Good News!

February 16, 2005 at 10:43 am (Uncategorized)

Good news, finally… sort of. My ADD doc and others are trying to get CHARTER SCHOOL LEGISLATION PASSED!!! I told him I would help in any way. I have quite a few contacts at the Capitol through clients and associates of our firm, especially other attorney’s and friends of friends. Woot!!! Yay!! Yay!!

Once the legislation is passed they will apply for a charter for an ADD/ADHD school!!! Woot! Woot! Woot!

Furthermore, found out the school is fucking me over on Nate’s evaluation/IEP/504. This is their unlucky day. I’ve bypassed the teacher now and I’m going straight to the head of the resource room. I’m fairly certain that Nate’s teacher would have sent my message along but then it was conveniently lost or misplaced by said principal who is a bitch who could use a big fat PB&J sammich! She’s obscene.

Trust me, when I walk into the school its like they have “Parent who gives a shit” radar and all administrators and teachers automatically hide somewhere. And if they are caught by you then they smile like they’ve smelled something bad. I have news for these peeps. There is nothing wrong with Nate. He’s not a freak nor is he a bad kid nor is he lazy or without merit. The fuckers just don’t want to have to make accommodations for kids like him.

Now, I work 5-6 days a week. Last year, I paid out over $1300.00 in state taxes. AND, we have the fucking lottery supplementing my tax dollars. Yet, they don’t want to have to take the time to give Nate oral tests, which he can do much better on, than making him sit for hours and hours on end, which accomplishes nothing! The point is not whether Nate can write word for word everything they want, the point is whether or not he knows the material!!!

How often do you write something longhand if you can write it on the computer? I do, but that’s just because I like to slow myself down and watch myself form letters on the page, otherwise, fuck it, I’m using the computer. Even if I send snail mail letters… they’re still freakin’ typed! Yet, they want to force Nate, who has the information in his mind, yet can’t get it out through his hand sit and sit and sit and sit.

The Lonely Child has trouble reading material and understanding it. BUT, if you read it TO him then he understands perfectly. Yet, they won’t do it nor will they give him ANY ASSISTANCE IN THE SCHOOL to help him. Luckily, many school systems in WV are pushing through a different reading system which has practically a 100% rating. This system teaches kids to read who the experts said never would. Out with Saxon Phonics.

I’m going to call my doc’s office back and find out what that system is and where I can find a copy of the program or someone who can use it for The Lonely Child. I’m doing research on Charter school legislation, and if I have to, I’ll type up the freakin’ legislation myself, its not like I don’t know what I’m doing in the legal craptola.

Anywho… Monday my I-net was filtered at work. I thought I was gonna die. I do have I-net access now… go figure but I’m being cautious. So, if I’m not around a lot like I used to during the day… now you know why. I know I owe a fews of ya e-mails and I’m getting there.

Have a great day! And that’s an order!

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Lune Bug

February 15, 2005 at 7:21 am (Uncategorized)

Spider web glitters
Spinning its silky, wavy web
All so busy

~By Nate (02/14/05)

My son, the poet! I’M SO PROUD!!

I had another post but blogger ate it. It was about how I wanted to throttle Nate for taking 5 hours to do his Math. Then, I didn’t finish the post because I laid down with him because he’s scared of the dark again due to the SD stupid girlfriend and her stupid Boogeyman movie. I’ll Boogeyman her!


March 5th/6th – to Nashville to visit AJ.
End of March/Beginning of April – (tentative) NOLA/Houston. CooterAng will be in NOLA around the 14th. Hop over to Cootersnap for the final dates.

April 15th/16th – (with my cousin) Atlanta for the GA Renn Fest. Aimee is contemplating coming out, Seven is too, and Regan lives there.

May (first weekend) – Northern VA to see Troy before he leaves for Afghanistan.
May 14th/15th – (with my cousin) TN Renn Fest outside of Nashville. I’m bringing Nate to this one.

Summer – Jamie and I are in the “hoping” stages of taking our boys to Holiday World Amusement Park in Indiana.

Join the Nanner Peach World Wide Whirlwind Tour of ’05!!!

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A Different View

February 13, 2005 at 6:50 pm (Uncategorized)

From ~ The Edison Gene by Thom Hartmann

I was in India in 1993 to help manage a community for orphans and blind children on behalf of a German charity. During the monsoon season, the week of the big Hyderabad earthquake, I took an all-day train ride almost all the way across the subcontinent (from Bombay through Hyderabad to Rajamundri) to visit an obscure town near the Bay of Bengal. In the train compartment with me were several Indian businessmen and a physician, and we had plenty of time to talk as the countryside flew by from sunrise to sunset.

Curious about how they viewed our children diagnosed as having Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), I asked, “Are you familiar with those types of people who seem to crave stimulation, yet have a hard time staying with any one focus for a period of time? They may hop from career to career and sometimes even from relationship to relationship, never seeming to settle into one job or into a life with one person-but the whole time they remain incredibly creative and inventive.”

“Ah, we know this type well,” one of the men said, the other three nodding in agreement.

“What do you call this personality type?” I asked.

