Friday, May 27, 2011

The one you can point back to and say, "He finally broke with reality, " or, "Wow, he really did know."

Gonna call it like I see it—even if it’s ridiculous.
From the night we went to the double feature movies (Priest and Bridesmaids), thirteen days ago, I knew Smokey would be the man I married.
Crazy, huh?
And granted, any number of things could happen and things end in a moment. I could be delusional. I could be simply needy and clingy and enmeshed. I could be acting out of hurt and fear. I could be pathetic and desperate. Or, I could be right. I suppose I could even be all those things and still be right.
I’m not saying this to get a rise out of people, or to celebrate something that hasn’t happened. I’m saying it because I’m thinking it. Feeling it. And have been for thirteen days.
Months ago, I preemptively called bull-shit on me being in a future relationship and being happy again—that I would be deceiving myself. Well, that may be true. Or maybe, life has shown me that it’s a little more magical than I believed. With HWMNBN, we did everything right. I didn’t choose to spend my life him for over a year, and it was a decision made out of love and logic (not the parenting/teaching handbook Love and Logic). And, I still stand by that decision. I loved him. I still love him. And I could have spent my life with him, always loving him, and being happy. We would’ve been, if he’d allowed it. However, with Smokey, there’s no logic. There’s no months of getting to know each other, no debating the pros and cons, no being convinced over months that we’re right for each other. There’s just this instant sensation and relief (despite the fear) of, ‘There you are. Finally.’ Delusion or magic or destiny? After the ‘smart’ way and its fallout, why not choose magic? Choose the impossible. In many ways, I’ve always lived my life that. Go for the impossible (get published –two more rejection letters this week).
My life has brought me to the point where I’m both insane and brave enough to bet on magic.

Thursday, May 26, 2011


Yesterday was rather torturous. All due to my issues. I couldn’t relax, utterly convinced he was going to leave, that he’d change his mind in the middle of the day and realize he doesn’t love me. (Wonder where those issues came from…) I was near tears all day and just sick to the stomach.
On the way home, I realized that I was sucking all the joy out of everything and going to end up shoving him away quicker than lightening. I had to get a grip. I’m sure I’ll have to have that conversation a millions time over. Gotta love baggage.
After work, Smokey called and said he was going to happy hour with a couple of friends and wanted me to come and then for us to go to dinner. It turned out to be one of the most perfect nights of my life.
Happy hour was fun, very.
Then, he took me to Beatrice and Woodsly. It was the most gorgeous restaurant I’ve ever been in. It was like an enchanted forest, amber light pouring through the trees. Unreal. I ate crawfish beignets and rabbit over carrot puree. Who am I? We touched constantly through the two hour plus meal, made friends with the people around us. At the end of the night, he took me to the wine cellar basement, which was gorgeous. No one was there, music playing softly. He proceeded to take me in his arms and dance with me, kiss me, and whisper his love, tears glistening as he spoke. The waiter that passed by us just smiled and kept going.
It was one of those perfect extended moments, one that will stay with me forever.
We lay in bed and talked and laughed and kissed until nearly three, when he made some ‘boyfriend’ reference. I paused and asked if he really meant to say that. He did, and at the risk of sound like at twelve-year old girl, we’re official.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

