In the Name of Women

Bitch . Slut. Whore. Nag. Cunt.

These are the words carelessly aimed at a woman. Although many have disagreed with me on this point, I emphatically believe them to be gender specific.; Therefore, the obvious sign of a male-chauvinist, to say the least. I have become so used to this particular brand of abuse that I am seldom surprised or unprepared for this attack. That said the lack of response from anyone hearing it is forever appalling. Where are those men that understand a woman is to be respected? Where are their voices amongst the throng of men that know not what they do when throwing these grenades.

Let us examine the argument that these words can be directed at men as well. These are the terms that are meant to effeminate a man. It is the way to tell a man he is like a woman and less manly. Need I say more?

Everyone has a woman in their life. We are the mothers that birthed you. We are the sisters that looked up to you. We are the daughters seeking your guidance. No life is untouched by one. When this act is perpetuated…when this slang is slung, the offender disgraces every woman they know or will ever. As well, they have lowered the standards as to what is and is not acceptable. Furthering this act to go unnoticed, making everyone just a little less sensitive to this travesty.

Trust me these words sting but when these bullets come from those of another women…words fail me. I believe this ever-growing phenomenon began with the feminist movement of the 60s. I am by no means saying that that wasn’t an important step in the evolution of females. What I am saying is that too many women overcompensated and forgot what it was to be a woman in their goal to show men they could be, like them. In my humble opinion, the mistake was made that we believed the bullshit men spewed of our natures being negative: “women are weak, soft, emotional and irrational” In order to combat this we became men! They left their feminity aside in order to fight back. Now here we are today trying so hard to be equal to men, STILL, by disavowing our own gender. Besides all signs of softness lacking in themselves, the basic bond…pride of sisterhood is fading fast, if not gone.

The problem is I don’t know the solution. How can I, and those of my ilk, convince others that it is okay to be a woman. How can I assure a man that we pose no threat merely because we are different?  

Facebook Fail?

I only have _____ friends. I waited almost a whole month expecting for the Facebook Gods to smile upon me with random friends from days of yore—FAIL. I changed my status update fairly often as per the FB (aren’t I cool for knowing that acronym?) protocol with no, to very few comments—FAIL. Then it happened…the inevitable that had delayed me joining FB to begin with; my privacy was breached! The calm before the storm arrived in an email. It so innocently read, “You have been tagged”. I can’t express to you how my heart raced. I began scouring all my friends photos, hunting for this culprit. My results were more than I could bear. I found not only one person invading my protocol but two. 

My next plan of action was to completely privatize my profile. It turns out the only option is to control YOUR pictures on YOUR page, not others. Of course these “friends” received a message from me. It was very difficult to control my “DUH” response when advising them that my permission should be sought before pictures of ME were to be publicized.  I have yet to get a response from them.

Facebook opened: November 28, 2010

Facebook Closed:  December 15, 2010

PS, to throw salt on my already damaged soul, turns out you can’t actually delete FB, merely deactivate it. Evil, evil, evil incarnate…I’m just sayin’

The Recipe

Armastama- Estonian
AMOR - Spanish
AMOUR- French
LIEBE- German
LIEFDE-Dutch

Duram - Farsi

sarane ( korean )

cinta in Indonesian

Love. "Love makes the world go round" "All you need is love" "What the world needs now is love, sweet love"

These things exemplify love to some social plateau we should all aim for.  They spoon feed the stories of that elusive true love or finding “the one”.  What happens when you find that person that made your heart go pitter patter though? What then? When the music stops playing every time they enter the room, who prepares you for that reality?

It wasn’t until I was well into my twenties that I stopped believing in fairy tales.  That wasn’t the devastating part; it was when I was still chasing the rainbows that my heart hurt. I used to wait for my white knight to ride up on his stead and rescue me from a life of mere mediocrity. I looked for him everywhere too. Whenever my heart began beating out of its chest at the sight of some male looking at me just so, I thought,”Yep, he’s the one”.  If I craved a mans’ company I thought, “He is the one I am meant to spend forever with”.  You can well imagine none of those men made that journey. Inevitably, the looks he gave me began to wander to other women or become dulled by routine.  The craving was replaced by a feeling of suffocation. The shiny knight turned out to be another boy far away from knighthood, much less manhood and his stead was his mother's Buick he borrowed. PS, if you haven’t already put two and two together, these white knights were really just bad boys with smooth lines and shiny mirrors.

Now you may sense that I am bitter but it’s not quite.If you'd like to know why that isn't the case, read on. It was a shattering of childhood fantasies, sure, and that would be earth shaking had it not been replaced by something to grow on. I realized that that draw towards “those” men were my need for punishment that dwells within us all. Subconsciously, it is the level at which we think we deserve to be treated. Drama…that is what I craved to somehow make my life seem more exciting. Whether bad or worse that abuse fulfilled a need in me.

Maybe you’d like to know what that thing was that I learned (besides the fact that those boys were no happily ever after). It can all be found in this one statement: Love is NOT enough! I had believed that love was this rare happening that must be first snatched up upon feeling. Guess what…FAIL. Love is not the basis of a good relationship. Yes, I said it, let me repeat, Love is not the basis of a good relationship. Love is easy. Loving someone is a happy accumulation of moments. Love is a flighty fancy that comes and goes in moods. That said, love is important of course but it is not the foundation on which you should build your home. There are several components that should be contained in that concrete base in which you build your love upon. Trust, honesty, as in self-honesty to start with, a firm sense of companionship with plenty of things in common to build upon are just a few of the necessities of a balanced relationship. There must be similar morals/values, goals and ambitions. Here comes a doozy: there needs to be a deficit that the other person exceeds at. A tug of sorts will keep the interest in the maintenance involved. Bottom line once you find all these components it still isn’t smooth sailing…its work! Plain and simple you must remind yourself every freaking day that this is the person that you wish to build your life with no matter what changes or situations occur. 

