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Thursday, March 31, 2011

Mind Over Matter

"You are as young as you feel."  This is the quote many of people have said to me, and I in return have used it as well.  But is it true?  Is youth an age-old question of mind over matter?  Youth has been elusive as the Loch Ness Monster.  Some believe the answer is right under the surface, while others hope there are springs to enhance their happiness for longevity.

Is our mind's eye tricking, most, from the truth?  Do we hold the keys to truth and happiness within ourselves?  Why is happiness such in need of this elusive youth?  Here I say no, I am happy with my maturity and still youthful in my assertion to ideals and technology.  We live in a lingual society that tries to label every emotion.  Then, we analyze every title til it is a butchered cadaver, and we lose our original feeling to begin with.  Is youth a temperamental predominates of courage over timidity on any level?  Maybe for some, however, for me, youth is love, love of my temporary condition.

Should we ponder youth at all?  I find it a fruitless exercise steering us away from our struggle in our real-time existence.  It is not our place to question nature's selection of progressive urges.  It is our place to stay aside and let the youth have their turn today.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Some Editing...

Went through some of my posts today and added pictures.  Just saying...

A Vision

Was it real?  Was it just a dream, or merely a way of making my conscience feel better?  I don't really know, what do you think?

(Down right handsome man...My Grand-Daddy)


When I was a kid I could hardly wait for Saturdays to come around.  Saturday was the day that Grand-daddy came to my house in Ohio.  Grand-daddy would pull up, and I would run out to his car, give him a big hug, tell him I love him and hold out my hand, waiting to see what he brought me this time.  He never came empty-handed.  It could be as small as a Little Debbie cake (which was most of the time), coloring book and crayons or it could be as large as a new puppy.


Grand-daddy was married to Lona.  Lona was my step-grandmother, but she was always Lona to me.  She was nice, but she just wasn't Grandma.


When he got to our house, Grand-daddy would almost always go out to our garage with my daddy.  before he made it to the garage, he always stopped at his car first.  He would grab a sack and continue to the garage.  I would had watched him do this for several months, because I made up my mind to find out what he was doing.


One Saturday he came up and sure enough Grand-daddy said, "Hey Bill, let's go outside." and away they went.  My mission was in progress.  They went out and closed the door behind them.  I waited for them to corner the house, and I stepped out and peeked around the corner of the house.  I watched him go to his car, grab his secret bag, and give a quick look around, and into the garage he went.  Our driveway was covered with pebbles, so i knew I had to tiptoe slowly to the garage door, so not to be heard.  When I reached my destination, I got down on my hands and knees and peeked inside.  There was Grand-daddy getting into that secret bag.  PUTTCHAA.  I heard a can open.  As he turned around guzzling it's contents, I read the red letters on the side, Budweiser.


(Daddy and Grand-daddy)

"Oh my goodness, Grand-daddy is drinkiiinnnn," I thought to myself.  I jumped up, went into where he was just as "Ahhh!", was coming out of his mouth.  "Grand-daddy, I'm telling Lona your drinking beer."  he just looked at me like I was two instead of the mature nine-year-old I thought I was.  Then, turned his gaze to my daddy.  Daddy came over to me and said, "Billi, you don't have to say anything to Lona, because then Grand-daddy will get in trouble and I am sure you don't want that to happen." 


"O.K., I won't, " I said, "but he really shouldn't be drinking Daddy, you said it is a bad thing."  I then turned and walked out not even giving Grand-daddy a look.  That day Grand-daddy didn't say bye to me, nor did he treat me the same way, at least in my heart he didn't.


Seven years later, age 16 now, I was told by my mother that my Grand-daddy use to be an alcoholic.  this is news that I already figured out, but still it shocked my heart all the same.  Grand-daddy still did his normal trips to the garage or to Daddy's garden or anywhere else his habit would take him.  Don't get me wrong, he may have had a drinking problem, but he was still Grand-daddy, and he was still a great guy, just he was Grand-daddy that drank too  much beer.  And still, I felt things weren't the same between us.  We never really said anything but hi or Bye on our way past each other.


Now, here I sit in a corner years later.  In a corner of a hospital room where my Grand-daddy is lying in a bed dying of prostate cancer.  Mom and Daddy were there so I didn't have to really talk to him.  I couldn't, I didn't know what to say.  "Hope you feel better?"  "Sorry I was such a brat?"  "Why didn't you ever talk to me?"  No, nothing appropriate came to mind.  All I knew was my Grand-daddy was dying and I couldn't wait to get out of there.  I hated seeing him like that.  I wanted him out in that garage with his secret bag.

