Post Secret Pic 'O The Day

Sally and Tanya. I can feel them slipping away from me. Avoiding me. The other day they wanted to come over; I told them not to, but they did anyway. Before that, I had a complete breakdown over the phone talking to Sally over her not calling me on Christmas Day. She kept saying, "I was busy with family things." I wanted to say, "Am I not your family, too?" I also told her that it hurt my feelings that I didn't hear from Tanya on Christmas Day either, but when Tanya got here, she hugged me and told me that it hurt her feelings too that I didn't call her on Christmas Day.

As long as we've been friends (10 years), I don't think Sally has ever seen me break down like that. I was completely hysterical and having one hell of a panic attack. Even after I got off the phone with her, I couldn't stop crying and I had to really concentrate in order to get my breathing back to something that resembled normal.

I think there's two reasons this happened: One is because I've been reliving the last rape for the entire Christmas season, so that makes me more sensitive, more emotional and more depressed than I would otherwise be since the last rape happened right before or right after Christmas. Completely ruined Christmas and New Year's for me. The second thing is that on some level I really know that Sally and Tanya are slipping from me and the harder I try to hold on to them, the more they slip. I know they don't want to be around me because I'm having such a problem with my depression. I can imagine with their disorders, hanging around me doesn't make them feel very good. I look on them as my sisters. I've taken them into my heart and they are just as much, or more, a part of my family as my own family. It seems that it's not the case with them, though. I'm not pointing fingers here. I'm just saying.

It's kind of a big shock to find out that people you love don't love you as much as you thought they did. I guess that was part of the problem and it probably wouldn't have sent me off the Cliff of Hysterical Crying if it hadn't happened during the Holidays. Still, though, I can feel our friendship changing and it scares me. For the longest time, even if I felt no one else loved me, I knew they did. Now, I'm not sure and I feel like I've just been shoved out of a warm and toasty house with food and a fire into a blizzard and I'm standing at the door banging on it, but they either don't hear me or they do and don't want to let me in.

I don't know what to do or if there is even anything to do.

Rudolph The Red-Nosed Gangster Had A Very Shiny Gun...

This video is crazy. They've got Robyn (a postie for PayPerPost), going out on this scavenger hunt for different kinds of pictures and videos to win $1000 dollars in cash and all this HP Digital Photo Printing gear. It was -9 degrees Farenheit in Chicago the day they did it. Oh my gosh, coldcoldcoldcold. At least they were running around all the time. Literally. They were running practically all the time.

My favorite part is where a stranger approaches Robyn and the team and asks, "What are you guys filming?" Then she asks, "Will you sing me a Christmas carol?" He sings Rudolph The Red-Nosed Gangster. Absolutely hysterical.

I think I might be willing to participate in a Postie Patrol for a chance to win cash and HP gear. I don't know, though, if I'm as crazy as Ted.

This post is sponsored by HP.

Pimp My Album Cover

Oh my God....I can't breathe. This was the first thing I saw upon getting settled into my bigcomfychair with my coffee this morning. Oh hell man, I'm still crying from looking at those. All thanks to Incurable Hippie for hooking me up with that link. Girl, let me tell you something: I don't know where you find these links you do, but everytime I go to your blog I wind up smiling/laughing.

Some of my faves:











































Jesus.

'Tis The Season For Digging Yourself A Hole You Can't Get Out Of

I spend so much money on Christmas gifts. I'm picky about what I buy. I'm one of those people who have to wander around every store until I find something that screams at me, "This is for...!" I can't explain how I know this, but I just do. I don't put it down to spiritual things or psychic things. It's just a thing I do.

I used to have credit cards, but I got myself into trouble with them because, for me, buying with a credit card didn't feel like I was spending real money. I guess because no actual money was given from my hand to whichever sales person I was purchasing whatever gift. That's my main problem and why I don't have credit cards any more. When my credit card debts got so out of control that I was starting to freak out, I tried to apply for one of those credit cards that offers 0% balance transfers and I was approved, amazingly. The problem was that I not only transferred all my balances over to that card, I also shopped with it, which sort of made the whole balance transfer thing pointless. I had more debt than I started out with. I have an impulse control problem. What can I say?

Now, I get all sorts of credit card offers in the mail practically screaming at me with their large bold type, "YOU ARE PRE-APPROVED!" God, you know, that is so tempting to me and sometimes I save them and compare credit cards (All the ones I get now have totally exorbitant interest rates. Even still, I'm tempted.). Again, credit cards, in my little twisted mind, do not equal spending real money, so when I've got all this stuff laid out tempting me to just call a number or go to a website because I'm "pre-approved", it's so, so hard not to give in.

I have one card now that has credit on it and I haven't used that credit in at least 6 or 8 months. This Christmas, I had no money to buy anyone any kind of gifts and I was really tempted to use that card to buy them presents because it's important to me even though the whole "Holiday Season" thing is really hard for me. I guess presents somehow make it better. I don't know. I just know I like to give them. I didn't use that credit, though. Thank God, because I have no way to pay the payments that would come just as surely as the next sunrise. I hate having debts I can't pay. You know, creditors can be as stubborn and persistent as a 2-year-old begging for a cookie.

This post is paid for by Card Guide and sponsored by PayPerPost.

~Untitled- 6th October 2004~

Since I completely broke down last night, being caught off-guard by the tsunami of emotions that come this time of year on me like some sort of giant leech which sucks not blood, but all of the hope I thought I had, out of me. I feel it's appropriate to relate this poem I wrote of the fourth and (so far) last time I was raped. Since this was the impetus behind all of my sadness and depression this Christmas season. I tried desperately to make the blows glance off of me and to shoot them at those around me, but y'all know that never works. I realized through a crying jag on Christmas Day (it took me 10 years), that the reason I hate Christmas is because the last rape was either right before or right after Christmas (I can't pin down the exact date in my head. I can't remember it. I just know that about a week or so after that it was New Year's 1997.). So, I have let it spoil and infest everything about Christmas that I once loved and I hate myself for it. More than that, I hate the man who raped me. My faith tells me that I'm supposed to forgive those who hurt me "70 times 7", in other words infinitessimally. I'm supposed to pray for those who hurt me. The Scripture says that if a person doesn't forgive another who has hurt them then the Father in Heaven will not forgive your sins. Can a person forgive another person for what they did, but still hate them? I don't know if forgiveness and hate can go hand-in-hand. Hate the sin, but not the sinner? I hate both. At least with him.

Anyway, enough of me not being able to get over myself right now. It's making my head hurt. Here's my poem (Just in case anyone was wondering I didn't write it right after the rape. It took several years for me to even realize that I had been raped. Some part of me even still thinks it was my fault even though, logically, I know it wasn't. Feelings overwhelm rationality sometimes.):

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's raining

RainingRainRain go away
come again some other day.

It's raining
but the sky is clear
My face is wet
Rain of tears

Am I really here?


Have I just...?

Mirror, Mirror in the car
who is the greatest slut of all?

YOU ARE
YOU ARE
YOU ARE

No I'm not!
I have to pray
a lot
Can't think of what to pray for...
RenounceRepentCry

Why is it still raining?

He said I was beautiful
through the closed door of the bathroom
while I was sitting on the toilet.

That's when it started raining.
And I started to shake as I watched myself in the mirror.
Events replayed
Did I consent?
Why didn't I scream?
Why didn't I struggle?

