poooo

I'm finally working on rollalong hill... Damn my grammar sucks.   But I suppose a lot of writers do stream of thought stuff, and then have to edit it a lot... otherwise why does it take years to finish a book? 
On the homefront, my paperwork finally came through and I have sole custody of my son. He starts school soon, and I know he'll grow mentally in leaps and bounds with the right stimulation.   Perhaps that's why teachers actually go to college to learn how to teach, I'm glad my kid's got a teacher with a masters.  Good luck! 
Na, my kids easy, as soon as he figure's out communication I better start saving up for Harvard... and if not Harvard, well any college because he is not getting stuck in a factory working himself to the bone for nothing. 

Anyhoo.... let me see if I can get this part 2 of rollalong edited.

famous blogs?

 I get it. I do.  Wait in the Van, is one of my favorite blogs.  how do these people become famous?  I guess I just don't know how to appeal to a mass amount of people.   So goes it for those of us who are odd.  I'm not talking emo, or goth odd which seems popular these days.  (If I would have had freedom as a kid I totally would have been a goth).  Anyhoo, drinking and blogging don't mix.   So to keep things safe, I'm going to throw random things out there and hope too much doesn't stick.

As for SSA, I've thought about sending partial payments in, but who's to say they don't seize my bank account and then I end up one of those forclosure people who lose everything because the government has my account.  A debt I may add that is less then my student loans, but has none of the legal restrictions that keeps it from ruining your life.

As for my short stories,  I never get the time to edit them and I've hashed the flaws over and over, and just can't seem to get time to fix rollalong hill.

As for graceful, I definately am more graceful with a few drinks in me.  I thought it might just be beer brain working, but I honestly put a pair of yoga pants on without almost falling.  That's graceful for me sober, so ya somehow alcohol makes putting pants on easier.  Is that some sort of brain disorder?

Speaking of brain disorders, I've been researching narcolepsy and sleep disorders on the internet, and it looks like I have classic and common signs of a sleep disorder which causes you to hit REM sleep way too fast and too easilly.   I'm wondering if it would be worth it to have it documented so that my tardys at work can be dismissed before I hit the write up limit.

Swear to goodness I wake up to the alarm and want to lay back down to finish out the dream so badly logic doesn't sit in until it's too late and I have to rush out of the house to make it to work. And I really do hit dream state as soon as I lay back down, so hitting snooze does make sense in that wierd half awake state.

Ok,  I'm running out of stuff..... I think I want to lay down and enjoy the nothingness beer brain that is encapsulating me at the moment.   It's nice not to have your brain wired and firing when you want to go to sleep.  

Got my kid a Phineas and Ferb backpack today.   He wanted to carry my purse around the store, and so buying him his backpack for school was an excellent way to divert him from the purse, and get school supplies too!

Being a single mom is hard.... Being a single mom who really is responsible for everything is harder.  Don't cry to me if you have an estranged spouse that takes your kid every other weekend.  Don't cry to me if you have grandparents that can take your kid for some days to visit, and certainly don't cry to me if you have an ex that actually trys to pay child support.  No matter how people will try to say, "oh but the mothers don't spend it on the kids",  they don't understand that every bit of money going into food, electricity, housing, daycare, cloths, medical affairs..... has to come from somewhere.   My kid isn't living like he's poor, cause mama doesn't need a brand new pair of jeans, she can get them from goodwill.  

Anyhoo!  this is why people shouldn't blog when they drink.  Always a bad idea.  Always.  Too bad I don't care at the moment.   WOOHOO!  Time to find out what that giant mushroom house has for rooms.  Me and Richard were in it the other morning when I was late for work, And I just wanted to find out how many rooms it had, and what the walls taste like....  Such is the dream world, and glad to be a part of it.  Here I go!  NIGH-night.   Sad thing is this is probably more interesting then my other blogs, but I really don't drink so it probably won't happen again soon.   Just saying, don't want to get the reader's hopes up.
Goodnight all!!!

bedtime

I don't have much time tonight, just wanted to share a few thoughts.

