Be thankful for all life's gifts

This past weekend I got terrible news from an old friend. Her husband had died in a car accident. I met this her a little over ten years ago in Oklahoma. I had gotten a job at a local KFC where she was working. We had a couple odd commonalities. Our birthday's were two days apart (same year), and both our mothers lived in New Jersey. I know it sounds lame, but I was in the realm of the unknown, and it comforted me. But that's pretty much where our similarities ended. (well, accept that typical typical Leo stubbornness)

We both turned nineteen that summer. She had already had a beautiful little boy (he was not yet a year old). I, on the other hand, was very new too dealing with the opposite sex, and children were no where on my scope. The father of her baby was in an out of the picture, and in and out of jail. Before 1999 began, I was thrown out of my residence, and moved in with my boyfriend. Lets just say, at this point in both of our lives, there was never a dull moment. Betty was a good friend to me, when I had few. Her strength, work ethic, and being such a good mom (at her age) was a huge inspiration to me. She continues to inspire me.

I have not seen her in about eight years. A year or so ago, we came into contact again via my space. I was back in NJ, of course, and she had moved back to Arkansas near her dad. She had gotten married (to a good man, by all accounts) They had had a little girl together and he had adopted her two boys. Beth had gone back to school and become a nurse. Are you seeing why she inspires me? So needless to say, we've stayed in contact. Sunday I got a bulk send in my email saying only that her husband had died.

I never dreamt I could be so upset by the death of someone I'd never met. Just the thought of how horrible this was for Betty and for her children. It has been so long since I've seen her, but all I wanted to do was give her a hug. I her to know I cared, even though there was nothing I could do, and I would never understand her pain. So I did the only thing in my power to do, I went shopping for a sympathy card. After reading and reading, I found one that was not presumptive, pushy or completely devoid of emotion. When I got home that afternoon, I saw that his funeral would be the following day. I very much wanted to avoid sending her a card that would arrive after the funeral and viewings were over. I went online and sent her a potted peace plant to the funeral home. As I'm filling out the CC info on the florists website, I started crying. I do not cry easily. I cried off an on for about half an hour. I hated that she had this devastation thrust upon her. I hated feeling helpless. I hated crying about this. I hope this can give you all some prospective on how good our lives are. Let us all be thankful for all of our gifts.

Please, if you pray, please pray for Betty and her family.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The opposite sex: preference or racism?

I'm one of those people who thinks way to much. Surely if you've read this blog before, you know this. But, I've had this one thought banging around my brain for awhile. Perhaps, its a guilt place holder. You know, when I don't have anything pressing to feel guilty for, it just pops up on the front burner. At any rate, I need some input.



Everyone has turn-ons and turn-offs when it comes to attraction to the opposite sex. Build, hair or eye color, voice, mannerisms, can flip the switch from yeah to ney. Are these preferences really prejudices? Lets really look at this, there are definitely women who will not even consider dating a man shorter then themselves, and many men don't want to date a women taller then them (hahaha). Most of us don't like to think ourselves guided by whats on the surface, but it gets us all to some extent.

So here's my personal issue: I'm only attracted to men of my own race. I think this is often true, but most people aren't wasting time thinking on this. This keeps getting put to me often lately, as my mother has decided me an old maid. I swear every man she sees is a possible mate for me. I don't want to relive the string of odd balls she's found to be good for me, but they are always outside my race. If I was attracted to someone I wouldn't blow it off if they were another race, it just hasn't happened. Why is this bugging me? Is it just my nagging need to worry about something or to be hard on myself? Or, am I just a closeted bigot?

