Living Proof

Yesterday afternoon, Madelene and I went to go to the farm to pick out our Christmas tree. Y'all know me better than to think that I chopped it down myself. (I have no idea why I got all southern on y'all.) It was really nice though, because we walked through the rows of firs, wreaths and homemade ornaments that were so beautiful. There were a ton of assorted Christmassy lanterns hanging up above in various colors that lit up the long outdoor aisles. At the end of the row, I noticed a very large wreath that had homemade red roses made out of nylon or some sort of similar material. It also included large metal rods that were meant to be placed into the ground of someone's graveside. In the middle of the wreath it said, "DAD". I instantly got a lump in my throat and my eyes started to well up with tears. When Madelene finally caught up with me, she looked down and then looked up at me. "Get it, Deb..." I couldn't speak. If I were to try, I'd

It's a gloomy Sunday afternoon and I'm stuck home because I decided to do a "cleanse" yesterday morning that should have lasted approximately 5-8 hours. Unfortunately, that's still not the case. You can slap a big "TMI" over this post, but it is what it is. Needless to say, I've been online a lot. I mean, more than I have ever been online -- between Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, whatever-gram -- it's been interesting. We put a lot out there, don't we? From our obsessions with independent films to our fixations on borderline racially motivated politics -- we kinda' get the gist of what makes our friends and acquaintances 'tick'. And you certainly get your share of reading about my twisted life and views, as well as an overabundance of Lola. And now, you get to learn about my clogged up pipes, which is why I'm writing on a Sunday afternoon. I shouldn't be sitting in my office right now. I was supposed to pick up a new fauc

If I had to say one thing about my friends, I would definitely consider them to be my chosen family. When I bring someone into my life -- or better yet -- when someone chooses to spend their time with me, I never take it for granted. Just like a relationship, I always try to seek out a lifetime friend. Of course you're either going to get 'for a reason, a season or a lifetime' -- and that's okay. People that come into our lives are meant to either teach us a lesson, to help us in times of trouble or to simply make you laugh and smile for however long. And as we grow older, that whole "BFF" thing sort of takes a left turn to Albuquerque. It's okay to have that once a month friend (and no I'm not referring to Flo), and it's okay to pick up where you left off after 6 months of not seeing one another. I have friends that I haven't seen in almost a year, where I can talk to them this very minute and it feels like just yesterday. That's what I

Christianity. That word alone sends shivers down our spines. Christianity. There's a sense of fear and avoidance to it. Christianity. There's a tinge of anger and hostility, perhaps a lot in some cases. Christianity. People flee from the "Christian life" to live a life free from judgmental holy rollers with big bibles to thrash around. They highlight their cherry picked scriptures in their sacred holy books, without noticing the black and white texts to which describe their own lives. The only word that they see is HOMOSEXUALITY. They grab a hold of it and bash the people in the next pew for loving a person of the same gender. However, they never complain about being a divorcee with a new spouse. Isn't that...adultery? They never once mention how they love seafood (crustaceans of the sea which is an abomination in Leviticus) and fail to mention their clean shaven faces. Their tattoo of Jesus on their right arm is a reminder of their faith. But hell if they'r

It must be that time of year, because I constantly keep thinking and talking about my dad a lot. It's only been two years since he passed, yet I sometimes feel like he's still here in a way. I still have those dreams, where I wake up in the dream while meeting him, and I always say, "Is it really you, Dad?" And he quickly motions his hands to come over, "Yeah yeah -- it's really me, hurry!" We have a 10 second "meet time" where we hug and say hello and then it's over just. like. that. Poof. Gone. I wake up almost instantly, either smiling or crying. It depends. I do believe these "meetings" in my dreams are real, because I verify it right in the dream itself. "Is it really you?" Or, "Is this real?" -- Meaning, 'am I really and truly seeing you in my dream as an actual meeting' sort of question. But why for only 10 seconds or less? During Mom's last day of radiation when they made her ring a b

This world hasn't progressed all that much. People can put on a good facade and appear openminded and accepting of those of a different age, race, creed, color, sex, religion, sexual orientation and identity. But if their core belief is discriminatory, I'm not quite sure it can be altered all that much. For example, if a person was taught from the first day they were on this earth, that Jesus is the only way to get into heaven, then even if he or she changes religions later on in life, their inner core belief will always give them a tinge of guilt or perhaps even fear. "Am I going to heaven or not?" If someone grew up in a household that deemed blacks and hispanic people to be "bad folk" -- most likely, that child will grow up to be a racist. Same applies for anyone who grew up being taught that homosexuals are perverts and should be shunned. And there you have the ingredients for homophobia. Society has definitely progressed, but more so in legal terms.

When I started elementary school, it was a strange time for me. There were kids from all walks of life, all different races and religions. In my mind, I thought everyone grew up like I did. We lived in a large five bedroom home on top of a huge mountain overlooking three neighboring towns. We had ATVs, Cadillacs and 4x4 cars and trucks. We were considered a "well to do" family. I never knew that there were people less fortunate out there, until I began making new friends. (I know some of my old friends will know who I'm speaking about once reading this.) I will change his real name to, Ted. This boy befriended me on the bus when I was 10 years old. He was funny, quirky and made me laugh all the time. My bus stop was before his, so I never really knew how far down the road he lived from me. One day, he asked me to come over and hang out after school. He told me it was a short walk from my bus stop, and to get off at his instead. I remember the bus dropped us off at the