Two Red Books

I went to Books A Million last night with Sally and we spent some of our $50 gift certificates that we each got for Christmas from Tanya. Gabe said that he wanted to know what books I bought when I went shopping so here they are:

The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
Don Quixote by Miguel De Cervantes

I think I'm about to start reading Don Quixote. I've never read it before, but from what I heard from Sally and what I read on the little blurb thing on the inside of the book, it's about a 16th century Spanish knight and his squire. The knight is supposed to be crazy as a loon, so I'm looking forward to reading it. I'm sure it will be interesting. The other book, The Red Tent, is a fictional story about a lesser known woman from the Bible called Dinah. I think she was Rachel's sister, but don't quote me on that.


Incredibly Sysiphian

I feel:: drained
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: Over the Rhine~B.P.D.

1. Isaiah 48:6-11

Isa 48:6 You've heard these words. Now look at all this. Won't you admit it? From now on I will reveal to you new things, hidden things that you do not know.
Isa 48:7 They are created now, not in the past. You haven't heard about them before today, so you can't say that you already knew about them.
Isa 48:8 You have never heard about them. You have never known about them. Your ears have never been open to hear them before. I know that you've acted very treacherously and that you have been called a rebel since you were born.
Isa 48:9 For my name's sake I'll be patient. For my glory's sake I'll hold my anger back from you, rather than destroy you.
Isa 48:10 I have refined you, but not like silver. I have tested you in the furnace of suffering.
Isa 48:11 I am doing this for myself, only for myself. Why should my name be dishonored? I will not give my glory to anyone else.

2. Matthew 4:1-11

Mat 4:1 Then the Spirit led Jesus into the desert to be tempted by the devil.
Mat 4:2 Jesus did not eat anything for 40 days and 40 nights. At the end of that time, he was hungry.
Mat 4:3 The tempter came to him and said, "If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become loaves of bread."
Mat 4:4 Jesus answered, "Scripture says, 'A person cannot live on bread alone but on every word that God speaks.'"
Mat 4:5 Then the devil took him into the holy city and had him stand on the highest part of the temple.
Mat 4:6 He said to Jesus, "If you are the Son of God, jump! Scripture says, 'He will put his angels in charge of you. They will carry you in their hands so that you never hit your foot against a rock.'"
Mat 4:7 Jesus said to him, "Again, Scripture says, 'Never tempt the Lord your God.'"
Mat 4:8 Once more the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms in the world and their glory.
Mat 4:9 The devil said to him, "I will give you all this if you will bow down and worship me."
Mat 4:10 Jesus said to him, "Go away, Satan! Scripture says, 'Worship the Lord your God and serve only him.'"
Mat 4:11 Then the devil left him, and angels came to take care of him.

I put my phone on vibrate last night when Sally, Tanya, Tanya's mom, Sarah and I went to see the concert of the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. When I got home this morning sometime around 1:30am, I left my phone in my purse. I haven't touched it since until I got it out this morning at about 9:30am. I plugged it in to charge and it was sitting on the arm of my chair in which I was sitting reading these Scriptures. It rang one of the rings that I have it set for when there is an unknown caller id. I was irritated because I had just sat down to read so I pressed a button and stopped the ringing. About 2 minutes later, it rang again and again the caller id said,"Unknown". I was more irritated. So, I waited until it stopped ringing and went to put it on vibrate. It was already on vibrate. So, why did it ring?