Blurp

I have a cold and I want to be babied. Yep, I know how irrational it is but nevertheless...there it is! PS, it must be a sign of how bad the cold is because I'm thinking about actually joining Facebook. Maybe I'll get better before the madness gets worse.

HELP ME

Boys & Their Toys

Anyone that knows me knows I am a hardcore PS3gamer! With that come boys. Although, women are beginning to get a foothold in the gaming industry it is still dominated by the male species. Therefore, I am forced to be around them, play with and against them and naturally, they become my friends. I have a unique situation in that, because most of them begin to see me as one of the boys and I get to see their world. Umm…it is NOT a pretty sight!

Whew…

·         the cussing

·         the fussing

·          the arguing with one another

·         The graphic jokes and comments

Trust me ladies, you may not recover from one of these sessions. However, I have an investment in it because to game is to breathe. I have quite the group too. The “leaders” and I have all known one another going on four years now. What an odd relationship we have! We all have one another’s home phone numbers and such. We know a lot about each other’s real lives as well. Yet, generally we only meet up online, on the game!

In case, I do have any lady viewers I need to mention that yes, this journey to boydome is indeed a rocky road. I still get the occasional lude remark. It has taken me quite some time to get even this status. In the beginning I am a target of boyhood fantasies: A GIRL GAMER!! Omg! Haha As if I am a rare species just discovered. At one time or another, every guy in my group has hit on me or made a real effort to find romance. I recognize it as the hollow phase that it is now, but yes, its flattering before you realize that.

Now that that story is told, let me get to the root of my blog. I play war games mostly, specifically, the fabulous-all-consuming Call of Duty series! My boys and I met up in Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare back in 2007 on the brand new Playstation 3 system. Then most of us went to Call of Duty: World at War, then came Call of Duty: Modern Warfare2 and currently we are in Call of Duty: Black Ops. Through all of these games there are good points to each game and bad. The one that stands true through all of them is the cheating, mods and server issues that go on.  A game can be compromised in any of these ways and it is almost impossible to find out which and definitely impossible to solve said problem. So tell me why they gripe? Haha  Yep this whole blog was to express my frustration with WHINY boys! Hahaha

To my boys: Grow some ya’ll and stop being a girl!

THE End

Hear, See, Speak No Evil...REALLY??!!!

Let me begin by saying this blog will be a doozy. I have neglected my blogspot for a bit and have so many topics running through my head that I have decided to collaborate at least three of them here. That was my warning that you should have a cup of coffee or some form of caffeine in your hand to continue on.

I thought censorship was a thing of the past personally. However, recent events seem to say differently. Let’s begin this circus of media with the Bill O’Reilly/The View Incident. Those of you that live under a rock and didn’t hear about it, I will recap. Bill O’Reilly, radical conservative with his own talk show was a guest on The View discussing several issues heatedly. It was when he began the topic on the 9/11 memorial—MOSQUE that things became overly so. He was explaining that the mosque being built there was, “inappropriate”. He even stated statistics that 70% of all Americans do not want the mosque to be built there. Joy Behar, specifically found this fact to be exaggerated and began to become more elevated in her tone. All hell let loose when Mr. O’Reilly states, “Muslims killed us on 9/11”. He went on to say that even our President Obama would not give full reason for his support. Obama’s only comment was to the concept of “religious freedom” and how we all equally had the right to express ourselves. He specifically refused to comment on the “wisdom” of said project. I believe this was a very thorough stating of facts on Mr. O’Reilly’s part but Joy Behar and Whoopie Goldberg decided they could not tolerate Mr. O’Reilly’s right to free speech.

Yes, he could have put it more gently. Yes, he could have specified that these are radical/extremists/zealots or the age-old terrorists. Those bandaids would not change the fact that the men responsible for 9/11, in so much that we know are indeed calling themselves Muslim. I’m sorry but he was not wrong! The only thing Bill O’Reilly did wrong was he forgot to kowtow to the bleeding heart politically correct liberals that would have us call a black pot off brown, rather than black so as to not hurt anyone or organization’s feelings.

The next incident, which was supported by Mr. O’Reilly as well, occurred when Juan Williams of NPR in an interview on television said, “When I get on a plane…and people are in Muslim garb and I think they are identifying themselves first and foremost as Muslims, I get worried. I get nervous.” Mr. Williams was fired as a result. Susan Williams defends this action by saying Mr. William’s wrongdoing was that he, as a NPR news analyst gave his opinion and should not have. What a ludicrous statement! Anyone speaking in a public medium, discussing issues …well, it’s all about opinions. NPR doesn’t offer up mere facts, nor does any one network. We all know that NPR is the right wing, as Fox News is the radical left respectively. Those directional slants are not born of facts but rather different and individualistic perspectives, ie…opinions!