Rant on Hate

I'm going to do something different in this post. I try to keep my politics to my other blog, but the point of this blog has it's roots in politics, so here we go. This Monday, of course, we elected a new president, a man of color, Barack Obama. No matter how you feel about him winning the highest office in the land, based on his politics, he won. Despite our country being full of moronic racists assholes, he won. We all have different prejudices. We'd be lying to ourselves to think that we don't. This is mine. I am extremely prejudiced against racist people. It is very hard for me to tolerate this type of person. To my own detriment, at times, I will tell anyone what I think of them and their warped opinions. I grew up in a family that taught me to be colorblind. Until I was near middle school age, I had never imagined that there were people out in the world that actually still discriminated against people based on race. Before then, it was history to me. People harboring this kind of hate within themselves repulse me. And now, let me get to the reason I've set off on this rant.

My mother and I went to do a cleaning job today (as we do 3 days a week). I must note now, my mother has a HUGE amount of friends, and double the acquaintances. One such people, today, felt obligated to send mom a barrage of text messages on her phone. Each one, a more grotesque representation of racism through attempted humor. Upon hearing, what would end up to be the most tame of the messages, I was thoroughly disgusted. My frustrated response was (more hateful then I'd actually act on) that someone needed to burn a cross on her lawn. After hearing the others I was ready to go beat the crap out of her. Not likely to happen, I do strive for peace LOLhahahhahahahhahaha. No really I do.

I guess, besides my rant on assholes here, the message I'm trying to convey is: Speak up when people are being jerks. Not saying anything, when someone is telling a racist joke or complaining about people based on race or religion. Complacency breeds hate just as spreading the evil thoughts does. Have the balls to tell people how you really feel. The haters aren't afraid of the repercussions to there speech, neither should we.

(I'll read any comments, but if they are hateful, they'll be swiftly deleted)

Thank for reading
sarah

Knock Knock, remember me?

Let me just start by saying, I feel like crap. I've spent the last 3 days feeling rotten physically, had a cold. Something happens to me when my body gives into a cold or flu, I can't get away from my brain. In case I ever have the opportunity to forget about being bipolar, being sick always throws it back in my face.

I take medication for it, monitor my blood, do all the crap I'm suppose to do, but like any other problem, the solutions are not full proof. Like other, "normal", people, fever can make my mind play tricks on me, slow down my thoughts, make me act a little goofy, whatever. But for me, a fever, or a dose of cold medicine gives me a really quick jolt of mania. With my particular type, I don't get to have those days on end highs, with a hard crash down. I have days on end down with a couple minutes or hours of mania. its really easy to forget what it feels like to fly like that. Its that feeling of flying that keeps so many bipolar patients from taking meds. From discussions with friends (who've used multiple forms of speed) say the feeling is quite similar to cranking.

at any rate, cold medicine, on occasion triggers mania in me. Its a roller coaster. 10,000 things with 100's of possibilities to be found in each, charging through your skull. thoughts so many, so fast, its like trying to catch raindrops as to retain the totality of the idea. It feels like a tiny glimpse at our phenomenal brains capabilities. mind boggling, literally. Unfortunately when your body cant keep up with your brain, watch out. What a trip!!! your body seems asleep and i i feel some sort of in between awake and asleep, and my brain just keeps flying. It's truly disconcerting, I've never been so happy to be awoken as when this sort of thing happens.

If you cant tell by my writing, I'm still feeling some residual effects from the medicine. i will surely come back when I've returned to a more average state of mind, to clear up some of the craziness here.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow, when my normal insanity has reclaimed supremacy.

What a week!

