%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Whew! Life! It's time to get down and let her rip! |
|
{f:comic} It's time to get SERIOUS. I haven't been writing due to life but I know now if I let life stand in the way of my talent I will loose it. I have to write or read about writing. I have to hand write in journals. I have to be active on this sight. I need to read the literature I want to write! We all have to get with the program or get off the speed boat of life. |
| The entry title of this day's BLOG is for those of you who do not know yet that there is no one in this world you can control. You might be saying, "I can control myself." Think about it thought if you get mad are you in control? There are many other instances in which we cannot contol ourselves. I don't even make long term plans because I know who is in control. Well, the past couple of days has revealed this entry and more. Sometimes my life is such an embrassment that I don't want to reveal what goes on. Also, during this time I know that what people say doesn't matter. What they think about me is their decision and there's nothing I can do to stop them from thinking. |
| Yes, today was the day for the big one. I had parted with things that clearly I felt would be forever. Mother Earth didn't agree with me on this one, I rather think that she wanted me to have it. My husband, jerk that he is slept all night while I worked on the pricing, boxing, and cleaning. So it was time to go and I said that we'd better watch the weather. "Oh, another reason to be lazy." I was too tired to fight so I just watched the news and it said partly cloudly, shome showers, no storms. Again he said, "I'm going anyway." Then my Mom called and said it was pouring down rain where I was having it at her house. Finally, he said we might as well call it off. We did and I loaded all of the boxes and things on to the car port between his 1951 Chevy Belaire Deluxe (know of anyone who wants to by one?) and the pull behind trailer that is already full of yard sale stuff!!!! I promise this is only a beginning of the stuff I have with my Aunt's collections. All you colectors out there or hoping to be one don't do it. Boycott them. You know how many Bradford items my Aunt had and you can't get the price out of them that they orginally costs much less a good price. Well, so much for the yard sale! Needless to say I slept the rest of the day. Big ideas in my head because next year is Kansas Day, not the big city, Kansas, AL has a population of 260, a small, small town. I would like to live there one day. Her house, or rather now my house is smaller than the one I am living in the problem is there isn't 3 acres like the house I'm in know. Take care...love ya'll |
| She's back they said with a Jack Nicloson voice from the movie where they are spending the night in a haunted mansion. Can anyone get a Stephen King's book in a movie and not screw it up? I think it would be very hard but remember, Interview with a Vampire by Anne Rice? They did a hell of a job on that one. I wanted Brad Pitt in that movie. The dirter he is the better. He's a man, hey he has to be to get that good looking Angelia Jolilee! Well, I've finally done it, I've posted some stuff that's gonna turn writing.com upside down! I create a folder that will contain my abusive stories that are my own. Someone needs to speak out on the state of what the world is like these days and the ones before. Here is the link to it. Hey, am I a commercial for my own success? Did I ever think I would say anything possible at a time like that. Try the read...I think you'll enjoy it
|
You know my depression isn't as bad when I am at my Aunt's house which is the house she left me after she passed away last year. I have to plan a yard sale, probably many because my Mother is going to live there because her home isn't in good shape. I noticed while I was there that I wasn't as depressed. I didn't have to take one nerve pill and felt pretty calm. I wonder, sometimes, if it is not my husband. When I get around him I just get so annoyed. He is insecure and read some of my writing notes. I don't know if every writer does this but I carry a notebook around with me and when I hear stuff that would be material for writing I'll write it down. Well, I left some notes on the living room table by the lamp. He read it and thought the husband was him. It was talking about leaving a husband to find a sugar daddy that would be older and treat her like a Barbie doll. Number one, I am 52, if I get another man, I'm not looking, I would get one about 35-43. Tim, my husband is 50. Also, who's going to treat a dark haired woman usually with long braids like a Barbie doll. Ain't gonna happen, folks! I think the ole hubby has lost it, really! He has some alergy problems because of the pollen but he believes it is throat cancer. Yes, I do need to write that book, it'd be a good one, eh?  |
| How I hate depression when I look outside at the world, so beautiful, flowers coming up, the sun so bright, and the sky so blue. Birds building nests, having little baby birds, the blue bird of happiness outside eating the seeds I leave them. I wish that little bird would grant some happiness to me. I pray that God will give me strengh to make it through another day. I want to go to the pool. I want to lay my body in the water and let it hold me up and feel safe and secure. I have to get a break from life before life breaks me. To all who read this, when you do, I feel your arms around me with a great big hug that is needed so much. |
| I hate funerals. That's where I am suppose to be. My Mother tells me so. It is just too much when you are depressed already and my Mom knows nothing of depression. I think more is wrong with me than that and I really am tired of trying to explain it to everyone. I'm making an appointment with my regular doctor before I just fall over. Then ya'll will be sad but then again I wonder why does anyone read what I have to say? Is it the truth I tell? Am I funny? What brings you to this neck of the woods? |
| Yesterday I suffered a Migrane in which I thought was the end. I endure it all of the beautiful day. My mind wouldn't stop and my two children, my husband who is 50 and my daughter, 24 was constantly arguing. If I could have drove I think I would have just let the whole state. Where would I go? Who knows. Finally at about 10:00 p.m. the whole world of my stomach came up and I flushed it. Wouldn't it be nice if those who don't even have the Courtesy to give one when they are sick could be flushed down the toliet as well? Just a thought. |
| Well, Mr. Psychatrist doesn't think I should be on social security disablity for depression I've had since 1999! He thinks I am like him and need a job for approval so I guess that's what I'll do. I am hoping not to wind up in an office with a bunch of co-workers, with one of them anal retentive so my mind will really explode! A simple job as a cashier even though it wouldn't pay the money I made as an office manager. Maybe Home Depot or Big Lots; that way I could spend my money before I got out of the door. I could enroll in one of the online courses to learn to improve my writing skill. That way when my husband ask me how much did you earn from writing that story. I can proudly say, hey, I'm paying them to read the things! Ha! Catch ya'll later and hey write something different today. |
| try not to fight things as I used to do but when something hits home like my last writing I'm ready to fight the word or at least for my daughter's sake. Nite nite. Dia "Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing," Benjamin Franklin. |
| If the depression would leave and give in its place the woman I used to be. A strong opinionated woman who didn't take any kind of shit from anyone. Now in her place is a mouse of a woman who just sits and takes what is dished to her while her stomach turns. Did life just put too much on me at once and then the worst thing that could happen took place? I don't want to do anything but sit in a fetal position and listen to the husband talk about how bad everything looks. When I talk about what I've written he asks, "Did you make any money for it?" This man forgets that I am the same woman who worked outside of the home, made good money and supported him while he was getting on disability. I ask my psychatrist if I would ever go back to work. Of course, he didn't have the heart to at least put me on social security disablity so I could at least draw $900 a month until I am well enough to go back to work. I wonder if the young man who did those killings at Virginia Tech shouldn't have been hospitilized for the depression instead of being let out to do such a horrid act. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