Yes, Mr. Williams could have kept this to himself. He could have dared not utter what is on (and this is my opinion ONLY) a huge percentage of Americans minds and hearts when they board planes in the exact fashion, not to mention most, if not all public avenues. I can assure you that I have a mild sense of panic and unease assault me every time I see a woman or child in a burka. It takes great restraint on my part to remember that this is a single human being, not representative, necessarily, of the radical views that my mind perceives the burka states.

If it was not already evident let me now please make it clear: The mosque should not be built on the burial grounds of so many Americans!! In this case, the actual truth of whom or who did not cause 9/11 is not as important as the fact that most of us believe a Muslim faction carried out this atrocity. The mosque being built there would then be like patting them on the back of their heads in a congratulatory manner. It is extremely insensitive to all those families left behind to endure this reminder of who is responsible for the loss of their loved ones. Yes, Mr. O’Reilly, it IS indeed inappropriate, I agree. As for President Obama’s place in this is another matter. I understand on one hand that he is playing the diplomat by stating that this is an allowance that defines American freedom. I think in a whole other manner he means this to extend a hand of friendship to the many Muslim-Americans that are increasing our population every day; It’s politics! That said, I can’t help but be disappointed that our president risks heart and compassion for his people in order to walk that fine politically correct line. If ever there was a time to sway that line it should be whilst considering anything that will affect the spot or survivors of the worst ever recorded event in the United States of American history. 

Strength

I am a woman in a man's world. Perhaps we can all claim this but my life, particularly is dominated by men. My best friend is male, and in actuality several good friends are male. I live in the gaming world which is dominated by men as well. I heard some woman just 'sigh' but let me assure you this is no easy task. Follow along with me and you will see.

For a long time I have fought the traditional side of my nature that believes in gender roles because of the perceptions that other have on that concept. When I say that a man should lead the woman, automatically it is assumed that the woman cannot lead herself. It's as if the ability to choose is somehow moot in this circumstance. Due to this misconception I overcompensated by becoming the ferocious woman of the millennium. Much like the hippies of the 60/70s, I became a woman so bent on defining myself as an individual that I lost a part of my womanhood. In fact, ,many of my male friends dubbed me a man eater/hater because I had become so obsessed with proving that I was an independent woman and needed no one, much less a man in my life. I am here to right that wrong today.

"Men are strong"."Women are soft and fragile". I've been working under this guise for some time now. We, women take on so many roles: We are the mothers that never falter; We are daughters that always love; We are friends that will be there for one another; We are wives that 'allow' our husbands to be the king of their castles; We are the caregivers in most everyones lives, but often not our own! None of these roles are invalid at all. What is the problem is that before you become the super mom, wife, daughter or friend you  must become 'you'! I was convinced to be a true woman you must make sure that you don't overshadow a man--pathetic, right? Yes, is the answer. I am stronger than that. Initially, my point was being around all these men helped convince me that I was a damsel in need of rescuing. Luckily, they also had the opposite effect... In my constant quest for equality and value in their lives I have found my inner strength. I realize that my ability to do and become anyone I desire rests in my hands, and mine alone. There is my strength! That is my power; not my ability to speak softly, be sexy or appear inept. This information is a beautiful part of my growth. It's new and for all of you that already knew this, I applaud you. 

I might be breaking a lot of illusions for many people but most importantly myself because I realize that I can be whoever I want to, out loud, no matter if you agree or not.  I hope you are all prepared but if not...let this beautiful poem from the incredible Maya Angelou explain and resestablish the message I wish to share with you:

Still I Rise You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries. Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own back yard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise. Slavery comes in many forms, including the chains that are  self-inflicted--Catherine Ellen Ballinger

Time, lines and the drum

There is some quote about time marching on, whether we like it or not. This is a fact we all must face eventually. Then again, if you pay attention you will hear those drums throughout your life.

My eighteen year-old son told me that he feels bored with this life…thud! My grandparent’s health is deteriorating fast …thud! I looked in the mirror this morning and saw my first wrinkle beginning..thud! thud! Each time that sound is heard our hearts skip a beat. It’s a change in our awareness of life and it leaves its mark. When these moments happen I suppose you have two choices on how to deal. One, you allow that fear to stay in your life…you slow down, stop taking chances and give in to the inevitabilities as you see them now. The other choice is to embrace this as a milestone. It is a marker that we have come so far in life. It is the sign that you have these choices: to move forward in this adventure or find your comfort zone and stay there for the rest of your life. Let me be clear that either one is acceptable…this is YOUR life!

No one is immune to these drums; they merely thud at different intervals for different people. Some of us die a little when we hit the big 3 0, while others are happy to have arrived.  One of the most famous markers is that “mid-life” crisis we hear so much about from men. It generally happens around 50 and can severely cripple a life. Sometimes men begin seeking younger women or sports cars to stop the drums. Women begin questioning their looks and start talking about having “work” done on it to deny the process.

Yes, I feel these fears. I even can confess to allowing it to halt my growth a time or two but in the end I endure, we will endure. Those lines on my face are the stories of my life, each one documents a time in my line. The big 4 0 will be coming soon and I am sure to feel proud that I made it this far. Things will begin to sag, lines will spread and parts of my life will slow down. I strive and will continue to embrace this journey. After all, the end is really just the beginning. 

Words like sticks and stones

This is Karen Alloy. She has been running a Vlog  for many years now that I follow. This is the first time I felt it very important to share one. Her vlog is about suicides due to bullying, and cyber bullying. Due to my recent bout with a stalker I watch this video with a deeper level of understanding. Please understand that the sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me is no longer true. In this day and age, we have reputations and social status that dictates our lives. It can be manipulated to do harm or good. Be responsible when you read, comment or leave messages for someone next time you are online. 

