Saturday, January 31, 2009

Chronicle of My Own: Part 2, continued

"But I didn't do it." I sobbed. Mom says you shouldn't lie and I wasn't. But he was insistent that one of us had done it. You were supposed to tell the truth, but it wasn't working. I saw then what he had just pulled off a shelf. What was he going to use that for??? Eddie stood beside me followed me helplessly as I was roughly led down the trailer's hall to the bathroom, a worried 2 year olds stare on his face. He knew the look the man had. Our existence had depended on us knowing what that sort of look meant, after all we knew violence well.

The bathroom was soaked. Water was everywhere. My grown up senses now tell me that a pipe must've frozen up and burst in there that day...but I didn't know it then and my brother certainly would not have understood it. I was sobbing hysterically. What was wrong with grown ups? Couldn't they understand the truth. I could not understand why he didn't believe me.

"Look at this! You lying little brat!" He shoved me to the floor. Forced me to put my face to the carpet and see what he saw himself- a mess. "Now which one of you did this! I want the truth NOW!" It was then Eddie realized what he was going to do with the thing in his hands, fear was etched all over his face. What was happening? Why was it happening, his face read.

"I didn't do it," I caught myself-Eddie hadn't done it either,"We didn't do it. We didn't do it." It was too late, somehow this man had already made up his mind. And the board came down swiftly. Then he led us back into the living room, Eddie had just watched the horror unfold. It was not over. Mom had just gotten home and so he repeated his dilusion to her and proceeded to discipline me again. We slept on the living room floor in his trailer. I don't ever remember having a bedroom there. I sobbed all night long- the kind that leave you erraticly breathing in between sobs and sleep, your body wretching.

I believe that night was an epiphany of sorts for me. I had wanted to believe Mom would be able to make good decisions for us, surely she loved us that much. But I realized how blinded grown ups were, so blind that the truth could be in front of them and they'd never see it. It was in that night of sobbing my childhood was lost. Any hope to be one was surely left behind. Eddie and Amy were not strong enough, their characters and personalities would waver. They needed someone, and that someone wasn't mom. So I took it on myself. I gave myself up to help them. The only thing I wouldn't let go of was the truth. I decided then and there I would always tell the truth no matter what it brought me. I should've thought to lie...

I don't remember much of the part of my life between that night and all through that year or the years following. You could almost say I locked myself away somewhere but my body was going through the motions. I have a distinct feeling it wasn't good, but its apparently memories better left forgotten. The last memory I have of that trailer park was just before we moved from it and that small town all together. I was 5 by that time. The neighbor kid and I were playing, unsupervised, on the small metal porch of the trailer. He had the bright idea of jumping off of it.. I refused to, it didn't look like a good idea. That rotten kid pushed me off for refusing and I ended up in the emergency room with a rock embedded in my forehead,blood running everywhere. I still to this day have faint scar there. I have lots of scars actually..but I'm digressing from this part of the story.

There were always men coming and going from Mom's life. Once she realized what sort of situation we were in at Pink and White's place, she found a way to get out. But it damaged her further. She couldn't understand how it had happened. How could she find such cruel men? What was she doing wrong? The answer has always, always eluded her. But how could you really expect a 19 year old Mom to know these things, she hadn't had time to learn the lessons of growing up, because she was still a child herself- a child with more on her shoulders than she could bear. A child whose mother ignored her, berated her, and had left her in dark on things like how pregnancy was possible. Mom was never dumb, just niave.

From here on out, I tend to remember things best by what grade I was in. So I started my kindergarten year. We now rented a house, not a trailer, and we were in a different town. The house was run down. It had gray shingles as siding. a medium sized green front porch. A small back yard. One bedroom, mice in the walls (I thought they were cute though). An old clawfoot tub in the bathroom. Peabody Avenue. This street I still to this day have difficulty driving down. And I hate the color pink, but you'll see why as I continue on with each phase of my childhood.

And this was also the year that I met my dad,Tony. Delmar Anthony Elswick. A man who was either drunk or high on some drug, but always professing the merits of Christianity.(side note here, do you know for all the jail time and crap that that man has done and he is the only one who had a fit over the tattoo I have on my right arm? According to him, I was polluting my body- Can you believe that???) Pcp used to be a favorite of his I've been told, so was huffing paint. Apparently shortly after Mom found out she was pregnant he had gotten so high on pcp he though he could fly..literally and was on the top of the high school building going to prove his discovery for all to see. I can't imagine the horror his mom must've felt.

Now his family, however, his mom (Mantie Louise, known in the family as Grandma Lou or Mamaw) Uncle Gary, Uncle David, Granny Hila and their counterparts- all of them were the most awesome people I have ever known. they had been taught to give love unconditionally. No matter the crap they pull or get themselves into. I have witnessed with my own eyes Grandma and Granny when she was alive, give complete strangers with known criminal histories hugs upon first meeting them. I was speechless the first time I saw her do it in her own house.

This part of my family originates from Kentucky- the Appalachian Mountains. There's a little town called Whitesburg at the foot of Pine Mountain. And as you drive up the mountain, there's a road just off the left by a lone senior citizen building. As you turn up that road, you'll soon see on the left a dirt paveway, no bigger than the width of a car, crawling up the mountainside. Collier road, after the family name. We even have our own cemetary up there. It is the most beautiful place I've ever been. But that is later in the story.

You should know I have very strong convictions about poverty because of my past experiences. If anyone, anyone ever tells you there are no homeless or poor people in a rural area-they don't have a marble in their head. Poverty is in some ways, easier to hide in a rural setting. Domestic violence however, doesn't know economic boundaries like poverty does.

So back on Peabody Avenue, Mom didn't have a car and we were welfare prodigys. The welfare people did a good job of promoting to tax payers that the system was being abused and I admit there are a few people out there like that, however having said that, what they didn't tell the public is the conversations between them and the welfare family. They told mom not to work because she would make more money on welfare than she could by getting a job. Believe me, she kept asking about getting a job. There was something about the notion that a job could give you back your integrity, your being, a sense of self worth I think- that appealed to her. She wanted to be better, to prove she could be better than this.

So without a car, mom got a little red radio flyer wagon instead, and she would load Eddie and Amy in it, while I walked alongside her wherever we needed to go. The grocery store (behind it where they used to throw the outdated food out at-that was the part of it we frequented), the trailer park about 7 miles out of town where her two sisters lived with their children, the landlords place, and so on. My boss recently visited Miami Village (the trailer park I'm referring too) for a family who was asking about Habitat, he nearly fell on the floor when he came back to tell me what he saw and I then I said I knew the place well.

Soon, my third grade year was approaching...and Mom just met a new guy. a guy she liked, who was nice to her and said all the things she wanted to hear. That man was a snake, but I knew Mom wouldn't have listened if I'd tried to tell her. He even sat me (not Eddie or Amy) on his lap and asked my permission to marry my mother. My answer, looking straight at mom, was "if that's what Mom wants and it will make her happy." Grown ups never want the truth, they want the fairy tale....