He said I was beautiful.
He chanted something
while he was inside me

But he said I was beautiful.

Why am I bleeding Why am I so dizzy?
I have to get out of here
but he's standing at the door


"Feelin' Frisky?"


I can't think ---------straight.
I have to go Is this my car Where am I going?

TO CONDEMNATION THAT'S WHERE

Oh God
God whydidyouletthishappentome?

I can't even tell anyone
I tried to ask for prayer but all they said:

If you are having a hard time it's because you've sinned.


YES.
I've sinned.
I'm a sinner.
And I'm still bleeding from it.
He's a sinner too.


And God pulls the strings like the Great Puppetmaster He is.



© Robyn Fenner
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeepers Creepers Where'd Y'Get Those Peepers?

I love to take pictures. I especially like to look at/take pictures of really old buildings downtown and barns and houses out here where I live that are just so old that they are falling down. There's just something beautiful about those things to me. I don't go out and photograph the things I love to see often enough. So, I was thinking about entering this 2006 Photograph of the Year contest. There's $14,000 dollars in prizes to win. I really don't care if I win, though. Honestly. If I enter, the main reason would be just to get myself out of my house, go places and photograph interesting things and sometimes people. Old buildings tend to interest me more than people. I don't know why that is. Just a matter of taste, I suppose. Like some painters paint bodies (Degas and his dancers) and some painters paint other things (Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night).

I've seen photographs of everthing that could ever possibly be imagined to be photographed. I went to an art exhibition once and saw a set of photos of toilet seats. Is it art? I don't know, but I guess someone thought it was. So, I figure if someone can take pictures of toilets and have them be put on exhibition and make money from them, I can take pictures of falling down buildings and have it be proclaimed "art" as well. Art is in the eye of the beholder. Right?

It seems like it's a worthy contest if anyone else wants to enter. And who cares if you win? Granted $14,000 dollar's worth of prizes is a lot to get. It would be great to win, but I think the most important thing is that we get out and take the time to look at the beautiful things around us that we pass by every day and never notice because we're too busy being too busy.

Here's the info on it if anyone wants to know more about it. I'm kind of excited about going out and taking bunches of pictures.



This post is paid for by PhotographyCorner.com and sponsored by PayPerPost.

I Wonder If Jesus Did His Own Laundry?

In case y'all haven't noticed (how could you not?), I've redesigned my blog. Not the main text parts, but the background, header and footers. I'm not sure if I'll leave it this way. A part of me says it's way too loud and busy and then another part of me thinks that I like it that way. It's hard sometimes to find that fine line between something artful and pretty vs. something that's just a big-'ole-mess. Anyway, I hope it doesn't burn anyone's eyes.

I got the urge to change it yesterday, but I was just too tired. I'm getting the urge to change a lot of things lately. Yesterday, I rearranged my bookshelf again (only part of it this time). I pulled out all of my Psych. books and put them on my desk and in the process totally rearranged my desk. Now I'm thinking about a possible storage possibility under my desk for mine and my dad's innumerable records. See, I don't have a chair that goes with my desk. I don't really need one since my comp. is a laptop. I don't study there either. It's more like a decoration there to hold my printer, books, candles and other whatnots. Isn't that terribly non-utilitarian of me? I've never liked to study at desks, though. For me, they're more like a pretty piece of furniture. Like an armoir or something. (And my desk is gorgeous, by the way. It's solid wood with aged iron accents. There's not a nail one in my desk. It's all built by fitting wood pieces together. I love my desk.)

Anyway, it's Christmas Day and I'm relieved because I didn't have to go to the pretendfamilyget-together last night. I called Dad after he was already over there and told him that I just couldn't bear to go and he said, surprisingly, "That's ok. You don't have to come." What a relief. And wow. I figured I'd get the superduperguilttrip. But nothing like that happened. I feel like a big furry, smothering, clawing bear has been rolled off of me.

Wanna know what I did last night, Christmas Eve? Laundry. And I hadn't felt so calm and satisfied in a good while.

So, now that I'm at least temporarily over myself I can do this:

The Best Defense Is A Good Offense-So Says Wolverine

As a woman, I feel that I am ruled by my fear. I'm afraid of going places alone. I'm afraid of going places at night alone. My fear is based on rationality, though, I think. I survived the 10-year incest by my grandfather; physical, mental, and verbal abuse by my parents; 4 rapes and numerous abusive relationships with men.

I have always wanted to learn how to protect myself. There's a certain amount of protection you can learn mentally. You know, like they say to "have a tough skin", so to speak. My skin is not-so-tough, though, despite all that's happened. I still feel vulnerable. Mentally and physically.

Whenever I pass a martial arts learning center, or come across martial arts books in the bookstores that I frequent often, I'm so tempted to either sign up for lessons or buy all the books that bookstore has on physical self-defense.

Imagine what it would be like to walk around unafraid. God, that would be the ultimate freedom for me.

Many of my friends collect martial arts equipment like medieval swords, throwing stars, and have training swords to practice their swordplay. Of course, you know, these are all guys. When I see them practicing, I want so much to say, "Can you teach me that?", but I get embarrassed to ask. I guess that's part of society's unconscious message to women-that we shouldn't do "manly" things, that we should be soft and vulnerable.

I love martial arts movies. The good ones, that is. The latest one I saw was Jet Li's Fearless. I love that movie. That's a definite buy when it comes out on DVD. I also bought Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon when it came out. I haven't seen many of the Bruce Lee movies, but I know he's the Godfather of martial arts in the movies.

I don't want to be soft and vulnerable any more. I want to be strong and physically able. I want to be able to defend myself.

After the last rape, I spent a lot of years being mad at God for letting that happen to me and then, just a few months ago, I wrote about it on another blog I have and one of my friends said (I'm paraphrasing here.) that if God had stopped that guy from raping me, he would have been interferring with his free will and, by consequence, my free will and everyone else's as well. We are not automatons. We have the free will to choose what we want to do. With that in mind, there's no guarantee that I won't be raped again. There's no guarantee that I won't get into a relationship with a man whom I think is great and then turns out to be physically abusive.

I want to learn to defend myself. And in that process, learn to be more confident in myself. I think that would be a big step for me. I think it would mean a step outside of this fear in which I've cocooned myself.

This post is paid for by Extremely-Sharp.com and sponsored by PayPerPost.

Collec-A-Check

I just signed up with Google Adsense. I'm sort of hesitant about placing blatant ads on my blog. One part of me says, "That's selling out" and then the other part says, "You dummy, you already do post for PayPerPost and get paid for that". The thing is that when I see a buttload of ads on other blogs it just irritates me. I've seen some that just overwhelm the whole page and it's like I'm asking myself, "What is this blog about?". It just gets annoying sometimes and I definitely don't want to be annoying.

I am an "artsy fartsy" type person and whatever I do, I want it to be as beautiful as I think it can be and the hippie in me (I get this from being raised in my early years by my mother.) balks at getting paid to do anything creative. Creativity should flow freely, like air, but a girl's gottagetta paycheck. Y'know? So, I am, and have been looking for ways to make money off my two blogs here on Blogger. I want them to be as unobstrusive as possible-as un-annoying as possible. Regarding the PayPerPost posts, I try to make them fit into my blog as much as possible and I try to be creative with them as much as I can.

I hate commercials and I don't want either of my blogs to become one long, blatant commercially-driven irritation.