Reason #101 I will NOT goto Facebook!

Love's Ghosts

I have loved and been loved. However, ask that of certain individuals and they will disagree. There is an argument about love, at least amongst my circle of friends. This alternative view states that if the "loved" one is no longer in your life then it must have not been love. Let me be perfectly clear and repeat, I have heard the opinion expressed by more than one person that if your romantic partner is no longer that then love never existed. I cannot give any further explanation of this opinion because I find it to be a ludicrous idea. I'm surprised I got this far into my blog before making my opposition more evident. Before I begin my rant, let me issue this disclaimer genuinely: Every one is allowed their own opinion. When I labeled that opinion as ludicrous and as I go on to expel upon how avidly I disagree, that is not attack on any person, but the concept of the idea.

I have loved and been loved! Each individual that has come into my life, in a romantic way, have a piece of my heart that never dies. Even my ex-husband, whom I have no love for, had a place there. At one point he knew my love and loved me. That does not disappear because we ended our life together. Love is hardly this solitary event, rather it is cumulative moments. Even in a successful marriage of length, they will tell you there are times when the love has ebbed and when it resurges once more; that might even be the secret to understanding marriage. I can assure you that those moments when the love is less, does not mean it is gone. Love is not always meant to last forever, in fact, that is more of a rarity than the rule.

There is one piece of supporting evidence to this wayward thought that I might concede with but even that has a place in my argument. The idea that if it is truly unconditional love, the optimal kind, then it will never disappear. First of all, that is almost an inhuman thing to ask. It takes a person of great discipline, understanding...I would go so far as to say training to achieve this feat. Unconditional love, were it ever present, states that no matter the other person's behavior or acts a love will abide. However, even in this it does not state that a life together will be feasible. Using this definition and example of love, I believe the fact that you are not together can still mean the love is untainted.

Furthermore, when there is a loss...a breakup, separation or divorce the mourning process that proceeds is tantamount to proof of love. The fact that this person still lives but not with or near your life is an awesome emotion that can surely not be diminished because of its past tense status. As my friend stated to me just now, "That person isn't dead but the entity you were together is. You must mourn something that is actually not gone". I really couldn't have said it better. Out of sight, does not equal out of heart!

 

Happy Birthday Baby

Today is my son's 18^th birthday. It is hard to believe my little baby boy is now officially a man. All parents will tell you that the time flies and I am yet another one. I do remember when he was a baby in the basinet beside my bed. Daniel was a very good baby. He never kept me up at night with any of those typical problems like colic or teething or even just the day and night mix up. He was always an early riser. Oftentimes, he woke up before me. That only became a problem when he began walking and I realized I had to become an early riser as well. Like the time when he was two years old: We woke up to find him sitting in the cat's litter box, happy as can be with devastation all around him. He had taken a bunch of pussy willows that we had brought home and de-shed them all over the kitchen and living room; somehow he found the last remaining cassette tapes known to man and unraveled them as well. After all that he decided to bond with our kitty by playing in her litter box. My initial reaction was that of anger but before I could say a word, I looked into his eyes and saw how happy he was; laughter ensued. There were quite a few of these types of memories because Daniel always had an explorative mind. When it was time for him to begin school this was never more evident.

Every year I would meet with the teachers and the same thing was said: "Daniel is extremely bright but isn't interested in our studies." Instead, you could find Daniel talking to not only fellow students, but teachers about their problems or those of the world. Yep, my son was the little counselor. At a very early age he was convinced he could help everyone. It was then and still is one of his most endearing qualities. Of course don't tell him I said that because in "mommy-mode" I am supposed to remind him that he needs to focus on himself and let others find their own way.

Here we are today, my baby becoming a man in society's eyes… He isn't sure where he'll go in his future and we are steadily trying to work on that. I am very confident that whatever it is, he will not only succeed but be the leader he was destined to become.

I love you Daniel.

I Cry

I do cry;

I cry for the people that I know are out there crying too. I cry for the child in me and others that grew up too fast at their hands. I cry for the scared adult that worries if I'm making good life decisions. I cry because I'm scared to love fully. I cry because I don't know if I'll ever truly trust someone. I cry because I'm so happy and grateful. I cry every time I think of my relationship with God (ie, me). I cry because I'm scared of growing old. I cry because this moment is too wonderful to contain. I cry because a memory has floated through my mind of a former friend/loved one that is no longer around. I cry for my son that I fear for all the time. I also cry for my son when I'm so proud of who I hope he is becoming. I cry because I'm not who I thought I was going to be. I cry because sometimes I'm more than I thought I would ever be. I cry because I'm afraid I'm going to lose him and I cry for the ones I have lost. I cry for my friends/family that have died. I cry when the lyrics of a song remind me that the world is full of such beauty and harm. I cry because I'm not only scared to be alone but upset that I'm worried about that. I cry at movies…I cry.

You probably won't ever see me cry though. As beautiful as I think it is, it is also an extremely intimate moment. It is the exact time that I am actively living and/or reliving an event so powerful that my body cannot contain it.

The very first time I realized it was okay to cry was upon hearing Nicholas Cage (yes the actor) tell Meg Ryan, in the movie, "City of Angels" that, "Maybe... maybe emotion becomes so intense your body just can't contain it. Your mind and your feelings become too powerful... and your body weeps." Yep, it was that movie that convinced me my tears were acceptable.