Friday, January 30, 2009

A Chronicle of my own: Part 2

"Even When the rains fall, Even when the floods start rising, Even when the storm comes...I am washed by the water"- quote from Need to Breathe's Washed by the Water

"Don't tell me if I'm dying cause I don't want to know. If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go. Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming of Angels on the Moon. Where everyone you know, never leaves too soon. Do you believe in the Day that you were born? Tell me do you believe. Do you know that every day is the first of the rest of your life?....." quote from Thriving Ivory's Angels On the Moon.

I heard these two songs today on the way up to Elkhart's Habitat for Humanity.When I'm by myself, I flip through stations alot until a song catches my attention. Neither of these I had heard before today and I had to look them up on the internet to properly quote them, but for my story- I think they're appropriate....

Mom had finally broken free of the nightmare of moving from small town to small town. When there is violence in the family you must always move, too many nosy neighbors you see. None of their damn business what we do as a family he would say.
So, we were finally free.I was 4. My brother Eddie was 2, my sister Amy, 1. I had developed a love for singing. And I sang to everyone, all the time. My little fist would be my microphone. My brother and sister hated it.That brief period between Mom's first husband and her next boyfriend allowed me a small window of opportunity to find a way to comfort myself, a way to heal. It was in singing that I, at 4 years old, found this.
We lived in a run down trailer court, one of the worst ones in the area. After all, Mom was by this time 18 and had already had 3 kids to raise on her own. I think the thought of being alone in parenthood and still a child herself who felt unloved scared the hell out of her and is what ultimately drove her decisions along the way.
I remember watching mom dance with my younger sister in her arms with music such as Dolly Parton, Anne Murray, and the Judds blaring through the house. Music was the only thing that I had ever seen make her smile and feel free. I wanted to smile and feel free too, so I sang to about everything that came across my little mind.
My brother was a happy kid for the most part at that time. And it is the only time in his life I can remember him being so carefree and happy. I have never seen that side of him since. I had done my best at that tiny age to shield him from the worst of the things that his dad would do, so the small reprieve to be a child, a real child was new to me. It didn't last long. Those short happy times never did last long, but there were some happy memories- they were just far and few between the years.
In this trailer court Mom meet another guy. The Pink and White rusted trailer across the small trailer park. I don't remember his name but I remember how nice he was at first. Appearances are always decieving. My brother and I got a shiny red tricycle to share from him. I have a picture of us smiling on it in that living room, the one in the trailer he rented. We would run around outside, carefree as birds, all around that trailer park. No adult in sight. As I think about that, the horror of the "no adult in sight" strikes me, the parent I am now. But back then it was a freedom from hell for me. I learned early you couldn't trust anybody-not even your parents.

I began to develop a mind and a tongue of my own. I was a bit of a loner child. Always doing my own thing. Mom could never seem to relate and I later realized what it must have felt like to her (knowing her the way I do) to have your child say things that were way, way beyond her years. Mom was always intimidated by my intelligence-something she thought she lacked.These traits would both serve me well and hurt like nothing else ever could in my life.

I have to give you a little insight to my mom's side of the family before continuing on.

Mom's family is weird, bitchy, and a gossip train ( I reluctantly admit I am weird, but I refuse to claim the bitchiness or the gossip train- its just not my nature to be that way, in fact I despise it because it shows how little people think of others). There are very, very few men in our family. I believe the ratio is a little over 2:1. The kids in the family always gave the grandparents funny names and everyone in the family would use that name from then on out. For instance, My Mom's mother was known as "Grandma Gum" because she always had gum to had out to the kids (what I didn't know until much later in life was that Grandma Gum came from an orphanage. We have no idea where the family originates from). My Mom's mom is known as "Grandma Cow" because her and her husband lived next to a cow farm and my mother is known to my kids as "Grandma Horsey" because she still had a few horses when my oldest daughter was able to learn to talk.

Now then, continuing on with the story. Mom had no one to help her with us kids and she was looked upon like the rest of my aunts were in the family. They were viewed as never-going-to-get-anywhere-so-dumb-they-got-knocked-up-and-they're-fair-game-for-Gossip, even from their own mother.They were drop outs, "Your mom should've been my Boy," Grandma Cow would say or, "You damn near killed me in childbirth" I would over hear in their conversations. They (they family) could talk slander all day about so and so in the family, but no one would ever lift a finger to help the other. Their eyes never saw what was right in front of them. Ever.

So this new guy who was apparently nice was to Mom, was to her, a gift from heaven. But soon his true colors were starting to show. And I knew without a doubt that a storm was coming....

Thursday, January 29, 2009

"How many times must I break till I shatter?....." Quote from O.A.R.'s Shattered

Please forgive me, I have just gotten home from traveling around the state today for work. I did not get to bed until nearly midnight last night, cried alot (not because of the chronicle I posted, but for other reasons) and was back on the road at 8 this morning. It has been a long, long day and tomorrow will most likely be the same. I promise, I will post the next part to my story sometime tomorrow, when I have had more rest and I have had more time to think.

To Clay, Thank you for your support- it means more than you know to have such a friend.

Rab, I do not know about courageous, but I definitely understand the merits of truth-no matter how difficult or painful, the truth is always your best option and helps you see the beauty both inside yourself and outside of you.

Lynette, A wise choice of words.

Justin (I mean no offense by shortening it) Thank you as well. When you look outside of your own window of pain, you learn to see the roots of what causes it and why people do the things they do. This in turn helps you to understand the nature of what it is to be human, but not neccessarily humane.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

A chronicle of my own: Part 1

My bubble is cracking... and at the encouragement of my best friend Triana and the many blogger friends on here who have couragously shared their life experiences, I figure if Clay can share his detest for "the Lady Darrow" and Crystal can share her "Crazy Chronicles", I can be brave as well, therefore it all has inspired me to do something that will be very difficult to share...

My life story.

There are many reasons why I love the work I do and why I am such a dreamer in some ways. But after carefully thinking this through, I believe its time to let others know why I am the way I am. Its time to explain how "the bubble" came about...

This story starts when my mother was a freshman in high school. A lonely, shy type of girl she mixed herself in with a bit of the wrong crowd (you'll find she does this alot throughout her life). It was during this time she met my dad: A drug addict with dreams and a shattered self esteem, most of which was his own undoing.

My mother had been taught that you could only get pregnant from kissing (you would think my grandma would have learned that that little white lie wasn't working since my oldest aunt became a mom at age 14) and so became the start of my rocky existence.

When my Grandma found out mom was pregnant, she made her take quinine pills-to abort me. If Grandma had known then what I know now about quinine- she would have found something stronger to do the job. But she didn't, she chose to believe the wave of popular belief common in those days and because of that I exist.

