Just Breathe

It all has been zooming by at a rapid pace.  I've tried to apply the brakes to slow down, but all I ended up with was blistered heels.  Life has been so hectic lately.  The past two months have been insane.  It seemed that every time I turned around there was something that needed to be done.   In layman's terms, it sucked.  

Well, screw it all to hell and back!  This is what I say!  I'm going to stop and breathe for a long while.  My weekends will be as empty as I can make them.  We need that.  

Every year, we go apple picking in late September and pumpkin picking during October.  We just couldn't find the time to apple pick.  We ended up squeezing it in at the last minute.  This takes away a certain something from the experience.  For pumpkin picking, it is usually a hay ride, letting goats slobber on your hand while feeding them and going through a very cheesy haunted house that, admittedly, makes my heart skip a beat.  I just don't do haunted houses well -- doesn't matter if they are good or terrible.  It still scares me.  I'm a wuss.  But this year, we ended up going to a road side farm stand to pick pumpkins.  There just was no time to do our usual routine.  

This is when I said enough is enough!  

We were scheduled to go camping this past weekend, but couldn't do that either.  Sunday the church had their annual conference, so I had to be there.   I should've gone camping.  I'd much rather have done that.  

Church has been so damn stressful lately.   I have been aching to just say "fuck it" for a couple of weeks and sleep in on Sunday mornings, but I can't.  This coming Sunday, I'm teaching Sunday school and something is going on the following Sunday, but off the top of my head, I can't of what.

Our church is trying to build a larger church, but at the current rate, it isn't going to happen.  Ever.   I feel like I am in a constant battle trying to fight for the church as a whole entity.  Right now, our church is divided into little cliques.  If we cannot pull together and become one unit, there is no way that a new building can be built and, most of all, there is no way that it would succeed.  

I am a member of a committee that helps choose people to fill certain positions.  At a meeting, there was one person put into 8 different positions.  I was like.. whoaaaa.. I just don't think so!  

We have so many other members that would be useful to the church.  The church has to get out of this tunnel vision it's in right now.  We need to all open our eyes and see all of us -- not one or two.  It doesn't work that way.

We have two women that have to hold banners over their heads whenever they do anything.   I am guessing they hold a banner over their heads when they take a shit.  Seriously.   It is creating a very unstable and hostile environment.  People are growing angry, disgusted and fed up.   I don't blame them either.  I, too, am growing irritated.  

If I have learned anything about God, it's that you do things because they are right and just.  You do things with your own hands and feet because it is what Jesus would do.  You do these things without looking for a reward or a pat on the back.  To stand before God and wave a banner about what you've done is inherently wrong.  It goes against all that I have learned and believe in.  

So I fight.  I fight because allowing people to constantly wave banners above their heads is wrong.  Doing things quietly and knowing that God is pleased with what you do is right.  It is just.  

I truly love my church.  My husband says that I probably love it too much, but is there truly such a thing as too much?  I want it to succeed.  I want there to be a feeling of completeness when someone walks through the door.  I want people to feel as though our little church is their second home, as I feel.  It's important.

It's even more important to have a sense of family, and knowing that the people you worship with are there for you.  It is important for every member to feel as important and vital as the next.  It is important for members to leave the church with a heart full of peace.  This is what is important.  This is what we need to accomplish as a church to be able to succeed.  

I will not deny that the work we do as members is important and integral to our survival, but it isn't the sole piece of the puzzle that will hold us afloat.  Families fight for each other.  Families support one another.   This is what will hold us up.  This and our faith.  Our faith will never fail us.  

 

 There has been talk of starting a cub scout pack out of our church.   A close friend of mine from church was talking to me about it on Saturday night.  I broached the subject with our church council chairperson, and it would be allowed.  But I am struggling with it.   I want to but then again, I don't.  I am unsure at the moment.

