I Survived!

Can you imagine what it must feel like to be eaten by a Shark?

Just do it.

I swear, I choose the stupidest titles for my posts.

I'm sitting here watching Nancy Grace, wanting to hurl my Swiss Roll at the TV but that would be a wast of a good Swiss Roll. This woman really pisses me off with all of her stupid instigation but that isn't the point of this post so I will digress.

I'm sitting here on a friday night with no plans to go anywhere or do anything and I'm wondering why am I not reading? I must have about seventy five books in my bedroom alone and I have to say that reading is my favorite hobby and yet I don't feel like reading. I am lucky to have a mom that used to be a voracious reader and so before I could drive I would just read her books. My mom is a romantic at heart so most of her books were love stories but that suited me fine back then. A young hormonal teenager has no problem reading love stories but after I started driving I made the Boarders books store my second home and discovered a new part of myself.

I remember the first time I went to the bookstore by myself. It was a typical boring saturday afternoon and I was driving aimlessly listening to A Prairie Home Companion. You see now why I was a lonely young woman with my tastes....I decided to go to the book store because I just love that atmosphere and I wanted a slice of that cheese cake. I walked through the Non-Fiction section and for some reason my heart was pounding. It was so overwhelming, I don't know why but I always get a little nervous when trying to find a new book. Books can be expensive and if you don't like the book it's like pouring money in the trash can and then you are just stuck with this crappy book. I don't know why but it feels almost sacreligeous to throw a book away, someone's hard work just being discarded...that is until I started recycling. I have recycled so many books man...

I remember the first book I bought that day after scouring the shelves for almost an hour. A crappy little romance aimed at young modern women, you know the story. Woman has shitty job but good friends. Can't find love but has a friend of a friend that she didn't know has loved her for years...Ugh. Maybe it's because I didn't have a boyfriend at the time that books like that appealed to me but boy they sucked. The one good thing about that experience is that I learned to be fearless in my book buying. I learned to take chances on books and not to just stick to the typical boy, girl thing. The thing about me is that once I start a book I must finish it as soon as possible. That's something that I would like to change. As much as I love to read I make it a job and sometimes miss out on the pleasure of the anticipation of picking the book up again. I remember a 700 page novel that I finished in about eight hours. I loved that book and I wish that I had given myself more time to read it. I had to go and find another book.

The best book purchase that I have ever made was a complete fluke and one of the best purchases I have ever made. I was just about to buy another one of those "I'm gorgeous but lonely with no hope of ever finding a decent job until Mr. Multi Millionaire comes along and sees the real me books" when I saw a glossy red paperback staring at me. On the cover were the words "Straight Man" with the image of a goose looking rather startled at the bottom of the page. Something about that image made me giggle and of course I thought that Straight Man meant something else...piqued my interest. On a whim I read the back cover and decided to give it a try alongside that dumb ass romance. I'd like to say that I read it over the course of a few weeks but I was done with it the next day and it is still my favorite book. I take it with me whenever I go on a trip because as long as I have it I'm entertained. Come on, a book about a smart ass college professor that threatens to kill a duck a day unless his financial demands are met.!

I became obsessed with reading after that and racked up quite a collection of books. I love the feeling of transportation that a good book gives me. I wish sometimes that I could write a book but I am too impatient to flesh any writing out and to hard on myself to be patient. I'm no snob when it comes to reading either. What makes you happy, makes you happy. I like a good romance as long as it is a good one. I like my Vivian Tam just fine. I just finished my ninth book in the Sookie Stackhouse series that inspired "True Blood" and they are a lot of campy fun. I have read everything from Jane Eyre to the occasional Harlequin. You know what...don't read those. I can honestly say I think that those are kind of detrimental to your happiness and taxing on your brain power. I'm not a snob but the rich man, dumb girl thing is played out. Truth be told I have probably read more crappy books than good but to me the good ones make it worth all the effort. So, I guess i'll read into my bookshelf and pick something out. Finish my Swiss Roll, turn off Nancy Graces prattling and read a book.

P.S. Any grammatical errors are due to this keyboard with the candy stuck in the keys, I like to snack while I type.

Those Backsliders, Backsliders!

Backsliders hunh, sounds like a lunchtime special at the Red Robin. I feel so ashamed. I missed church today. I have been on a mission to serve the lord in person this month and I am off to a terrible start. I would like to make the argument that I am without vehicular transportation because my sister took my car so that she could go to church, so I guess that her soul is safe but I could have gotten to church if I really wanted to. I would like to make the argument that I am still scarred by my experience in july at the church of the holy monster of perpetual misery, after my run in with the shriveled little dragon lady with the head like a totem pole, but I can't use that as an excuse.

For me, church is like exercising. Yes, sometimes I fell sweaty and my heart rate goes bonkers and while I don't end up on my hands and knees that often in church I feel that this is a good comparison. It takes about thirty minutes every day for me to get the gumption to work out, same thing with church. I don't want to go but when I get there I sure am happy I came. Keep me in your prayers. Jesus got on the cross so the least I can do is get on my feet and praise my father. Peace...

