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Don't judge a book by its cover... This isn't about tube anemones.
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS SQUIRT THE JUICE INTO THE EYES OF YOUR ENEMIES... |
| Prompt - December 6, 2012: If you could give any gift in the world, what would you give and to whom? This is an easy one: any gift, remember, so no rules. I'd give my best friend and sister 500 million dollars. It's an arbitrary amount, I know, but I think it's a good amount. Enough for her to get the best medical care, get her mom the best medical care, and open up that clinic for elderly animals that she's been wanting. She wouldn't have to worry about working, or how many hours she has to work to keep her insurance. She could raise as many animals (right now she's into fancy chickens and sugargliders. Go figure.) as she wanted, and hire people to do the routine maintenance. She could take that scuba trip to the Great Barrier Reef that she's always wanted. She would have maids, and groundskeepers, and whatever else she needed. She could just relax, and have fun for once. The more I think about it, the more I wish I could really give it to her. She deserves it. My Libs. My best friend. The person who makes my life better. If wishes were fishes... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Okay, I'm in a cheerier frame of mind, having shaken off the funk of the last few days, so the ghost is stepping out of the shadows. Pleased to meet you, my name is Shanna. Spook is my muse, my constant companion. Alright! On to the prompt! When was I the most surprised... Back in time, circa 1993. I know, it was last century, hard to imagine a time so far in the past, a time when cell phones were so big it took two hands to hold, and you spent that time yelling, "Hello?". Texting was unheard of. *gasp of horror from young people. Was there truly such a horrible time in the history of man?* Christmas. I rarely asked for anything, because I had a keen grasp on our poverty, and I hadn't exactly asked this year either. But my ever observant mother had seen me, a fifteen year old girl, fall in absolute love. It was a cherry red Fender, small enough for my little hands, full of graceful, glistening curves. I stared at a picture of it for hours, imagining myself on stage, playing backup for Tool, or maybe jamming with Eric Clapton. I'm sure there were times I drooled on it. The picture, I mean. Christmas morning, I went through the usual routine, opening packages of pants, and socks, and doing that thing, "Oh good! I needed new socks! These jeans are nice! I hope there's some new underwear in here somewhere... yes! Score! New underwear! Thanks mom!" And there were some really good CD's, and a few books, maybe a necklace? Seems like there was a necklace. Then I tried on all my clothes, did a fashion show while she cooked breakfast. As we ate, she asked if I got everything I'd wanted, and I smiled. "Sure did!" She smiled, and then focused on something to my left. "What in the world is that?" I looked. It was a box. A large box. Not big enough for a guitar, but still... and she was obviously proud of it, to have dragged out this ruse. I started to get excited. "Oh, it's from Santa!" I ripped off the paper and stared, tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. It was an amp. Ungrateful me, I started looking around for another secret box. "I guess Santa couldn't get the guitar here, huh? Maybe next year. You'll be able to use that amp really well by then, right?" "Suuuure..." The grin was frozen on my face and I hugged the amp, hating it a little in that moment, but not wanting to disappoint her. I thought about all the long months with no guitar, just this useless piece of electronics... I heard her clear her throat behind me, and I turned. In her hands was a black guitar case. The neighbors heard me scream for sure. I shot across the room and ripped it out of her hands. It was THE ONE. My precious. My red fender. She was so pleased! It was by far the best present I ever had, and the surprise of my life. What a good memory. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| December 3, 2012: What is your greatest regret? You cannot change the past, but if you could, what would you do differently? First, hooray for National Disabled Person's Day! There needs to be like, one week a month dedicated to different disabilities and diseases, just to get some recognition for the lesser known. I saw one of those ribbon magnets for cars that said Scleroderma, and thought Where did they get that? I would have stopped and asked, but it's a bit awkward to chase someone down, possibly running them off the road to ask a question like that. Plus, my car would be absolutely covered in ribbons. National roof over my head day? Yay that too! I feel lucky to have one, and wish everyone did. Okay. My biggest regret. Deep. You're going to hate me after this, just warning you. I should never have gotten married. I would subsequently never have had kids. I should never have brought new life into this dark, crumbling world. I love them so much, still, though I haven't seen them in so long, I love them so much I can't look at their pictures. I still have