Tuesday we put one of my grandfathers horses to sleep. He had bought him as a 6 month old in Florida, where he'd also live and train for the next year. He came up here as a two year old. (earliest legal age to race a thoroughbred). He had to unremarkable starts at the Atlantic City Race Course (before it became little more then an OTB). At ages 3 and 4 he won a single race with a half dozen others finishing in the money. At 4 he began to have back pain of an unexplained origin. Never was a horse so pampered. He had acupuncture, acupressure, magnetic therapy, massage, ultrasound therapy, still he was sore. So he had the vet start testing. He had a nasogastric scope to check for lesions anywhere in his digestive track that might cause pain, x-rays of all his legs, 8 angles of each, as well as numerous others. Finally, my grandfather decided he'd come home to our house for a rest, and a 2ND and 3rd opinion from other vets. Our vet at the time looked at the x-rays and laughed. I brought the horse out and he looked at him. He new right away what the problem was. He prescribe a course of treatments to remedy it, along with instruction for maintenance for his transition back to work. I implemented his directions for 8 months after which we was back to perfect shape. Well, perfect shape, and about 400 pounds overweight, but what do you want?lol. He went on race again at age 5,6, 7, and 8. He won 3 more races, and had many many other finishes in the money. His career ended with a devastating bow (sever tendon strain)to his right fore leg, during a race. Because of a smart jockey, and the fast action of a bi stander, he was saved from certain euthanizing. He returned home again with a year of stall rest ahead. After finishing his recuperation, he began his new job of a riding horse. I used him to teach riding lessons on for 3 years before he began to emphatically express his distaste for students. He went back to a riding horse. He had developed, overtime, ulcers, and very ossified arthritis throughout his skeleton. We managed his pain success fully, and he was completely retired from any riding, for the last few years. This last year he started getting sarcoma tumors, having a very hard time keeping on weight, developed a very downtrodden attitude, and in the last 2 months has gotten more and more lame each day. That is what has brought us here this Tuesday. He was 14 years old. (ancient in the wild, mid age in domestication) He was my grandfathers favorite. My grandfather passed away in 2003, watching the horse decline, and finally putting him to sleep was incredibly difficult. It was like saying good bye to part of my grandfather, again.

I have been around horses since I was 8 years old. They are fragile animals, and quite often have to be euthanized because of infirmity or accident. This has happened over and over in my life for the past 21 years. I have become very numb to death with time, understandably I think.

I have watched more then one horse draw there last breath, I've found very old animals in the morning, after they've died in sleep. But this, saying good bye to THIS horse, was not the same. Tuesday I held his lead rope and stroked his forehead as our vet drew that familiar blue liquid into a large syringe and injected him. Most horses begin to fall before the needle is removed fully. My boy stood for a good 10 seconds. He has always been so tough. I couldn't hold back my tears any longer, though i did my best to stifle them. I sat next to his head as he lie there drawing what would be his last breaths. His heart still fought. Finally the breath stopped. Our vet checked for his heart beat, and it was gone, he was gone. As the vet stepped away from him, my muffled cries turned to sobbing. My mother was there and walked the vet out. I collapsed on my beloved animal crying and stroking his face, and babbling things to him. I laid there until my mom returned about 5 minutes later. I stood up and really looked at him. Even in his poor condition, blood dripping from the injection site, excrement being released, he was beautiful to me and now he was gone. We found some blankets and covered him until we had help bury him later that night. I walked to the house less part of myself. I am grateful I was able to know this awesome animal, to care for him all of these years, and ultimately, to relieve him of a life of pain. I will thoroughly miss him.

Back by popular demand :+)

Hello out there!

I've apparently been so busy and scatter-brained, that Rich, (of all people) has gotten back to my blog before I have. Have no fear. I am alive. The last few weeks have been a bit hectic, and my brain has been moving in slow motion.


Last Saturday I got my FAVORITE cousin to meet me for lunch. He's a lawyer for the VA in DC. He was up with some chums to Atlantic city for labor day weekend and we met at a diner between AC and my house. We could not have grown up more differently, we're not related by blood, but we are so much alike. He was an air force brat living all over the world before he was a teenager. I've still yet to leave the country. He got a perfect score on his AC T's, I got a near perfect score on my GED, lol. he had 2 brothers, i grew up an only child (sister was adopted after i was grown and moved away) He got a full scholarship to OU plus allowance, I made payments to the Stratford Career institute for my mail order Vet Tech course. He graduated from Georgetown law last spring, I have heard of Georgetown. So we have no reason to be alike, least of all now that we're adults. But we are. We could have sat and BSed in that dinner all day long. I love that kid. I lived with his family when i was 18/19 for about 9 mos. he really became more like a brother to me then anything. We hadn't really talked alone since his mom threw me out of there house almost 10 years ago. Long story, basically she's a psycho. But I had an awesome time, I didn't want the afternoon to end. A few years ago I wouldn't have had the never to ask him to meet me for lunch. It's not that he hasn't always been awesome to me, I just felt guilty, as if my having lived with them back then, had made a negative impact on his home life. I'm sure that it did for awhile. I guess as you grow up, you realize, you are not the be all and end all. So I'm really grateful for our visit and I think we'll do it again soon.


