I have a love/hate relationship with TV channels such as Discovery and Animal Planet and History and...well, and all those. The ones that make you think WAY too deeply about life and the unknowns and the future. Honestly. You watch a stupid show about microscopic parasites titled," The Monster Within Me" and you have to hear all about these Flippin' amoebas ( ya know...ONE celled critters) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amoeba_(genus)) and would you believe the "intelligence" these practically non-existent things have?? Able to create things to protect themselves against our white blood cells.And you think how could ONE STINKIN' lil cell do all this?! And that then gets you thinking about the fact that white blood cells "attack" things that shouldn't be in your body. And you wonder, how does something like blood attack anything??? I mean, it's blood, yes? And then my brain spirals down into random thoughts of..."See, I NEVER coulda been a medical student.." or, "I SWEAR you have to have a brain of some sort to...ACT? Function?!" I jsut don't get it. Nor do I claim to. I wish I was half as smart as I used to be in high school and right after. When I knew the Pythagoreum Theorem by heart, and I knew how break down a species/genus/etc. I thought shows like all this were supposed to make me smarter. Somehow, they seem to be making me question any intelligence I thought I did have. Too bad I am addicted to the TRUE reality TV.

Bird's the Word...

Last Monday, we got the newest addition to our family. Vegas is a 35 year old Yellow Naped Amazon. The first few days were the roughest for sure. I still have a couple of the bite marks a week later! Of course, I don't know what else anyone can expect from an incredibly intelligent bird that had had at least 3 new homes in 35 years, and the last 2 in 5. His original(?) owner passed away, and he ended up with a really awesome lady named Andy. As it turns out, she already had a Yellow Naped, named Babbles. Babbles was incredibly jealous, and became a real jerk, so even though she tried to make it work for the past few years, the birds just weren't having it. So she found us, and I am absolutely in love with this bird! I never knew I'd find a bird to be a better pet than a DOG!! But honestly, this guy is incredible. He snuggles up to me, and talks to me all the time. I hate to sound arrogant about it all, but I think that in the end, and especially because I spend so much time with him, that Vegas is MY bird. That I am HIS human, his flock leader. He seems to listen to me the best, and he already gives me silly bird-ish kisses. I hope so, even if it makes everyone else a little peeved. It's really only fair, though, if I am the one putting all the work into him, and his bonding. I need to cut this short for now, my back hurts, but I will come back later and talk more about him.

When lyrics say it better than I do....

I let them. I am sorry if that makes me seem lazy. Or anything bad. It isn't my intention. I'm not trying to be a "music whore". But I also love music. I love the way it makes me feel. I am emotional, no ifs and or buts. I won't argue it. It may mean that my life has more pain than the average, some of it brought on by myself. It may mean also, that my life has more color than average, I don't know. This is the only life I know for a fact I recall clearly. *grin*
So, sometimes, people have been able to say things better or simply just before me. I don't want to repeat things so that they lose their meaning. And just because I use someone else's words doesn't mean I mean them any less than as if I came up with them on my own. Sometimes, the music helps the lyrics. Sometimes, I listen to a song and get caught up in the emotion of it all. The music, the voice of the singer, the words... I can't *help* but that is who I am. It is always who I will be. I have loved lyrics *words* and music since I was young. I don't mean to be annoying. I don't mean to turn into an insta-dork and sing loudly *sometimes badly* along. I don't mean to pester by forwarding lyrics that say something to me. It's just me expressing myself, and I sometimes have a hard time doing so. Sometimes, I feel like I am misunderstood a lot, and I wanna celebrate when I find a song that helps explain things. I like knowing that somewhere, someone has *gotten* it. So. Sometimes, lyrics say it all. It simply is the way I am.