I was looking in these mail order catalogs today wondering if the people that buy stuff from them ... well if they know how lucky they are that they can pick stuff out of a book that they want and just buy it.

There is a co-worker that puts stars by the things she wants, and I always wonder if she buys the stuff.  Then I wonder what it's like to live with two incomes, and to be able to do stuff like that.   Not that I'm jealous per say, just I wonder if it fills the need?   When I look at catalogs, or even magazines, I think, sure if I ever pay off these debts, I might be able to do something cool like that... redecorate a whole room with indie style wallpaper and clashing bright colors.... Build my wall of drawers.... buy a car.... buy nice new cloths and not just the ones on a walmart sales rack.... but if I could, would it make things better?   Would having those things make me feel richer?  Or maybe just look richer....  I can't deny a debt free life would be awsome because I wouldn't have to worry about bills and could save money so my son wouldn't have to incur things like college loans or credit card debts to sustain himself in college, but since I'm not winning the lotto anytime soon and money has to go toward what it has to go toward.. you know food, shelter, heat, electricity car insurance, monkey treats for the monkey... monkey cloths for the monkey who won't stop growing,  vetrinary bills for my monkey...  I guess making what I have, outshine this materialistic world is the best lesson I could buy my son.

But still.... I just wonder what it feels like to need new pants, and to go to a really nice store and buy the perfect fit.   I wonder what it's like to need your car fixed and take it to a shop to get it fixed... I wonder what it is like to have extra money and not have to feel guilty about spending it on something fun rather then something necessary...I wonder what it's like for people that just fix thier kitchen, or put new floors in, what's it like to walk into a store, pick something you like and just buy it, no guilt, no trepedation, no fear that your doing something bad. I wonder what its like to have more.   Some day.  But for now, I'm good and if I didn't want more, I wouldn't work so hard to pay the debts.  

All well.  Time for bed.  Work work work...  at least I get to say I save the world for a living. 

this too shall pass

So the blues have passed yet again.  A three day weekend really helped push it along.  Sometimes the depression is like a really persistant bill collector.  It threatens to tear you down, destroy you lively hood, and you hang up but it keeps calling back.   Sometimes if you hang up enough on them it doesn't get rid of them. But then it disappears for a while.   Some bills are harder to pay off then others. But it seems this one is satisfied for now.  
Still working, still taking care of my child, still hating love stories. I'm not destined for it.   All I see is chemical connections firing and rewiring what should be simple lust.   People don't stay in love.  They don't live happily ever after, and I'm not going to find the person who's willing to put up with me forever.  >;P
So onward and upward.  Someday I'll accomplish something really cool.  Don't hold your breath.  I am easily distracted.  And just as selfish as every other human on this planet.

sheepishly sheep

bah.


The bad days are getting far and few between.   Some are harder then others for sure.  Days like today I'm asking myself, why did I come back to sanity again?  Besides the stress of trying to be financially responsible, work and all that jazz, the world can now damage me.   I can't remember much about those years, but I know that the world couldn't hurt me without my consent, or at least it seemed like it.  I did the damage and the world couldn't stop me.   It ( the world )  couldn't hurt me more then I hurt myself.  Now all that self destruction haunts me.  Failed relationships, debts, a closet of long sleeve shirts to keep away those who would instantly judge me.
My son definately grounds me, but that isn't his job.  He's not responsible for wether or not I'm a good mom.  More stress.   I know the day will fade away when I wake up for work, and I'll feel better soon.  I was just thinking that there might be others out there that feel the same way, struggle with the same things. Perhaps this is perfectly normal.
I was denied being a placement home for my cousin's baby because of my 'mental health history'.  And she had to throw in 'criminal history'.  A DUI when I was 17-18.   I understand they were trying to good by the little guy, but damn that's a harsh blow.   Couldn't they have denied me based on finances, or lack of space or time?  On paper they made me look like a complete loser.  The world strikes again.