Nonsensically Speaking...

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Her Royal Highness Anias Nin the Insubstantial of Old Tonbridge Wafers Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Ha!


Fitting.

Post Secret Pic of the Day

Self-explanatory.

Roses Are Black, Violets Are...Blue?

I know I'm pimpin' PayPerPost today, but I just can't help it. I finally found a way to work smart instead of work hard. I can't tell y'all how much that means to me.

Anyway, PayPerPost has a blog that y'all might want to check out. It recounts the day-to-day events, opinions and whatnot of the different employees of PayPerPost. As far as I can tell, any employee of PayPerPost can post on the blog. For those of us who blog and who like to read blogs, it might prove an interesting read.

One of the employees,X, posted about getting a black rose in a box on her desk one day. It was a complete surprise. The rose was black because the company that sent it specializes in sending roses that are cut and then dried and sent when they achieve the right color. I particularly liked this post, because every rose I've ever gotten I've dried and saved. I have them all over in vases and various pots. I think they're beautiful and they serve to remind me of how fragile everything about me and about life is, but yet how beautiful it can be even when it's decaying.

So, go read it.

This is a paid post sponsored by PayPerPost

The Matrix Has Me.

I just put in my VHS copy of The Matrix. The only copy I have. Tell me I'm not old-school. Go ahead. I still have my Atari console and the games. The Pong console, too.

Anyway, I was just thinking that it's so funny-weird how certain movies/songs/places bring back such clear memories. When I got this movie, it was a Christmas present. I was living in my most favorite apartment I've ever had in downtown Little Rock two blocks away from the Governor's Mansion. The building I lived in had been built in 1929. There are only 4 apartments in it. Each one bedroom/bath. Each 1,000 sq. ft. and each $395.00 per month. It came with the cable, trash and water paid and in the basement there was a washer and a dryer that all of us tennants could use for free. They weren't the coin-operated kind. I loved that apartment. The floors were the original wood, the windows had the original glass. It had the original crown molding around the ceiling and not like the new kind that looks like crap, but the kind they made in 1929 that was meant to hang pictures on from wires so that you wouldn't have to bang holes in the wall with nails. The ceilings were about 12 or 13 ft. high and there were lots and lots of tall windows. I think 6 in the living room alone, 3 in the dining room and 5 or 6 in my bedroom. If I had the chance and the means, I would move back into that apartment without a second thought. That was the first time in my life that I actually lived in an apartment that I liked, not just one I could afford. It was one I could afford and one that I liked. I knew it the moment I saw it. I told the real estate guy the minute we walked in, before I'd even seen the rest of the apartment, "I'm going to live here". He said something I didn't quite hear about checking my credit and all, but you know I wasn't paying any attention to him. I was so excited. Again, the first time I've ever been excited about moving into an apartment.

I know it may not seem like a big deal to some, but it was a big deal to me. A very big deal. I only got to live there a year because I made the mistake of taking in a pregnant, homeless stripper named Jessica. After she had her baby, which she put up for adoption, she wanted to move into an apartment we could both live in. To be roomates. She didn't want to continue sleeping on the couch despite the fact that I totally supported her throughout the last trimester of her pregnancy. I even got her a dream job through my connections with some people at the, then, Excelsior Hotel (very posh).

I'm just sitting here watching this movie and having such memories and smells. I can see every detail of that apartment and the building, the buildings around it, the neighborhood and even which parts of the sidewalk were cracked and which were not.

I miss living there, but I learned an important lesson in the taking in of Jessica. I'm not meant to help everyone who crosses my path. Like when Jesus went to the pool of water that was supposed to heal people. All the lepers went there and put themselves or had someone put them in the water in the hopes that they would be healed. But out of all the people there that day, Jesus only healed one person. At first glance, it seems cruel that he could heal them all but didn't. The thing I learned and was convinced that it was what God had wanted me to learn from all of that hell with Jessica, is that you only do what God has planned for you. You can't help God as far as furthering his plans or speeding up his work. Naturally, anyone with even a smidge of a soft heart would want to help everyone they could who needed it. The thing is that not everyone wants help and it's not meant for me to help everyone. Just the people that God has planned for me to help. God put Jessica in my life at least for that reason. I don't know what other things may come of it because I don't talk to her anymore since she went to prison. She lives not too far from me, but I really don't want to get back into her life and I don't think she wants to know me anymore either. I loved her. A part of me still does, but there are certain people I think, that you have to love from a distance just because they are so toxic. I hope she's ok, though. I really, really want only her happiness.

Funny how a little thing like some film wound around two spools inside a VHS tape can bring back all those memories.

RockStartUp Episode #3

This is the 3rd installment of the RockStartUp reality show that PayPerPost is doing. It shows them moving out of a smallish, cramped office into a new and spacious one. Ted, the BMOC (Big Man On Campus) directs all the moving aspects, but actually only moves his own office. The rest of the employees move everything else and clean the seemingly endless dust off of the new furniture and other things around their new office-home. Ted seems affable enough, but does seem to spend most of his time trying to get other people to conform to his schedule. He's kind of like the "I want it done yesterday" kind of guy. It stresses him out. I can tell. This episode is actually mostly about Ted with the employees sort of in the background. I would personally like to see more of the employees. They seem more laid back than Ted does, not to say that I don't think he's a likeable guy. Like I said before, he seems affable enough. I think he might need some calming tea (decaf of course) or maybe some aromatherapy?

This is a paid post sponsored by PayPerPost

Empty Heart Is As Empty Glass

It's really hard for me to drive by the brightly lit houses with their Christmas trees sitting in windows like a beacon of happiness I can never reach. It makes me feel so empty. On the outside looking in at contentment that I'll never have. Logically, I know that no one's life is perfect, but at times like that, it's hard to remind myself of that. I get no pleasure anymore from those houses that are lit up and decorated. I would rather not see them. It would enable me to keep this pain in my strongbox where it belongs. I guess the strongbox has some cracks, though, because the pain keeps leaking out no matter how tightly I secure and lock it.

I'm not looking forward to going to my aunt's house (my dad's sister) tomorrow night for Christmas Eve dinner. Not only will there be tons of shit there I can't eat (Celiac Disease), which will make me feel like some sort of diseased freak, but also playing family makes me feel so empty. It drains the hope in my heart just as surely as one can poke a hole in a can of soda and watch it pour out. I know they don't love me, but I desperately want them to. They don't understand me and make no effort to and I desperately want them to. I've tried to understand them and to show them that I love them, but my efforts only get me unresponsiveness. Kind of like trying to grab air. It's just not there.

Last Thanksgiving, I spent in Houston with my aunt Carol (my mom's sister). I drove down there with my mom. Even though my mom got on my everlasting nerve while on the 12 hour drive, Carol was shitfaced drunk most of the time and I had flashbacks of my grandfather molesting me, I felt more accepted and understood there than I do here. I met all of my aunt's closest friends, who were amazing. I remember thinking to myself, "It would be easy for me to love these people" and I can say with some certainty that I think they would love me back. I think my mom and I were the only straight people at Thanksgiving dinner. It didn't bother me in the least, though, because I felt accepted and understood and despite the fact that my aunt Carol is a raging alcoholic, I know that she loves me.

God, I hate the Holidays.

Safe Flight, Y'all

~Untitled-9th September 1999~

Alone..............




Alone





Why am I always







Alone?