nightmares about them. I feel selfish now. I'm sure they are bringing light and love to the lives of those around them, and they would fight me to the death for that statement. I'm not saying I wish I'd never brought thenm into the world, that I hate them or something. I just wish I hadn't been so stupid when I was so young. I hope that wherever they are, they are surrounded by love, and have forgotten me completely, but I know better. Isn't it weird that people who used to fill our lives seem to still be there? I passed a Christmas tree stand that's been there for time out of mind, and I made a quick mental note to ask Mom how long she thought it had been there. Then I thought about when she said the only reason we ended up in Oklahoma was because the car broke down on the way to Colorado, and I realized that I didn't know how long she and my dad had been married before I was conceived, and I made a note to ask her that, too. Then I remembered that she's been dead for four years. Anyway, my biggest regret and what I would do differently. Not get married and have kids at twenty. And I would have spent more time on my education. Maybe things would be a lot different for me now. I love my kids. I miss them dearly. I dream about them. I can't even see gorgeous little blond haired children without having a break down. Let me clarify here. I don't regret my kids, I regret that I had kids. Does that make any sense at all? I've probably passed on my mental and physical illnesses, and no one should have to have that given to them. And who knows what their dad and grandparents have told them about me. At least they will have the support, mentally and monetarily, to deal with them. And they won't be living the terrible life I lived, watching my mom deteriorate. They probably will graduate and have good jobs, go on vacations, and have all the things I wanted for them. That's the upside. I love you, kids. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Sitting here watching the news, against my will. I'm not a news watching type, but I grudgingly give in, because my love is the news watching type. I adhere to that old axiom that ignorance is bliss. There's enough darkness in my own soul without adding to it. The stories are bleak. A fire here, a dead body there. A tunnel collapsed in Japan. And then the anchor woman smiles and changes the tone. "Regrowing body parts. Why it may not be science fiction." Whoa. Hang on. Regrowing body parts? I remember in a previous entry I said something smart about body regeneration, and good luck with that. Looks like it's closer than we think. Of course, Mr. A.D.D. changed the channel before I got to hear the story. Marching band? What the...? Watched a show last night on PBS (I don't have cable ) about people who show ferrets. An odd bunch, but I realize that anyone with an obsession is pretty odd. My particular vice is fish and corals. Yes, I obsess. At one time I had over twenty fish tanks, ranging from betta tanks to an enormous 250 gallon. I thought if I got another, I'd have to get rid of my bed and sleep on the floor. I'm odd in my own way. Thought about getting a group together, one from each group of obsession; dog, cat, bird, rabbit, etc. One person from all obsessions, talking about why their's is the best. What a heated, interesting conversation that would be! Hope no one gets hurt! Going to work at five, short shift today. Sunday is usually my day off, but I pitched in because we're short a driver. Don't know how much longer I can keep this up. Still getting the go around from the pain clinic, e.g. we need the referral, you got the referral, I need an appointment, then they called and asked if I called them. A week ago, yes. Hmm. Let me check with the doctor and call you back. No call back. I called them. We need the referral first...Aaaaggghhhhh! I'm getting measurably worse, day by day, and though my doctor is a good hearted fellow, he's completely unprepared to deal with my illnesses. My rheumatologist is a wonderful woman, but ahe wants to work slowly. And I think there's something else going on as well as what I'm diagnosed with. I don't know. I'm just so sick of being in pain. That regrowing body parts thing may be my only hope. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
 Happy Birthday Dennis Cardiff  !  December 1st. What happened to November? For that matter, where did October go? I know time goes by faster as you get older, but this is ridiculous. Time is relative, and I apparently live in my own little bubble that travels at the speed of light. Maybe it's the meds, maybe it's the illness, maybe it's an alien pushing random buttons somewhere. I'll wake up tomorrow in the middle of March, and wonder what happened. Just call me Spook Van Winkle.Today's prompt has me a little stumped. It's going to require a little more quiet contemplation than usual. I have a lot of stuff, and much of it has sentimental value, but the memories are in me, until the time that it's gone completely. Then those things won't matter anyway, because I won't know what they meant. I just hope there's no maddening sense that I almost remember. My immediate response was my car. If I have no car, I have no job. But realistically