Tuesday, September 11, 2007
the lowdown on my situation
It all started a few years ago, when I wrote what I like to refer to as my Manifesto. Yes.
And then, after getting west nile virus and being subdued on seizure meds for 2 months, I woke up one morning and said, "no. it ain't gonna be like this."So I flushed the rest of the pills down the toilet and for the first time, picked up the laptop that my mother purchased for me and I refused to use. When she brought it in, I gave her a mean look and said, "You know I donated my last computer, don't you?" It was intended as a threat.I get rid of things. But that's another story.
Anyway, sometime in February or March of this year, I discovered myspace. And then I discovered blogging.I have been inflicting my head on the general public ever since. Thanks, blogs. For once, there's something I like in this wretched world.
So this is how it all started. Over these past few months, I have grown more honest, more open, and more emptied. And it just keeps coming.
Yay blogs.
~~oh, btw, just when you think you found me...
Grampa Jones
My mom's dad, Grampa Jones. The only man in the family that I could identify with. He and my grandmother divorced in the early 70's and he lived the high life every day after that. Traveled all over, had lots of girlfriends.
We got lots of cool things in the mail from him, including catalogs from head shops. My mom complained but he said he thought "Amy would like the colorful pictures." I did! He drove a candy apple red Stingray. Looked like a little hot corvette parked outside our house. When he visited I looked out the window at it. A whole lot. And I was only 7 or 8. What's wrong with me? Ever since a child I've had a thing for fast cars. Like a guy.
Grampa was a pilot in WW2, flew bombers. Got shot down, did some time in a prison camp. He took the time to write his experiences down, which I took and posted in a condensed form, in a blog, a few months ago. Like an idiot, I deleted it, like everything else I've written. He ended up with emphisemia (sp?) in the late 80's, and by the mid-90's he was on oxygen. Couldn't kick the smokes. I loved him.
We got lots of cool things in the mail from him, including catalogs from head shops. My mom complained but he said he thought "Amy would like the colorful pictures." I did! He drove a candy apple red Stingray. Looked like a little hot corvette parked outside our house. When he visited I looked out the window at it. A whole lot. And I was only 7 or 8. What's wrong with me? Ever since a child I've had a thing for fast cars. Like a guy.
Grampa was a pilot in WW2, flew bombers. Got shot down, did some time in a prison camp. He took the time to write his experiences down, which I took and posted in a condensed form, in a blog, a few months ago. Like an idiot, I deleted it, like everything else I've written. He ended up with emphisemia (sp?) in the late 80's, and by the mid-90's he was on oxygen. Couldn't kick the smokes. I loved him.
One day he just put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. My mom had to fly out there to Reno & clean it all up.
He never did believe in God. I miss him. He was the only man in my family that gave me the time of day, as in, I could tell that he really enjoyed it. I had fun uncles, but that doesn't count. You need a grandfather who treats you special. I've seen his childhood pics, and we look identical. When I pull my hair back, I look exactly the same as he, when he was a boy. My mom says I'm "all Jones" and I take that as a compliment. Goodbye, Grampa. I never did kick my teacher in the shins.
Monday, September 10, 2007
2 men
This is the man I married, at the age of 21. He was 19. We were married 6 years. He is the father of my beautiful daughter. 
This is the man that I ran off with, after my husband & I separated. (No, I didn't know him beforehand.) 
These 2 men have unknowingly shaped me and my entire outlook on men, the world, love, romance, and myself. Both men have taught me. These men are complete polar opposites in every aspect of their lives. But each, to me, are perfect representatives of my own extremes, and in each one there was a certain comfort.
Since knowing these two, I have dated lots of other types, and they all seem to fall somewhere in between. It's as if these guys have etched themselves in my head, each representing the opposite ends of my mental spectrum.
It's sort of an Ernie/Bert phenomenon. Black/white. Bitter/sweet. Easy/hard. Empty/Full.
I'm on a swing. A see saw. A rollercoaster that ends up in the lake. A contaminated one.
Just so you know.
camp letters
Dara & I did manage to get along, but only if there was a wide gulf between us. Like an ocean, maybe. In this case, I was in Glen Rose. Not too far from home, but far enough.
More spoiling from my loving mother
all I had to say involved conspiracies. I was only 11. Sad, I know.
comforting words from my mother. I breathed a sigh of relief when I received this. But it was too late, we had all thrown away our toothpaste at camp.
more from my scrapbook
there has never been a child on this earth more afraid of shots than me. And to think I endured a lumbar puncture! 
Now you know. Perhaps I should sell this design to PETA.
One of my attempts at a greeting card. The bug is made out of beans, glued on. I still think it would have sold well.
Now this was quite a discovery today. My dad's mom. She's dead. Never really knew her that well, she was quiet and all she ever talked about was her neighbors, her job, and her plants. So to see that she wrote me this was a surprise. She was a sweet woman. She wrote this when I was just a kid, and I guess it meant nothing to me, because I didn't even know it existed. But today as I read it, my eyes welled up with tears. It speaks to me now.
Does anyone remember The Magic Turtle? A really cool theater in the Oak Lawn area in the 70's? There was this man in a turtle costume, he was like the host, and they put on all different kinds of plays for kids there. It was a real treat to go to the shows. I thought this poster was cool.
The way me & my dad have always communicated is funny. Never have we connected for real. It's just lighthearted silly stuff. That, or we talk about the dogs, or fun camping memories, or dinner. We don't go deep. So, over the years, if I got a card from him, it was never "to Daughter". It was always "to my niece" or "to a good uncle" or "Hello, Grandfather!"
So I followed his lead and all my cards to him are a joke as well. Hey, it's better than nothing. This is from 88 I think?
My mother's many attempts at encouraging me. She always tried to connect with me, wherever I was at in life. 
This is a cartoon she drew one time when I was bawling about my living situation in my early marriage, having to live at the grandmother's house. My mom said I coped in these 2 ways: either freaking out, or stuffing it in. I didn't get what she was saying, so she drew this for me. Then she said there is a better way to cope, she talked about working through things and moving forward. Yeah I got a cool mom.
My senior year I failed math. Shouldn't have graduated. But my math teacher saved my butt by calling my parents and forcing me to figure out the lessons. I still failed, but, mysteriously, my report card said 70 on it. I know for a fact I did not make a 70. So I wrote this after I graduated & sent it to him. My mom saved this, I guess it was the rough draft or something. Honestly. Have I had it hard, or easy? I can't figure it out.
postcards from Uncle Mike
This is my mother's older brother, Mike. He never stayed put in one place. We received lots of interesting things in the mail from him, including Arab head things and batiks from India. He spoke several different languages including fluent German, which I tried very hard to learn but am unable to make my mouth create such bizarre sounds. Here's some of the postcards we received from him, over the years. I'm too lazy to put them in the right order though. 
Mike died in '99, I think it was? And my sister Val hacked his email and sent this out to all his friends.
Mike had a whole bunch of people who loved him.
He made this collage of himself & sent it to me. Knowing that I have relatives that are stranger than me makes me feel so much better. I love you, Uncle Mike!
driving, getting rid of things, and I scanned a sheep.
I did it. Got a trash bag, put all the drawings from my childhood in, squirted ketchup all over them, then some water (to insure mold production), tied it up and threw it in the dumpster.
What a glorious feeling to throw things away. Especially things that have been saved for so long. You should really try it. Once you start, you won't go back to holding on to things. Anyway I think my mother would have a heart attack if she knew what I just did. At least I scanned & saved some first. (the ones I put on here.) Now I'm looking at the box that has my school yearbooks in it.
Oh, you're wondering why I'm 37 and keep mentioning my mom? Cause I had to come live with her when I got punched in the head by west nile, back in December. Had no idea what was wrong with me. MRI's showed marks on my brain, and I was having seizures in my sleep. Memory was non-existent and I couldn't hardly finish a sentence without a long pause in the middle. So my kid went to live with her dad, I had to let my apartment and my job go, and I came out here. Finally, months later, a lumbar puncture was ordered because they thought it might be MS. Well guess what. It was west nile. I know. I was shocked and so was everyone I know. It's gone now, all I have now are the antibodies.
So now, I need to get used to driving again. Some friends have been keeping my car at their house, they use it occasionally, which is good. On Oct 2 I get the results back on my last MRI. If the coast is clear, I'm good to go. This means employment and eventually, my own place once more. I have been on my own for so long, and it was quite a culture shock to have to come here and be dependent on another person. But I'm thankful. It's been good. And I'm all better. What more could I ask for?
I already decided where to work, there's a mall not too far from here. And as far as apartments go, I got my eye on Carrollton. Both my sisters live over that way, and both are spawning, and need my help. Or so I like to think. Since my kid is with her dad, I can get something tiny. There's one bedroom studios for $500/month! And they're cute! This is less than what I was paying at the little grungy place I had in Red Oak. You know, where I buried my dog out back, cause I could. Actually I got a neighbor to do it. This is also the place where I am 100% positive I got the west nile. But that's another story. Another blog entirely.
This morning I was reading my Bible, in Matthew.
For the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost.
What do you think? If any man has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go and search for the one that is straying?
And if it turns out that he finds it, truly I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine which have not gone astray.
Matt. 18:11~13
The other night when Leah & Ali & I sat at Starbucks and I showed them what was in my change purse (I refuse to carry a normal purse, for a variety of reasons), one of the things they laughed at was the fact that I had this little tiny sheep in there. I put it on the table and they were like, "what?" I just laughed. Too long of a story.
The truth is, it's a sign for somebody. I keep it on me, because you never know when you might run into someone. But, this person has moved, so chances are slim I'll ever see him again. That, and the fact I was hostile to him recently. Between these 2 factors, this little sheep will never reach it's destination. Therefore, it has been scanned in and posted on a blog. Said recepient may or may not see this, but if he does, I'll explain:
You know you never saw me without there being something in my pocket for you, right? Well, the last time we talked in person, you remember that day? We stood by the door. When you left, I turned around and straightened the shelves. There, on the shelf, directly behind where I stood, was this little sheep.
Immediately the verse above came to mind.
Not only as a sign that His will was carried out, and that you were greatly cherished in His sight, and greatly missed~ BUT~ that you too have a calling. Remember what I told you? Think sheep?
Smiling? I sure hope so.
Laughing at me? Highly likely. I never meant for any of that to happen. I had no idea that God would hijack our communications like He did.
That's all I know, for now.
childhood drawings #7
lists, lists, and more lists... I would write down songs, turn on the radio, and draw. Each time the song came on, it got checked. Is this ok? Actually, come to think of it, I also did the same thing with my fish. There was a big aquarium in my room, and a really cool big rock in there, it had a hole in the middle. I would write down all the fish names, then each time they swam through the hole, they got a check. Another list was made for cars, they got checked when I saw them drive by. I was a desperate, desperate child. My little mind needed just a bit more than what it received, thus, my own invented world. 
My grandfather had some property in Kaufman, and they had a small "lake" made. Hired bulldozers & fish-stockers & everything, and it became the family campground that was close to home. One time the lake overflowed, so they created a spillway. This led to my father's invention of the Spillway Monster, and we heard all about it around the campfire at night. I was terrified, as usual. 
Full of vile intentions, but never saw any of them into fruition. 
Not only did I write extra sentences, but there is a story written on the back. I was also told by my teacher to "stop writing in curly letters." 
This hurts me way more than it hurts you, Dara....
...enforcing the principles of Tough Love at an early age. I stood my ground. All she wanted was a piece of gum and I knew it.
Worm Island, destination of many treasure seekers and pirates worldwide.
Promptly drew this the second my dad came into my room and gave me a plastic engineer's stencil. The shapes you could make from it were endless. 
I never got cool enough to have any of these cars. In high school I had to drive whatever clunker my dad would get out of the Auto Trader. I started out in a '76 Buick Regal, I called it The Boat. Long and blue, with a white top. It smoked when you started it and it could fit maybe 200 friends. Second car was a '78 Malibu. My dad said he'd pay for a new paint job. I took it up to English Color in Duncanville and had it done in bright Metallic blue. Anyway, cars and me just don't work. It's just too much. I want a horse.
childhood drawings #6 ..ages 5 - 8?
...just so you know.
When turtles go bad.
My nazi sister, at it again
The betrayal! The lies! 
I wonder why Mr. Worm is standing off in the distance. I must have drawn thousands of pictures as a child, and unfortunately for you, my mother saved them all. 
When my daughter first saw this, she fell to the floor laughing, then I started, and we couldn't stop. Neither of us can pinpoint exactly why this is so funny. It just is. I challenge you: look at it and try not to laugh. Just look at it for about 20 seconds. I bet you can't do it. 
Influenced at an early age, most likely by the original Dallas rock station: KZEW...the ZOO! (elephant makes that loud noise) ...Look at his drums. My drawings defy physics.
I remember typing this. It was the day I figured out how to use the typewriter.
story of my life.
childhood drawings #5
...what, you didn't know that one-armed cowgirl hookers were at the top of the foodchain?
made out of paper, scotch tape, and christmas garland, it was the perfect holder for household goods. My mother did hang it up on the wall, beside the kitchen sink. It fell whenever you put anything into the pocket, I tried. At least this has better workmanship and engineering than the Father's Day present I made for my dad: a stuffed bookmark. Made of navy blue felt and stuffed with cotton balls. I wondered why he never used it, until he showed me. The book couldn't close. So, I watched in horror as he sliced it open, removed the cotton, then used it. He killed it. 
made out of paper, scotch tape, and christmas garland, it was the perfect holder for household goods. My mother did hang it up on the wall, beside the kitchen sink. It fell whenever you put anything into the pocket, I tried. At least this has better workmanship and engineering than the Father's Day present I made for my dad: a stuffed bookmark. Made of navy blue felt and stuffed with cotton balls. I wondered why he never used it, until he showed me. The book couldn't close. So, I watched in horror as he sliced it open, removed the cotton, then used it. He killed it. 
Our neighbor Pam said I was born in the wrong generation, that I was a flower child through and through. I loved everyone. Did I ever mention that I used to create houses for the doodlebugs out of milk cartons? And sit and watch for hours until one would actually crawl inside? 
Historical evidence of me & Dara's ongoing war.
what horses fantasise about... having erect pointy ears and a swollen probiscus.
A good mother always thinks things through. Look at the child, has she fed him at all?
A modern day version of this would read: Mommy I love you. I want to learn how to drive my car. 
Going to great lengths to get my way. I think he did cook fish for dinner that night. I left this out on the counter for him to see after work. 
Sunday, September 9, 2007
childhood drawings, age 3ish, #4
queen with nice hips & girls with flowers
"I would give my entire kingdom, but for some arms..."
This one, I just don't know about. Not sure I'd get a good report if a child psychologist took a look at it. Come to think of it, at one point in time, I was threatened with being taken to see one, due to my teacher's complaint that although my grades were high, my mind was elsewhere and I never heard my name being called at Roll Call. 
the wonderful concept of time!
"Holy Bible". Which way does it go? I can't figure it out. BTW- that IS a turtle pooping. Now you know what that looks like. 
pretty christmastime ladies with inter-connected beautiful hats.
more
the inner-workings of a busy hospital. notice the tarantula lurking on the top floor? 
"No No I don't want a shot" ..."Yes Yes you do"
good parenting advice
royal court approaches christmas tree. I don't know what's happening in the air, but the sparkly girl looks concerned...
my first attempt at writing. "The Cat and The Dog" was a story that I started many, many times, and never finished. 
more drawings, age 3ish
happy queen with claw hand walks sparkly flying dog, under decorated sun
happy nurse escapes hospital
hopeful girls sit at table of presents, just out of reach.......this is an obvious foreshadowing of my frustrations to come
"Butterfly House". This is obviously a very happy place. Won't you come with me?
early childhood drawings & early evangelism for the masses
who taught me all this? I was 3 & 1/2. I didn't learn about God until way, way later.
Well guess what. I have now found all of my old drawings....
my kind of fun
...took place, last night. For starters, my daughter was here. Then, her boyfriend Ali showed up. We sat around & talked. Went to Starbuck's, Ali's treat. We sat outside, I showed them the contents of my little dollar-store change purse. A cop car pulled up, I said that I think cops are cute. Just as he was getting out of the car, Ali said, LOUD, "I think cops are cute too, Amy!" The cop smiled at me. I turned beet red. Leah's drink made her sick, so Ali & I discussed politics, world events, Hurricane Felix, and the wretched state of American money-hungry churches while Leah went to the bathroom. Then we went to a nearby school playground, sat on the swings, continued our conversation. Talked about the invention of cars, over the years, that run on hardly anything, yet patents are denied because our nation's economy depends on oil and gas, thereby sealing our fate as modern-day slaves to the system. I looked up and noticed how beautiful the night sky was. Dark blue, faded into black, lots of stars. Saw a t-shirt in Ali's truck, he gave it to me. It was given to him by an old lady that he helps. It's camoflauge, and has three native-looking naked men on it. He was laughing at it, but I said it's the best shirt I've seen in a long time. Leah said I have no right to say what's good or bad in clothing, seeing as how all my stuff comes from thrift stores or the dollar store. She also said that every pair of my boxers and sleeping pants say "chico" on the label. I said I know, it means "small". She said no, it means "boy", and that's why they all fit funny. I never knew. Nor do I care.
That's all for today. I am officially all caught up on this new blog, now it's down to daily, current stuff. It might be boring. It might be spectacular. Who knows?
That's all for today. I am officially all caught up on this new blog, now it's down to daily, current stuff. It might be boring. It might be spectacular. Who knows?
Bo Weevil Club Book
...how brave am I to post this. To admit that this little book was written by me.
I was 10 years old. My dad had just built some stairs outside that led up to his gambling room, so the crooks wouldn't have to come in through the house. At the base of these stairs was a smooth block of concrete that I claimed and called the Mr. Bill Skating Rink, but that's a different story. These stairs were supported by big metal poles that I was fascinated with. I would sit in my pecan tree and imagine what it would be like to slide down one, would I get hurt? I never found out. I had decided that these new stairs, the space underneath and the landing on top, would make the perfect location for a club.
My mom was saving this little book all these years, and it was unearthed a few months ago along with my diary. When I first read this, I was shocked. Was I really that much of a little nerd? My mom says it's more like I was a little nazi, enforcing good behavior. She said in reality, my older sister Dara was the boss, so I was always looking for ways to feel in control. Thus, The Bo Weevil Club.
(in front cover I wrote:)
Blood Type: O Negative
Allergic To: school, boys, doctors
December 1979
10 Mon
Kristi- Member
Michelle- Leader
Gloria- Member
Janet- Member
Pam- Member
11 Tues
Dara- ARCN
Amy- Leader
Tiffany- Secretary
Nippy- Entertainer
Max- Helper
12 Wed
Tamba- Entertainer
Dawn- Janitor
Teresa- Member
Terri- Vice President
Holi & John- Members
Julie- Vice Boss
(a few pages torn out)
20 Thurs
RULES
No Fighting
(spitting, throwing, yelling, or hitting.)
21 Fri
YOU MUST USE YOUR PASSWORD TO GET IN
(the password is)
BO WEEVIL
22 Sat
Don't slide down the poles
23 Sun
Let the nurse help you if you get hurt.
24 Mon
RULES con't.
If you are a Bo Weevil (Club Member), you must obey the rules or you will be kicked out.
25 Tues
NO BOYS ALLOWED !!
26 Wed
Don't innerrupt when someone's talking. Be interested in what they say.
27 Thurs
If you are afraid of dogs, don't run from Nippy is a nice dog and won't bite. She mite smell you alot.
28 Fri
CLUB PETS
Nippy
Max
Tamba
Dawn
29 Sat
Bo Weevil (secret code)
BO WEEVIL
30 Sun
(wrote a series of characters that look like heiroglyphics, could be the code?)
31 Mon
DAYS
Gossip Day
talk about other people
1 Tues
Joke Day
tell jokes
2 Wed
Game Day
play games
3 Thurs
Play Day
play stuff
4 Fri
P.E. Day
Jump on trampoline, do exersises & climb & skate
5 Sat
Make Day
make things
6 Sun
Pet Day
honer the pets
7 Mon
Tips for earning a prize
Please try to bring little things to decorate the club.
8 Tues
When we play games, if you win, you get a prize
9 Wed
Help clean up the club
10 Thurs
Don't get on the roof without permission
11 Fri
Games We Play
Duck, Duck Goose
feel in the bag
Who's gone?
Seven Up
12 Sat
Around the World
Hide N' Seek
13 Sun
Thump Party
Don't Wet Your Pants
14 Mon
A Bo Weevil's Promise
(memorise)
15 Tues
As a Bo Weevil, I will always do my best. I will share with others. I am a true Bo Weevil.
16 Wed
Our Colors
Brown
White
Lavender.
17 Thurs
What Our Flag Looks Like
(drew a picture of a very cute bug with 8 arms, 4 legs, antennas and a smile on a flag with stripes)
18 Fri
JOKES
knock-knock.
who's there?
Nuna.
Nuna who?
Nuna Buisness.
19 Sat
Did you hear about the doggie who thought cheerios were donut seeds?
21 Mon
HOW TO GET IN
let the leaders fill you out a form saying name, telephone,
22 Tues
phone number, & age. You must keep your form. We will keep a copy of it.
23 Wed
Everyone in the club must be 8 or older. (exept) for pets & visitors. We have bandaids
24 Thurs
& bandages if you get hurt. If you have to use the bathroom go in through the
25 Fri
back door. (go down the steps)
26 Sat
TRAMPOLINE RULES
27 Sun
only 2 people on at a time, don't jump off.
28 Mon
Don't tell anyone the password if you are a Bo Weevil.
29 Tues
We will eat little snacks of the following:
30 Wed
cookies
water
crackers
coke (maybe)
candy
pecans
31 Thurs
Our Club Flower:
Morning Glory
which means:
1 Fri
symbol of promise, love, kindness
2 Sat
There will be no dues. It is a free
3 Sun
club. If we go to Hodges, you
4 Mon
have to bring your own money. (all we by is candy & coke & chips for the club.)
5 Tues
Every time we have a meeting, Amy calls roll. If you are absent, we will mark it down.
6 Wed
When we have a meeting, if that day is your B.D., you get to draw out of the Surprise bag.
7 Thurs
When we have a conversation, we must take turns discussing things.
8 Fri
CLUB DIARY
today we set up the club. No one has come yet, but Michelle is coming over Fri. 15th. She will help me.
9 Sat
We did not use the club yet.
10 Sun
I fixed the club up with tables & chairs.
11 Mon
today I got everything ready for the club. Nurse things, especially. Dara signed up.
(last entry)
written in back of book:
If you want to drop out of the club, you must sign a contract.
Good Deeds we have done:
help the teachers
support Campfire
(created a page containing a graph for Nurse checkups & listed all of my expected club members)
(created a page that was supposed to document all field trips)
(created a page for Roll Call)
date book came with map of United States in back, showing area codes. I circled Dallas, drew a big arrow toward it, and wrote "214, Dallas"
...and that's it.
Needless to say, nobody ever came to my club.
When my daughter read this, she laughed hysterically at me, took it home and all her friends read it. About a month later, she and her friend come over, wearing some custom made sports jerseys, and handed one to me. They are white, with navy stripes, numbered on the back, and in big yellow letters on the front they say BO- WEEVILS.
I am #1. Just so you know.
I was 10 years old. My dad had just built some stairs outside that led up to his gambling room, so the crooks wouldn't have to come in through the house. At the base of these stairs was a smooth block of concrete that I claimed and called the Mr. Bill Skating Rink, but that's a different story. These stairs were supported by big metal poles that I was fascinated with. I would sit in my pecan tree and imagine what it would be like to slide down one, would I get hurt? I never found out. I had decided that these new stairs, the space underneath and the landing on top, would make the perfect location for a club.
My mom was saving this little book all these years, and it was unearthed a few months ago along with my diary. When I first read this, I was shocked. Was I really that much of a little nerd? My mom says it's more like I was a little nazi, enforcing good behavior. She said in reality, my older sister Dara was the boss, so I was always looking for ways to feel in control. Thus, The Bo Weevil Club.
(in front cover I wrote:)
Blood Type: O Negative
Allergic To: school, boys, doctors
December 1979
10 Mon
Kristi- Member
Michelle- Leader
Gloria- Member
Janet- Member
Pam- Member
11 Tues
Dara- ARCN
Amy- Leader
Tiffany- Secretary
Nippy- Entertainer
Max- Helper
12 Wed
Tamba- Entertainer
Dawn- Janitor
Teresa- Member
Terri- Vice President
Holi & John- Members
Julie- Vice Boss
(a few pages torn out)
20 Thurs
RULES
No Fighting
(spitting, throwing, yelling, or hitting.)
21 Fri
YOU MUST USE YOUR PASSWORD TO GET IN
(the password is)
BO WEEVIL
22 Sat
Don't slide down the poles
23 Sun
Let the nurse help you if you get hurt.
24 Mon
RULES con't.
If you are a Bo Weevil (Club Member), you must obey the rules or you will be kicked out.
25 Tues
NO BOYS ALLOWED !!
26 Wed
Don't innerrupt when someone's talking. Be interested in what they say.
27 Thurs
If you are afraid of dogs, don't run from Nippy is a nice dog and won't bite. She mite smell you alot.
28 Fri
CLUB PETS
Nippy
Max
Tamba
Dawn
29 Sat
Bo Weevil (secret code)
BO WEEVIL
30 Sun
(wrote a series of characters that look like heiroglyphics, could be the code?)
31 Mon
DAYS
Gossip Day
talk about other people
1 Tues
Joke Day
tell jokes
2 Wed
Game Day
play games
3 Thurs
Play Day
play stuff
4 Fri
P.E. Day
Jump on trampoline, do exersises & climb & skate
5 Sat
Make Day
make things
6 Sun
Pet Day
honer the pets
7 Mon
Tips for earning a prize
Please try to bring little things to decorate the club.
8 Tues
When we play games, if you win, you get a prize
9 Wed
Help clean up the club
10 Thurs
Don't get on the roof without permission
11 Fri
Games We Play
Duck, Duck Goose
feel in the bag
Who's gone?
Seven Up
12 Sat
Around the World
Hide N' Seek
13 Sun
Thump Party
Don't Wet Your Pants
14 Mon
A Bo Weevil's Promise
(memorise)
15 Tues
As a Bo Weevil, I will always do my best. I will share with others. I am a true Bo Weevil.