For some lyrics that say it all, see below.... *these are merely some that have spoken to me through time.I am not silly enough to put them all down, lolz*

http://www.metrolyrics.com/reflection-lyrics-christina-aguilera.html
http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/rent/anotherday.htm
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/daughtry/crashed.html
http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/b/backstreet_boys/what_makes_you_different.html
http://www.metrolyrics.com/if-you-only-knew-lyrics-shinedown.html
http://www.metrolyrics.com/time-after-time-lyrics-quietdrive.html
http://www.metrolyrics.com/come-on-get-higher-lyrics-matt-nathanson.html
http://www.metrolyrics.com/lucky-lyrics-jason-mraz.html
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/britneyspears/everytime.html
http://www.elyrics.net/read/j/john-mayer-lyrics/covered-in-rain-lyrics.html
http://www.elyrics.net/read/d/daniel-bedingfield-lyrics/i-can_t-read-you-lyrics.html
http://www.elyrics.net/read/d/daniel-bedingfield-lyrics/complicated-lyrics.html
http://www.elyrics.net/read/d/daniel-bedingfield-lyrics/show-me-the-real-you-lyrics.html
http://www.elyrics.net/read/s/seether-lyrics/broken-lyrics.html
http://www.elyrics.net/read/b/blessid-union-of-souls-lyrics/real-good-friends-lyrics.html

Being Strong...

When I was a child, of course, a whole bunch of uncalled stuff happened. I don't need to get into it, but one major thing was the death of my adoptive mom, Marianne. I was so young when I was taken away from my birth mom that I only really knew "Meme" as my mom. And being a rotten ADHD kid, I needed a defender, and she was it. She was the one thing, the one fierce force that stood between me and a world that mainly didn't *get* me.
And it's been years, so most of the details are fuzzy. But I do recall the sick sick feeling when I was told she had cancer. And I remember plenty of times being in one hospital or another. I remember watching this incredibly strong gorgeous woman gradually losing this battle. Sure, we fought. We all fought. My father spent countless amounts of money. We went to Vanderbilt, we went to Houston. I can't even remember all the places, doctors, faces. But I remember the fight. I remember the books I read. I remember it all. I remember her telling me it was back. I knew something was up. I had been away at church camp, and I got mail from my sister, and I knew she had sent it from Nashville, and not Atlanta from the post office stamp, and so I just KNEW. In fact, I hyperventillated that night. So when I got back, Meme sat me on the ottoman to her chair. I remember that chair in detail. It was blue, and it had been recovered. The blue print had little flowers on it. Anyway. So, she sat me down, and she told me the cancer was back. I knew. We all knew.
And then I watched her slowly fade away from us. First, I remember the hospital bed downstairs in the den. I remember her sipping ornage juice from a straw and not being able to talk. Cindy, my sister, practically lived with us, and my grandparents moved back to Tennessee from Florida to stay by us and help. I remember the last birthday we had with her, and what I gave her.* I will add a footnote as to what that was* I remember her being moved to the Harton Hospital in Tullahoma. Dr. Bills was her doctor. I remember Pastor Barnes taking me to go see her. That last day. I talked to her for a bit, and I told her I loved her, that I would be back. I spent the weekend at Danielle Bryan's. Karen, her mom, was friend of my sister's. When I got him, Scott, my brother, was there. He was outside in the garage smoking a cigarette, and I ran to him and hugged him. He hugged me hard and then put out his cigarette, and told me to come inside with him. This....this moment,I will never forget. I don't know which nephew it was, but I assume it was Bryce. He was crawling on the floor beside me, and I was sitting on my manatee afghan thing. Cyndi looked at me, Daddy sitting in his chair, and she says, "Sarah....Meme died today." I don't know what else I did for sure except laying my head down and only kind of crying. I don't know when I finally disolved into tears. I remember at some point running up to look out my window at the stars, like I used to when I missed her on visits with my biological mom. *our song, Meme's and mine, was "Somewhere Out There" from an American Tail, and the line "It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star" was kind of our thing.* Anywho. I remember my teachers coming out to see me. I remember all the hundreds *literally* of cards and flowers and casseroles. I knew my parents were big in my community, but you don't realize it fully until you see so many cards of well wishes that you can't even count them all. I remember everything changing then. I stayed with my Methodist Church Prayer Partners, Joe and Judy Pawluck. Then, Daddy started dating Joy. They got married 7 months after Meme died. Needless to say, the rest is a whole ton of other stories.
I don't even know why I wrote all this. Except to say, I miss my mom sometimes. I miss, no HATE that she isn't here to see my beautiful children. That she has to lose to something so unfair and evil as cancer. But above all, I just miss her love. I miss the strong amazing person she was. I am sure I have let her down along the way. I am sure she misses us just as much. I,well, I hate to even think how badly Cyndi missed her. Does miss her. I remember her crying at night. Daddy, too. And I hate that no one talks about her. I hate that I never see any pics of her except the one I have. That she is taboo these days, which is exactly what she wrote to us about in her letter.... "Let my name ever be the household word it always was." I hate that no one that I know remembers her. *sigh* It is what it is. I guess, in the end, I just want to say, like many have before. Love what you have. Please.