My dad and mother never married. Instead, Grandma and Grandpa condoned a marriage to another man nearly twice my mothers age a few months before I was born. I don't know all the details on how all this transpired, but my maiden name became Shatzer instead of Elswick, as is my dad's last name..

Mom, dropped out of school and the man she married was a violent man. They say you're not supposed to remember things before your 5th birthday, but I tell you one of my earliest memories must've been when I was 3 or 4, perhaps younger. I remember being thrown up stairs for not eating my plate, I remember being beaten with a belt because my younger brother and I put toys down the heat register to listen to them slide all the way down. I remember so many things. Things that put life into perspective for me and help me to appreciate all kinds of people. I understand the core of human needs- both emotional and physical.

Mom eventually found a spine somewhere and left him, but only when he wasn't looking. At that point there was Myself, my brother, and another one on the way. From then on Mom was never good at picking out relationships to be in and it started the downward spiral of our childhood journeys....

So much for peace today

I'm listening to Five for Fighting right now (a favorite band of mine)

-Im more than a bird...Im more than a plane; More than some pretty face beside a train; Its not easy to be me....Wish that I could cry; Fall upon my knees; Find a way to lie; About a home Ill never see;It may sound absurd...but dont be naive; Even heroes have the right to bleed;I may be disturbed...but wont you concede; Even heroes have the right to dream

Its not easy to be me-

Now on to write my feelings down.

I don't want to be one of those women. The kind who never have anything nice to say. The kind that are never satisfied.

So when I think about my relationship with my husband, please let me make one thing clear, he is not a bad person. We are just simply two different people trying to make a life together that doesn't work well because we are toxic to each other. I can't stand to be in the same room with him anymore and he can't stand me. Love has nothing to do with it, if it did it would be enough to make it work. Its not. I'm ambitious, he's not (he's not lazy, just not driven like I am). I strive to do as much as I can, he's content with being home.

Yes, opposites can attract in a good way-but in this case we bring out the worst in each other.

Below is what I wrote out of frustration this morning. But after reading it, I realized how berating and ungrateful I sound.

I thought I'd get a little rest,maybe think things thru. But nope, that didn't happen. 5;30 am and the phone is already ringing today. Did I mention that I don't like early mornings too well? At home, I get up at 6:30 am-to get the kids ready and off to their respective places (oldest to school, younger two to the sitters, and me to work by 8).

I just want to cry somedays, just cry. I just want to be able to lay my head on someone's shoulders and say out loud "Dammit why am I never good enough?"

This is part of the reason I've been having trouble writing, when I'm stressed and worked up it makes it hard to think freely. I suppose I should be content with the fact that its only 3 calls this morning from him, it used to be 10 or more a day (it didn't matter if I was at work either, he always calls and wants me to fix things, he would demand that I come home to fix it- but if I tried mind you, it would never be good enough)...then they came out with texting.. ugh.

There are other things he does, things that sometimes scare me, things that my own personal red flag warnings tell me its time to go, time to leave this mess..but we have children you see and I don't know how to fix this. 9 years and I should've known, should've been able to see what I was getting into...

Excuse my writing rants here, I did warn earlier in a post that I was starting to share more personal things than I should. But i'm so tired, so empty. And only one lonely tear streaking down, because that's all the effort its worth.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Another Chapter as promised

If you read this, I ask only that you leave your feedback on what you thought of it and what you would change, if anything. Thank You!


A chapter of Kipleyarren
Authored by: April L. Gerard aka findingmywingsinlife

He was exhausted. Weary to the bone. But he knew he had to continue on. The strange happenings, the cold distant feelings that some of the other races harbored towards one and another, the dying land,and now this. It was all connected. All of it. How stupid he had been all these years. Never once… he thought as he trudged on throught the low mountainous region..not once did he think…not even when she showed signs. His feet seemed nearly impossible for him to pick up, but he did not dare to try to fly and his exhaustion was about to overtake him. He had gone too long without substance, fearing that there was no time for it. And he worried that he might never see her again. His thinking was muddled and foggy. He should have pieced it together long before this, he should have known, he thought. He should have done more for her. He saw it all, saw how she had been wisked away without any disturbance to those she was around. He had blinked his eyes in disbelief that such magic existed still. And he had tuned out the other child in his clamor to fit the pieces together in his mind. He had left the village then on swift decisions. He needed to hunt down those who kept guard of secrets. He needed to save her.
And with that last thought, he fell to the ground. In the distance of his mind’s eye, far off to a memory deep within his mind he began to hear the sweet sounds of childish laughter echoing in his ears…
“Over the hills and up the Trees, we fly so high and mightily!...”
Two girls not yet turned 9 years were singing with their long dark wavy hair dancing with the wind while they twirled up around the Garden Tree in the Meshaw Village. The sun shone so brightly that their wings shimmered like sequins, each casting off different colors. They were twins, two devoted sisters that loved to spend each waking moment with each other.
It was forbidden for any Fairie to use their wings in flight, the girls knew this for their parents taught them well, but mischief was a part of their nature and the freedom in the wind was all the enticement they needed. Besides, all the village people of Meshaw and surrounding villages were gathered at the other end of the village awaiting the March of the Elders in the Fairie Woodland March.
It was a celebration of the history of the Fairies, the Elders marched with their silvery robes and each held a staff carved with markings that told a story about the line of Fairies that that Elder represented. This celebration would start at the Northern most village in the woodlands and circle inward, like that of a snail’s shell, passing thru each of the seven original Fairie Villages until the line of marchers ended up in the center, at the eldest village- Meshaw Woodland Village.
This event would bring storytellers, Seers, and gamers for all to enjoy. The good, bad, and the ugly would be told in various stories and legends. The children would gather in anticipation around the Central Garden to await someone to share with them stories of the triumphs, the victories, and of the leaders who led the way and gave continuance to the line of Fairies.
The march would stop precisely at the Garden Tree in the Central Garden and Festivities would then begin. The festival lasted nearly seven days, in honor of each original line. It was the most sacred, yet most enjoyed and anticipated event for all Fairies each year.
The time was approaching and the girls could sense it. The air smelled richly of anticipation and excitement. The girls, however, paid no heed for they were waiting for a special someone to arrive. Someone who cared about them, loved them, and shared his stories with them. He was not expected by anyone, but those two little dark haired beauties knew he was coming. His name was Uncle Vasper.
Not fifty yards away, a man who looked to be in his late 20’s, with dark wavy hair and laughing brown eyes, watched as the girls chased each other around the Garden Tree. He couldn’t help but smile, for it was not the first time he would have to reprimand them for flying in full view of the public. He himself did not feel that the law forbidding Fairies from flight was right, but the Elders had agreed to it with Queen Domta Cree and therefore no one would think to disrespect their decision. It was of course said to be for everyone’s safety and well being.
But how does one explain that to two very precocious little Fairies. How does one say to them that they have to give up something that all Fairies were born to do. “Ah, young ones,” He thought, “they never quite understand the nature of rules and regulations that we grown ups set in place. But then, neither do I and I’m a grown man.” He shook his head and headed towards them.
As he reached the tree, he heard raucous laughter coming from them. He crossed his arms and tried to look as stern as possible and said, “Folie and Shanandra! What in the name of the Litara are you doing?”
“Uh-oh??” Folie, the youngest twin peaked around the Tree and her big green eyes were wide with joy, “Uncle Vasper!! Shanandra! It’s Uncle Vasper! Come on!!” and Folie flew down to him as fast as her wings would allow.
“It’s going to be so wonderful Uncle Vasper! I can feel it! It’s like there is something new on the way. Something so very lovely!” squealed Folie.
“Hold on now, young one. It’s just the annual Woodland March that’s got you so anxious. Come Shanandra, don’t let your sister here talk my ears off, then I couldn’t listen to either of you anymore!” Shanandra did as he asked and he couldn’t help but smile at the big blue eyes that stared up at him.
They walked, holding hands, across the village towards the home of the twins and the girls listened raptly to his stories of his travels around Kipleyarren. Folie of course, had to squeal with excitement and gasp and giggle. Shanandra just smiled and listened, looking up at him adoringly, content to let her twin do all of the talking.
Suddenly, Folie screamed as though in pain and burst into tears, falling to her knees. “Uncle Vasper, it’s hurt. Look at it! Oh why would someone hurt it! What could it have possibly done!” There at Folie’s knees, was a bunny, still alive but just. It looked as though someone’s hand had deliberately and unmercifully broken each limb methodically. It had been tortured and tormented without reserve or hesitation. Folie’s tears streamed down her face as she lifted up head and said softly, “Uncle Vasper please make it better. I can feel it, it hurts so much. Please??”
“I’m sorry, young one, there is nothing I can do. You must let it go and be at peace that you gave it so much compassion at the end of it’s life.”
“No!! I won’t let it die! It wasn’t its time yet!” and she laid herself protectively over the suffering rabbit and sobbed.
“Uncle?” whispered Shanandra as she tugged at his shirt sleeve, “Uncle look,” She said again, pointing towards Folie’s wings and her protrusions that crowned her head and encircled her wrists and ankles. He looked, and in disbelief, saw Folie’s endowments glow and shimmer green. Vasper looked nervously around and gently bent down to wrap his arms around Folie. He lifted her chin to see a see a tear streaked face that was, to his astonishment, smiling again.
“Look, Uncle, he’s all better now!” Folie held the rabbit in her arms and spoke very softly to it.
“ Folie, we must leave now. No one must know what has happened here. I will speak with your parents later tonight after the festivities die down. I know it is hard for you to understand, but please, both of you, promise me you won’t say anything to anyone?” He again looked around cautiously and looked at the girls, who although did not understand, were silently shaking their heads yes. They knew instinctively that Uncle was never wrong about these things.