16 Wed
Our Colors
Brown
White
Lavender.
17 Thurs
What Our Flag Looks Like
(drew a picture of a very cute bug with 8 arms, 4 legs, antennas and a smile on a flag with stripes)
18 Fri
JOKES
knock-knock.
who's there?
Nuna.
Nuna who?
Nuna Buisness.
19 Sat
Did you hear about the doggie who thought cheerios were donut seeds?
21 Mon
HOW TO GET IN
let the leaders fill you out a form saying name, telephone,
22 Tues
phone number, & age. You must keep your form. We will keep a copy of it.
23 Wed
Everyone in the club must be 8 or older. (exept) for pets & visitors. We have bandaids
24 Thurs
& bandages if you get hurt. If you have to use the bathroom go in through the
25 Fri
back door. (go down the steps)
26 Sat
TRAMPOLINE RULES
27 Sun
only 2 people on at a time, don't jump off.
28 Mon
Don't tell anyone the password if you are a Bo Weevil.
29 Tues
We will eat little snacks of the following:
30 Wed
cookies
water
crackers
coke (maybe)
candy
pecans
31 Thurs
Our Club Flower:
Morning Glory
which means:
1 Fri
symbol of promise, love, kindness
2 Sat
There will be no dues. It is a free
3 Sun
club. If we go to Hodges, you
4 Mon
have to bring your own money. (all we by is candy & coke & chips for the club.)
5 Tues
Every time we have a meeting, Amy calls roll. If you are absent, we will mark it down.
6 Wed
When we have a meeting, if that day is your B.D., you get to draw out of the Surprise bag.
7 Thurs
When we have a conversation, we must take turns discussing things.
8 Fri
CLUB DIARY
today we set up the club. No one has come yet, but Michelle is coming over Fri. 15th. She will help me.
9 Sat
We did not use the club yet.
10 Sun
I fixed the club up with tables & chairs.
11 Mon
today I got everything ready for the club. Nurse things, especially. Dara signed up.
(last entry)
written in back of book:
If you want to drop out of the club, you must sign a contract.
Good Deeds we have done:
help the teachers
support Campfire
(created a page containing a graph for Nurse checkups & listed all of my expected club members)
(created a page that was supposed to document all field trips)
(created a page for Roll Call)
date book came with map of United States in back, showing area codes. I circled Dallas, drew a big arrow toward it, and wrote "214, Dallas"
...and that's it.
Needless to say, nobody ever came to my club.
When my daughter read this, she laughed hysterically at me, took it home and all her friends read it. About a month later, she and her friend come over, wearing some custom made sports jerseys, and handed one to me. They are white, with navy stripes, numbered on the back, and in big yellow letters on the front they say BO- WEEVILS.
I am #1. Just so you know.
February 19 - the end, 1981
February 19
Dear Diary,
Today was a B-. When I got home from school, just then Mommy told me to babysit Joe and Valerie. She wouldn't even let me eat! I played softball with Colleen and Dara. Then I came in and took a bath & washed my hair. This week has gone by so fast! Tomorrow's already going to be Friday! Amy
February 20
Dear Diary,
Today was horrible. When I came home from school, Me & Dara had to babysit. Michelle came over & we jumped with Val. I was going to tell Mommy she was coming over & Mommy didn't already know she was already here and we were going to put Michelle outside, and right after we called over at her house & just then, she would walk in the door. But bitchy Dara spoiled it. Michelle almost had to go home cause I forgot to feed Valerie.
February 27
Dear Diary,
sorry I haven't written in you so long. Today I went to Dr. Longly & got 4 teeth pulled, then I got stitches. Amy
March 1
Dear Diary,
Jonathan loves me. I saw him at the skating rink. He asked me for couples. He's adorable! Since we're moving at the end of the year I'm going to tell him I love him. Amy
March 3
Dear Diary,
I'm not going to tell Mommy, but 1 stitch came out of my mouth. It's not bad, because it's allmost healed up. Eric...that boy likes me. I can't stand him! Yuck! He wrote me this:
(drew a sketch of a piece of notebook paper that says our names at the top, then the words "I love you")
March 9
Dear Diary,
So sorry I haven't written in you for so long!! I got 4 teeth pulled, Pres. Reagan was shot, and I got a job! Me and Sissy G. design cards for Hallmark! Amy
>note: Sissy took one of my drawings to her mom, who showed it to a friend, who had supposed connections to the greeting card industry and who had the idea of using children's art for a line of card designs. It never panned out. Nothing more was said about it. However, I repeatedly asked Sissy about it, day after day, until she had to ask me to quit asking. This brought on untold frustration in my life, planting a deep need to create greeting cards one day, just to make it happen. It finally did. At the age of 29 I designed my own strange little line, got a copier/printer, and churned them out, all on my own. Sold a few. Just enough to say I did it. Then, like with everything else, I got rid of the copier and trashed the designs. Recently my grandmother unearthed a box full of these designs, and I was about to dispose of them the other day, until my mom grabbed it and took it to her room to hide them, saying, "No!" <
March 10
Songs From Camp:
1) Weenie Man
I know a weenie man, he owns a weenie stand
He sells most anything, from hotdogs, on down the line
Someday I'll change his life
I'll be his weenie-wife
Oh how I love that weenie man!
hot dog, o boy, almond joy, what a slueth, baby ruth, humdinger butterfinger, that's all, Peter Paul
2) Ragtime Cowboy
(left this blank, abandoned song listing)
July 17
Dear Diary,
I'm ashamed that I haven't written in you for 3 months. I had an operation on my foot again. They put a metal deelybopper in. Every 2 weeks I go in and he turns them. That makes my toe long! I went to camp also, Camp Tres Rios. We had so much fun! My favorite counselor is Big Tex. I have started to develop. I don't like it either! Dr. Gray said that I'd get my period sometime this year. We moved to DeSoto on Post Oak Lane. And I'm going to go to DeSoto Intermediate. Also, I'm going to be in band. I'm going to play the flute. I got lots of new clothes. Laura came back from France a couple days ago. She's my piano teacher's grandaughter. MiYoung's coming over at 9:00 tonight. We got Veu. We're going to get cable. Love, Amy
WHOEVER IS READING THIS, I HOPE THE WORST OF YOU! But if I'm dead and you're one of those archelogists, please make me famous like Anne Frank. Just don't let my mom see it. (She might be dead, too!)
October 10
Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy B.D. Dear Amy, Happy birthday to me!
November 1
Dear Diary,
December 27
Gregg's birthday
(written in the back pages:)
Hiding Places
behind the entry desk
under the entry desk
in my closet
under my bed
in Val's room
in the kitchen
in Mommy's room
People to Hide From:
Elissa, and all
Sonny & little kids
Mommy forgot to punish me for not doing my drawers neat. HA HA HA HA HA HA
Birthdays:
me 10-10
Dara 5-22
Mommy 10-17
Daddy 10-4 good buddy
Max 8-26
Valerie 6-11
Joe 9-30
Tamba ?
Simbatu 10-16
Dear Diary,
Today was a B-. When I got home from school, just then Mommy told me to babysit Joe and Valerie. She wouldn't even let me eat! I played softball with Colleen and Dara. Then I came in and took a bath & washed my hair. This week has gone by so fast! Tomorrow's already going to be Friday! Amy
February 20
Dear Diary,
Today was horrible. When I came home from school, Me & Dara had to babysit. Michelle came over & we jumped with Val. I was going to tell Mommy she was coming over & Mommy didn't already know she was already here and we were going to put Michelle outside, and right after we called over at her house & just then, she would walk in the door. But bitchy Dara spoiled it. Michelle almost had to go home cause I forgot to feed Valerie.
February 27
Dear Diary,
sorry I haven't written in you so long. Today I went to Dr. Longly & got 4 teeth pulled, then I got stitches. Amy
March 1
Dear Diary,
Jonathan loves me. I saw him at the skating rink. He asked me for couples. He's adorable! Since we're moving at the end of the year I'm going to tell him I love him. Amy
March 3
Dear Diary,
I'm not going to tell Mommy, but 1 stitch came out of my mouth. It's not bad, because it's allmost healed up. Eric...that boy likes me. I can't stand him! Yuck! He wrote me this:
(drew a sketch of a piece of notebook paper that says our names at the top, then the words "I love you")
March 9
Dear Diary,
So sorry I haven't written in you for so long!! I got 4 teeth pulled, Pres. Reagan was shot, and I got a job! Me and Sissy G. design cards for Hallmark! Amy
>note: Sissy took one of my drawings to her mom, who showed it to a friend, who had supposed connections to the greeting card industry and who had the idea of using children's art for a line of card designs. It never panned out. Nothing more was said about it. However, I repeatedly asked Sissy about it, day after day, until she had to ask me to quit asking. This brought on untold frustration in my life, planting a deep need to create greeting cards one day, just to make it happen. It finally did. At the age of 29 I designed my own strange little line, got a copier/printer, and churned them out, all on my own. Sold a few. Just enough to say I did it. Then, like with everything else, I got rid of the copier and trashed the designs. Recently my grandmother unearthed a box full of these designs, and I was about to dispose of them the other day, until my mom grabbed it and took it to her room to hide them, saying, "No!" <
March 10
Songs From Camp:
1) Weenie Man
I know a weenie man, he owns a weenie stand
He sells most anything, from hotdogs, on down the line
Someday I'll change his life
I'll be his weenie-wife
Oh how I love that weenie man!
hot dog, o boy, almond joy, what a slueth, baby ruth, humdinger butterfinger, that's all, Peter Paul
2) Ragtime Cowboy
(left this blank, abandoned song listing)
July 17
Dear Diary,
I'm ashamed that I haven't written in you for 3 months. I had an operation on my foot again. They put a metal deelybopper in. Every 2 weeks I go in and he turns them. That makes my toe long! I went to camp also, Camp Tres Rios. We had so much fun! My favorite counselor is Big Tex. I have started to develop. I don't like it either! Dr. Gray said that I'd get my period sometime this year. We moved to DeSoto on Post Oak Lane. And I'm going to go to DeSoto Intermediate. Also, I'm going to be in band. I'm going to play the flute. I got lots of new clothes. Laura came back from France a couple days ago. She's my piano teacher's grandaughter. MiYoung's coming over at 9:00 tonight. We got Veu. We're going to get cable. Love, Amy
WHOEVER IS READING THIS, I HOPE THE WORST OF YOU! But if I'm dead and you're one of those archelogists, please make me famous like Anne Frank. Just don't let my mom see it. (She might be dead, too!)
October 10
Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy B.D. Dear Amy, Happy birthday to me!
November 1
Dear Diary,
December 27
Gregg's birthday
(written in the back pages:)
Hiding Places
behind the entry desk
under the entry desk
in my closet
under my bed
in Val's room
in the kitchen
in Mommy's room
People to Hide From:
Elissa, and all
Sonny & little kids
Mommy forgot to punish me for not doing my drawers neat. HA HA HA HA HA HA
Birthdays:
me 10-10
Dara 5-22
Mommy 10-17
Daddy 10-4 good buddy
Max 8-26
Valerie 6-11
Joe 9-30
Tamba ?
Simbatu 10-16
February 9 - 18, 1981
February 9
(drew a cartoon picture of me & Jonathan kissing. by the way, Jonathan never liked me. I liked him. Eric, however, had a flaming crush on me, and of course, I detested him. Story of my life.)
February 10
Dear Diary,
Today I got a 100 on my math test. We all went down to Sister Paula Marie's office & got candy. While going down, I asked Mark what he got on his, and it flew away and I grabbed it, but missed it, & ended up squeezing a fourth grade boy's butt! Love, Amy
February 11
Brrrr....
Dear Diary,
It has been so cold! This morning it was so cold, I got my clothes out and changed into my uniform undercovers! Now I know for sure Jonathan likes me. He always stares at me and gives me paper & all that. Now my favorite number is 22 because:
A.-1, M.-13, Y.-23
+
J.-10, O.-15, N.-14, A.-1, T.-20, H.-8, A.-1, N.-14
And our initials added up make 22.
February 12
Dear Diary,
Today I had fun. Tomorrow, all of the girls are going to wear pony-tails & red ribbons. Yesterday, we wore pig-tails and green ribbons. I made a 100 on my math test! Right now, I am in my room listening to "Cars." My cat Max is laying here & I think he likes the soft beat. Sometimes I get scared at night, so Max always sleeps with me. Love, Amy
Friday!
February 13
Dear Diary,
Today was terrible! First of all, Eric told me to stick it, and then called me a bitch. I hate that bastard! Dara is a freak. Amy
February 14
Dear Diary,
Me & Kristi made a berry factory. We each have an office, & we make berries. Not for real, but for pretend. Today, me & all went to Susie's house. Me & Dara played 2 games of pool, & I won the first, she won the second. Bye, Amy
February 15
Dear Diary,
I'll tell you my dream I had last night. We were all in the house, and war started. (Our enemy I didn't know.) Soldiers came busting down houses. Finally, they came to ours. We were carried off to camp in big trucks. I have been having weird dreams lately! Love, Amy
February 16
I hate Mondays, but not this one!
Dear Diary,
Today was okay. On P.E., we played B.B.S., and the other team won. Mrs. Witte asked me to make a sign. The school made me the artist. When I came home, me & Kristi played berry factory. I made a 100 in Science, & a 63 in Social Studies. Bye, Amy
February 17
Dear Diary,
too tired to write tonight. anyway, it was a boring day zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
February 18
Dear Diary,
Today was fun. After school, I played softball with Kristi. Then Greg came over and he played too. I think I don't love Jonathan anymore. He's still a good friend, but he is not as athletic as Greg. I must be a two-timer, but I think I like Greg now. I don't know if he likes me or not. Amy
(drew a cartoon picture of me & Jonathan kissing. by the way, Jonathan never liked me. I liked him. Eric, however, had a flaming crush on me, and of course, I detested him. Story of my life.)
February 10
Dear Diary,
Today I got a 100 on my math test. We all went down to Sister Paula Marie's office & got candy. While going down, I asked Mark what he got on his, and it flew away and I grabbed it, but missed it, & ended up squeezing a fourth grade boy's butt! Love, Amy
February 11
Brrrr....
Dear Diary,
It has been so cold! This morning it was so cold, I got my clothes out and changed into my uniform undercovers! Now I know for sure Jonathan likes me. He always stares at me and gives me paper & all that. Now my favorite number is 22 because:
A.-1, M.-13, Y.-23
+
J.-10, O.-15, N.-14, A.-1, T.-20, H.-8, A.-1, N.-14
And our initials added up make 22.
February 12
Dear Diary,
Today I had fun. Tomorrow, all of the girls are going to wear pony-tails & red ribbons. Yesterday, we wore pig-tails and green ribbons. I made a 100 on my math test! Right now, I am in my room listening to "Cars." My cat Max is laying here & I think he likes the soft beat. Sometimes I get scared at night, so Max always sleeps with me. Love, Amy
Friday!
February 13
Dear Diary,
Today was terrible! First of all, Eric told me to stick it, and then called me a bitch. I hate that bastard! Dara is a freak. Amy
February 14
Dear Diary,
Me & Kristi made a berry factory. We each have an office, & we make berries. Not for real, but for pretend. Today, me & all went to Susie's house. Me & Dara played 2 games of pool, & I won the first, she won the second. Bye, Amy
February 15
Dear Diary,
I'll tell you my dream I had last night. We were all in the house, and war started. (Our enemy I didn't know.) Soldiers came busting down houses. Finally, they came to ours. We were carried off to camp in big trucks. I have been having weird dreams lately! Love, Amy
February 16
I hate Mondays, but not this one!
Dear Diary,
Today was okay. On P.E., we played B.B.S., and the other team won. Mrs. Witte asked me to make a sign. The school made me the artist. When I came home, me & Kristi played berry factory. I made a 100 in Science, & a 63 in Social Studies. Bye, Amy
February 17
Dear Diary,
too tired to write tonight. anyway, it was a boring day zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
February 18
Dear Diary,
Today was fun. After school, I played softball with Kristi. Then Greg came over and he played too. I think I don't love Jonathan anymore. He's still a good friend, but he is not as athletic as Greg. I must be a two-timer, but I think I like Greg now. I don't know if he likes me or not. Amy
my anti-drug rant
wrote this about a month ago, with my daughter's friends in mind, and a few of mine too
Alright, kids. Let's talk about drugs, shall we? Who here enjoys a little smoke now & then? Who here lights up on a daily basis? Who here believes that it's harmless? People, weed may be "natural", but that does not mean that it was created to be smoked in order to produce a mental high. Oh, what do I know about drugs? (And yes, marijuana IS a drug...) Well, let's just say that I have done everything short of putting a needle in my arm, and that's only because of my fear of needles. I know where you're at, peeps. I've done it all. Tripped acid. Snorted cocaine. shrooms, hash, ecsatasy, crank, and lots and lots of weed. And whatever else was passed to me, I didn't care. So listen to me, people. I know the need to escape, ok? And I'm not here to preach. I'm here to share some truth with you. Because I care. First off, let me tell you about Leah's Uncle Joe, my little brother. You guys know about him? If you're from DeSoto, surely you remember hearing about it. New Year's Eve, 1997. The wreck that had I-35 backed up for miles and miles. He was 17 years old. He was killed when the Jeep Cherokee he was driving flipped over, throwing him out the window. He was crushed. The Jeep flipped as a result of he and his friend attempting to switch places, while they were driving. How idiotic, right? Well, that's pretty much how Joe was towards the end. Before he got into drugs, he was a brilliant, hillarious, friendly, social, and athletic guy. Everybody loved Joe. Then, around the age of 16, he started to smoke a little weed. Just a little. But, as usual, this evolved, ever so slowly, into other things. By the time Joe died, he was taking horse tranquilizers mixed with Vodka. He turned into a total idiot. People, do you understand how weed works? It may be true that it's not physically addictive, but it affects the inhibition area of the brain, well duh, that's why it makes you feel so relaxed. Listen. Guard your brain. Protect your mind. Weed DOES kill off brain cells. Stop and think about it. WHY would you want to do that? Why? Do you people even realize how PRECIOUS your mind is? I am just recovering from a 7-month stint with west nile virus. It went straight to my brain. For months I could not think straight, I had virtually NO short-term memory, no desire to do anything, no determination, no drive, no motivation, and no joy. I know what it is to have a mind that does not work, and now, I will never take my brain for granted, ever again. Your mind is a beautiful thing, ya'll. It's a miracle, and here we stupid humans are, polluting it and messing it up. WEED IS NOT HARMLESS. That is a LIE. It will pull you in deeper....and it does not stop there. You guys all know that I am a die-hard Christian. I want to tell you that using any substance that interferes with the normal processes of the mind is, in the eyes of God, a form of witchcraft. Yeah, you heard that right. He calls it "an abomination" and "detestable". Why? Because you are screwing with the dark side when you use drugs. People, it goes beyond the physical. When you use drugs, you are opening your mind to a whole different dimension. Imagine opening a forbidden door in your mind. That's exactly what's happening. It's a doorway and it allows the enemy access to your mind. People, I have seen things you would not believe. I have seen demons, and so did my brother. I will leave you with this story, something Joe told me before he died. He came over to my house one evening, really messed up and really frightened. He described to me something that had just happened to him. He was getting stoned out of his mind, as usual, laying on the hood of a car with his friend. And then he had this incredible experience: He found himself outside of his body, and standing in the presence of Jesus. The Lord said to Joe, "Why are you doing this to yourself, Joe?" He pointed to the car, and Joe looked, and saw his body, it appeared dead! His friend was beside him, panicking and trying to revive him. Again, Jesus asked, "Why are you doing this, Joe?" Then, a second later, Joe was back inside his body, and his friend said, "Dude, I thought you were dead!!" It turns out, what Joe saw on the hood really took place. No, this was not a hallucination. This was a true spiritual encounter. It happens. People, we are not meant to pollute our minds and our bodies. You were lovingly created, and for a purpose! Don't subdue yourself, don't allow yourself to believe the lie. We are lied to. We are told that it's all ok, that it's good for you to just lie back and chill. Just chill your way thru life. Listen, it's BETTER to be awake. It's BETTER to feel. It may be harder, but it's worth it. You are SO LOVED. You are SO VALUED. You are CHERISHED by God! So stop with the smoke already! It ain't worth it. It's dangerous. love you. ♥
WHO CONTROLS YOU? The thief (Satan) cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I (Jesus) am come that they may have life and that they might have it more abundantly." John 10:10
the following info is taken from http://www.lionofzion.com/
The most common argument within the church against any sort of use of marijuana is the "Pharmakeia argument". Although this argument can be heard in almost any church, it is hard to recognize in a casual Bible reading. In order to come to the conclusion of the Pharmakeia argument one needs to study the original Koinne Greek Bible text. Pharmakeia is a Greek word found in the New Testament that means medication, pharmacy, magic, sorcery and witchcraft. Its root is pharmakon which refers to a druggist, pharmacist, poisoner, magician or sorcerer. God clearly states that Pharmakeia (the use of drugs) is a sin in Galatians 5:19-20a; "The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft" (Pharmakeia). Most people are shocked when they learn that this verse refers to drug use. Contrary to popular belief, marijuana is not a new drug. In fact, just recently marijuana ashes were found in a fourth-century tomb. The drug was believed to have been smoked by a pregnant teenager sixteen hundred years ago. Some documentations of marijuana use date back as far as the nineteenth century B.C. The popularity and use of marijuana has increased within the past few years. This pattern of today's intensified drug use was prophesied almost two thousand years ago in the book of Revelation. There are three passages in this book that speak directly about Pharmakeia, Revelation 9:21; 21:8; and 22:15....We conclude that God is very serious about how he deals with this sin. Marijuana is a hallucinogenic (Funk and Wagnalls 445). This is one of the reasons why using it is sorcery and witchcraft. With the use of drugs, you are opening yourself up to all sorts of spiritual attacks and seducing spirits. Mind altering drugs are used in witchcraft to alter your reality. This can be very dangerous. This is why God calls us to be sober and avoid attacks from Satan (I Peter 5:8). This implies that if we are high, we cannot avoid attacks from the evil one. Marijuana is clearly a stronghold that Satan has used on this world for many generations. God can deliver and heal one from an addiction to marijuana. The truth can be found only through faithfully studying the word of God. "The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever." (Isaiah 40:8)
Alright, kids. Let's talk about drugs, shall we? Who here enjoys a little smoke now & then? Who here lights up on a daily basis? Who here believes that it's harmless? People, weed may be "natural", but that does not mean that it was created to be smoked in order to produce a mental high. Oh, what do I know about drugs? (And yes, marijuana IS a drug...) Well, let's just say that I have done everything short of putting a needle in my arm, and that's only because of my fear of needles. I know where you're at, peeps. I've done it all. Tripped acid. Snorted cocaine. shrooms, hash, ecsatasy, crank, and lots and lots of weed. And whatever else was passed to me, I didn't care. So listen to me, people. I know the need to escape, ok? And I'm not here to preach. I'm here to share some truth with you. Because I care. First off, let me tell you about Leah's Uncle Joe, my little brother. You guys know about him? If you're from DeSoto, surely you remember hearing about it. New Year's Eve, 1997. The wreck that had I-35 backed up for miles and miles. He was 17 years old. He was killed when the Jeep Cherokee he was driving flipped over, throwing him out the window. He was crushed. The Jeep flipped as a result of he and his friend attempting to switch places, while they were driving. How idiotic, right? Well, that's pretty much how Joe was towards the end. Before he got into drugs, he was a brilliant, hillarious, friendly, social, and athletic guy. Everybody loved Joe. Then, around the age of 16, he started to smoke a little weed. Just a little. But, as usual, this evolved, ever so slowly, into other things. By the time Joe died, he was taking horse tranquilizers mixed with Vodka. He turned into a total idiot. People, do you understand how weed works? It may be true that it's not physically addictive, but it affects the inhibition area of the brain, well duh, that's why it makes you feel so relaxed. Listen. Guard your brain. Protect your mind. Weed DOES kill off brain cells. Stop and think about it. WHY would you want to do that? Why? Do you people even realize how PRECIOUS your mind is? I am just recovering from a 7-month stint with west nile virus. It went straight to my brain. For months I could not think straight, I had virtually NO short-term memory, no desire to do anything, no determination, no drive, no motivation, and no joy. I know what it is to have a mind that does not work, and now, I will never take my brain for granted, ever again. Your mind is a beautiful thing, ya'll. It's a miracle, and here we stupid humans are, polluting it and messing it up. WEED IS NOT HARMLESS. That is a LIE. It will pull you in deeper....and it does not stop there. You guys all know that I am a die-hard Christian. I want to tell you that using any substance that interferes with the normal processes of the mind is, in the eyes of God, a form of witchcraft. Yeah, you heard that right. He calls it "an abomination" and "detestable". Why? Because you are screwing with the dark side when you use drugs. People, it goes beyond the physical. When you use drugs, you are opening your mind to a whole different dimension. Imagine opening a forbidden door in your mind. That's exactly what's happening. It's a doorway and it allows the enemy access to your mind. People, I have seen things you would not believe. I have seen demons, and so did my brother. I will leave you with this story, something Joe told me before he died. He came over to my house one evening, really messed up and really frightened. He described to me something that had just happened to him. He was getting stoned out of his mind, as usual, laying on the hood of a car with his friend. And then he had this incredible experience: He found himself outside of his body, and standing in the presence of Jesus. The Lord said to Joe, "Why are you doing this to yourself, Joe?" He pointed to the car, and Joe looked, and saw his body, it appeared dead! His friend was beside him, panicking and trying to revive him. Again, Jesus asked, "Why are you doing this, Joe?" Then, a second later, Joe was back inside his body, and his friend said, "Dude, I thought you were dead!!" It turns out, what Joe saw on the hood really took place. No, this was not a hallucination. This was a true spiritual encounter. It happens. People, we are not meant to pollute our minds and our bodies. You were lovingly created, and for a purpose! Don't subdue yourself, don't allow yourself to believe the lie. We are lied to. We are told that it's all ok, that it's good for you to just lie back and chill. Just chill your way thru life. Listen, it's BETTER to be awake. It's BETTER to feel. It may be harder, but it's worth it. You are SO LOVED. You are SO VALUED. You are CHERISHED by God! So stop with the smoke already! It ain't worth it. It's dangerous. love you. ♥
WHO CONTROLS YOU? The thief (Satan) cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I (Jesus) am come that they may have life and that they might have it more abundantly." John 10:10
the following info is taken from http://www.lionofzion.com/
The most common argument within the church against any sort of use of marijuana is the "Pharmakeia argument". Although this argument can be heard in almost any church, it is hard to recognize in a casual Bible reading. In order to come to the conclusion of the Pharmakeia argument one needs to study the original Koinne Greek Bible text. Pharmakeia is a Greek word found in the New Testament that means medication, pharmacy, magic, sorcery and witchcraft. Its root is pharmakon which refers to a druggist, pharmacist, poisoner, magician or sorcerer. God clearly states that Pharmakeia (the use of drugs) is a sin in Galatians 5:19-20a; "The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft" (Pharmakeia). Most people are shocked when they learn that this verse refers to drug use. Contrary to popular belief, marijuana is not a new drug. In fact, just recently marijuana ashes were found in a fourth-century tomb. The drug was believed to have been smoked by a pregnant teenager sixteen hundred years ago. Some documentations of marijuana use date back as far as the nineteenth century B.C. The popularity and use of marijuana has increased within the past few years. This pattern of today's intensified drug use was prophesied almost two thousand years ago in the book of Revelation. There are three passages in this book that speak directly about Pharmakeia, Revelation 9:21; 21:8; and 22:15....We conclude that God is very serious about how he deals with this sin. Marijuana is a hallucinogenic (Funk and Wagnalls 445). This is one of the reasons why using it is sorcery and witchcraft. With the use of drugs, you are opening yourself up to all sorts of spiritual attacks and seducing spirits. Mind altering drugs are used in witchcraft to alter your reality. This can be very dangerous. This is why God calls us to be sober and avoid attacks from Satan (I Peter 5:8). This implies that if we are high, we cannot avoid attacks from the evil one. Marijuana is clearly a stronghold that Satan has used on this world for many generations. God can deliver and heal one from an addiction to marijuana. The truth can be found only through faithfully studying the word of God. "The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever." (Isaiah 40:8)
January 25 - February 8, 1981
January 25
Dear Diary,
Today was B+! First I made a cake. It was a layer cake with custard filling, and dark chocolate frosting. Then I washed my hair & took a bath. Me and Mommy went to Skagg's & got ten thousand groceries! When we got home, I helped Mommy with dinner. We had a Chineese dinner. It was so good! We had curried meatballs, and broccoly & mushrooms. I got a scripto and an erasable pen. Love, Amy
January 26
Dear Diary,
I hate Mondays! First of all, the Bobbits are always late. Then after school, me and Dara got into a fight. Then when we came home, Dara was feeding the dogs and the puppy got his hand (paw) stuck in the door and Dara tried to help get it out, it bit her. Now she has cuts all over her hands!