Lately, I must admit that I have been missing the whole scout thing.  I did it for so long, and I enjoyed it more than I hated it.  I have to confess that.  I am not sure, however, what I exactly miss about it.  I don't know if it was the fact that I was so busy that I didn't have time to think about life.  Hell, sometimes I felt I couldn't breathe.   

I know that I miss the interaction I had with parents and leaders and committee members.  I used to look forward to talking with them at meetings and whatnot.   I only see two of them now.  

I am thinking that it is the interaction I miss.  I can't say that I miss paperwork, phone calls, emails and hair pulling.   So I am not sure if this is something I want to do again.  I have to take some time to think about it some more.  

Whew.. I didn't realize that I had written so much!  Ahh.. and there is so much more that I could have written.  

Perhaps later... 

Frenetic, Frenzied and Feverish

 

USE YOUR BRAIN!

Yeah, I would use mine, if I could just find it.  I don't know where I placed it last.  

So, I was told to write a blog entry.  I am writing.  Can you hear my fingers tapping at my laptop?  Ha!  I can't either!  I have Nine Inch Nail's new album blasting in my ears.  My ear drums are getting one hell of a fucking workout.  

Ooops I dropped the "F" bomb. 

So, this is me, unstripped.  Not literally, mind you.  

Since I do not have one topic floating in the empty space that held the brain that I cannot find, this is going to be one hell of a mess.  It will be like one of my labrador retrievers throwing up that box of crayons she ate.  A mish mash of color all swirled around each other -- not ever truly blending to form one.  

Yeah I like the sound of that.   The colors swirling.  Not the dog vomit.  I can't handle vomit of any kind.  Dog or otherwise.  I can't handle mucus either.  It doesn't matter if it's mine or yours.  I will hurl.  Blech.. 

But I digress... 

I have my blog set to public.  Not that you really care, but I do.  It amazes me how many oddball URLs visit here.  Stupid bots.  

Even though I have my blog set to public, I don't let just anyone see it.  It's mine.   When I post the link on FB, I usually have 3/4 of my "friends" (maybe more than that) blocked from seeing the updated post.  Why?  Because it's mine.  I prefer to be able to write in here freely without condemnation.  Fuck that shit.. 

You've been "F" bombed again.  I should have warned you.

I block my blog from my family.  All of them.   It isn't as though I have something to hide, but everyone on the face of this planet deserves to be an individual.  Everyone.  I don't give a shit if you're married, engaged or jerking off in the alley with pictures of your mom in her underwear.   Everyone.   This is my individual -- not his wife or their mom -- blog.  No, I am not jerking off in the alley while looking at pictures.  I swear.  It wasn't me!   I was rubbing one out in that adult theater.  God, those floors are sticky!  

It just feels good to be me.

If I could be someone else, I would choose...    Hmm.. this is a tough one.  I think I would have to choose, well, me.  Boring, in'nit?  

I LIKE me. 

 Do YOU like YOU?

I went out to dinner with one my closest friends the other night.  I was sick as a dog too, dammit.  I had a great time but it would have been better if I felt better.  I had a dude want to do a threesome with us both.  He was kind enough to tell us that he had been at the doctors and he was told his pipes were working.    He was ready.   The  dude is actually a friend of ours.  He makes me laugh, except when he was trying to feel me up when I kissed him goodbye.  He's such a fucking pervert.

"F" bomb alert!!!  

Awww damn, I'm supposed to warn BEFORE not after.  Duh... 

See?  I have no set thing on my mind today.  So you are the receiver of a bunch of bullshit.  

But at least I posted, right ?

Right ?

:D

 

Practicing Restraint

As my fingers slowly rake across my sheets, I cry out for you.  My moistened lips part and hoarsely whisper your name.  Over and over again until your name is all that my mind sees and comprehends.  Nothing else exists, except the whisper of you against my warm mouth and the coolness of the sheets as my fingers grasp a tight hold on them.   Repeating your name over and over again as my body shakes and releases. 

Can you hear the sound of my whispers echoing through the night?  Can you see them coming toward you?  Can you feel them penetrate your very being?  Can you feel the need and hunger that drips from every hoarse scream and does it create a want inside of you for me?