Ode to sister Skinny Jeans. i'm bored...

You smoke like a Chimney, You eat like a hog, You drink like a fish and You sleep like a log.
You think you're immortal but let's not pretend Continue indulging Your life will soon end.
You're huffing and puffing from doing one squat. You claim that you're healthy All I say is NOT!
I try to persuade you a fruitless endeavor. I say eat this salad You shriek and say Never! You can go no further than past your front yard cause all of your goodies are soaking in lard.
Please don't pass out somewhere that I can't find you. Be smart and put all this gluttony behind you. I hope you don't lapse into some deep coma I guess I'll just wait and then follow the aroma.

Your favorite food groups are Crisco and Cola, I won't donate organs I'll just shrug and say told ya!
I know you were brought up on Fried chicken and corn but it's been thirty years since the day you were born. You're skinny and cute and muscular to boot but you're veins remind me of Magnolia tree roots.
It's hard to kick habits before you see damage, keep eating like this and the guys will say damn b****.

In the bible it says that the bodies a temple, God didn't know that you were so simple. A temple is meant to be adorned and praised. A Temple's not meant to be basted and braised. You're temple could do with a nice herbal cleanse just remember to go out and buy some Depends.

I say these things not to hurt or betray you. You're nice and that's how I want to portray you. I love you and want you to be here for years. You're lifestyle is going to have us in tears.

If you end up hooked up to an iron lung, don't expect me to come feed you your tums. Heart pills are costly but exercise cheap. I won't pay your healthcare so please don't weep if instead of a coffin you lie in a heap. A heap in the backlot of some cemetery in a bag that say Hefty or Ziploc or Jerry's.

Maybe instead we should just cremate you. Then you'll know how it feels to be Satan's teammate too. I'll keep you in a bucket next to my waist bin, It's not fair how you eat and still keep your waist thin. Cremations a good choice if you should expire, I'll admit that I do want to set you on fire.

In closing, I'll say that I really do love you. I just hope I don't have to say this from the ground above you. You inspired this silly rambling without even knowing as I watch you eat like a lawn mower mowing.
Slow down, swallow, is all I suggest. Bones aren't meant for you to ingest. Keep smiling, keep laughing and remember my words. If we can't trace your scent you'll be food for the birds.

When are you going back to college?

When are you going back to college? If one more person asks me that question again, I'm gonna gut them with my well concealed pocket machete. Long story short, girl goes to college, girl's dad kicks it, girl goes back to school but stops doing school work. School suggests that girl take a semester off, girl's mom agrees and honestly girl wants to as well. Girl never returns. College was just sad and depressing at first. I was scared and lonely, shy and unsure of myself and above all I was unprepared.

I have loved Opera since I was fourteen years old. I was a total dork in high school so unlike all of the kids that were meeting up with friends on saturday nights and having sleepovers I was at home channel surfing while my dad gave my mom foot a massage. As usual, nothing was on until I stumbled upon a Metropolitan Opera broadcast "Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail" and I was entranced. I didn't know what in hell I was listening to but it was glorious and I was in love. I decided soon after that I was meant to sing Opera and was blessed with a father that always went out of his way to make sure I had the chance to at least try the things I was interested in. He found a student at a local University to give me lessons on saturdays and until I went to college, Opera was my life.

My folks would buy me tickets to the Opera and though no one ever wanted to go with me I loved every performance. Though there was always a nagging in the back of my mind that I would never be good enough to end up on the stage still I dreamt. I was pretty good too, I won first place for DC in the NAACP ACT-SO competition, well the regionals at least. I also studied at a National Opera Houses young artist program. The one thing that little stupid didn't do is study her Music Theory and Piano skills. Man, when I went to college I thought that I was going to blow those people away with my voice. That's when I was stunned into the reality that I was in way over my head . These guys had been studying the Piano and Music Theory since they were little and had been performing in programs and shows for years. The most I had done outside of my little aforementioned triumphs was sing in church for my Dad at his Anniversary's.

Music Theory is an evil, one eyed, vindictive bitch that takes no prisoners. I'm talking too much so just let me say that I failed that class three times before I left. I was pretty good at Piano but without Theory I was nothing. I thought that I had a great voice but without the protective cocoon of my family and friends giving me support and confidence I really sucked. I got cotton mouth whenever I sang and never tried out for anything. The only place I flourished was in my voice lessons. Those were my sanctuary and the only place that I was truly happy. The final straw came when, after my Theory final, my teacher told me that I should consider a career outside of singing because my theory was terrible. I understand helpful criticism but telling me that broke my heart. She was telling me that although I have a fantastic voice that with training would only grow stronger and that I must stop singing because I can't grasp a subject that won't really serve me once I leave college. Theory is incredibly important don't get me wrong but not being good at it is no reason to throw away your dreams. After that and being told to take a break I decided to leave and stay gone and it was the stupidest decision of my life.

