So, I'm from California. Born and breed right here, I have the best of everything. From the sun, to the rain, from beaches to deserts to mountains, I have it all. And I love living here. But lately, my beloved California has become the center of much controversy, specifically with the recent Supreme Courts ruling that the ban on gay marriage is unconstitutional.
I felt the need to respond to those of you out there who are calling us, people who believe that gay marriage is wrong, haters and bible-thumpers. Let me just be sure that you understand that I am not choosing to condemn here. I am merely pointing out fact and a few thoughts. I will quote bible. I will tell you exactly what I believe about homosexuality. But please, do not judge or condemn me until you yourselves have read and contemplated our side of this debate. So, here goes:
In Leviticus, on 2 separate occasions, God tells Moses specifically that homosexuality is detestable:
Leviticus 20:13: If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death. Their blood shall be upon them.
Leviticus 18:22: Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable.
For those who believe that the Old Testament no longer is valid, in Romans, it says almost the exact same thing:
Romans 1:27: And likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompense of their error which was meet.
Would you condemn us for a belief that has been passed down for thousands of years? Something so ingrained in us that we have no choice but to fight for what we believe to be right?
This does not mean that I do not stand for tolerance. I have no problem with the gay and lesbian community. Most of them strike me as nice, and I even have a few gay friends. It seems this excuse is used more often then not, but it is the truth.
In all instances, be it murder, thievery, adultery, and yes, even homosexuality, we are called by Jesus to love the sinner and hate the sin. Does this make us haters creating hate-laws? Not if we love the sinner.
Look at this way: Read Leviticus 20:13 again: If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death. Their blood shall be upon them.
There is no blood on our hands...I don't see a bunch of bible-thumpers rushing to San Fransisco or Hill Crest and stoning anybody, do you?
Many argue that the Constitution does not have say anything about marriage, as well as citing Separation of Church and State as a by-word for the illegality of the law that California. I will not rant on it here, but please see my blog entry entitled "Separation of What?" and it will explain further why this is not a valid argument.
But allow me to address this issue anyway. The Framers of the Constitution, no matter how they try to tell you, came from a religious background founded on the Bible. History books today will tell you that some were Agnostic, some were Deist and so on and so forth. Let me remind you that even if this were so, psychologists tell us that what we learn in our early life stays with us into our old age. This is to say that in a society where everyone was a church-goer, and reading lessons came from the Bible, it was unlikely that a person did not have some moral and religious knowledge. Homosexuality was never a question to them. It was wrong to them, simply because of the scriptures mentioned above. Why would they put something that everyone knew into a document on how to run a government? That would be like saying don't forget to breath. It was that ingrained into them. That aside, "half of writing history is hiding the truth" (Serenity).
Anyway, my main point is that most of us don't have a problem with the people themselves. Or even their lifestyles, because we love the people. Its when you try to change laws that go against our very nature and belief system, our very foundation of government, that we begin to fight.
Would you condemn us for that?
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Time Goes Bye....
Hello, everyone out there in the blogging world.
I know its been awhile since my last blog, a month and half (much shorter then my year stint last time) but here I am, once again, pouring out my heart and mind to a world that may never read my words. Which is fine with me, by the way. It means no one can be critical of what I have to say and the way I frame my words.
So, that being said, I thought I'd give you all a basic idea of whats gone on in my life for the last month and a half that has kept me from my doing my duty as a blogger.
On May 20th, I turned 21. Its my first time being 21, so please, be gentle with your thinking. Contrary to the popular practice, I did not go to the 21 and up club/bar and get myself un-upstandingly drunk. No, my 21st birthday consisted of a great deal of wine.
See, well over a year and a half ago, I mentioned to my mom, who is amazing, by the way, that I would truly enjoy a wine tasting party, rather then just an average party where everyone makes Margaritas and Bloody Marys all night long. It was never mentioned again.
Well my mom, with her excellent memory, put together a wine-tasting party, in which we had a gourmet meal consisting of seven courses, and a different wine with each course. Was I tipsy at the end of the night? I think so. David even more so, considering he drank all the wine I didn't like.
This event was followed closely by the retreat of my lovely parents to visit my Aunt in North Carolina. I spent a week with my brother and grandmother, and went through an emotional roller coaster whilst avoiding another semi-nervous breakdown....this time, not over corn chowder.
Now, the main event that has taken place is the preparation for a little-known camp called Royal Family Kids Camp. For those of you who don't know, RFKC is a camp for abused and neglected children ages 6-11 who are in the foster care system. For one week out of the year, we take a group of these kids up to the mountains and let them just be kids again. They get to go hiking, work on wood-craft, go swimming, do science experiments, all the while learning of God's love for them.
Well, this year we were maxed out with 70 kids. Yep, you heard me, 70 kids. It was a 1:1 ratio adults to children. Which made all the staff exceedingly happy, considering last year we were worked to the bone before the week was over.
And what do I do at camp, you might ask? I am on staff. I am in charge of the science center as well as the drama....which is a lot of fun, but also extremely stressful.
Here let me go into some detail about the preparation it takes to make each of these things happen.
Drama:
The Drama consists of a 5 day curriculum, this time on the subject of Esther. We chronicle her assent from poor peasant to rich girl to queen, and the events between then and when Haman is put to death. Now, it was a six person cast, all of which have lives, families, and schedules. Getting them to at least get their lines on note cards is no easy feat, much less get them all together to practice. And then there is the designing of the set, the costumes, and the props, all of which I over see. Now, I have an awesome co-director who is always picking up the slack when things get a little crazy....and by picking up the slack, I mean being in charge of the set and getting most of the costumes...She is amazing :)
Once up at camp, hopefully all the prep work has been done correctly, leaving us only to run through it at the un-Godly hour of 7:30 each morning. This is only after puppet practice, which convenes at promptly 7 each morning.
Science Center:
The Science Center is where the kids get to make different kinds of things with their own two hands. This year, we made Play Dough, Silly Puddy, Pop Rockets, Soap and Ice Cream. Now, preparation for this consists mostly of buying all necessary material we just might be short of. The real work is up at camp.
Once set up, we help the children create their experiments. By help create, I mean we get to measure, over see, and in general, keep the kids all on task. Not to mention put up with the shenanigans of the counselors...which, by the way, is a no easy feat...soooo much worse then the kids.
So that's what I do. This is on top of all the singing the little girls in my cabin ask me to do. I literally walk out of there with out a voice.
Now that I have gone into some detail as to my duties at camp, allow me to expound on the camp itself.
This camp is probably the most emotional thing anybody can go through, minus the birth and death of a child. Every possible horrific thing you can think of, from suicide, to incest, to rape, to drugs, to sex, any bad thing, these kids most likely have seen or been party too. Things that no one should ever have to experience, much less a child. And its daily practice for them.
Because most of these kids were actually taken into the system after the age of five, all of them are considered unadoptable. Their chances decrease by half when they hit 5, and then by half again every year until they are at a big whopping Zero. Everyone wants babies, no body want a child or an adolescent with all that emotional baggage.