“Very holy,” he said. “These are old souls, near the end of their karmic cycle.” Again, the other three nodded agreement, perhaps a bit more vigorously in response to my startled look.

“Old souls?” I questioned, thinking that a very odd description for those whom American psychiatrists have diagnosed as having a particular disorder.

“Yes,” the physician said. “In our religion, we believe that the purpose of reincarnation is to eventually free oneself from worldly entanglement and desire. In each lifetime we experience certain lessons, until finally we are free of this earth and can merge into the oneness of God. When a soul is very close to the end of those thousands of incarnations, he must take a few lifetimes to do many, many things-to clean up the little threads left over from his previous lives.”

“This is a man very close to becoming enlightened,” a businessman added. “We have great respect for such individuals, although their lives may be difficult.”

Another businessman raised a finger and interjected. “But it is through the difficulties of such lives that the soul is purified.” The others nodded agreement.

“In America they consider this behavior indicative of a psychiatric disorder,” I said. All three looked startled, then laughed.

“In America you consider our most holy men, our yogis and swamis, to be crazy people, as well,” said the physician with a touch of sadness in his voice. “So it is with different cultures. We live in different worlds.”

We in our Western world have such “holy” and nearly enlightened people among us and we say they must be mad. But as we’re about to see, they may instead be our most creative individuals, our most extraordinary thinkers, our most brilliant inventors and pioneers. The children among us whom our teachers and psychiatrists say are “disordered” may, in fact, carry a set of abilities-a skill set-that was necessary for the survival of humanity in the past, that has created much of what we treasure in our present “quality of life,” and that will be critical to the survival of the human race in the future.

This came to me via e-mail from Thom Hartmann’s organization. I signed up for this newsletter after ordering his book, “Thom Hartmann’s Complete Guide to ADHD.” He has a theory, supported in part by microbiological research (regarding the interaction of dopamine system genes, DRD4, DRD5, and DAT1 and that of the monoamine system.) Or, something like that. I’m still wading through the medical journals and attempting to figure it all out. I mean, that is part of it, taking things apart to figure out how they work. For some people, its cars, for me, its people. There are articles from genetics, psychiatric genetics, psychiatry, molecular psychiatry, clinical psychology, neural transmission, biological psychiatry, adolescent psychiatry, neuropsychopharmacology, pediatrics, deviant behavior pediatrics, neuropsychobiology, internal medicine, and neuropsychiatric genetics.

Yeah, yeah, but what does it all mean?? It means, there is an abnormality in my dopamine. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter formed in the brain. It takes messages from point A to point B. In most people anyway. Now, they can say all they want… but they really DON’T KNOW. There are many genes, and alleles of genes which have to work together to be so dysfunctional. Either my body doesn’t metabolize something correctly or some little receptor rejects something and then it can’t find a place to go and just kind of meanders around making trouble.

However, according to Mr. Hartmann, ADHD and its genetic components were necessary in the hunter world of yester year for the survival of our very species. The Edison Gene. The Edison Trait. The Hunter Gene. The traits most associated with ADHD are seen as liabilities, when in fact, they can be valuable assets.


Distractibility is often incorrectly characterized as the inability of a child or adult to pay attention to a specific task or topic. Yet people with ADHD can pay attention, even for long periods of time (it’s called hyperfocusing), but only to something that excites or interests them. It’s a cliché-but true-that “there is no ADHD in front of a good video game.”

ADHD experts often noted that it’s not that those with ADHD can’t pay attention to anything; it’s that they pay attention to everything. A better way to characterize the distractibility of ADHD is to describe is as scanning. In a classroom, the child with ADHD is the one who notices the janitor mowing the lawn outside the window instead of focusing on the teacher’s lecture on long division. Likewise, the bug crawling across the ceiling or the class bully preparing to throw a spitball is infinitely more fascinating than the teacher’s analysis of Columbus’s place in history.


The characteristic of impulsivity has two core manifestations among modern people with ADHD. the first is impulsive behavior: acting without thinking things through or the proverbial leaping before you look. Often this takes the form of interrupting others or blurting things out in conversation. Other times it’s reflected in snap judgments or quick decisions.

To the prehistoric hunter impulsivity was an asset because it provided the ability to act on instant decisions, as well as the willingness to explore new, untested areas. If the hunter were chasing a rabbit through the forest with his spear, and a deer ran by, he wouldn’t have time to stop and calculate a risk/benefit analysis. He would have to make an instant decision about which animal to pursue, than act on that decision without a second thought.

The second aspect of impulsivity is impatience. For a primitive farmer, however, impatience and impulsivity would spell disaster. If he were to go out into the field and dig up the seeds every day to see if they were growing, the crops would die. (A contemporary manifestation of this is the person who can’t leave the oven door shut, but has to keep opening it to check how the food’s doing, to the detriment of many a soufflé.)


Risk-taking, or, as Dr. Edward Hallowell and Dr. John Ratey describe it in their book Driven to Distraction, “a restive search for high stimulation,” is perhaps the most destructive of the behaviors associated with ADHD in contemporary society. It probably accounts for the high percentage of people with ADHD among prison populations, and plays a role in a wide variety of social problems, from the risky driving of a teenager to the infidelity or job-hopping of an adult.