On top of this, parenthood on certain days is extremely harder then I thought it was going to be.  I'm still waiting for the school to call back so my son can be placed in a 'special ed' preschool.  I was really hoping they could give me some answers.   He's an amazing kid, but there are days he is defiant every step of the way.  God bless his strong willed little heart, but I was not expecting so much defiance so early in his life. What am I doing wrong?  How do I fix it?  The world strikes again.

I come home, I try to do right by my son, but I'm exhausted mentally and sometimes physically.  Which isn't too bad, until I have a hard day.   I want to go do something, get away from it for just a little bit, but then the guilt kicks in.   Maybe my son is so defiant because he can sense I'm fustrated.  Maybe I need to just stop being fustrated and tierd for him.  But how?  If I leave to do something, am I damaging him by going to the store by myself?  Or going out for a walk?  Will he think I'm abandoning him if I go away too much? 
So I don't.  I struggle through, because that's what I'm supposed to do.

I just wish there was a way to google it and find the answers I need.   And he's out of bed again.  I got 20 minutes to myself, and now I have to go to sleep so I can go to work and not fall asleep on the forklift.  That's always a bad thing.   Battery is going dead.....  The world strikes again. 
God takes care of his sparrows.  Could I get a lift?     Tomorrow will be better.

stupid love stories.

enough said.
Really, that's all I have to say about it.
It's fake, except if your a beautiful person, meeting beautiful people.
But, like I said.  That's all I want to say on the subject.

lonely--part 1

When the fire department failed to determine the identity of the remains found in the Highbrook neighborhood blaze, Nattalie knew that she was finally free.

Her extreme strength had caused tremendous amounts of trouble for her, and on that night, it actually served a purpose.  She stormed through the brick walls, flames burning her flesh and her lungs,  to reach the young boy that was trapped in his room.   She left him in sight of the firemen before she ran choking back through the alleyway to get through her basement door and into safety.  Nattalie knew she couldn't go running to the emergency room without having to explain the burns. Her immediate hope was that this was one of those exceptional times her body decided to heal beyond the human condition.   Most of the burns damaged the skin into numbness, but as fate liked to congeal all her good things into a mass of bad. The largest patches of melted flesh were wrentching with every twitch, every movement, every breath and sigh. 

Luckily her body only suffered long enough for her to nearly die of hunger and thirst.  She had tiny bits of sleep and no ibuprophen left by the second day.  She flopped between trying desperately to sit in her large recliner without moving, and screaming in frustrated pain.   As soon as she could see in her reflection no sign of serious injury,  Nattalie started to pack all of her essential items.  Silently she disappeared. After seeing the report that a mysterious woman had broken through the wall of a house to save an unidentified male child, she knew that there was no way to salvage her situation safely.

If no one knew about her, and her ability to defy physics and gravity itself, she was not threatened.  Her lonely pathetic life was intact.  Sad, but intact.  
In Michigan, there were plenty of places to rent with her meager savings she had stowed away. In Ohio a neighbor had seen her pick up the back of the car to reach the dropped chap stick.  In New York, a man had tried to mug an old beggar, and she had accidently thrown the scum a little too far.   In North Carolina a tree swept into a small flood plain and had to be held at bay while a boat full of rescue workers struggled to cross to a small presipice.  Each time her identity had remained a mystery, and hopefully her stories would never be linked, and no one would ever really try and find out who she was.  Otherwise her passport would be the next step.

The girl who had died in the fire was remembered silently by her family,  and her new home established in a county 120 miles away.  She rented a home close to a cemetary, and started to look for new work. 

Nattalie found the historic house charming and gigantic.  Although it didn't have much of a yard, about 3 feet of grass to be more accurate, the price was right.  Crime in the area kept anyone but the desparate or the insanely stubborn from staying there too long.   She liked that the windows all came with full thick, dark drapes.  She didn't have to worry about moving around the furniture.  She didn't have to worry about too many people seeing her or trying to become friends.  The less other's knew of her, the easier it was to disappear.