This poem is honestly not that good, however I think it sums it all up well. I wrote this when I was about 13. I felt this way then and still do now.

Reason for Tears                            

 

I cry very often

Over many things

It makes me feel better

It soothes the pain

It won't bring back

The memories I've had

Some were beautiful

While others…very sad

Friends, loves, heartbreaks

And my many fears

I cry out in my own way

My way…is my tears

People say, "Only babies cry"

I believe different

These are my reasons

So don't ask why

 

Contact or not to…that is the question

How much is enough contact in the information age? When do we know when to not allow a person onto our MySpace page, or our cell numbers or our addresses? Without our knowledge anyone can find our information via the net nowadays so how do we protect that yet enjoy the connections it affords? Let me rewind and tell you what brings me to these questions.

After four years of the same phone number I had it changed about a month ago. I had to change my phone number to get someone to leave me alone. Yes, this caused me concern, but I still wanted to believe he is just one of those that hangs on a little too tightly or maybe losing me is a big deal (allow me that ego moment).Stalker? Unbalanced? More so, was it all my fault in the beginning for allowing him to have my number before I was sure it would be respected? Yes, I tend to give my number out too freely ever since the texting bug hit me. I figure what harm can a text be and why would anyone choose anything other than that? (this is only directed at casual friends) Boy was I wrong.

He was just some guy I gamed with on my beloved Playstation. We ended up spending a lot of time together since I do tend to game daily and he was there.
…I heard that!

All you non-gamers just shook your heads in pity and disbelief, just as society at large used to when the internet relationships began; look how that turned out. Let me assure you that you can get to know someone fairly well on a gaming system, just like on the internet.

Let us return to the matter at hand. I realized things were getting out of hand with this guy so I tried reeling back. Initially, stating plainly that there was nothing going on here but I enjoyed his friendship. Upon hearing this news the guy went from sweet uttering's of admiration and love to declarations of my depravities and immoral imaginary behaviors quickly. Let me tell you one thing…You guys (that do this) are beyond detestable! You claim to love someone, arguing that you cannot live without them but as soon as you realize that that won't work, you turn from Doctor Jeckle to Mr. Hyde. It is deplorable and proves that this imaginary thing you claim, such as (cough) love is so far from anything you are capable of understanding.

At first I tried to convince him otherwise. I wanted to salvage a friendship/gaming relationship. The second time, I merely told him one last chance. The third time I said nope we can't even be friends. Then we are back to the beginning of my blog…permanent separation; If only that had worked.

Today I learned that my Playstation account had been hacked. This…pitiful excuse for a man somehow figured out my password, deleted all my friends on my account and changed said password so I couldn't access it. Thank goodness his intelligence does not match his deviousness. I spent the better part of a hour on the phone with Sony figuring out my options to stop this creep. Basically, he will get away with the harassment but I can ensure that he will not have access to me anymore. Sadly, to do this I lose two of usernames that I have come to love; I have to cancel them.

I'm pissed that yet again in my life a jerk is allowed to bully me. It appears that the law and/or corporations seem to enable those that are smart enough to play the game but not bright enough to make good decisions. Before I get too farlong into a rant, let me say that I realize I must take some responsibility in this. Obviously, my trust instinct needs to be adjusted. Specifically, I need to limit contact with the all important digits, emails ,etc.

I'm still left wondering how I can do this without becoming that person that refuses to allow anyone "in". The internet, gaming, etc is all very social for me. I relish meeting new people and getting in their heads and hearts. How can I continue my exploration of the human psyche but remain safe from the possible backlash? I know one thing, when presented with this dilemma I will remember this case and choose differently. Wish me luck!

My Clouds

You might have noticed the picture of clouds on my page, here. Did that seem odd? Well, you haven't heard anything yet.

Yes, I have a fascination with clouds. Specifically it is the Cumulus type that will hold me transfixed. Cumulus can be remembered as "puffy" to distinguish from the other two types of clouds, Stratus("stretches across and feathery") and Nimbus("storm clouds"). Although there seems to be an argument about just how many cloud types there are, the most common type is the Cumulus cloud. Generally it is the one that grows vertically in the sky, reaching up to heights in excess of 39,000 feet releasing incredible amounts of energy through the condensation of water vapor within the cloud itself. Although the Nimbus is the "storm" cloud, Cumulus can also dictate bad weather. When the puffy clouds begin growing to excessive heights and there is a darker horizon, seemingly behind them that is when they are called cumulonimbus clouds, associated with powerful thunderstorms known as super cells. This might be my favorite version of them. It is very poetic if you think about it. There is this soft-looking, white, innocent cloud in all its glory yet harboring just beyond it a terrific storm. These are also called thunderclouds. In North Carolina, I like to call them "our relief". Oftentimes, they are a welcome sight, especially in the midst of one of our dry summers.

Now that I have fed the science geeks let me tell you that none of this much matters to me. What happens when I see these particular clouds is an uncontrollable sense of warmth. It takes me back to the beginning, where a personal myth of mine was created and has yet to be proven wrong:

My childhood was turbulent at best. I won't go on and on about that because I am not alone in this statistically. Suffice it to say there were lots of moments alone when all I did was talk to God, praying for guidance or solace…anything to ease my fears. More often than not, I would seek this comfort with nature as my medium. We almost always lived near woods and I would get lost there in thought. It was almost like magic that every time I sought out "help" my Cumulus clouds were there. However, in my childish mind, they were God's couches. I just knew that He was there, sitting on them, smiling at me, offering me warmth, guidance and a reassuring energy. It never failed! I ran outside my home and looked up to see those big, puffy clouds illuminated with the sun behind them. I truly believed He put them there for me! I was absolutely convinced that this was God's way of telling me, "I'm here, you are going to be okay"…EVERY time!