I could go just about anywhere around my apartment and get some job. I wouldn't make as much, and I wouldn't like it, but it would be a job. I'm a trooper, if nothing else, just like my mom. I could tell you stories about her that would absolutely blow your mind. Maybe someday I will. Immensely entertaining was my mom. Choice two was my inhaler, if the definition of prized is something you take everywhere and can't live without. I don't prize it in a conventional sense, as in I'm proud of it, and it's the first thing I show guests. However, it is quite precious to me. That led inevitably to choice three, my life, because I seem unable to let it go. I have tried, but somehow, something in me fought through and held on to that tenebrous thing called the soul, held on for dear life, pun intended. But prize it? I don't know. Interest in hanging on to that waxes and wanes periodically. Oh! We're taking a left turn here, but I have to share this before I forget again. I was driving east tonight, as the still mostly full moon rose, fat and golden on an empty horizon. It peered from between two arched clouds, looking so much like the eye of God, peeking in through the indigo curtain of night. It didn't look pleased. My breath froze in my chest, in terrible fear and reverence to this awesome beauty. "Don't judge us too harshly." I whispered. "We are but ants in our hill. We strive for greater things. Give us time." As I stared at this most amazing sight, the eye seemed to soften in expression, becoming sympathetic. I couldn't tear my gaze away (don't worry, in times like this I have another, who takes on the driving task. It sounds scary, I know, but I've never had a wreck that was my fault. Knock on wood.), but as I tore in a ragged breath, the clouds that ringed the moon like eyelids drifted away and I blinked. Just the moon again, not a brightly burning golden eye, looking under the cover of the birdcage to see the sleeping canaries. Did I really see and feel this? I don't know, but I surely have an open mind about these things. Okay, right turn. My mother's ashes. They are undoubtedly precious to me, in a macabre sort of way. I could live without them. They aren't my mother, she lives in me, through memory and the weird quirks I have that mirror her. Her recipe for cornbread dressing. We're getting closer. My dogs are pretty prized. They accept me completely, never question my actions, kiss away my tears, and are always happy to be with me. They, in fact, have arguments about who gets to be the closest to me. I love them, but I don't really consider them possessions. How can one possess another living soul, as in owning it? I don't own them, I take care of them, the way they take care of me. You know, I think that my most prized possession is actually intangible. It would have to be the ability, that I possess, to write. Do I do it well? That's not for me to decide, nor is it relevant. If I couldn't write, I would have gone completely insane long ago. The ability to articulate my chaotic thoughts into written words has kept me level more than any pill or potion. When it's gone, so too shall I be. Gone, I mean. Getting tired. Perhaps my prized possession needs some sleep. It seems to be less articulate than I thought. Left turn again. My Area Manager, who used to be my boss, and is now my boss's boss, said something so hurtful to me today that I'm still upset. I keep trying to let it go, but it keeps coming back, like a sharpened, glittering boomerang. Beyond being my boss, she was my friend. I thought. I can't believe she said what she said. A coworker told me to shake it off, and I ended up venting to him. She's still mad at me because I demoted myself. I was her golden child, and I disappointed her. Sorry I was diagnosed with a couple of terminal diseases and decided that I didn't want to spend the rest of my short life busting my ass unhappily. My bad. Well I'm done busting my ass for her. She yelled at me when I asked for a quarter raise, treats me like crap, and sometimes completely ignores me. Even if she's mad at me as my boss, as my friend she should try to understand that I'm going through some serious issues, and be supportive of my decision to step down from an intensely draining job. Oh well. Goodnight friends and family. Flies and Honey. Spread it around.  |
| Short entry today (maybe, we'll see where this goes). Got a lot accomplished today and feel like I've been run over and set on fire. If I could witness any event in history, it would have to be the Big Bang, if there indeed was such a thing. First because I'm just curious, and second... can you imagine? A blinding, brilliant explosion of light, giving birth to everything in every universe. All the colors flowing out in waves, sparkling and glittering like gems. Eventually slowing, curling, spreading into the velvet black of nothingness, settling into swirls and eddies of gorgeous gasses, forming into balls of light, masses able to support life, rocks and stars and planets falling into their perfectly designed alignment and beginning their gently revolving dance. If I was a real ghost, and not just a figurative one, and could sit still and watch it all flying around me, whirling and glowing, swirling like smoke on a current, I could die happy. Maybe when I do go, God will let me witness it for myself. If I am good, maybe that will be my Heaven. This sounds a little sappier than I usually am, but wouldn't it be awesome? Night night! Feed the Flies lots of Honey! |