from the ashes

It’s gonna take some time to deal with the fear of losing again. I hope I can figure it out at some point, and it guess it’s okay to not be great, or even good, at it yet. I’ve spent the past two plus years grieving and dealing with loss. I guess it only makes sense that’s where my psyche would go now. In the midst of everything wonderful going on, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop (wonder what that meant originally…). However, on one hand, there’s this core/gut feeling that this is It that contradicts with the fear. I know it’s stupid to say after a week and a half, but there it is. I just don’t want my fear and my loss issues to get in the way of all the positive that’s happening and turn our ‘Honeymoon’ stage into stress and mini-therapy sessions.
At dinner last night, we were talking about going out to bars and such to see friends, and a crazy realization hit me. I thought, IF I ever started dating again, that I wouldn’t be able to go Out with whoever the man would be for fear of seeing HWMNBN. I wouldn’t want him to see me with someone else. Wouldn’t want him to think I don’t love him or taking back my promises to him. (I know, he left, not me. I know, I know.) While [hmmm… almost typed his name and I haven’t asked permission to use his name, and I’m not sure if I will. Please hold while I think of an appropriate moniker… Got it! One of his vices that I thought would be a deal breaker… and I mean this in a loving, pet name kind of way, not judgy… Smokey. {Smokey, if you ever read this, I’m smiling right now at my cute name for you—not thinking about lung cancer. Well, now I am, but I wasn’t at the time. }] Anyway, while Smokey and I were talking (I like that name, sounds kind sexy—even if I am more of a ‘bear’ than he is) I realized that I simply wanted to be out in public with him. I don’t care if HWMNBN sees (I do still love him, always will, but I love Smokey in his own right, not because I don’t have HWMNBN). I don’t care if people think I’m being stupid because it’s too soon or we’re moving too fast. I don’t care if it’s only been a month since I started to really live again. I don’t care that there’s a chance that I’ll end up looking like a fool. It was such a surprising feeling, such a liberating moment. I felt free. Free to breath easier. Free to take ownership of my city again. Free to revel in the love that has found me—whether my gut is right or wrong.
Hmmm… maybe Smokey works on multiple levels. As, it seems, he is sending my old fears up in smoke (while creating new ones).

Tuesday, May 24, 2011


So, I’m eloping this weekend.
Well, not really. But, I would. Crazy stupid, I know. I think one of the things that makes me trust this, besides the gut feeling, is that his ‘flaws’ are very obvious to me. Nearly half of my ‘must haves’ aren’t there, or are a different perspective than what I would choose if I were custom designing a man. However, after my own experiences and observing countless others, I know there is no realistic expectation for perfection or even close to it. He isn’t perfect. Neither was HWMNBN. Neither am I. Neither are the people in the few relationships that I admire and want to emulate. He does have my top three, however: 1. (Call me shallow) kissing ability. I don’t’ want to spend my life with, or even date, someone who can’t make me lose reality within his kiss. 2. Innate, gregarious, nearly compulsive, kindness/sweetness—not just to me, but to everyone. 3. Humor. The ability to make me laugh constantly—make it where I don’t want to be anywhere but by his side (which is a rare quality since I require so much me time and people can get under my skin so quickly). These three are my top, the things I can’t live without in a partner. Everything else is compromisingly gravy.
This whirlwind romance, this rocket launched, this flip of the switch, has the potential to blow up in my face, leaving me more wounded and bleeding than I was before. However, it also has the potential to be my own fantasy romance novel come to life. I just hope the author has a less gothic/tragedy flair than I do in my own writing.
Regardless of whether or not it’s smart, mature, realistic… I’m in love. Blows my mind—I truly thought this part of me had died. And, I for sure thought I didn’t deserve another chance at real love when so many never even get a taste. Damn the consequences. Screw figuring out every detail. Fuck that I’m at risk of devastation. I’m also at risk of having it all. I have leapt off the cliff. There is no going back. It’s either fly or fall.
I’m in love.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Rapturous Love