Words

Crashing. Pulsing. Charging. Sometimes they flitter here and there.
Sometimes they slam headlong into one another and blend into
nonsensical syllables. At times, they flow, steady, sure and ringing
true. Other times, they seem to stumble out, uncertain of what effect
they may have upon the ears they land on.Other times, they swirl around
with a vengance, angry, sad, any number of negative emotions running
rampant and wild. They can grow dark and stormy when I am hurt, crying
out and badgering me to use them to lash out in retalitaion.Other
people's words reach them, too, and affect them. They melt into liquid
heat when thoughts of candlelight and feathery touches spring into
existence and ease out languidly with a purr. *Meow!* But for all the
forms the words can take, and all the things they are, all the worlds
they can build up and break down, they are never ever ever gone. The
words will remain long after I have gone, and indeed, they prove above
all, that I once WAS.

Watchmen, and what a real hero is...

I've been having a lot of fun lately blogging with Emily Richett from WXMI (Fox17). Last night, I went to a pre-screening she hosted for the comic/graphic novel based movie, The Watchmen. I didn't know much about the comic series that inspired the movie, but it looked incredible and EPIC. (Background: It was released in 1986 as 12 issues, then packaged as a graphic novel and it is decribed as having " revolutionized the comic world".) So I went to this movie. It looked Sin City-ish. It was. Sorta. In that gritty graphic graphic novel way.And I loved so many aspects of it, even down to some of the violence. (Let's face it, violence is a part of life. Heck, birth is incredibly violent, and that's one of the most important moments in life!)(though a couple of scenes had me covering my face, for sure) When I got home, I grabbed my EW mag I had just gotten (b/c we NEVER check our mail) that had The Comedian on the cover (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) And I read the article about the movie. They broke down the characters, and the archetype hero they resembled, as well as the complete irony in the faults of each. (such as The NiteOwl being a "schlubby impotent" loser, while being a cross between Iron Man and Batman) (Or the Super Human Dr. Manhattan who is horribly (and dangerously) estranged from his OWN humanity). And then the quote, "What would people who dress up in costumes and fight crime actually be like? They'd probably be fetishists who lived on the fringes of society. They'd all be a bunch of freaking lunatics." came along. And I thought about this. I thought about how damn true that is.And ya know, it makes complete sense. (Of course, knowing the origin stories behind the characters helps understand why they are dark, disturbed, and hell bent on their brand of vigilante justice.) To know how to fight your enemy, you have to know your enemy. We have been using spies for an eternity. And the risk in getting pulled into the "dark side" are huge, yes. But only someone who has some sort of darkness will be able to "shoot to kill, and shoot to save". I'm not saying that I condone bad behavior. These characters have some serious issues (namely the Comedian, who is sadistic and twisted, though Rorschach is completely unglued, too). I believe there should be some semblance of balance, though I always want good to triumph in the end. Dark serves its purpose. This is not some kid's super hero flick, where though you may have to sacrifice one or two minor characters, it all ends up ok in the end. This movie is heavy laden with politics, and reality. Sometimes, reality is tragic. But sometimes, we all need a glimpse into the dark side of the life we lives in order to better protect it, as well as to better appreciate all the good things we still have. (and hey, I will say that in the end, the phrase" There's no news to write about, people all over the world are holding hands and singing songs about peace and love. It's like living in a damn hippie commune" was said, and I cheered quietly, lol!) I didn't mean to write a movie review, though I did want to explain some of what I saw that helped me complete the pieces to this bit of knowledge. I really was touched by this movie in a way that might not make sense other than that it wasn't just an action flick, or anything like that. It was an in depth study into the human mind, and the extremes in which we will go to "save the world". (The size of said world is relative.)

Phelps and Brown....Role Models??