When someone is near
I want them to be away
When they are away..........

People are such fragile and contemptuous creatures
Can't trust
might get hurt else
can't love
don't know how
don't

know
what

love

really
means

So many people with broken hearts [me]
that they can't mend [me]
Suffering with insecurities [me]
accosted by the violence
of being alone amongst millions.
© Robyn Fenner

Wordless Wednesday

Viva Las Vegas

I've been hearing on the news and on the internet that Las Vegas is the fastest growing city in America right now. I can imagine that the real estate market out there is having a huge boom. Honestly, I don't know if I'd ever want to live in Las Vegas. I mean, it's in the middle of the freakin' desert. Too hot. It gets really hot here in Arkansas and even with the oppressive humidity we have here, the heat doesn't hold a candle to the triple digit numbers Las Vegas hits in the summer. I can imagine that, if I were to live there, I would spend a fortune just for air conditioning. God forbid there was a power outage. Ever.

Still, I don't know about y'all, but whenever I've thought of Las Vegas, I've not thought of people actually living there. Logically, though, I know they must because of the enormous number of casinos. I'm sure there is more to Las Vegas than casinos, but that's the first thing that comes to my mind. I'm sure there are some nice residential areas there, though. I haven't seen much in the way of designs of houses out there, but from what I have seen, they seem to be built mainly of light-colored brick. I suppose that's a good thing, since the light color would reflect the sunlight, keeping the house cooler. I don't think there are many trees out there. (Another reason I couldn't live there. I adore trees. Old ones. The ones whose trunks you couldn't even begin to get your arms around.)I hope that they are making them entirely out of brick and not just putting up one layer of it over the basic structure of the house (that's how mine is) because if not, the brick would be of little value it seems to me. Bricks tend to stay cool, if they are not directly facing the sun, so if there were several layers of bricks on a house, even though the outer ones would absorb the heat, the inner ones would stay cool; thereby reducing the overall cooling bill.

I don't know the first thing about house-building, though, so all of what I'm saying might be totally ridiculous. I suppose if one had the superman-of-all-insulation installed in one's house, then it wouldn't really matter what it was made of. Again, though, I don't know.

There are people who love to live in the desert. There is a certain calm-but-dangerous beauty about it. I've seen pictures of some beautiful flowers that grow only in the desert. Also, there are great mountain ranges close to Las Vegas and ,of course, the Hoover Dam is out that way. So, I guess it wouldn't be so bad living there. Just not my first choice. I'm weird like that, I prefer the old over the new. My dream house would probably be at least 100 years old. As I sit here typing this out, I am smacked in the face with the reality of my hypocrisy. I live in a subdivision that is only about 8-10 years old. My house is only 5 years old. There are no trees in my subdivision and it's really hot in Arkansas. It seems as though the world prefers the new over the old, ergo the population boom in Las Vegas. It seems like everything out there is shiny and new.

And hot.


EDIT:I was thinking about what I said about the whole building houses with bricks thing to keep the inside cool and then I thought about some of the restaurants I've been to that have "brick fired ovens" and the fact that I saw a show the other day about an old prison that had what they called a "hotbox" that they put prisoners in for solitary confinement punishment. Some of them got roasted alive in there because the heat would get up to 120 degrees Farenheit. It was made of brick.

I think I was thinking stone instead of brick.

Anxiety Overload

I'm not feeling too well today. I woke up at 6am from a dream about my mom and was led to believe by the Holy Spirit that I needed to pray for her. Then, like an iron fist, fear took a grip on my heart and wouldn't let go. I prayed for about an hour-and-a-half while going about my morning activities making coffee and whatnot. I slept only about 2 hours because of the pain in my hips, so I don't know how coherent my prayers were, but I know God knows my heart and what I want to say before I say it. At around 7:30am, I could stand it no longer-the anxiety, the not knowing if anything was wrong or not-so I called her. She was asleep. I felt bad for waking her up. The first thing I said was, "Are you ok?". She said she was, then I told her about my dream. So, I felt better after I knew she was ok.

After I got off the phone with her, I intended to go back to bed, but for some reason, I was wide awake. I think I wound up going back to bed at about 11am. I woke up around 2:30pm. My hips were still hurting when I went back to sleep this morning, but I guess I was just so exhausted from the little amount of sleep I have been getting lately, that I just collapsed.

I really can't stand this pain every day, all day, all night. And it's not just my hips, the pain starts actually in my back, then goes to my hips, then all the way down my right leg. Sometimes, it's both legs. That really sucks, let me tell you. I'm also convinced that all of this is why I've been getting like 3 to 4 migraines a week. As we used to say in high school, "I'm to' up from the flo' up!" I don't know if I've mentioned it or not, but I did make a dr. appt. to go and see just what the hell this is all about, but it's not until Jan 16. That was the first opening they had. I'm really scared that this is going to be all about my scoliosis. That it's gotten a lot worse than I think it has. I'm afraid of the pain. Any time I get treated for my scoliosis, there is a bunch of pain involved what with physical therapy and all (physical torture). I'm just scared. Again, there's the not knowing what is wrong with me that is causing me anxiety. It's kind of weird how even when things turn out to be worse than you think, you feel somehow better because at least you know. The not knowing part I hate.

I guess that's what is really my problem today and why I feel all the time like I'm standing on the cliff of Hysterical Crying ready to jump off. I want to be numb and it's taking a lot of willpower right this minute for me not to down a bunch of my Klonopin. The reason I haven't done it and I think the reason I won't is because I remember when I was overdosing on it before and how it made me feel. It didn't make me numb. It made me feel worse. That's when the cutting began. It's been just over a month since my last cutting incident. I also feel like I could binge a truckload, but then I'd just purge it. I hate vomiting. And I'm getting more and more scared to eat what I want because I don't want to put any more weight on my body than it is already carrying because I don't want the pain in my hips, back and the headaches to get worse. I can't imagine how it could be worse, but I'm sure it could. My friend, Renita, used to get migraines so bad that she would bang her head into the wall repeatedly because she said it relieved the pain somewhat. That it wasn't as painful as the migraine. I'm not to that point with the headaches. Thank God.

I don't know what to do. Pray, I suppose. I'm hating life right now.

I also think I'm premenstrual. (I don't keep track of my periods. I don't have sex. I see no reason to.) Sometimes, like my spine, God can be really twisted.

Dedicated To Nostalgia?

I'm so not good at sending Christmas cards. I love to buy them, because some of them are so funny and cute. I just never get around to sending them. I have piles and piles of them in a storage bin in the garage. I don't know if it's just that I'm lazy or if it's that I can't get into the Christmas "thing" because Christmas holds so many bad memories for me.

I have some friends, though, that will send out Christmas cards every year come what may. That's their thing and they get very upset when something gets in the way of their Christmas-card-sending. I've been trying to convince those die-hard snail-mail sending Christmas card friends that sometimes, in a pinch, they can send free Christmas cards by email. If If I were going to send out a bunch of Christmas cards, that's what I would do. It saves on trees getting cut down to make the paper for the cards and stamps and the money for postage. It also saves time, not that I'm that busy, but there have been times in my life when I have been really busy with work and when I'm in school, there's just no extra time to do anything-just schoolwork.

The link I put above goes to the blog for Egreetings.com, where people like us can get free ecards to send to our friends.