Fast forward, too many years for me to own up to and I still am charmed by this sight. Do I still believe that it is proof that God is there? Ehhh, I'm not so sure but neither am I convinced that it is not true. Truthfully, it doesn't matter because they are still the sight that has the power to calm me…to remind me that there is so much more than this one silly moment…to release any stress from my mind with an audible sigh.

Now you know that I am not trying to capture you or your car's license plate number when you see my cell phone out the window aimed upwards; nor have I slipped into some suicidal state of unaware when gazing upwards through my sun roof; Nope it is just me indulging my cloud fetish and perhaps being a reckless driver haha

So tell me what is it that has power over you? Is there anything that you can touch, taste or see that has the ability to change your state of mind instantly? Leave the comment below and lets open our minds up together.

Service?

Customer service. Gasp...yes, I said CUSTOMER SERVICE.  How about lowering our standards to account for our ever-evolving society leading us further and further away from that personal touch and just expect SERVICE!  Where has it gone? How is it in a world with a population explosion does that translate to decreased customer service? We have more people that are in need of services. We have more people able to provide services. What am I missing?

Recently, I have been having some major car problems. I took it to the mechanic that I have been exclusively using for 6 years+. He supposedly 'fixed' it after giving me the price that was $100.00 MORE
than a dealer. Yes, you heard me right...MORE THAN A DEALER. My car started. I was ecstatic! In the following week though my service engine light never went off and it stalled on me twice. I called this man and his only answer was that I bring it back in days later and he 'would see". He was not guaranteeing me no charge though. Again, yes you heard right.... it was not an absolute that he would not charge me to complete the job he had already agreed to do. Please, someone, tell me how this has become acceptable? I paid him to do a job that was not done. Black and white!!!

This is merely the most recent example of customer service fails; there have been many.  I wonder if they think there are soo many of us that one person dissatisfied will not affect their business. Are they just trying to see what they can get away with, perhaps? I don't know the answer. I do know that I wish I could send this out to the world and especially businesses to enlighten them. I will pay $100 more out of loyalty to a good mechanic. I will drive further than the local jiffy lube to get my oil changed to get service from a place that smiles at me and treats me like a person. Customer service is something we should expect. 

Bob Dumas of G105 had it right...DO NOT pull up at that McDonalds window!!! Make them satisfy you before they get to move on to the next customer in order to satisfy their "numbers". We must begin to demand our rights again!

I'm sure you have a story or two as well, do share below.

Car Idol

Men are said to see their cars as women. They call it 'she'. They pamper 'her'. It is purposed that they have the market on this relationship. I am here to disprove that. If you have ever seen me in my car, that might be evident. My baby must have a few things to be in tiptop shape. One, a sunroof; Two, a CD player with burns of my favorite tunes; Three, a kickass sound system. Then we are in business.

I am closer to who I am when I'm in my car than anywhere. I can't site any particular reason but I feel completely free and in control in my car. I accelerate. The breeze whips through my hair and sometimes my hands because yes, my windows are almost always down. Today was one of those beautiful days were my girl and I had some solid alone time. We drove the long way home from school, past all the parks and historic areas. We ventured downtown were the cityscape comforts me with excitement. Tonight we might take a ride again to have the lights hug us both with hope. What I have left out is some activity while she and I explore--singing!

The boom may be heard from some ways away while I'm on the open strip.  Now, most men blast their stereos to get us women to look or even other men to envy their girls. I jam because it frees my soul. I jam because I immerse myself in the emotions of the song. Hey and sometimes I just want to JAM with songs that make no sense. I feel so alive when I am on the road, blasting my stereo/CD with the wind whipping through.  I wasn't going to tell you this part but another reason for loud music is to drown out my own singing. LOL

So if you pass a redhead, driving fast, with the stereo blaring, and long hair blowing about madly while she sings her heart out while bopping her head...don't laugh because me...I'm having the time of my life and nothing could take that away. Well there was that once that I got stopped by a bike cop to turn my radio down---that is another blog.

Driven

She's a terror on the roads
They all stop and stare
The wind whipping through
With the sun in her hair
She's bopping her head
Her foot heavy in tune
Ripping up the roads silence
Stealing glances at the moon
She'll pass you quickly
But a moment for you to see
Reality suspended in this motion
Only the feeling of being free
She's forgotten all her sorrows
A true smile replaces the pain
Mistakes are racing behind her
The past screams her name
Slow down but a second
And you may just hear her say
With a daredevils smile full of laughter
"try and catch me another day"

Catherine Ellen Ballinger

Gifted Horses

Birthdays. Christmas. Anniversaries. These are the annual occurrences that obligate us to give gifts. I find so much stress involved with this process: Do I acquire the lists and get the specific item? Instead, do I opt for the thoughtful gift that proves I know this person? Ooo or do I buy the thing that this person needs, rather than wants? This horrific period begins, for me in August and relentlessly doesn't let up until the end of December. Oh no, I'm not talking about just Christmas, I even have a birthday on December 31^st (sucks to be him).