You should be there -- to see, to feel, to taste and to allow your being to be forever haunted by the essence of who I am when I am wrapped up in you.  I want you to know how my being quivers when you are near.  I want you to close your eyes at night and hear my soft moans and remember what I feel like. 

Remember..

You should be here to allow me to memorize every curve of your body, and to allow my sense to drink in every sight of you.   Let my nose be filled with the scent of your skin, and let my fingers always know how soft your flesh is as they squeeze, stroke and glide across you.   Penetrate my ears with the sounds of your passion.  Let the sounds live inside of me forever, so that every time I close my eyes and touch my body, I think of you. 

I see you and I want to touch you.  I want to sink against you and move with you.   My fingers dig into the soft flesh of the palm of my hands to remind myself to practice restraint.

Practicing restraint. 

My silent cries continue to fill the air.  They drip with want, desire, need and love as my fingers ball up the cool sheets that lie beneath me. 

Alone..

Shivering, sweating, needing, wanting..

Whispers carried with the breeze in hopes that they will once find you. 


 

Find My Way

"Now my path has gone astray
I'm just tryin' to find my way
Wandered here from far away
I'm just tryin' to find my way... "

-- "Find My Way" -- Nine Inch Nails

~~~~

This is what life is about.  This is what my life is about.  It's about trying to find my way through it all.  I'm searching right now for a way.  I am searching for direction.  It seems that every time I feel I've found my path, it changes on me.  Something nudges me to tell me, "No you need to go a different way.  This is wrong."  

So here I go again.  Just trying to find my way.  

Each turn and twist leads me in the same general direction.  Not the exact direction, but the road seemingly veers off slightly to give me a better view of the world around me.  

I, unfortunately, attended another memorial service yesterday.  It was for a woman who spent her life doing what she could to help other people.  It was never about her.  It was about others.  She was a very loving woman with the largest heart.  She was a bit naive, but it only made her more compassionate for her fellow man.  

There is a man that frequents the soup kitchen I volunteer at, and who manages to attend all of the free dinners/lunches I organize.  His name is Harold.  

He stood up at the memorial and walked to the microphone when it was announced that people could come and share their memories of Carol.  His speech was short and to the point.  He said that he missed Carol very much and that he loved her.  He recalled how giving she was and how she allowed him to do odd jobs around her house.  He repeated again how much he missed her and how much he will always love her.  It brought tears to my eyes.  

After the memorial, my husband and I went out to lunch.  We sat discussing the service and how beautiful it was.  I began to think about how I wanted to be remembered.  Morbid thought, perhaps, but... 

I realized that I wanted to be remembered for helping people.  I do not want to be remembered for how much money I had, the car I drove, the house I lived in or the clothes that I wore.  I want to be remembered for grasping the hand of someone in need and doing what I can to help them.  If I can be remembered for that, I had a pretty good life.  

I suppose this weekend was one that was filled with realizations.  

I also realized that a problem I have been struggling with is one that I should not fret over.  I have accepted the fact that it will be with me for a very long time.  I can accept that.  I can live with how I feel.  It is there.  Some days it makes me feel as if I am walking on air, and other days it makes me feel frustrated.  

This will live in my heart forever and it's okay.  It truly is.  It's a reminder that others see me in a different light than I see myself.  It is a reminder that I am alive inside and it reminds me of the depths of the passion that lives inside of me.  It has awaken a part of me that has been asleep for awhile.  

So I will embrace it.  I will hold on to it and feel it when I need to or simply when I want.  I will probably still feel it when I am old and gray, and that is okay.  It is more than okay.  

I accept.

I embrace.

I do those things because it's mine.  

It's how I feel.

It belongs to no one else but me.  

And it's not shared.

Mine.

Back to Basics

I sit here now feeling much relieved that the weekend has come to an end.  To say that it was a busy one would be an understatement.  I am, at this moment, bone tired.  I could literally fall asleep and it's only 7:30pm. 