These are some of the cards on the Top 10 List:





I love A Christmas Story. It's one of the few Christmas traditions I have. I fall apart laughing every time I watch it even though I've seen it umpteen times. It's my favorite Christmas movie.



This one is a parody of the movie Snakes On A Plane and is called Snakes On A Sleigh. I've never seen that movie, but I've seen some parodies of it and most of them are just hysterically funny.

There is a link to a card about farting Reindeer that made me laugh out loud. That one has to be my favorite, but then I always laugh at the gross stuff. Just click on the link and you'll see what I mean.

We also can sign up for a trial membership to try out these eCards and the services of Egreetings. According to the blog, you can schedule cards to be sent way ahead of time so that they will arrive just on the day you want. If we like the services of Egreetings, a yearly subscription is $13.99. Pretty cheap if, like some of my friends, you send out a truckload of Christmas cards every year.

Post Secret Pic of the Day

I have a friend to whom I wish I could tell this and have her really understand that I could never be disappointed in her. God, I love her so much. I don't care what she does or says. It doesn't matter to me. I know her heart and that's what I love. That's her. What's in her heart. I love her completely and yet she doesn't love herself at all. I just want to tell her, "Don't be afraid" and, "Please tell me how I can help you when you need it" and, "Please be honest with me, all I want is your happiness". I don't know when or if she will ever understand these things, but I keep praying that she will. I don't want her to die not knowing that she is loved so much.

Artemisia Gentileschi

When I took an Art History class early in my college career, there was a moment of clarity and excitement when I was introduced to the work of Artemisia Gentileschi. I was captured by the images she painted so long ago. Even outside of class I found myself going to the library sniffing out books about her and trying to find out about her life.

Not only is her work unbelievable, but also, she managed to do it in 17th century Europe (She lived mainly in Italy, where she was born, but traveled a great deal throughout Europe.). This was a time when women had no rights at all. The world was run by men and women were considered the property of their husbands. It's amazing to me that she had the moxy to achieve all that she did. She was a strong woman-an amazing woman-and that is what I love best about her.

Here is an example of her artwork:



This one happens to be my favorite work of hers. Perhaps because it was the first one I saw and in that moment of captivation it imprinted itself on my mind, but regardless, it's amazing. She mastered the art of chiaroscuro, which is basically making the figures in the paintings seem lit of their own accord-as if they materialized out of the darkness in the background. I love this effect. My favorite thing about Baroque Art.

Some say that the violence depicted in this picture was a sort of psychological revenge against the tutor her father, Orazio Gentileschi, had hired to further her painting. His name was Agostino Tassi. Her father did this because I'm sure he could see her talent and she was denied attendance to the all-male professional academies of art simply because she was a woman. Tassi raped her and then reneged on his promise of marriage causing Artemisia to be put through unspeakable tortures. The thought at the time being that if a person's story remains the same under unbearable torture then the truth of their claim is verified. Pretty twisted thinking, but she survived it and not only survived, but flourished as a painter. Traveling all over Europe and gaining the respect of her all-male peers and some crowned heads of Europe. Notably, Charles I, King of England, was pretty much obsessed with her.

As a survivor of multiple rapes, I've adopted her as my personal heroine. She is an example of a strong, beautiful woman who flourished in her milieu despite the circumstances surrounding her and the terrible crime that was foisted on her. I wish I had a fingernail's amount of her courage.

Lastly, here is a self-portrait she did (I don't know if there are others, but I can imagine that there must be.):



If y'all want to know more about this amazing woman go here or, to this really cool site that has info and examples of paintings not only from Artemisia, but also tons of other artists: Art In The Picture.com. If you love art like I do, or even if you don't know anything about art this site is well worth your time. Last night (actually early this morning), I spent at least an hour poking around on it. I have it bookmarked and I'm definitely going to be going back there to poke my nose into the lives and art of some other painters I know and the ones I don't know. I feel like a kid in a candy store.

Roomie 'O The Week

NOTICE: I have a new renter this week: The Evolution of Gina.

She's a kind of philosoper-type person. It seems as though she is really interested in furthering herself and that she is open to new ideas. All-in-all, she seems really cool.

Her site looks great with pictures of herself across the top of the header as playing cards and the red, red roses in the background I just love.

Y'all go see her.


Here are the others who bid to be my renter this week. Again, y'all I'm so sorry that I can only choose one. Please keep bidding.

Quartz Mountain Communications
Info. Lots of it. Go check it out.

Forever 17
Ha! I wish I still looked like I did at 17! I'm glad I have the knowledge and been through the things I have, though. Also, high school was a bitch. Nevertheless, she's worth a good look if only to remind ourselves of what it was like to actually be 17.

Precious Distraction
Also a great blog. To be quite honest, I had trouble choosing between Gina and this one. I like them both. So please bid again and I'll pimp you out royally.

Just Out Of Reach

All my life I've had to watch my money spending, as I'm sure most of the rest of you have. It's hard. There have been times where I have had to decide, "Groceries? Or light bill?" It's really tempting to live off credit cards because, wow, they make it so easy, but when it comes time to pay those credit card bills I'm again asking the question to myself, "Groceries? Light bill? Or credit card bill?" That's how I get myself into trouble, because when I use a credit card it doesn't really feel to me like I'm spending real money and I can convince myself that I really can pay for it later. The capacity for me to deceive myself is incalculable.

Also, now that I've started school, I have had to get secured loans, which I'm going to have to start paying off the minute I graduate since I consolidated them last year to avoid having a higher interest rate. The trade off was that I had to give up my 6-month grace period. Right now, I have around $63,000 dollars in loans. I feel like I'm going to be paying these off for the rest of my life.

One of my big wants/goals is to buy a house of my own. I was riding around the other day (because that's just something I do sometimes to relieve stress) in various neighborhoods looking at houses and I came upon one that I just fell in love with. Wow. It had a real front porch. It was small, but I don't need something big. It had a nice sized back yard with trees and there were even trees in the front yard. Also, it was set upon a hill, which I like because I'm terrified of flooding. Not that it's ever happened to me, but still, better safe than sorry. Right? At the rate I'm going, though I don't know how I'll ever qualify to get a mortgage for my dream house. I don't want to live in apartments for the rest of my life. I've got to start making some money and learn to better manage my finances or I will, first of all never be able to afford the mortgage much less qualify for it, and secondly, I won't be able to afford the home insurance I'll definitely need.

I'm no good at keeping my savings account either. I have a problem with impulse control when it comes to money, that's why I don't have checks. I got arrested once for bouncing a check that was for like 10.00 and had to spend several hours in the drunk tank with the rest of the derelicts. I don't want that to happen again.

Just thinking about this puts me in a state of anxiety. Most of the time, I try not to think about these kinds of things, but you know, my dad won't be around forever and once he dies (God forbid) this house will be sold to pay for his outstanding debts. I won't get to live here. I'll have to move into an apartment. Like I said before, my capacity to deceive myself is extra-ordinary. I can convince myself, most of the time, that dad is going to live forever and that I'll just be here with him for the rest of my life. One has to face the truth eventually, though. What is really hardest for me to get over is that I don't feel like I'm 36. I still feel like I'm 18 (only in my mind), but my body never fails to remind me otherwise.

Hey! I Can Do That!

