Need to read

I need some new reading material. As far as I know, JD Glass, Kim Baldwin and Xenia Alexiou, and Radclyffe haven't put out anything new and they are my faves. I did hear that Joan Jett has a book out and Cherie Curry revamped Neon Angels. I have the original Neon Angels somewhere. Has anyone read the new version?

Updates on my brother are minimal. You would think that these highly paid, well educated doctors would have been able to figure out what is wrong by now. But the news was good. He is getting better a little more each day. And I have been praying that he will come out of this with a new, positive outlook and never go back to his old ways.

I have to believe he will. I really don't want to lose my best friend to drugs. I've already lost too many already.

Permanent Vacation

Well, I'm back from my trip to grandma's house. It was great. I helped them plant everything from roses to bell peppers and installed some fans and light fixtures. We went fishing and caught some trout and I treated them out for dinner on my step-grandfathers birthday. I really enjoyed my time there.

I didn't get to see Uncle Jim and Aunt Pam but I did get to see and go fishing with my Aunt Sherry. We didn't get to have a huge cookout like we planned but its okay. I plan on going back up as soon as I can.

I really didn't want to come home. Eleven days just wasn't enough time. But J really wanted me to come back...

While I was away, my brother got pneumonia. He was in the hospital for a few days then released only to have to go back to the hospital two days later. He's still there now but things are looking better for him. Mom says that he has been showing improvement every day. Thanks, Starr, for checking up on him for me. I owe you one or two or three...I lost count.

My time away ended up being just what I needed to get through all the crap in my head. Unfortunately, I'm still a little unclear on what my future will be. I really needed more time but I hate to hear the sound of tears - it crushes me - so when J asked if she could come up and get me, I gave in. Now I think I should have stood my ground and said no.

I think that maybe the problem isn't so much with J and I. I think its more about this house and the others that live in it. Sadly, as soon as I walked back in the door from my trip, I was instantly angry and full of hate. Its really not like me to be that way but it is out of my control any more. The people I live with just seem to bring out the worst in me.

Oh well...

I'm plan-less at the moment. I have two commissioned art projects to work on and a new song in the works. Other than that...I'll be attempting to keep my temper and sanity in check until I can get out of this place permanently.

Yeah...in desperate need of a permanent vacation. Hmph.

Future

Slowly...I'm getting ready for my trip. Sadly...I won't be able to bring my iMac.

But that's okay. I will be spending most of my time fishing anyway. Grandma loves to fish. I figure that by the time I get back, I won't want to see another fish for at least a year or two.

And the plan is...

Grandma is getting up there in age. I know of a million things that she loves to do but doesn't get to do them much anymore. Her husband (although he is younger than her) doesn't get around so easy anymore. He fell off one roof too many back when he was a carpenter. I figure...leave him at home to watch his game shows and me and Gramms will hit all the thrift stores and flea markets we can find. Maybe catch a movie or two. Eat at Red Lobster. Find a bowling alley. Start a garden. If I'm lucky, I'll get to climb a few trees and trim them up with the chainsaw. I plan on over filling their cabinets with plenty of good-for-you foods. Maybe even implanting some of my most positive thinking deep in their psyche.

Things I hope for...

A huge cook out with the half of my family that is close enough to visit. Aunt Sherry and her Doug, Uncle Jim and Aunt Pam, and hopefully cousin Justin and his Mitchell. Maybe even my cousin Jim and his huge family. If that happens, then possibly a huge game of CLR where I can lose all my quarters to my Aunt Sherry or Grandma. Maybe a pool tournament where I can lose more quarters. Possibly some darts where...well, you get the picture. And in all the quiet times, I plan on talking with my grandmother and learning all I can about what it was like for her to grow up poor in a huge family. I believe a book about her life would be amazing and even if I only let my family read it, I think it would be something she will be proud of until the day she passes on to the other side. And besides...I really want to know about her life. Our elders are walking encyclopedias of history. History that they lived and we will never be able to truly experience unless its put down in words for our futures.

All in all, I'm really looking forward to this trip. I'm looking forward to cleaning out my thoughts and getting back to whats important to me...even if I'm not sure what that is anymore. I think I need the head-space to breathe again. I just hope that J understands.

Last to know

I tell you, if it wasn't for Facebook, I wouldn't know shit about what is going on with my dad's family. Yeah, I know....aren't I his family too? I guess the fuck not. But it just goes to show how he likes to forget about his older kids.

I just found out - thanks to Facebook and my step mother posting - that my baby sister is sick and is going into the hospital tomorrow for tests. You would think my Dad or even my step mother would have called to say something. WTF!

I might not be close to step mom...we are pretty much the same age and its kind of awkward...but she knows that I love my youngest brother and sister as much as I love the rest of my siblings. She knows, or maybe she doesn't, how Dad shuts the rest of us out. She could have called.

Fuck! I'm not sure if I'm more angry at them or more scared for my sister.

Arrghh...whatever. Fuck the 'rents.

Pray for my sister, please.

16th Letter. I want to remember

It has been sixteen years to the day, hour, minute, since I got the phone call that changed my life, my belief, my world forever. Sixteen years since they told me you were gone.