First, big congratulations to Emily  for being the first blogger of the week!  You deserve it!Okay, now on to the prompt of the day for ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** What are my pet peeves? Oh. My. God. Do you really want to get me started on this subject? It would be easier to just list non pet peeves. And again, blainecindy hit the nail on the head, as I spent a good portion of my night ranting with coworkers about things that other people do to piss us off. I thought about doing it in alphabetical order, just to switch things up a bit, but I'm feeling chaotic tonight, so I'll just sling some random handfuls of stuff at the wall and see what sticks. Otherwise we could be here for a very long time. Hell, we might anyway. Get comfy, okay? Clothes on the floor. People who interrupt. Rudeness in general. Inconsideration (think I just made up a word!). People who think cars are toys and not a couple tons of steel and glass. Pee on the toilet seat. Not putting things back where they go. When someone says "Irregardless". It's a double negative, brother. When someone who went to medical school for God only knows how long says "Pacific" when they clearly mean "Specific." Having to scrub something because it wasn't cleaned correctly the first time. When someone changes the radio station while I'm driving. I'm in control. When you are in control, you can listen to whatever you want. When I'm soaking wet from the pouring rain and someone says "Stay dry." Running red lights. Speeding through school zones. Cops who speed and don't use blinkers. People who play their music way too loud in their apartment. Yes, you, guy three doors down. Yes, you, guy under me. You're imposing on my life. When I get in my car and my love has been driving. He leaves the radio on a news station, almost full blast, so when it comes on it scares the crap out of me. People who don't clean up after themselves. I'm running out of steam...uh...doctors who don't take me seriously and make jokes about my symptoms. My stomach problems aren't from eating pizza, asshole. Oh, when you scream in pain, or start gushing blood and someone inevitably asks if you are okay. Next one who asks is getting punched in the solar plexus. Then I'll ask them if they're okay. When I look in the fridge for a drink and find an empty tea jug. Why is it still in there? Whew! I think that's enough. Some of those are most likely just things that piss me off, not technically pet peeves. By the way, does anyone know where that phrase came from? It's a pretty weird one. I like phrase and word origins. I am sooooo out of energy right now, my spine is on fire, and the migraine that's been eating away at my brain for the last week is telling me to go to bed before it kills me, so I'm going to take its advice. Until later, Flies and Honey my friends.  |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** November 28 prompt for my Circle: If you were stranded on a desert island, what five items would you take with you? This is getting creepy! I had been toying with the idea of suggesting almost this exact question as a prompt, and yesterday's prompt of someone who makes my life better came just as I was thinking about how much Libs means to me. It's like blainecindy has some kind of telepathy, or a portal into my brain (scary; you don't want to be in there, girl!). So since I've already been thinking about it, I might be a little ahead of the game, but in my version there were only two items. Five! A veritable plethora! (Rubs hands together with a grin) First and foremost, item number one is a giant roll of duct tape. Being a firm believer in the power of duct tape, I think that if The Professor had had some, he might have gotten his erstwhile crew off that island a lot quicker. Of course, that wouldn't have made much of a show (Gilligan's Island, for those of you so young you're scratching your head in confusion). And I'm not talking about the knock-off that's called Duck tape. That stuff is crap. I'm talking about the stuff that the good ol' U.S. Army created to patch their tanks, and then realized that one could theoretically make a rocket out of that great sticky stuff and fly to the moon. Wonderful duct tape. Item two would be my big kitchen knife. I've had this set of knives for about fifteen years, and have never sharpened them. Maybe the army created them, too. They're amazingly sharp. The scissors can cut through pennies! I don't know why anyone would ever need to cut one in half, but by God, they can do it. And yes, I have.  