He woke with a start. Looking around frantically, in confusion, until he realized with sudden ease what had caused him to wake. A slender, cool hand was cupping his face and a voice was pleading with him to wake up. His eyes searched for where the sound was coming from and found a familiar face. Surprise enveloped him and showed in his eyes, but then he lifted his own hand to touch hers and said, “Thank you for finding me.” He took the drink that was offered to him. He was in a somewhat delusionary state, being both deprived of nourishment and weary to the bone, but he did manage to say “I am glad you will be with me on this journey, but it will be dangerous. I had hoped to keep you from it and I see now that there is no help for it.” With that, he drifted off to his dreams once more, this time another memory surfaced..

“Are you sure of it?” said Meg Melorin, the twins’ mother. It was late during the night and the two young ones had been sent to bed while the adults, Meg, Brenvont, and Vasper stood in the quaint kitchen area with only the faint glow of a fairie globe lighting the room (much like the glow of a candle). Meg had sat and listened to Vasper relay his story about the events that had occurred earlier that day with the girls. Her girls. She was stunned and unprepared for this, though she knew it was only a matter of time before the true heritage of the Melorins would surface.

After listening to all that Vasper had to say, Meg quietly stood up. She reached for Brenvont, who was crying, and pulled him close to her like a child. She stood there stoically, holding him and yet giving him a small measure of respect for his compassion. She was the matriarch of the family, their leader and protector as it is with all the women of fairies. Vasper was asking them to realize the danger that had presented itself and her own silent tears began to give way and show her own worry and fear at what could happen.
Brenvont looked over at Vasper and almost whispered, “ It just seems so impossible, our little girl doing such a thing. She’s only 9 years old.”
“Vasper, Brenvont and I have gone to great lengths to keep the girls and our family safe, you know that. Now you’re asking us to move away from the oldest village known to fairies and away from our heritage. Our worst fears are coming to surface and we can’t allow people to find out, not with what’s been happening to the Fairies.”
Vasper was all too aware of what was happening to the Fairies. The Carfens were gone. The Nubiens were extinct, or very near so, discarded by most of the races out of misguided fear. But Vasper understood something others did not, the fear was born from those who would take what was not theirs to take. There was a dangerous, malicious movement happening and it was taking the races unawares. Even the humans have become more wary than usual. There was something in the air everywhere he traveled it seemed. It was one of the primary reasons he chose to voice his concern.
Vasper took a long, steady breath. He knew within his heart he was losing this battle. Meg and Brenvont had moved to Meshaw Village shortly before most Fairies began to realize the couple’s anticipation in being expectant parents. They made the decision then that this would be the best place to protect and raise their child and to their delight they were greeted with twin girls at delivery.
No one else, save for Vasper and Meg’s late parents knew of the true heritage bloodline that flowed in their veins. It would not do for it to be discovered thru a child’s inadvertent use of an old magic found only in that bloodline. For to be discovered, could mean certain death at the hands of those who covet power. The problem was in the not knowing who was seeking the Powers out.
He looked at both Meg and Brenvont. He had been looking forward to a mere short visit with the girls. Though he loved his sister and would do as she asked, He did not care to be held in the confines a Matriarchal environment. He longed for the day when men would be seen as equal counterparts to the women of Fairies. This is why he had asked his sister long ago to recommend to the council that he be appointed as a Messenger. It was the only duty available to a man that gave him his own freedom to come and go as he pleases. So long as the Messengers bartered the trading with the outside races and brought news of the events going on in the outside world to the council and queen their independence was tolerated.
Vasper sighed, this battle was lost with his sister and it would not be wise to force the issue. “I see you’ve made up your mind then? I only spoke of moving in the interest of the girls’ well being, to keep them safe.”
“Vasper, I know you care about us and you are right, we do need to be careful with the girls, especially now that we know what Folie can do. For now we will not disrupt their lives and move them somewhere else. We will stay here in Meshaw, if we felt safe anywhere, it should be here among our roots.” Meg stated.
Vasper could feel Meg’s long stare as his head hung low. He wondered if she realized that one day she would have to tell the council about them. He knew that his sister was already trying to decide for herself the best way to keep her girls safe. For now, she would not tell them of the heritage resting in their veins. The family secrets would remain with her. Although, she sometimes seemed to forget that he and Brenvont knew the family lore as well as her. Their station in life just made it easy for her to dismiss them and to feel as though her dominance would keep them from disclosing to the twins their true nature. In the future though, he if she would be able to keep him from doing so…