I miss you.

I had a few rough years. Losing you shattered my belief in God. It shattered everything I thought life was supposed to be. Sometimes I still struggle to understand why God took you from us...from me. Maybe I shouldn't be so selfish, but I loved you so much.

I'm afraid that I will forget you. I'm afraid that if I don't try so hard to see you in my memory that you will fade away. I need you in my life, though. From you is where I pull my strength and without it, without you, living would feel pointless. Please help me remember.

Remember that song I wrote about you? The one I sang to you at your grave? I don't cry anymore when I sing it but it still hurts as bad to do so. I sang it on your birthday at Grandma's on Thanksgiving by request. Aunt Pam got it on DVD and now everyone knows; She gave them all copies. Everyone knows how much I love you and miss you. I'm okay with that now, but I still won't let them see me cry.

This past week was a little tough. It felt like everything was colliding inside. I'm so far away from where they buried you. I know that is not where you really are, but when I'm there, it feels like I know you can hear me clearer. I really needed to talk to you. I really needed your advice. And I couldn't get there...so I did what I could here.

Thank you. I'm sure it was you last night...the quick cool breeze that blew the hair from in front of my eyes as I sat on the couch thinking of you. You always pushed my hair from my face. You made me smile, and that was something I hadn't done all week. I really needed that.

I know you are someplace better. I know you are where you are supposed to be. I have finally come to a truce with God and God's mysterious ways. But it doesn't stop me from missing you like mad. It doesn't stop me from loving you.

And please don't let it stop me from remembering you.

B

Back on the air

*Bang, bang, bang*

Is this thing on?

Oh!

Hey, remember me? I hope so.

Its a new year and a new chapter in the adventure some call life. I'm back in town and back on the air and will be back to posting on a regular basis as soon as I can get my lazy ass in gear.

In fun news...I had my first white Christmas. And what better way to experience it than with family (although my Mom almost drove me nuts. Thank you Lil White Pills for keeping my head intact.).

J met us half way and brought me back home and then it snowed here! Me being the junkie I am dug out the torpedo disk and slid down the mountain in the dark. Fucking fun! Except J was freaking out yelling, "That's far/fast enough. Roll! Roll!"
She really doesn't like it when I do dangerous things.

So as one of New Years Resolutions, I figured I could try to stress her out a little less and keep my daredevil stunts to a minimum. But I can't stop completely and luckily, she understands this.

Well...soon to be back to your regularly scheduled program on the Life Of Times network!
Until then...

On the road again...

This face lift project for this blog isn't as simple as I thought it would be. It has been an endless search of something that I feel suits me. And right now...I do not have the time.

Tonight I pack to leave for Tennessee again. I am clueless as to how long I will be gone and thankfully I am at a point in my life where I don't have a job that I would have to rush back for. BUT...I do have J and she will be here in GA with her family. Last night, she made me promise that we will never spend another holiday apart. It was an easy promise to make. I hate this as much as she does. Thanksgiving and this Christmas are the first holidays since we've been together that we didn't spend together.

As far as posting here while I am gone, I don't think it will happen. Grandma has a computer but it is older than dirt and I have no patience with it. I tried when I was up there last month but it drove me nuts just waiting for it to boot up. I can hear someone mumbling how patience is a virtue but ha! It is a virtue that will forever escape my clutches.

When I do get back, we will probably be heading back out again. We were thinking of Times Square for New Year's but I think we decided against it. We decided to plan better for it next year and maybe head down to Savannah instead. If anyone else has a better suggestions on where to spend New Years, please tell.

I'm sure I will take tons of pictures and I will share what I can. Hey, and there is a good possibility that this will be my first white Christmas. *Crossing fingers*

Oh well.
So, Merry Christmas to all and if I don't make it back before it, Happy New Year too!

Meaningless?

I'm not a huge fan of Christmas. Now wait...before you rip my head off and roll it down the lane into ten elf pins...let me explain.

Its not that I don't enjoy giving people gifts and watching their surprise as they open them. Its not that I don't enjoy decking the house out with a zillion lights and causing blackouts across our little town. Its not that I don't love being with family and friends and singing Christmas songs as we cook and dance around the kitchen.

It IS because I don't like the commercial side of Christmas and the way kids think of it. And it is because Merry Christmas seems to have become bad words.

I wonder how many of today's kids even know what the meaning behind Christmas is. I bet they think that Christmas is just the day they get to get all kinds of gifts for being good throughout the year or something.
A few years ago, J and I and my family were all sitting around the tree and opening gifts from each other with my three little nieces. I love to see those girls smile, so happy, when they open gifts. But Jade, the oldest of the three, seemed a little...angry.
She had a pile of gifts beside her that dwarfed her and it seemed like she loved everything she got. So, I asked her what was wrong.
J and I always go overboard on the gifts. We will spend outrageous amounts of money on our family and friends. We just really love giving. I remember that year, the girls being older, we had bought each girl like five gifts or something like that. (You always have to give them the same amount of everything or one will get upset thinking you love the other more or something.) And they weren't just toys and clothes. It was educational stuff disguised as cool stuff. Laptop computers, real musical instruments and such.
Jade huffed and crossed her arms across her chest, giving me the dirtiest look.
"What is it?" I asked again.
In all seriousness she scowled and said, "This is it?" She signaled the huge - and I mean huge - pile of gifts beside her. "Last year, you and Aunt J bought us ten times more gifts." She really gave us hell for not giving her twenty gifts or more. J is still shocked at the way she reacted. Honestly, me too.
I blame her parents and my "material" mother. She never even thanked us.
So the next year, all three girls got artwork from me. Winnie the Pooh scenes to hang on their bedroom walls and that was it. I got scowled at for that too but now, they come to expect it from me. And until their parents teach them what Christmas is really about, that is all they will ever get from me and Aunt J.