I went to an engagement party with the boy this weekend (Friday). We were the only gay people there, so it wasn’t a gay party. Outside of the couple, one of the main topics was the upcoming rapture the following day. Most people said they were for sure they would not be among the ones taken. The thing that struck me, in the midst of all the joking that was occurring, was the seriousness of the party guests as they talked about how they hoped it would happen (they didn’t believe it would, but were daydreaming about ‘what if…’). They spoke of a world without Christians and how nice it would be—not in a kill Christians kind of way, just in a ‘they’re gone’ scenario. How their hate over so many groups of people would disappear with them. How gays could marry. How they would no longer try to tell everyone how they should think and live their lives. Their accusations weren’t groundless or over the top. From an outside perspective (and, on a personal inside perspective), I could agree with every accusation they made. And it really struck me how the world perceives us. Even as I write Us, I realize that I can’t really count myself among that group. Well, maybe I could, but they sure wouldn’t count me among them. It’s interesting, if the rapture had happened Saturday, I knew I wouldn’t be one of the ones going. Mainly due to the fact that the group that was declaring this event held beliefs so opposite to whom I am that if they were right, their God was most definitely not my God. I did a little more research about them after the fact. I’d originally said that these posters and such didn’t seem to be in an attempt to raise money—that they seemed to simply be trying to reach people before it was too late. An act I can respect, even if it was laughable and completely unbiblical. However, I found out, due to these predictions, and previous endeavors, they have over $104 Million in assets! What also disturbs me is how many people who claimed to be long-standing Christians bought into this. I can understand people new the faith or those who never had any to begin with, but for those who have been Christians and have claimed to read the Bible, there should have been no question of the invalidity of these claims. If you’re going to hold so staunchly to the Bible and it’s teaching that you believe I’m damned to Hell, then at least know it enough that you’re not duped by things that are predicted to be falsehoods within its very pages.
On a personal note, man, am I in deep. I know it’s too soon, I know all the stupidity of it all. However, I’m in love. I’ve had crushes since HWMNBN, but I’m in love. Completely. And, it scares the shit out of me. I have something to loose again. I’m doing my best to simply enjoy it all and let it happen as it does, but that’s never been a natural state of being for me, and it’s a thousand times worse after the past few years. Despite the pain, there was as safety in the place I was in. Nothing could really affect me, outside of family. My walls were up so high, I was so solitary and confined, safe within the pain and seclusion. I don’t think I even realized it—I do now. The walls have crumbled, even as I tried to keep them up. I feel exposed, unprotected, and terrified. Of course I also am excited, happy, and anxious (good and bad). And stressed the fuck out! I so don’t want to be hurt again. Life is messy. Wonderful, but messy. [insert big sigh of stress and twiterpation here…]

Friday, May 20, 2011

closing my eyes and. . .

We leapt yesterday. Full force. No holds barred. (No idea what that really means.) Breaking every single rule there is.
Part of me is scared shitless. Most of me is screaming that I’m being stupid and I should know better. However, there’s just this core feeling that it’s gonna be alright. Of course, we know how accurate my gut feelings are.
I’m going for it!

Thursday, May 19, 2011

in mid-leap

It has been a crazy four days. Crazy is probably the correct word choice.
The date lasted from Sunday to Thursday. It would have been our second date, but maybe it should count as our second, third, fourth, and fifth.
For one of the first times, I’m not going to write about all the details yet. One, it’s too close. Two, I don’t want people’s input effecting my perspective—negative or positive. Three, I need to sit in it longer to even put it into words.
On one hand, I’m being absolutely foolish—way, way too fast, way, way too enmeshed, way, way too everything.
On the other. HWMNBN and I did everything perfectly. Just how you’re supposed to. We took our time, and boy did we. And, till he left, things were wonderful. But, he still left, even though we’d done it by the book. Not that the end results negates the process, but it does show there are no guarantees. So, maybe the reverse is true. Just because you break every rule in the book, maybe it doesn’t mean the end result can’t be good.
This could go one of two ways.
More than likely, I’ll have to look back on this and lament about my stupidity and allowing myself to have more hurt, take another long look at my codependent tendencies, and own to setting myself up.
However, it could be exactly what it feels like. Right. Comfortable. Passionate. Genuine. That’s really what it feels like—almost instantly. One of those times you look at the other person and go, “Oh. There you are.” Almost a relief. An aching relief, but relief nonetheless. I feels like it’s going to be one of those stories you hear that the people just knew. Both of us. Both just knew.
Gonna be one hell of a story. Either way. But, I really think he showed up. Not ready for it. Wasn’t quite done doing my own thing and not having to answer to anyone. Wasn’t published. But, he’s shown up…

Monday, May 16, 2011

a lot can happen in two and half days

Pretty great weekend. Went out twice. Two nights in a row of dancing. Saw three movies (well, two, but saw Bridesmaids twice). A whole day with Gavin and the family. Finally got the backyard all raked picked up. Spent an evening with the bff. Went on two dates. Got three hours of sleep Sunday night. Right now, I don’t have words to describe what may or may not be going on. If I did, you’d think I’m crazy and pathetic and a twelve year old who should know better. However, if things go as they could, it will be a really romantic story in several months…
I’ll leave it at that.