I had tons of math homework! For dinner we had stuffed cabbage rolls. PS- We had a dum substitute. Her name is Mrs. Beecher.
January 27
Dear Diary,
Today was fun! Again, we had dumb old Mrs. Beecher. She's about 70 years old! After school, Mommy picked me up early from school to go to the library. I checked out books on turtles for the Science fair. I made a clay model of the Statue of Liberty. It's really neat! We have to turn them in tomorrow. I think mine's the best! It's a grayish-brown. Well, see you tomorrow, Amy sorry so sloppy
January 28
Dear Diary,
Today was good. Of course, I was late for school because of the Bobbits. I had tardy hall, and forgot to report. Now it will be doubled tomorrow. I really don't care because we stay after school 30 minutes anyway. Sharon came over and toght (excuse my spelling) us how to french braid. Tomorrow morning Mommy is going to french braid me & Dara's hair. I might look stupid! Love, A.
(a few pages torn out)
January 31
Dear Diary,
Today I went to the mall with Pam. I got a bag of candy, and another Mr. Bill pin. Right now I'm spending the night with Michelle. Love, Amy
February 1
Dear Diary,
This morning we had eggs, toast, and french fries. We went skating and I saw Jonathan.
February 2
Dear Diary,
Today is the beginning of Catholic Schools Week. Everyone has to bring pictures of relatives or parents who went to a Catholic school. There are footprints made of construction paper all over the school walls, with last names of everyone on them. Jonathan loves me, and I love him. We are going steady, he is so good looking! Love, Amy
February 3
Dear Diary,
Today I did my math homework on the calculator. The teacher doesn't mind, cause she doesn't know! Ha-Ha. I just finished my book, "The Great Gilly Hopkins". It was so good! About an orphan who steals 100 dollars and runs away to her real mom. Love, Amy
February 4
Dear Diary,
Today I was assigned "Class Artist". Everyone comes around my desk at art to ask for me to do their work for them. I say no because if they never learn art, then they'll keep coming! Well, Love, bye, see ya, Amy
February 5
Dear Diary,
My friends who I eat lunch with & play with are: Leslie, Janie, Colleen, Gretchen, and Jennifer. I just found out that Jennifer is having a slumber party, and didn't invite me. They had a vote, and voted me out. They say I'm a tag-a-long. Golley, they're bitches!
(a few more pages torn out)
February 8
Dear Diary,
I found out that Eric's grandmother is friends with Aunt Mary, and the grandmom corrects our reading folders, let Mary correct some. I got a bad grade. Well, tomorrow is Monday. I hate some Mondays, but not all. Today Michelle took me to see 9 To 5 again. Starring: Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda, & Dolly Parton. Love, Amy
Dear Diary,
Today was B+! First I made a cake. It was a layer cake with custard filling, and dark chocolate frosting. Then I washed my hair & took a bath. Me and Mommy went to Skagg's & got ten thousand groceries! When we got home, I helped Mommy with dinner. We had a Chineese dinner. It was so good! We had curried meatballs, and broccoly & mushrooms. I got a scripto and an erasable pen. Love, Amy
January 26
Dear Diary,
I hate Mondays! First of all, the Bobbits are always late. Then after school, me and Dara got into a fight. Then when we came home, Dara was feeding the dogs and the puppy got his hand (paw) stuck in the door and Dara tried to help get it out, it bit her. Now she has cuts all over her hands!
I had tons of math homework! For dinner we had stuffed cabbage rolls. PS- We had a dum substitute. Her name is Mrs. Beecher.
January 27
Dear Diary,
Today was fun! Again, we had dumb old Mrs. Beecher. She's about 70 years old! After school, Mommy picked me up early from school to go to the library. I checked out books on turtles for the Science fair. I made a clay model of the Statue of Liberty. It's really neat! We have to turn them in tomorrow. I think mine's the best! It's a grayish-brown. Well, see you tomorrow, Amy sorry so sloppy
January 28
Dear Diary,
Today was good. Of course, I was late for school because of the Bobbits. I had tardy hall, and forgot to report. Now it will be doubled tomorrow. I really don't care because we stay after school 30 minutes anyway. Sharon came over and toght (excuse my spelling) us how to french braid. Tomorrow morning Mommy is going to french braid me & Dara's hair. I might look stupid! Love, A.
(a few pages torn out)
January 31
Dear Diary,
Today I went to the mall with Pam. I got a bag of candy, and another Mr. Bill pin. Right now I'm spending the night with Michelle. Love, Amy
February 1
Dear Diary,
This morning we had eggs, toast, and french fries. We went skating and I saw Jonathan.
February 2
Dear Diary,
Today is the beginning of Catholic Schools Week. Everyone has to bring pictures of relatives or parents who went to a Catholic school. There are footprints made of construction paper all over the school walls, with last names of everyone on them. Jonathan loves me, and I love him. We are going steady, he is so good looking! Love, Amy
February 3
Dear Diary,
Today I did my math homework on the calculator. The teacher doesn't mind, cause she doesn't know! Ha-Ha. I just finished my book, "The Great Gilly Hopkins". It was so good! About an orphan who steals 100 dollars and runs away to her real mom. Love, Amy
February 4
Dear Diary,
Today I was assigned "Class Artist". Everyone comes around my desk at art to ask for me to do their work for them. I say no because if they never learn art, then they'll keep coming! Well, Love, bye, see ya, Amy
February 5
Dear Diary,
My friends who I eat lunch with & play with are: Leslie, Janie, Colleen, Gretchen, and Jennifer. I just found out that Jennifer is having a slumber party, and didn't invite me. They had a vote, and voted me out. They say I'm a tag-a-long. Golley, they're bitches!
(a few more pages torn out)
February 8
Dear Diary,
I found out that Eric's grandmother is friends with Aunt Mary, and the grandmom corrects our reading folders, let Mary correct some. I got a bad grade. Well, tomorrow is Monday. I hate some Mondays, but not all. Today Michelle took me to see 9 To 5 again. Starring: Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda, & Dolly Parton. Love, Amy
some dreams
more stuff I wrote a couple months ago...
July 16, 2007 - Monday
Ok. I did it. I came out of my cave and made myself known.
I am not going to hide anymore. People can now....find me. (*shudders*)
And I just might ....listen. and maybe, just maybe....respond.
I have been unlisted for a decade. Not sure why. Maybe it had something to do with the trail of destruction I've left behind me.
Maybe it had something to do with the way I end communications with folks. It goes like this. >delete!<
And then you change your email. And phone number, if they are the persistant type.
I think it's because I haven't had the mental energy to deal with stuff, as in, other people's sides to things, other people's reasonings & what-not.
Oh wow, as I was typing that last sentence, I just remembered my dream from the other night!!
I was in a back yard. I think it was my own back yard. I was just minding my own business, and then I realized, right beside my yard, like, right on the other side of the fence, was a real live baseball game going on! With a huge field and stadium seating and the cheering crowd and everything. I was like, "Hmmmm..."
Yeah. Just standing there, aware of this pro baseball game taking place right on the other side of the fence. And then it hit me. I knew that it was only a matter of time before a baseball would come sailing over the fence and hit me....and just as I thought of this, I looked up into the sky, and sure enough, there it was, hurling through the air like a blazing comet, coming right toward my head!! I ducked, just in time, and it hit the ground beside me.
I stood back up, reached down and grabbed the baseball, opened a gate in the fence, and stepped right on to the baseball field! Walked right up near to the pitcher. Everyone was staring at me. I smiled. And threw the ball, with my hardest underhand throw, straight into the pitcher's glove. And then turned and walked back to my little yard.
When I woke up, I died laughing, thinking, how true is that! This is a perfect illustration of my life. For the most part, I mind my own business, and keep to myself, but sometimes things come at me, just random unexpected things that would ONLY happen to me. I've learned to be on the lookout for these flyballs...(is that what they're called?)...I expect them now. And I think I've learned to duck.
But the best part of that dream is, I know how to give it right back. To make the most of it. When these unexpected things happen to me, I find a way to throw one right back at life. In my own little way.
God made me small. And dingy. I somehow get away with things that the next person might not be able to pull off.
I'm really starting to love my life. I see the humor in it all, the beauty, the love, the lessons....I see all of it so much more clearly now. And I'm filled with so much love for people...I never thought my heart would feel this way. God has done something to me during this strange time, for sure. He's repaired me somehow. At first, when I started to feel again, it was terrible. It really, really sucked. But now.....I see everything so different. I just want to hug everybody!!
I'm totally cracking myself up. And here I go again, about ready to lock myself out of this account. It's my new secret weapon against myself. To keep me from deleting what I've written.
*bye for now*
I am totally going to cheat here, because this one is not my own dream. But it's so close to my heart, it might as well be. I'm going to share it, and just hope the owner of the dream doesn't see it... I should be alright. Uh, but here's my disclaimer: Hey you big lug, I have a big mouth and I tell stories about everybody, ok?? And it was *MY* prayer for you so I should get to tell it.
An old friend of mine, actually an old boyfriend, endures a lot of stress in his life. He builds custom motorcycles with his brother and is the most exhausted person I know. He is so wrapped up in this business, which is great and all, but you see, he's a musician. A good one. A brilliant one. And he needs to be reminded to keep his music alive. By me. (That's my job.)
He's special. Because, for one thing, he was with me when a very amazing thing happened to me. Right after I got saved, a helmet was delivered to my head, just seconds before I crashed into a table. I hit my left temple so hard that it knocked me to the ground, but there was no injury...because this motorcycle helmet was just brought in, just minutes earlier, by these...guys.....and one of them just put it right on my head! For no reason! But that's another story. Anyway, Jason (ha! I am so FREAKING TIRED of not naming names!) was dancing with me when this happened, he saw it all. Well, how could he not, when he was the one who (ahem) sort of threw me (accidentally) into the table...
So, he's a special one, not only for being with me for my first amazing event, but because he was by my side during a very difficult time, when I was 18. I have never forgotten his kindness towards me.
So...I am now attempting to get to my point.... a couple of years ago, he was totally tired and stressed. One night I prayed for him. I mean, prayed my heart out. I don't think I had ever prayed for him like this. I was very specific with God. I asked Him to show Jason EXACTLY where he's at in life. In the form of a dream. Don't ask me why I requested a dream, it just came out....
The next day we got together, just to catch up & say hello & what-not. As we're walking around the shop, he's showing me the new custom cars he was working on, and some very inappropriate pictures on the wall, he says, just out of the blue, "Amy, I had a strange dream last night."
My heart started pounding, the way it does when I know something's up. I played dumb and was like, "Oh yeah? What was it?"
He then proceeded to tell me, "I never dream....because I never sleep...but this was incredible....I was standing in front of a channel of water. I stood and looked at it, and then, I was in the water. I was trying to swim the channel, and then a huge whale appeared...it came up and blocked my way....I didn't know what to do..."
My heart was beating like crazy. I was so totally into this....
He said, "And then, just out of the blue, I find myself leaping OVER the whale, through the air! I just sailed right on over it!"
He was smiling when he told this part, and I died laughing, for I already knew the meaning. But I remained quiet. Had to go home and pray about it.
A week later, it came to me, and so I told him, and I'm sharing it here, because who doesn't this apply to? Who doesn't face whales in their life??
I told him, (after sharing my story with him, of course, hee hee), that life's obstacles will come up and block your way, and when it seems that there's no way around them, there IS a way...there is ALWAYS a way, no matter what. And when there's no way around, the way is OVER....
And then of course I had to go into my talk on God. And trusting Him. To provide the needed answers. And His Word. And pray.
I think of his whale all the time, and I remember it when I'm faced with obstacles. There's always a way.
Always....
This is the very first prophetic dream I ever had. I became a Christian at 17, and it didn't take long for the dreams to start pouring in my little head. I think I was 17 or 18 when I had this one...
I found myself in a long dark tunnel, it seemed to have no end. It was very narrow- only wide enough for one person- and it was totally enclosed. I began to run, faster and faster, with no end in sight...it was very frightening...and then I realized that there were people running behind me. Not chasing me, but following me! As in, I was leading the way! Crazy! We all run faster and faster, and then I realize that we are in a corral....hurdles start appearing, and so now we are not only running as fast as we can, but now we all must leap over these hurdles, in the dark...
There was a sense of urgency and fear, and I knew we must find the exit, we must make it to the end. Finally, as I'm running, I begin to see a small light at the end, and as I get closer, it gets bigger...we all up our pace and make it to the exit...and just as we are all about to be free, a huge bull thrusts his head into the exit! It was not your ordinary bull, either. It was huge. It had horns like you wouldn't believe. And glowing red eyes. It was pure evil, and it was angry, and it snorted and did that thing with it's hoof....like it was about to charge at me. I was terrified, but there were all these people behind me waiting to get out, and we had come so far, and through such darkness, and all the obstacles.....
So I stood my ground and began to pray. I held up my hand in the bull's face, and began to say the Lord's Prayer. As I did, the bull diminished in size, until it was just a weak little critter on the ground! I was amazed! But no time to be amazed...I had to finish...
I stood there at the side of the exit, still holding my hand in the direction of the bull, still praying, continually, and all the people began to exit, one by one, they were set free...
...they were set free......
Last year sometime (or was it two years ago?) I had a nice little evening with this nice guy. We sat at the table at the restaurant and chatted, and I proceeded to get a little tipsy. (They had good beer.)
Next thing you know, we're playing a little game. I have no idea how we started this, but we start taking turns showing each other various things in our wallets. Oh I remember, it started by me wanting to look at his driver's license picture. So then I showed him a picture of my daughter. Then a picture of my brother. Then he gave me one of his business cards. We were like kids at show & tell. Either that, or just really old, and really easily amused.
Anyway, this strange thing happened: all of a sudden, from out of nowhere, I opened my wallet up real fast and grabbed my Brookshire's "Thank You" card, and slapped it down on the table, saying, "I bet you don't have one of these!"
Well, at the very same time, he also had a card in his hand, but he hadn't slapped it down on the table yet. He just got this look on his face, then slowly turned the card around where I could see it. It was the same card. And what's more, we said "I bet you don't have one of these" at the very same time.
It was just one of those things. But the fact that it was a "thank you" card was significant.
About three days later, I had one of my "dreams". Not the regular kind, that just comes from my own brain. This was one of those dreams that the person is communicating with you. Do you know what I'm talking about? Like, what they say to you, is what they are really wanting to say to you in real life?
If you're a professional dreamer, like I am, then you know what I mean.
So anyway, in this dream, I see him standing there, looking at me. Just him. Nothing behind him, just blank space. He had a serious look on his face. And he said to me, "Thank You."
When he said this, I felt it in my heart. I felt the sincerity of it. But I have no idea to this day what on earth he was thanking me for.
And then I woke up.
No, he wasn't thanking me for a nice time.(trust me.)
July 15, 2007 - Sunday
Here's a dream I had about two years ago.
I saw a beehive hanging from a tree branch, right outside my front door. I wanted some honey! So I took a long stick and started hitting the hive. Of course, the bees were angry and started swarming all over the place.
I wouldn't give up. I went back, and this time I knocked the hive down with the stick. Not good. Now the honey production will stop. More angry bees.
So I give up and go back inside. And then...I look....
And hanging right there inside my living room is a small bee hut thing- like the kind that beekeepers have, you know, they look like little white houses? But this one was small, and hung from my ceiling, like a bird house!
As I'm standing there looking at it, a lone bee flies into my home. I watch as it goes straight to the little hut, deposits honey, and exits. Then it returns with some of it's buddies, and they all start doing the honey thing, right there in my house. Before long, there's an entire line of bees coming into my home, filling the hut with honey, and going back out again! I laughed as I watched them and sensed what they were thinking...they were like, "Here, honey, we know you want our honey....no need to knock down our hive...we've chosen to bring it to you." They were doing it for me. Out of love. Silly, I know. But I could feel the love of those bees in my dream.
Soon the little hut was overflowing with so much honey, it was running over the sides! I thought, "I have no way to store this honey!" I looked around for something to catch it in. Something, anything...but all I could find was a few old empty milk jugs. Unfitting and not good enough for this precious honey, but it was all I had. I was about to fill these old jugs with honey, when...
There appeared, right there on my living room floor, several beautiful crystal jars. They looked like something your grandmother would have in her curio cabinet. Square, with corked or sealed lids, with the chain thing...you know what I'm talking about? Decanters?
So now I not only have ample amounts of delicious honey, but am now provided with the means to store it. There was enough for me and everyone I know and love. It was so beautiful.
When I awoke from this dream, I was so moved, I just started crying. I felt overwhelmed, because I understood the meaning...
Love will come to you...
And if you think you can't handle it, think again...
Because God always provides a way.
He provided the honey, and also the containers to store it...
Our hearts are like containers. He refreshes and restores our hearts, does He not?
July 16, 2007 - Monday
I had this brief dream about 5 months ago.
I saw a large, muscular man, squatting down on the ground, giving his full attention to a small child. The big strong man was listening intently to this seemingly insignificant child's voice.
When I woke up, I understood the meaning almost instantly:
That we are entering into a strange time, where the wise and strong in the eyes of the world will turn to the small and weak in the eyes of the world. That God will now use the wisdom that He's hidden away in the seemingly useless and weak. That the wisdom of the world will no longer be of any use, and only His wisdom will see us through.
July 15, 2007 - Sunday
Now here's a dream I had about five years ago.
I was in a small, dark room. There were pillows lining the walls, and I think a few people just sitting around on the floor, talking quietly, relaxing...
And in the very center of this small room, there was a wooden coffee table.
I think in the beginning of this dream, I had been sitting around with these people. But then, out of nowhere I get this urge...and I mean, an URGE...
...and I jump up, and I get up on the coffee table, and everybody is looking at me.
I then bust out singing, at the top of my lungs, Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song!!
I was like, really loud, "...VALHALLA I AM COMING!!!!!!"
And everybody just sat there and stared.
Yup.
July 16, 2007 - Monday
Normally I can find some kind of meaning in my dreams, but this one...well, you'll see.
I dreamed that I was walking in the woods with my cousin. I knew these woods were dangerous and filled with bears. Bad bears! But my cousin just walked along, all flippant about the danger at hand...
I then saw a huge bear, and warned my cousin to hide...but it was too late. The bear started to attack her, and I was somehow able to fight with it and make it go away.
Then, I see this:
The bear comes back out into our view, but this time he's not a threat. He's scooting along on a small rolling cart, like, on his belly...all injured and remorseful. He's rolling along the ground, saying, "I'm going to be a better bear now...I promise, I'm going to be a good bear..."
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention~ when he came out on the rolling thing, there was dramatic music playing in the background, like in a movie. Violins, flute, harp...
...yup.
Just want to add, I only put this one in here due to it's sheer nuttiness. When I think that this came from my own brain, it just really makes me wonder...
I can just see that poor bear. On the road to rehabilitation. A new bear.
Wait! I just remembered something....I think I sensed that it was a trick...that the bear had something up his sleeve, or fur...
oooohhhh...could this have to do with trust? With trusting people that you shouldn't? Hmmmm....
Oh wow. I totally just figured it out. That particular cousin is someone I view as very naive and very uneducated in real life. Never ran with the wrong crowd, never dated the wrong kind of guy. Has a cookie-cutter kind of life. In my mind, she has no clue as to what really lurks out there.
There's bad bears out there, I'm tellin ya!! For real... :)
July 15, 2007 - Sunday
A few years ago, I had a dream.
I saw what appeared to be a wooden cube, I held it in my hand...
It had a black ribbon around it, tied in a bow. I watched, as the ribbon untied itself, and the wooden cube began to unfold itself... it started to reveal different layers and games. First, it turned into a chess board, then it re-arranged itself into a checkers board, then backgammon, Chinese checkers, and so on & so on... I was amazed at all of the different options.
Then, when the cube was finished showing me all of it's various game boards, it re-folded itself back up, nice and neat, back into a small cube. The black ribbon then wrapped back around, and tied itself into a bow.
When I awoke, I sensed in my spirit that I can "play any game I want."
Such is life. The options are endless.
How will I play?
Shall I cheat? Shall I be a good sport? Shall I even participate? Do I seek to win, and do I accept a loss? How do I treat my opponent?
I think that the name of the game, is to simply...
play.
July 16, 2007 - Monday
Ok. I did it. I came out of my cave and made myself known.
I am not going to hide anymore. People can now....find me. (*shudders*)
And I just might ....listen. and maybe, just maybe....respond.
I have been unlisted for a decade. Not sure why. Maybe it had something to do with the trail of destruction I've left behind me.
Maybe it had something to do with the way I end communications with folks. It goes like this. >delete!<
And then you change your email. And phone number, if they are the persistant type.
I think it's because I haven't had the mental energy to deal with stuff, as in, other people's sides to things, other people's reasonings & what-not.
Oh wow, as I was typing that last sentence, I just remembered my dream from the other night!!
I was in a back yard. I think it was my own back yard. I was just minding my own business, and then I realized, right beside my yard, like, right on the other side of the fence, was a real live baseball game going on! With a huge field and stadium seating and the cheering crowd and everything. I was like, "Hmmmm..."
Yeah. Just standing there, aware of this pro baseball game taking place right on the other side of the fence. And then it hit me. I knew that it was only a matter of time before a baseball would come sailing over the fence and hit me....and just as I thought of this, I looked up into the sky, and sure enough, there it was, hurling through the air like a blazing comet, coming right toward my head!! I ducked, just in time, and it hit the ground beside me.
I stood back up, reached down and grabbed the baseball, opened a gate in the fence, and stepped right on to the baseball field! Walked right up near to the pitcher. Everyone was staring at me. I smiled. And threw the ball, with my hardest underhand throw, straight into the pitcher's glove. And then turned and walked back to my little yard.
When I woke up, I died laughing, thinking, how true is that! This is a perfect illustration of my life. For the most part, I mind my own business, and keep to myself, but sometimes things come at me, just random unexpected things that would ONLY happen to me. I've learned to be on the lookout for these flyballs...(is that what they're called?)...I expect them now. And I think I've learned to duck.
But the best part of that dream is, I know how to give it right back. To make the most of it. When these unexpected things happen to me, I find a way to throw one right back at life. In my own little way.
God made me small. And dingy. I somehow get away with things that the next person might not be able to pull off.
I'm really starting to love my life. I see the humor in it all, the beauty, the love, the lessons....I see all of it so much more clearly now. And I'm filled with so much love for people...I never thought my heart would feel this way. God has done something to me during this strange time, for sure. He's repaired me somehow. At first, when I started to feel again, it was terrible. It really, really sucked. But now.....I see everything so different. I just want to hug everybody!!
I'm totally cracking myself up. And here I go again, about ready to lock myself out of this account. It's my new secret weapon against myself. To keep me from deleting what I've written.
*bye for now*
I am totally going to cheat here, because this one is not my own dream. But it's so close to my heart, it might as well be. I'm going to share it, and just hope the owner of the dream doesn't see it... I should be alright. Uh, but here's my disclaimer: Hey you big lug, I have a big mouth and I tell stories about everybody, ok?? And it was *MY* prayer for you so I should get to tell it.
An old friend of mine, actually an old boyfriend, endures a lot of stress in his life. He builds custom motorcycles with his brother and is the most exhausted person I know. He is so wrapped up in this business, which is great and all, but you see, he's a musician. A good one. A brilliant one. And he needs to be reminded to keep his music alive. By me. (That's my job.)
He's special. Because, for one thing, he was with me when a very amazing thing happened to me. Right after I got saved, a helmet was delivered to my head, just seconds before I crashed into a table. I hit my left temple so hard that it knocked me to the ground, but there was no injury...because this motorcycle helmet was just brought in, just minutes earlier, by these...guys.....and one of them just put it right on my head! For no reason! But that's another story. Anyway, Jason (ha! I am so FREAKING TIRED of not naming names!) was dancing with me when this happened, he saw it all. Well, how could he not, when he was the one who (ahem) sort of threw me (accidentally) into the table...