I had a major spiritual thing during the Trans-Siberian Orchestra show last night. I felt like I was the only person in the sold out Alltel Arena. I tried to hold them back, but my tears were falling freely and there was nothing I could do to stop them. I wasn't hysterically crying. I was pretty calm, actually, but inside my heart was bursting. I felt like if I didn't cry, I would explode. I prayed like I haven't prayed in ages. I confessed things that were in my heart that I didn't even know were there. I felt God there with me and all around me. I had an extremely private moment with God in the midst of thousands of people. How weird is that? Granted, I was high on emotion and the adrenaline of the experience, but I still feel God with me this morning and I haven't felt so peaceful since I can't remember when. My most earnest prayer was that this new humility (which could only have come from God because I'm not humble. I pretend to be, but in my heart I'm not. Thank God, he is the only one who knows what is truly in my heart. If anyone else knew, I would have no friends.) would be enduring and that the seed that was planted last night would not be picked up by passing "crows" or washed away by the rain that will surely come. It always does. It's raining now, as a matter of fact. My most fervent prayer was that the seed planted last night would take root and grow within me to produce a new person. A person who loves God; a person who knows God; a person who reflects God. God, in his mercy, ( it didn't feel like mercy last night, but more like conviction) showed me a glimpse of the big picture of the last 10 years of my life. What a futile life I have been leading. I told Sally last night that I feel like I don't have any fight left in me; that I am an empty shell of a person. It's no wonder I feel that way because for the last 10 years (at least), I have been living my life under my own strength. I used to consider myself a strong person. No more. I can't even deal with the most mundane things of life. I can't be in crowds without panicking and having to hold on to someone. That was proved without a doubt last night as we were leaving the concert and we were in the press of the crowd. I had a death grip on Sally's arm. I can't deal with the most simple classes at school without freaking out. I can't have a healthy relationship with a man because I am so insecure. It's no wonder that one of my biggest fears is that I'll be alone for the rest of my life and when I am an old woman (assuming I make it that far), there will be no one to take care of me; no one who loves me. I am at the proverbial bottom of the well here and I have nothing else to do except grab hold of God, who has always been there. I'm convinced of that. It's me that, in my pridefulness and rebelliousness, refused to let God be my strength. I thought I could do everything on my own, because I'm a strong, independent woman. I'm not strong. I'm weak. I'm beyond weak. I'm incapable. I need God to be the strength for me to just get through my life day to day; more than that- minute by minute- since my mood swings are almost continuous and I feel like every day is a mine field that I have to negotiate. (Note to self: Ask God where the mines are. )

"Insert witty subject line here"

I feel:: crazy
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: something by Trans-Siberian Orchestra

Ever get a glimpse of the big picture and realize just how much of a dumbass you really are? I am that dumbass and more. Foolish, stubborn, angry, rebellious, selfish, empty, insecure.........

I need the voices in my head to stop talking to me so I can hear myself think. I feel like I'm going crazy. One of these days I'm going to be in a padded cell with a straight jacket on sitting a puddle of my own filth.


Turkey Day Pt. 2

I feel:: uncomfortable
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: Buena Vista Social Club~El Cuarto de Tula

I was going to write another long story about Thanksgiving with my Aunt Carol and all of her friends, but I haven't been feeling very creative since I wrote that last post. What was memorable about the day itself for me was that, besides my mother, I was the only straight person present. Let's see. Who all was there? Carol's ex-girlfriend, Lori ,who is very butch, Sicilian and from New Jersey, (she turned out to be really cool) along with her new girlfriend Vivian, who was very femme. They brought Irene, who once had a long-term relationship with my Aunt. Irene is from Chile and I just love her to death. I knew that they had arrived because as I was standing in the kitchen, I heard cries of, "THE DYKES ARE HERE! THE DYKES ARE HERE!" I looked around to the surprised faces of the Queens (self-described) who had previously arrived. There was Jason, who Carol said was some kind of a gozillionaire and brought all the food already cooked (except the turkey of course. He cooked that there.). Pat, who was 65 and his new boyfriend, Joshua, who was 35. Sugardaddy, anyone? Joshua told me across the kitchen table that he had never been around lesbians before and this comment happened to be within earshot of Vivian, who immediately came over to him and repeated what he had just said to the entire company, put her arm around him and said,"We're going to break you in real good!" After which, all Jason could say was, "Vodka?" Almost immediately after Jason's uncomfortable moment, came my uncomfortable moment. I stood up from the table to get something to drink from the refrigerator and my Aunt says, loudly, "Dolly Parton ain't got nothing on you, sweetheart! That flat-chested bitch!" After that comment, everyone duly stared at my boobs. Then, my mom chimed in,"And hers are real!" Yay.
We finally had dinner after much setting up of the table. Everything was very formal. Carol had large, golden plates on which we put white, china plates that were designed with ripples (like waves) around the outside edges and which were trimmed in gold. I'm sure the gold was at least 24 carat. Carol then told me to open her decorative chest which was in the foyer and get out the crystal water glasses which were engraved with our family crest. Then, I was told to retrieve the wine glasses which had similar ripples on them as the china and were also trimmed in gold along the rims. Then came time to fold the linen napkins and put them into their specific napkin holders. All of the napkin holders weren't the same. Everyone had a different design. After this, my job was to make name plates on little white cards and insert them into little silver holders and then to place them on the table. Finally, we got to eat. Carol broke down crying during dinner and said that she had never had such a good Thanksgiving. It was touching.