The other day, we were in the local Walmart. We had a box of cereal and a gallon of milk as we walked up to the check out line. The nice woman rang us up and as she handed us our change, she smiled and said, "Merry Christmas."

I was stunned. I have not had a stranger say that to me in years. I smiled so big that it hurt and said, "Merry Christmas to you too."
When we got out to the car, J grabbed my hand and said, "I can't believe she said that. It was so cool."
I have to explain. Excluding this last year, we lived in South Florida. Ft. Lauderdale to be exact. No one...not a single person...says Merry Christmas down there. I swear, its like the words have become illegal. The words have become offensive. WTF? Right?
Now, I know that not everyone is Christian and such. Hell, I'm not even Christian...I'm Wiccan. But still...what the hell is wrong with saying Merry Christmas?
I talked with my mom last night. She absolutely loves Christmas. She will go get her nails done in a Christmas design. She has Christmas pins that she will wear every day in December. She even puts Christmas decorations in her cars. Her house is decked out with lights and figures all over the place. The inside is so decorated that you would think you walked into Santa's workshop or something. Get it...she loves the holiday.
On the phone, she was upset. The company she works for (a very well known company) had so many complaints two years ago about the Christmas tree and decorations they had in the lobby that, last year, they didn't even bother to decorate. Complaints! When I asked her who complained she said it was the melting pot of different religious people that she worked with. Yet, the company decorated all of these holidays but the only holiday they felt was offensive was Christmas. Crazy, huh.
Hopefully the company will decorate this year.

I guess really, Christmas just doesn't have the same meaning anymore and for that, I'm not a fan.

Holiday

Thanksgiving with my family was great. We all drove over to Gatlinburg and did the whole tourist thing. We ate at the Hardrock and then took a cable car thing up the mountain and a few of us took a lunge ride (on which Uncle T wrecked). We sampled fudge and bought T-shirts. It was a lot of fun.

We headed back to grandma's to help with all the holiday cooking.

Let me write a little about grandma's house. Its like funland. They have a huge room that used to be an over sized two car garage that they transformed into a game room. There's pool, skee ball, darts, and another game that I have no idea what the name is. And if you don't want to play, there is a huge flat screen tv and a kick ass stereo system to occupy your time. Honestly, no one can ever say they are bored at her house.

So in between cooking, we played pool. I got my ass kicked by every member of my family. But the house smelled great...ham, turkey, pumpkin pies...

It had been a very long time since that much of my family had been together for a holiday. And I think it was just what my family needed.

Solo Drive

There is just something about taking a solo road trip. Its something that I can't name...you just feel.

Granted, my road trip was only three hours long but I did drive through three states. I left Monday evening armed with my gun, GPS, guitar, and a CD case full of Joan Jett (really). There was a nervous goodbye as I settled in the car. J didn't want me to go but she understood why I felt I had to go.

See, Grandma isn't getting any younger. And she is only three hours away and I don't visit her as much as I should. I am the oldest of her grand children and one of her favorites. Yes, she has favorites. Me and my cousin Kurt. Maybe she shouldn't have favorites but really, we are the only two that would drop our lives and rush to her if she needed or just wanted us to. Cousin Mel is the only other grand kid that shows her any respect and the rest of my cousins...well, I have nothing nice to say so I will drop it there.

So I hopped in the car and loaded the CD player. I lit a smoke and waved to J as I drove down the driveway. I made a right onto the highway and rolled down the window yelling, "Tennessee here I come!"

There was no traffic and the weather was perfect. The sun was down behind the trees casting long shadows across the road and making me imagine that I was caught in a strobe light of sorts. The draft from the car in front of me picked up the dead leaves from the side of the road making it look like there were thousands of birds flying along just above the asphalt and I chased them with silly laughter, watching them in my mirror as they chased me too.

365 was vacant. The sky was the palest of blues tinted lightly with grays. I turned up "Do You Wanna Touch" and threw my fist out the window as I sang along screaming, "Yeah!" on cue. I took a deep breath of the clean air and watched as the mountains grew in front of me. Life is good, I thought.

About half way through my trip, the sun ducked down under the horizon. The mountains came to life with with lights from the hidden houses. It looked like space had opened up and swallowed the earth, turning everything into constellations of the living.