So, he's a special one, not only for being with me for my first amazing event, but because he was by my side during a very difficult time, when I was 18. I have never forgotten his kindness towards me.
So...I am now attempting to get to my point.... a couple of years ago, he was totally tired and stressed. One night I prayed for him. I mean, prayed my heart out. I don't think I had ever prayed for him like this. I was very specific with God. I asked Him to show Jason EXACTLY where he's at in life. In the form of a dream. Don't ask me why I requested a dream, it just came out....
The next day we got together, just to catch up & say hello & what-not. As we're walking around the shop, he's showing me the new custom cars he was working on, and some very inappropriate pictures on the wall, he says, just out of the blue, "Amy, I had a strange dream last night."
My heart started pounding, the way it does when I know something's up. I played dumb and was like, "Oh yeah? What was it?"
He then proceeded to tell me, "I never dream....because I never sleep...but this was incredible....I was standing in front of a channel of water. I stood and looked at it, and then, I was in the water. I was trying to swim the channel, and then a huge whale appeared...it came up and blocked my way....I didn't know what to do..."
My heart was beating like crazy. I was so totally into this....
He said, "And then, just out of the blue, I find myself leaping OVER the whale, through the air! I just sailed right on over it!"
He was smiling when he told this part, and I died laughing, for I already knew the meaning. But I remained quiet. Had to go home and pray about it.
A week later, it came to me, and so I told him, and I'm sharing it here, because who doesn't this apply to? Who doesn't face whales in their life??
I told him, (after sharing my story with him, of course, hee hee), that life's obstacles will come up and block your way, and when it seems that there's no way around them, there IS a way...there is ALWAYS a way, no matter what. And when there's no way around, the way is OVER....
And then of course I had to go into my talk on God. And trusting Him. To provide the needed answers. And His Word. And pray.
I think of his whale all the time, and I remember it when I'm faced with obstacles. There's always a way.
Always....
This is the very first prophetic dream I ever had. I became a Christian at 17, and it didn't take long for the dreams to start pouring in my little head. I think I was 17 or 18 when I had this one...
I found myself in a long dark tunnel, it seemed to have no end. It was very narrow- only wide enough for one person- and it was totally enclosed. I began to run, faster and faster, with no end in sight...it was very frightening...and then I realized that there were people running behind me. Not chasing me, but following me! As in, I was leading the way! Crazy! We all run faster and faster, and then I realize that we are in a corral....hurdles start appearing, and so now we are not only running as fast as we can, but now we all must leap over these hurdles, in the dark...
There was a sense of urgency and fear, and I knew we must find the exit, we must make it to the end. Finally, as I'm running, I begin to see a small light at the end, and as I get closer, it gets bigger...we all up our pace and make it to the exit...and just as we are all about to be free, a huge bull thrusts his head into the exit! It was not your ordinary bull, either. It was huge. It had horns like you wouldn't believe. And glowing red eyes. It was pure evil, and it was angry, and it snorted and did that thing with it's hoof....like it was about to charge at me. I was terrified, but there were all these people behind me waiting to get out, and we had come so far, and through such darkness, and all the obstacles.....
So I stood my ground and began to pray. I held up my hand in the bull's face, and began to say the Lord's Prayer. As I did, the bull diminished in size, until it was just a weak little critter on the ground! I was amazed! But no time to be amazed...I had to finish...
I stood there at the side of the exit, still holding my hand in the direction of the bull, still praying, continually, and all the people began to exit, one by one, they were set free...
...they were set free......
Last year sometime (or was it two years ago?) I had a nice little evening with this nice guy. We sat at the table at the restaurant and chatted, and I proceeded to get a little tipsy. (They had good beer.)
Next thing you know, we're playing a little game. I have no idea how we started this, but we start taking turns showing each other various things in our wallets. Oh I remember, it started by me wanting to look at his driver's license picture. So then I showed him a picture of my daughter. Then a picture of my brother. Then he gave me one of his business cards. We were like kids at show & tell. Either that, or just really old, and really easily amused.
Anyway, this strange thing happened: all of a sudden, from out of nowhere, I opened my wallet up real fast and grabbed my Brookshire's "Thank You" card, and slapped it down on the table, saying, "I bet you don't have one of these!"
Well, at the very same time, he also had a card in his hand, but he hadn't slapped it down on the table yet. He just got this look on his face, then slowly turned the card around where I could see it. It was the same card. And what's more, we said "I bet you don't have one of these" at the very same time.
It was just one of those things. But the fact that it was a "thank you" card was significant.
About three days later, I had one of my "dreams". Not the regular kind, that just comes from my own brain. This was one of those dreams that the person is communicating with you. Do you know what I'm talking about? Like, what they say to you, is what they are really wanting to say to you in real life?
If you're a professional dreamer, like I am, then you know what I mean.
So anyway, in this dream, I see him standing there, looking at me. Just him. Nothing behind him, just blank space. He had a serious look on his face. And he said to me, "Thank You."
When he said this, I felt it in my heart. I felt the sincerity of it. But I have no idea to this day what on earth he was thanking me for.
And then I woke up.
No, he wasn't thanking me for a nice time.(trust me.)
July 15, 2007 - Sunday
Here's a dream I had about two years ago.
I saw a beehive hanging from a tree branch, right outside my front door. I wanted some honey! So I took a long stick and started hitting the hive. Of course, the bees were angry and started swarming all over the place.
I wouldn't give up. I went back, and this time I knocked the hive down with the stick. Not good. Now the honey production will stop. More angry bees.
So I give up and go back inside. And then...I look....
And hanging right there inside my living room is a small bee hut thing- like the kind that beekeepers have, you know, they look like little white houses? But this one was small, and hung from my ceiling, like a bird house!
As I'm standing there looking at it, a lone bee flies into my home. I watch as it goes straight to the little hut, deposits honey, and exits. Then it returns with some of it's buddies, and they all start doing the honey thing, right there in my house. Before long, there's an entire line of bees coming into my home, filling the hut with honey, and going back out again! I laughed as I watched them and sensed what they were thinking...they were like, "Here, honey, we know you want our honey....no need to knock down our hive...we've chosen to bring it to you." They were doing it for me. Out of love. Silly, I know. But I could feel the love of those bees in my dream.
Soon the little hut was overflowing with so much honey, it was running over the sides! I thought, "I have no way to store this honey!" I looked around for something to catch it in. Something, anything...but all I could find was a few old empty milk jugs. Unfitting and not good enough for this precious honey, but it was all I had. I was about to fill these old jugs with honey, when...
There appeared, right there on my living room floor, several beautiful crystal jars. They looked like something your grandmother would have in her curio cabinet. Square, with corked or sealed lids, with the chain thing...you know what I'm talking about? Decanters?
So now I not only have ample amounts of delicious honey, but am now provided with the means to store it. There was enough for me and everyone I know and love. It was so beautiful.
When I awoke from this dream, I was so moved, I just started crying. I felt overwhelmed, because I understood the meaning...
Love will come to you...
And if you think you can't handle it, think again...
Because God always provides a way.
He provided the honey, and also the containers to store it...
Our hearts are like containers. He refreshes and restores our hearts, does He not?
July 16, 2007 - Monday
I had this brief dream about 5 months ago.
I saw a large, muscular man, squatting down on the ground, giving his full attention to a small child. The big strong man was listening intently to this seemingly insignificant child's voice.
When I woke up, I understood the meaning almost instantly:
That we are entering into a strange time, where the wise and strong in the eyes of the world will turn to the small and weak in the eyes of the world. That God will now use the wisdom that He's hidden away in the seemingly useless and weak. That the wisdom of the world will no longer be of any use, and only His wisdom will see us through.
July 15, 2007 - Sunday
Now here's a dream I had about five years ago.
I was in a small, dark room. There were pillows lining the walls, and I think a few people just sitting around on the floor, talking quietly, relaxing...
And in the very center of this small room, there was a wooden coffee table.
I think in the beginning of this dream, I had been sitting around with these people. But then, out of nowhere I get this urge...and I mean, an URGE...
...and I jump up, and I get up on the coffee table, and everybody is looking at me.
I then bust out singing, at the top of my lungs, Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song!!
I was like, really loud, "...VALHALLA I AM COMING!!!!!!"
And everybody just sat there and stared.
Yup.
July 16, 2007 - Monday
Normally I can find some kind of meaning in my dreams, but this one...well, you'll see.
I dreamed that I was walking in the woods with my cousin. I knew these woods were dangerous and filled with bears. Bad bears! But my cousin just walked along, all flippant about the danger at hand...
I then saw a huge bear, and warned my cousin to hide...but it was too late. The bear started to attack her, and I was somehow able to fight with it and make it go away.
Then, I see this:
The bear comes back out into our view, but this time he's not a threat. He's scooting along on a small rolling cart, like, on his belly...all injured and remorseful. He's rolling along the ground, saying, "I'm going to be a better bear now...I promise, I'm going to be a good bear..."
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention~ when he came out on the rolling thing, there was dramatic music playing in the background, like in a movie. Violins, flute, harp...
...yup.
Just want to add, I only put this one in here due to it's sheer nuttiness. When I think that this came from my own brain, it just really makes me wonder...
I can just see that poor bear. On the road to rehabilitation. A new bear.
Wait! I just remembered something....I think I sensed that it was a trick...that the bear had something up his sleeve, or fur...
oooohhhh...could this have to do with trust? With trusting people that you shouldn't? Hmmmm....
Oh wow. I totally just figured it out. That particular cousin is someone I view as very naive and very uneducated in real life. Never ran with the wrong crowd, never dated the wrong kind of guy. Has a cookie-cutter kind of life. In my mind, she has no clue as to what really lurks out there.
There's bad bears out there, I'm tellin ya!! For real... :)
July 15, 2007 - Sunday
A few years ago, I had a dream.
I saw what appeared to be a wooden cube, I held it in my hand...
It had a black ribbon around it, tied in a bow. I watched, as the ribbon untied itself, and the wooden cube began to unfold itself... it started to reveal different layers and games. First, it turned into a chess board, then it re-arranged itself into a checkers board, then backgammon, Chinese checkers, and so on & so on... I was amazed at all of the different options.
Then, when the cube was finished showing me all of it's various game boards, it re-folded itself back up, nice and neat, back into a small cube. The black ribbon then wrapped back around, and tied itself into a bow.
When I awoke, I sensed in my spirit that I can "play any game I want."
Such is life. The options are endless.
How will I play?
Shall I cheat? Shall I be a good sport? Shall I even participate? Do I seek to win, and do I accept a loss? How do I treat my opponent?
I think that the name of the game, is to simply...
play.
January 19 - 24, 1981
January 19
Dear Diary,
Excuse that mess on the opposite page. I didn't realize how messy it was! I just finished my book, Veronica Ganz. It was about a girl who was a real bully & beat up on boys & everything. Well, today was President Carter's last day in the White House. I bet Reagan is pleased! I seem to be doing better. My throat isn't soare anymore, but I've been coughing like crazy! I probably won't go to school for 2 more days. Love- Doing Better
January 20
Dear Diary,
I stayed home from school again today, but I think I'll be going on Thursday. Today was very important! First, Ronald Reagan became President today, (he took President Carter's place, ) then.....THE HOSTAGES WERE RELEASED! What a day! Love, Amy
January 21
Dear Diary,
I stayed home from school today! I can't wait till tomorrow. I get to go to school. I'll tell you my dream I had last night. Well, I was ice-skating on the highway, and went to our old deer lease, in Lampassas. It was all fixed up! (the cabin.) There was even a baby grande piano. Gretchen, my friend, was with me. I taught her how to play the piano. It popped when Valerie woke me up. Amy
January 22
ME AND DARA GOT INTO A FIGHT AND SHE SAID SHE WOULD NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN AND WE BETTED $1.00 AND I WON!
Dear Diary,
Today was fun! I caught up on all of my work. While the rest of the class took a science test, I had to catch up on math. After school on the kindergarden playground, Angela called me a BITCH! I really hate her! When she was leaving, I said, "I think the same of you!" and when I got home, I told Mommy. She said she's gonna tell Sister Paula on Angela. At 7:30, Daddy took me, Dara, & Valerie to swim at Kimball. I won a $1.00 bet with Dara!
January 23
Dear Diary,
Today was the most fun (and tiring) day! First, in school we didn't have any work, and we baked bread and did a quilting bee. Then after school, me & Dara rode the bus downtown and went ice-skating. I didn't fall once! Then Colleen called & wanted to know if I could go rollerskating. I could and we skated from 7:30 to 11:30! I rode home with her and spent the night. Before we went to bed we watched Devil Dog, Hound of Hell. It sure was scary! Love, Tired
January 24
Dear Diary,
Today I went to the doctor with Colleen. She had an effection of the gaul bladder. We didn't get any breakfast, so we got donuts from Kroger. Mommy came and picked me up at 3:00 and they had just come back from Ovilla. You know what? We might build a house out there. Last night at the skating rink, I forgot to tell you who was there. Bruce, Mark, Janie and Leslie. We sure did have fun! Love, Amy
Dear Diary,
Excuse that mess on the opposite page. I didn't realize how messy it was! I just finished my book, Veronica Ganz. It was about a girl who was a real bully & beat up on boys & everything. Well, today was President Carter's last day in the White House. I bet Reagan is pleased! I seem to be doing better. My throat isn't soare anymore, but I've been coughing like crazy! I probably won't go to school for 2 more days. Love- Doing Better
January 20
Dear Diary,
I stayed home from school again today, but I think I'll be going on Thursday. Today was very important! First, Ronald Reagan became President today, (he took President Carter's place, ) then.....THE HOSTAGES WERE RELEASED! What a day! Love, Amy
January 21
Dear Diary,
I stayed home from school today! I can't wait till tomorrow. I get to go to school. I'll tell you my dream I had last night. Well, I was ice-skating on the highway, and went to our old deer lease, in Lampassas. It was all fixed up! (the cabin.) There was even a baby grande piano. Gretchen, my friend, was with me. I taught her how to play the piano. It popped when Valerie woke me up. Amy
January 22
ME AND DARA GOT INTO A FIGHT AND SHE SAID SHE WOULD NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN AND WE BETTED $1.00 AND I WON!
Dear Diary,
Today was fun! I caught up on all of my work. While the rest of the class took a science test, I had to catch up on math. After school on the kindergarden playground, Angela called me a BITCH! I really hate her! When she was leaving, I said, "I think the same of you!" and when I got home, I told Mommy. She said she's gonna tell Sister Paula on Angela. At 7:30, Daddy took me, Dara, & Valerie to swim at Kimball. I won a $1.00 bet with Dara!
January 23
Dear Diary,
Today was the most fun (and tiring) day! First, in school we didn't have any work, and we baked bread and did a quilting bee. Then after school, me & Dara rode the bus downtown and went ice-skating. I didn't fall once! Then Colleen called & wanted to know if I could go rollerskating. I could and we skated from 7:30 to 11:30! I rode home with her and spent the night. Before we went to bed we watched Devil Dog, Hound of Hell. It sure was scary! Love, Tired
January 24
Dear Diary,
Today I went to the doctor with Colleen. She had an effection of the gaul bladder. We didn't get any breakfast, so we got donuts from Kroger. Mommy came and picked me up at 3:00 and they had just come back from Ovilla. You know what? We might build a house out there. Last night at the skating rink, I forgot to tell you who was there. Bruce, Mark, Janie and Leslie. We sure did have fun! Love, Amy
social conformity & dealing with the west nile
more stuff I wrote a couple months ago...
July 15, 2007 - Sunday
personal growth, and losing friends
It all started on the day I quit drill team.
The day I said I'm through with conformity and social pressure.
Drill team may have been great for others, but for me personally, it turned me into a slave. A dancing robot slave.
One day in a whirlwind gust of determined emotion, I stomped up those stairs in the gym, tears flowing with each step...I strutted right on in to the director's office and announced, "I QUIT!!!" She was like, "Uh...ok, Amy, do you want to talk about this? Do you need to sit down?" No. I didn't want to spend one more second of my life in that prison of gawdy makeup, turquoise tights, and forcing myself into the splits at 6:30 in the morning.
It was on this very day that everything changed. It started the ball rolling in a whole new direction....an honest direction. It was the day I finally decided to be myself. I know I didn't need to be so dramatic about it- maybe I at least could have finished out the semester- but no, when I make up my mind about something, the whole world needs to know.
And this is how I lost the first batch of friends.
I lost more, after becoming pregnant at the age of 20. All of my friends continued to do the usual partying, why shouldn't they? I could no longer tag along...what with my growing bump & all....so there went the second batch of friends.
When I became a Christian at 17, I maintained a low profile about it. I didn't mention it to anyone. Well, except for my boyfriend, who was a Christian already, but for some reason he didn't tell me. When I found out about Jesus, and having a real relationship with Him, and all that that entails, I asked my boyfriend, "So you already knew all of this?" He did. We had been dating for about 2 years! I said, "Why didn't you tell me??" He just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I thought you already knew." No. I didn't know.
In my mid-twenties I finally came out of the closet and let it be known how much God means to me. I had to start talking, because all these incredible things started happening...I had to start telling people! Not to preach...but to simply share. I was amazed.
And this is how I lost more friends.
Then my life took a drastic turn downhill, I went tumbling into all kinds of chaos. I survived, and emerged with a story to tell. I knew in my heart that I had to tell it. My entire life plays out like a strange dream, and telling my story is both therapy for me, and the right thing to do.
More friends, gone. When they discover who I really am.
And now, here I am, at the age of 37. Being forced to take time out. My inner thoughts and memories have been bubbling up to the surface, one by one, and all I can do about it is write. I am at the point where I don't care anymore about social acceptance or how many "friends" I have. I do not mind if someone chooses to distance themself from me, because I make them uncomfortable. My mission here on earth is not to make people comfortable. God gave me a mouth, and I would wither up and die if I were unable to use it.
I have shared my testimony with lots of folks, and I do not regret it one bit. If you are one who has read my words, please know that I did it with nothing but love in my heart. I have to tell others what God has done for me. It blows my mind. He boggles my head, when I think of it all.
I had to get rid of all my copies of my story. Know why? To prevent myself from compulsively sharing it any more. There's a time to share, and a time to move on. The time has come for me to move on from my past, and clear the slate, make room in my head for what's next.
Oh don't get me wrong, I'll never shut up. I'll never stop writing. It's just that it's time to take the focus off my past. It's a relief to be at this point in my life. It's as if, I've climbed my impossible mountain, and now I can see things from a clear perspective...
But life is not about staying on top of the mountain. We are created to dwell down in the valley, where real life takes place, the dirty, messy stuff that life is made of. It's not about living such a pristine existence, or being holy. I am nothing, my thoughts and words and deeds are nothing, my service to God is nothing. It's only because of Christ in me that I am something. What a relief!
So anyway...what did I start off talking about? Oh yeah...how you lose friends as you grow and move through life and change. But it's all good. You need to be true to yourself. Don't worry about it.
Keep going...
Keep growing......
Don't give up, don't give in............
my poor little head!
...all funked up & what not.
It's getting better though. Haven't had a seizure since December, my leg hasn't gone out on me in two months, my energy is coming back, and I actually drove a few weeks ago. Slow, but I did it.
Just got the test results back from the neuro/psychologist testing, and although my thinking is a little bit fuzzy, the doc said it's nothing to be alarmed about...except for my memory. According to the test, my memory is right on the borderline of "low-average" and "impaired." Don't laugh. This is serious!
I know how entertaining all of this has been to people who know me. For years, my thinking (and lack thereof) has been the brunt of many jokes. And now this. I see the humor in it. Especially losing my memory. I mean, it's sort of a good thing, all things considered.
Now this is the funny part. The doc is referring me to a program/class that's for people with various types of head injuries. It's supposed to help you re-train your brain. Now this will be interesting for sure. No telling what my classmates will be like. I will most definitely report back on that.
The West Nile has left scarring on my left temporal lobe. It's a souvenier that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. My neurologist says that I can expect long-term residual effects, but nobody really knows for sure, because it hasn't been around that long. There's some research going on, and I've been invited to join. I might go along with it, as long as it doesn't involve another spinal tap. I have a feeling it will. But my conscience tells me to do it anyway...I mean, I have the antibodies in my bloodstream for West Nile Virus. How cool is that?? They are trying to formulate a vaccine, I think.
So....that's the latest scoop on my little health issue. This has been a very strange time in my life. I've had plenty of time to think...and write....
...and write....
...and write....
July 15, 2007 - Sunday
personal growth, and losing friends
It all started on the day I quit drill team.
The day I said I'm through with conformity and social pressure.
Drill team may have been great for others, but for me personally, it turned me into a slave. A dancing robot slave.
One day in a whirlwind gust of determined emotion, I stomped up those stairs in the gym, tears flowing with each step...I strutted right on in to the director's office and announced, "I QUIT!!!" She was like, "Uh...ok, Amy, do you want to talk about this? Do you need to sit down?" No. I didn't want to spend one more second of my life in that prison of gawdy makeup, turquoise tights, and forcing myself into the splits at 6:30 in the morning.
It was on this very day that everything changed. It started the ball rolling in a whole new direction....an honest direction. It was the day I finally decided to be myself. I know I didn't need to be so dramatic about it- maybe I at least could have finished out the semester- but no, when I make up my mind about something, the whole world needs to know.
And this is how I lost the first batch of friends.
I lost more, after becoming pregnant at the age of 20. All of my friends continued to do the usual partying, why shouldn't they? I could no longer tag along...what with my growing bump & all....so there went the second batch of friends.
When I became a Christian at 17, I maintained a low profile about it. I didn't mention it to anyone. Well, except for my boyfriend, who was a Christian already, but for some reason he didn't tell me. When I found out about Jesus, and having a real relationship with Him, and all that that entails, I asked my boyfriend, "So you already knew all of this?" He did. We had been dating for about 2 years! I said, "Why didn't you tell me??" He just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I thought you already knew." No. I didn't know.
In my mid-twenties I finally came out of the closet and let it be known how much God means to me. I had to start talking, because all these incredible things started happening...I had to start telling people! Not to preach...but to simply share. I was amazed.
And this is how I lost more friends.
Then my life took a drastic turn downhill, I went tumbling into all kinds of chaos. I survived, and emerged with a story to tell. I knew in my heart that I had to tell it. My entire life plays out like a strange dream, and telling my story is both therapy for me, and the right thing to do.
More friends, gone. When they discover who I really am.
And now, here I am, at the age of 37. Being forced to take time out. My inner thoughts and memories have been bubbling up to the surface, one by one, and all I can do about it is write. I am at the point where I don't care anymore about social acceptance or how many "friends" I have. I do not mind if someone chooses to distance themself from me, because I make them uncomfortable. My mission here on earth is not to make people comfortable. God gave me a mouth, and I would wither up and die if I were unable to use it.
I have shared my testimony with lots of folks, and I do not regret it one bit. If you are one who has read my words, please know that I did it with nothing but love in my heart. I have to tell others what God has done for me. It blows my mind. He boggles my head, when I think of it all.
I had to get rid of all my copies of my story. Know why? To prevent myself from compulsively sharing it any more. There's a time to share, and a time to move on. The time has come for me to move on from my past, and clear the slate, make room in my head for what's next.
Oh don't get me wrong, I'll never shut up. I'll never stop writing. It's just that it's time to take the focus off my past. It's a relief to be at this point in my life. It's as if, I've climbed my impossible mountain, and now I can see things from a clear perspective...
But life is not about staying on top of the mountain. We are created to dwell down in the valley, where real life takes place, the dirty, messy stuff that life is made of. It's not about living such a pristine existence, or being holy. I am nothing, my thoughts and words and deeds are nothing, my service to God is nothing. It's only because of Christ in me that I am something. What a relief!
So anyway...what did I start off talking about? Oh yeah...how you lose friends as you grow and move through life and change. But it's all good. You need to be true to yourself. Don't worry about it.
Keep going...
Keep growing......
Don't give up, don't give in............
my poor little head!
...all funked up & what not.
It's getting better though. Haven't had a seizure since December, my leg hasn't gone out on me in two months, my energy is coming back, and I actually drove a few weeks ago. Slow, but I did it.
Just got the test results back from the neuro/psychologist testing, and although my thinking is a little bit fuzzy, the doc said it's nothing to be alarmed about...except for my memory. According to the test, my memory is right on the borderline of "low-average" and "impaired." Don't laugh. This is serious!
I know how entertaining all of this has been to people who know me. For years, my thinking (and lack thereof) has been the brunt of many jokes. And now this. I see the humor in it. Especially losing my memory. I mean, it's sort of a good thing, all things considered.
Now this is the funny part. The doc is referring me to a program/class that's for people with various types of head injuries. It's supposed to help you re-train your brain. Now this will be interesting for sure. No telling what my classmates will be like. I will most definitely report back on that.
The West Nile has left scarring on my left temporal lobe. It's a souvenier that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. My neurologist says that I can expect long-term residual effects, but nobody really knows for sure, because it hasn't been around that long. There's some research going on, and I've been invited to join. I might go along with it, as long as it doesn't involve another spinal tap. I have a feeling it will. But my conscience tells me to do it anyway...I mean, I have the antibodies in my bloodstream for West Nile Virus. How cool is that?? They are trying to formulate a vaccine, I think.
So....that's the latest scoop on my little health issue. This has been a very strange time in my life. I've had plenty of time to think...and write....
...and write....
...and write....
January 13 - 18, 1981
January 13
Dear Diary,
I hate today! First of all, we had a firedrill & it got down to 40 seconds. None of us had our coats on, & it was about 40 degrees! Also, Mrs. Coughlin gave us a division math assignment. I hate division! Mommy helped me with it. Don't tell anybody, but I might attend a course at Mountain View for help on math. Also, I might like Eric, but I really don't know. I'm going to go to bed at 9:00 because I want to sleep good. (Our usual is 10:00.) See ya tomorrow, Amy
January 14
Dear Diary,
This sure was a day to remember! First of all, my 3rd grade math teacher, Sister Adriana, came back to see us. Second of all, we got a new puppy! He is a Rhodesian Ridgeback, like most of all our other dogs. Poor Simba was put to sleep cause he couldn't control anything. Also he was too old. Anyway, Simbatu (the puppy) is light-brown, and soft as velour! We had to go to 2 airports to finally get it. Love, Amy
January 15
Dear Diary,
today was okay. For breakfast I had cereal. (Most of it ended up down the drain!) For lunch at school- wait a minute! Why am I telling the boring crap? Anyway, when we were getting ready to go home from school, Jennifer got hold of Jonathan's ball and Mrs. Witte said no balls are to be thrown in the classroom. Jennifer throwed it and it ended up in the trash! Love, Amy
January 16
Dear Diary,
Today we had so much homework! (Math.) Then on the radio we heard that the hostages might be released. But they weren't. Since Susie is sick, we had to go over there and help. Now I think I have the flue. My head is HOT and I have a sore throat. Mommy took my temperature and I have 101. That's the second time I've had it this year. I probably won't get to go ice-skating on Sunday. Love, "Constantly Sick"
January 17
EVERY TIME I COUGH I WILL WRITE IT DOWN.