Friday, May 13, 2011

why it is you're holding onto me like it's the end of the world

A few weeks ago I brought up about the end of the world billboard signs in Denver (at least I meant to… I think I did). Anyway, they are announcing that Jesus is returning in eight more days or so. I visited their website. They are for real, not seeming to be trying to get money, just letting people know. Well, it seems I’m not the only one who noticed (not that I expected I would be, they’re billboards), but I didn’t expect them to draw as much attention as they are getting. They were on my conservative talk radio station this morning. Well, they weren’t, but their topic was and the date they are providing. This show’s host is the most politically like me of any person in the media that I’ve come across. Very American-freedom oriented, fiscally conservative, but also a stanch advocate for gay-rights and gay-marriage. Which is odd for a sixty-year old biker-dude who’s straight. The callers range from the no-thing-as-Hell people to the ones that are convinced by the information presented by this group and are preparing for the world to end in a little over a week.
It’s funny. I don’t believe it at all. Been through the end of the world stuff way too many times as a child. Plus, Biblically, there is no foundation for it, just the opposite in fact—that anyone that says they know the day. . . don’t. At least how I’ve interpreted it (and was taught). However, I still get that same or similar feeing (san terror that I used to have). It makes me sad still. I know if the world ended, perfection would ensue. But… I still want to live my life. I want to see if I can have true love more than once (though I’m more okay with the end than I used to be, having experienced love I never dreamed I’d have). I want to see my books published. I want to see my children. And, honestly, more than anything, I want to see Gavin grow—live every phase of his life with him, even though there’s gonna be so many hard times for him. That date, even though I don’t believe, has this little grain of anxiety in my chest, that will be relieved when that time comes and goes.
Some things die hard.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

tutoring with the gods

These rainy days when I have to work are difficult. Not in a depressing way, but it takes everything in me to not call off, go to the coffee shop, and write for hours on end. Talk about perfect! Soon, though, soon (sans rain, more than likely).
I took the night off massage (fiscally stupid, but emotionally necessary) and saw Thor in IMAX 3D with a dear friend. It was fun. Not one I’d see over and over again, but good nonetheless. However, it was a little painful. Most of the time, when there is a gorgeous guy in a movie, after a few minutes I become numb to him and just loose myself in the movie. It was impossible with Thor. And, it wasn’t even due to his one (only one!!!! WTF?) shirtless scene. Every moment he was on screen I was lost to him, not the movie. Holy crap! If he ever walked into a room, I would turn and run the other way, right after I recovered from fainting.
I am CONSIDERING adding tutoring to the job list this summer. It would be nice to have a job that doesn’t require me to stand in a darkened room for hours, and one that would allow me to be with kids (even if they are kids that don’t want to be in school in summer). I think it would probably be a good choice; however, I won’t do it if I can’t make a similar amount to massage, as I simply can’t sacrifice more of my writing time. That really (after family) has to be my priority this summer—both in terms of working for my dreams and also giving my psyche a rest from everything and loosing reality to the pages. I almost instantly said no and turned it down, but I’m starting to lean towards yes… We will have to see how it goes.
Turns out, I’m going out TWICE this weekend! Twice! Talk about playing with fire. I’m not sure what the trigger is, but I was in tears twice yesterday over HWMNBN. That’s not been typical lately, so I am worried about a set-back. Gonna get out there and force myself to live again, trying to get out of my own head and continued grief. Maybe this will be the weekend we run into each other. I doubt it, but you never know. I hope not.
In case you didn’t know, folks, it’s almost Friday. Almost the weekend!