After everyone had left, we all settled down and I had to lay down because my cysts in my right breast were hurting pretty badly due to all the caffeine I had had since I had arrived at Carol's a couple of days before (I have Fibrocystic Breast Disease). I couldn't really even sleep, I just laid there and held my breast as the pain washed over me in waves. Several hours later, I emerged from the bedroom and discovered that I was hungry, so I went to the kitchen to see if I could find some Thanksgiving leftovers. Carol was sitting at the table with her Vodka being pretty quiet. I fixed myself some food and sat down at the table and began to eat. Carol started talking about my mother and how she never had believed my mother's claim that their father had molested her until she saw it with her own eyes. Then, she went into a story about her grandfather Bolick, my great-grandfather, trying to molest her. She then told me about how he had molested my grandmother all of her life until she married my grandfather along with another story about how my grandmother almost shot her father out in the front yard.(She should be a writer. She's really detailed and descriptive.) All the while, I'm sitting across from her, shaking. I had stopped eating because I felt like I was going to vomit. My hands kept fluttering over the carvings on the incredibly ornate table legs. I was having trouble looking at her. She didn't seem to notice my distress, though. She then proceeded to quiz me about what makes me depressed and wanted to know what the worst thing my mother had ever done to me. Then, she wanted to know what the worst thing was that my dad had ever done to me. At this point, I was having trouble breathing, and blurted out, "DaddyboymolestedmetooexcusemeI'mhavingapanicattack." As I was walking away from the table, I heard her say,"I hope it's not from what we've been talking about." I made it to the bedroom where my mother and I were staying and I just leaned on the wall and hyperventilated. I guess my mom heard me from Carol's office because she came in a few minutes later and wanted to know what was wrong. All I could manage to say was that Carol had been talking about Daddyboy. I think my mom guessed the rest. She got me some water and one of my Klonopin and I shakily took it. (My hands are sweating profusely right now, so much so that I have to keep wiping them on a towel and I can feel that my heart rate is faster than it was a few minutes ago.) I sat on the bed and cried, shook and just generally was panicky, then Carol came to the doorway and said, guiltily, "Am I welcome in here?" She immediately came over to me and hugged me tightly and apologized and told me that she would never hurt me and that she didn't mean to hurt me by talking about what she did. So, in that way, everything was finally ok. Both of them left the bedroom after a little while and I laid down, then my phone rang. It was Stephen. The first thing he said was, "Happy Thanksgiving. I'm really stuffed." I don't remember what I said, probably a very weak,"Happy Thankgiving", but he asked me what was wrong and I told him that I had just finished crying. He wanted to know why, so I just told him. He asked,"Where is your grandfather now?" I told him that he was dead. Stephen said, forcefully,"Good." I can't describe how thankful I am that he called at that particular moment. We didn't talk very long, but I felt so much more peaceful after I talked to him.

My mom told me later that when Carol gets really drunk, she gets really morbid and can be scary. I thought,"Note to self: Never talk to Carol when she's been drinking all day again."
Well, I wasn't going to write a long story, but I guess I fibbed a little.