I almost didn't notice when I crossed into North Carolina. There was just so much to see. I must have driven this route at least a dozen times, but every time its different. Every time I see something I hadn't noticed before. A lighted cross on the top of a mountain. A new valley of lights. Colorful neon passing in a blur as I speed by.

My thoughts were scattered. I thought about the family I would see. Cousin Mel in from Alaska. I hadn't seen her in at least four years. Aunt C, Uncle T, and Kurt in from Florida. I hadn't seen them in at least a year. And all the rest of the family I would see.

J was never too far from my thoughts either. With Christmas around the corner, I went over the list in my head of all the things I wanted to give her. With that thought came the thought that we probably won't be together on Christmas...just like Thanksgiving. Our reasons for spending the holidays apart are the same. Her grandmother isn't getting any younger either.

The mountains got bigger the further away from home I got. And by the time I hit the Tennessee/North Carolina line, the massive beasts overwhelmed me. I've stood before the ocean, I've been so far out in the ocean that I could no longer see land, but it has never made me feel as small as the mountains do when they tower all around me.

My thoughts wandered and suddenly I felt like I was the tiny spec of dust on the leaf in the movie "Horton Hears A Who." (I think that was the name.) I was thinking about how space was infinite and really, if you want to drive yourself crazy, how we are just a spec of dust in it. Or something like that at least. Thankfully, my phone rang and snapped me out of all that.

I pulled up Grandma's driveway exactly three hours from the time I had left J standing on the front steps. No one was home yet (they were still thirty minutes away) so I got out of the car and leaned against the hood. I lingered in the silence as I stared at the infinite space above me littered with stars. Yeah...life is good, I thought. And as I grabbed my stuff from the trunk, I smiled. I was already looking forward to my solo drive home.

A little truth

I think I've finally gotten rid of my hangover. Finally. Now I remember why I hate drinking.

My friends over at the CLC have been doing their best to make me feel God-awful guilty about leaving them. There is more than a few reasons I left Florida and they know this but I guess an explanation is in order so anyone else can understand.

It is true...stress can kill. And my philosophy is when things are no longer easy, its time to find something new. Running a business from a cell phone that never -NEVER - stops ringing, ridiculous time restraints, traffic jams, and chasing money got to me. Things started to crumble and inside I was a wreck.

Its funny...when I was going through all that shit, my family and friends (not the CLC girls) still called me and unloaded all their problems. And the entire time, I was on the verge of a rageful relapse into the darkness I used to call life. And when I tried to explain, "Hey, you really think you have fucking problems? I've got overhead that weighs more than the world and a partner who has given up," they didn't seem to care.

Hell, I know I could have saved it all but I couldn't breathe anymore. I felt sick all the time and so tired but I could never sleep. My head was endless chatter of what needs to be done and what I really wanted to do. And in the end, I chose to do what I wanted to do...get out.

My family was driving me nuts, unloading all kinds of responsibilities on me that were never mine. My brother's drug problem, my mom's money situation, and my dad's absence all of a sudden became, "You have to do something, B." My nieces well being all of a sudden became, "They need a better home life...do something." And certain friends became my responsibility too. Those two in the morning phone calls like I was a suicide hot line became, "B, I'm in my truck and I'm driving straight for the wall at full speed and I know you can save me. Only you know what to say, do, think...and you will save me."

But I'm nobodies savior really. I couldn't deal. And the solutions I came up with, nobody listened to anyway. "Baker Act the fuck up." Or, "Tell your husband to stop wasting the money and to get a real job since he fucking pissed away your retirement on shit that he didn't want or need." And my nieces, God bless those beautiful little girls, "Leave him. Get a job. They are your kids too. Only you can make their life any better." And, "Stop fucking around with straight chicks! Dyke up already. You know they only break your heart."

And the end results. He is still an addict and a loser. He quit his job and now sits on the computer all day, jacking off to porn. (This one has partially worked out.) She got a job and left him but moved those girls into a house full of old drunk, drugged out sorry excuses for women. And she is still dating straight chicks and getting her heart broken. Its nil.

So I left and they chased me down through my phone. I shut off the phone and they chased me down on the computer. So I stopped checking my email. It is about time they all learned to live without me to step on, run to, expect a miracle from. It was all too much to ask for. I had a life, a house, a business, vehicles, a great relationship, and I let all that stress and pressure almost kill me. I walked out and away with the only thing I could salvage...my girl (and I almost lost that too.)

I'm finally back to good and there is no way in hell that I'm chancing what I have now. This is MY life now and I'm not going to show any of you how to live yours anymore. Live and learn...that's how everyone else does it. I know it all sounds selfish but dammit! I lived with all their shit all my fucking life. I know I deserve to be happy and healthy and to live without their problems.

(Dimes, baby. I love you and really this rant has nothing to do with what you said (its Starr). I love you and miss you like mad too. But really, guys...am I not better now? You really don't want me to go back to being the way I was before I left, do you? Starr...ease up on the guilt shit, please. I need to do this for me. For me and J. She is everything to me and you know that. You know where I'm at and you know that whenever you want you can jump on a plane and be here in less than three hours. You have the means to do that and I know you could bring all the girls if you wanted to. I miss you guys but I don't miss the life and I can't go back now. Ease up on the guilt and show me some understanding, please. And you are making me say it...or else.)