( Grand-Daddy's first time in the hospital after finding he had cancer)

Mom said it was time for us to go but Daddy would come back up after he ate and bathed.  And Grand-daddy just blinked and nodded as best as he could.  I just smiled at him and said, "Bye Grand-daddy.  I will probably see you tomorrow."  And off I went.  Stepped out into the hall and took a deep breath.  It was over and I wouldn't have to deal with seeing him again until tomorrow.


We pulled up in the driveway, went in and Mom started Daddy's dinner so he could go back.  Daddy's dinner was almost done when the phone rang.


"Is this Mrs. M.?", the woman on the other end asked.
"No, this is B., her daughter."
"Oh, can I speak with your dad B.?"
"Sure, may I ask who is calling?"
"This is Mary at Saint Elizabeth hospital."
"Just a minute."


Dad got on the phone and said, "O.K. I will be there as soon as I can."
"What is it Bill?" mom asked.
"They said that Dad is asking for me and they said maybe I should come.  Sue go on down there and I will be right behind you.  Tell Dad I'm on my way.  I need to use the bathroom and clean up a bit."


Mom asked me to go with her so she didn't have to drive alone in the dark.  So here I go again.  I just felt bad not having anything to say to him.  We got to the hospital and a nurse met us at Grand-daddy's door.


Mrs. M., I'm sorry but Clarence passed away about 10 minutes ago."


That was all I heard as i threw down my purse and went running.  As I rounded the corner of the hall I ran right into my daddy's chest, tears flowing down my cheeks.  Daddy looked at me and he knew what my face was telling him.  That was the only time I have ever seen my daddy run.  I followed him back to the room and I stopped at the door.  I wiped my face, took a deep breath and walked in, straight to that chair in the corner I sat at earlier that day.  I looked at Mom.  Crying she reached down and kissed his cheek.  "Bye dad, I love you."


Then there was my daddy.  Standing there with a look of disbelief, grabbed his father's hand, kissed his forehead, telling him he loved him and would miss him.  The sadness on my daddy's face, I have never seen that look since.  His daddy was gone.  then there was me.  I couldn't even look at Grand-daddy 'dead', let alone tell him anything.  I mean I said it all in my head, but not to him.


A week later I went to the garage and stepped inside the apartment my daddy built for my sister and I.  I sat there in the dark thinking, why in the world didn't I say goodbye.  Why couldn't I say I loved him?  Next ting I knew I was fast asleep on the couch.  All of a sudden my light came on, looked over and there stood my Grand-daddy under it smiling at me.  He said to me, "Don't get up."  he walked over to me and sat down at the side of me.  he stroked my hair at my forehead still smiling and said, "B., everything is fine.  I left knowing you loved me."  he touched my chest at my heart and closed his eyes and continued, "Right here is where I am now, so I can feel the love you have for me.  Tell all I am happy and I love them, and I Love You."  He got up, still smiling, turned and walked out the door.  The light went off and I woke up.  At that moment of waking up, I smelled him, still felt his touch and sensed that Grand-daddy was really there.  From that day on I never worried again.  My mind was at ease and I knew he knew I loved him and I was so truly sorry.


So whether it was a dream, real or out of guilt, I guess it was my way of getting some kind of closure between him and I.  But whatever it was, I know to this day, Grand-daddy feels the love that I could never express in words.


B.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Can't Take It

The no sleep thing is starting to really wear me down.  The night before last, I was up all night long.  I finally got to sleep around 10 the next morning.  Slept for an hour and a half then was right back up.  Slept 2 hours later that night and was up until 4:30 this morning.  Slept 2 hours and haven't slept since.  It is now 1:22 am and although I am tired, I know I will be wide awake when I hit the bed.  But I have to try. 

B

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Missing For Awhile

Hello out there to all that may be reading this.  Not much has been going on around here.  Everything just seems to be the same stuff but a different day.

I have slacked on my goals and I haven't finished them like I wanted, but I am coming back to them.

My next post will be a goal update.  I haven't forgotten, just sick and tired all the time.  But I will save that blog for another day.  I may get back sometime tonight to write a little.  I have missed writing everyday.  It was helping me more then I realized. 

So until a bit later on.
B

Friday, March 4, 2011

What is OK to post on the Internet

I was on Facebook tonight and a friend sent me a message and asked me to report this:

http://www.facebook.com/topic.php?uid=108576835836610&topic=471

First, I was scared to even click on cause I thought it was a virus.  Has anyone else noticed the virus' are running a muck on FB right now.  Geez.  Anyway, I decided to click on it. 