Yet for a primitive hunter, risk and high-stimulation were a necessary part of daily life. If a hunter were risk- or adrenaline-adverse, he’d never go into the wilds to hunt. For a hunter, the idea of daily risking his life would have felt “normal.” In fact, the urge to experience risk, the desire for that adrenaline high, would have been necessary among the members of a hunting society, because it would have propelled their members out into the forest or jungle in search of stimulation and dinner.

Condensed from ~ The Edison Gene

Its nice to see a postive outlook. And research supported by a variety of medical specialists.

T-Bird made this observation last night, “You’re an ADD Scorpion Empath. No wonder your life is hell.” (Is that the same thing as an INFP?) My life is not hell. I’m just beginning to understand my complexities and how my biological and emotional traits feed off of one another. I’m settling down in my own skin, so to speak. Embracing those things which I have been told were “bad” or “abnormal.” Seeing those things which were once liabilities as strengths.

Speaking of INFPs… I saw a comment from a fellow INFP that said, “My mind never sleeps and I don’t understand why people just don’t get it!” I get it.

Here’s a question… If only 3-20% of the population (depending on whose numbers you use) have the combination of genes which lead to ADD/ADHD, and INFPs account for about 4.4% of the popluation, what are the chances that those having ADD/ADHD traits and those having INFP traits are the same?

If you care to take part in my non-scientific study, please do so.

The Bloginality test is here. If you already know your personality type then you’re ahead of the game.

The Jung typology test is here.

Symptoms associated with ADD/ADHD are here. Or do you or others see you more often as:

Non-linear in their thinking (they leap to new conclusions or observations)
Easily distracted (or, to put it differently, easily attracted to new stimuli)
Capable of extraordinary hyperfocus
Understanding of what it means to be an “outsider”
Easily bored

If you would like a copy of the Thom Hartmann’s e-mail, e-mail me here.

Otherwise, leave a message at the sound of the tone and I’ll get back to you. *Beeeeeeeep*

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Me? Petty and Vindictive?

February 11, 2005 at 2:07 am (Uncategorized)

Yeah. Got a problem with it? Tell a mammal that cares.

I’m going to wrap this up. I’m tired of thinking of SD… he’s really not worth this much effort.

Nate has GLOWING reports from school today and tomorrow he gets to spend time with the teacher by himself or rather, very few kids in the class, as its some kind of teacher day. Yeah, he has to be there in oh… 6 1/2 hours.

So, the locket. I’ll try to make this as short and sweet as possible but damnit, its just one of my favorite memories, for many reasons. In January, 1995, SD went to Atlanta for polygraph school. (Ha! SD giving polygraphs… bwahahhahhaa) Sorry… ahem. And I, of course, put my new found freedom to good use. I went to AZ’s bar. He used to own half interest and I would go there and hang out.

The bartender (and co-owner) knew I was a friend of AZ’s and just so happens that one night while SD was out of town they needed a waitress. So, I waitressed. AZ came in at one point and then had to leave to cut commercials so he asked me after the bar closed to stop by the radio station. Once Mike and I pushed all the drunks out the door etc. etc. we relaxed a bit. Mike was a good looking guy. Arab. Hot. Very hot. We laid down on the pool table together but not touching and we talked and we acknowledged that we were attracted to each other and then agreed, nah, we’re not going to do anything about it. He had a girlfriend and I had… SD.

I told Mike that I needed to get to the radio station because AZ had asked me to stop.

“No, no, no, you can’t do that.”

Why not?

“Because I have to go to the radio station and then he’ll know we’ve been here alone all this time.”


“He’s not going to like that. He’s not going to like that at all.”

Whaaa?? Bullshit. He’s not jealous. Besides, he knows if I’m going to cheat on SD, it will be with him. AND.. he also has a girlfriend.

“No, please don’t go down there. Please!”

Geeez… okay! I went home. Next day, about 7 p.m., the phone rang. It was AZ.

“Hey, what’s up?”

What happened between you and Mike last night?

*mouth drops open* “Nothing!”

Nothing, huh?

NO. And if he said anything happened he’s lying!

I went on to tell him everything that happened, finishing with… “I told him he was being ridiculous, that you weren’t going to be jealous and you should know if I’m going to cheat… blah, blah, blah.”

What makes you think I’m not jealous?

*gulp* (Whaa?) “Ummm… because you never act jealous.”

Just because I don’t act jealous doesn’t mean I’m not.

*squeezes eyes together, scrunches up face* “Uhhhh… okay.” *Looks at the sky with a questioning look*

He asked me if I could work that night, which I said I would.

Blah, blah, blah.

I worked. The three of us worked. Me, AZ, and Mike. And when the bar closed, I left with AZ. We went to the radio station I believe but I definitely know that we were in his car at the post office, where he convinced me, in a not so subtle way, that I really wanted to spend some “quality” time with him. Now remember, he’s seeing the woman who eventually become his fiance and then ex-fiance and I was seeing SD.