So. Michael Phelps, one time ( no make that MULTIPLE TIME) hero of our nation has some crappy friend sold a pic of him smoking some marijuana out of a bong to the highest bidder. Now, companies like Michigan's own Kellog's (a company that was founded on slightly out of the ordinary homeopathic medical treatments) is cancelling his contract. One report on it states this:
Quiet ruled for days. Then Thursday, Kellogg's halted its sponsorship
of Phelps, finding his behavior "not consistent with the image of
Kellogg's," the 103-year-old Michigan cereal titan. Subway, another
sponsor, opted for censure but not discontinuance. From a far different
culture, the Swiss watchmaker Omega deemed it "a non-issue."



"I think there would have been a much stronger and larger fallout" for
an American gold medalist 10 or 20 years ago, said Paul Armentano,
deputy director of the National Organization for the Reform of
Marijuana Laws. In the Phelps brouhaha, Armentano has sensed a profound
shift in national dialogue and in media questions, even if he does
still chafe when incorrigible headline writers find double-entendres
irresistible. In his view, a swift, toned, dominant athlete who "more
than the average American is cognizant of what he puts in his body"
simply "blows to smithereens" marijuana's images of slackerdom.

The nation has been raging with debate about this. Now, Chris Brown is arrested for a "domestic assault". And what do ya know, Wrigley is pulling him as their spokesperson for Doublemint gum. I'm not justifying at all Chris's actions. I agree fully, in the case of something as serious as assualt, that that is for SURE not an image ANY company wants to be associated with. BUT, to dare lump Phelp's actions along Brown's violent ones, is apples and oranges. What Phelps did honestly, should've hurt no one. But what Chris did was inexcusable. When are people going to get the clue that just because someone is famous does NOT mean they are a role model??? In fact, just beacuse someone may be a role model, doesn't make them perfect, either. How about stop telling your children to look to others, and be the person you want them to be instead????? Stop asking everyone else to take responsiblity for the upbringing of your children. If there is an issue with something on tv, change the channel. The same goes for music. If you have a problem with something, do something about it, and make a difference, or you can never expect your children to.

About the Election of Obama

I don't have to approve of who is our "president elect". I didn't vote for him. When I said I was doing a write in vote, I meant it. My responsibility was to vote for who I thought would be the best leader for our country. And I did. I didn't waste my vote. I didn't make a mockery of what our soldiers are and have been fighting for. If you think that, you have no clue who I am, and shouldn't even be on my friends list!
Because I, myself, have not spent any actual one on one time with Mr. Obama, (and neither, I believe have many of you, even the ones who voted for him) I have no clue what is true about him. His websites, and ads, and speeches may say one thing. His enemies may say others. His PR and spin guys may say TONS more. I dunno. To be fair, I don't know any of the former candidates, including my write in, personally. That's fine. One of the main reasons I didn't vote for any of them. (Too bad Ron Paul wasn't up there....)
Last time I checked, I am allowed to NOT like him. I NEVER have to approve of him. I can sneer every time I see his face if I choose to. This may be my country, and he may have been elected our leader, but not by me. So he'll never be MY president. Go ahead. Get mad at me. I'm not being rude to him. Nor to his supporters, many of whom are my friends. I think the man has SOME good ideas and concepts. And I know that our country really needs some change. Something new. And I'll give the guy a fair chance to do his job, and make things better. I'll give him the full 4 yrs. Then I'll evaluate my opinions.
I am happy for you Obama supporters that your guy won. Maybe he'll do some major good after all. But the election is now done, and I am tired of the debates. The arguments. I am NOT stupid. You are not stupid. We voted differently. We aren't different people now. We just have a point of contention. But I am choosing to be the bigger person. So stop the immature gloating, the bragging etc. Sit back, let your boy take office in January, and then observe him for a while.
Oh, and let's not forget, the electoral college is the REAL reason he was elected into office. The rest of the nation wasn't so solidly decided. Keep that in mind. More politicians chose your guy than regular people. And don'tcha know politicians are sooooo trustworthy and full of good judgement.