1. August 6^th- Brandi, my darling niece
   
2. September 7^th-DeVeer, my BFF
   
3. September 20^th-Tanya, my sister
   
4. October 5^th-Daniel, my favorite child
   

   November…and breathe
   

5. December 25^th THE Present Day
   
6. December 31^st-My father
   

Now these dates are just my musts! There are a few friends birthdays scattered in there as well, and all during this time frame. I guess there is a lot of sex going on in winter months, huh?

All this said, let me defend that I truly do enjoy giving gifts. My internal problem begins when I notice that it has become this mandatory thing. It's no longer about , "I love you, I appreciate you…here is a token of my affection" It is more like, "It's my day and if you don't buy me something expensive then you don't really love me." While shopping or out and about on a regular day, if I come across something that I know is of interest to a family or friend, I am thrilled for that purchase. Let me point out that this is no particular schedule though. I suck at hiding things so it would be a gift given immediately; that pleases me to no end! However, this begins an internal process in the recipient, I have noticed. They seem weirded out by my sporadic gift-giving. They wonder what is the occasion, what it means, what they did and most of all, do I have to reciprocate.

I am upon this crisis time currently. Wish me luck!

In conclusion, were I rich, I guess none of this would even be in question.

My Passion, my love

I love poetry! I worship the written word. Especially I am filled with adoration when I gaze upon inked paper with a piece of someone's soul spilt. It is the moment that life is breathed into this medium to represent a light or darkness inside another human being for all of us to view, to admire, to learn from. I have been writing since I was 11 years old. My first poem came on the heels of a fight my parents were having. I could hear them screaming and I was terrified for the changes I thought that might result. I feared for them. I sat by that North Carolina window and stood looking out at the fields and began to write...in my head. The words poured forth and I searched for something, not knowing what....I was propelled to write. Eight simple lines flew from my fingers, emptying my heart, erasing my fears, filling my mind with hope. Maybe it was God that day but I immediately felt a sense of relief, as if I knew it was all going to be okay. It was that day that I felt closer to God, ie myself then I ever had before.

Since then I have read many poems and literature of all kinds. I have favorite poets of yore. I have even met friends and family that write. They all touch me in one way another as the written word never fails to do. That being said this is the only poem that I have ever read and every time I read it, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of emotion, bittersweet happiness and tears that are uncontrollable. It is a shame I don't have more readers/followers/friends here so that more may read this work of art.

Warning: Kleenex is needed and a longing for a loved one to hold will ensue.

I Do
by Rudy Herrera

 

There she lay in the hospital bed;

a woman past 90, the woman I wed
 

We met in the summer, in the middle of June

just wrapping up lunch on a cool afternoon
 

I was walking with coffee that I had just bought

from this quaint little vendor, who had just brewed a pot

Heading back into work, while crossing the street

I looked up ahead… my heart skipped a beat!

There waiting tables in a sidewalk cafe,

stood a beautiful angel with some cups on a tray

I shuffled in closer, my heart in my throat

and standing before her, my chance seemed remote

I swallowed my fears and held my head high

I mustered some courage and let out a sigh

"Can I help you?", she asked, her voice very soothing,

but I suddenly froze... my mouth wasn't moving!

With a full cup in hand, I panicked and mumbled

an order for coffee that came out all jumbled

She glanced at my cup with one eyebrow bent

and perceptively smiled at my hidden intent
 

I tried to explain, with an abrupt lack of charm,

and coming up short, I spilled on my arm

We both had a laugh and both took a chance

we both fell in love at a Thanksgiving dance
 

I proposed soon there after, her answer was yes

I'll never forget her in that gorgeous white dress

She proudly repeated the priest's words aloud,

"til death do us part", she solemnly vowed
 

"Repeat after me", the priest nodded his head...

"I wrote my own vows", I smiled and said

I squeezed her hands tightly and drowned in her eyes

I took a deep breath and disclosed my surprise
 

"In life and in death, I belong to you...

my heart, my soul, my life, I do."

Her eyes watered up, her face full of joy

and the following year, we were blessed with a boy
 

I worked extra shifts, early on in our life

but never thought twice, for my baby and wife

With love in our home we raised our son right

and sometimes, though rare, we'd bicker and fight

 

And still every morning, to start out my day

I'd made it a point to kiss her and say,

"In life and in death, I belong to you...

my heart, my soul, my life, I do."
 

Our son grew up into a good, strong, young lad

with a compassionate mother and a proud dear ol' dad

I remember the day of the infamous war...

the reports of the bloodshed, violence and gore

Our boy so distracted, he lived in deep thought

his conscience so torn, his heart so distraught

Determined one day, our boy, he enlisted

No more a boy, our young man persisted
 

"I cannot sit idly by anymore"

He flew out that week to help in the war

Though she understood, his mother, she cried

And while forcing a smile, a part of her died
 

I myself shed a couple of tears,

some were of pride, and the others... my fears

He wrote every day, that whole month of June;

He missed us all so... he'd be coming home soon
 

The final letter came on the 4^th of July,

"With regret to inform us" our pride n' joy died

A piece of us gone, we mourned every year

from that year on after, the 4^th brought a tear
 

On the strength of our love, we trudged on with life

as hard as it seemed for me and my wife

Time flew by quicker with each passing day

nonetheless every morning I'd remember to say

"In life and in death, I belong to you...

my heart, my soul, my life, I do."