Traveling, Writing, and Thinking alot

Well this week is traveling week... and it wasn't supposed to start until tomorrow morning. However, the weather around here has a mind of its own and didn't agree with me and so I spent most of the day driving to Bloomington, Indiana to start my mid year site visits. Though it was unexpected (and there are always idiots trying to drive in bad weather who endlessly forget that it snows and hails around here) the night away is welcome, although I'm missing out on a bunch of friends getting together tonight to listen to local musician Hubie Ascraft play, at least that's what I was told on the phone as I pulled into the parking garage here at my hotel :(

Anyway, I think I need the time to myself-the serenity of silence. And while I'm here, I'll work on the chapter I said I'd post and have it posted before I lay my head down for the night. So check back and leave comments on what you think or what could be fixed.

Honestly..I think I know exactly what's wrong with me and I just don't want to say it out loud. As if wanting more out of this life is the most selfish thing to say.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Strange callings

I have been diligently working on my book and feeling frustrated with it. A couple of days ago I thought to myself "I need some help with this, someone to talk it out with ,test out my ideas and help me to put onto paper what's in my head" and do you know what got stuck in my head next???

New York.

New York??? I don't know anyone in New York! Let alone ever been there...and what does that have to do with my book? My book is fiction, doesn't exist except in my head-and I'm having a hard time getting it out of there... I know what happens, the beginnings are for the most part written down and I know how it ends- its the damn middle that's frustrating me. (sorry for the foul language, not normally in my vocabulary)
I wonder why I keep thinking of this. Hmmm...

Sunday, January 25, 2009


I did not post yesterday as I usually do. I was taking some time for myself and piecing me back together. I did have a long and frank conversation with my husband... it hurts, but I'll mend. We'll see where things go from here.

In other news, my friend has found someone she's really into, which is odd for her. Never does she gush and mush and look so happy its ridiculous. But I'm happy for her, if ever someone deserved to smile, it is her. Good luck Triana, and I'll break his legs if he breaks your heart..sorry Jay..that's just the way it is :)

Welcome Butterfly Dreamer and Beloved Dreamer, may you each enjoy what you read on here.

For Clay and Noelle, and anyone else hoping that I'll post another chapter of Kipleyarren- I'm polishing up one to share with you..just be patient with me as I'm a slow writer. Meticulously slow.....

Friday, January 23, 2009

I could say today was another day...

but I won't. It was actually kind of funny! (in a humility and humbled embarrassment sort of way).

1. I cut myself on a file folder I was working with. The kind that you have to use a two hole punch at the top of your papers in order to stick them over the metal tabs. It was the metal tabs that got me...and I didn't even feel it! I should have felt it though, it cut a little deep. All the while I sat at my desk, saying this out loud to myself and both my boss and my other co-worker ignored me-because I sounded like an idiot talking to myself :)

2. If you can't laugh over this one, somethings wrong. My boss walked into the bathroom as I was using it. Dummy me didn't push in the lock... and God,the comedian that he is, had to make women have menstual cycles.... I'm sure my boss was scarred for life more than I was.

Oddlly enough, it all made me feel normal. I don't normally post such things, but here in the last week or so I've been breaking that rule of mine. I've been sharing deeper things lately, I'm not sure how I feel about that but- I already let the cat out of the bag, so there's no way around it now.

I feel much better about things on the home front as well (or at least got a better handle on things) and I added yet another chapter to this fiction book of mine. Sorry guys, but its far from done. Noelle, Clay, Lynette, Colonel, Dave, Gary, and Triana- thank you for your blogs and commentaries, you each have given me much to be inspired once again and help me (whether or not that was you intention) to learn to believe in myself. I hope you each continue to share your thoughts, musings, and whatever else you happen to be thinking of on your blogs. Oh, and Kris, bless you for being a man on the other side of the world , of whom I know nothing about, who understands the echo of screaming kids long after it has stopped.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Lessons for the Heart

I will grow,
I will learn from this.
I will understand one day
the meaning of this.
I will not falter so much
that I cannot move forward.
I will ride this out until
we decide what fate is ours to take.
I will not allow my soul
to be damaged beyond repair.
I will grow and learn from this,
And if, in the end
You decide another path,
then surely that is your right.
I do not want you
to live unhappy-even if I must find
my way...alone.
I will grow and I must learn from this.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

My world is teetering...

...on the edge of well, I can't think of a really good way to say it, on the edge of a thin blade maybe?

I must be in a nightmare this week I think. It started out wrong to begin with on Sunday, and last night... well lets just say I was informed that while I was loved- I didn't seem to fit into the picture anymore. I don't fit??? But what do you call the last nine years??? I admit, it was not easy to hear this. Although, I needed to hear it- to know where to go from here and I realize now how much more work I need to do to help keep this thing together. This is the kind of moment that makes you feel really small and everything else I have going on seems so doable compared to this.

Let's see what tomorrow brings, I'm bracing, because in my family the saying always goes, "When it rains, it pours".

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

A Chapter to Share with You

Here is one of the chapters, I may change things as this is a very rough draft, but I think I may have this be the first chapter of the book. Read on, enjoy, and please leave your feedback so that I may learn and revise things as needed.

The Last Elder

A chapter of Kipleyarren
Authored by: April L. Gerard
(aka findingmywingsinlife)
All rights reserved and retained by author

Her back stooped slightly over as she labored to walk the lane to her home. The silky sheen of her once beautiful wings that had been the talk of envious fairies, were now faded to a milky white gray that matched her long tresses atop her head. She moved with a simple grace that belied she could still be young yet, if only in the wits of her mind. That was something she was sincerely grateful for. Though her body showed the weathered signs of an aging woman, her mind and tongue never wavered. She still had presence of mind to speak her peace when and where it was needed, and she never seemed to lose her ability to discern the best way to go about a conversation that for some, would overrun and overwhelm them.
She let her eyes rest on her garden up ahead, just to the side of her home. Oh, what beauty nature seemed to bring her way each time she carefully pruned and prodded her plants, as if they were her children who could never quite be forgotten. Children, she mused to herself, so much like those around her these days. Her thoughts wandered to history, long forgotten by those to young to know what has been lost to the knowledge of the living races. The fairies no longer knew what should have been held dear to their hearts. Her thoughts wrapped around a time, long ago, when she was a mere little girl. A time when she was barely able to learn to fly…..