What’s a girl to do? Say yes, of course.

This is where the locket comes in. (I said comes… ahem, that’ll make more sense in a few) The locket I wore, was heart-shaped with fancy scrolls on it. It had been a gift from SD. I’m pretty sure that AZ knew who that locket was from. He notices things like that and in the midst of our “quality” time… things got a little… messy.

Damn, if its not hard to clean out the nooks and crannies and crevices of a locket. I swear I think he did it on purpose. It was really hard to clean. (That locket was to me, what Monica’s blue dress was to her.) Anytime after that when SD would piss me off, I would crack open that locket… remember… and smile a devious smile.

After what happened with SD, that locket came to mind. I know I took it off a long, long time ago… probably before SD and I split for good. It suddenly dawned on me that given the animosity between SD and AZ (as in, they hate each other) that… wouldn’t it be glowing revenge to “let it slip” how glad I was I had fucked around on him? I wouldn’t even need to tell him who it was with. He would know it was AZ. I could hope he would have a stroke. (Yes, after all these years, SD would still throw a screaming hissy if he knew I was unfaithful to him, even though he was being unfaithful at the time and not just to his wife.)

Alas… its not like AZ can’t be found. He can be and although he may welcome the thought of confronting SD and in rich, intimate detail explaining exactly what it was he did to me and the locket, I won’t put him in that position. (If you think SD wouldn’t… give him some liquid courage and he would.)

So, between you and me and AZ… we know and its enough.

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The Real Me

February 10, 2005 at 12:14 pm (Uncategorized)

SD called me back yesterday. And jumped my shit and down my throat. I had learned a long time ago to not let him get to me. Its his way of controlling me. I know this. But he caught me tired, sick, and distracted. He struck when the iron was hot. I’m sure he would like you all to know what kind of person I really am… so here it is.

1. I’m lazy and sloven.
2. I’m making Nate my slave.
3. I’m just like my mother.
4. The only reason Nate is on medication is because I don’t want to discipline him.
5. I took away his right to discipline Nate.

Other things:

Giving Nate responsibility and the opportunity to earn money by cleaning out the litterboxes , taking out the garbage, and putting food and water down for the cats is just me being lazy. No son of his should ever pick up cat shit. I should cater to his every whim while still teaching him the value of a dollar earned. He should have no responsibility yet learn responsibility and respect.

The only good discipline is a beating.

He’s watching my house and he’s going to call Child Protective Services if he ever hears of his son being forced to clean out the litterboxes to earn extra money. I’m not paying him enough. (Obviously I’m a cheap slave driver as well.)

And what did I do?

I lost it.

If I could have gotten through the phone, I’d be blogging from jail. No doubt in my mind. Its not the first time that I’ve allowed him to get to me. But it is the first time I’ve allowed it to this extend. I had to close the door to my office… right before I bellowed, “SHUT. UP!” That coming from the fact that everytime I tried to say something he would just talk over top of me.

Other times that this has happened, I just go to the alley and I smoke and I pace and I cuss, I call AZ sometimes. I was well beyond that today. I gathered the papers that I needed to fax, turned off my computer, put my coat on, and headed out. My esteemed colleagues, including my office manager, were all standing by the copier/scanner/fax machine. I’m sure they heard more than enough through the walls. Sissy looked at me and started to ask, “Are you okay?” I’m sure she meant to but it died out somewhere around “o.” Her eyes were wide. I’ve been told I can be quite intimidating when I’m really mad.

I wasn’t really mad. I was in a blinding rage. I barely remember faxing my papers. I just know that I said, “I have to go,” and I left. No one tried to stop me. No one asked if I was coming back. No one said anything. Hopefully, I’ll have a job tomorrow. I normally don’t stand up and walk out on my job at 2:15 in the afternoon.

Either my boss will be extremely upset with me, somewhat irritated, or he’ll want all the good gossip. You just never know with him. I really, really hope I have a job tomorrow.

Its amazing what a situation like this will bring up in you. All those onion layers you thought were discarded. I hated myself. And I hated myself more, because I hated myself. My self-esteem hangs by a fragile thread. I am well aware of my faults yet to have someone drown you in them is an entirely different matter. Not that I didn’t try to have my say but it escalated so quickly, I wasn’t able to get a handle on it. I went from 0 to a thousand in two minutes.

I know why he did it. It was to make himself feel better. I mean, how dare I question him as to what the hell happened over the weekend? How dare I tell him that I disagreed with his GF’s “discipline.” How dare I??? He brought up things that happened between three and five years ago. You know, how I dared to take Nate away from him when I had photographic proof of his handprint bruised on Nate’s ass. I mean how dare I?

Yeah, I’m a slob. I never throw anything away. I have enough papers in my house to feed a bonfire for a week, maybe two. Yeah, I’ve had a sick cat who hasn’t made it to the litterbox in time more than once in the past two weeks so yeah, we’ve had some nasty surprises that I’ve had to clean up. (He’s dying guys. He was eating and how he’s stopped again. He won’t even eat canned food.)