Saturday was the most awesome day from start to finish.  I cannot complain at all.  One of my favorite pet projects was held Saturday.  It was a free bbq for the community.   My feelings about it are mixed.  I am elated that it went off without a hitch.  I'm thrilled that we served triple the amount of people that we did last year; however, I'm saddened that we did serve that many.  It means that the need is growing in our community instead of shrinking.  

I absolutely love these events.  I work my ass off doing all the planning and shopping, and I am always rewarded at the end.  Most of those that attended came up to me to shake my hand, shoot the breeze and thank me.  I always say that giving isn't a purely selfless act, because it isn't, and this proves it.  Each one that thanked me lifted my heart.  It was awesome to know that I could make a difference in someone's day.  It is awesome to know that the people that volunteered to help serve made a difference.  There is nothing more amazing than pulling people together, working with them and enjoying the benefits of it all.  

While I was there, a lady came up to me and started talking to me.  I noticed that throughout the bbq she was watching me pretty intently.  I didn't pay much attention to it.  She finally came up and said, "I know I have seen you somewhere before."  I asked if she was at the bbq last year and she said yes.  I suggested maybe she remembered me from there, and she didn't think so.  I asked her if she was at the Christmas Day dinner I organize, and she said yes.  I said that maybe she remembers me from there, and she said maybe.

She wandered away for awhile.  I harassed my hubby and his best friend who were grilling food.  I harassed the other volunteers, because I do that so well.  She then came back.  She asked me if I ever volunteered at Interfaith.  (Interfaith is a homeless program.  Homeless people are housed in various churches on a weekly basis.  My church brings and serves dinner to them.  9 times out of 10 it is my family that does this. )  I told her yes, and she said she was in the program a few years ago and she remembered me from there.  

My pastor's wife sums it up best.  She said it's wonderful to give, but there is something about making an impression and having someone remember you.  It made me feel darn good.  I admit it.  

Interfaith was actually where I spent Saturday night.  I zipped off to there right after the bbq.  I had a pretty good time there.  We sat around a table with the ones staying the night and shot the breeze.  I learned a lot about one woman's family.  We spent most of the time comparing notes on our children, complaining about their pain in the ass ways and discussing our desire to have grandchildren.  This wasn't our first meeting.  She was in the program the last time we took dinner to them.   She was supposed to have gotten an apartment, but I am assuming since she's still in the program that the apartment fell through.  I feel bad about that.  She was so excited to finally have her own place.

It's hard to imagine not having somewhere to put down roots.  It has to be hard to not have a bed to lie down on each night -- your own bed in your own home.  I hope that no one I know ever has to experience that.  No one.

After church today we took a ride to a hospital to visit an elderly church member.  She is the bomb!  I love this woman.  She's 93 years old and was full of piss and vinegar.  She loved to smooch on my hubby.  It was funny as hell because he would get so embarrassed.  My nickname for her is "Beautiful".  She is one hell of a beautiful woman -- inside and out.  I adore her.

She fell twice about three weeks ago.  Her husband took her to the hospital and she's been there ever since.  When I saw her today, it filled me with such worry.  She just wasn't the same today.  It's hard to imagine that three weeks time could change someone so rapidly and drastically.  

She was always so sharp and quick witted.  She was always on the go, and nothing could stop her.  Granted she wasn't racing marathons, but she always had energy.  

When I saw her today, she was out of it.  She didn't recognize another person that visited with us.  She just wasn't herself.  It was hard to see her like that.  It is hard to think of her like that.  

She is supposed to come home on Tuesday, but I am not so sure if she is really ready.  She didn't recognize Bob, and she didn't seem to really know where she was.  She was in the rehab portion of the geriatric ward, a.k.a. nursing home part.   She was lost.  

 