Germs: Stay away

The last twenty-four hours have been...cold, crazy busy, and a little on the "I don't wanna get sick" side.

We got a phone call -yesterday, I think. It was after we went to sleep Tuesday - from one of J's aunts at a little after 3am asking us if we could help take Granny to the hospital (she asked J but I couldn't let her go alone). Of course we both jumped up and rummaged for clothes, a little groggy but really, we had just went to sleep. We spent all freezing morning into mid afternoon at the hospital. Granny is going to be fine -she's sick with a bad cold- but they did keep her. Said she wasn't breathing too good. She should be out Friday.

(Yeah Starr...I was at the ER and it wasn't for me. Shocker, huh.)

J's other aunt -who would have been the one that took Granny to the ER- had to go to the doctor herself yesterday. Seems she has pneumonia.

Now I'm repeating this in my head: "I am healthy. My immune system is strong."

I really do not want to get sick. I did that pneumonia thing last year and it hurt like hell.

And due to my zombie-like coma yesterday, I owe this blog an extra post. So -fair warning- I will be back and maybe even with a Back Then post.

PS...another warning: Next week expect "Days of J" week. Its our ninth anniversary on the 30th. And yes, I will be explaining the "Mayonaise" song. It will be mushy!

The thinker

"They want me to be a breeder. Not a thinker. Not a leader." Otep Shamaya ~ Def Poetry Jam ~ From "Dedicated To My Enemy" (Video at the bottom)

I was tagged in one of those "All about me" questionnaires on Facebook. And that line above was part of one of my answers.

Well, that brought on all kinds of thoughts about my parents and the way I was raised.
They didn't raise me to be a breeder. They raised me to be an individual. They raised me to be independent. They raised me to make my own choices and live with the consequences. They raised me to be strong and wise, kind and generous, understanding and compassionate. Maybe I shouldn't say "they" because really, it was just my mom for the most part.
It is true, my dad wasn't the greatest of fathers. There are things that I will never be able to speak of and things that I wish I could forget.
But on the other hand, there are a few things that, when I think back, make me smile. Like going to the beach late at night with my parents. Dad and I digging in the sand, making tunnels. And when Dad signed me up for MX racing and told me not to tell Mom. And how he was so proud of me when I was asked to be on TM Race Team, earning my spot along side of the guys. And the day he brought me my first acoustic guitar. A full size red Palmer that I still have and is as good as new. And the day he gave me my first pieces of jewelry. A gold necklace with a crucifix charm and a St. Christopher charm, (just like his) that up until a few years ago, I wore everyday of my life.
When I decided to come out, I told him first. My reasoning was cold - I told him because he was my crash test dummy, so to speak. I didn't care if our relationship was ruined and he disowned me. His reaction would determine on whether or not I came out to anyone else.
And my mom. She might not have liked the fact that I was such a tomboy. She would cringe when I told her of things I did or was planning to do. You should have seen her face the day I came home telling her all about the monster size concrete pools I was skateboarding in, or when I told her that I cleared the doubles on my ATC with no hands, or when I told her about getting the Camaro under 11 seconds in the quarter mile. She hated it because of fear that I would be injured or worse - but she never told me I couldn't do it. She would just encourage me to do other things too. Like drawing and painting and writing. My first dream journals came from her. Or my music. My first electric guitar and practice amp (both I still have) came from her.

Neither one of them tried to force me into dresses. They didn't take away my Tonka toys and Hot Wheels and exchange them for Barbies. They didn't make me ride the pink bike with the girly bar. They loved me and let me be me - the person I am today.

I guess my point is...my parents (mom) didn't raise me to be a girl that was to grow up and be a housewife with 2.5 kids and commit/submit to a man that I would call my husband. They raised me to be what ever I wanted to be. They raised me to be a thinker, a leader, completely at ease and in support of my androgyny and my gender-bending-rule-breaking ways. They always supported my ideals...how a girl could do what a guy could do and, at times, even better and how I really COULD do anything. There was never "girls can't do that" or "why don't you play with dolls instead." There was never "I don't think you can or should."

I have my good days and my bad ones. Sometimes I'm contradicting. Maybe even hypocritical and ignorant, but that's okay. That just means I'm human.

No...I was lucky and I am thankful for this every single day. Because of this I am: an artist, a musician, a writer, a dreamer, a dare-devil risk taker, a fearless competitor, a speaker, a seeker, never a follower/always a leader, a friend, a listener, an adventurer, a partner, a lover, a fighter. I stand up for what I believe in. I am ME and I don't want to be YOU or anyone else.


Thanks for listening...

Sister

A quick message for my sister...the only family member I trust to read this. (Please pause the player and listen. Thanks.)

Because the words just aren't enough:




I love you...please go to the doctor...two months is too long.

Becoming

I just finished the book I was writing. It is such a great story and I really didn't want it to end but that is the beauty of being the author...I can make it live on for as long as I like, as long as I want. I think this one has a lot more to share. These characters just aren't finished yet.