Dear Diary, (cough-cough)
I've got a terrible chest cold! I have to take it easy all the time. Ya know what? Janie just got her period! She is in the 5th grade, just like me. Ain't it an early age? (cough) Today Mommy took me up to Joske's and I got a (cough-cough) new coat. It is so pretty! It is a light cream beidge, and it's a parka. It comes down to my waist. I had 3 tons of homework, but it is all finished. Love, (cough) Amy Catherine Sick (cough)
January 18
Dear Diary,
Today I woke up SO sick! Mommy gave me a very cold bath, and 2 thousand sponge baths! I had to stay in bed for the whole day. I'm taking horrible aspirins & medicines. You know what? The hostages are going to be released! I can't wait. That'll be a thing to write about. I'm almost done with my book- Veronica Ganz. Love, Amy
Dear Diary,
I hate today! First of all, we had a firedrill & it got down to 40 seconds. None of us had our coats on, & it was about 40 degrees! Also, Mrs. Coughlin gave us a division math assignment. I hate division! Mommy helped me with it. Don't tell anybody, but I might attend a course at Mountain View for help on math. Also, I might like Eric, but I really don't know. I'm going to go to bed at 9:00 because I want to sleep good. (Our usual is 10:00.) See ya tomorrow, Amy
January 14
Dear Diary,
This sure was a day to remember! First of all, my 3rd grade math teacher, Sister Adriana, came back to see us. Second of all, we got a new puppy! He is a Rhodesian Ridgeback, like most of all our other dogs. Poor Simba was put to sleep cause he couldn't control anything. Also he was too old. Anyway, Simbatu (the puppy) is light-brown, and soft as velour! We had to go to 2 airports to finally get it. Love, Amy
January 15
Dear Diary,
today was okay. For breakfast I had cereal. (Most of it ended up down the drain!) For lunch at school- wait a minute! Why am I telling the boring crap? Anyway, when we were getting ready to go home from school, Jennifer got hold of Jonathan's ball and Mrs. Witte said no balls are to be thrown in the classroom. Jennifer throwed it and it ended up in the trash! Love, Amy
January 16
Dear Diary,
Today we had so much homework! (Math.) Then on the radio we heard that the hostages might be released. But they weren't. Since Susie is sick, we had to go over there and help. Now I think I have the flue. My head is HOT and I have a sore throat. Mommy took my temperature and I have 101. That's the second time I've had it this year. I probably won't get to go ice-skating on Sunday. Love, "Constantly Sick"
January 17
EVERY TIME I COUGH I WILL WRITE IT DOWN.
Dear Diary, (cough-cough)
I've got a terrible chest cold! I have to take it easy all the time. Ya know what? Janie just got her period! She is in the 5th grade, just like me. Ain't it an early age? (cough) Today Mommy took me up to Joske's and I got a (cough-cough) new coat. It is so pretty! It is a light cream beidge, and it's a parka. It comes down to my waist. I had 3 tons of homework, but it is all finished. Love, (cough) Amy Catherine Sick (cough)
January 18
Dear Diary,
Today I woke up SO sick! Mommy gave me a very cold bath, and 2 thousand sponge baths! I had to stay in bed for the whole day. I'm taking horrible aspirins & medicines. You know what? The hostages are going to be released! I can't wait. That'll be a thing to write about. I'm almost done with my book- Veronica Ganz. Love, Amy
Saturday, September 8, 2007
from the vault
some of the stuff that came out of me when my cork blew off. most of it surprised even me. I wasn't going to include it here, but then I thought, Amy, girl, own your words. I never heard that term till a few months ago. My friend AJ said she heard a speaker mention it. Own your words. Stand behind them. Back up what you say.
Well....I'm not sure that I could back any of this up if confronted in person. Thus, blogging.
July 14, 2007 - Saturday
white mustang
It's not your fault
that I was a time bomb,
a volcano getting ready to erupt
You didn't know
how much I had hidden away inside
I would have told you
but you never asked.
I don't regret
my parting words, my letter
I stand behind every word, to this very day.
I learned from you,
I learned to value myself again.
Never in my life
had I ever been so blatantly used
as what I experienced with you.
But again, I cannot put the blame on you,
for it was my choice
to go along
with the situation at hand
I tried
to make things equal
did you even see
me pay my way
did you even see
that I wanted to be more than your current squeeze
Oh, you say, you considered getting married
so you wanted to marry a stranger?
Do you know
that women are like treasure chests
but we come with locks
for you to unlock
it's your job
to seek and explore and discover
Take the time
to uncover the layers
take the time
to find out her mysteries
take the time
and you will have
the love of your lifetime
"be here now"
What, are you satisfied now
that you fit into my story somehow?
Is that what you wanted?
To be part of my chaos,
to be a character in my play?
Well congratulations, you made it.
You scoffed at my words
you thought I was a little nutty
you saw my vulnerability, and took advantage
Yes you did.
But little did you know
that the things I told you are solid, and real
and very much alive
You see
God has hidden me
in a very good disguise
From all outer appearances, I am
just a silly girl
Well, maybe I am.
Ok...what kind words can I give to you?
hmmm...well, thank you for...
...still thinking....
sorry.
I've gone blank.
french fry
...and then there's you.
where to begin??
Did you hurt me, or did you help me?
Did you cover me in darkness, or help me to see the light?
Did you put me in a prison, or did you set me free?
You brought me into your world
I was fascinated, spellbound, as if in a dream
you changed my life, what more can I say?
nothing happened that I didn't want
you are so easy to view as the bad guy
but I know better now.
you were a teacher to me
without even knowing or trying.
Because of you, I learned
how weak I really was
Because of you, I learned
to run from chaos
Because of you, I learned
how to bury my heart
Because of you, I learned
that it's only life, and it goes on...
I hope you are happy these days,
I hope you have found your peace
thank you
for giving me a place to stay in the midst of my storm
for listening to me cry
for littering tracts wrapped in ten dollar bills in the Wal-Mart parking lot with me
for taking me on road trips, it was always an adventure with you
for changing my entire life.
How can one human being
have the power
to alter the course
of another human being's life?
But you did.
Am I better off now because I met you?
I still don't know.
Take care of yourself
Be good to yourself
stay out of trouble
settle down, be merry
don't forget to say your prayers...
"one baby, coming right up!"
I smile
as I try to think
what would I say to you? There's no secrets
hidden inside me
for you
nothing left unspoken,
you know what I think of you.
You granted my request
and knocked me up.
You took my hand, we walked a mile
but with a babe between us..
It was only a mile
but a long hard one it was
(still laughing)
You took care of me
You put up with me
You grew up with me...
thank you, from the bottom of my heart
I think of you every day, and smile
who else?
You are one of a kind
don't ever change
...and thank you for setting us both free
brass guitar slide
I panic when I see you, to this very day
because you make me remember
That Day, in 88
you were there for me
you were the only one who understood me
the only one who could make me feel
and so
I could not be with you any longer.
You think I didn't love you
but you know I did
I see you now
and I hope that you are happy
I was supposed to give you my hand in marriage
but all I can give you now is encouragement, from a distance
don't be angry, don't use rough words
let me do what I need to do
please keep searching, please keep going
please don't fall into a living sleep
please don't drown in the sea of chaos
You yourself saw that whale
and you yourself flew over it
please don't forget my words
please take what I have to give
it's all I can do for you now
vicious pink, august 88
You.
Because of you
I walked down those stairs
and into the small room
and did what I did.
You knew nothing of it
until after the fact
(I could not tell you)
You frightened me...
You asked for a ride home
seems innocent enough
I had no idea
No, I don't put the blame on you
it always takes two
but why did you use force
and why did you blow smoke in my face
and why of all things did you understand...
because I wanted to hate you.
You left me no choice
but to blame myself for my choice
But because of you
my life was changed
...should I say thank you?
Do you remember
that I saved your life at the lake?
Do you know
that I remember you
and I remember your words...
You called yourself a punk
had it tattooed across your knuckles
I told you not to insult yourself...
I'd like to think I knew more than you
I'd like to think I was an angel
But you enlightened me
when you told me not to change
"don't change the you...for me"
You said that you were adopted
and that you wanted to give life in return
I am no angel
That these words would come from you and not me
I think of you, and wonder
what has your life become?
And do you think of me, and hate
Brother
you left us at three minutes after midnight
you didn't say goodbye, you were only seventeen.
you left us to wallow in grief and tears
for years....
they said there was no pain
they said you didn't feel a thing
that it happened so fast
but what about us?
all of your pain was given to us
and we bore it for you.
You left a hole
too dark to mention
too deep to feel
too much to think about...
and now
it's too much to say
I miss my little brother.
Well....I'm not sure that I could back any of this up if confronted in person. Thus, blogging.
July 14, 2007 - Saturday
white mustang
It's not your fault
that I was a time bomb,
a volcano getting ready to erupt
You didn't know
how much I had hidden away inside
I would have told you
but you never asked.
I don't regret
my parting words, my letter
I stand behind every word, to this very day.
I learned from you,
I learned to value myself again.
Never in my life
had I ever been so blatantly used
as what I experienced with you.
But again, I cannot put the blame on you,
for it was my choice
to go along
with the situation at hand
I tried
to make things equal
did you even see
me pay my way
did you even see
that I wanted to be more than your current squeeze
Oh, you say, you considered getting married
so you wanted to marry a stranger?
Do you know
that women are like treasure chests
but we come with locks
for you to unlock
it's your job
to seek and explore and discover
Take the time
to uncover the layers
take the time
to find out her mysteries
take the time
and you will have
the love of your lifetime
"be here now"
What, are you satisfied now
that you fit into my story somehow?
Is that what you wanted?
To be part of my chaos,
to be a character in my play?
Well congratulations, you made it.
You scoffed at my words
you thought I was a little nutty
you saw my vulnerability, and took advantage
Yes you did.
But little did you know
that the things I told you are solid, and real
and very much alive
You see
God has hidden me
in a very good disguise
From all outer appearances, I am
just a silly girl
Well, maybe I am.
Ok...what kind words can I give to you?
hmmm...well, thank you for...
...still thinking....
sorry.
I've gone blank.
french fry
...and then there's you.
where to begin??
Did you hurt me, or did you help me?
Did you cover me in darkness, or help me to see the light?
Did you put me in a prison, or did you set me free?
You brought me into your world
I was fascinated, spellbound, as if in a dream
you changed my life, what more can I say?
nothing happened that I didn't want
you are so easy to view as the bad guy
but I know better now.
you were a teacher to me
without even knowing or trying.
Because of you, I learned
how weak I really was
Because of you, I learned
to run from chaos
Because of you, I learned
how to bury my heart
Because of you, I learned
that it's only life, and it goes on...
I hope you are happy these days,
I hope you have found your peace
thank you
for giving me a place to stay in the midst of my storm
for listening to me cry
for littering tracts wrapped in ten dollar bills in the Wal-Mart parking lot with me
for taking me on road trips, it was always an adventure with you
for changing my entire life.
How can one human being
have the power
to alter the course
of another human being's life?
But you did.
Am I better off now because I met you?
I still don't know.
Take care of yourself
Be good to yourself
stay out of trouble
settle down, be merry
don't forget to say your prayers...
"one baby, coming right up!"
I smile
as I try to think
what would I say to you? There's no secrets
hidden inside me
for you
nothing left unspoken,
you know what I think of you.
You granted my request
and knocked me up.
You took my hand, we walked a mile
but with a babe between us..
It was only a mile
but a long hard one it was
(still laughing)
You took care of me
You put up with me
You grew up with me...
thank you, from the bottom of my heart
I think of you every day, and smile
who else?
You are one of a kind
don't ever change
...and thank you for setting us both free
brass guitar slide
I panic when I see you, to this very day
because you make me remember
That Day, in 88
you were there for me
you were the only one who understood me
the only one who could make me feel
and so
I could not be with you any longer.
You think I didn't love you
but you know I did
I see you now
and I hope that you are happy
I was supposed to give you my hand in marriage
but all I can give you now is encouragement, from a distance
don't be angry, don't use rough words
let me do what I need to do
please keep searching, please keep going
please don't fall into a living sleep
please don't drown in the sea of chaos
You yourself saw that whale
and you yourself flew over it
please don't forget my words
please take what I have to give
it's all I can do for you now
vicious pink, august 88
You.
Because of you
I walked down those stairs
and into the small room
and did what I did.
You knew nothing of it
until after the fact
(I could not tell you)
You frightened me...
You asked for a ride home
seems innocent enough
I had no idea
No, I don't put the blame on you
it always takes two
but why did you use force
and why did you blow smoke in my face
and why of all things did you understand...
because I wanted to hate you.
You left me no choice
but to blame myself for my choice
But because of you
my life was changed
...should I say thank you?
Do you remember
that I saved your life at the lake?
Do you know
that I remember you
and I remember your words...
You called yourself a punk
had it tattooed across your knuckles
I told you not to insult yourself...
I'd like to think I knew more than you
I'd like to think I was an angel
But you enlightened me
when you told me not to change
"don't change the you...for me"
You said that you were adopted
and that you wanted to give life in return
I am no angel
That these words would come from you and not me
I think of you, and wonder
what has your life become?
And do you think of me, and hate
Brother
you left us at three minutes after midnight
you didn't say goodbye, you were only seventeen.
you left us to wallow in grief and tears
for years....
they said there was no pain
they said you didn't feel a thing
that it happened so fast
but what about us?
all of your pain was given to us
and we bore it for you.
You left a hole
too dark to mention
too deep to feel
too much to think about...
and now
it's too much to say
I miss my little brother.
January 7 - 12, 1981
January 7
Dear Diary,
I think today was okay. I called Gretchen & she is going ice-skating. (with me.) She's never been before & I have to show her how. It's gonna be sow fun! Oh I feel so bad! On the 5th we had a contest. I told Mrs. Witte that my uncle is an auctioneer. Confrences are coming up so I'm afraid she's going to mention it to Mommy. I'm really in for it, huh? This dumb pen is making a real mess on my fingers. I better stop using it! L- Amy
January 8
Dear Diary,
I hate dara! I didn't capitalize her name because dara isn't important. I bought her a record, & she can't even give me a piece of gum! I got an A-100 on my math test, 100 in science! I put lotion on dara's clock button- the one you push to sleep longer. When she pushes it in the morning, she'll think it's bugers or something. Also I'm not talking to her.
January 9
Dear Diary,
today was so fun! After school, Gretchen rode home with me. We went ice-skating at the Plaza of the Americas. It's the 3rd time I've been there. We're also going on Sunday. Every Sunday at 2:30 with Gramma. Me and Gretchen drew some pictures & I finally got my soft-sculpture book. A free fruit basket came with it. Gretchen has BIG tits. Love, Amy
January 10
Dear Diary,
Today was okay. We were going to see 9 To 5 at Redbird, but the tickets were all sold out. We took Gretchen home and went to visit the Roadys. Thank God it's Saturday! Tomorrow we are going ice-skating with Gramma. (Just me and Dara.) I know my way around great there. The clerk knows me good. I can skate backwards. Dara thinks she's so hot! Gretchen & I went skateboarding down the street. Love, A
January 11
Dear Diary,
Today was one of the worst days! We looked so forward to going ice-skating. And you know what? Gramma's car stalled and couldn't get over here from Cedar Creek. Also, Mommy is starting to get sick and me & Dara will have to watch Val & Joe all the time. I don't want to go to school tomorrow. Every Tues. & Friday (I mean Thurs.) I have to babysit Holli-4, John-6, Daniel-2. I get a dollar each time.
January 12
Dear Diary,
Today was ok. For the last half of school, Mrs. Witte had Jury duty. Mrs. Hopp, Jennifer's dumb mother, was our substitute. Sorry about my handwriting, but my dumb right thumb hurts like hell! Boy, if Mommy knew how much I cussed in this diary, she'd french-fry my elbows! Love, Amy
Dear Diary,
I think today was okay. I called Gretchen & she is going ice-skating. (with me.) She's never been before & I have to show her how. It's gonna be sow fun! Oh I feel so bad! On the 5th we had a contest. I told Mrs. Witte that my uncle is an auctioneer. Confrences are coming up so I'm afraid she's going to mention it to Mommy. I'm really in for it, huh? This dumb pen is making a real mess on my fingers. I better stop using it! L- Amy
January 8
Dear Diary,
I hate dara! I didn't capitalize her name because dara isn't important. I bought her a record, & she can't even give me a piece of gum! I got an A-100 on my math test, 100 in science! I put lotion on dara's clock button- the one you push to sleep longer. When she pushes it in the morning, she'll think it's bugers or something. Also I'm not talking to her.
January 9
Dear Diary,
today was so fun! After school, Gretchen rode home with me. We went ice-skating at the Plaza of the Americas. It's the 3rd time I've been there. We're also going on Sunday. Every Sunday at 2:30 with Gramma. Me and Gretchen drew some pictures & I finally got my soft-sculpture book. A free fruit basket came with it. Gretchen has BIG tits. Love, Amy
January 10
Dear Diary,
Today was okay. We were going to see 9 To 5 at Redbird, but the tickets were all sold out. We took Gretchen home and went to visit the Roadys. Thank God it's Saturday! Tomorrow we are going ice-skating with Gramma. (Just me and Dara.) I know my way around great there. The clerk knows me good. I can skate backwards. Dara thinks she's so hot! Gretchen & I went skateboarding down the street. Love, A
January 11
Dear Diary,
Today was one of the worst days! We looked so forward to going ice-skating. And you know what? Gramma's car stalled and couldn't get over here from Cedar Creek. Also, Mommy is starting to get sick and me & Dara will have to watch Val & Joe all the time. I don't want to go to school tomorrow. Every Tues. & Friday (I mean Thurs.) I have to babysit Holli-4, John-6, Daniel-2. I get a dollar each time.
January 12
Dear Diary,
Today was ok. For the last half of school, Mrs. Witte had Jury duty. Mrs. Hopp, Jennifer's dumb mother, was our substitute. Sorry about my handwriting, but my dumb right thumb hurts like hell! Boy, if Mommy knew how much I cussed in this diary, she'd french-fry my elbows! Love, Amy
on men, employment, getting rid of things and west nile virus
..more stuff I wrote a little over a month ago on one of my many myspace profiles.
July 17, 2007 - Tuesday
I'm already wanting to start deleting. I am resisting.
My only hope to not delete is to lock myself out. And then start fresh again on a new account. What, what's wrong with that? Who says you have to stay on the same darn page for centuries? I don't know how people do that.
Think about it. What would it be like if I had ALL of my thoughts on one profile. The reader would end up SO CONFUSED. It's better to stay organized. Dreams on this one. Real life stuff on that one. Turbulent and emotional letters containing everything you ever wanted to say but never did, on another one. And then a short and sweet one just saying the facts, on yet another. (This one you list under your maiden name. For the people who haven't talked to you in 20 years. I mean, come on now, do you really want THOSE folks knowing everything?)
And now, here's this one...what was supposed to contain my official documented journey back to society. But I can't do it. I can't stick to the subject. I am trying. But I cannot bring myself to think about such dull matters.
I'd rather tell you about some more things that happened to me that you probably wouldn't believe, but I get such a kick out of telling them anyway...such as, the time I was about to crash right into an 18-wheeler, not even a spare second in which to scream, so I just looked away and prepared for the crash...but next thing you know, I'm on the other side of the truck. No, see, you wouldn't believe me if I told you about that.
Nor would you believe me if I told you about the dream that came to me in the middle of the night in '05, that showed me of something terrible to come, in vivid, terrifying detail, and it came to pass, exactly as it was shown to me, a year later. It involved my daughter, and something she did. But because of the dream I was able to understand what really happened, on an unseen level, and pray accordingly. You wouldn't believe me if I told you about it. Who can I tell?
See, I want so bad to share the miraculous. But just as soon as I go there, I get all self-conscious, and start deleting.
I think I am going to have to go ahead and lock myself out of here. And start over. To save what I've written. Because my words are all I have right now. I have to save them.
Maybe the next account will be anonomous. I'll try it and see how I do with it. If I get lonely, and want my friends to come read again, I'll put it under my real name. Or not.
If you're from the 80's, just the sound of those three words will warm your heart. Black Leather Jacket. How could you have gotten by without one? And to wear your boyfriend's, oh I can't even go there. It always smelled like smoke and had all kinds of hidden treasures in the pockets. Notes. A lighter. A gum wrapper. A condom. A condom wrapper.
The best black leather jacket I ever owned was a tiny, cropped little thing, with a few silver chains here & there. It was really nice and really expensive. I didn't buy it, though.
In 1989 I worked at a music store. One day, my co-worker was like, "Amy! Look at those crazy guys! Oooh, look at the dark haired one!" I turned and observed these guys that she thought were so cute. Nah. No big deal. So I kept working, as my co-worker waltzed on over to them, and in her flirtiest voice imaginable, said, "Hey there, can I help you with anything?"
When their friendly responses came out in an Australian accent, she just about lost it. Got all giggly and did her very best to flirt. I watched this pitiful scene from the corner of my eye. What a fool she made herself to be. And then I noticed, the dark-haired one was staring at me. And that's how it all started.
Turns out, these guys had saved up money for two years to come and tour America. They started off in California and were working their way east. This was the very first stop they made in Dallas. Mr. Suave from Down Under then said, "I like your hair. It's different." My hair was totally whacked off at the time, sort of in a slanted cut. Almost shaved on one side, then slanted around and stopped at my chin on the other side. Turns out he was a hairdresser. Which I found hillarious. I tried to convey to him that here in Texas, if you like women, don't go telling them you're a hairdresser. He didn't get it.
So anyway, he then informs me that he "Really wants someone to show him Dallas. And would I like to go out with them?"
Well, I sort of did. One look at their vehicle should have been enough to deter me. It was a long, olive-green station wagon from, say, 1974. All beat up and quite frightening to look at.
My co-worker wasn't able to go that night, so I called up my friend Tiffany. I said, "Hey, stop what you're doing and get ready, I met these crazy Australians and we're all going out tonight."
So when we get to Tiffany's house, I ran up and knocked on her door. She opened it cautiously and peered out. She saw this ...beast of a vehicle. And then she saw these two long-haired crazy smiling laughing stoned guys sitting in it. Waving at her. She looked at me and said, "OMG Amy, I'm not getting in that car!!! It's AMERICA'S MOST WANTED!!!!" I laughed and talked her into it.
So anyway, for the next few weeks, I was a Dallas Tour Guide. Guess that's all I should say about that.
But before they left, the dark-haired one wanted to buy me something. A present. He insisted! So, ok, I thought long and hard about it. I decided that what I wanted the most was a new black leather jacket.
So we went to the West End and he got me the cutest one ever. I loved it. I cherished it. And then these guys left. But not without first dragging me off to a payphone, calling his parents up, all the way in Australia, and saying, "Hi Mum! I'm in Texas!" And then he turned to me and said, "here, would you mind saying hello to my mum? And can you say "ya'll?"
I'm not kidding. He really asked me that. So I did. In my sweetest Texas twang, I greeted his parents. They were dying laughing for some reason.
So I kept my jacket for a few years. But in '91 I became a mom, and stopped dressing a certain way. The jacket was stored away in a closet.
One day in '94 I saw an ad in a magazine for an organization of Christian bikers. I know, hot, right?? I read all about what they do and looked at the pictures of these guys. Scruffy and bearded and rough and lots of leather. *sigh*
And then it hit me. That's what I can do with my jacket! Rather than keep it stored away, I can donate it! So I packaged it all up, and put a little note with it, saying, "Maybe there's somebody you know who needs a new jacket..." And I sent it off.
About three months later, I get a letter in the mail. It had the CMA logo on the bottom. It was typed. It was an official thank you note from them!!! It said, "Dear Amy, thank you for donating your jacket. The timing was incredible. One of our members has a wife who has decided to start riding with him, and she needed a jacket. They were unable to afford one, and then, yours appears in the mail. We knew instantly that this was for her. What's more, she's a very petite woman, and your jacket was the perfect size. Thank you, and God Bless!"
Yup. I was floored. It made my day. When Tommy got home, I showed him the letter, and he was like, "What is he thanking you for? A jacket?" I realized that I had forgotten to tell him what I did. So I told him, and he goes, "What on earth? You just sent your leather jacket off to strangers?" And then he remembered where the jacket came from, and was like, "oh, nevermind! Good! Glad you finally got rid of it..." hee hee... I get away with so much.
Ok, so the story doesn't end here. A few years ago, I found myself in a situation where I really needed some prayer backup. In a major way. Sometimes I meddle in spiritual matters, no, not in the dark side, but you know, pray for people heavily, and sometimes end up tangled up in all kinds of warfare. This particular situation I really needed help with, but seeing as how I was single, and nobody to pray with me, I asked God to send me help. Sometimes, you just need a big gruff man to help you pray. But I didn't know anybody (still don't.), so I said, "God, I need backup here!" And then...I remembered the jacket, and the CMA. A whole pack of praying scoundrels on wheels. So I sent them an email.
I told them that several years back, I had donated my jacket. That I was glad it came at a good time. Blah blah blah. Then I got to my point.
I told them I had a prayer request. I gave them the low down on the situation at hand. I said, "please help...."
And they did. I wish I could go into further detail here. But I'd get busted. But it's just a little something I did.
To this day, when I see the CMA on the highway, with their black leather jackets, all rumbling around, I get covered in chills. Man those men are HOT!!!!
I promised myself that I wouldn't talk about the opposite sex, but seeing as how normal people don't remain single forever, they actually do the right thing and join forces with somebody, then that makes the topic a practical one, right? So the topic of men DOES fall into the category of life's basics and things that normal people do.
I just try to avoid the subject because when I go there in my head, I get lost in the dark woods. Because I am so pathetically inept in this area.
