so quiet, it was almost deafening. She had a funny thought about something that happened to her earlier that day, but realized she had nobody to share it with. She sat there and focused on the movie. A funny scene came on, and the naïve girl started laughing and chuckling, “Ha-ha-ha!!! Wasn’t that funny?” Then she forgot, there was nobody to laugh with any longer…nobody to talk to.
The naïve girl lit a candle, and started to pray to God by herself.
“Dear Lord, I thought this life would be a happier life. Dani reassured me that this is the right path to take. Tomorrow is Sunday morning and I have no one to go to church with, and I have nobody to pray with and share the joys of what you have done for me. I’m lonely God, and I feel abandoned; yet I made this all happen by telling my partner to leave. Dear God, I don’t want to be eaten up by the monster in the basement. Dani said that if I choose this road, that the monster would go away, and you would help me. She said that this life is a better life. Dear Lord, please hear my prayer and help me! I’ve hurt the one person who takes care of me, who helps me, who loves me unconditionally and who puts you first before anyone.”
The naïve girl sits and waits. She meditates and remains silent. Then she hears a voice…
“Naïve girl, I love you with all my heart. I love you more than anybody else can ever love you. I want to see you happy and live an abundant life full of love here on this earth. I know your heart, and I know your motives—they are of good—not of evil. The only monster in that basement is Dani. Now call your partner up and apologize. Enjoy the movie, enjoy your popcorn and tea, and most of all, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow morning in my house of worship. I love you...God.”
I encourage you to read through Christine's post as well as the comments. Click here!
Monday, July 03, 2006
This is the view from our deck. We over look the lake and mountains which is gorgeous--of course at night you can't see it well. The firework display was pretty neat considering we didn't have to sit on a huge lawn with tons of people. Each year we always sit on our deck with a nice bottle of wine and watch the display. They do this all week long. This actual display is one of the 'smaller' ones. But the main reason why I took this video was just for the sound -- listen to these people down below woo'ing and screaming at each little puff that goes off. It's too funny. They were like these little village people cheering on each explosion.
Happy 4th of July!!!