Opera makes me feel a joy in my heart that I have never experienced doing anything else. I am now a makeup artist and though I do enjoy making people look and feel their best, I don't want to do this forever. I'd be just as happy making only myself look and feel good. I regret not getting my degree every day of my life especially when I think about where I could be right now had I just gone ahead and stuck it out. That's why I hate it whenever anyone asks me when I'm going back. What do they really want me to say? "Tomorrow, i'll go tomorrow", you have just given me the push that I need to get this done. Geez, I don't know what I'm gonna do or when I'm gonna do it, I know that time is a ticking and that I may very well blow it by not going soon but you asking only pisses me off and embarrasses me. I know what I have to do and when I'm ready to do it damnit, I will. You hear that Sis....

Is it ok to hit an Old Lady?

I know the answer to this question already, No. I tell you though, the devil is everywhere and I believe I met his evil ass today in church. I have recently decided to start going back to church after about a six year hiatus. Since my Dad died I just haven't had the heart to go to church. I know that doesn't give me any right to turn my back on fellowship with the Lord but hey, i'm a heathen. Well last week I went to a church close to my home and it was alright even though they gave a twenty minute lecture on tithing and actually told us that offerings of anything less than ten dollars wasn't enough. That's nothing though compared to a church I attended once where the pastor said that one dime of each dollar we give goes to the Lord, the implication being that the other ninety cent's goes to him, huh.

Anyway....I decided to go back to last weeks church since I was running late and was seated by a very nice usher. She seated me next to an older lady that resembled a head off of a Totem Pole. To each his own but she actually had her hair plaited and sticking out in every direction like she'd been shocked. Made me laugh...

Well, she had her keys in the seat that I was given to sit in and she just stared at the usher and I like we were asking her to give up her seat. I just wanted to take her keys seat. She finally took the keys and threw them on the ground in front of her (I didn't see her do this, I thought she held on to them). So a few minutes later I see these keys on the ground and they look identical to mine so I pick them up thinking I dropped them. That is when she slaps my hand and says "Since you took my seat, the keys stay on the ground". I thought she was joking but realized they were not mine and apologized. Next, she jabs me in the side with her bony little elbow and asks me if i'm asleep during the sermon since my head is down. I have locs that cover my eyes but the fact that my fingers were scanning a bible verse should have tipped her off that I was reading. I told her I was reading and she told me that I need to stop reading and pay attention to the minister. It went on like this for about an hour before she bolted out of there after asking me if I was saved.

I am a tactful person so I would never try to be overtly rude and I know when to just let stuff go but I can't decide whether or not I feel like a punk for letting someone talk to me like that or if I was just following my parents advice and just letting her be miserable. I would like to pretend that I'm just a good, respectful person but no...I feel like a punk. I wanted to tell her to back the hell off or just get up and move to another seat. My sister told me it was just the devil trying to distract me from the Pastor's Message. I don't know but it just made me feel crummy. Why are people like that, especially in church. I'm not used to being treated like that in church. My Dad was my Pastor and I was used to being babied so maybe I need to just grow a backbone and shut up. I gotta say though, if I see her in the street, It's on!

Well, I'm about two weeks too late but...

Happy Fathers Day Daddy!

I'm am the single crappiest daughter on the face of the Earth. I didn't do anything for Fathers Day this year. I didn't visit my Dad, I didn't go to church or say anything to my Mom about him. I just went on like it was any other day. I used to visit him every week after church when he first died but then I quit going to church and eventually my visit's ended too. Going to church and not seeing him in the Pulpit preaching was just too much for me and I didn't feel like I was with my church family anymore and a friend of mine told me that my visits to him were morbid and wouldn't bring him back. I shouldn't have listened to my friend because that is my Daddy and I'll damn well do as I please if it makes me feel better.

I just recently started church hopping and it feels so weird. I was a member of my Dad's church my whole life and I'm used to a certain type of service and I can't help but be bothered by certain things now. The church I went to last sunday was really nice until they got to the offering. My Dad never hassled people for donations by telling them how much they should give or lecturing them for not giving enough and this church went on for a good ten minutes about how much we should tithe, and how offering had to start at ten dollars. I was just really uncomfortable with that. I think that I am looking for things to dislike about churches as well because I just want to go to my dad's church and since he isn't here I'd just rather not go. We'll see...

Back to Dad. He was everything that I hope to be someday and am proud to say that I am alot like him. I once saw him actually give the coat off his back to a young man walking to school one cold fall morning. He was very shy but he knew how to suck it up when he needed to and get down to business. He hated to fight and whenever he had to he would look miserable afterwards and need to be alone for a few minutes. In my entire life we only got to go on one vacation when I was nineteen because he was always afraid to leave the church. We went to Disney World and had a great time just hanging out. He passed away three months later and he told me that it was the best week of his life. I miss him a lot but I don't have any regrets, I just get sad sometimes. I had the best possible sendoff with him, my sisters didn't get that and I think that's why they are still so torn up about it at times. The day before he left he told me that I was his best friend. The day he passed, he took me back to college and when I got out of the car I told him that I love him, gave him a big hug and said that I would see him next week. Well, I didn't see him but I know that I will so i'll be patient.

P.S. Thanks for sneaking me all of those candy bars dad.