The thing is, these kids could be any one. From your little brother, to your niece, to the kid down the street, even you...they look like anybody else. Adorable, sweet, handsome, feisty, smart....and so hurt. When they sleep at night, its hard not to feel honored that they trust you enough to sleep peacefully.
It hurts to think about, I know. But its all the truth.
Now that I've succeeded in making myself cry....
Ok, so that's what I've been up to and why I haven't been online....but I'm back now, ready to write.
I know its been awhile since my last blog, a month and half (much shorter then my year stint last time) but here I am, once again, pouring out my heart and mind to a world that may never read my words. Which is fine with me, by the way. It means no one can be critical of what I have to say and the way I frame my words.
So, that being said, I thought I'd give you all a basic idea of whats gone on in my life for the last month and a half that has kept me from my doing my duty as a blogger.
On May 20th, I turned 21. Its my first time being 21, so please, be gentle with your thinking. Contrary to the popular practice, I did not go to the 21 and up club/bar and get myself un-upstandingly drunk. No, my 21st birthday consisted of a great deal of wine.
See, well over a year and a half ago, I mentioned to my mom, who is amazing, by the way, that I would truly enjoy a wine tasting party, rather then just an average party where everyone makes Margaritas and Bloody Marys all night long. It was never mentioned again.
Well my mom, with her excellent memory, put together a wine-tasting party, in which we had a gourmet meal consisting of seven courses, and a different wine with each course. Was I tipsy at the end of the night? I think so. David even more so, considering he drank all the wine I didn't like.
This event was followed closely by the retreat of my lovely parents to visit my Aunt in North Carolina. I spent a week with my brother and grandmother, and went through an emotional roller coaster whilst avoiding another semi-nervous breakdown....this time, not over corn chowder.
Now, the main event that has taken place is the preparation for a little-known camp called Royal Family Kids Camp. For those of you who don't know, RFKC is a camp for abused and neglected children ages 6-11 who are in the foster care system. For one week out of the year, we take a group of these kids up to the mountains and let them just be kids again. They get to go hiking, work on wood-craft, go swimming, do science experiments, all the while learning of God's love for them.
Well, this year we were maxed out with 70 kids. Yep, you heard me, 70 kids. It was a 1:1 ratio adults to children. Which made all the staff exceedingly happy, considering last year we were worked to the bone before the week was over.
And what do I do at camp, you might ask? I am on staff. I am in charge of the science center as well as the drama....which is a lot of fun, but also extremely stressful.
Here let me go into some detail about the preparation it takes to make each of these things happen.
Drama:
The Drama consists of a 5 day curriculum, this time on the subject of Esther. We chronicle her assent from poor peasant to rich girl to queen, and the events between then and when Haman is put to death. Now, it was a six person cast, all of which have lives, families, and schedules. Getting them to at least get their lines on note cards is no easy feat, much less get them all together to practice. And then there is the designing of the set, the costumes, and the props, all of which I over see. Now, I have an awesome co-director who is always picking up the slack when things get a little crazy....and by picking up the slack, I mean being in charge of the set and getting most of the costumes...She is amazing :)
Once up at camp, hopefully all the prep work has been done correctly, leaving us only to run through it at the un-Godly hour of 7:30 each morning. This is only after puppet practice, which convenes at promptly 7 each morning.
Science Center:
The Science Center is where the kids get to make different kinds of things with their own two hands. This year, we made Play Dough, Silly Puddy, Pop Rockets, Soap and Ice Cream. Now, preparation for this consists mostly of buying all necessary material we just might be short of. The real work is up at camp.
Once set up, we help the children create their experiments. By help create, I mean we get to measure, over see, and in general, keep the kids all on task. Not to mention put up with the shenanigans of the counselors...which, by the way, is a no easy feat...soooo much worse then the kids.
So that's what I do. This is on top of all the singing the little girls in my cabin ask me to do. I literally walk out of there with out a voice.
Now that I have gone into some detail as to my duties at camp, allow me to expound on the camp itself.
This camp is probably the most emotional thing anybody can go through, minus the birth and death of a child. Every possible horrific thing you can think of, from suicide, to incest, to rape, to drugs, to sex, any bad thing, these kids most likely have seen or been party too. Things that no one should ever have to experience, much less a child. And its daily practice for them.
Because most of these kids were actually taken into the system after the age of five, all of them are considered unadoptable. Their chances decrease by half when they hit 5, and then by half again every year until they are at a big whopping Zero. Everyone wants babies, no body want a child or an adolescent with all that emotional baggage.
The thing is, these kids could be any one. From your little brother, to your niece, to the kid down the street, even you...they look like anybody else. Adorable, sweet, handsome, feisty, smart....and so hurt. When they sleep at night, its hard not to feel honored that they trust you enough to sleep peacefully.
It hurts to think about, I know. But its all the truth.
Now that I've succeeded in making myself cry....
Ok, so that's what I've been up to and why I haven't been online....but I'm back now, ready to write.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Separation of What?
Last night I found myself, yet again, launching into a familiar tirade while discussing politics in my parents bedroom. My father was thoroughly silenced, my mom nodded her head in agreement, my brother grunted from down the hall, and my cats just looked up at me blankly. I have said these things so many times, that I have now found it necessary to write them down in a constant stream of words. So, grab a history book, the constitution of the United States of American, and a pencil.
All to often I hear the phrase "Separation of Church and State" thrown about the media. It has become a liberal mantra for politicians calling to the masses of quote "non-Judeo-Christians." Often, they criticize there constituents on the basis of their religious views, citing this very same passage of the Constitution. Well, allow me to quote it here for those politicians who are uneducated:
Oh, wait, I can't. Because its not there!!!!!!
Only in 1801, do we find Jefferson coining the phrase in a letter to a religious group who felt that there freedom was being oppressed by the state legislature. This is was a short handed version of the First Amendment, which I willing quote here:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
That's all it is!!! It is put there to protect the people from the government, not the government from religion.
It is also never stated in any letter, any bill, any note or memo from any of the Founding Fathers, anything about a separation of State and Faith. In fact, faith was the foundation of there very existence. It was the institution of the Church that was cause for concern for them.
For the last three hundred years, religion had been a major issue in Europe, specifically England. With King Henry the 8th in the 1534 completely separating himself from the Catholic church, and then declaring himself Soverign Ruler of the Church of England, we have the massive kick-off the game of religious tennis. When Mary the 1st came into reign, she declared the religion to be Catholicism. And then burned everyone who refused to become a Catholic. Elizabeth the Great changed it back to Protistanism. All this took place in little more then a decade. Lets not also forget the massive trouble it took just for the Pilgrims on the Mayflower trying to get to Religious freedom, just be able to sail from Europe.
As much as people like to deny it, it is true that America has a European background. Therefore, it makes sense that the English-man who wrote the Constitution and the Bill of Rights (not being racist here, its only the truth) wouldn't want the same thing happening in America that had already taken place in England: A ruler of both the Church and the State.