When I opened it I couldn't believe what I was reading.  Now, I am all for people posting their views on things, and posting how they feel, blah blah blah. But this...This was a view that I could not take.  If you do click on the link above...***PLEASE BE WARNED IT IS EXTREMELY GRAPHIC.***

It got me thinking that, people are just not scared to post what they want anymore.  What ever happened to self control.  What happened to morals and what on Earth has happened to the human population.  Everyday I am reminded why I keep myself from people.  There are some really sick people out there and I am scared of coming across one face to face.

People, please be careful what you post out there.  And if you are going to post something like that above, make sure you are going to make your profile public so all can see.  Just imagine if a child stumbled across that.  Lord, it terrifies me to think that a person like that can friend my teenagers.  Which brings me to another point...

Don't accept people on your friends list that you DO NOT KNOW!!!!  You don't know who is out there lurking.  If your profile is not on public view, once you accept this stranger....they can find out anything they want to know, and the next thing you know...You are being made into a poem, like that above.
Be safe!
B

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Angry

I am having a really rough morning and it is only 7 am as I write this.  Since I am still not sleeping right, I find myself, angry all the time.  I get angry if the mailman is late, if the kids even look at me the wrong way, if my husband says something I take it out of context...  I don't know how to stop myself.

This morning the kids woke late.  My daughter was just take her sweet and easy time getting ready.  I asked her to please step up the pace and pretend she had someplace to go.  She turns around and screams at me and says, I'M TRYING.  Now I cannot explain to you the color of red that flashed in front of me.  It took everything in my power to stop from back handing her. 

Let me explain this.  My daughter is at the tender age of 14.  She has discovered friends, Chats and the telephone.  I feel like I have not spoken with her in months.  The only time we seem to speak is when she has a chip on her shoulder and we end up yelling.  Well, she will yell and I will tell her she better remember who she is talking to.  She is snapping at me and her dad like we are so far beneath her it would take us a year to come up to her level.  I understand some of this...for I once was a 14 year old teenager, that thought I knew everything..but I am coming to the end of the rope.

She proceeds to get up and get ready at a very slow pace.  She has already missed one day last week and another this week, and I was not letting them miss again.  Missing not because of being late, but because of being ill.  She has registration today for high school and they both have tests today, so getting them out the door was of most importance to me.  While they are looking for the shoes they came through the door yesterday and kicked off where they wanted, I went in to sit on the side of the bed to try and gather myself.

I could spend my every waking moment cleaning up after these kids.  At 13 and 14 you would think they would have the cleaning up after themselves down to a tee.  Not my children.  They come home from school, throw down their bookbags, kick off their shoes, go to the kitchen and get a snack, leave their mess (bread open, pb&j left out...) and then stumble off to their video games or computer and telephone.  Then when I become unhinged and start yelling, I am the biggest bitch in the world.  Mind you, this is a daily thing and I can't for the life of me get them to come out of it.

So while I am sitting on my bed, trying to calm myself so I don't knock my daughter to another universe, their dad goes out and tries smooth things out.  He then comes into me and says, If they don't make it you can't be upset...then...Try to remember what it was like when you were their age and your mom tried to get you up from over sleeping.

REALLY?!?!  Gee Rob, let me ponder that for a moment, shall I.  Oh yeah I remember...nobody cared if I over slept.  If I did it was an oh well.  That is why I had to drop out of school because I didn't have enough credits to graduate until I was 21.  That is why I missed upwards of 40 something school days in one year.  Maybe had someone cared enough to make my ass get up and out the door, I wouldn't have dropped out and maybe...Oh just maybe I could have made something of myself.  ANYTHING ELSE YOU WOULD LIKE ME TO REMEMBER!

So, they are now at school and I sitting here, still angry.  It isn't so much that they got up late.  I was dealing.  It is the fact that my 14 year old is yelling at me every single day now.  And I am scared that I am going to lose my temper, and not be able to check it before I haul off and give her the what for.  That's why I am angry.  I don't EVER want to hurt my children.  Between, them, not sleeping, unhappy with this place and seeing dread at my every turn...It's is driving me to the crazy house.  I use to be like this years ago.  When the kids were younger and since they were so close in age, I felt like they were defeating me.  And everyday I was yelling and screaming and in a bad mood.  I feel myself getting to that point again.  Usually I am always the one trying to calm everyone, trying to smile and play the inbetween man.  I like peace, I really and truly do.  But now, I have become the villian...and I don't like this role.

B