So I'm sure that with duct tape and my kitchen knife, which can cut through bone, I could probably just make an airplane out of branches and rocks and fly away.Item number three: a hen. In case the airplane thing doesn't work out. Item four: a rooster. In case the hen gets lonely. And I guess item number five would have to be my inhaler, seeing as how I would die in pretty short order without it. Then there would be an island overrun with chickens, and part of a duct tape airplane. And my bones. I also hope there's some kind of magical chocolate pond on this island, or the hen might just have to be lonely. ********************************** Okay, something related to my usual blog, something I learned while delivering pizza. I was bantering with a customer while he signed his credit card receipt. He had a sense of humor, so by the time he handed me the receipt I was giggling. Then he asked if I had cheese and peppers. I was pretty pleased, because I just happened to have put some in my jacket pocket for a hotel customer. It really sucks when someone on the fourth floor asks for those, and you, like a dumbass, left them in your car. And they always want you to go get them. That was something I learned long ago. But that guy hadn't asked, so I still had them. I reached in my pocket before he even finished asking, thinking to surprise him with my amazing mind reading abilities. As I pulled them out with a flourish, I said 'Abracadabra!" Unfortunately, totally ruining the effect, a quarter had snuck into the stack of packets, and when I whipped them out, it flew out at lightning speed and binged this totally innocent guy right in the face. No kidding. "Jesus Christ!" He yelped. The quarter bounced off his face and landed on the porch. My face was flaming. I handed him the cheese and peppers as he rubbed his cheek and stared at the coin. "Tada!" I said. "That's free. You can keep that." I turned and very quickly walked back to my car, where I sped off into the night, laughing until tears rolled down my cheeks and I was in danger of driving off the road. So the thing I learned? Do not perform amazing magic tricks for your customers. This is my life. This is why I don't gamble. My luck is just awful. Well, got to get some sleep friends. Til next time, Flies and Honey! |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The prompt for today is so funny and fortuitous, because I went to see my best friend last night, and we had this long, involved conversation about mortality. My brother has been all over our asses about quitting smoking, to the point where I almost attacked him. Luckily, he went to bed before that could happen, because we haven't had a wrestling match in many years. I don't think I could win, but I'd damn sure try. The thing he said that got me so riled up was "I want you guys to get old with me." I shot him an angry glance, and then felt Libs looking at me. I turned, and she had the same expression I felt I had, but shook her head minutely. Neither of us said anything. Shortly after that, he went to bed, leaving us to our rant. See, we both have diseases that will be fatal. There is no cure, only management. We will die before our time, as they say, though I think that when you die, it's pretty much your time, right? Anyway, the point is, he has not come to terms with this. He refuses to believe. He says "Don't say that, there's treatment." But the reality of the situation is that it's either going to either stay the same or get worse. Either one of us could die tomorrow. So that leads me to the prompt, someone who makes my life better. Libs has been my best friend for so long. I usually just call her my sister, but that got weird when she married my brother. I still call her that, but I call my brother Mike when I talk about the two of them. As if she is the one related to me, and he's the one who married in. We've shared so much, all our tragedies, all our triumphs. We're so close we even share a fatal disease! Ha. She has always been there when I needed her. I felt a bit ashamed as I thought that, because I don't know if I've always been there for her. She might say "Oh, I told you about blah, blah, blah" and I'll say "I don't think you did, but with my memory turning to swiss cheese..." and she'll get all big eyed and say "I didn't??" I miss out on too much of her life by existing in mine. I realized that last night as we talked about our impending deaths. I hope that we're still close enough in our souls that we won't have to live without each other. At least not for long. Libs makes me a better person. She is practical and rational, the complete opposite of me, the yin to my yang, if you will. She has kept me out of so much trouble, and bailed me out when I did get in trouble. She's talked me off the ledge once or twice. I can barely remember (what came before this, precious moment, choosing to be here) life before her. Libs has always been standing strong beside me, even through the pain. I hope we can get adjacent beds when it's time to go, because I just can't imagine a single moment without her living in my life. By the way, that was a line from a Tool song. I think it's called Parabol, or Parabola, but my brain isn't working well right now, so I can't really remember. If you knew me as I hope you someday will, you'd realize how messed up it is that I cant remember the title. Maynard is my prophet. Whatever it is, it's a beautiful, heartbreaking song. Look it up if you're into beauty.  |
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I was never sick after a flight, real or imagined, and I have flown countless times.