And now she lay in the hospital bed,

a woman past 90, the woman I wed
 

I prayed to the Lord to take me instead

I begged and I pleaded for the life in that bed

One morning I felt a soft hand on my cheek

as I awoke to a voice, frail and meek
 

"In life and in death, I belong to you...

my heart, my soul, my life, I do."

My radiant angel sat up in her bed

"good morning my dear", she smiled and said.
 ....

I thanked the "All Mighty" with a sniffle and wheeze,

as I broke down in tears and fell to my knees

Now tonight, in our home, at the end of the day,

I climb into bed... I kiss her and say,
 

"In life and in death, I belong to you...

my heart, my soul, my life, I do."

In the morning she awoke, her tears like a river,

as the man of her dreams lie dead right beside her
 

He now lays at rest along side their son,

the man that she wed, still second to none

Alone in a graveyard, with tears in her eyes,

she smiles and remembers, then proudly she sighs,
 

"In life and in death, I belong to you...

my heart, my soul, my life, I do."

Thank you Rudy. 

Noodle Soup

"Hi, my name is Catherine and I am a Noodle Soup-aholic"
 

Is it really a soup? Oh you know what I'm talking about…Ramen Noodles, Maruchen or cup of noodle. All walks of life have had the pleasure of this dish at one time or another in their life. In fact, for the less fortunate it is quite the cuisine. Low income families, college students, single people or even those of us with less than perfect culinary skills choose Ramen Noodles as a staple in our homes. The jury seems to still be out on whether it is actually bad for you or not. Obviously it is not good but the only real drawback is the sodium levels. The next question that must be begged is how do you eat your Ramen? I like to cook two packs and keep a lot of broth so that I may dump in a ton of smooshed (oh It's a word) up crackers. Mmm, there is nothing like soup soaked crackers. Let us not forget the perfect noodle length. There are those of us that would defile the noodle and pre-break it up so that it will daintily place upon our forks. This is opposed to the sloppy, slurping of noodles hitting up against our chins when the fork will not tame the wild few. Guess which one I like?

In direct opposition to my disheveled way of eating Noodle Soup my sister likes very little broth. I would cook her packaged noodles; take it out of the broth and place in the bowl dry. Then we add ice cubes that will melt upon contact and create a lukewarm broth, eh gads! And yes, she wanted the noodles actually cut up with a knife before she would take a bite.

Now that those questions have been answered, how about which flavor do you like? There is Oriental, Beef, Chicken, Pork, Shrimp and even a Chili kind. Now those are just the kind I have found. Personally, I like Oriental the best but in truth, they all do taste too similar to differentiate.

How do you like your Noodle Soup if you dare to step out into the light and proclaim, "Yes, I eat Noodle Soup"?

Dear Sleep, I miss you

Insomnia. Sleeplessness. Restlessness. The younger generation might even call it Vampirism to quiet its intensity.  These are the words that float in my mind each and every night when I lay my head down to attempt to sleep.  The world is beginning to recognize this growing health concern that  results in sleep deprivation. Turns out I am not alone. Statistics state that 48-51% of Americans are experiencing Insomnia three to four times a week on average. That means one out of every four people experience some form of this disease. Although there are many sleep study clinics, specialized physicians and Homeopathic shops trying to treat this epidemic there are others that are obviously gaining from this. 

The pharmaceutical companies have become fat cats off ever-increasing numbers of Americans that cannot find sleep due to racing thoughts, sleep apnea or night terrors, to name a few. They push their drugs onto the doctors, who then convince us that this pill will fix us. Web Md reports that over 10million Americans are on one drug or more for their sleeping problems. Also, it is reported that millions of dollars are lost due to absences in work and lower productivity because we are sleeping less and less each year. 

Welcome to my world, nightly. Maybe I should say daily. Frankly, I lose track of what exact time it is and sometimes what day it is due to my insomnia. While researching this phenomenon they generally cite either two causes; One, being a psychological issue, such as racing thoughts, Obsessive Control Disorder (ocd), etc. The other is due to a physical condition such as Diabetes, rapid weight loss or gain, etc. I wonder if there are a few people that are just  born this way. My plight with sleep began when I was very young. 

I remember being a preteen thinking,"When I become an adult I'm going to stay up as late as I want and sleep only when I'm tired". That was my biggest incentive to adulthood. Well my parents didn't agree with this choice of course so a bedtime was strictly enforced. I couldn't sleep! I'd sneak down the hall and sit behind my father's big recliner and watch television with him. It was some of our best bonding moments he never knew about. However,  when I did get busted there was hell to pay with little sympathy for my "condition". It got so bad that I began taking Dymatap, a candy-coated cold medicine, to induce sleep.  I was popping cold medicine so i wouldn't get in trouble for not sleeping! 

Now here I am working a third shift job for about three years now in hopes that this lifestyle choice would better suit my disorder. Sadly, it has not. I lose time, I lose days and I lose lots of opportunities with family and friends. Everyone that knows me is not in the least surprised to find me asleep while they are talking to me or my head thrown back in the car snoring when I'm supposed to be helping navigate. My friends and family have adapted but I am always left feeling guilty that I cannot meet their expectations of a fully functioning daytime person. 

I don't know what the answer will be. I don't know how far ,we as Americans, will have to fall to realize this rat race that we are living is not working out. I don't know but I want anyone relating to this to know you are not alone and to my family and friends...I'm sorry.