This idea has absolutely nothing to do with Faith in a Supreme being. You can still have faith and rule a country!!!
So, ultimately, that's my point. In no way, shape, or form, does the words "Separation of Church and State" appear in the Constitution. It gets bandied about by the media like some kind of sword, and its getting tiring. It makes the rest of us people with faith look bad.
All to often I hear the phrase "Separation of Church and State" thrown about the media. It has become a liberal mantra for politicians calling to the masses of quote "non-Judeo-Christians." Often, they criticize there constituents on the basis of their religious views, citing this very same passage of the Constitution. Well, allow me to quote it here for those politicians who are uneducated:
Oh, wait, I can't. Because its not there!!!!!!
Only in 1801, do we find Jefferson coining the phrase in a letter to a religious group who felt that there freedom was being oppressed by the state legislature. This is was a short handed version of the First Amendment, which I willing quote here:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
That's all it is!!! It is put there to protect the people from the government, not the government from religion.
It is also never stated in any letter, any bill, any note or memo from any of the Founding Fathers, anything about a separation of State and Faith. In fact, faith was the foundation of there very existence. It was the institution of the Church that was cause for concern for them.
For the last three hundred years, religion had been a major issue in Europe, specifically England. With King Henry the 8th in the 1534 completely separating himself from the Catholic church, and then declaring himself Soverign Ruler of the Church of England, we have the massive kick-off the game of religious tennis. When Mary the 1st came into reign, she declared the religion to be Catholicism. And then burned everyone who refused to become a Catholic. Elizabeth the Great changed it back to Protistanism. All this took place in little more then a decade. Lets not also forget the massive trouble it took just for the Pilgrims on the Mayflower trying to get to Religious freedom, just be able to sail from Europe.
As much as people like to deny it, it is true that America has a European background. Therefore, it makes sense that the English-man who wrote the Constitution and the Bill of Rights (not being racist here, its only the truth) wouldn't want the same thing happening in America that had already taken place in England: A ruler of both the Church and the State.
This idea has absolutely nothing to do with Faith in a Supreme being. You can still have faith and rule a country!!!
So, ultimately, that's my point. In no way, shape, or form, does the words "Separation of Church and State" appear in the Constitution. It gets bandied about by the media like some kind of sword, and its getting tiring. It makes the rest of us people with faith look bad.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Mirrors
Why try to impress those that have set themselves up to matter?
Because in the end, your the only one left to stare at yourself in the mirror.
Why try to fit in to those groups of people who carry on like its the only way?
Because in the end, your the only one wearing the clothes on your back.
Why try to be the one who is demanded to do things for no reason?
Because in the end, your the only one who has to live with your deeds.
Why do is constant deemed as right by those who are perceived as right?
Can you look at yourself in the mirror?
So, why? Why try to fit in? Why try to be right all the time, and do what others think we should?
Because when it comes right down to it, its just you, and the person staring back at you in the mirror.
That's the person you should be trying to impress.
That's the person you will be forced to share your world with.
In the end, does it really matter what you did, who you impressed, or what groups you fit in?
If you can't live with yourself, does it really matter?
Because in the end, your the only one left to stare at yourself in the mirror.
Why try to fit in to those groups of people who carry on like its the only way?
Because in the end, your the only one wearing the clothes on your back.
Why try to be the one who is demanded to do things for no reason?
Because in the end, your the only one who has to live with your deeds.
Why do is constant deemed as right by those who are perceived as right?
Can you look at yourself in the mirror?
So, why? Why try to fit in? Why try to be right all the time, and do what others think we should?
Because when it comes right down to it, its just you, and the person staring back at you in the mirror.
That's the person you should be trying to impress.
That's the person you will be forced to share your world with.
In the end, does it really matter what you did, who you impressed, or what groups you fit in?
If you can't live with yourself, does it really matter?
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Spring Break
Lets review the Spring Break stereotype for college students:
Weather warm after a long cold winter. The sound of waves off in the distance as you lounge in a beach chair soaking up the high spring sun. The smell of salt and sand, a cold beverage in your hands. Bikini clad girls and board short clothed boys enjoying this much needed break from school.
The nights consists of dancing, fun on the beach, and so much more that keeps you up until the wee hours of the morning, doing nothing more then having fun and being young and crazy insane.
Sounds pretty good, right?
Lets review what my Spring Break consisted of:
I was chained to my desk.
For the one week allotted to my school for this college tradition known as Spring Break, I covered for my older sister at the family office. No beach. No dancing. No staying up late. No crazy insaneness. Just solid work, from 9 am to 5 pm, every day save Friday.
Why is this a problem? I mean, I made bank with the week that I spent covering for my sister...why am I complaining?
Well, considering my schedule for the past 3 months, you would be complaining too. Six am mornings, first of all, are not my cup of tea, and thats what I've had to contend with. In fact, anything before 8 is an ungodly hour to be awake. But, the one week I get the chance to sleep in and forget about school, what am I doing? Getting up at 7 am.
As much as I would have loved to go to the beach the Friday I had off, guess what I was doing? Running errands and getting my homework done. Saturday I spent in the kitchen, lovingly preparing chocolate for my dear friends at church. Sunday was Easter. And Monday found me once again in school.
Its not that I mind working, at all. I am well paid, and the work is interesting and easy. And its not that I mind covering for my sister...she needed the time much more then I did. And its not as if I did much of anything at the office while I was covering for her. My one problem lies in the fact that I have until May before I am done, and almost no time for myself before that....I will fry if I'm not careful....
But enough complaining.
Though it wasn't as restful as I would have imagined, at least I didn't have to go to school and I did get paid for my time.
Now all that must be done is beach day this Saturday. And I have a promise from a certain blue-eyed, blond-haired, tall boy to take me.
Weather warm after a long cold winter. The sound of waves off in the distance as you lounge in a beach chair soaking up the high spring sun. The smell of salt and sand, a cold beverage in your hands. Bikini clad girls and board short clothed boys enjoying this much needed break from school.
The nights consists of dancing, fun on the beach, and so much more that keeps you up until the wee hours of the morning, doing nothing more then having fun and being young and crazy insane.
Sounds pretty good, right?
Lets review what my Spring Break consisted of:
I was chained to my desk.
For the one week allotted to my school for this college tradition known as Spring Break, I covered for my older sister at the family office. No beach. No dancing. No staying up late. No crazy insaneness. Just solid work, from 9 am to 5 pm, every day save Friday.
Why is this a problem? I mean, I made bank with the week that I spent covering for my sister...why am I complaining?
Well, considering my schedule for the past 3 months, you would be complaining too. Six am mornings, first of all, are not my cup of tea, and thats what I've had to contend with. In fact, anything before 8 is an ungodly hour to be awake. But, the one week I get the chance to sleep in and forget about school, what am I doing? Getting up at 7 am.