Band talks have led to the conclusion that the search for a bassist isn't as important as the search for a drummer. I do play bass, its just not my instrument of choice. But, if necessary, I will play it until we can find someone to replace me. I'm fine with that.

Sometimes I wish I would have learned to play the drums. I still can I guess. But it is so hard to find a female drummer.

I went to middle school with this girl that was a drummer. She was madly into Def Leppard and I played guitar but was into Maiden, Metallica, Slayer, and such. We tried to jam a few times but it just didn't work out. I didn't know enough about my instrument to keep up with her. It would be nice if I could find her. She would be perfect for this band.

Other news...it is fucking FREEZING up here. And raining. I've been feeling a lot better since Starr was here but this shitty weather is threatening to make me postal.
There are haunted houses this weekend along with haunted corn mazes. And next weekend, more of the same. I love this shit. Then, Halloween, there are several parties we've been invited to. If it were up to me, we'd show up at them all. But the houses around here are so far apart that the drive wouldn't be worth it.

Next month, my cousin Mel will be in town, thawing out from living in Alaska. I'm really looking forward to seeing her.

You'd think, with all the excitement, it would be hard for me to sit still. Fucking weather.
So be it.

Yellow brick what?

I guess I do always sing. Hey, it keeps me sane. And FYI...me and J put some finishing touches on one of our new songs last night.

**APB**
Please be on the lookout for a female drummer and a female bassist that are somewhere close to Northeast Georgia. Tennessee, South Carolina, and North Carolina are all pretty close. We play rock, punk, metal type stuff with a little bit of folk thrown in to confuse you. Must get along well with us dykes and know their instrument. Rookies are welcome but if you can't keep up we will have to boot you. **APB**

We need to get something together quick if we are going to make the deadline. (Sorry, that part is secret.) We had a really good discussion about it last night and plans are being set in stone. (I know we've heard that before, but this time, it has to work out.)

We decided that since I'm taking over vocals and we already have two guitarists, that singing is all I will do. For now at least. Freak is still an unknown since we can't find her AGAIN. God, I love that kid but she needs to keep a damn phone!

Sometimes...I can't believe I'm doing this again. But...the world, especially mine, would stop without music.
So be it!

On to other stuff...
I would like to declare war on who ever is responsible for bringing this damn OXY drug to pharmacies across America. I would like to tell them that their drug is killing my brother. He is beyond making choices now, he is just plain addicted. And its killing me. So, yeah...a big FUCK YOU to all that are responsible. And another FUCK YOU to the idiot doctors that keep prescribing the shit to him. How do you people live with yourselves? God this sucks!

Am not the Doctor

I got a call (really it was a beep beep on my nextel...nextel sucks) early (10:30...hey its early for me) this morning from my mom. Seems my brother and his wife are on the outs again and mom wants me to play doctor and fix him since he is all bent out of shape.

I guess this time it is serious because he somehow caught her with another guy. Not in bed or anything, just hanging out and talking. So sister-in-law had already told bro that she didn't want to be with him anymore. The guy just put icing on the cake I guess.

Well, step-dad thinks that there is a conspiracy. See, he thinks that sister-in-law is trying to push my brother into hitting or hurting her so she can have him arrested and take his car. It is possible...you would have to know sister-in-laws mother. She is worse than white trash. Even her own mother says so.

Confused yet?

The point: I've been trying to talk to my brother for three days. He won't answer the phone. Today, I got him on step-dad's beep beep nextel and he was short and sweet saying that he wanted to rest and that he would call me later tonight. It's 10:30 and I'm pretty sure he's not going to call.

There's only one reason that he would refuse to talk to me and/or avoid talking to me. He has relapsed AGAIN!!! I'm pretty sure of this and step-dad says he knows bro is back on oxy. This. Really. Sucks.

Its all making me wonder if sister-in-law is really leaving my brother because she no longer loves him or because she knows he's back on the pills. She won't take my call either.

Too much to ask for and I am not the doctor!

Or am I? But how can I help them if they won't talk to me?
I tried to tell my mom that they really need to work this out themselves because its not my business. Of course, she wouldn't hear me. I told step-dad the same thing and he didn't listen either.

My conclusion...I love my brother. I love my sister-in-law. And if they want me to be a mediator, they'll call. No need for me to chase them down. But I would like a word or two with my brother because if he is back on the pills, I need him to know that I am done trying to help him with anything. (His addiction has been going on for over ten years.) I'm tired of watching him kill him self.

BTW...J is home and she is safe, just like I thought.

Delicate Life

Forget all about all those things I said I would be posting about (even though I never explained what they were) because I need to write a little bit about my sister.

In mid June of 1987, my dad and his wife (not my mom) rushed to the hospital. His wife was having complications with her pregnancy. I, the oldest of us all at the young age of 11, was left to watch my younger brother and my two younger step-sisters. We were scared because we knew that if the baby came on that night, she would be almost two months early.

Step-mom was real sick and they decided to keep her in the hospital. Finally, at the end of June, our sister was born. She was small but the doctors said she was a fighter...if they only knew how true their words were. We got to see pictures because the doctors had to keep her for a while. Dad said that because we were her sisters and brother, that we would get to name the newest member of our family.