A very gay Turkey day Pt. 1

I feel:: sleepy

I left for Houston on the morning of the 22nd to spend Thanksgiving with my aunt Carol, my mother's baby sister. I got directions from Mapquest which took me to Dallas (what the hell kind of directions are those?) and then over and down to Houston. It took us about 8 or 9 hours to get to Houston, but Carol doesn't live in Houston. She lives in Katy, which is about 30 minutes down a tollway (which I thankfully avoided through my getting lost).We wound up in Tomball, which is about 45 minutes away from Katy. I had to stop several times to get directions, because, like a dumbass, I didn't think to bring an actual map. So, in Tomball, I spied a Wal-Mart. I thought,"Wal-Marts have maps, right?" I parked the car and left mom waiting while I went in. I accosted the first person I saw who happened to work in the jewelry dept. about the possible whereabouts of a map of Texas, or more specifically, Houston and it's outlying areas. She looked at me like I had just requested directions to Heaven. (I was going to say Bum-fuck Egypt, but every Southerner already knows where that is.) So, she pawned me off on another lady who worked in the jewelry department. Wow, she gave really good directions and thank God I know some Spanish because we wouldn't have been able to communicate otherwise. I walked back to the car holding my sheet of directions like I had just found buried treasure. I was so tired at that point and also my mom was seriously grinding my last nerve, so I would have done anything short of dancing naked in the street to get correct directions. I called Carol and all she could say was,"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN TOMBALL?" So, I managed to calm her down somewhat and explain to her about the directions I had just received. She demanded that I tell her in detail what the directions were, so I did, then she calmed down some more. I know this because the cursing stopped. Well, we finally managed to make it to Katy and got lost again. Carol's directions,"Take W. Little York until you see Deep South Road, go left and then drive until you see Tobacco Road. You are not more than 4 minutes away from my house. Oh and by the way, you'll know where Deep South is because they are building a gas station at that intersection." So, I drove and drove and drove and finally wound up at the very ass end of W. Little York. I couldn't drive forward anymore because that was where the street literally ended. I turned around and drove to the other end of the same street all the while looking for the mysterious and allusive Deep South Road. I called Carol again and told her that we were lost. Another round of cursing,"HOW THE HELL CAN YOU BE LOST? I JUST GAVE YOU DIRECTIONS!". So, she gave us different directions and we tried those with no luck. Keep in mind, all the while I'm trying in vain to find unlit street signs in the dark traveling at about 40 miles an hour in order to keep up with the traffic around me, my mother is in full-on bitch mode. My eye was twitching constantly and for those of you who know me, you know that that means I'm so about to click and turn homicidal. I finally got tired of looking for non-existent street signs in the dark with my mother bitching constantly and I was extremely tired after driving 9 hours straight. So, I just pulled over into the nearest gas station and told my mom to call Carol and tell her to come get us. I pulled in right beside this traveling taco stand. It had painted on it's side in bright colors "Taqueria Viajando Para Servir Ud." I kept staring at that sign and at the little man painted beside the text with his hat on. It sort of calmed me. But what was weird is that all of the sudden I burst out with,"Living tacos? Oh, no that says Traveling tacos." (My mom: looking at me like I'm on crack. Vivir=to live Viajar=to travel. I hope you can understand why at that particular moment, I was a bit confused.) As we sat in my car and waited on Carol to find us, my mom kept nattering on about nothing in particular and I found myself digging dark red rows in my right arm with the nails of my other hand. My mom stopped her buzzing/talking for a minute to ask me if I was alright. Without looking at her and still digging in my arm, I said,"I'm fine." She touched my shoulder then and I looked at her and realized what I had been doing to my arm, stopped, and forced a smiled at her and said again, "I'm fine." She then resumed her buzz-talking. (That's what it sounded like to me, just a constant, irritating buzz. Like a moquito that flies around your ear that you can't kill, but you keep slapping yourself anyway in the vain thought that you might get lucky and smash it into your ear or some other part of your face. Gross, I know, but it stops the buzzing.) In response to her nattering, I turned up the cd that was in the player really loud. Not only that, but I began to sing along with it. I noticed that she stopped talking. I breathed an inward sigh of relief. (Gosh, I'm pretty passive-agressive, aren't I?) Finally, Carol pulled into the parking lot of the gas station where we were waiting with her Beagle, Trevor, hanging his head out of the passenger side window. I followed her back down W. Little York. She turned left right at the corner where a Shell station was (Note I said,"where a Shell station was", not "where a Shell station was being built"). I looked behind me at the street sign (which was facing the opposite direction from where we were) and noticed finally that we had found Deep South Road.

We finally pulled into Carol's driveway. My mother and Carol disappeared into the house. I thought,"So, I guess I get to unload all the luggage by myself?" That was fun. We got settled in and the first thing I did was take a Klonopin. A whole one. We were all sitting at the kitchen table where my mom was telling Carol what a trooper I was for driving all that long distance by myself and how stressed out she thought I was. (You know that kind of conversation where you're present, but the people in the room talk about you like you're not?) About 30 minutes later, and after my Klonopin had kicked in and I was feeling blessedly anxiety-free, Carol asked me if I wanted to take a jacuzzi bath. Who am I to pass up such a thing? I got my towels, my cd player and headed for the bathroom. I had to wait a bit for the water to fill the jacuzzi, but when I got in, ....there are no words. I stayed in the jacuzzi for about half an hour singing and just taking a little swim. After which, I put my night clothes on and fell into bed. I can tell you that never in my life have I ever felt so relaxed. When my mom came in later to go to bed (we were staying in the same room), she took one of my huggy pillows away and I didn't even notice, although, I did wake up sometime in the wee hours of the morning wondering where it was and, grumbling, retrieved it. I talked to Gabe the next day and told him about the Colonopin/jacuzzi experience and my resultant condition. His response was,"I think that's about the closest to Heaven you could get."