I don't know if you guys have seen this or not, but it was my first time to today. It's a video that is part of Dove's campaignforrealbeauty. It shows a normal looking woman going from herself, to someone who looks nothing like herself. Evidently she was in the make up chair for 10 hours. Then, she was photoshopped. Take a look for yourself.

Are You S.A.D.?

I've been hearing a lot about Winter Depression (or S.A.D-Seasonal Affective Disorder) recently. I even studied it in my Abnormal Psych. class. Basically, it's when a person gets depressed or more depressed in the winter than they do any other time of the year. Psychologists and Psychiatrists aren't really sure what brings about S.A.D., but they think it has to do with the fact that the days get shorter and there's less light from the sun to be had in the winter than in any other of the other seasons. They reason that light, especially sunlight, is one of the factors for a person's well-being emotionally and mentally. I can see where they would think that. I mean, if you've ever known someone who is a complete shut-in, or just doesn't go out of the house for a couple of weeks at a time (I can raise my hand here.), you know that they are depressed. They may not know it because they're used to being in that condition, but every Psychologist/Psychiatrist I've ever met/counseled with says that going outisde-getting out of the house and actually doing something on a regular basis is one of the deterrents of depression.

I never thought of myself as suffering from S.A.D., but I was thinking about it just now and I realized that it's in the winter-time when my eating disorders hit me the hardest. I tend to lose 20-30 pounds every winter and then gain it back when the weather starts getting warm (just in time for swimsuits *sigh*). So, I guess I do suffer from S.A.D. in a way. I have been diagnosed with chronic severe depression, so it's hard for me to determine sometimes when it gets worse you know? I can tell when I'm feeling better, but how do you classify levels of chronic severe depression? I wouldn't have the first idea.

Unfortunately, there are many more people who suffer from S.A.D. It's my opinion that it not only has to do with the limited sunlight because of the shorter days, but also because winter means the Holidays. This is the time when the suicide rate skyrockets. More people commit suicide right before, during, and right after the Holidays than any other time of year.

So, let's talk about treatment for S.A.D. Some Psychologists and Psychiatrists recommend S.A.D. Lamps, which are supposed to make up for the light lost during the dark winter months. According to your Psychologist's/Psychiatrist's suggestion, you spend a certain amount of time per day under the S.A.D Lamp. I know it sounds sort of hokey, but you know what? It really works. There is published research that shows S.A.D. Lamp Therapy really works.

In the complicated world of Psychoanalysis, it seems like something so simple as sitting under a lamp for time every day would seem ludicrous, but when I think of that, I think of what my grandmother used to say to me all the time, "K.I.S.S-Keep It Simple Stupid." She said this in love to me because she recognized in me even at a young age that I had a tendency to make things harder and more complicated than they had to be. The longer I study Psychology, the more I think that most people in that field have those tendencies to make things more complicated than they have to be. For instance, I've read some Psychology books that were so wordy it made me think that the author got paid by the word. The simplest research is the research that is easiest to follow and the easiest to reproduce and sometimes, if you're lucky, produces the greatest results. That's what I think, anyway.

...And I Wasn't Even High. I Swear.

I've spoken before about the fact that I have Celiac Disease and on top of that I'm allergice to wheat as well. So, wheat products are basically toxic for me. That said, I was looking around the house earlier for something sweet to eat. Y'know you all get those cravings. Don't deny it. You know who you are.

Standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open and not really thinking anything, I spotted this bowl of ready make cheesecake filling I had bought the last time I went shopping. It's just the filling-no crust involved, which is perfect for me because I love cheesecake. (Yeah, I have the dairy thing to watch out for as well, but it's not nearly as severe as the wheat thing. I freakin' love dairy products. Well, except cow's milk. I've been drinking soy milk for so long now that I can't even stand the smell of it. It always smells sour to me no matter how fresh the bottle says it is.) I pulled the bowl out and thought to myself, "I'll just eat this right out of the bowl", but it turned out to be kind of bland. Y'know, cheesecake sans graham cracker crust just don't taste right. So I got to thinking what I had in my cabinets that I could add to it to make something creative, but still good.

First, I grabbed the bottle of strawberry preserves (I bought that squeeze bottle. You know, the one you have to sit upside down in the fridge. I also bought it because when it's nearly empty, it makes loud fart noises and my dad can't stand it. Just a little entertainment for me.) and I squeezed out some into the bowl a little at a time. Squeeze. Stir. Taste. Squeeze. Stir. Taste. Until finally, I got it the way I wanted it. I thought I was finished then, but it was still lacking something, so back I trotted to the kitchen with bowl of ready-made-cheesecake + strawberry preserves in hand. I stood in the middle of the kitchen (in the semi-dark) and just looked around. Aha! Rice Krispies. So I put some of those in with the cheesecake and strawberry preserves. Same method as before. Pour. Stir. Taste. Pour. Stir. Taste. Until it tasted right to me. In fact, I thought it was damn good if I do say so myself.

I then took it out on the back porch to test my experiment on Dad. I said, "Taste this and see if you like it." He looked at me in the dark, dubiously, and said, "What is it?" I said, "Strawberry Cheesecake Rice Krispie Treats." He still looked doubtful, but he took a small spoon of it and put it to his mouth like he was being forced to eat glass. Then, all of the sudden, he turned to me and said, like he was surprised-as-shit that I actually made something good, "I really like this!" Then silence for a couple of seconds while I turned to go back inside. Just as I was getting to the back door, I hear him say, "Are you going to eat all of that?"

What's amazing to me is that I made these things 16 years after I stopped smoking pot. I mean, let's truth-it-out here: strawberry cheesecake rice krispie treats are something that people make when they're so stoned that they could eat cardboard and like it. I know, I've been in that state before and the food that materialized I can't even talk about because it was so stomach-churning. But these are good! I'm actually thinking about taking some to my family Christmas thing. I may improve on the recipe, though. Like add some chocolate chips or maybe marshmallows. I'm going to have to experiment with it. Of course, you know, Dad will be my guinea pig.

It's at times like this when I think to myself, "Maybe there is a cook laying dormant underneath all my non-domesticity." Then, I come to my senses and realize that the only things I make well are desserts and that's only because I am ruled by my sweet tooth. Everything else I eat is pretty much canned, packaged and processed (except for the salad-I love salad).

I guess the no-wheat-gluten thing is forcing me to be creative with my food. That's a good thing since I've never really been that creative with food. For instance, I now eat PB&Js on corn tortillas. It may sound gross to you, but it's really good. I was telling Sally one day that they would probably be really good if I could find a way to fry them without all the stuff inside getting all melted. Too fatty, though, for regular eating. Like I said, my brain is a one-track-dessert-mind. Basically, corn tortillas have replaced my bread. Anything I used to use bread for...I now use that. Again, it does require some creativity on my part, but the longer I go without eating wheat products the better I feel and when I do give in and eat something, like brownies or whatever, and get to coughing with the asthma my allergy to wheat causes and then the body pains come. They radiate from my stomach area. Not fun. It's then that I realize how dumb what I just did was and it makes me more committed to living gluten-free.

It's Weird To Say, "I'm going to school" At 36

Most of y'all know that I'm a student. For those that don't: I'm a senior double-major in Psychology and Spanish. I have a buttload of student loans already to pay back when I graduate (whenever that may be).

Every two semesters, I have to go here FAFSA on the Web and fill out a FAFSA form to renew my loans and grants. I always hope for more grants than loans, but it never turns out that way. Murphy's law I guess.