As much as I would have loved to go to the beach the Friday I had off, guess what I was doing? Running errands and getting my homework done. Saturday I spent in the kitchen, lovingly preparing chocolate for my dear friends at church. Sunday was Easter. And Monday found me once again in school.
Its not that I mind working, at all. I am well paid, and the work is interesting and easy. And its not that I mind covering for my sister...she needed the time much more then I did. And its not as if I did much of anything at the office while I was covering for her. My one problem lies in the fact that I have until May before I am done, and almost no time for myself before that....I will fry if I'm not careful....
But enough complaining.
Though it wasn't as restful as I would have imagined, at least I didn't have to go to school and I did get paid for my time.
Now all that must be done is beach day this Saturday. And I have a promise from a certain blue-eyed, blond-haired, tall boy to take me.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Incentive
Today I did something that everyone has to do at least once in there lifetime. I just never dreamed it would come this soon in my life, and so soon after the events of a different day. I was an actor today in an event which is often spoken off in hushed tones, and greatly regarded as a nuisance to all who are required to take part.
Today, I went to traffic court.
Let us recall the event which landed me here in the first place:
"We can make Sherlock Holmes in time, there's no one at the theater," my boyfriend said as he hung up his cell phone.
"Ok, we're taking my car," I replied, knowing that we had very little time to go a stop-light populated route. As it was New Years Day, I was somewhat skeptical of the whole 'there's no one in line' business. And I hated to be late.
But then I got this brilliant idea to go the back way, and not just go the back way, to speed as I did so.
"Slow down, Danielle," he said as I pushed my little '88 Honda over 80 on a 45 road.
Why, I thought to myself as I rolled my eyes at him, there's never any cops around here.
This was right about the time I noticed a white car parked on the side of the road in a very unobvious spot.
"That's a cop," David said.
"No its not," I replied, but pushed on the breaks a little just to be sure.
And that's when I heard the sirens.
Needless to say, we didn't see Sherlock Holmes that day.
So, here I am, 3 months later, sitting in traffic court with a speeding ticket and my stomach in knots. Why anybody would want to go through this, I'll never know.
Six am found me waking up, as my sister had mentioned before that the earlier you got there, the sooner you'd be seen by the judge. I was walking out of my house at 7 am, freshly showered, make-uped, all be it groggy, but somewhat ready for what was in front of me.
The court system is a classic example of hurry up and wait. It seems most government institutions implement this way of thinking into everyday situations.
7:20 found me standing in line, waiting to see the clerk to tell her what exactly I wanted to do, which, in this case, is to lower my fine and get an extension (after all, I am a struggling college student, and who has $250 on hand?) She didn't actually start going down the line until 7:30, which means she finally took my paper about 7:45 and directed me down to Department #1 aka Traffic Court.
So here's the situation: Its 7:45, the doors don't open until 8:35, and the judge doesn't actually come out until 9. Whats a girl to do for those 50 minutes that she has to wait in the halls?
Being that I am a good student, I took up my American Political Science book and passed the time reading (Articles of Confederation vs The Constitution, by the way). But the constant press and drown of people called me out of my secluded world of politics to people watch.
The two people sitting on my right were of Latino decent, and only spoke to each other in their native language. This I considered extremely rude and chose to inch my way a little further down the bench. The recently vacated space on my right was promptly filled by a young man whose cologne had me sniffing the air and wondering what it was that smelled so good (I find cologne irresistible).
All to soon that spot on my left was filled by an older lady wearing way to much make up and smelling of cigarettes. Her hair looked as though it had never been washed, and she carried a book that looked as though it had never been read. I found myself holding my breath until it came time for the doors to open. She seemed nice enough, though.
The doors opened at 8:35, the sheriff made us all sit down and explained the rules of the game. We sat in comparative silence until the judge entered and the call to "ALL RISE" was sounded. I was prepared to wait for a good 2 hours, but was surprised to hear my name called 2nd.
The judge's name was Blain. He asked me very curtiously how I was this morning, ma'am, to which I replied good. He must have seen the fear in my eyes. I pleaded guilty, he lowered my fine and gave me an extra 90 days to take care of it. As I made my move to leave, he stopped me and said "Good luck." I guess I found favor in Judge Blain's eyes, which is what I had been asking for all along.
I found myself in a smaller room, once again, waiting for someone to give my my paper work so I could leave and go save my money. That took me 5 minutes, and the lady was extremely nice.
9:07 found me back on my way to the car, breathing deeply as I told myself it was over. For having got up so early, and waited so long, it sure was anti-climatic.
So, now I have a $215 bill, a whole truck load of experience, and a whole incentive to drive slower. Why anyone would do anything to find themselves in this predicament is beyond me. So, needless to say, I won't be speeding for a while.
Today, I went to traffic court.
Let us recall the event which landed me here in the first place:
"We can make Sherlock Holmes in time, there's no one at the theater," my boyfriend said as he hung up his cell phone.
"Ok, we're taking my car," I replied, knowing that we had very little time to go a stop-light populated route. As it was New Years Day, I was somewhat skeptical of the whole 'there's no one in line' business. And I hated to be late.
But then I got this brilliant idea to go the back way, and not just go the back way, to speed as I did so.
"Slow down, Danielle," he said as I pushed my little '88 Honda over 80 on a 45 road.
Why, I thought to myself as I rolled my eyes at him, there's never any cops around here.
This was right about the time I noticed a white car parked on the side of the road in a very unobvious spot.
"That's a cop," David said.
"No its not," I replied, but pushed on the breaks a little just to be sure.
And that's when I heard the sirens.
Needless to say, we didn't see Sherlock Holmes that day.
So, here I am, 3 months later, sitting in traffic court with a speeding ticket and my stomach in knots. Why anybody would want to go through this, I'll never know.
Six am found me waking up, as my sister had mentioned before that the earlier you got there, the sooner you'd be seen by the judge. I was walking out of my house at 7 am, freshly showered, make-uped, all be it groggy, but somewhat ready for what was in front of me.
The court system is a classic example of hurry up and wait. It seems most government institutions implement this way of thinking into everyday situations.
7:20 found me standing in line, waiting to see the clerk to tell her what exactly I wanted to do, which, in this case, is to lower my fine and get an extension (after all, I am a struggling college student, and who has $250 on hand?) She didn't actually start going down the line until 7:30, which means she finally took my paper about 7:45 and directed me down to Department #1 aka Traffic Court.
So here's the situation: Its 7:45, the doors don't open until 8:35, and the judge doesn't actually come out until 9. Whats a girl to do for those 50 minutes that she has to wait in the halls?
Being that I am a good student, I took up my American Political Science book and passed the time reading (Articles of Confederation vs The Constitution, by the way). But the constant press and drown of people called me out of my secluded world of politics to people watch.
The two people sitting on my right were of Latino decent, and only spoke to each other in their native language. This I considered extremely rude and chose to inch my way a little further down the bench. The recently vacated space on my right was promptly filled by a young man whose cologne had me sniffing the air and wondering what it was that smelled so good (I find cologne irresistible).