My other excitement was a job interview. I had posted my resume on monster and applied for a few part time jobs. One was a data entry position at Burl. Coat factories corp office. A few weeks after I had applied i got a message on my phone from a personnel lady there. I returned the call. She told me the p/t data entry position had been filled but she wanted to interview me for an allocator job-Full time. Me being right into interview mode, paid no attention to the full time part, and told her I'd be interested in interviewing for the position, thanking her for thinking of me, blah blah blah. Since I've been working exclusively on the farm for the past few years, my corporate wardrobe was lacking. Of course this was the week of the 10 hour days with the baby. Needless to say, time to prepare a suitable outfit for this interview rolled over to the next week. My interview was scheduled for this past Thursday. Wednesday night, at 7pm i was up to my elbows in close at a Ross. I have lost a little more then 30 pounds since the last time I had to buy anything more then work clothes. I had to try everything on. I hate that, and the shopping itself isn't that hot either. i got so tired after i tried on the first million things that didn't fit right, I just rushed through and grab a bunch of things that matched each other. I tried them all on Thursday morning while the baby was bouncing away in his jumparoo. i found some combination that worked. (so i get to return the rest and get my money back YAY)

The interview was at 3pm. My mom took the baby and I went. The interview was pretty intense, at least for me it was. First I had to take a math test. I am not good at math, but I'm good at the simple business stuff from working in retail. I aced it, woohoo. there were two open positions and i was ultimately interviewed my 4 people. Seem a little much to me, but whatever.
During the last interview, i started to get tired. I was up at 6 working in the barn, then cleaning up the house, baby got there at 8:30, had him until2:15 when i left for the interview. As the woman was talking I started to panic. What is wrong with me? What in God's name made me come to this interview? I am freaking nuts if i think I can get up earlier then six to get all the morning BS done, get home from work around 6 and start more manual labor, shoving something in my mouth around 8, sleep walking through a shower, and crashing into bed.
Not to mention not knowing whether or not my mom was going to be able to handle having the baby until he could get into a day care.

Of course this was on the inside, and on the outside was my job interview me, smiling, making witty re tortes, asking poiniant questions, I'm good at interviews, so basically was on auto pilot. leaving me with plenty of time for my internal monologue to freak me out.

I got to the parking lot, drove to my house, and made it all the way to the bathroom before i puked. I'm deciding now whether I should write them a letter of thanks, and respectfully ask to be removed from consideration, or just wait and see if I get one of the positions, and hope everything smooths out. The odds are against me getting either of the positions, as i have not worked in that field for 8 years, and I'm sure that the other applicants are more qualified. Plus i don't have any college degree, which is apparently requested, apon my viewing of the job description. It would be awesome for me if i could get this job and hold it down. I guess I'm going to pray about it and make a decision on Monday.
I'm exhausted now, and am beginning to crash, so I'll say goodnight

Snap out of it, you big baby!

Hello Out there!

This week has really kicked my butt. Ten hour days with the baby. That wouldn't be so bad if didn't have to do the rest of my work. My mom had, or is having, a mental melt down. She had made so much progress in the last couple months, but now she's slid back to the state she was in more then a month ago. Because of that, I have a little more to do, and a lot more time to spend helping her get through the day. I'm busy and tired. It would seem that would sum it all up.

In the grand scheme of things, my life is wonderful. It is easy to forget that so many of us are privileged. We have a place to live, clothing, food and clean water. We have heat to keep us warm through the winter and a good amount of us have air conditioning to save us from breaking a sweat in the summer.