It was the time of the Melorins, the rulers of the Fairie people. Vaelry Melorin was Queen and her husband Brenowen was King. Vaelry and Brenowen had been born as all Leihn Faries were. They each had Nelayhs (Nay-lays), oval bonelike protrusions circling their wrists, ankles (like bracelets), and their heads like crowns. No other fairy creatures, save for the Leihn Faries had them. But then, each of the fairy races were known for different reasons. The difference between Vaelry and other Leihn Faries however, laid in those Nelayhs. It was where her bloodline’s power could be found.
In the very center of her forehead was the largest of ovals, colored a light yellow, as were the rest of her protrusions. She was fair skinned, light haired, and armed with compassion for all life forms that occupied Kipleyarren. Like many of the Liehns throughout time, lineage was traced through the women of Fairies, not through the men and thus Vaelry’s colored protrusions represented the powers passed on to her through her bloodlines. The Melorin Bloodline. Green gave the gift of healing and sometimes the gift to talk to, as well as, understand all life forms. Yellow, such as hers, gave the gift of intuition and foresight. Red was the gift of light and fire. And then there was the last color, Blue. Blue was the strongest of all the powers within this bloodline. It gave the gift of wisdom and a host of many other abilities that are largely unknown because so few of the Melorins were endowed with it. In fact, only two had been born with Blue in the history of all the Fairies. Of those two, Vaelry’s great-great-great grandmother Radena Melorin, was the last to wield its power.
Vaelry and Brenowen had defeated the Human Empress Bettina and Fairie Warlord Andermon. Bettina had entered into an agreement with the wretched warlord to divide the lands amongst one another, in order to enlist his help to engage in war with each race and nation. Their intentions were to rule all without mercy. Bettina was set on gaining power over all life forms living on the west side of Kipleyarren, while Andermon would control the east. She sought out those who would follow her and persecuted those who spoke out against her. In her mind, she was the great ruler of all time, but in reality she cruel, vain, and power hungry.
After the wars, the Empress had enslaved the Tigris people and ordered all sprites to be captured and handed over to Andermon. The Tigris people were human-like in form. They did not have wings like the Fairies or the Sprites, but their skin was various shades of brown with stripes similar to that of a tiger, hence the name “Tigris People”. They were hunters of the forests and wielded the loyalty of one of the most impressive creatures in Kipleyarren, the Griffins. Tigris’ were gentle at heart but usually kept themselves well reserved and commanded a measure of respect from all who meet them, though they never asked for it. When they were enslaved by the Empress, it was clearly an insult to their entire Nation.
The Sprites, however, were tiny creatures. They stood only four to five inches tall and had translucent, slender wings attached to their backs. Many of the Sprites were regarded as friendly and knowledgeable. They resided here and there amongst each of the races and one could see them observing or accompanying friends of the other races, friendship held no boundaries for them. The Sprites were, essentially, the oldest known creatures of Kipleyarren. They were known to live extremely long lives, some lasting as long as 900 some years and were the common thread that existed between all the races. For them to be captured and handed over, and ultimately killed in one way or another, was to unravel the precious fabric that held every human, tigris, sprite, and fairie together in the land of Kipleyarren.
The Elder’s thoughts wandered back to the present. She pondered the years since those incredibly dark times. Things have been moving forward it seems. The inhabitants of Kipleyarren have become more aware of one another, yet drawn further apart trying to escape their differences born out of fear and/or ignorance. The Elder paused for a moment, though Valerie and Brenowen had finally brought an end to the terror raging through the land at that time, no one could have guessed at extent of the devastation created by two of the most vain and powerful leaders of their time. The impact, the Elder guessed, was not fully comprehended then, nor, has it been since. She feared that the current climate of events has taken a decidedly dangerous turn, caused from years of mistrust, deception, and discrimination amongst each of the races that had its seeds laid in those dark ages. And recently, the Elder discovered another plot of power hungry individuals. Though time has passed, evil had found it roots in a new set of hands. It was time to find those who would fulfill a destiny laid out many, many years ago…..

Monday, January 19, 2009

Where did this day come from????

Take a step back and breathe, just breathe.

Can I have a restart for this day? Well, there's no harm in asking I suppose. I took some time off of work today just to help my mom get a few things done. In the midst of the running around, I explained to her my concerns about her medications and I kid you not, she looked at me with eyes lighting up and said, "Really?" She was absolutely happy about it! I looked at her like she was an alien from Mars and said," Mom, I just basically told you the meds have the potential to sharply shorten your life span and your happy about it???!"

Her reply was simply this,"I don't want to be mean like my mother is and I don't want to suffer any longer than I have too." Can't argue that one with her but it doesn't mean I have to like it. In the car, on the way to our next stop, she looks at me and says, "You know what April? God granted me one wish I didn't think I'd ever get."
"Whats that Mom?"
"To forget all the awful things I went through as a child. And now, with this, I get to forget. Just not the way I thought."
Oh, man. I thought, this is going to be a hard day. And it was. We went to Applebee's again for lunch (she likes it, but can never remember ever being there) and she certainly did not remember the dessert shooters or how much glee she had professed over them the last time we ate there. It's always so difficult and I hate even saying that out loud because I'm not the kind of person who likes to wine and complain about the way things sometimes are.
The topper of the day:
I dropped off Mom back at home and headed in to work. My boss asked about my weekend and I joked about my rear ending experience and the nosebleed incident- and wouldn't you know it, my nose started bleeding AGAIN! It dripped onto my white shirt and so I ran to the bathroom to get a wet paper towel on my nose and then kept the water running as I stretched my shirt underneath the stream to rinse out the blood before it stained the shirt. So there I sat at my desk the rest of the afternoon with a paper towel plastered to my nose, a wet white shirt, and I looked down only to find that I had missed the drips that had made it onto my khakis. I still have a meeting down at the local coffee shop to make an appearance for......the words Oh Man! don't even cover it.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Accidents for me!

I got hit by a car today. I'm fine, the van is fine, but there is something seriously jarring when a person rearends your vehicle and your looking around like an idiot trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Here's the funny part: Earlier today, because of the dry coldness in our area, I was battling a nose bleed that wouldn't give up. So when the police officer showed up to check things out and saw that I had a tissue plastered to my nose his response was,"Did you hit your head on the steering wheel or something?"

"No, I actually had this nosebleeding issue before this happened. Really, I'm fine. Just a little shook up is all."

"You had your seat belt on right?"

"Yep, I did." And I almost quipped back to him,"No, I just thought I'd go without it for a day." but I'm pretty good at not reacting on first impulses and so I didn't say it.

All of this just to get to the coffee shop where there are no kids screaming, no husband yelling, and only the sound of me typing away on another chapter in my book. Well, ok, so there are distractions in a coffee shop, but they are not the home distractions that irritate me when I'm trying to think.

I'm contemplating

It occurred to me that people might want me to share a small excerpt of my book that I'm currently working on. I have to admit, I'm a little worried about whether or not I should. What I post might change as I continue editing and there is that small fear that people won't like it. Please let me know if you'd like me to post a portion and I'll decide from there what to do.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Noelle's Interview

Noelle, blog author of A portrait of the Human Heart, has "interviewed me" by emailing me these questions. I'm supposed to not only answer these, but offer to interview any one else who wants me to think of five questions I'd like to see them answer and post on their blog. So here's to interviewing...