All to soon that spot on my left was filled by an older lady wearing way to much make up and smelling of cigarettes. Her hair looked as though it had never been washed, and she carried a book that looked as though it had never been read. I found myself holding my breath until it came time for the doors to open. She seemed nice enough, though.
The doors opened at 8:35, the sheriff made us all sit down and explained the rules of the game. We sat in comparative silence until the judge entered and the call to "ALL RISE" was sounded. I was prepared to wait for a good 2 hours, but was surprised to hear my name called 2nd.
The judge's name was Blain. He asked me very curtiously how I was this morning, ma'am, to which I replied good. He must have seen the fear in my eyes. I pleaded guilty, he lowered my fine and gave me an extra 90 days to take care of it. As I made my move to leave, he stopped me and said "Good luck." I guess I found favor in Judge Blain's eyes, which is what I had been asking for all along.
I found myself in a smaller room, once again, waiting for someone to give my my paper work so I could leave and go save my money. That took me 5 minutes, and the lady was extremely nice.
9:07 found me back on my way to the car, breathing deeply as I told myself it was over. For having got up so early, and waited so long, it sure was anti-climatic.
So, now I have a $215 bill, a whole truck load of experience, and a whole incentive to drive slower. Why anyone would do anything to find themselves in this predicament is beyond me. So, needless to say, I won't be speeding for a while.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
My Mothers Rumor
The second in my succession of dreams, and my favorite
I live alone in a war torn land. My home is a small house set high up in the mountains, far from every form of contact, be it human or otherwise. My mother and I have always lived here, away from the prying eyes and minds of society. The war has not touched us yet.
I over hear a rumor my mother has spoken:
Human tears make human blood irresistible.
And I wonder what this means.
I am a young women, not yet 21. My home contains no mirrors, but once, not so long ago, I managed to catch a glimpse of my reflection in a bucket of water. I have skin as translucent as dough, and hair as dark as midnight. It falls in long curls around my face, framing my unnaturally blue eyes. Some would say that I am pretty. Perfect teeth sit in my mouth, but I have no need of them. Yet.
Time passes, and the sun never shines. It has always been this way, for as long as I can recall. I am alone now. Mother laid herself down one day, and gave up her spirit, leaving me the house and all the woods to roam in. I have never met any other in the whole of my life.
And the rumor stays with me:
Human tears make human blood irresistible.
The autonomy I once had living in the high forest is all at once over. When the war touches my little house, I am still in my white night gown, my feet bare. It is cold outside, but I never feel it. And out of my safe woods come the figures of men, dark beacons of doom in their blue uniforms. With them are figures clothed in white, not unlike myself.
I am to be their prisoner.
The humans, dressed in their dark uniforms, are herding the ones like me to a place where we can do no harm. At least not the them. The problem with this plan, though seemingly perfect to these humans, is that I have never done any harm. I have lived my life in peace, away from the prying eye of society, as my mother saw fit.
They kidnapped me, forced me to come with them, these human guards ruthlessly making us walk for hours on end in nothing but our white dresses and nightclothes. But for the first time, I am with others of my kind. Others like me. Never free as I had once been, but with my same fate for all of eternity.
And still I remember the rumor.
Human tears make human blood irresistible.
I ask someone who walks close to me, an old one. He laughs at me and says, "Are you not cheeky," as the others laugh around him.
"I mean it," I reply, as we sit by the fire. "What does it mean."
"Have you never tasted human blood before, then?" He asks, smiling.
"No, never. Is it a necessity?" I reply.
"Is it a...surely you are merely mocking me, young one." He responds, his teeth gleaming in the firelight.
"No, I'm not...."
"Human blood is essential to your frame, for once tasted, without it, you would die. It is a wonder that I couldn't tell, but none of us have had any for so long, its not so difficult to be mistaken. We are all so pale." And I finally understood why the humans appeared so dark next to me. I was white for a reason.
"But what does it mean? The human tears." I ask again.
"It means, young one, that when the smell of a human tear reaches us, we can no longer resist there blood. It calls us to them, more then the heartbeat of living being themselves. I wouldn't like to be around when you are tested to resist, for it shall be gruesome." And with that, he chuckles and turns away.
And it is in the night, next to the fire, that I realize what I am. I am not human, but I've always known this. I realize why there is a war in this torn country, why my mother chose to hide me away, why the humans are taking us far away from this land.
Because I am not welcome, and I am dangerous. I am a vampire. And someday, I would kill an innocent.
It is this realization which causes me, on a cold morning without a sun, to take that leap of faith. Literally. We are walking threw the high forest, we are surrounded by trees. But we walk on the edge of a cliff. So, I run, and jump.
And I don't die.
For as I fall, I see others like me. They are dressed in the white that marks our kind, and they don't fall. They fly. They teach me how. And I have never felt so free. One of them meets my eyes as I learn from them, never speaking a word. His eyes tell me of freedom beyond the high forest, of life with out the humans. As I leave them to touch the ground, for I can not stay a loft forever, I wonder if that was the life my mother intended for me.
I find a path and I walk along it. But then, a scent, a smell, draws me further and further, faster, and faster down the path. I see a cottage, alone in the dark surroundings, a small tendril of smoke emitting from the chimney. As I approach, I notice the white fence that surrounds it, but it is only until I am upon the house that I hear the ear shattering scream. And then I see her.
I turn to flee, running from this crying human child, but she follows me where ever I run, always with me. It is not my desire to kill her, for she is young and innocent, but she still follows, screaming and crying, tears falling from her young eyes. And I know a thirst unlike any other I've ever felt. So I run.
But then, she is in front of me, calling to me. "Please, I have no mother," she begs, crying still. I look at her innocent face, and I see my mother's. I see my own as a child, when it was reflected from the bucket of water. I see loneliness, fear, innocents. And I know then that I can never kill this child.
"Then I suppose I'll have to be mother to both of us," I say finally. I reach down, pick her up, and carry her to the road. We walk this way down the path, her irresistible tears falling on my shoulder, until we meet the humans and my companions.
They are amazed that I did not kill the child, and stare in wonder as I walk into the crowd carrying her small form.
She is my child now, and she travels with me. At 21, I learn that I am a vampire, and I become a mother.
And it is with this instance, that the humans realize that it is possible for our two races to live in peace. In time, the sun shines again. My country is no longer war-torn.
And my mothers rumor fades from my mind.
I live alone in a war torn land. My home is a small house set high up in the mountains, far from every form of contact, be it human or otherwise. My mother and I have always lived here, away from the prying eyes and minds of society. The war has not touched us yet.
I over hear a rumor my mother has spoken:
Human tears make human blood irresistible.
And I wonder what this means.
I am a young women, not yet 21. My home contains no mirrors, but once, not so long ago, I managed to catch a glimpse of my reflection in a bucket of water. I have skin as translucent as dough, and hair as dark as midnight. It falls in long curls around my face, framing my unnaturally blue eyes. Some would say that I am pretty. Perfect teeth sit in my mouth, but I have no need of them. Yet.