I reflect on my six years of marriage. Tommy should have known from the very start that I'd be a handful. When, before our wedding, he sweetly asked me to wear my hair down.
Because of this, I wore it up. Just because of the principle of the thing.
Hopefully I have come a long way. I wouldn't know, because I have not participated in a normal relationship since then. And that was a decade ago.
I hear all these women talk about "what they want in a man." This cracks me up.What, are men like menu items, custom-prepared just for us? Moreover, I'm a Christian. Yes I do take God's Word at face value. Yes I do believe that woman was created from man. And, although this is difficult to swallow, I accept the fact that we were created as man's "help mate." I cannot stand that term. Help mate? Help with what? The term "mate" is even worse. Makes me think of animals blindly drawn together and procreating.
Anyway. I don't have a problem with any of this, at all. Like I tell my sister, when you choose marriage, you choose that role. Go with it and do it and enjoy it. Let him lead. Crazy women, all trying to take the reins. Pure stupidity! Why would you want that burden in your life? Why?
I have been holding on to my own reins and my own team of horses for a decade. And I have driven myself into every muddy ditch along the road.
I feel bad for men, always having to make the practical and common sense type decisions, such as, where to live, etc etc. All the real world stuff falls on their shoulders and they have to figure it all out. I would never want to be a man.
Women have it made. Especially me. Because no matter how pleasant and peaceful I may be, going along with all things practical, there's nothing that can penetrate the inner workings of my head. My thoughts and ideas and words, all mine. It's like my own claimed territory that nobody can even attempt to set foot on. So you see, I aim for a healthy balance. I'll do whatever makes the most sense, on the surface. But don't touch my mind or the way I think. And don't even attempt an argument with me if it has to do with God.
My ex-husband can testify to this. He said that the most frustrating thing in the world is when I get my mind set on something. That there's no negotiating, and I see to it that it happens, no matter what. He said I am impossible. But he was laughing when he said it, so that should tell you something: I am the good kind of headache.
So now that I fully admit that I'm no feminist, and I know pretty much who I am, I stop and try to think like the nutty women who seem to think they know what they want. I think, "if I had my pick, what type of man would I choose?"
Can't do the bad boy anymore. Too much chaos and trouble. Can't do the older guy/I'm your Daddy thing either. Makes me nervous and they never listen to you. And if they do, they just sit there and smile. Why not go ahead and pat me on the head and throw me a bone while you're at it. I'm nobody's pet. Can't do the interesting musician/intellectual guy anymore. They're off on another mental planet that's even further away from earth than MY planet.
I want solid man who lives on Planet Earth. Who is strong enough to be with me but not overbearing. He needs to be able to listen. I think at this point in time, to request a man who actually understands is really pushing it. So for now I'll settle for simply being able to listen. Or not. Maybe that's what blogging is for?
The most important thing is, he can't take me too seriously or get frustrated too easily with me. Not hang on my every word and take issue with it. Because I will never shut up, and I will never, EVER modify myself or beliefs to fit in with a man's perspective. I would very much like to be matched with someone who it all just...flows. Fits together, with the greatest of ease. Where we can both just be ourselves, and that's more than enough. I get him. He gets me. Period.
Then we live and laugh and love and walk off into the sunset together.
Don't laugh. I know what I'm doing. I am, contrary to all outer appearances, the smartest girl in the world.
Oh, by the way, notice these blogs are comment-free? That's because I am currently in my "one-way street" mode. This means that all I have to say is the final word, and other people's thoughts would only be a distraction.
I wonder how much I've written in my lifetime. If I would have saved any of it, maybe I'd know. I can't save anything I write. Makes me feel clogged up. Same feeling I get when I've done a painting, and it just sits there, on the wall. I don't think our own creations are meant to remain with us, whether it's art, or music, or writing, or even your kids. Everything that comes from you is supposed to go through you and out into the world. If I hold on to things, I get depressed.
I've only met one person in my life who has the urge to get rid of things worse than me, and that's a lady I worked with several years ago. She was known for being very emotional and tempermental, but this took the cake: I walked into the break room one day and saw one of the chairs...just....sitting on top of the trash can. One of the chairs that we used at the table. Every day. To eat.
The chair looked very sad, as if someone had tried to throw it away, but discovered at the last minute that break room chairs do not fit into trash cans, and just gave up. And left it there, perched on top of the trash can.
I was standing there, observing this, wondering who on earth did this, and why. The chair was not damaged in any way. Then, in she walks. My coworker. I said, "Will you look at this! There's a chair in the trash!" And she said, "Yeah, I did that. I hate that chair."
I looked at her, thinking she must be kidding. I laughed. But no, she was dead serious. She then said, "It's ugly!"
I looked at it more carefully. Maybe she had a point. After a careful observation, I decided that this chair was no more ugly than all the rest in the break room. I said, "Um, that's one of the chairs that we use!" She then started cussing and said something to the effect of, I can pull it out if I want to, she didn't care one way or the other...
I remember this woman and think, thank goodness, there's somebody out there with a worse compulsion to throw things away than I have. At least I don't get rid of other people's things.
Well actually that's not true. But I can't tell it here, because in the rare event my ex-husband gets desperately bored and stumbles upon this blog, he might see it, and then I'd be busted. I can say this: it has to do with family heirloom silverware, brought over here around the turn of the century. It was hidden away in an old laundry hamper, wrapped in old sheets. In the garage.
And I had a garage sale one time. And donated everything left over. But I swear, I know nothing about that blue hamper with the folded white sheets that was sort of unusually heavy for a mere hamper with sheets in it.*
But about getting rid of things, I really do want to stop. And I want to stop getting rid of everything I create. No, I don't want to be normal, just a little more mature. But only in the areas that matter to me.
Most people have the problem of holding on too much, and have trouble letting go....but I have the opposite problem. I suppose both are equally bad.
*it was an accident, I promise.
Wait. About work...
What on earth do I do? Go back to selling vitamins? Do I even remember what all the vitamins and herbs do? At this point, no. Or, I do know, but there's like a ten second delay, and then it comes to me. Would this be ok with the customers?
That's also how it is when I log in to anything. It's the password that gets me every time. I sit there and wait...and then it comes. I've discovered that if I just relax, and don't get frustrated, it comes a few seconds sooner.
I was thinking, maybe I should start off doing something really, REALLY easy, just at first. Like being a cashier again. You know, there is nothing like the sweet peace of mind one gets as a cashier. Seriously. There have been many times in my life that I've relied on cashier work to get me by, and it's always like a little fun vacation job. You always have the funnest co-workers. Never mind the fact I'm usually old enough to be their mother. And it's all so easy, and fast-paced, and all you need to do is smile. And scan. And before you know it, the day is through. Your feet hurt, but you can sleep in peace. There's no need to toss and turn over work-related issues, simply because there are none.
Back to my career options. I could work at a little vitamin place that's just right around the corner, I actually worked there a few years ago. But it's a little awkward, because I sort of set the manager up with my mom, and it kind of worked, and then they started dating. But he's my friend too. Guess that makes it even stranger. Well, not really. Everybody's all one big family anyway, right?
It's the middle of the night and I can already see where this blog is going. Downhill.
There's a Wal-Mart nearby. I've been in it twice. The first time to use the bathroom when I was sitting around talking with this guy. What an embarrassing night that was. Could hardly keep my eyes open. Had the conversational skills of a tree stump. (me, not him.) I wasn't really prepared to grace a man with my presence at the moment. Not at all. And what's worse, I was wearing a sports bra. Yes. You heard me. It's all I had! Because I threw out everything remotely uncomfortable when all this first happened. So what's strange is, the second time I went in to that Wal-Mart was to redeem myself just a few nights later. I called up my friend AJ and was like, "You need to help me. I need a normal, pretty bra." So she picks me up and I got something cute. Was quite proud of my self. I think it was at this very moment that I subconsciously decided to come back to reality. It has just taken a while to manifest.
And then I showed her how to really get rid of something you don't want. Right there in the car, I pulled off my sports bra, and threw it out the car window. Into the Wal-Mart parking lot. I never want to see it again, ever, as long as I live.
I am supposed to be discussing serious matters. Work. But see, the way I see it is, all this thinking I do IS work. It's my kind of work. I do all the hard thinking, and report back to people who don't have time to. See? I think it works out beautifully.
I still don't know what I will do. Whatever is easy and doesn't make me feel like an idiot. And it has to be nearby. That leaves the vitamin place, and Wal-Mart. There's also a book store, that might be a good option. Whatever I choose I'm sure it will be nice. Just to feel like a part of the world again. To see other people every day. To talk to people in person and not online. To do something constructive.
All kidding aside, I don't think I'll ever complain about my job again. It's a really good thing to have.
First off, I promised that this page would stay on the subject of everything practical. Common sense stuff. Health. Money. Car. Job. Basically all the real-world stuff that I haven't really minded putting on the back burner for a while.
I really love my neurologist, Dr. B. She's so nice. She treats me like an intelligent human being, not just another patient on the conveyer belt that runs through the medical system. (I'm going through a state-funded hospital, need I say more?) So today, I'm sitting here thinking, maybe I should find out a few specifics to my situation, things I've been meaning to ask her, such as, 1) was the west nile detected in my blood, or my spinal fluid, or both? and 2) were just antibodies discovered, or was there live virus found as well? and 3) why on earth am I being sent to the neurosurgeon? ...I think these are all valid questions, mainly the one about my blood. I really need to know if my blood is funky or not. Because I'd kinda like to go to the dentist. But I'm SURE not going if I have to be like, "Oh, yes, excuse me...you might want to use an extra layer of gloves...and a mask..." How embarrassing would that be??
So I call the neurologist's office this morning, and find myself on hold for about fifteen minutes. Finally I get to talk to a human. This is the official transcript of our conversation:
"Neurogkfjgdkgk"
(me) "What?"
"Neurogkjfgkn7&3"
(me) "Is this the neurology department?"
"YES".
(I just don't understand these people who answer the phone at this hospital. It's worse than a fast-food drive through.)
(me) "Yes, I'd like to leave a message for Dr. B, please."
"Who?"
"Dr. B....I'm a patient of hers..."
"She isn't here anymore."
(silence)
(me) .."She...isn't there??"
"No. She left."
"Left? Well, she's my doctor!!"
"She graduated."
(silence, processing all of this, silence...)
"MA'AM? Are you there?"
(me) "Well, I have some questions for her! I need to talk to her."
"What's wrong?"
I quickly tried to explain my questions, but before I could finish, she cuts me off and goes,
"YOU HAVE WEST NILE VIRUS??? HONEY YOU NEED TO GET TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM!!"
*sigh*
I said, "No, no, NO!!!!" Listen to me!!! I have been treated by Dr. B for months...I'm fine...I just have some questions!!"
"Well when are you coming back in?"
"My next appointment is August 7."
"I think you have a new doctor. Yes, you do....His name is Dr. C."
so here we go again. Will I have to re-introduce myself to this Dr. C? Will he want to order more tests? Even if he does, I'm not doing it. In fact, as soon as I got off the phone from the neurologist's office, I decided to take advantage of the situation. There was an EMG ordered for me to have done next month. A horrendous procedure. But after hearing that Dr.B is gone, I just called up the lab and was like, "Yes, this is such and such, I'd like to cancel the EMG scheduled for ......" They were like, "OK."
Hopefully the EMG was just a bad idea of Dr. B, and the new doc won't think of that.
Oh, I did manage to leave a message for my new doc, and he's supposed to get back with me next week to answer my questions.
The funny thing is, I haven't really cared until now. I just haven't wanted to know the specifics. It's all been like a dream, and I've just been passively floating along...
But after hearing the good news the other day, that it's just my memory that's bad, and not my whole brain, I am overjoyed, to say the least. My energy is through the roof. But nothing to do with it, except write.
July 17, 2007 - Tuesday
I'm already wanting to start deleting. I am resisting.
My only hope to not delete is to lock myself out. And then start fresh again on a new account. What, what's wrong with that? Who says you have to stay on the same darn page for centuries? I don't know how people do that.
Think about it. What would it be like if I had ALL of my thoughts on one profile. The reader would end up SO CONFUSED. It's better to stay organized. Dreams on this one. Real life stuff on that one. Turbulent and emotional letters containing everything you ever wanted to say but never did, on another one. And then a short and sweet one just saying the facts, on yet another. (This one you list under your maiden name. For the people who haven't talked to you in 20 years. I mean, come on now, do you really want THOSE folks knowing everything?)
And now, here's this one...what was supposed to contain my official documented journey back to society. But I can't do it. I can't stick to the subject. I am trying. But I cannot bring myself to think about such dull matters.
I'd rather tell you about some more things that happened to me that you probably wouldn't believe, but I get such a kick out of telling them anyway...such as, the time I was about to crash right into an 18-wheeler, not even a spare second in which to scream, so I just looked away and prepared for the crash...but next thing you know, I'm on the other side of the truck. No, see, you wouldn't believe me if I told you about that.
Nor would you believe me if I told you about the dream that came to me in the middle of the night in '05, that showed me of something terrible to come, in vivid, terrifying detail, and it came to pass, exactly as it was shown to me, a year later. It involved my daughter, and something she did. But because of the dream I was able to understand what really happened, on an unseen level, and pray accordingly. You wouldn't believe me if I told you about it. Who can I tell?
See, I want so bad to share the miraculous. But just as soon as I go there, I get all self-conscious, and start deleting.
I think I am going to have to go ahead and lock myself out of here. And start over. To save what I've written. Because my words are all I have right now. I have to save them.
Maybe the next account will be anonomous. I'll try it and see how I do with it. If I get lonely, and want my friends to come read again, I'll put it under my real name. Or not.
If you're from the 80's, just the sound of those three words will warm your heart. Black Leather Jacket. How could you have gotten by without one? And to wear your boyfriend's, oh I can't even go there. It always smelled like smoke and had all kinds of hidden treasures in the pockets. Notes. A lighter. A gum wrapper. A condom. A condom wrapper.
The best black leather jacket I ever owned was a tiny, cropped little thing, with a few silver chains here & there. It was really nice and really expensive. I didn't buy it, though.
In 1989 I worked at a music store. One day, my co-worker was like, "Amy! Look at those crazy guys! Oooh, look at the dark haired one!" I turned and observed these guys that she thought were so cute. Nah. No big deal. So I kept working, as my co-worker waltzed on over to them, and in her flirtiest voice imaginable, said, "Hey there, can I help you with anything?"
When their friendly responses came out in an Australian accent, she just about lost it. Got all giggly and did her very best to flirt. I watched this pitiful scene from the corner of my eye. What a fool she made herself to be. And then I noticed, the dark-haired one was staring at me. And that's how it all started.
Turns out, these guys had saved up money for two years to come and tour America. They started off in California and were working their way east. This was the very first stop they made in Dallas. Mr. Suave from Down Under then said, "I like your hair. It's different." My hair was totally whacked off at the time, sort of in a slanted cut. Almost shaved on one side, then slanted around and stopped at my chin on the other side. Turns out he was a hairdresser. Which I found hillarious. I tried to convey to him that here in Texas, if you like women, don't go telling them you're a hairdresser. He didn't get it.
So anyway, he then informs me that he "Really wants someone to show him Dallas. And would I like to go out with them?"
Well, I sort of did. One look at their vehicle should have been enough to deter me. It was a long, olive-green station wagon from, say, 1974. All beat up and quite frightening to look at.
My co-worker wasn't able to go that night, so I called up my friend Tiffany. I said, "Hey, stop what you're doing and get ready, I met these crazy Australians and we're all going out tonight."
So when we get to Tiffany's house, I ran up and knocked on her door. She opened it cautiously and peered out. She saw this ...beast of a vehicle. And then she saw these two long-haired crazy smiling laughing stoned guys sitting in it. Waving at her. She looked at me and said, "OMG Amy, I'm not getting in that car!!! It's AMERICA'S MOST WANTED!!!!" I laughed and talked her into it.
So anyway, for the next few weeks, I was a Dallas Tour Guide. Guess that's all I should say about that.
But before they left, the dark-haired one wanted to buy me something. A present. He insisted! So, ok, I thought long and hard about it. I decided that what I wanted the most was a new black leather jacket.
So we went to the West End and he got me the cutest one ever. I loved it. I cherished it. And then these guys left. But not without first dragging me off to a payphone, calling his parents up, all the way in Australia, and saying, "Hi Mum! I'm in Texas!" And then he turned to me and said, "here, would you mind saying hello to my mum? And can you say "ya'll?"
I'm not kidding. He really asked me that. So I did. In my sweetest Texas twang, I greeted his parents. They were dying laughing for some reason.
So I kept my jacket for a few years. But in '91 I became a mom, and stopped dressing a certain way. The jacket was stored away in a closet.
One day in '94 I saw an ad in a magazine for an organization of Christian bikers. I know, hot, right?? I read all about what they do and looked at the pictures of these guys. Scruffy and bearded and rough and lots of leather. *sigh*
And then it hit me. That's what I can do with my jacket! Rather than keep it stored away, I can donate it! So I packaged it all up, and put a little note with it, saying, "Maybe there's somebody you know who needs a new jacket..." And I sent it off.
About three months later, I get a letter in the mail. It had the CMA logo on the bottom. It was typed. It was an official thank you note from them!!! It said, "Dear Amy, thank you for donating your jacket. The timing was incredible. One of our members has a wife who has decided to start riding with him, and she needed a jacket. They were unable to afford one, and then, yours appears in the mail. We knew instantly that this was for her. What's more, she's a very petite woman, and your jacket was the perfect size. Thank you, and God Bless!"
Yup. I was floored. It made my day. When Tommy got home, I showed him the letter, and he was like, "What is he thanking you for? A jacket?" I realized that I had forgotten to tell him what I did. So I told him, and he goes, "What on earth? You just sent your leather jacket off to strangers?" And then he remembered where the jacket came from, and was like, "oh, nevermind! Good! Glad you finally got rid of it..." hee hee... I get away with so much.
Ok, so the story doesn't end here. A few years ago, I found myself in a situation where I really needed some prayer backup. In a major way. Sometimes I meddle in spiritual matters, no, not in the dark side, but you know, pray for people heavily, and sometimes end up tangled up in all kinds of warfare. This particular situation I really needed help with, but seeing as how I was single, and nobody to pray with me, I asked God to send me help. Sometimes, you just need a big gruff man to help you pray. But I didn't know anybody (still don't.), so I said, "God, I need backup here!" And then...I remembered the jacket, and the CMA. A whole pack of praying scoundrels on wheels. So I sent them an email.
I told them that several years back, I had donated my jacket. That I was glad it came at a good time. Blah blah blah. Then I got to my point.
I told them I had a prayer request. I gave them the low down on the situation at hand. I said, "please help...."
And they did. I wish I could go into further detail here. But I'd get busted. But it's just a little something I did.
To this day, when I see the CMA on the highway, with their black leather jackets, all rumbling around, I get covered in chills. Man those men are HOT!!!!
I promised myself that I wouldn't talk about the opposite sex, but seeing as how normal people don't remain single forever, they actually do the right thing and join forces with somebody, then that makes the topic a practical one, right? So the topic of men DOES fall into the category of life's basics and things that normal people do.
I just try to avoid the subject because when I go there in my head, I get lost in the dark woods. Because I am so pathetically inept in this area.
I reflect on my six years of marriage. Tommy should have known from the very start that I'd be a handful. When, before our wedding, he sweetly asked me to wear my hair down.
Because of this, I wore it up. Just because of the principle of the thing.
Hopefully I have come a long way. I wouldn't know, because I have not participated in a normal relationship since then. And that was a decade ago.
I hear all these women talk about "what they want in a man." This cracks me up.What, are men like menu items, custom-prepared just for us? Moreover, I'm a Christian. Yes I do take God's Word at face value. Yes I do believe that woman was created from man. And, although this is difficult to swallow, I accept the fact that we were created as man's "help mate." I cannot stand that term. Help mate? Help with what? The term "mate" is even worse. Makes me think of animals blindly drawn together and procreating.
Anyway. I don't have a problem with any of this, at all. Like I tell my sister, when you choose marriage, you choose that role. Go with it and do it and enjoy it. Let him lead. Crazy women, all trying to take the reins. Pure stupidity! Why would you want that burden in your life? Why?
I have been holding on to my own reins and my own team of horses for a decade. And I have driven myself into every muddy ditch along the road.
I feel bad for men, always having to make the practical and common sense type decisions, such as, where to live, etc etc. All the real world stuff falls on their shoulders and they have to figure it all out. I would never want to be a man.
Women have it made. Especially me. Because no matter how pleasant and peaceful I may be, going along with all things practical, there's nothing that can penetrate the inner workings of my head. My thoughts and ideas and words, all mine. It's like my own claimed territory that nobody can even attempt to set foot on. So you see, I aim for a healthy balance. I'll do whatever makes the most sense, on the surface. But don't touch my mind or the way I think. And don't even attempt an argument with me if it has to do with God.
My ex-husband can testify to this. He said that the most frustrating thing in the world is when I get my mind set on something. That there's no negotiating, and I see to it that it happens, no matter what. He said I am impossible. But he was laughing when he said it, so that should tell you something: I am the good kind of headache.
So now that I fully admit that I'm no feminist, and I know pretty much who I am, I stop and try to think like the nutty women who seem to think they know what they want. I think, "if I had my pick, what type of man would I choose?"
Can't do the bad boy anymore. Too much chaos and trouble. Can't do the older guy/I'm your Daddy thing either. Makes me nervous and they never listen to you. And if they do, they just sit there and smile. Why not go ahead and pat me on the head and throw me a bone while you're at it. I'm nobody's pet. Can't do the interesting musician/intellectual guy anymore. They're off on another mental planet that's even further away from earth than MY planet.
I want solid man who lives on Planet Earth. Who is strong enough to be with me but not overbearing. He needs to be able to listen. I think at this point in time, to request a man who actually understands is really pushing it. So for now I'll settle for simply being able to listen. Or not. Maybe that's what blogging is for?
The most important thing is, he can't take me too seriously or get frustrated too easily with me. Not hang on my every word and take issue with it. Because I will never shut up, and I will never, EVER modify myself or beliefs to fit in with a man's perspective. I would very much like to be matched with someone who it all just...flows. Fits together, with the greatest of ease. Where we can both just be ourselves, and that's more than enough. I get him. He gets me. Period.
Then we live and laugh and love and walk off into the sunset together.
Don't laugh. I know what I'm doing. I am, contrary to all outer appearances, the smartest girl in the world.
Oh, by the way, notice these blogs are comment-free? That's because I am currently in my "one-way street" mode. This means that all I have to say is the final word, and other people's thoughts would only be a distraction.
I wonder how much I've written in my lifetime. If I would have saved any of it, maybe I'd know. I can't save anything I write. Makes me feel clogged up. Same feeling I get when I've done a painting, and it just sits there, on the wall. I don't think our own creations are meant to remain with us, whether it's art, or music, or writing, or even your kids. Everything that comes from you is supposed to go through you and out into the world. If I hold on to things, I get depressed.
I've only met one person in my life who has the urge to get rid of things worse than me, and that's a lady I worked with several years ago. She was known for being very emotional and tempermental, but this took the cake: I walked into the break room one day and saw one of the chairs...just....sitting on top of the trash can. One of the chairs that we used at the table. Every day. To eat.
The chair looked very sad, as if someone had tried to throw it away, but discovered at the last minute that break room chairs do not fit into trash cans, and just gave up. And left it there, perched on top of the trash can.
I was standing there, observing this, wondering who on earth did this, and why. The chair was not damaged in any way. Then, in she walks. My coworker. I said, "Will you look at this! There's a chair in the trash!" And she said, "Yeah, I did that. I hate that chair."
I looked at her, thinking she must be kidding. I laughed. But no, she was dead serious. She then said, "It's ugly!"
I looked at it more carefully. Maybe she had a point. After a careful observation, I decided that this chair was no more ugly than all the rest in the break room. I said, "Um, that's one of the chairs that we use!" She then started cussing and said something to the effect of, I can pull it out if I want to, she didn't care one way or the other...
I remember this woman and think, thank goodness, there's somebody out there with a worse compulsion to throw things away than I have. At least I don't get rid of other people's things.
Well actually that's not true. But I can't tell it here, because in the rare event my ex-husband gets desperately bored and stumbles upon this blog, he might see it, and then I'd be busted. I can say this: it has to do with family heirloom silverware, brought over here around the turn of the century. It was hidden away in an old laundry hamper, wrapped in old sheets. In the garage.
And I had a garage sale one time. And donated everything left over. But I swear, I know nothing about that blue hamper with the folded white sheets that was sort of unusually heavy for a mere hamper with sheets in it.*
But about getting rid of things, I really do want to stop. And I want to stop getting rid of everything I create. No, I don't want to be normal, just a little more mature. But only in the areas that matter to me.
Most people have the problem of holding on too much, and have trouble letting go....but I have the opposite problem. I suppose both are equally bad.
*it was an accident, I promise.
Wait. About work...
What on earth do I do? Go back to selling vitamins? Do I even remember what all the vitamins and herbs do? At this point, no. Or, I do know, but there's like a ten second delay, and then it comes to me. Would this be ok with the customers?
That's also how it is when I log in to anything. It's the password that gets me every time. I sit there and wait...and then it comes. I've discovered that if I just relax, and don't get frustrated, it comes a few seconds sooner.
I was thinking, maybe I should start off doing something really, REALLY easy, just at first. Like being a cashier again. You know, there is nothing like the sweet peace of mind one gets as a cashier. Seriously. There have been many times in my life that I've relied on cashier work to get me by, and it's always like a little fun vacation job. You always have the funnest co-workers. Never mind the fact I'm usually old enough to be their mother. And it's all so easy, and fast-paced, and all you need to do is smile. And scan. And before you know it, the day is through. Your feet hurt, but you can sleep in peace. There's no need to toss and turn over work-related issues, simply because there are none.
Back to my career options. I could work at a little vitamin place that's just right around the corner, I actually worked there a few years ago. But it's a little awkward, because I sort of set the manager up with my mom, and it kind of worked, and then they started dating. But he's my friend too. Guess that makes it even stranger. Well, not really. Everybody's all one big family anyway, right?
It's the middle of the night and I can already see where this blog is going. Downhill.