1. What is one guilty pleasure that you can not live without?
This is a difficult question to answer, because most of the things I enjoy are things (that when push comes to shove) I really could live without. The only thing I'm pretty sure I can't live without in the here and now, is watching the silly things my kids do as they grow. It's amazing how much they have to teach us.

2. What song do you think defines you the most?
I like a lot of music, so its hard to find just one song that defines me the most. I think I would say "Hands" by Jewel and "Breathe (2 am)" by Anna Nalick. Hands defines my stubborn nature and wantingness to make a difference in the world and 2 am defines my insecurities.

3. If you could leave this life with only one earthly possession, what would you take?
I don't know, I'm not a possessions type of person. Its the intangible things that I value most and therefore would want to take with me into the next life.

4. What is your biggest regret in life?
I think there are some things that I wish I hadn't done, but I wouldn't change them because I've found you learn best from your mistakes. The one thing that I wish hadn't taken me so long to figure out though, is how much it's myself that limits my potential- not others, like we often think before thinking it through.

5. Which do you prefer, a small circle of friends or many acquaintances?

I think a healthy mixture of both is wise; a small circle of friends who hold your trust and confidence, while the many acquaintances you meet along the way can form new friendships, opportunities, viewpoints, opinions, and many other things that can prove to be invalueable. People, whether you agree with them or not, help you to see things with an open mind and can teach more than you thought possible in this journey we all call life.

Friday, January 16, 2009

My Dearest Friend

Thank you for always fillin' up my gas tank when I don't want to stick it out in the cold weather.
Thank you for always offering to repeat what others have said to me and I couldn't hear.
Thank you for always laughing at my sillyness and poking at "the bubble"
Thank you for always giving me criticism when I need it most.
Thank you for always believing in me and encouraging me to keep trying.
Thank you for always teaching me about the sappy side of life.
Thank you for always doing everything it is you do.
Thank you Always. What life would be like without you....I do not know, but I know that having you in it is what makes it better for me.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

A Poem for my Hopes

Eyes drooping
falling ever awake,
into this Dream
I wish to make.
Careful crafting
of the smallest detail,
surely this read
will spark a following trail.
My treasure of words
I've collectively sewn,
my hope that they become
a treasure of your own.

This is my way of sharing my hopes of what my book will one day mean to others. Its a way for me to remind others that creativity is necessary and should be indulged in. That is one of the reasons I choose to try to write this fiction novel of mine. Its getting closer...hopefully I can have the first manuscript done before the end of the year. 23 chapters and still going! But its painfully slow, having to fit the time in between both jobs, family, and sleep (can't go without that). Last night I stayed up until after midnight trying to write down some ideas that came to me. But that's what it takes sometimes-perseverance.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Discovering the world through the eyes of others

I have over the past year become fascinated with Blogger. Mostly for all the things I learn and the people I get to meet.The thoughts and conversations we each post, the uniqueness of each individual's perspective and ideas; these are the things that seem so intriguing. So many people with different views and different passions in different places, yet each just as human as the rest of us. I find it wonderful and....hopeful. Hopeful in the way that makes you think the world does indeed have a place where we can all come together.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Having Faith in Others.

My friend recently experienced a let down on putting her faith in someone and so, here is the latest edition to my attempt at comic creations... They are not always funny, but more of an attempt to depict the frustrations and confusing dilemmas that we always seem to find in life.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Beautiful pieces

I've been sitting here, thinking over my thoughts and writings. It occurred to me that I should take some time and review what I consider to be some of the most beautiful pieces of life and my reasoning for thinking so. So, here they are:

1. Letting your eyes take it all in. Doesn't it sometimes stir in you a strange curiosity and wonder when you just look at the world in front of you? It truly defies the concept of what we think we see and how we see it.

2. Hearing laughter and enjoying it yourself. Laughter has got to be one of the most delightful experiences we as human get. May we all enjoy some healthy laughter in our lives.

3. Friendship. Never was there something more needed or neccessary for us as humans experiencing a world full of ups and downs. To have at least one friend who maybe doesn't always understand you, but accepts you anyway- now there is something to be truly grateful for.

4. Lessons from a broken heart. I know that there are many people who would disagree with me on this one, but, hear me out. Without experiencing such a pain and loss, could we truly understand it? Would we allow ourselves to grow into something more, opening up to other insights without such experience and thus, enabling us to grow and be more thoughtful of what it is we seek and how to treat another soul? No, I don't think we can grow into such beauty without first recognizing the lessons from a broken heart.

5. The peaceful serenity of silence. Nothing can replace the parts of yourself you find when in silence with your own thoughts. Silence seems to give a clarity of being able to sort out things you couldn't otherwise because of the clutter of unneccessary sounds. I am partially deaf and found to my disliking the sounds that invaded my being the first time I ever wore hearing aids. I had never before heard the sounds of an air conditioner running, the quiet hum and buzz of a computer, the various noises the emit from cars (other than just the zoom as they pass), and a host of very unneccessary noises that fog up the brain. Those are the sounds that so many ignore and quite frankly don't even realize are there until they find a place of solitude. Such silence is good for the soul.

6. The electric shock of chemistry. A very rare, but passionate experience that everyone should have the opportunity to not only find, but keep. I can't explain this one as well for a lot of reasons, but just know that it is beautiful in my book. Now finding it...there's not a lot of help I give on that one.

7. Live music. Nothing spells out human emotions like music does. What beautiful creatures we must be to able to make such wonderful sounds (not the unneccessary ones though, I'm not counting those).

So, that is my list for now. What is yours?

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Just so you know

I haven't been really saying much about what's going on this way. I've been avoiding thinking about the things I don't want to deal with I think. For instance, my dad came in the office the other day- the first my boss had ever met him- and it wasn't for a hi, how are you doing but for a hey, your building some habitat houses here in town right? Could you get your boss to hire me so I have a job for the work release thing...? Ugh, you'd think he'd get that I am a daughter not a favors please person.

My mother. This one makes me ashamed of my own self sometimes. I watch her,or more accurately hear her on the phone, as she changes. It scares the hell out of me sometimes knowing that she won't move and she shouldn't live alone. I know my brother is there, but alcohol seems to be his problem too and denial. Denial that there is something wrong with mom. Denial that he doesn't make efforts to see his kids, denial, denial, denial. You know, I think I'm tired of peoples excuses.

The sad part is, I don't want to have to help with my mother. I shouldn't have too. No one her age should be hit with early onset dementia- she's only 47, yes I know she started the kid thing way early in life. This is the one time where I'm hollering that it's not fair. Not fair to her. Doesn't help that I'm worried about all the medication the doctor has her on. The studies that I've read show that the meds to help a person with these issues are also being linked to earlier deaths. How do you reconcile that? How do you tell her she must take them, when your scared outta your ass that they're killing her?