I’m lazy as I can be. I mean, I sat on my ass on the couch today beside of Nate while he completed 29 pages of past due work. I suppose I should have just walked back to my filthy kitchen and started cleaning again, not worrying about whether or not he got it done. Not to mention, Nate asked that I stay with him. Even as I was going through a pile of papers in the same room, it just wasn’t the same… he needed me beside of him.

Guilty as charged.

Yep… I sat on my ass after I put Nate to bed and made out 23 Valentine’s cards (the one’s I bought) and counted out 23 suckers (the one’s I bought) because Nate didn’t have time. I also made his Valentine holder because, yep, he didn’t get it done at school because he hadn’t got his other work done. I told him I would because I wanted him to work on the important stuff. Guilty man, guilty as fucking sin.

So, there you have it. My house is a disaster area. I’m a lazy cunt who wants to turn my son into a slave. I never discipline him so I put him on medication.


Tomorrow I’ll tell you about the locket.

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I am so *groan* ill

February 9, 2005 at 12:13 pm (Uncategorized)

* This gets really sexually explicit near the bottom. Remember “Anything Goes”*

By Sunday afternoon, I had a roaring headache which I took four ibuprofen for and laid in the bed. Last night it returned with a vengeance. I went home and laid down, hoping to sleep it off but Nate wouldn’t allow that. Then I thought perhaps when I had something to eat that would help it out as well. Nope. If anything the flourescent lighting at IHOP just made it worse.

I was lucky to make it home without throwing up. Ye Olde Migraine. I hate those bitches. I’m still groggy this morning and my stomach still feels yucky. Real yucky. Although I did eat something to see if it would settle down.

Nate has done a complete 180 from where we were last week. Now, Sperm Donor wants to blame me for Nate being, what he described as, “whiny and wild” all weekend. And, of course, I want to blame Sperm Donor for whatever happened to the child I was working with last week. 1-8-0. Nate had a lot of homework to do last night and wormed around, lied and got his butt busted. I swear he turned around and mentally gave me the middle finger.

I’m not a tapper. He had deliberately disobeyed me and I lit him up. He didn’t cry, he just turned and looked at me. Now, forgive me but I KNOW SOMETHING IS WRONG!!! Something. Is. Wrong.

So, I just got off the phone with Sperm Donor. Seems as though his girlfriend took the kids to see “The Boogeyman.” What the fuck did she think she was doing? That’s like Freddy Krueger and Nightmare on Elm Street which scared the shit out of me when I was 14, much less EIGHT!!! Then he decides to tell me that Nate had been acting up when his girlfriend took him and Aimee out and when they got in the car, Nate got pissed because the GF let Aimee sit up front and he started kicking the seat. And what does the GF do? She threatens to cut off my son’s fingers and toes which then makes him cry.

Is this how this woman raised her own children? I mean, how effective is that? You might scare the crap out of him but… how effective is that of being a deterrent to bad behavior? In order for it to be effective she would have to cut off his fingers and toes!!! Which I would kill her for. And Sperm Donor doesn’t believe there is any type of discipline but a good beating. I generally jumped down his throat and told him how ignorant she is and how if she can’t effectively discipline Nate then she doesn’t need to be alone with him.

FURTHERMORE, she made such a piss poor decision as to what movie was appropriate for him to watch, that its no wonder the child has been tossing, turning, kicking, moaning and groaning in the bed. He got up Monday morning looking like someone had socked him in both eyes. All the work I did to get him to bed at a decent hour, laying down and going to sleep by himself??? OUT THE DOOR! Start over. Sorry Mommy, back to square one… better yet, start at a deficit. Sperm donor said he was NOT HAPPY that she let him see that movie nor what she said to him.

Now, I know why she told him what she had said to Nate. She was afraid that either, Aimee would tell her mom who would then call me (she just loves getting SD in trouble, not that he doesn’t do a fine job of that by himself) or she was afraid that Nate would tell me. Which he has yet to do…. He ran over boundaries all weekend with no true consequences. I told SD that the GF needs to establish boundaries with real consequences. It doesn’t mean he has to be beat into submission but he needs to realize there are CONSEQUENCES.

Last night, I lost my temper and yelled at him. I’ve learned that the calmer I am, the more likely he is to listen and do what I tell him. If he knows he’s upsetting me, well, then he’s accomplished his goal. His goal is to upset me to the point where he gets his way. He didn’t get his way but he succeeded in upsetting me. Of course, that’s not hard to do when I feel like the top of my head is going to explode and I’m going to puke all over the place.

It doesn’t do any good to sit around and be mad at SD and the GF. It doesn’t do any good to feel sorry for myself that I don’t have a stronger in-house support system. I can’t allow myself to lose control. I HAVE to stay calm. I have to. I. AM. IT.

Although I can’t help but think if I was getting fucked hot and hard every other day… okay, every day… no, no, twice a day, that somehow this would be easier to bear. Having a dick at my disposal to take my frustrations out on would be, at this point, heaven. The more stressed I get, the more I want it.