Another sad note, I bowled really bad this afternoon.  Oh cry me a river!  We had signed up for a family league at the lanes.  Hubby and my youngest are in second place.  My son and I are in 6th.  Ohhh it's bad, but we have a kick ass time.  It's a bonding thing for us all, I think.  My son, Nick, and I don't get much alone time together.  This was perfect for us.

Happiness, sadness and joy all rolled up into one weekend.  It's no wonder why I'm exhausted right now.  I supposed it doesn't help that I'm pretty sick.  I can't even swallow, and it bites ass.  I believe I heard my doctor's voice scolding me and telling me to go see him tomorrow. 

 

Maybe... 

It's All Shit

Have you ever stood in front of a vast space and wanted to scream?  

Have you ever felt the need to yell at the top of your lungs?

Have you ever wanted your words to be carried by the winds and delivered in far away places, and maybe have them land upon someone who may just care?

Have you ever felt deeply about something, yet had no where to turn to so you could talk about and make sense of it?

I have.

I do right now.

I sit here wishing to talk to someone that would listen and try to understand.  I need someone that can take what I have to say and keep it hidden away in their soul.  I need someone to care about this and understand it's importance to me.  

I need someone to tell me that I am right or wrong.  I need someone to tell me it actually exists.  

I need to vent, to purge, to unload. 

I need to let go so I stop swimming alone.

Melodramatic it seems, doesn't it?

Perhaps, but there truly is nothing worse than not being able to talk about something.  It's as if your entire being will blow apart if it's not shared.  

But it has to be shared with the right person.

Someone who will not judge.  

This is a hard person to find.  

Very hard. 

Behind Bars

I spent the day in an unusual way.  It was, and still is, hot, sticky and humid.  My air conditioner that cools down the main living area is broken, so it meant dealing with the oppressive heat.  I sat curled up on the sofa feeling exhausted from the heat with sweat running down my chest, down the sides of my face and my hot laptop on my thighs.  I desperately wanted to take a nap, but instead decided to keep my mind busy.

 

 I lay my head to the side and aimlessly began to click links -- one after another -- usually ending up at a website that I would not look at normally.  I saw horrible plastic surgery photos, breaching great white sharks (my favorite), interesting and not so interesting Facebook statuses and then I came upon a website that held my attention for a better part of the afternoon.  I stumbled upon a website for prison pen pals.  I am unsure of what drove me there, and I don't even remember the road I traveled to get there.  All I know is that I was there and the site wasn't going to let me go.

I clicked open a profile and began to read it.   

 

He's pretty darn articulate and intelligent.. is what I found myself thinking to myself.   I browsed his photos and thought that he looked like the proverbial boy-next-door.  He had the softest eyes and the kind of smile that makes a person want to smile back. 

I scrolled down to a link which would let me know what crime he was committed of.   I never expected it really.  I am not sure exactly what I expected, if truth be known.  

He was on death row.  He was put there for committing murder.  

I perused probably 100 profiles on that site.  I spent a couple of hours viewing profiles and searching the internet to find articles concerning their crimes/cases.  It was interesting to say the least.   To my surprise, I read extensively about a couple of cases that seemed "fishy" and it seemed that the convicted offender was falsely accused.  

I can't say that I would ever establish a pen pal friendship with any of them.   I probably would not.    I would have a large spot of fear of the "what-ifs".

 

What if he got out of prison early?  Would he come here?  What if he committed many more crimes that he has yet to be accused/convicted of?   

He would have to be on death row with NO hope of appeal, but even then, I would have a hard time interacting with someone that, at one time, had so little regard for another human being's life.  No one should play God. 

 

It was a fascinating way to spend the afternoon though.   While I truly despise hot humid days like today, I am grateful for it, as strange as that may sound.  It gave me some time to kick back and just piss around.  I haven't done that in a long time it seems.  I found out a lot of interesting stuff -- maybe stuff that I will search for more information on.   Maybe not... 

In any case, it's time to hop in the shower, climb into bed in the air conditioned bedroom and go to bed.  Lounging around doing nothing except staring at a computer screen is tiring!