New Hair, New Me

The color wasn't supposed to be this dark. You should've seen the face in the mirror I did when I rinsed it out! But, ZOMG it's incredible. It took me a day, and an insane amount of reassurance from Matt, Angela, April, Sammie, My MIL, Pam, etc to convince me, though. I am totally in love with my new dark hair color. And for some silly reason, my hair is behaving better now, too. And I don't know why, makes no sense to me, really, but I swear, like, the new color has affected all of me. I am so ready for the fall and winter now! And I just feel....different? It may not make sense, but I really do. Maybe I am more confident? Hmmm. I sorta feel like Carrie in the SATC movie. When she dyed her hair after the whole horrible Big thing. The dark hair was a new look, a new her. And maybe that's part of it. I spent so much time being a redhead. So many important things were photographed with redhair. It was an era almost. But all things change, and my hair is not exempt. So the end of an era has now ushered a new one. And I think this one may be way more exciting and fun. Esp when I consider the convo Matt and I had yesterday. It went something like this:
Me: Ya know, it was different when I was a redhead, and I was just fiesty.
Matt: Yeah, now you're dark and evil.
Me: So much better this way.

So we'll see what happens. We'll see what this new era is ushering in...

Damn my Brain

I over analyze. I think and think and think on something until it's shattered. I destroy things by over treading them. I examine and take apart every word, every tone, every action, until there is nothing left, and I still may have not been right. And then, it's next to impossible to fix things. It's a painful form of being self destructive. I'm sooo fearful of the uncertain-ness of the future. I do adapt well, but not being prepared for my new circumstances terrifies me. I don't want to make a wrong step. Don't wanna screw it all up forever. But I always do. I don't know how to stop. To breathe. How to pause, and just let it go. How to flow with the rhythym of the waves. How to be brave, and face what's coming, the unknown, with a fierce face, and not show my fear. To win, for once.

Laws of attraction

I have been realizing more and more that you can't escape some things. I say fate to April. She says Law of attraction. The more you think about something, focus on it, the more you pull it into your life. It makes me wanna scream GET THE F OUT! to the thoughts in my head. But even if I did. Even if I vented it all one day, for the whole day straight, just spilling forth the thoughts I have, they would still be there. So I continue to attract these things I think of. I want to pack a backpack, grab some comfy Nike's, and just run like hell. Or at least power walk, since I only think you should run if you're being chased. And I refuse to be chased away by my unhappiness. I may not stay in my current situation, but it won't be running away. That's for damn sure. Previously, in my life, my fight or flight response always ran to running. Easier. But no closure. Well, screw it. I can't live with the memories anymore. I can't deal with the thoughts that are consistently slamming me b/c they are unsatisfied, unanswered, and unaddressed. It's killing me. I am becoming bitterly jaded. And it sucks. I want my smile to remain a true smile. One that still reaches my eyes. But I don't know how much crap it'll take before it's all tarnished to hell.Oh yeah, and fuck alcohol. It turns people into complete fucking fools.

Bat Fink

A long time agoMatt was on the computer (big surprise right?!) I was next to him, talking ( another shocker!) and I turned around and all of a sudden, this bat is flying around my living room. I swear for that first skipped heart beat, I seriously expected that damn thing to turn into Lestat! (silly me!) Poor guy. He flapped around like a giant moth horny for light and then sadly, he had an encounter of the first kind with a damn strip of fly tape. Poor guy flew right onto it, wings completely stretched out. He looked sorta like a fake little guy at that point, wings all huge and well, batty...We quickly pulled down the tape, BatFink still attached, and as he proceeded to chew his sticky lil way out, we gently pulled fragile, soft, rubbery wings off frustratingly sticky fly tape ( damn the stuff for working too...I never want to touch another fly carcass as long as I live!) We looked closely at his tiny, ugly in a cute way furry face and laughed at his sounds, and as he tried to get sticky out of his mouth...He growled his clicky sounding growl, and we laughed again. He soon was crawling on our florr, sassing and smart mouthing as expected. He'd had a rough day, we put up with the bad attitude. He decided to move into our bedroom, and though he may have moved out (we're not so sure) he was greatly amusing. I didn't get pics, though, some fat ass I know ran out the digi-cam batteries. Damn other people's kids...Matt picked him up a few times, without much fear. But I"ve HAD the rabies shots, and I know how they hurt, so like a good wife, I at there silently, waiting to see what would happen. He was so soft....but then I saw those teeth again when he copped more attitude, so I let him be. Men. What can I say? They appear to be all the same, no matter how furry they are!