Time passes, and the sun never shines. It has always been this way, for as long as I can recall. I am alone now. Mother laid herself down one day, and gave up her spirit, leaving me the house and all the woods to roam in. I have never met any other in the whole of my life.
And the rumor stays with me:
Human tears make human blood irresistible.
The autonomy I once had living in the high forest is all at once over. When the war touches my little house, I am still in my white night gown, my feet bare. It is cold outside, but I never feel it. And out of my safe woods come the figures of men, dark beacons of doom in their blue uniforms. With them are figures clothed in white, not unlike myself.
I am to be their prisoner.
The humans, dressed in their dark uniforms, are herding the ones like me to a place where we can do no harm. At least not the them. The problem with this plan, though seemingly perfect to these humans, is that I have never done any harm. I have lived my life in peace, away from the prying eye of society, as my mother saw fit.
They kidnapped me, forced me to come with them, these human guards ruthlessly making us walk for hours on end in nothing but our white dresses and nightclothes. But for the first time, I am with others of my kind. Others like me. Never free as I had once been, but with my same fate for all of eternity.
And still I remember the rumor.
Human tears make human blood irresistible.
I ask someone who walks close to me, an old one. He laughs at me and says, "Are you not cheeky," as the others laugh around him.
"I mean it," I reply, as we sit by the fire. "What does it mean."
"Have you never tasted human blood before, then?" He asks, smiling.
"No, never. Is it a necessity?" I reply.
"Is it a...surely you are merely mocking me, young one." He responds, his teeth gleaming in the firelight.
"No, I'm not...."
"Human blood is essential to your frame, for once tasted, without it, you would die. It is a wonder that I couldn't tell, but none of us have had any for so long, its not so difficult to be mistaken. We are all so pale." And I finally understood why the humans appeared so dark next to me. I was white for a reason.
"But what does it mean? The human tears." I ask again.
"It means, young one, that when the smell of a human tear reaches us, we can no longer resist there blood. It calls us to them, more then the heartbeat of living being themselves. I wouldn't like to be around when you are tested to resist, for it shall be gruesome." And with that, he chuckles and turns away.
And it is in the night, next to the fire, that I realize what I am. I am not human, but I've always known this. I realize why there is a war in this torn country, why my mother chose to hide me away, why the humans are taking us far away from this land.
Because I am not welcome, and I am dangerous. I am a vampire. And someday, I would kill an innocent.
It is this realization which causes me, on a cold morning without a sun, to take that leap of faith. Literally. We are walking threw the high forest, we are surrounded by trees. But we walk on the edge of a cliff. So, I run, and jump.
And I don't die.
For as I fall, I see others like me. They are dressed in the white that marks our kind, and they don't fall. They fly. They teach me how. And I have never felt so free. One of them meets my eyes as I learn from them, never speaking a word. His eyes tell me of freedom beyond the high forest, of life with out the humans. As I leave them to touch the ground, for I can not stay a loft forever, I wonder if that was the life my mother intended for me.
I find a path and I walk along it. But then, a scent, a smell, draws me further and further, faster, and faster down the path. I see a cottage, alone in the dark surroundings, a small tendril of smoke emitting from the chimney. As I approach, I notice the white fence that surrounds it, but it is only until I am upon the house that I hear the ear shattering scream. And then I see her.
I turn to flee, running from this crying human child, but she follows me where ever I run, always with me. It is not my desire to kill her, for she is young and innocent, but she still follows, screaming and crying, tears falling from her young eyes. And I know a thirst unlike any other I've ever felt. So I run.
But then, she is in front of me, calling to me. "Please, I have no mother," she begs, crying still. I look at her innocent face, and I see my mother's. I see my own as a child, when it was reflected from the bucket of water. I see loneliness, fear, innocents. And I know then that I can never kill this child.
"Then I suppose I'll have to be mother to both of us," I say finally. I reach down, pick her up, and carry her to the road. We walk this way down the path, her irresistible tears falling on my shoulder, until we meet the humans and my companions.
They are amazed that I did not kill the child, and stare in wonder as I walk into the crowd carrying her small form.
She is my child now, and she travels with me. At 21, I learn that I am a vampire, and I become a mother.
And it is with this instance, that the humans realize that it is possible for our two races to live in peace. In time, the sun shines again. My country is no longer war-torn.
And my mothers rumor fades from my mind.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The dreams
I don't know if I've mentioned before, but I am a dreamer. My dreams are extremely vivid, not just in color, but in the thoughts and feelings I have as I walk through these dreams. The things I experience in these dreams are sometimes so real, so natural to me at the time, that I forget when I wake up that I was dreaming. I sometimes wonder if what I see is not a product of my over-active imagination, and more things that actually happen. Not to me, of course, but to others. But that's beside the point.
I recently had a succession of dreams that I felt worthy of writing down. I don't know if they actually mean something, but what I do know, is that someday, I just might actually have a story that revolves around one or all of them.
I'm not sure if I'll fit it all into one blog, or I'll take one for each, so be prepared. And they are crazy. Enjoy.
The First:
Its hot. So hot I can taste the air as it sears my lungs, the taste on my tongue a mixture of sand and hot spice. I'm in shorts and a tank-top, standing in a long room looking out a bay window. The window overlooks a vast desert, filled with mountains of sand, and the heat is leaking into every corner of that room.
I'm getting ready to leave on an expedition into that very vast desert that I am overlooking. My bags are packed and I'm ready to get into the van. We just have one more stop.
As we drive through the desert, I am plagued with thoughts of my home in America, the coolness of my room, but for some reason, I have no right to go back there.
What is I have done?
Why is the man I love not with me?
Why won't my mother look me in the face, but smiles every time she speaks to me?
Why am I happy here, for I know that I am, and I would never leave it behind.
Just as the great pyramids come into view, my thoughts turn to my good friend an confidant, Lizzy. As we pull over in front of the tan Sphinx, I think to myself "I have to remember to tell Lizzy about this. She will flip!"
We leave the cool comfort of the vans to trek through the burning sands towards the museum which lies directly between the Sphinx feet. Before we enter, I hear a loud boom, as my mother comes racing across the sands, desperately yelling at me to turn around.
Its a race to the car for our very survival. As I jump in and buckle up, I ask, "what happened." She doesn't answer.
"Mom."
"We can't stay here anymore."
And I think to myself, "no. We can't go home yet."
As the sun sets over the desert, our tracks are slowly eaten away by the encroaching desert.
And it was still hot.
I recently had a succession of dreams that I felt worthy of writing down. I don't know if they actually mean something, but what I do know, is that someday, I just might actually have a story that revolves around one or all of them.
I'm not sure if I'll fit it all into one blog, or I'll take one for each, so be prepared. And they are crazy. Enjoy.