We all wrote down a series of names...one favorite was Shit Head (dad's contribution)...and gave the list to Dad. He took it to the hospital and step-mom read over the list. She picked one and Dad agreed. They called us up to tell us the news. I was more than shocked to find out that they picked the name I had wrote. More than that, I was kind of honored.

So Lisa got to come home about a month later. She was strong and beautiful and Dad said she looked just like me. She was the coolest thing to all of us kids. We spent the entire rest of the summer in the house watching her constantly. We were afraid that if we left her side, we would miss a cool new sound or facial expression she would make.

But then, summer ended and me and bro had to go back home to Mom's and go back to school. We rarely got to see her after that. Christmas and a few weekends here and there. And every time we did see her, it seemed that she had grown so much more than the time we saw her last.

Newborn was suddenly 4. I was tangled in my out of control life and my brother was entering the gang scene. Lisa would call our house and if we weren't there, she would talk to our mom. Whether it was us or Mom, the conversation was always the same. Lisa would tell us how she always had a stomach ache, how she would get sick, and how she would fall down a lot.

We had known that Dad had been taking her to the doctor for these problems but the doctors were stumped. Six months and countless "lets try this" remedies and she was still sick and seemed to be getting worse. Finally, one doctor got smart and sent her for a brain scan.

Everything went in fast forward from there. She was rushed to the best children's hospital in Florida, Miami Children's Hospital, because she was in need of emergency surgery to remove a tumor in her four year old little head that was the size of a grapefruit. Yes...that big.

Mom drove Bro and I down there because we had to give blood in case...just in case they needed it.
The surgery took hours but it seemed like days but sometime in the middle of the night, the doctors walked in to the waiting room where our entire family...I mean everyone...waited on the edge of our seats.

The surgery was a success, he said, and they got the entire tumor removed. We had to wait for the tests to find out if it was cancer. But then he said something that I don't think any of us believed. "She might not know who you are when you see her. She will have to learn to talk and walk again and there is a possibility that she might never do either ever again. She's not going to be the same."

Bullshit, I thought. Not my little sister. She's a fighter and she's strong. You'll see, I told the doctor. I think he brushed me off thinking I was just some crazy teenager with a bad attitude and a loud mouth. But I knew my sister...he had no idea.

Bro and I and many of our family members spent three weeks in that waiting room. We slept there, ate there, and took drive-by-trucker baths in the sinks. The outcome was that there was no cancer, and we were relieved, but she still wasn't awake long enough to see what the effects of the surgery were.

Lisa loved to hear me sing. Her favorite song for me to sing was "Sweet Child of Mine," by Guns and Roses. So when it was my turn to sit with her during the day, I would sit there holding her little hand and sing it to her until I couldn't sing anymore.

I had just finished the song for the fourth time and was taking a break because my throat was sore. I started to get up and let go of her hand but she gripped my fingers so hard it almost brought me to my knees. "Again," she demanded. "Again."

Its hard to sing when you are crying but I pulled it off and when I finished she sat up in her bed and said, "I want a Big Mac."
She had the entire room laughing through their tears as she demanded all these silly things from all of us. She was a little mean but cute as hell. And I turned around and smiled at that doctor. "I told you."

Except for the shaved head and the new strength (from steroids they had to give her for the swelling), you would have never known there was ever anything wrong with her. When they finally let her go home, she would call me from time to time and make me sing so she could fall asleep. Her hair grew back and it covered the scars. She was back to her normal self in the blink of an eye.

Lisa just turned 22. She's married and has a beautiful daughter who turned one this year. Dad says she is just like me in so many ways that we should have been twins. Yeah, I'm proud of that. She calls me every chance she gets and we have our song that thankfully she no longer makes me sing (at least not every time we talk) but we do laugh about it. I'm proud of her and everything she has accomplished her life so far. Most of all, I'm proud to say she's my sister.

And when she calls me and says, "I'm so sorry to call you up and just vent." I tell her, "Don't worry about it. That's what sisters are for." I'll laugh and then she'll tell me, "You are the only one who can make me feel better, the only one I can talk to about this world of complications that I call life."

And I tell her, "I will always be here for you, no matter what. Even if its just to sing you that damn song."
She'll say, "See, I feel better already."

This is the message she sent me on facebook after I had missed her call and wrote to her giving her my new cell number: "Love you and miss you too...I hope all is well. I hope to talk to you soon...I really need my sister to talk to right now. TTYL"

And after we talked she sent this: "Thanks...I am glad that I got to hear you. It has been so long since I spoke to you. I just felt better being able to talk to you. Thanks again....Love you."

I thank God everyday that my little sister, the one I almost lost at the young age of four, is able to call me up and unload her problems whenever she needs to...even if I have to sing that damn song.

Life is too short...Live it, dream it, BE IT!

Done with home

I think I'll sum up the rest of my Florida trip tonight.

Mom was looking much better than the last time I saw her. She looked a little thinner but not unhealthy. It pained me to find out she was taking medications for her nerves and to sleep. But, staying at her house with her husband and my brother, I understand why she has to take them.