It's funny, I comprehend how good my life is compared to so many others, and yet I still feel overwhelmed. Would those without food and shelter not welcome my "burdens" to have what we have? I would guess yes.

Maybe it become harder to feel free of the urge to complain, when we are not in some sort of physical turmoil. This seems to be true for me. Things in my life could be going terribly, and my mind might be spinning from it, but I don't feel like life is all that bad. When my body has a physical reaction (exhaustion, intense or constant pain, illness via infection, or organic illness) seeing how blessed I am becomes much harder.

Today for example, more then one thing, physically, is bothering me. (I'm hoping after I write this, I might be able to push it to the back of my mind) The feeling of being on your feet all day, doing manual labor in the heat, working past your physical limitations, we all have had that feeling. A feeling that someone has pulled the plug and drained you of all your strength. I got kicked in the hip by one of the horses yesterday. That was the cherry on top for me, lol.

At any rate, I guess this was a round about gratitude posting.

Today I'm doing my best to be grateful for everything. Even the things that make me feel sorry for myself. But especially for whatever it is that slaps me across the face and says, "Snap out of it you big baby!

I hope everyone enjoys the weekend.
tootaloo

sarah

Let me start by saying, intelligible thought are not readily flowing through my fingertips, at the moment.

I have so much on my mind, things that, when I'm not sitting in front of the computer, I have easy access to. Every time, as of late, that I have the opportunity to write, here and on my other blog, all of my sense seems to leave me. In fact, this blog, thus far, is the most coherent thing I've been able to write in the last 2 weeks. Hopefully, I'll be able to organize some of the things that have been clogging up my brain.

money
jobs
my nephew
my parents
my sister
the dogs
the horses
maintenance on the outdoor buildings
privacy or rather lack there of
transportation
my birthday
Oklahoma and my friends there
grass, trees, weeds
vacuum cleaners
cleaning out the shed (smashing all the things in it that are not mine)
my cousin in DC
jealousy
lust
escape
vacation
exercise
headaches
impatience
frustration
fireworks
losing weight
cleaning
eating right
avoiding things made in china
trying to buy things that are environmentally friendly
loneliness
sex
painting walls and buildings
painting for entertainment
getting the poem in my head out and onto paper
the election
the war(s)
stupid campaign ads
chocolate
freedom (all definitions of freedom are applicable)
comedy (too many jokes)


I'm just mentally and physically beat to a pulp. I'm sure that from the above it is clear, that my marbles are banging around in my skull in no particular order. I feel a little less jumbled after having written all the crap in my brain down. Hopefully this little regurgitation of the mind will help get me back in working err..... writing order.

"SERENITY NOW!!!"

The theory of attraction?

Now, when I hear "the theory of attraction" it sounds like a "men are from mars and women..etc", but as I learned the other day (while pacing around the house with a screaming baby) on Oprah, its about getting what you want out of life. that is my understanding of it, at any rate. The basic schpeel is that you put good energy out into the universe and good comes back, but you also have to, now on this I'm a little cloudy, look for what you want? envision what you want? focus on what you want? There were three women up there talking to Oprah about their books on this topic, and they all had a lot to say, so it's a little jumbled in my head right now.

The part that I honed in on was this; making a vision board. You're suppose to take a piece of poster board or a bulletin board or something, and fasten to it things you want. You are suppose to do this all the time, and leave it up where you can see it, and look at it every day. Of course, they suggested cutting things out of magazines that represent things that you want. Not just material things, but romantically, educationally, spiritually, whatever.



So I bit. I am own little Van Goh, so I have poster board around. I thought finding things to put on it might be a little difficult, so I cut it down to about 11x13. It has in fact been hard, but I'm blaming the magazines. I had magazines around the house, but they were all about pretty much the same things: horses, golf, and catalogs, oh and spin mag. So I've sat down 3 times so far to add things to my vision board. The first time, with just the mags i had at home. The racing one was full of phrases and words that I could Identify with and wanted or wanted to feel.