The more tired, frustrated, pissed off, and angry I am, the more I want it, the more I crave a man’s hands on my body and hot, urgent kisses. Where a mere breath breathed on my neck is enough to make every nerve tingle, where I want my body bit and sucked on, as though drawing poison out of it. Where he has to put one arm around my shoulders and one hand on my ass because he’s fucking me so hard and we’re so sweaty that he’s afraid he’ll fuck me right off the bed.

And release… sweet release… the sheet-ripping, toe-curling, back-arching, breath-catching release. The sliding-down-his-body, licking-sweat-as-you-go-until-he’s-straddling-your-shoulders, taking him in your mouth, hands on his ass pulling him deeper inside, his hands in your hair, holding your face both tenderly and savagely with him inside of you, and you watch his muscles tremble, his eyes close… his head falling back as he gives himself over to the release. You’re watching it and feeling it and tasting it.

Its power

and love

and lust

and hate

and anger

and understanding






and pain






and hell




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There Are No “Get Out of Purgatory Free” Cards

February 8, 2005 at 2:49 am (Uncategorized)

Thank you all so much for your outpouring of support, love, and friendship. It means the world to me. Although, I’m quite upset that so many of you can relate. I hate that more than you’ll ever know. No one should be so tortured. I bet I brought up bittersweet memories. Maybe this will make you feel a little better.

If you think I’m honest here, imagine how honest I am with someone I’ve known for 13 years. Imagine you reading my blog for 13 years. Imagine the things you would know about me. Imagine the things we would share. Imagine what I would know about you. Does it make you feel vulnerable? Does it make it you a little frightened to cross someone who knows you so well? And I do say that with a bit of maliciousness and bitterness. I’m not going to sit here and say, “this doesn’t bother me a bit.” Because I would be lying.

It does bother me. And more than a bit. But don’t think he gets away with it. He knows exactly what he does to me.

He knows exactly how to draw me to him like a moth to the flame.

I’m very sensitive to his moods, which are many. He feeds my sixth sense like a hungry baby bird. Its the “look over the left shoulder” phenomena. I’ll be sitting at work minding my own damn business when I’ll look up at the window on the atrium and see my reflection, look over my left shoulder, and then just pick the phone up and dial.

Today though, I had a reason to call as my boss is interested in some property. The business part of our call lasted three minutes. The rest of the call lasted 37. He was stewing in his own juices when I rang him up. Angry. Exhausted. Pissed. Perturbed. Disgusted. Sullen. A cross-section of our conversation:

I: So, how are ya today?
A: I’m exhausted and fucking pissed off. (growled)
I: What happened?
A: Stupid fucking people. I’m so fucking exhausted. (sullen)
I: What happened AZ?
A: *sigh* Remember I had that wide screen TV to give away?
I: Yup.
A: It got locked in (name of bar) when they shut it down and I paid, out of my own fucking pocket, to get it out of there. I wanted the people that had already qualified to win it to still have the opportunity.
I: No way! It got locked up with the other stuff?
A: Yup, and I had to pay to get it hauled out of there too.
I: Shit.
A: And because I’m such a fucking nice guy I ended up with one guy laughing obnoxiously in one ear (imitates obnoxious laughing) and one guy trying to get me to give him free shit all night. (Imitates guy: “Hey man, I know ya got some stuff, why can’t ya give me some stuff.”)
I: *snort* *giggle*
A: So *snort* I look over at the laughing guy and I see my fork imbedded in his eyeball.
I: *laughing* *snort* *cough* *snort* *laughing*
A: But then I had to blink… and it was gone (fake sadness).
I: *laughing* *cough* ahem… ‘scuse me.
A: And then I looked over and the other guy is laying on the floor, his head twisted around like the Exorcist.
I: *belly laugh*
A: And then I had to blink again *sniff* *sniff*
I: Bwhahahhahaahahahahahahahahahaahahaha
A: Hahahhahhahahhahahahahahaha… hee hee hee. *wicked evil laughter*
I: *laughing* *snort* *gasp*
A: I was having so much more fun until I blinked. (fake sadness)

Then we both laughed and went on to talk about other things.

I”m digressing because now I’m so exhausted.

For better or worse… I still have contact with him. And because of that contact I have the opportunity to tell him how I feel. Like I wrote above, if you think I’m honest here, its nothing compared to what I write to him. Matter of fact, I put in my latest letter part of what I wrote in my blog yesterday… the malaria part and the paragraph before that about the self-torture. See, there are no “get out of purgatory free” cards here. My purgatory is his purgatory, meant viciously or not.

We have finally gotten to the point where we have dialogue about it at times. I find myself much, much stronger and straight forward when given the opportunity than I used to be. I used to be very tongue-tied over things like this in the past and when I come out with shit in conversation I can tell it rocks him back a little. I find that talking to someone is an excellent way to communicate and not nearly as frightening as I always believed. Then again, I guess it depends on who’s on the other end of the conversation.

I contemplated, once again, just breaking all communication with him and telling him exactly why. Or just not telling him, which is the cowards way out. The thing is, I’m not sure what would make me more miserable, not talking to him or continuing to talk to him. That is something I will have to address with him. Soon. He’s not the kind of person to say, “Do what you gotta do,” and walk away. Well, he is, but not to me.