My best friend jolted me to reality the other day. I was perfectly content to put most of the blame of my crumbling marriage on my husband (its easier to blame someone else than yourself) but she was right. I need to work on my bubble issues... I could at least tell him that I do appreciate what he does do.

I always say my friend is the one whose the mess, but honestly, I'm beginning to think its me.

Friday, January 9, 2009

A little piece of peace and comfort

My youngest daughter, 2 years old, is sick (a touch of the flu I think) and has been curled up next to me most of the evening. She bent her head upwards to ask me if she could hold my hand, just as she realized her sleepy eyes were getting to heavy for her fight. And there we laid together. How easy it is for children to believe that parents have all the magic in the world and can make their world better in the blink of an eye. These are the moments that both terrify me and comfort me at the same time. Terrifying in knowing that I am only human and will make mistakes at this and comforting in realizing that for now she's content with just holding my hand and letting me love her. And I found a peace in being able to give her that. Surely tomorrow's parental worries that come as each of my children grow can wait until then?

Thursday, January 8, 2009

What I wrote once...

Facing Us

We look upon the face in the looking glass,
wondering if the reflection is our own.
And the realm of possibilities
seem distant, lost, and outgrown.
In disbelief we realize
Time is not relevant for you and me.
There is more to this life
than we had once thought to be.
Change is much easier
than a constant steady mold.
We cannot change who we are,
only what things we're told.

How my mind sometimes works in strange ways

what we drown out as we grow, we thought would protect us from that we did not wish to remember, but in the end -ever does it do more damage to be locked away from one's self.

The above phrase was what my mind thought after reading "Your Here to Learn" on Nature Diary. I find it interesting that the poem made me want to respond in such a way....

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

I dropped my heart...

on the floor. Literally it seemed. I almost cried as I realized that 2 1/2 years of diligent work on my book was nearly destroyed-on accident- by my boss's inatentiveness to what he was doing. I was working in the office, on both my desktop computer and the laptop. I had my jump drive (flash drive, memory stick, etc.) plugged in to the laptop. My boss came in to see what was on the desktop and to help me upload some software we needed. In the process he felt my laptop was in the way(it was on the other part of my desk, away from where we were working) and he moved it rather haphazardly and bam! I realized suddenly that he had in the process smashed my little stick into pieces and that they had fallen onto the floor. All that was left was a green board sticking out from the port.
Like I said, I dropped my heart or rather it stopped instantaneously right then and there. There were no words I could utter out of my mouth that would have expressed my sheer horror at the thought of losing so much work. The poor man couldn't even dechiper the look on my face, he was lost as to what it was he had done (he's absentminded more so than me).

His solution? piece it back together and wrap it up with duck tape.....right like that's going to work.

Lucky for me I was able to salvage everything and save it all on the laptop before trying to remove the lifeless green stick.

Empirical or Conceptual???

I went to a local pub, Deer Park, in Fort Wayne last night to visit with my friend Triana (and review our TV production for tonight) and to hear Trent Boston play-he's a local musician here in my small town of Columbia City who ought to be out touring w/ Third Day or something, he's that good.
Anyways, there was a fellow in there who decided he needed to sit beside me and introduce himself. Henry he said his name was. He was, well drunk...but a nice soul. I did have to continually explain the whole bubble space of mine (to be a future blog, but the short explanation is that I just don't like people getting too close or personal with me) but for the most part he was intelligent and young- the kind you could tell would have many life lessons to learn. He was from California, the southern end no less, and he chose to move here, to Fort Wayne-where it snows!!! And gets cold!!!!! The interesting part was how intuitive or maybe interpretive would be the correct way to say it that he was. I showed him my blog and of course Triana's blog and do you know what he said??

"I must be an empirical type of person, whilst my friend was a conceptual." I died laughing, not because of what he said but because of how it was said. I simply turned and said to Triana "Are you sure someone didn't just stuff you into a strange Asian boy's body who was by chance from California?" The poor guy had no way to know that the only reason I was so friendly was because he really did remind me so much of her, who is my best friend in the whole world. Isn't it interesting the people you meet on random intervals?

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Interesting solutions...

This article, while not wrapped in pretty packaged wording (nothing on Violent Acres is), does make a hell of a lot of sense, even if my own stubborness refuses to acknowledge it. I have tried this (just didn't know anyone else had thought of it until after reading this) and it a point.

As long as the only peace within the marriage that you're trying to find is with the daily chores, then this works great. But after that, good luck, 'cause then your talking about personality changes, personal habits, and physchological things that neither of you can change in the other person. That's a change only they can do, only if they know its a problem, and only then if they want to. You'll either learn to accept them or you won't. In which case you won't be able to stay in the marriage happily or you won't stay sane for least that's my theory for the day...I've been known to be wrong, so maybe I'm way off mark on this one.

Monday, January 5, 2009

No Limits

One of the people I met with over the weekend had an intriguing idea- what would you dream to do if there was no possiblity that you could fail? Imagine what things could be accomplished if people truly believed in themselves. I wonder if people would change course entirely if they thought for one second that what they wanted to do, they could do without fail. Perhaps this person I met was right, perhaps we should all look at our dreams with a realization that if that is our purpose in life, then we cannot fail can we. There are no limits to the possiblities we could each become....

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Weekend full of thoughts to review...

I've been really tired lately, always am, but I've never really gotten used to it. I'm not an Insomniac, just have other medical issues that refuse to let me get a good nights sleep and its catching up with me. Ah well, such is life, it could be worse- I could be having issues with walking and the likes.
This weekend, I met up with some friends I hadn't seen in a while (and left the computer at home, a reprieve I don't normally do). Bless them for being who they are and wanting to help fix an issue that I alone will need to deal with. But, all in all, I enjoyed Saturday. I went to lunch with 2 of the most beautiful people I know. Made good on a promise to my friend Deborah. I had said that I would go to her "Saturday" church. It was different, but good. I hadn't stepped inside a church since a teenager for anything other than weddings and what nots. But I am a lady of my word-and so I went. I then went to visit with my friend Triana and had dinner with her. For all her craziness and wayward decisions, I will always enjoy having her around.

Yeah, it wasn't a bad weekend..but I still need to sleep. And I need to ponder some more on the conversations that came up in all the visits and catching up.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

A Journey of New Days

or you could say a New Year for New Days. I like both. Either way, to have a new year, you must learn to make new days.
I had tried to post this yesterday. The internet connection did not cooperate with me after 5 or 6 attempts at it, so I gave up. I had literally tried to write exactly what I was thinking as I tried to help myself understand the obsurdity of celebrating only one day with such fervor as opposed to celebrating everyday with that same passion. Only to have it all disappear each time the connection was lost! It was so frustrating.
I really don't like it when technology gets in the way of my thinking....