"Prized", "Change In the Weather", "Smart Guy", "Peace". I found an old an old natural cures catalog around the house and found some bits of nature i felt would fit in: a magnolia (favorite flower), a lady bug (joy, good luck, contentment), a shot of an awesome lightning storm (I love storms). Then I thumbed through a catalog of baby stuff: I'd like to be a mom, so I picked out a picture of a cute baby, and stuck it on my board. Next I went to the store and bought the cheapest women's magazine i could find. I figured, maybe there'd be pics of what other women wanted, I might be after the same thing, no such luck. !


*this is the second time this posting page has ate part of my posting before I can finish.

With this in mind, the last bit I have to say about this will appear in a later post, because now I'm really irritated, and will be more happy to re-type the end later.
good night

I went to the doctors office for a treatment last week. It has to be given my one of the RN's or a doctor. The nurse calls me back to the room. As I follow her, I notice she has flip-flops on. I am awestruck, she must have a cast on one foot or some sort of foot issue. I went into the room and sat down, starring at her feet as she asked me the normal Dr. office questions. nothing, just feet, normal feet with painted toenails in flip-flops!!!
I was really taken back. If you cannot count on your medical professionals to follow some kind of sort appropriate footwear, jeez!
its a sad state we're in, indeed, when Mac Donald's has a more hygienic dress code then a Dr.s office.

Its time to remember all the things I'm grateful for again

Especially after such a maniacal rant yesterday, I need to bring myself down a peg. It's good for me, right?

Today I'm grateful:

for my dad doing better after his trip to the hospital, that mom has had a really good day, that I had a great picnic to go to day with good people, that I have friends and family that love me, for what I have and tend to take for granted(food, clothes, shelter, modern conveniences), for my dogs(no matter how much the one annoys me), for my ability to understand, for the ability to forgive, for good health, for the awesome rain we had tonight, for a comfy bed, for the ability to change!!!

Good Night

I Hate it when people are selfish!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In case you don't know, I run my families horse farm. The business has been struggling for the last year or so. But we've had a few long time clients that have been keeping us floating. One of which is like family. He's my moms best friend, but his family has turned into selfish pricks on him.

He has a very good job, makes about 80k a year. His wife got laid off from her job of about 55k a year, about two years ago. There daughter and her husband and grand daughter live at home with them, they pay rent. They live in a middle/lower middle class neighborhod, and have had there house there for 20yrs. His wife has always worked. The problem was she spent as much as she made. So since she's been layed off, she's been watching the 3 yr old grand daughter at home. Great, awesome job pitching in. Accept somehow they're so out of money, (with 3 working adults in the house) that this man making 80k a year just got a second job. Ok, so they need more money.

He already works 50 plus hours a week. When he's not at work, his family has him doing work around the house, not like normal upkeep, bazaar things. things that they want done, but do not want to get off there ass' and do for themselves. 90% of the time they don't even help him.


When he's not doing that, he's being told to help his brother in law with all of his wants, help siding the house, fixing the car, putting up stone facing, and a number of other things he doesnt have time to do. He fixes everyones cars. His family is selfish and lazy in so many ways, I'd never be able to do justice to here. He's been working since he was 14 and now he's 50 plus. His family never wants for anything. Well, not for anything they actually need. grr... they really piss me off.

So for years now he's had one thing to himself that he liked to do, his fun. He had his horses. Which as you can guess, stay at our farm. He was down to just one about 2 years ago. BUt, His self centered daughter HAD to have her own, so she bought it, played with it until she was bored, and has been bitching about the horse ever since. Her father like her horse, he built it a cart to drive, her daughter rode her around, the horse was great. But she couldnt be bothered with it, and it was too expensive. Yeah you dumb ass, you new how much it would cost when you bought her.