There's a Wal-Mart nearby. I've been in it twice. The first time to use the bathroom when I was sitting around talking with this guy. What an embarrassing night that was. Could hardly keep my eyes open. Had the conversational skills of a tree stump. (me, not him.) I wasn't really prepared to grace a man with my presence at the moment. Not at all. And what's worse, I was wearing a sports bra. Yes. You heard me. It's all I had! Because I threw out everything remotely uncomfortable when all this first happened. So what's strange is, the second time I went in to that Wal-Mart was to redeem myself just a few nights later. I called up my friend AJ and was like, "You need to help me. I need a normal, pretty bra." So she picks me up and I got something cute. Was quite proud of my self. I think it was at this very moment that I subconsciously decided to come back to reality. It has just taken a while to manifest.
And then I showed her how to really get rid of something you don't want. Right there in the car, I pulled off my sports bra, and threw it out the car window. Into the Wal-Mart parking lot. I never want to see it again, ever, as long as I live.
I am supposed to be discussing serious matters. Work. But see, the way I see it is, all this thinking I do IS work. It's my kind of work. I do all the hard thinking, and report back to people who don't have time to. See? I think it works out beautifully.
I still don't know what I will do. Whatever is easy and doesn't make me feel like an idiot. And it has to be nearby. That leaves the vitamin place, and Wal-Mart. There's also a book store, that might be a good option. Whatever I choose I'm sure it will be nice. Just to feel like a part of the world again. To see other people every day. To talk to people in person and not online. To do something constructive.
All kidding aside, I don't think I'll ever complain about my job again. It's a really good thing to have.
First off, I promised that this page would stay on the subject of everything practical. Common sense stuff. Health. Money. Car. Job. Basically all the real-world stuff that I haven't really minded putting on the back burner for a while.
I really love my neurologist, Dr. B. She's so nice. She treats me like an intelligent human being, not just another patient on the conveyer belt that runs through the medical system. (I'm going through a state-funded hospital, need I say more?) So today, I'm sitting here thinking, maybe I should find out a few specifics to my situation, things I've been meaning to ask her, such as, 1) was the west nile detected in my blood, or my spinal fluid, or both? and 2) were just antibodies discovered, or was there live virus found as well? and 3) why on earth am I being sent to the neurosurgeon? ...I think these are all valid questions, mainly the one about my blood. I really need to know if my blood is funky or not. Because I'd kinda like to go to the dentist. But I'm SURE not going if I have to be like, "Oh, yes, excuse me...you might want to use an extra layer of gloves...and a mask..." How embarrassing would that be??
So I call the neurologist's office this morning, and find myself on hold for about fifteen minutes. Finally I get to talk to a human. This is the official transcript of our conversation:
"Neurogkfjgdkgk"
(me) "What?"
"Neurogkjfgkn7&3"
(me) "Is this the neurology department?"
"YES".
(I just don't understand these people who answer the phone at this hospital. It's worse than a fast-food drive through.)
(me) "Yes, I'd like to leave a message for Dr. B, please."
"Who?"
"Dr. B....I'm a patient of hers..."
"She isn't here anymore."
(silence)
(me) .."She...isn't there??"
"No. She left."
"Left? Well, she's my doctor!!"
"She graduated."
(silence, processing all of this, silence...)
"MA'AM? Are you there?"
(me) "Well, I have some questions for her! I need to talk to her."
"What's wrong?"
I quickly tried to explain my questions, but before I could finish, she cuts me off and goes,
"YOU HAVE WEST NILE VIRUS??? HONEY YOU NEED TO GET TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM!!"
*sigh*
I said, "No, no, NO!!!!" Listen to me!!! I have been treated by Dr. B for months...I'm fine...I just have some questions!!"
"Well when are you coming back in?"
"My next appointment is August 7."
"I think you have a new doctor. Yes, you do....His name is Dr. C."
so here we go again. Will I have to re-introduce myself to this Dr. C? Will he want to order more tests? Even if he does, I'm not doing it. In fact, as soon as I got off the phone from the neurologist's office, I decided to take advantage of the situation. There was an EMG ordered for me to have done next month. A horrendous procedure. But after hearing that Dr.B is gone, I just called up the lab and was like, "Yes, this is such and such, I'd like to cancel the EMG scheduled for ......" They were like, "OK."
Hopefully the EMG was just a bad idea of Dr. B, and the new doc won't think of that.
Oh, I did manage to leave a message for my new doc, and he's supposed to get back with me next week to answer my questions.
The funny thing is, I haven't really cared until now. I just haven't wanted to know the specifics. It's all been like a dream, and I've just been passively floating along...
But after hearing the good news the other day, that it's just my memory that's bad, and not my whole brain, I am overjoyed, to say the least. My energy is through the roof. But nothing to do with it, except write.
I just found my old diary from 1981!
I was 11 years old? Or 10 & 1/2? I'm too lazy to do the math. Anyway, I'm not going to correct any of the spelling or the grammar.
January 1
Dear Diary,
I will be writing in you for a whole year, so I guess you'll have to know me good. I have shoulder-lengtht hair, (blonde), blue eyes, average height for an eleven-year-old, and just a tad of freckels. I'll wright in you tonight.
Hi! I'm sick with the flu right now. My head hurts alot. Right now I'm in bed. Daddy is putting a shelving unit up in Val & Joe's room. I took 2 aspirins tonight, and 3 vitamin C's. I put one aspirin down the drain (secretly) because they dissolve in your mouth before you swallow them. They taste terrible!
January 2
Dear Diary,
Today I seem to be doing alot better. My fever is gone and Mommy said I'm getting over the flu. Today I read Mommy's old diary. It was so funny! Someday my own kids will read this! Dara & Dawn, her friend, went ice-skating and I couldn't go. Next friday I'm going with Gretchen. I made chocolate-chip cookies while Daddy went to Ovilla. Dara and Dawn are eating spaghetti & Val is showing off like crazy! Right now I'm watching "Welcome Back Kotter". Bye- A.
January 3
Dear Diary,
Tomorrow we are going ice-skating with Gramma. I can't wait! This morning we had blueberry muffins. I had a hot-dog for lunch & a hamburger pattie for dinner. Me and Dara babysitted today. New Year's Eve I babysitted and got $10! I'm all better from the flu, but my throat still hurts. Joe is crying like crazy! Today I was sitting on the couch, and I picked a buger & put it on the couch. Then Val came along and sat on it. She wiggled and whined & wondered what that gooey thing was on her leg. It was so funny!
January 4
Dear Diary,
Today was so much fun! Gramma took me & Dara ice-skating. We stayed there (Plaza of the Americas) for 2 hours. Now every Sunday we're going there. Today I was babysitting Val & Joe, and Daddy was at Ovilla. I was walking by and looked at the window and saw a shadow at the window. I thought it was a crook but it turned out to be Daddy, trying to get in cause I locked all of the doors. I was so scared! I'm going to get my own ice-skates. I can't wait! Love- A.
January 5
DARA JUST NOW GOT HER PERIOD ! 9:15-p.m.
Dear Diary,
School started today. Today we took a test in math. It was division, so I surely didn't do good. Today was so embarrasing! I haven't shaved ANY over the holidays and my legs were so stubble. Everyone was staring at me. When I got home I shaved. I won a contest in school today where we saw who can say our spelling words the fastest. I got down to 6 seconds. I think Eric & Mike, Jon, Jason, & Bruce like me. They're always staring at me. Love- A.
January 6
Dear Diary,
Today was okay. We started a new unit in math. It's division. Today I won a contest in school. It was a contest to see who could read out the spelling words the fastest. I won a sucker. Woooo I don't have any homework. I babysat Valerie today. It's getting to be a daily pastime! I hate Tina. She thinks she's my overseer. I'm almost done with my book. Tomorrow I'll write my report. Sorry this is so boring, but it was a boring day! See you tomorrow- A.'
January 1
Dear Diary,
I will be writing in you for a whole year, so I guess you'll have to know me good. I have shoulder-lengtht hair, (blonde), blue eyes, average height for an eleven-year-old, and just a tad of freckels. I'll wright in you tonight.
Hi! I'm sick with the flu right now. My head hurts alot. Right now I'm in bed. Daddy is putting a shelving unit up in Val & Joe's room. I took 2 aspirins tonight, and 3 vitamin C's. I put one aspirin down the drain (secretly) because they dissolve in your mouth before you swallow them. They taste terrible!
January 2
Dear Diary,
Today I seem to be doing alot better. My fever is gone and Mommy said I'm getting over the flu. Today I read Mommy's old diary. It was so funny! Someday my own kids will read this! Dara & Dawn, her friend, went ice-skating and I couldn't go. Next friday I'm going with Gretchen. I made chocolate-chip cookies while Daddy went to Ovilla. Dara and Dawn are eating spaghetti & Val is showing off like crazy! Right now I'm watching "Welcome Back Kotter". Bye- A.
January 3
Dear Diary,
Tomorrow we are going ice-skating with Gramma. I can't wait! This morning we had blueberry muffins. I had a hot-dog for lunch & a hamburger pattie for dinner. Me and Dara babysitted today. New Year's Eve I babysitted and got $10! I'm all better from the flu, but my throat still hurts. Joe is crying like crazy! Today I was sitting on the couch, and I picked a buger & put it on the couch. Then Val came along and sat on it. She wiggled and whined & wondered what that gooey thing was on her leg. It was so funny!
January 4
Dear Diary,
Today was so much fun! Gramma took me & Dara ice-skating. We stayed there (Plaza of the Americas) for 2 hours. Now every Sunday we're going there. Today I was babysitting Val & Joe, and Daddy was at Ovilla. I was walking by and looked at the window and saw a shadow at the window. I thought it was a crook but it turned out to be Daddy, trying to get in cause I locked all of the doors. I was so scared! I'm going to get my own ice-skates. I can't wait! Love- A.
January 5
DARA JUST NOW GOT HER PERIOD ! 9:15-p.m.
Dear Diary,
School started today. Today we took a test in math. It was division, so I surely didn't do good. Today was so embarrasing! I haven't shaved ANY over the holidays and my legs were so stubble. Everyone was staring at me. When I got home I shaved. I won a contest in school today where we saw who can say our spelling words the fastest. I got down to 6 seconds. I think Eric & Mike, Jon, Jason, & Bruce like me. They're always staring at me. Love- A.
January 6
Dear Diary,
Today was okay. We started a new unit in math. It's division. Today I won a contest in school. It was a contest to see who could read out the spelling words the fastest. I won a sucker. Woooo I don't have any homework. I babysat Valerie today. It's getting to be a daily pastime! I hate Tina. She thinks she's my overseer. I'm almost done with my book. Tomorrow I'll write my report. Sorry this is so boring, but it was a boring day! See you tomorrow- A.'
Heaven
this is something I wrote recently on heaven. Just so you know exactly how conservative and crabby I really am when it comes to God.
I don't understand His love for us, but I know it would blow our minds if we fully understood it. I don't know for sure the exact timeline of end-time events, and in what exact order, and at what point in time the church will be raptured, and I'm glad I don't, becuase I don't want to get all caught up in debates. I used to think we'd be zapped off the earth before any trouble came our way, but that's a pretty selfish outlook if you ask me. The way I see it is, if He wants to come get us now, yay! If He waits till the middle of the game, even better. If we are not redeemed till the very end, as in, dying for our faith, so be it. Many Christians have suffered this fate in the past, and many are enduring this even as we speak, in other countries. Who are we to think we should be spared? Are you willing and prepared to give your life for your faith in Christ? Would you? Or would you turn and run, or deny your faith? Anyway, why all the debate on the timeline? I see it as a distraction. We need to keep our focus on maintaining our relationship with God, doing what we are here to do, until He says it's time to go. Heaven and all it's glory awaits. His Word says we will have rich reward there, including, but not limited to, a mansion?!? Seriously, I don't know what I'd do with one. This is why I want nothing to do with treasure on earth. What's the point? How bout just do without, and enjoy whatever He gives you in heaven? Personally, I am leaning more and more towards trailer park living. I'm getting down to the core of who I really am, and believe you me, it's not a pretty sight. What was I saying? Oh I was going to mention angels. I'm against that too. No, not angels, but the whole fascination with them. They're not supposed to be admired and celebrated and all that. Take your angel decorations down. Get rid of your angel jewelry. They are ministering spirits created to help out God, period. I thank God for His protection, and I thank God for His angels. But I leave it at that. And never pray to angels! And never pray or talk to someone you love who has died. That's bad news. What, did you think my heaven page would be all fluffy and happy with little floating cherubs playing harps? That's another thing! We are not going to be floating around with angel wings, eating bon bons for eternity. His Word says that we will have work to do, and that we will be praising Him. We were created to praise Him. Have you ever tried it? Have you ever just cut loose and praised Him? The first few times I did, it was weird. Then I got more free with it. Then I discovered how incredible it makes you feel. Just get your mind off of yourself, and think about Him. Think about how He actually took the time to create YOU. He made you up. He thought of your personality and everything about you. It's no accident the way you are. You are His design! I mean, when you really think about it, that is downright amazing. Why not thank Him? I do, all the time. I'm like, God, thank you for actually taking time out and thinking of me and making me. For real. Don't take your existence for granted! You know what else? He IS love. He has so much love to give, and you are one more vessel that was created to be able to receive this love. Open up. Open up to God. Let Him pour His love into you. Let go. Receive. Let Him bring healing and restoration to your body, mind, and soul. Thank Him for His love in this dark world. Ask Him to shed light on your path. Ask Him to give you wisdom. People, God is so good, and He loves us SO MUCH, unconditionally. Trust Him. Believe Him. Receive His gift of eternal life, turn to Jesus. Get to know Him. Invest in a relationship with Him. Lay down your old ways, kiss your past goodbye. Read His Word. Spend time in prayer. Thank Him for His blood that was shed, it's what gives you and me the right to be called children of God. Not works or deeds or good intentions. Oh, and one more thing...keep it real. We are scruffy imperfect humans, all of us. I think that's all. For now. ♥
I don't understand His love for us, but I know it would blow our minds if we fully understood it. I don't know for sure the exact timeline of end-time events, and in what exact order, and at what point in time the church will be raptured, and I'm glad I don't, becuase I don't want to get all caught up in debates. I used to think we'd be zapped off the earth before any trouble came our way, but that's a pretty selfish outlook if you ask me. The way I see it is, if He wants to come get us now, yay! If He waits till the middle of the game, even better. If we are not redeemed till the very end, as in, dying for our faith, so be it. Many Christians have suffered this fate in the past, and many are enduring this even as we speak, in other countries. Who are we to think we should be spared? Are you willing and prepared to give your life for your faith in Christ? Would you? Or would you turn and run, or deny your faith? Anyway, why all the debate on the timeline? I see it as a distraction. We need to keep our focus on maintaining our relationship with God, doing what we are here to do, until He says it's time to go. Heaven and all it's glory awaits. His Word says we will have rich reward there, including, but not limited to, a mansion?!? Seriously, I don't know what I'd do with one. This is why I want nothing to do with treasure on earth. What's the point? How bout just do without, and enjoy whatever He gives you in heaven? Personally, I am leaning more and more towards trailer park living. I'm getting down to the core of who I really am, and believe you me, it's not a pretty sight. What was I saying? Oh I was going to mention angels. I'm against that too. No, not angels, but the whole fascination with them. They're not supposed to be admired and celebrated and all that. Take your angel decorations down. Get rid of your angel jewelry. They are ministering spirits created to help out God, period. I thank God for His protection, and I thank God for His angels. But I leave it at that. And never pray to angels! And never pray or talk to someone you love who has died. That's bad news. What, did you think my heaven page would be all fluffy and happy with little floating cherubs playing harps? That's another thing! We are not going to be floating around with angel wings, eating bon bons for eternity. His Word says that we will have work to do, and that we will be praising Him. We were created to praise Him. Have you ever tried it? Have you ever just cut loose and praised Him? The first few times I did, it was weird. Then I got more free with it. Then I discovered how incredible it makes you feel. Just get your mind off of yourself, and think about Him. Think about how He actually took the time to create YOU. He made you up. He thought of your personality and everything about you. It's no accident the way you are. You are His design! I mean, when you really think about it, that is downright amazing. Why not thank Him? I do, all the time. I'm like, God, thank you for actually taking time out and thinking of me and making me. For real. Don't take your existence for granted! You know what else? He IS love. He has so much love to give, and you are one more vessel that was created to be able to receive this love. Open up. Open up to God. Let Him pour His love into you. Let go. Receive. Let Him bring healing and restoration to your body, mind, and soul. Thank Him for His love in this dark world. Ask Him to shed light on your path. Ask Him to give you wisdom. People, God is so good, and He loves us SO MUCH, unconditionally. Trust Him. Believe Him. Receive His gift of eternal life, turn to Jesus. Get to know Him. Invest in a relationship with Him. Lay down your old ways, kiss your past goodbye. Read His Word. Spend time in prayer. Thank Him for His blood that was shed, it's what gives you and me the right to be called children of God. Not works or deeds or good intentions. Oh, and one more thing...keep it real. We are scruffy imperfect humans, all of us. I think that's all. For now. ♥
oh, you know... just stuff
July 18, 2007 - Wednesday
I was going to be an artist.
A famous one. I had it all figured out. How could I not be? I was born drawing and creating. Always holed up in my bedroom, hard at work on my next diobolical contribution to the art world. It usually involved glue and glitter and smell markers, until the age of 10. In my teens, it was paint. And clay. I even had my very own potter's wheel and a nice little kiln one time. But I had to get rid of it, because I was using them 'round the clock, ignoring both my husband and my daughter. I have no set pace. I only know how to run. Can somebody help me with this, please?
Anyway, I'm saying that art has always been my thing. I never really considered doing anything else.
So this is why, in my early 30's, I was beyond baffled when I sensed in my spirit that it was time to lay it all down. All of it.
Wha...? But I know His voice and I know when He means business.
And at this very point in time? Why would He require this of me now? I finally had my paintings in galleries, and even, yes, finally.....had two galleries contact ME, for cryin' out loud!!! That's a real landmark moment for an artist. So here I was, going strong with my paintings, and it consumed me. I mean, it's ALL I thought about. I was living at my dad's at the time, and my bedroom had it's own bathroom, and a sliding glass door that opened up to the patio. I was in my own little world, I had everything I needed at my fingertips. The bathroom became a paintbrush-rinsing station, and the patio became a canvas-drying area. Of course my dad would beg to differ on this, but we go way back on this argument. He still doesn't get it. One CANNOT paint in the garage. Or, I WILL NOT. What, am I a dog who's not yet housebroken, being banished to the garage? Surrounded by all his junk??
How on earth did I stray so far from my point. It's funny when I write, you know what I have to do? Every few minutes or so I go blank, so I have to scroll to the top and read what I've been saying, just to bring me back. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to do that now....
I do believe my intentions for this blog was to talk about sacrifice, and obedience to God.
I had been convicted in my spirit of something a few months earlier. I had been making these bookmarks and trying to sell them. Each one had a beautiful cross on one side (cut from my very own hand-marbelized paper...nice and colorful and swirly...) and a scripture verse on the other side. They were then laminated. I was trying to sell them, because about a decade earlier I did the same thing, and had orders from all over the place. Except at that time, they were free.
I'd place little ads in Christian magazines and such, saying, "FREE! Beautiful and unique hand-made bookmarks. Send name and Bible verse of your choice to....."
This little venture took off like wildfire. I had lots and lots of orders from prison inmates. That's how I ended up in a little bit of prison ministry, accidentally. They just started writing to me, and I couldn't resist writing back (the women only)...I made lots of special friends during that time. Tommy was not amused. I think he only knew about one inmate. Oh and I asked him to drive me down to see her one time. Her name was Raquel. We had been corresponding for about a year. It's not like it was a far drive or anything, just a few hours. He was not happy about it but he loves to drive. So anyway, we finally find the prison, and go in, and.....next thing you know, we're being searched and scanned and questioned. As it turns out, you can't just show up at a prison for a visit. You have to call in advance. They have "visiting days."
To describe how Tommy was on the drive home (it was in Gatesville) is really not necessary. He was pretty mad. But again, he likes to drive, so I tried to cheer him up by putting in one of his stupid country tapes...the one with that idiotic song, "Amanda...they should 'uve made yoo, a gentlemun's wafe..." Soon enough he forgot how mad he was and started singing along.
What on earth am I talking about now??? The bookmarks! Wait, I have one more thing to say about inmates. I have a big heart for them. I want to be involved in prison ministry one day. The real kind. Not just my own made-up version of it.
So these bookmarks were a hit (I didn't realize at the time it was most likely due to the fact that they were free)...but eventually I got tired of doing it and moved on to something else. This was in the early 90's.
So back to my early 30's, when the idea hit me again. But this time, I'll be smart about it and charge a little for them. I think it was $2.50 each, or something like that. I placed very expensive ads in various magazines and independent newspapers and waited for the orders to come piling in, like they did before.
And I waited.
And waited.
About a month passed, and not ONE ORDER came in. I was baffled, thinking, these look even better than they did the first time around, and I've placed even better ads...what on earth?
So I prayed about it. And then I sensed in my spirit that:
(and I quote my Maker)...
"There are those who are peddlers of my Word. You are not to be found among them."
Yup. I was floored. Bonked on the head with truth. Convicted like a thief. Corrected like a bad kid. And I just started bawling, because I knew it was true. I was peddling His Word. Trying to make a buck off of His scriptures. (each bookmark came with whatever verse you requested, on the back.)
My heart was not in the right place, this time around. The first time, all I wanted was to share my talent and bless others with it. This time around, I wanted a personal profit.
There is a very, very fine line when it comes to serving God with your talent. You have to be so careful about your motives. Because trust me, He sees your heart, and he KNOWS.
So, long story long, I ditched the whole bookmark venture and turned back to painting. At least with the painting I was honest about it, I wasn't serving God with my splatter paint. It was just for me.
But that had to go as well.
Becuase at this point in time, when I was going strong with painting, I began to feel the call rise up inside me, that God had something else for me. That it was time to lay down the paints and realize that "art" is not the only way to express oneself. I argued with God in prayer, telling Him, "But art is my thing!! I've been doing it forever!!"
It then began to dawn on me that "art" was simply the only way I knew how to express myself. That it's not about painting or ceramics or whatever medium you use. It's about the expression and what you're trying to convey.
I was born with an incredible amount of nervous energy. My mom says at just one day old, I was pushing myself up, on my belly, in the hospital nursery. Like a push-up. Completely lifted myself up off the little mattress. The nurses told my mom they had never seen a baby do that. It's not physical strenth, it's a burning energy I carry around inside of me. It burns. It always has.
And finally I learned, that if I turn that fire over to God, really cool things happen: Other people catch fire.
So, after getting rid of all my canvases and paints and the bookmarks and all selfish goals and plans, I was like, "Ok God, what are you doing??" It's like He needed me to clear the slate and make room for something new.
I waited. Then things started happening. For one thing, my daughter came back to live with me. I was able to put all of my energy into her and helping her with some struggles she was having.
Secondly, I began to feel my fire swell, and the desire to write.
To write my story. My testimony.
I'll never forget the night I finally wrote the first draft.
It was October 10, 2003. A friday night. My birthday.
I had been seeing this guy who....oh I better not go there. I'll just call him White Mustang.
He knew my birthday was that week, and he told me, "Yeah, I'll take you out for your birthday, but it probably won't be ON your birthday...." Ok. How hard would that have been? It fell on a friday night! But, I'm not one to expect that anyway...I don't really get into cards and gifts and superficial offerings, it's all fake. But the point is, he made a POINT to not do anything that day. That's just how he was. I think he was still really angry at his ex. She must have been really demanding or something. But, here I am, on a friday night, on my 33rd birthday.
I sat there facing the computer. I stared. I thought about everything. And I knew it was time to do it: I had to start writing.
I sat there for hours like a crazed lunatic, my fingers flying all over the keyboard, memories and experiences just pouring out of me. I did it. I wrote my story.
That first copy was a little rough, sort of blurry and rambling, and over the years I've edited it and refined it. But I tell you what. It was pure heaven to hand White Mustang a finished copy. And then tell him to kiss my ass.
So this is how I started writing.
And I suspect I shall continue, until the fire burns out....
I just remembered something. Several years ago, I was at a birthday party for my co-worker's 16 year old daughter. These folks were totally sold out to Christ. This was a teenage party like you've never seen, it was held in a small church, and they were blasting alternative praise music, and the kids were totally jamming to it, praising God, hands lifted in the air....I had never seen teens do such a thing. I was amazed.
I sat at the back and just watched. Then this song came on that I had never heard before. The name of it was "Here I am to Worship" by Praise Band. Something about that song caused me to rise to my feet and join in the praise. It moved me to tears. I found myself so lost in this experience, music blaring and tears streaming down my face....and I began praying quietly to myself....
And then I felt a hand on me.
I opened my eyes and looked. It was a woman, just some woman who came over to me. She had one hand on my shoulder and the other hand lifted in the air. I watched as she started praying in the Spirit and then she was crying. I was thinking, "have I made this lady cry??" But no. She was praying for me, and then, she opened her eyes and had this look on her face....I can't describe it....
And she says to me:
"From this day forward, your life will never be the same. IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. God will cause your words to burn like smoke."
I was stunned, to say the very least.
Just sayin'.
Just sayin', where there's smoke, there's fire....
I think I'm just going to cease all real-life communication completely, and just write for the rest of my life. I have noticed that my talking is a little slowed down anyway. As in, a real conversation, things just don't go as fast in my head, and I go blank way too easy. And it's hard to keep up with other people's thoughts if they go too fast. And for me to come up with a good response can take a while. Conversation used to be so much fun. Now it makes me look very, very dull. But hopefully that will get better over time. Or not. Who cares, anyway? Do I really care anymore?
One thing I do care about is my little occasional limp. I've noticed it comes on when I'm really, really tired, or really stressed. So it has to do with my nervous system. I don't need an EMG to tell me that. I'm glad I got out of that. I knew I'd find a way.
I've been wide awake all night, thinking. I've been wondering why I have so many God stories to tell. I never meant to have all this to talk about. I'm looking at my life and wondering, what on earth?
Only God knows why He picks out certain folks for certain things. But I'm getting suspicious. I'm remembering lots of crazy things I've done for Him. I'm thinking, does He use me in crazy ways because I'm open to crazy things?
When I got saved at 17, that's when all these ideas started coming into my head. Creative ways to spread the Word. I had to do it, I was so amazed at the whole salvation thing. It was all new to me, and I just had to make sure the rest of the world knew about Jesus. I took it upon myself to spread the Word in my own way. Most of these things I did secretly. Never told a soul. Except my little brother, who was an Accomplice.