Wednesday, May 11, 2011


At first I felt kinda bad for Andrew Bynum, the Laker’s player who got a penalty for $25K for taking his shirt of on the court and has to sit out five games next year for a foul —consequently making him loose $700K. (Take note: I’m talking about sports—you know that thing will dumb, incomprehensible rules and balls, and not the fun kind.) That’s a lot to loose, especially for simply for giving some sex appeal to stupid sports and elbowing someone in the ribs. Poor guy. Then, after my brain realized this was sort of a math problem, I figured out, if you (700,000 - 25,000)/5=X (before the staggering amount of taxes he must be paying) you see how much he makes per game. Don’t feel sorry for that chiseled-chest elbow shover. Baffling.
Of course, it’s equaling as baffling that my student’s bill (the boy that was hospitalized for two weeks [the one they made worse, not better upon discharge]) was $40K. Holy crap! Our medical system is so fucked up. So is ObamaCare, but OMG!
Speaking of Obama, he is saving me $160 a month, or should be if the pre-approval is correct. I got a call from my bank that said I qualified for some program Obama is doing that ends in a couple weeks. My folks who are going through short-sales and forecloses don’t (makes sense), but I do (thankfully). I had to pay $400. Which means the energy bill is probably not getting paid this month, but whatever. So, spend money to save money. I had this fantasy after I got the call that my $1400 a month mortgage would go down to 500 or 600. I could quit my second job, just teach and write. Mom told me I was dreaming (sweetly). She was right. However, it pointed out my childish delusions that I hold on to. Some miracle that will come along and make everything better—Obama gifts, the lotto, getting discovered singing at the pump, picked up by a plus-sized modeling agency, a stellar book deal. The money saved doesn’t help with my second job or writing or anything of the sort, but I can soon quit putting my student loans into forbearance and being paying them (so I’m grateful for that). At this rate, my $17K loans will dissipate in mere moments. So, while I still don’t like you all the much, Obama, I do have to think you for three things: helping end DADT, not supporting DOMA, and for $160 a month. Oh, make that four—if reports are to be believed, thanks for also giving the okay to kill a demon.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011


I get so frustrated with my kids (even more so with their families) that are always upset at everyone. Who always feel they are the victim. That time after time, the same complaint is made about them or they get in the same fight, or whatever. They always feel it’s the other person. Being blunt, I always point out that if the same thing, or same complaint, keeps happening to them through unconnected people, then the problem is them, not the rest of the world.
Having preached the message over and over and over, it is time to take my own medicine. After my last post on this subject, I’ve had two more unconnected people either complain or hint at my unavailability. Asking what’s wrong, why I don’t want to be friends with them or wondering if even contacting me is okay—even though I never said anything about being upset or tired of their friendships. It’s amazingly frustrating and makes me both feel pressured and a little manipulated. However, looking at it from outside my own psyche, I have to admit that since this keeps happening, the problem is obviously mine.
So, I will own it. I’ve turned into a sucky friend the majority of the time. Regardless of my excuses or reasons (time, exhaustion, depression, finances, family, blah, blah, blah), obviously the issue is with me.
So, the options are these:
1. Make the time to meet with all these people and spend a larger portion of every day returning emails, facebook posts, take time from massages, trying to find and agent, or (you know, I was gonna add personal time to that list, but I don’t even see where that happens except before right before bed).
2. Cut the list of friends down to a select few, who have been in my life the longest, who I can’t loose, and accept that I don’t have what is required to be in a relationships with so many people, while still working the second job and working on the books.
3. Continue as I am, letting people down and constantly frustrated with the complaints about my correspondence and friendship abilities (this topic baffles me still, being a good friend was always the top thing I thought I was good at—although, the changes in my life and personality are massive when you compare who and where I was then with who and where I am now I don’t even think HWMNBN would recognize me anymore if he returned. Probably left just at the right time. Okay, now I’m slipping into poor me, which is totally unattractive).
I realize that even in the midst of processing through this, I’m complaining or venting. Not wanting sympathy around it or anything like that—there are several other areas in my life that may require that—this is not one of them. My frustration level is through the roof on this, even if the fault lies in me. The old me would have chosen option one. It’s not even an option anymore. Not really. I simply don’t have that in me any longer. The thought of it makes me feel trapped and even more used up than I already feel. Neither two nor three feel perfectly right (although, two sounds like the healthier option), so I think I’ll probably slip into a combination of two and three. Not sure how that will look or even what that entails…
When is that winning lotto ticket coming so I can move into the coffee shop, shove in my earphones, and get lost in my novels (even if I’m the only one lost in them?)… I think it’s time…