My memory is so short, though, that I always forget what the web addy is to the FAFSA site. I always wind up Googling it and it takes forever. I also always forget my pin #, which means I have to email the folks at FAFSA Online to get it, but they don't email it to you. At least from what I remember, they snail mail it to you. I guess it's safer that way. But whatever, I'm glad that I can do it online. When I was in college before, you had to fill those things out by hand and snail mail them in. Talk about a pain in the rear. Online is so much easier and now since I have these links here, I won't have to go searching all over the internet for them. I'll still have to get my pin #, though. Oh well, small price I guess for having all this stuff online in an easy format, with help, tips, and whatnot.

I feel kind of weird being in school at 36. Most of the other students are 19-22. I even had a professor several semesters ago who was a Ph.D. He was younger than me. *lesigh* One day I'll graduate.

I Got My Book!!!!!

I can't believe Dad bought this book for me. When I first found it on Amazon and told him about it, he said that he wouldn't be able to get it for me until next month (I have a feeling this is my Christmas present. No complaints here.) and I sort of just stood there looking at him and not saying anything for a few minutes, while he looked everywhere but at me. Then, he said, guiltily, "Go and get my wallet." and while I was walking down the hall, he yelled, "Does that place take debit cards?"

Most all of my Anne Rice books are first edition, except for a few. Of course, My copy of Interview With The Vampire isn't. I also don't have $500-$800 dollars to spend one a first edition of that one. I'm hoping I'll come across it in a used book shop one day where the people don't know how much it goes for. (I know it's an evil wish. I don't want to scam anyone, I just want the first edition copy without having to give my arm, leg, firstborn child....) My copy of The Vampire Lestat is also not a first edition copy, but I think it's more likely that I could get hold of one of those way easier than I could the other one. As far as the rest of the Vampire Chronicles, I have them all. All first edition hardcovers. Oh, I almost forgot, I don't have Memnoch The Devil and Tale of the Body Thief, which are part of the Vampire Chronicles. So, that leaves that part of my collection 2 short.

I also have Servant Of The Bones hardcover first edition signed by Ms. Rice. I got the chance to meet her briefly at the book signing for Servant Of The Bones just by chance. Chance, because Sally called me and told me about the book signing. Otherwise I would never have known. If I remember correctly, we talked about margaritas.

My copy of The Feast of All Saints is a first edition, but it's not hardcover, it's tradepaper, which means it's not paperback and not hardcover, but something in between. My collection of her books rounds out with The Witching Hour, which is a hardcover, but not a first edition and I don't have the two sequel books Lasher and Taltos. Well, I have them in paperback, but I want them in hardcover, first edition preferrably. My copy of Violin is a harcover first edition. That was a different book for her. A departure, but I think she put more of herself into that book than she has any of her others. Sally got me Christ The Lord for Christmas last year-hardcover, first edition. Finally, I have the Beauty books, for which she took the psuedonym, A.N. Roquelaure. They are, in order: The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, Beauty's Punishment, and Beauty's Release. The copyright pages of these books say that they are "first edition Ballantine printings". They aren't hardcover. I don't know if these particular books were ever published in hardcover. I've never seen or heard of anyone who has them or has seen them in hardcover. The ones I have are printed in tradepaper.

The other books I'm looking to get are: Belinda, The Mummy or Ramses the Damned and the one short story she wrote whose name escapes me right now. That is a really rare book. I don't know if I'll be able to get my hands on one of those, but I'm going to give it my best shot.

And yes. I'm one of those freaky Anne Rice fan collectors who want everything she does no matter what it is-in hardcover, first edition and signed (the signing is not really a matter of importance to me, but it's a nice touch.)

Forest Fairy Princess

Do y'all know what GreenDimes are? When I think of that, it brings to mind the oldandmoldy dimes I used to find and pick up off the street (or anywhere for that matter) when I was a kid. (Ok, I still pick up random change. Shhhh.)

These Green Dimes are different, though. This is actually a company that, when you sign up for it, gets you off of junk mailing lists and those freakin' credit card offer lists (You can also buy a membership for someone else, of course. That would be cool to go in together with a friend/spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend.). I can't tell you how much I hate junk mail. And another thing I hadn't thought about is that the less junk mail you receive, the less chance of someone stealing your identity. All of that junk mail stuff usually has personal info on it. I think about that when I'm throwing it away, momentarily, but I never knew what to do about it until now. It seems identity theft is getting easier for the theives all the time. I, for one, don't want to make it any easier for them.

They also plant trees. Now, I've never been a tree-hugger type of person. (I mean that in the nicest way.) The older I get, though, the more concerned I am about the mind-boggling amount of waste produced by not only this country, but also other countries. We are running out of our natural resources at an alarming rate. When we sign up with GreenDimes, we not only get ourselves off those irritating junk mail lists, but also 12 trees will be planted and we'll stop 280 gallons of water from being wasted just because we joined. I've never heard of a service like this before. It's so different that I'm still trying to wrap my head around it.

I never really appreciated trees until I moved to the subdivision where I live now. The builders stripped the land of all the trees before they built these houses, so now, if you want trees, you have to plant them yourself and then wait the 20 or so years for them to grow, unless you want to buy a more mature tree, which I'm told is a bit pricey (for me anyway). When I was younger, every place I lived was overrun with trees. I climbed trees. I played forestfairyprincess in the midst of the trees in my backyard. I miss trees.

Once I get some money, this might be something I actually do.

Thursday Thirteen #8

Thirteen Things About Anias Nin

13 Books I Own That I Have Either Not Read Or Not Finished Reading

1. The Hollow Hills~Mary Stewart (not started)
2. The Tale of Gengi~Murasaki Shikibu (the first book written in Japan by a woman-not finished)
3. Last of the Amazons~Steven Pressfield (not finished)
4. Jane Eyre~Charlotte Bronte (not finished)
5. The Memoirs of Cleopatra~Margaret George (not finished)
6. The Satanic Verses~Salman Rushdie (not finished)
7. The Grass Crown~Colleen McCullough (not started)
8. Gai-Jin~James Clavell (not finished)
9. Whirlwind~James Clavell (not started)
10. Inside the Third Reich-Memoirs of Albert Speer~Albert Speer (not finished)
11. The Lovely Bones~Alice Sebold (not finished)
12. The Princes of Ireland-The Dublin Saga~Edward Rutherfurd (not finished)
13. Don Quixote~Miguel de Cervantes (not started)

Of course, y'all know that all these books I've started reading, but put down, I'll have to reread completely, because I'll not remember what I've previously read. What's even worse is that there are way more books than this in my collection that I've either not read or started and put down, but these are miniscule in comparison to the books in my collection that I have read. So, the next time I want to buy a new book someone remind me that I have to get another bookshelf first.

Too Open

What do y'all think of the whole "Myspace" thing? I used to have a Myspace account, but I eventually deleted it after having it for about a year because I just got tired of the blinky adverts, the "am I hot or not?" rating thingys,and the women and men who basically pimp themselves by posting near naked or fully naked photos. Myspace says they don't allow naked photos and that anyone who posts them on their site will have their site immediately deleted, but from what I've seen, that doesn't happen too often.