The first things we'd do were make little tracts, or just go buy a few packs at the Christian bookstore. And we'd wait till late at night. And go for a drive, all over town. I'd drive, and he'd litter. It was so much fun. I was 17, he was 7. This is how it all started, and it came to be known as "littering." Sometimes I'd go to the bookstore and get a few good books, or even Bibles, and go to my bro and say, "Psst--wanna go littering??" His face would light up like a firefly. We had so much fun.
And this idea was actually his: we tied a bunch of tracts to helium balloons, and just set them free. This was his favorite way to litter.
This activity sort of morphed into other things....like driving through a really poor neighborhood, praying, picking out a house, and running up to the door, giving a one hundred dollar bill to whoever opened the door, saying "Merry Christmas and God Bless You!!" ...and running back to the car and driving off before they could say anything. I can't describe the surge of adrenaline you get when you do things like that. It's almost too much.
When I finally wrote my testimony several years ago, I wasn't satisfied just passing it around to my friends. I made sure one got sent to Australia. To an old friend. He was a mess at the time and really needed some good old-fashioned inspiration. And then I also sent a copy to this minister in Africa, who wrote back and said they read it aloud at one of their services, and many people were touched.
It's always best to do these types of things anonymously. Never knowing the outcome, never putting my name to anything. Because then I might be tempted to want to know the results. I'd rather not know. I'd rather view everything through eyes of faith, and not base anything on what my real eyes see. Plus, I never have to answer to anyone or explain myself that way.
I think we should all be more free with God. Loosen up and do something unexpected. Be creative. Actually instead of doing something crazy, do something free. Be free with it. Think freedom. Be an open vessel that God can use. I refuse to share Christ in a normal manner. There's enough folks on God's green earth who do things right. I just let them do things their way, and I do things my way, and that's that.
At first, I thought the west nile was going to make me crazy.
Now I realize, if it weren't for the west nile, I would have gone crazy for sure.
It saved my life. My internal life. It tripped me up and made me fall. It forced me into seclusion. It broke open my mind and slowly began to flush out everything stored up in there.
If I would have been allowed to continue on the self-determined and self-sufficient path I was on, I would have burned myself out, for the very last time.
But anyway, on a lighter note~
I am realizing that I have created a Diabolical Matrix. An online snake. The Amy Snake. Hey! That reminds me. My old manager used to call me "Blake the Snake." And when he'd call up at the store, he'd say, "Yes, Blake the Snake, please." And I'd say, "sssssssspeaking......"
But back to my Crafty Web of Interlocking Profiles Created For Your Ultimate Viewing Pleasure. I think I'm on 5 now. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you just simply don't deserve to know.
It's the middle of the night again. My mind is all over the place...
I just keep thinking of those Christian bikers. I looked up their website today and noticed how they name their local chapters. Cool names. Like band names or something. Stuff like, "Sons of Thunder". I want a Son of Thunder!!!!!
Also today, I remembered a dream I had a long, long time ago. It was in my early twenties, back when I was living in my little "nothing's wrong, nothing has ever been wrong" world. In total denial about everything. I got like that after a traumatic event that broke my mind in half. Really. Well, figuratively speaking, of course. But I was just going along, in happy-perfect-stay-at-home-mom-land, totally forgetting my old life, having nothing to do with who I used to be.
One of the things I kicked to the curb was my music. All of it.
So about this dream. I saw my old room. And there was a poster on the wall. It was nice and pretty. I think it was something like a vase full of flowers or something like that. And then, the dream sort of zoomed-in on this poster....closer and closer it got.....until it focused on one tiny corner, that was just barely peeled back. I looked, and saw that there was another poster underneath! And then- the flower poster was totally peeled back, and guess what was under there?? An AC/DC poster!!! The "Let There Be Rock" tour poster. I was shocked! Totally freaked out!!!
I woke up and knew this dream was really trying to tell me something. That I was covering up my old identity. With lots and lots of false layers.
You see, I never outgrew certain things like normal people. I didn't give myself the chance. I just decided one day at the age of 18 that I wasn't going to have anything to do with my old life. Everything had to go, all my music, crazy clothing, wild hair and jewelry....everything.
But the poster in the dream told me that you cannot push truth away. Maybe you can push it down for a while, but you cannot deny your own reality. The truth about who you really are. No I am not a metalhead anymore (never really was anyway, just liked hanging out with them)...but I'm sure not the prim and proper floral arrangement in the poster on top.
Whatever it is that you have endured or experienced, it is not going to go away. It's still there. You cannot live in denial about things regarding your past, no matter how painful they may be.
You have to deal with it, all of it. Some people don't know what that means. Well, to properly deal with something, all you do is face it, and then ask God to bring it all up to the surface, all of it...old memories, old feelings, all that messy stuff...you have to ask Him to be in charge of it. It's like a delicate surgery. Don't attempt it on yourself.
And He will. He'll bring things up to the conscious level, one at a time, and you can face it and cry if you need to, and ask Him to cleanse the wound. This part can be uncomfortable. But do it anyway.
And then when it's all cleansed and sterilized with HIS BLOOD.......you can experience healing and freedom and then laugh about all of it and be freaking AMAZED at the beauty of it all....
It goes on and on and on......life is so good.....God is so good!
Wait...don't think I'm sitting around these days listening to AC/DC again.
I was going to be an artist.
A famous one. I had it all figured out. How could I not be? I was born drawing and creating. Always holed up in my bedroom, hard at work on my next diobolical contribution to the art world. It usually involved glue and glitter and smell markers, until the age of 10. In my teens, it was paint. And clay. I even had my very own potter's wheel and a nice little kiln one time. But I had to get rid of it, because I was using them 'round the clock, ignoring both my husband and my daughter. I have no set pace. I only know how to run. Can somebody help me with this, please?
Anyway, I'm saying that art has always been my thing. I never really considered doing anything else.
So this is why, in my early 30's, I was beyond baffled when I sensed in my spirit that it was time to lay it all down. All of it.
Wha...? But I know His voice and I know when He means business.
And at this very point in time? Why would He require this of me now? I finally had my paintings in galleries, and even, yes, finally.....had two galleries contact ME, for cryin' out loud!!! That's a real landmark moment for an artist. So here I was, going strong with my paintings, and it consumed me. I mean, it's ALL I thought about. I was living at my dad's at the time, and my bedroom had it's own bathroom, and a sliding glass door that opened up to the patio. I was in my own little world, I had everything I needed at my fingertips. The bathroom became a paintbrush-rinsing station, and the patio became a canvas-drying area. Of course my dad would beg to differ on this, but we go way back on this argument. He still doesn't get it. One CANNOT paint in the garage. Or, I WILL NOT. What, am I a dog who's not yet housebroken, being banished to the garage? Surrounded by all his junk??
How on earth did I stray so far from my point. It's funny when I write, you know what I have to do? Every few minutes or so I go blank, so I have to scroll to the top and read what I've been saying, just to bring me back. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to do that now....
I do believe my intentions for this blog was to talk about sacrifice, and obedience to God.
I had been convicted in my spirit of something a few months earlier. I had been making these bookmarks and trying to sell them. Each one had a beautiful cross on one side (cut from my very own hand-marbelized paper...nice and colorful and swirly...) and a scripture verse on the other side. They were then laminated. I was trying to sell them, because about a decade earlier I did the same thing, and had orders from all over the place. Except at that time, they were free.
I'd place little ads in Christian magazines and such, saying, "FREE! Beautiful and unique hand-made bookmarks. Send name and Bible verse of your choice to....."
This little venture took off like wildfire. I had lots and lots of orders from prison inmates. That's how I ended up in a little bit of prison ministry, accidentally. They just started writing to me, and I couldn't resist writing back (the women only)...I made lots of special friends during that time. Tommy was not amused. I think he only knew about one inmate. Oh and I asked him to drive me down to see her one time. Her name was Raquel. We had been corresponding for about a year. It's not like it was a far drive or anything, just a few hours. He was not happy about it but he loves to drive. So anyway, we finally find the prison, and go in, and.....next thing you know, we're being searched and scanned and questioned. As it turns out, you can't just show up at a prison for a visit. You have to call in advance. They have "visiting days."
To describe how Tommy was on the drive home (it was in Gatesville) is really not necessary. He was pretty mad. But again, he likes to drive, so I tried to cheer him up by putting in one of his stupid country tapes...the one with that idiotic song, "Amanda...they should 'uve made yoo, a gentlemun's wafe..." Soon enough he forgot how mad he was and started singing along.
What on earth am I talking about now??? The bookmarks! Wait, I have one more thing to say about inmates. I have a big heart for them. I want to be involved in prison ministry one day. The real kind. Not just my own made-up version of it.
So these bookmarks were a hit (I didn't realize at the time it was most likely due to the fact that they were free)...but eventually I got tired of doing it and moved on to something else. This was in the early 90's.
So back to my early 30's, when the idea hit me again. But this time, I'll be smart about it and charge a little for them. I think it was $2.50 each, or something like that. I placed very expensive ads in various magazines and independent newspapers and waited for the orders to come piling in, like they did before.
And I waited.
And waited.
About a month passed, and not ONE ORDER came in. I was baffled, thinking, these look even better than they did the first time around, and I've placed even better ads...what on earth?
So I prayed about it. And then I sensed in my spirit that:
(and I quote my Maker)...
"There are those who are peddlers of my Word. You are not to be found among them."
Yup. I was floored. Bonked on the head with truth. Convicted like a thief. Corrected like a bad kid. And I just started bawling, because I knew it was true. I was peddling His Word. Trying to make a buck off of His scriptures. (each bookmark came with whatever verse you requested, on the back.)
My heart was not in the right place, this time around. The first time, all I wanted was to share my talent and bless others with it. This time around, I wanted a personal profit.
There is a very, very fine line when it comes to serving God with your talent. You have to be so careful about your motives. Because trust me, He sees your heart, and he KNOWS.
So, long story long, I ditched the whole bookmark venture and turned back to painting. At least with the painting I was honest about it, I wasn't serving God with my splatter paint. It was just for me.
But that had to go as well.
Becuase at this point in time, when I was going strong with painting, I began to feel the call rise up inside me, that God had something else for me. That it was time to lay down the paints and realize that "art" is not the only way to express oneself. I argued with God in prayer, telling Him, "But art is my thing!! I've been doing it forever!!"
It then began to dawn on me that "art" was simply the only way I knew how to express myself. That it's not about painting or ceramics or whatever medium you use. It's about the expression and what you're trying to convey.
I was born with an incredible amount of nervous energy. My mom says at just one day old, I was pushing myself up, on my belly, in the hospital nursery. Like a push-up. Completely lifted myself up off the little mattress. The nurses told my mom they had never seen a baby do that. It's not physical strenth, it's a burning energy I carry around inside of me. It burns. It always has.
And finally I learned, that if I turn that fire over to God, really cool things happen: Other people catch fire.
So, after getting rid of all my canvases and paints and the bookmarks and all selfish goals and plans, I was like, "Ok God, what are you doing??" It's like He needed me to clear the slate and make room for something new.
I waited. Then things started happening. For one thing, my daughter came back to live with me. I was able to put all of my energy into her and helping her with some struggles she was having.
Secondly, I began to feel my fire swell, and the desire to write.
To write my story. My testimony.
I'll never forget the night I finally wrote the first draft.
It was October 10, 2003. A friday night. My birthday.
I had been seeing this guy who....oh I better not go there. I'll just call him White Mustang.
He knew my birthday was that week, and he told me, "Yeah, I'll take you out for your birthday, but it probably won't be ON your birthday...." Ok. How hard would that have been? It fell on a friday night! But, I'm not one to expect that anyway...I don't really get into cards and gifts and superficial offerings, it's all fake. But the point is, he made a POINT to not do anything that day. That's just how he was. I think he was still really angry at his ex. She must have been really demanding or something. But, here I am, on a friday night, on my 33rd birthday.
I sat there facing the computer. I stared. I thought about everything. And I knew it was time to do it: I had to start writing.
I sat there for hours like a crazed lunatic, my fingers flying all over the keyboard, memories and experiences just pouring out of me. I did it. I wrote my story.
That first copy was a little rough, sort of blurry and rambling, and over the years I've edited it and refined it. But I tell you what. It was pure heaven to hand White Mustang a finished copy. And then tell him to kiss my ass.
So this is how I started writing.
And I suspect I shall continue, until the fire burns out....
I just remembered something. Several years ago, I was at a birthday party for my co-worker's 16 year old daughter. These folks were totally sold out to Christ. This was a teenage party like you've never seen, it was held in a small church, and they were blasting alternative praise music, and the kids were totally jamming to it, praising God, hands lifted in the air....I had never seen teens do such a thing. I was amazed.
I sat at the back and just watched. Then this song came on that I had never heard before. The name of it was "Here I am to Worship" by Praise Band. Something about that song caused me to rise to my feet and join in the praise. It moved me to tears. I found myself so lost in this experience, music blaring and tears streaming down my face....and I began praying quietly to myself....
And then I felt a hand on me.
I opened my eyes and looked. It was a woman, just some woman who came over to me. She had one hand on my shoulder and the other hand lifted in the air. I watched as she started praying in the Spirit and then she was crying. I was thinking, "have I made this lady cry??" But no. She was praying for me, and then, she opened her eyes and had this look on her face....I can't describe it....
And she says to me:
"From this day forward, your life will never be the same. IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. God will cause your words to burn like smoke."
I was stunned, to say the very least.
Just sayin'.
Just sayin', where there's smoke, there's fire....
I think I'm just going to cease all real-life communication completely, and just write for the rest of my life. I have noticed that my talking is a little slowed down anyway. As in, a real conversation, things just don't go as fast in my head, and I go blank way too easy. And it's hard to keep up with other people's thoughts if they go too fast. And for me to come up with a good response can take a while. Conversation used to be so much fun. Now it makes me look very, very dull. But hopefully that will get better over time. Or not. Who cares, anyway? Do I really care anymore?
One thing I do care about is my little occasional limp. I've noticed it comes on when I'm really, really tired, or really stressed. So it has to do with my nervous system. I don't need an EMG to tell me that. I'm glad I got out of that. I knew I'd find a way.
I've been wide awake all night, thinking. I've been wondering why I have so many God stories to tell. I never meant to have all this to talk about. I'm looking at my life and wondering, what on earth?
Only God knows why He picks out certain folks for certain things. But I'm getting suspicious. I'm remembering lots of crazy things I've done for Him. I'm thinking, does He use me in crazy ways because I'm open to crazy things?
When I got saved at 17, that's when all these ideas started coming into my head. Creative ways to spread the Word. I had to do it, I was so amazed at the whole salvation thing. It was all new to me, and I just had to make sure the rest of the world knew about Jesus. I took it upon myself to spread the Word in my own way. Most of these things I did secretly. Never told a soul. Except my little brother, who was an Accomplice.
The first things we'd do were make little tracts, or just go buy a few packs at the Christian bookstore. And we'd wait till late at night. And go for a drive, all over town. I'd drive, and he'd litter. It was so much fun. I was 17, he was 7. This is how it all started, and it came to be known as "littering." Sometimes I'd go to the bookstore and get a few good books, or even Bibles, and go to my bro and say, "Psst--wanna go littering??" His face would light up like a firefly. We had so much fun.
And this idea was actually his: we tied a bunch of tracts to helium balloons, and just set them free. This was his favorite way to litter.
This activity sort of morphed into other things....like driving through a really poor neighborhood, praying, picking out a house, and running up to the door, giving a one hundred dollar bill to whoever opened the door, saying "Merry Christmas and God Bless You!!" ...and running back to the car and driving off before they could say anything. I can't describe the surge of adrenaline you get when you do things like that. It's almost too much.
When I finally wrote my testimony several years ago, I wasn't satisfied just passing it around to my friends. I made sure one got sent to Australia. To an old friend. He was a mess at the time and really needed some good old-fashioned inspiration. And then I also sent a copy to this minister in Africa, who wrote back and said they read it aloud at one of their services, and many people were touched.
It's always best to do these types of things anonymously. Never knowing the outcome, never putting my name to anything. Because then I might be tempted to want to know the results. I'd rather not know. I'd rather view everything through eyes of faith, and not base anything on what my real eyes see. Plus, I never have to answer to anyone or explain myself that way.
I think we should all be more free with God. Loosen up and do something unexpected. Be creative. Actually instead of doing something crazy, do something free. Be free with it. Think freedom. Be an open vessel that God can use. I refuse to share Christ in a normal manner. There's enough folks on God's green earth who do things right. I just let them do things their way, and I do things my way, and that's that.
At first, I thought the west nile was going to make me crazy.
Now I realize, if it weren't for the west nile, I would have gone crazy for sure.
It saved my life. My internal life. It tripped me up and made me fall. It forced me into seclusion. It broke open my mind and slowly began to flush out everything stored up in there.
If I would have been allowed to continue on the self-determined and self-sufficient path I was on, I would have burned myself out, for the very last time.
But anyway, on a lighter note~
I am realizing that I have created a Diabolical Matrix. An online snake. The Amy Snake. Hey! That reminds me. My old manager used to call me "Blake the Snake." And when he'd call up at the store, he'd say, "Yes, Blake the Snake, please." And I'd say, "sssssssspeaking......"
But back to my Crafty Web of Interlocking Profiles Created For Your Ultimate Viewing Pleasure. I think I'm on 5 now. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you just simply don't deserve to know.
It's the middle of the night again. My mind is all over the place...
I just keep thinking of those Christian bikers. I looked up their website today and noticed how they name their local chapters. Cool names. Like band names or something. Stuff like, "Sons of Thunder". I want a Son of Thunder!!!!!
Also today, I remembered a dream I had a long, long time ago. It was in my early twenties, back when I was living in my little "nothing's wrong, nothing has ever been wrong" world. In total denial about everything. I got like that after a traumatic event that broke my mind in half. Really. Well, figuratively speaking, of course. But I was just going along, in happy-perfect-stay-at-home-mom-land, totally forgetting my old life, having nothing to do with who I used to be.
One of the things I kicked to the curb was my music. All of it.
So about this dream. I saw my old room. And there was a poster on the wall. It was nice and pretty. I think it was something like a vase full of flowers or something like that. And then, the dream sort of zoomed-in on this poster....closer and closer it got.....until it focused on one tiny corner, that was just barely peeled back. I looked, and saw that there was another poster underneath! And then- the flower poster was totally peeled back, and guess what was under there?? An AC/DC poster!!! The "Let There Be Rock" tour poster. I was shocked! Totally freaked out!!!
I woke up and knew this dream was really trying to tell me something. That I was covering up my old identity. With lots and lots of false layers.
You see, I never outgrew certain things like normal people. I didn't give myself the chance. I just decided one day at the age of 18 that I wasn't going to have anything to do with my old life. Everything had to go, all my music, crazy clothing, wild hair and jewelry....everything.
But the poster in the dream told me that you cannot push truth away. Maybe you can push it down for a while, but you cannot deny your own reality. The truth about who you really are. No I am not a metalhead anymore (never really was anyway, just liked hanging out with them)...but I'm sure not the prim and proper floral arrangement in the poster on top.
Whatever it is that you have endured or experienced, it is not going to go away. It's still there. You cannot live in denial about things regarding your past, no matter how painful they may be.
You have to deal with it, all of it. Some people don't know what that means. Well, to properly deal with something, all you do is face it, and then ask God to bring it all up to the surface, all of it...old memories, old feelings, all that messy stuff...you have to ask Him to be in charge of it. It's like a delicate surgery. Don't attempt it on yourself.
And He will. He'll bring things up to the conscious level, one at a time, and you can face it and cry if you need to, and ask Him to cleanse the wound. This part can be uncomfortable. But do it anyway.
And then when it's all cleansed and sterilized with HIS BLOOD.......you can experience healing and freedom and then laugh about all of it and be freaking AMAZED at the beauty of it all....
It goes on and on and on......life is so good.....God is so good!
Wait...don't think I'm sitting around these days listening to AC/DC again.
an overview of my existence
Normal "Christians" don't get me.
People who don't believe don't get me.
I would say I'm stuck in the middle, but that makes me think of a dazed squirrel in the middle of the road about to get smushed because it can't decide which way to run.
So the verdict is in: I'm Nowhere.
And everywhere. My mind is all over the place.
I love God, but not religion. I have compassion for other people, but it would take pulling all of my teeth, slowly and painfully, to get me to go to church and hang out with other believers. My life is squeaky-clean, but only because I have been plucked off of my path, corrected, taught, chastised, instructed, protected, guided, encouraged, blessed, and washed in His blood.
My life has been messy, and although no evidence remains (unless I tell you, which I will and do, compulsively), it has left a mark on my mind.
Some say I suffer from low self-esteem. I say I have been humbled and I think it's better to slink along the bottom than pretend to be something I'm not.
Someone once said that I have "intimacy issues". No, the truth is, WHY would I want to let you get close to me? What's in it for me? More pain? Where do I sign? And, what if I'm looking out for your best interest by denying access to the inner realm of my head?
I'm more conflicted than a checker board, more divided than a cookie on a playground. Oh and I'm filled to the brim with bad analogies. My sister used to make fun of them, so over the years it's grown into a thing. Now I find myself making them up just to see how bad they can really be.
More about me, just so you know:
I was raised Catholic, but that's just because my parents had us in private school 'cause we lived in Oak Cliff. I became a Christian at the age of 17, my mom witnessed to me. Seems a friend of hers told her all about Christ one day, and she became a believer. Until this point I never knew anything about God.
I became pregnant at 20, married at 21, divorced at 27, and have been struggling ever since. I am an artist, although a non-practicing one. Too much in my head that cannot be expressed through paint. I'm telling you, blogging is better than the best of therapists. I started several months ago and have not shut up since.
I have so much to say.
People who don't believe don't get me.
I would say I'm stuck in the middle, but that makes me think of a dazed squirrel in the middle of the road about to get smushed because it can't decide which way to run.
So the verdict is in: I'm Nowhere.
And everywhere. My mind is all over the place.
I love God, but not religion. I have compassion for other people, but it would take pulling all of my teeth, slowly and painfully, to get me to go to church and hang out with other believers. My life is squeaky-clean, but only because I have been plucked off of my path, corrected, taught, chastised, instructed, protected, guided, encouraged, blessed, and washed in His blood.
My life has been messy, and although no evidence remains (unless I tell you, which I will and do, compulsively), it has left a mark on my mind.
Some say I suffer from low self-esteem. I say I have been humbled and I think it's better to slink along the bottom than pretend to be something I'm not.
Someone once said that I have "intimacy issues". No, the truth is, WHY would I want to let you get close to me? What's in it for me? More pain? Where do I sign? And, what if I'm looking out for your best interest by denying access to the inner realm of my head?
I'm more conflicted than a checker board, more divided than a cookie on a playground. Oh and I'm filled to the brim with bad analogies. My sister used to make fun of them, so over the years it's grown into a thing. Now I find myself making them up just to see how bad they can really be.
More about me, just so you know:
I was raised Catholic, but that's just because my parents had us in private school 'cause we lived in Oak Cliff. I became a Christian at the age of 17, my mom witnessed to me. Seems a friend of hers told her all about Christ one day, and she became a believer. Until this point I never knew anything about God.
I became pregnant at 20, married at 21, divorced at 27, and have been struggling ever since. I am an artist, although a non-practicing one. Too much in my head that cannot be expressed through paint. I'm telling you, blogging is better than the best of therapists. I started several months ago and have not shut up since.
I have so much to say.
my trouble with men
I cannot communicate with them anymore. At all.
I think I have developed a phobia. I experience borderline panic attacks when faced with the reality of an impending email or phone call.
I have changed my phone number and email so many times it's frightening.
And yet, I sit and complain. I complain that I am 37 years old and have yet to find my Prince.
See, this is why I avoid talking to them. Because I KNOW. I know, at first meeting, who will only end up on my black list of bad dates/memories/learning experiences. I know who will freak out on me when they discover what lies beneath my harmless exterior. I know who will like me TOO much, and attempt to suck the life force right out of me. I know who will reject my opinions and beliefs.
It's my ongoing dilemma. My eternal frustration.
I sense too much. My antenna is always up, preventing me from any real connection.
I have grown hostile and mean. And I am not happy about it. But I cannot change it, it's a defense that has grown and formed out of necessity.
What's worse: my fear of the ones who are just right. They make my heart beat faster (in a bad way) than the ones who are wrong. Because, I know what it would mean if something were to pan out. It would mean...... a......relationship. (shuddering)
Yes, I have issues. And don't say I have too much fear that I need to get over, trust me, it will not go away. Nothing will change until I just do it. I can sit and worry all day long, but I will
not move past this anxiety until I'm working through it in a real-life situation.
I fear the good ones, I fear the bad ones. I fear the normal ones. I fear the wild ones, due to the chaos they bring. I fear the stable ones, because this might mean love.
Wait. I think that's it.
Love.
That's the scariest word of all.
I think I have developed a phobia. I experience borderline panic attacks when faced with the reality of an impending email or phone call.
I have changed my phone number and email so many times it's frightening.
And yet, I sit and complain. I complain that I am 37 years old and have yet to find my Prince.
See, this is why I avoid talking to them. Because I KNOW. I know, at first meeting, who will only end up on my black list of bad dates/memories/learning experiences. I know who will freak out on me when they discover what lies beneath my harmless exterior. I know who will like me TOO much, and attempt to suck the life force right out of me. I know who will reject my opinions and beliefs.
It's my ongoing dilemma. My eternal frustration.
I sense too much. My antenna is always up, preventing me from any real connection.
I have grown hostile and mean. And I am not happy about it. But I cannot change it, it's a defense that has grown and formed out of necessity.
What's worse: my fear of the ones who are just right. They make my heart beat faster (in a bad way) than the ones who are wrong. Because, I know what it would mean if something were to pan out. It would mean...... a......relationship. (shuddering)
Yes, I have issues. And don't say I have too much fear that I need to get over, trust me, it will not go away. Nothing will change until I just do it. I can sit and worry all day long, but I will
not move past this anxiety until I'm working through it in a real-life situation.
I fear the good ones, I fear the bad ones. I fear the normal ones. I fear the wild ones, due to the chaos they bring. I fear the stable ones, because this might mean love.
Wait. I think that's it.
Love.
That's the scariest word of all.
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