Now she had thought of becoming a vigilante,  most times her strength had done a great amount of good for others, but she knew that with technology the way it was, she would be identified sooner or later and her random acts became nationalized.  She just wanted to be a person and constantly wondered how it was the general population lived.
************************************************************************
   She managed to get a volunteer shift at the Cemetary doing lawn work in the first week.  She had yet to find a job, and with her recent escape from fame on the other side of the state she had hoped a temp agency would not be necessary.  Temp agencies do identity checks, and although she doubted anyone had filed a missing person's on her, it was not a risk she wanted to take until it was completely necessary.   With only 2000 dollars cash left, it would only take 2 months to run through it.
Her typical grocery bill was that of a size four family.  The only side effect she had from the ferocious strength was an appetite to match.  One cupboard was completely devoted to peanut butter.   Another one was full of ground wheat flour.  Her bread machine had saved her life on many occasions, and although the diet could get nauseating, she found that no matter how dull the bread started to taste, it was affordable and nuroushed her needs.
While browsing Craigs list for odd jobs, a knock came from the front door.  She had thought she picked a neighborhood that would ignore her, but fate did like to mess with her idea's of how things work.  Getting up from her cold wood floors, Nattalie walked up to the small windows at the top of the door to look out.  A sprite old woman peered up at her smiling.   Long tendrils of super curly black locks snuck out from around her ears while it looked she attempted to straighten the rest up into a bun.  Silver specked the mass of it and her bright marroon lips showed traces of a long eventful life.
"Hello young lady! I'm Beatrix, but you call me Auntie Bee!"  She had started greeting Nattalie before the door had begun to open.
   "I'm Nattalie."  She had discovered the shorter she could make these little hello's, the faster neighbors would go away.  She began to say, "I really can't take visitors at the moment."  but Auntie Bee poked her head around the corner and walked straight in.
  "I can never understand how these historical houses get so little love."  Bee pointed to the restored Oak banister and rails, "Oh they fixed them... such a shame they rent this out."
Nattalie wanted to feel offended but was finding it hard to resist human contact after running for so long.
   "And don't worry about the mess with all those secrets, Good Ol' Bee has her own and would never tell anyone about you!"
There was a second Nattalie could hear the glass handle on her front door cracking before she cautiously responed.  "I'm sorry I don't understand Ma'am."
   "Oh don't you even try young lady.  You are not the only one who can do 'special' things."  She smiled and set her wrinkled ashy hand on Nattalie's.    Nattalie couldn't help but release it and flop onto the staircase next to her to sit down.
  "You know what I am?"
  Auntie Bee laughed. "You're a human being!"
Nattalie felt dizzy.   Maybe she was dreaming all this.  "oh..."
"You are also like me.  You have a secret that other human beings do not.  I'm thinking your strength is not only in your body, but in that heart you hide from everyone."
  "How?"  Nattalie felt the one sided conversation would end anytime now and she would realize she had never made it out of the fire.  She would wake up out of a coma in some hospital and be told that it's been years and she had been dreaming for the last 15 years of her life.
   "Well, I can connect people to their intentions by looking at them, and usually the story reveals itself when the person has so much hiding inside them that it bursts into me."   Bee looked around the empty house and nodded. " I have some spare furniture in my garage that the old tenant left behind.  You're welcome to come get it tonight if you'd like."   Bee held up her wobbly arms and pointed to her bicep.  "My strength doesn't lay in these old bones, so you'll have to go through the back yards and carry it yourself."

Nattalie just shook her head and began giggling.  "Auntie Bee huh?"   She smiled her first real smile since she had arrived.  "I always assumed I was alone."
  The old woman headed for the door.  "I need to head home for a bit and take a rest Nattalie,  your story has made me very tierd."  Nattalie had yet to speak of anything then being alone.  "I can tell you'll be over to talk soon, so I'll go take a little nap for us."
  Auntie Bee paused long enough in the doorway to point to the small red brick house on the left.   "That's me, so come on over and knock real loud,  but try not to break my door, it's very old. "
Nattalie wanted to ask when but the phone rang from the bare dining room.  Auntie Bee shouted, "See you later!" as she shut the door behind her.


ok, part one looks good, now I need to find part 2 in this mess of entries.