The First:
Its hot. So hot I can taste the air as it sears my lungs, the taste on my tongue a mixture of sand and hot spice. I'm in shorts and a tank-top, standing in a long room looking out a bay window. The window overlooks a vast desert, filled with mountains of sand, and the heat is leaking into every corner of that room.
I'm getting ready to leave on an expedition into that very vast desert that I am overlooking. My bags are packed and I'm ready to get into the van. We just have one more stop.
As we drive through the desert, I am plagued with thoughts of my home in America, the coolness of my room, but for some reason, I have no right to go back there.
What is I have done?
Why is the man I love not with me?
Why won't my mother look me in the face, but smiles every time she speaks to me?
Why am I happy here, for I know that I am, and I would never leave it behind.
Just as the great pyramids come into view, my thoughts turn to my good friend an confidant, Lizzy. As we pull over in front of the tan Sphinx, I think to myself "I have to remember to tell Lizzy about this. She will flip!"
We leave the cool comfort of the vans to trek through the burning sands towards the museum which lies directly between the Sphinx feet. Before we enter, I hear a loud boom, as my mother comes racing across the sands, desperately yelling at me to turn around.
Its a race to the car for our very survival. As I jump in and buckle up, I ask, "what happened." She doesn't answer.
"Mom."
"We can't stay here anymore."
And I think to myself, "no. We can't go home yet."
As the sun sets over the desert, our tracks are slowly eaten away by the encroaching desert.
And it was still hot.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Avatar
This afternoon, my wonderful boyfriend took me out to see a movie. Not just any movie, but the amazing Avatar. And not just the amazing Avatar. We saw it in 3-D.
Oh. My. Goodness!!!!
It was incredible. The cinematography, the special, effects, the story line, all of it was incredible. But this you already know.
The story is centralized around a planet called Pandora, in which the most incredible landscapes exist. There is an indigenous tribe known as the Na'Vi that live and protect this world. Pandora is a wild planet, made up of incomparable beauty. The forests have enormous trees, the mountains float, and the oceans are vast.
But I'm sure you already know this.
So, whats the point of this post?
To put a thought out there. Do you ever wish stuff like that was real? That we could somehow be transported to a different world where everything is beauty and simplicity? Where the cleaness of the air keeps us wishing for more, and the quietness allows us to think with out interruption?
Wouldn't it be awesome to have a place where you could go where there is no sound other then nature surrounding you? A place where the beauty of nature reminds you why life is so worth living?
I know there are people out there who live in rural areas where this possible, but I'm a city girl, and we don't get much quiet around here. There is always a car, or a plane, or someone yelling, or just the sounds of other people living.
To be totally isolated, in God's perfect world, where I can hear my own thoughts, and have time to ponder them, would be something almost completely foreign to me.
So, do I wish Pandora was real? Absolutely. Do I know for a fact it isn't? Of course. But that doesn't mean I can't try to find the beauty, the simplicity, and the quiet that God has already placed on His green earth.
Oh. My. Goodness!!!!
It was incredible. The cinematography, the special, effects, the story line, all of it was incredible. But this you already know.
The story is centralized around a planet called Pandora, in which the most incredible landscapes exist. There is an indigenous tribe known as the Na'Vi that live and protect this world. Pandora is a wild planet, made up of incomparable beauty. The forests have enormous trees, the mountains float, and the oceans are vast.
But I'm sure you already know this.
So, whats the point of this post?
To put a thought out there. Do you ever wish stuff like that was real? That we could somehow be transported to a different world where everything is beauty and simplicity? Where the cleaness of the air keeps us wishing for more, and the quietness allows us to think with out interruption?
Wouldn't it be awesome to have a place where you could go where there is no sound other then nature surrounding you? A place where the beauty of nature reminds you why life is so worth living?
I know there are people out there who live in rural areas where this possible, but I'm a city girl, and we don't get much quiet around here. There is always a car, or a plane, or someone yelling, or just the sounds of other people living.
To be totally isolated, in God's perfect world, where I can hear my own thoughts, and have time to ponder them, would be something almost completely foreign to me.
So, do I wish Pandora was real? Absolutely. Do I know for a fact it isn't? Of course. But that doesn't mean I can't try to find the beauty, the simplicity, and the quiet that God has already placed on His green earth.
Friday, January 29, 2010
I like cheese
I like cheese. There is just no two ways around it. When the milk gods descended to earth and began to produce the many delicious things we now enjoy, their greatest creation was the hard substance that comes in so many flavors.
Cheese is so versatile, too. It tastes good on anything. A ham sandwich is good, but a ham and cheese sandwich is heavenly. And who likes Mexican food with out a little of that yellow goodness melted across the top of the beans. A chili dog is good, but a chili cheese dog is better. Cheese cake. Need I say more? Eggs with cheese sprinkled across the top just has so much more added flavor. And a cheeseburger is delicious. Its good on a cracker, but then its good by itself.
And there so many different kinds of cheese. From the sharper, more acidic cheeses, like aged cheddar, to the softer, sweeter cheeses, like fontina. Swiss is good on a sandwich, but mozzarella is good on a pizza (bet you never tried that before). Gouda is delicious on crackers, while Monterrey jack is bursting with flavor melted over my mom's imitation crab stuffed mushrooms (yum). Ricotta has its place in lasagna, but then again, if you don't have ricotta, a good tub of cottage cheese will do.
But the milk gods have chosen to curse their most beloved follower. I do not know what I have done to deserve this punishment, but I have been seeking a way beg forgiveness for whatever horrible crime I have committed. For I have been cursed with the dreaded dairy allergy. (sob)
The party in my mouth that I have enjoyed so immensely has, as of late, been discontinued. One year ago, it was discovered that my body did not react as pleasantly to cheese as my mouth did. Let the sneezing begin.
So, I have been banished to the far reaches of dairy land by a lack of cheese. And it makes me sad. But I have discovered that goat cheese, while slightly different, can have its own merits. So, all is not at a loss.
But, I do remember my friends famous words, and I shall forever be grateful for its humor:
Me: I can't have dairy anymore
Friend: That's like saying no more happiness.
Other friends: What kind of blanket statement is that: No more happiness?
I love cheese, and I miss it dearly, but thank God for the fact that it may not last forever. And that goat cheese can be used as a replacement.
Cheese is so versatile, too. It tastes good on anything. A ham sandwich is good, but a ham and cheese sandwich is heavenly. And who likes Mexican food with out a little of that yellow goodness melted across the top of the beans. A chili dog is good, but a chili cheese dog is better. Cheese cake. Need I say more? Eggs with cheese sprinkled across the top just has so much more added flavor. And a cheeseburger is delicious. Its good on a cracker, but then its good by itself.
And there so many different kinds of cheese. From the sharper, more acidic cheeses, like aged cheddar, to the softer, sweeter cheeses, like fontina. Swiss is good on a sandwich, but mozzarella is good on a pizza (bet you never tried that before). Gouda is delicious on crackers, while Monterrey jack is bursting with flavor melted over my mom's imitation crab stuffed mushrooms (yum). Ricotta has its place in lasagna, but then again, if you don't have ricotta, a good tub of cottage cheese will do.