When my brother got out of jail and came back to her house, the entire vibe of the house changed. For some reason, it seems our step father has some kind of deep hate for my brother. I don't really get it but I never realized how bad it was until I was living with it. Honestly, I'm surprised my mom's not an alcoholic.

Anyhow, I was glad to be there. I now know what my brother has been trying to tell me for the last year. Step dad isn't the "great guy" he tried to trick us all into believing he was.

So me and my brother tried to keep Mom out of the house and away from his negative rampages. We took her to Border's and relaxed. We went shopping with her at the mall. We spent time with just her and it seemed to make her more at ease.

Sadly, I fear for my Mom's life. It feels kind of silly typing that out but I have to say it somewhere. The scary part is that my brother feels the same way. When I found that out, I had to say something to Mom. I think it upset her that we felt that way. She explained that she wasn't upset with me and Bud, but that she was upset that her husband made us feel that way. But then she said that she is in no way afraid of her husband. I have to just trust that for now. But I made my brother promise that if he ever saw step dad get crazy that he would make Mom leave. Fuck the house and the cars, her life is much more important.

Dad has proved that...well, he really isn't much of a dad. I was finally able to get him to hang out with us one night. We (me, Bud, KC and her husband) met up with him at a bar that he usually plays darts at. He was cool, bought us all drinks, and then kicked in with telling us all about the things that he's been doing with his new family. Usually, I don't mind listening, but watching my brothers face fill with pain sucked. It felt like Dad was rubbing it all in my bro's face. All the things that my brother wanted to do with Dad and Dad never showed up for, Dad is now doing with his youngest two kids. Simple things like fishing, camping, sports and such. I was waiting for my brother to explode on our dad. It must have taken Bud a lot of will power to keep from shoving Dad's cell phone down his throat.

Anyway, I wanted to see my step mom and two younger siblings before I left Florida. Since I was unable to drive (surgery) I told Dad to just come and pick me up one weekend or something. Well, it came down to the last night I was in town and I called. He said he'd pick me up. I waited, and waited, and waited...like usual. I was shocked when he finally did call (he usually just doesn't show and calls a few weeks later). Same old excuses and I pretty much said whatever. Typical Dad.

So I didn't get to see my youngest brother and sister. I didn't get to see my other sister either but that was because she lived three hours north of where I was and wasn't able to take a day off of work. I didn't bother trying to see my aunt and uncle (for reasons I won't bother to explain.)

But like I said before...I got to see and hang out with the people that count.
Mom
Bro
My nieces
KC
BM
My God-daughter and her brother
And the girls from the CLC!
I love all of you and miss you like mad.

Family time

I think I finally caught up on all the blogs I've been reading. It only took me five days...hmph.


One of the best things about my Florida trip was being able to take my mom and two nieces to Sea World. It was a trip of firsts for my nieces. Their first road trip without their parents. Their first time staying at a hotel. And the most important first...their first time at Sea World. And I got to be a part of that.

The trip started off a little bumpy. Silly got sick after a dinner stop at Cracker Barrel. So, instead of a three hour drive, it ended up being a six hour drive. But everything turned towards good when we got to the hotel. Honestly, it was one of the nicest hotels I've ever stayed at.



We were on the eighth floor and Silly and Boo ran to the window to look out over the city lights and were speechless when they saw Sea World below. Yeah, the hotel was right in front of the place. After a round of showers and a million questions about what they would see the next day, the girls finally fell asleep.


The alarm went off early. Silly was out of bed and dressed for the day but Boo was a little slower. She's actually a little grumpy in the morning. She must get that from my bro. We skipped a sit down breakfast and opted for the breakfast bars mom supplied as we waited for the bus that would take us to the park. The girls were on the edge of their seats and I think I was just as excited knowing that they were going to have a great day with the ocean life they had been learning about in school.



Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed on the new roller coaster, Manta, or any of the other rides at Sea World. My recent surgery and the boot on my leg hindered my adrenaline fix. I tried to convince Mom to take the girls on at least one of the coasters but there was no way in hell. But she did take them on some of the kiddie rides. (Shhh...but I think she had more fun on those rides than the girls.)






We got to pet the dolphins and stingrays. We walked through the shark tunnel (Silly's fave). Checked out the penguins and the girls got splashed by Shamu. We watched some cool shows and the girls learned the difference between a penguin and a puffin. We had a great time and it didn't rain on us until right before we left.









Memorable snapshots:
Silly's face on the giant crab ride.
Mom riding a giant Dori fish on the carousel and the smile on her face that I haven't seen in years.
Boo, when the fish in the stingray petting area splashed her.



The look of shock when the ice cold water that Shamu splashed on the girls soaked them completely. Boo actually stood and started to run.


Eating lunch and listening to the girls talk about how much fun they were having.
But the trophy goes to.....an amazing stress free day for my family filled with smiles and laughter.

When we got back to the hotel, the girls went swimming...pretending to be the sea life they had met earlier that day. Then we had a great dinner at the hotel restaurant. To complete the great day, we watched Sea World's firework show from our hotel window. Really cool.