I joined Myspace originally to reconnect with friends I haven't seen in ages and to be introduced to cool bands I'd never heard before. To me, that's the best thing about Myspace. Besides what I mentioned above, I think by far the worst thing about Myspace is that it's a playground for child molesters. When I had my account, I noticed many many accounts of children under the age of 18 (I could be wrong, but I think Myspace has a rule that you have to be 18 in order to have an account, but they don't do any kind of age verification at all.) Most of the children who had accounts put all of their personal information for public display on their account. Let me tell you something, even though I don't have children, this open-ness scares me.

I know every child/teenager has had a different life-some lives are harder than others. By the time a child gets a Myspace account, they may already have been molested (God forbid), but that doesn't mean that they should be prey to it again. As a survivor of repeated child abuse, incest, rape, and molestation, I can say that I wish there had been someone looking out for me. When I was a child, there was no such thing as the internet. Imagine how much easier it is now for pedophiles to find children.

I can't say that all children think that no harm will befall them from meeting new people, but I can say that the hope and naivete that children have is, at the same time, their most endearing yet vulnerable quality.

I'm not trying to sound alarmist here, but I think great care needs to be taken with children and the internet, especially with social networking sites. I don't think children should be denied the internet if their parents have the resources for it and the mind to obtain those services. I'm just saying that children need rules concerning the internet and parents need to be informed about just what is going on with the internet and social networking sites.

This website, Social Shield has all kinds of info to help parents concerning Myspace Safety as well as info on other social networking sites, like Friendster. As you can tell by this post, I'm a strong supporter of anything that helps keep pedophiles away from children. I know what that kind of pain is like and I can tell you that I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen to another child.

So, if you are a parent and are concerned/want to know just what is up with all these social networking sites, the site I hotlinked above would be a good place to go.

~Untitled~December 14 2006~

My



strasse


is

too


wide
I can never manage to cross it
completely
I try






"There's a fewthang's inthestreet, girl"
it's the little-man-in-my-head
I don't know who he is
never have






He wants to keep me on the curb.
Dammit.
They always move
not like they could ever stay in the same place
Ever
so's I could navigate
My





strasse
without getting my legs knocked from 'neath me.

Y'know that old joke
why the chicken crossed the road?
He only got across because
there were no
pink elephants
in
his strasse.
````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
© Robyn Fenner

The theme this week for Poetry Thursday was to write about streets. I'm not one of those people who can write well about surroundings and such, like what wet streets seem to be-poetically, but what I can write about is what is going on in my head. There's always something or other going on in there. I've been writing about what's going on in my gray matter since I was 14. Honestly, I do, if I want to evolve with my poetry, need to learn how to write in styles different than what I'm used to. You know, step out of the comfort zone. That's what poets do anyway. Right? Make people uncomfortable?

Apples, Anyone?

This is one of the possible designs of the new Apple cell phone. Y'know Apple has come up with some pretty creative stuff. I'm just not so sure about the iPhone. Some of the possible designs include video screens. Are we supposed to be able to watch videos, listen to music, and talk on the phone with the same device? It sounds cool. I just don't know how they'd pull it off. I'm no computer whiz by any means, but my only question is, do we really need a videomusictelephone thingy? I suppose it would be really popular with the Mac crowd. I have some friends who are "Mac people" and they swear by them and have a devotion to Apple that fringes on religious. Apple has always prided itself on being an innovator, though, so I guess this is just the next step. I'm also wondering just how much something like this would cost. The 30G iPod is about $250 dollars. How much memory of the phone will be dedicated to music, how much to video and how much to the general phone things? How many gigs are we talking here? And, more importantly, how many dollars are we talking?

According to the site I hotlinked above,Everythingiphone.com, the first two iPhones will be released in January, but will only be sold exclusively through Cingular Wireless. I used to work for Cingular. I refuse to have Cingular service. There are better providers and that have better and more informed customer service agents. My experience with Cingular is that the amount of disinformation that is proliferated amongst the employees is just mind-numbing.
That aside, I think it would behoove Apple, if they intend to have a major succes with it's iPhone, like they have with the iPod that they make it available to all wireless service providers. It seems to me that anyone with common sense would know that.
EDIT: I just went back to the site and saw that the iPhone is being released to all wireless carriers. So, that's a check in the pocket for Apple. Also I found this to be so right-up-my-ally:


In the end, I guess I have to concede that it's a pretty cool idea. I don't know if I'd buy one, but I did ask for an iPod for Christmas. At least I can admit that I'm hypocritical.

The Sandman and I Need to Work on Our Relationship. Seriously.

Ever get that feeling where your body wants to keep going, but your mind is in hibernate mode? That's where I am right now. My brain is crying, begging even, for sleep. I can hardly hold my eyes open and my thoughts are slow and blurry. Like trying to look through a thick fog while it's raining sideways. But my body wants to carry on. Every time I lay down to try and sleep, I toss and turn, because my body just won't be still. That in turn, sets me to thinking (I use "thinking" here in the loosest terms.) why I can't go to sleep and my brain, in such a state as it is, tries to chug along to keep up with my body. So, all of this means that I just wind up frustrated and mad because I can't sleep, which makes it even harder to go to sleep.

I'm not a career insomniac. I mean, most of the time, the minute my head hits the pillow, I'm gone for a good 5 hours at least and that's even in the day-time. Even when I sleep that much in the day-time, I can still usually go to bed at a reasonable time later on that night and sleep 8 or 10 hours. I sleep a lot. I like to sleep. Unless I'm having recurrent nightmares, which of course, puts this in a whole different light. But I'm not having recurrent nightmares right now and haven't been for quite some time. Just really, really weird dreams. The kind that make me think it's only the mercy and grace of God that I'm a lucid person after all the acid (and various other things) I did as a teenager. By all accounts, I should be a vegetable garden in a psychiatric ward with a Thorazine drip knitting 8-legged onesies for my hybrid alien/human children (who by the way were conceived when they took my eggs from my ovaries when I was kidnapped).

Yeah. I'm exhausted.

So, I'm sitting here at my computer hoping that somehow that light-that-comes-only-from-computer-screens will make my eyes shut of their own accord. It's happened before. It works better than watching an episode of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. It's something about the light from the screen. Like when you go into Wal-Mart and all of the sudden you feel somehow different. I do, anyway. It's like my mind gets fuzzy and that's why I'm able to buy all that useless shit I wind up with at the register. Maybe it's something they pump through the air vents or maybe it's the music or the temperature at which they keep the store or maybe it's the lights. They're awfully similar to computer screen lights. Hmmmmm....Conspiracy? I have no clue. I just know that I cannot go to Wal-Mart unaccompanied or I'll wind up with $300 dollars worth of shit I don't need. And be ecstatic that I bought it. Until I get home. That's when the Wal-Mart spell is broken. Bring out the drama-anger, crying, yelling, cursing- at myself. I never wind up taking any of that stuff back, though, because the returns area at Wal-Mart is like one of Dante's 7 levels of Hell. I'd rather just keep the crap I don't need and give it to someone else who does than willingly stand in the line to Hell just to try and return it. I punish myself a lot, but damn, there are just somethings I, as a semi-crazy-sometimes-semi-sane person, will not do. My psychiatrist calls that "setting boundaries". Only when I told him about this particular problem, I think he thought I got the boundaries backwards. Y'know? Like I should put a boundary on my spending;therefore, avoiding the dreaded hellish lines of the return area. Figures. Everything I do is ass-backwards.

So...I'm going to try sleep again. Y'all wish me luck.

Wordless Wednesday