Unfortunately (Fortunately? Unfortunately?) neither of us really have that ability with each other.

I’m reminded of something that happened a long time ago. Probably in the first year to year and a half that we knew each other. We were laying in the bed. He was on his back and I was curled up next to him since its always arctic cold when we sleep (whether together or separately) and I was just drifting off when he ran his hand up my back and he said, “Hey.” I raised my head and looked at him but he didn’t look at me.

“Know what I did the other day?”

“No, what?”

“I went through my address book and I erased people right out of my life.” That sent a chill right up my spine. The finality of his words.


“But when I got your name, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself erase you,” and then he looked at me and I saw anger and pain in his eyes, and then they softened. I don’t remember what I said, but I do know I probably kissed him and ran my hand down his chest. Then I would have turned over and he would have pulled me flush against him, draping his left arm over my waist, our hands intertwined and tucked between my breasts as we slept.

Its okay AZ. I can’t make myself erase you either.

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February 6, 2005 at 3:07 am (Uncategorized)

Sometimes I forget that this is my diary and I have a right to put anything in here. I’m honored that people stop by to read my thoughts and feelings, sorrows, troubles, and triumphs and leave bits of wisdom and encouragement. Lately I really haven’t felt much like blogging. I’ve felt like writing just not here.

I’ve had a “blog” for years. With just one reader. That reader is AZ. I miss writing to him. I’m very aware that in little over a week, we will have known each other 13 years. It’s been an honor and its been purgatory. On December the 15th, I posted about my realization that we’re just going in different directions. I really hate that. I really hate it that I care that I hate that. No matter how much I know I won’t and can’t save him or fix him, I very much want him to catch up to me.

I’m having a lot of trouble pinpointing exactly how I do feel. I just … miss him. I miss him a lot. But why? Can I tell you what an asshole he is? A jerk? A workaholic? Yeah, I could. I’ve got enough ammunition.

But that’s not what he is to me. That’s what he wants everybody to think. Its a survival mechanism. No, not everyone thinks he’s a jerk and an asshole, they think he’s a swell guy. And he is. He can be.

He’s so complex though.

I really hate anniversaries. And number 13 to boot. Maybe it’ll be a lucky one.

I brought home a yellow legal pad and a super fine point pen. Black. That’s what I’m writing his letter on. I’ve written a lot of letters on yellow legal paper. I’m sure half a dozen or more to AZ. I like watching my hand form letters on the page. I’ve put it off and put it off since I got home because… I keep trying to think of what to say, knowing I should just start with, ‘Dear AZ’ and the rest will work itself out.

Maybe more than anything I’m afraid of what I will write, and worse, how I will feel. Dear G-d, it couldn’t be any worse than the funk I’ve been walking around in. Well… yeah, I guess it could. Do you know what its like to look at yourself in the mirror and say, “Stop it!” And to fight your feelings as hard as you can? I do. I know it very well. Have you sat at your desk and buried your hands in your hair and begged yourself to stop torturing yourself? I just did.

I’m so sick of this! He’s like fucking malaria!! Can’t get rid of him!!! And I go along, and I’m doing so good and then BOOM, one little thing. ONE. LITTLE. THING.

HOW CAN ONE LITTLE THING HAVE SUCH AN EFFECT ON ME? I’m stronger than this. I guess that fucking onion still needs peeled some more.

I just want to chop the onion up and eat it on a hotdog. Sick of the onion.

That little thing… was his girlfriend. He said she doesn’t complain because he works so much. Doesn’t give him a hard time. G-ddamn that pissed me off… They’ve been dating for three fucking years!!! Does she not understand why he works so much???? He’s trying to put himself in the grave early because he is so fucking miserable!

I know its not my problem or even my business. But it is. Because I love him. I’m kind of used him being around.

He never gave up on me. And I know if I ever need anything, he’ll be there. I just can’t turn away from that. I’m so scared though. I’m scared he’s going to die. His dad died when he was 52 and his dad’s brothers died young. Probably what upsets me most, just slightly less than losing him, is that my hands are completely tied. It makes no difference what role I take in his life. My hands are tied. That’s a pretty hopeless feeling.

Fuck. I hope he remembers what I asked him about Nana. What if he got her genes instead of his dad’s? She’ll be 92 this year… March, I think. Would serve his ass right. Fuck. I can’t change it anyway but G-d it feels good to bitch about it.

Eye of the Tiger

Risin’ up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance, now I’m back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive

So many times, it happens too fast
You trade your passion for glory
Don’t lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive

It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight
Risin’ up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
And he’s watchin’ us all with the eye of the tiger

~ Survivor


Is it my fortune or my fame
Is it my money or my name
Is it my personality
Or just my sexuality, yeah, yeah

What is my charisma
What is my charisma, yeah
Is it my body or my brain
Do I drive you insane, ha
Is it the power of my touch
Do you need me too much, too much, too much

Am I the master of your soul
Do you lose all control, ha
Is it my fire or my flame
Do I drive you insane, charisma


Well… a shitty recording of a shitty recording of “Charisma,” jusss cuz I want’s to.