Monday, May 09, 2011


A little over three weeks left. Three! Crazy. As normal, I am sooooo excited. Nervous too, as normal, as it means beginning installment number two on the series. I never wanted to do a series, at least not really. It’s intimidating enough to begin a novel and wonder how your characters are going to fill the pages. How much more so to think of filling several books. Anxious to see how it goes.
Despite this being the best teaching year I’ve had so far—more successes, less drama, finally feeling like I have an idea of what it means to be a teacher, not running to the bathroom to cry over HWMNBN—I don’t remember every being quite so exhausted before. The first few days I really think I’m going to just sleep and try to heal. We all know that won’t happen, but it’s nice to think about, kinda. Either way, with the exception of having to do massage, I get to pretend to live my dream life for a couple months. At least professionally and creatively. How great is that?
Ya know, there were several things I struggled with this weekend, and actually ended in tears on more than one occasion (we all know why), but I’m feeling pretty good today. Hopeful about the summer, about the books, and someday getting my waist back. I should probably just stop while I’m ahead, huh?

Saturday, May 07, 2011

A friend showed me the video to this song a couple weeks ago. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. I was near tears and I could feel it move me. I thought it was just the beauty and romance of the video (go watch it, amazing), but then I bought the album today, and read the lyrics, and I knew why it touched and hurt so.
It's like it was written for HWMNBN and my last night. When he told me he was leaving me, and we held each other all night, crying and loving.

End Of The World
Matt Alber

I don’t want to ride this roller coaster
I think I want to get off
But they buckled me down
Like it’s the end of the world
If you don’t want to have this conversation
Then you better get out
Cause we’re climbing to our death
At least that’s what they want you to think
Just in case we jump the track
I have a confession to make
It’s something like a cork screw

I don’t wanna fall, I don’t wanna fly
I don’t wanna be dangled over
The edge of a dying romance
But I don’t wanna stop
I don’t wanna lie
I don’t wanna believe it’s over
I just wanna stay with you tonight

I didn’t mean to scream out quite so loudly
When we screeched to a halt
I’m just never prepared
For the end of the ride
Maybe we should get on something simpler
Like a giant balloon
But I’ve got two tickets left, and so do you
Instead of giving them away to some stranger
Let’s make them count, come on
Let’s get back in line again and ride the big one

Don’t you want to fall, don’t you want to fly
Don’t you want to be dangled over
The edge of this aching romance
If it’s gonna end, then I wanna know
That we squeezed out every moment
But if there’s nothing left can you tell me why
That it is you’re holding onto me
Like it’s the end of the world

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

the could be worse reasons

Salazar (the salamander, keep up) has grown to such a level that the ten gallon terrarium was no longer sufficient. He couldn’t turn around on the land part or the water part; therefore, I had to purchase a new aquarium last night. I promise, you could actually see the joy on Salazar and the toad’s (Pansy, Narcissa, Delores, and Petunia) faces as they entered their new domain. Really.
I spent my morning before school setting up the new habitat and doing a couple other things as well: ripping my pants, again, breaking a pair of scissors, breaking the old fish tank, and dumping the container of seventy or eighty crickets on my classroom floor. And that was all before eight in the morning. I was ready to run full speed into the wall in hopes of gaining unconsciousness.
One of my co-workers asked me if my. . . gayhood. . . was just to large to fit in normal pants. I, of course, simply said yes.
The conversations teachers have. Never would have dreamed.
Speaking of, the fifth graders are going through the sex ed curriculum right now. Six weeks long and VERY intensive. I wish I would have had it. I learned several things going through it last year. One little girl came up to the teacher after the first day, and returned the book to her. In a very reprimanding and shocked voice she asked, “Ms. H, did you know what was in this book when you gave it to us?!?!?”
There is a box in the class that you can put anonymous question about anything you want the teacher to ask. She reads the question aloud and then gives an answer. The question was this: Will your penis continue to grow as the rest of you grows, or will it stay the same? The answer was this: Yes, your penis will continue to grow in relation to your whole body. The response: A dark haired boy in the middle of the room doing an arm pump and trying to say ‘YES!’ under his breath and failing utterly. So much for anonymity.