But the milk gods have chosen to curse their most beloved follower. I do not know what I have done to deserve this punishment, but I have been seeking a way beg forgiveness for whatever horrible crime I have committed. For I have been cursed with the dreaded dairy allergy. (sob)
The party in my mouth that I have enjoyed so immensely has, as of late, been discontinued. One year ago, it was discovered that my body did not react as pleasantly to cheese as my mouth did. Let the sneezing begin.
So, I have been banished to the far reaches of dairy land by a lack of cheese. And it makes me sad. But I have discovered that goat cheese, while slightly different, can have its own merits. So, all is not at a loss.
But, I do remember my friends famous words, and I shall forever be grateful for its humor:
Me: I can't have dairy anymore
Friend: That's like saying no more happiness.
Other friends: What kind of blanket statement is that: No more happiness?
I love cheese, and I miss it dearly, but thank God for the fact that it may not last forever. And that goat cheese can be used as a replacement.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Grandmothers are Mean
You know how most people have that perfect grandmother who bakes them cookies, sends them money on their birthday, listens when you can't talk to your mom, and is over-all generally a really nice, sweet, old lady who would never hurt a fly if she could help it? The one who spends all her time in her kitchen cooking for her family, and meddling in the affairs of her children and grandchildren? You know what I'm taking about?
I don't have one of those.
My grandmother, though I do love her, is uncontrollably mean, selfish, and vindictive. I know, you're thinking "how harsh can you get?" but the reality is that I now live with this women. And I don't lie, so I am certainly not lieing now.
So, what has she done to cause all this?
She's lazy. Seriously. All she does all day is sit around and watch tv, or play on her computer, while never uttering a single word outside of hi and goodbye to us. And yet she complains that none of us speak to her. I have tried, and it has never gotten very far because I get one word answers. She can do things all by her lonesome, I've seen her do it. But noooooo, she's a helpless old women who needs everything done for her.
She says the meanest things to people. One time, I hugged my mom in the kitchen, just because this is how I show affection, and she went off the deep end. She asked me if I was a lesbian because of all the hugs I give my mom. Hello? Boyfriend?
She sends all these emails to us, saying the nasty things. She's called me "that girl" before, as though I was some silly servant who needed proper training. I swear she see's me as such. I have never had an opinion in her eyes, and I probably never will. If at 20, I still am 'that girl', then I suppose I always will be.
She has spread more lies about my mom then I care to count and do not have the energy, time, or self control to recount. Suffice to say, she's causing more trouble amongst a family that was already dysfunctional to begin with.
Don't get me wrong people: I don't hate my grandmother. I think she's walking history, and for what she's been through, I think she deserves some respect. But when that respect that she demands become a tool to force us overlook just how cruel she can be, its unacceptable.
I don't know if any of you have really awesome grandparents, but count yourself lucky if you do. Because I don't. My grandmother is mean, and I doubt that will change anytime soon.
I apologize for the dark nature of this blog...I just needed a place to vent.
I don't have one of those.
My grandmother, though I do love her, is uncontrollably mean, selfish, and vindictive. I know, you're thinking "how harsh can you get?" but the reality is that I now live with this women. And I don't lie, so I am certainly not lieing now.
So, what has she done to cause all this?
She's lazy. Seriously. All she does all day is sit around and watch tv, or play on her computer, while never uttering a single word outside of hi and goodbye to us. And yet she complains that none of us speak to her. I have tried, and it has never gotten very far because I get one word answers. She can do things all by her lonesome, I've seen her do it. But noooooo, she's a helpless old women who needs everything done for her.
She says the meanest things to people. One time, I hugged my mom in the kitchen, just because this is how I show affection, and she went off the deep end. She asked me if I was a lesbian because of all the hugs I give my mom. Hello? Boyfriend?
She sends all these emails to us, saying the nasty things. She's called me "that girl" before, as though I was some silly servant who needed proper training. I swear she see's me as such. I have never had an opinion in her eyes, and I probably never will. If at 20, I still am 'that girl', then I suppose I always will be.
She has spread more lies about my mom then I care to count and do not have the energy, time, or self control to recount. Suffice to say, she's causing more trouble amongst a family that was already dysfunctional to begin with.
Don't get me wrong people: I don't hate my grandmother. I think she's walking history, and for what she's been through, I think she deserves some respect. But when that respect that she demands become a tool to force us overlook just how cruel she can be, its unacceptable.
I don't know if any of you have really awesome grandparents, but count yourself lucky if you do. Because I don't. My grandmother is mean, and I doubt that will change anytime soon.
I apologize for the dark nature of this blog...I just needed a place to vent.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Life happens
I know we've all heard the phrase "life happens." Ok, so its in more explicit language then that, but hey, who says I have to use it, right?
So, my life happened, and here I am, writing it down almost a year later. To start at the beginning is ridiculous, so lets just tell the highlights:
Moves: My big sister moved out in March, my Grandmother moved in to our small house in May, and my little brother moved in early this month.
Pause right there:
1) Grandma moving in has not been the best experience. She dislikes me more then most, which is not so difficult, is selfish, and to top that all off, moved into my childhood room and forced me upstairs. Do I love her? Yes. Do I sometimes with she had her own house? Absolutely.
2) DJ moved in after a long absence of 14 years. While I am thrilled, I am also extremely annoyed, as suddenly having a younger brother is slowly driving me out of my mind.
Play
Weddings: Carrol to Matt Callihan in May
Births: Shannon Elizabeth to Carrol and Matt in December
Pause:
You do the math and tell me how that adds up.
Play:
So, the other important thing is that I finally got a car. Happiness.
The most important things remain the same. I still play the violin. I still believe in God. I still have the same man in my life, and probably will till the day I cease to draw breath.
So...the main idea: I'm back.
So, my life happened, and here I am, writing it down almost a year later. To start at the beginning is ridiculous, so lets just tell the highlights:
Moves: My big sister moved out in March, my Grandmother moved in to our small house in May, and my little brother moved in early this month.
Pause right there:
1) Grandma moving in has not been the best experience. She dislikes me more then most, which is not so difficult, is selfish, and to top that all off, moved into my childhood room and forced me upstairs. Do I love her? Yes. Do I sometimes with she had her own house? Absolutely.
2) DJ moved in after a long absence of 14 years. While I am thrilled, I am also extremely annoyed, as suddenly having a younger brother is slowly driving me out of my mind.
Play
Weddings: Carrol to Matt Callihan in May
Births: Shannon Elizabeth to Carrol and Matt in December
Pause:
You do the math and tell me how that adds up.
Play:
So, the other important thing is that I finally got a car. Happiness.
The most important things remain the same. I still play the violin. I still believe in God. I still have the same man in my life, and probably will till the day I cease to draw breath.
So...the main idea: I'm back.
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