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February 6, 2005 at 3:07 am (Uncategorized)

this is an audio post - click to play

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Up, Down and Around

February 4, 2005 at 11:28 am (Uncategorized)

The Natester

Nate had a ‘bad’ day at school yesterday. He brought home math and science and is still behind on AR points. He said he only got one sheet of his reading comprehension done. *Sigh* I asked why and he said, “I just can’t do it.” I said, “‘Can’t never could’ but let’s move on to your homework.”

I asked him about the math. He said, “I was dawdling.” I hate that word with a passion. My mom used that word many, many times in my childhood. I asked him who had said that to him and he just said, “It was one of our spelling words one time.” So he attaches it to himself…. I don’t like that.

I have found that if Nate gets stuck on a problem then he stays stuck. He was having trouble half-way through his math and I asked him if he knew what the ones below it were and he said he did. I said, do the ones you know first, then come back to the other ones, just make sure you leave space for your answer. Oh. This way… you get all the ones you know done and then have time to go back to the harder ones. What the poor kid was doing was not being able to do a certain problem and sitting there and sitting there, not moving on, not asking the teacher. No wonder he’s not getting anything done.

Same thing with reading comprehension. Nate hates to write (he didn’t get that from me obviously). What he’s doing is answering some questions on his worksheets then coming up against a lot of writing and stalls out. I told him to do all the multiple choice/fill in the bubble/fill in the blank parts and then come back to the writing so he gets more done and has the time left to write his sentences. Oh.

Afterwards, he comes into the computer room and says, “You know, that math and science wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” Hmmm… so he thought it was too hard so he’s not even been trying??? Yes? No? Even later as we got ready for bed I was trying to put in his little brain what I had said earlier about doing the problems he knows and then I said, “See, you can do reading comprehension just fine.”

“No, I can’t Mom.”

“You just did Nate.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. You read your Science book and answered questions. That’s reading comprehension.”

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh huh!”

“No, its not.”

“Yes. It. Is. You read something in a book. You answer questions. That’s reading comprehension. If you can’t understand what you read you can’t answer the questions. You read your science, all about mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and birds and then you answered questions. THATS reading comprehension. It just happened to be science.”

Silence. *Wheels turning over and over in his little mind* (Hopefully)

And then Sperm Donor happens to call. (Let’s all dance a jig.) He asked how Nate was doing in school so I told him. I told him about Nate’s troubles and what he and I had talked about etc. When I finished he said, “I’ll see you later,” and hung up. This makes the 2nd time he’s done that in the past two weeks. If I don’t just say, “He’s doing great!” then he doesn’t want to hear it and he definitely doesn’t want to take any responsibility for helping Nate to work through it and do better. He just expects to look at Nate and say, “Do better or else,” and Nate is supposed to do it. Right.


AZ was featured in the Life & Style section of our local newspaper on Sunday. My mother actually called me and told me about it. Since it was a few degrees above freezing, Nate and I walked the mile round trip from our house to the local convenience store for coffee, hot cocoa, cigarettes, a newspaper and then swung through Tudor’s on the way back for biscuits. It was nice to get out in the crisp air.

It was funny reading the article about someone I know so well. Then putting the paper down and shaking my head. I resisted calling him until Monday to let him know I had seen the article and wondered why he hadn’t told the writer what a cesspool he thought the world was and how miserable his existence in it is. He chuckled when I said that and remarked, “I was trying to keep it positive.” I had actually done an entire post on the people we find behind the faces we see around us but it turned into something else so I just put it in draft.

My receptionist also kept a copy of the article and gave it to me so I offered it to him since I knew he would want to send one to his Mom, brother, Nana, aunt etc. He said he would appreciate it and I told him I would drop it off at either the print shop, the real estate office, or drop it in the mail, but he said he would just swing by and pick it up.

*Raised eyebrow* *quizzical look*


Stupid People

Clients of mine drive for two hours yesterday to pick up a settlement check for one of them… without calling first or waiting for my call… which is what I told them to do. Then I have to scramble to get the checks written and have an attorney sign them. Luckily, I had an attorney available.

Then they come back because the bank won’t cash the check because the guy’s ID is expired and has been expired for TEN YEARS!!! (Yes, he is mentally handicapped but still…). I tell them to get him another ID.

They come back this morning, again without calling. They tell me they can’t get the ID right away because of they have to send off to Richmond, VA for a birth certificate (how is this my problem?) They don’t want to deposit in someone else’s account because then it will take 10 days to clear (how is this my problem?) So they want me to walk them down to the bank and get CASH. NO FUCKING WAY… if it was $3000.00 maybe, but not $9000.00 without my boss’s express consent. And, so sorry, but my boss is not here and won’t be here until later this afternoon. Should have called first.

The office manager and I had a long discussion and she went out to break the bad news. I suppose I’ll see them again in a few hours when they think the big boss will be here. Whatever.

Going to work this Saturday… make sure everything is in line for trial on Monday.

If I don’t see ya, have a good weekend.

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