Tuesday, May 03, 2011

Politically Correct Lefties and Politically Correct Christians and Me

On a night where I actually could get more than five hours sleep, I woke up with a little more than an hour before my alarm was supposed to begin to screech. I considered getting up and beginning the day. Then, I realized that would be stupid, so I went back to sleep. Big mistake. The entire time, I dreamed about HWMNBN, all mixed in with horrible situations with one of my favorite female students I’ve ever had, that the wall separating my classroom from the younger SIED classroom (which operates very differently than mine [loudly]) was taken down, and of Dunkyn stuck in the middle of the street while dogs all around him were getting hit by cars and I was unable to get to him, knowing it was just a matter of time. The entire time this dream played out, I knew it was a dream. It almost made it worse, I couldn’t figure out to get it to stop or how to wake up, and I was disgusted with myself for dreaming up such scenarios. Horrible.
Then, I woke up to find a countless number of updates on Facebook expressing disgust with the American people for rejoicing in the death of bin Laden—likening it to being the same as he was—reveling in death. And/Or posts asking God to help them be gracious in their feelings toward this demon dressed as human [my words, not theirs]. I’m sure it’s the Godly thing, or is at least supposed to me, but it sickens me. Are we really going to waste time and energy with guilt over our joy of his death (of which I’m still not convinced—really, really hope I’m wrong) and feel the need to ask forgiveness of God for our feelings toward him and ask for a compassionate spirit for him? Really? While I know none of us are perfect and all sin is equal (however, I don’t believe that at all. Feel free to covet something of mine, have lustful thoughts, steal my money—don’t kill my family), I, for one, would have no trouble pushing the down button on the elevator for that atrocity of flesh.
Maybe my evil and vindictive spirit is what brought on the bad dreams. Maybe, I prove myself to be no better than bin Laden. Well, if you feel like that—add me to your list so you can feel guilty about judging me and ask for an injection of compassion for my soul.

Monday, May 02, 2011

two deaths

Conquered another step this weekend. A big one. In truth, I think it conquered me.
Went dancing. In Denver. Took all day Sunday to recover. Didn’t get out of bed till three in the afternoon. Not typical Brandon behavior. However, I don’t feel bad about it all. I’ve been so afraid of it for so long. With good reason. It wasn’t easy. I had to stop before getting on the dance for, tears were coming. Just one of those stupid moments where you’re about to take a step into a picture of your old life, and as soon as you cross that threshold, the pieces shatter and your left with the reality of what is now. Wiped the tears and danced harder than I think I’ve ever danced before. At some point, I’ll have to face these places with him actually there, and me staying. However, can’t control that. If it gave any indication of how that night went, I have a inch and a half cut on ass. No idea how or why. Like I said, danced like I’ve never danced before. Typically, I would begrudged a day like Sunday that was not begun until late afternoon. However, between the emotional and physical drain of the night before, it was well warranted. And, dear Colorado Springs friend, thanks so much for joining me on this step—and for taking care of such a hot mess. 

In other news, bin Laden is dead. In pure ‘Show Me State’ fashion, I have a hard time believing it. The timing seems too convenient. But, I come by conspiracy theories all too naturally, so hopefully, I’m wrong. (And yes, I do believe people landed on the moon.) Either way, all the people concerned about him being buried within twenty-four hours due to his religion… [well, even I had to erase what I just wrote.]