So our friend came over this morning and told my mom, he had to get a part time job. WTF????
Why doesnt his wife get a job, or a part time job? The grand daughter doesnt socialize with any kids, she's old enough, send her to pre school. Jeez, if nothing else she could keep watching her and work a few hours in the evening. But, no she lets her already run down husband get another job.
Oh and best of all, he has to sell the horses. Both of them are his responsiblity since he ding bat daughter dumped hers on him. So now he's going to spend 75 or 80 hrs a week working, and the total remainder of his waking hours, at there beckon call.

There is NO REASON for this!!! This is such a great man, and works so hard for his family, and there greedy, heartless harpee's.

They have always pissed me off, but this is the final straw. He pays board for the horses, but if he couldnt afford it he wouldnt have to, he's family. But he's so proud. and I know every time they have a huge bill on a credit card that THEY have run up, they throw the horses up in his face. One day he's going to go berserk

Honesty

Everyone seems to want honesty. But, when presented with it, run the other way. Someone must have wished a long time ago that I would not be able to tell a lie. If you haven't set of my "psycho" alarm, you're getting the truth, whether you want it or not. Maybe people don't have a problem with the truth, maybe it's just THE WHOLE truth that causes problems. I suffer from "tomuchinfocitis". As a kid, I kept nearly everything to myself, since I moved out and became a grown up, the tomuchinfocitis has taken control of my mouth.

If you've read any on this blog, you can see what I'm talking about. That's, infact, one reason I started the blog, to take the need to tell people everything at once out of daily life and clog up cyberspace with the truth. I guess this blog is my truth.

So, do you think the truth is comfortable for most people in small doses? Perhaps if the truth doesn't get to far under your skin its okay? That's a thought. But that would put a hamper on polite lies. You know what I mean: feigning interest in a boring conversation, telling someone that's overly self conscience there outfit is beautiful, when in fact it makes you want to vomit, what would the world be like with out these little lies? It would be more interesting, I'd wager. And they'd definitely have to stop manufacturing crop tops, and low rise jean in size 20 and up.

I don't know if we even realize when someone is lying to us most of the time. We're all so good at telling lies to keep everything running smoothly. I'd like to try out this world without lies.

I've done it before, but the tomuchinfocitis will freak even the coolest cucumber out!!!! ha ha, I love that Name. I've truly entertained myself this evening, so I'll bid y'all ado!

Gratitude

I think we all should be grateful for whatever we have, and what every we don't have for that matter.

"Some times I thank God....For unanswered prayers"

"You can't always get what you want...you cant always get what you want...but if you try sometimes, you just might find......you get what you need"

"Love the one your with"

And a host of other lyrics, quotes, and poems with similar expressions: they're all right. They all give off the same message, gratitude. It's really easy to get caught up in the negatives. I get into a spiral of negativity way too easily. I'm lucky though, when I start to become really deep in self pity, some part of my brain always seems to shock me back into reality. Today I am going to share things that I'm grateful for today. I'm going to try to make this list at least once a week. Hopefully that comes to fruition. So, here we go:

a house to live in, a comfortable bed, uncontaminated food and water, access to good medical care, air conditioning, parents that love me, a sister that loves me, supportive friends, my dogs, being surrounded by animals every day, being able to do what i have to everyday with out physical impairment, having access to a car that runs while mine is out of commission, artistic outlets, freedom to choose, ability to keep an open mind, trust in God, Freedom from fear, getting to watch my nephew during the week and watching him grow, being able to help my parents, use of a computer, use of innumerable conveniences, faith, compassion, empathy, love.

Graduation

This week two of my barn girls graduated from high school. (kids that belonged to my moms friends that wanted to be with the horses, helped me in the barn in exchange for lessons and time with the animals) They are both really great kids, and I'm so glad I was able to be a positive influence on them. They both continue to amaze me. The girls went to different HS, lived very different lives, but both did so well for themselves. In the fall, they both go away to college to become teachers. One of there graduations parties was today. My mom and I went. It was a nice time. But, I found myself a little sentimental. I kept picturing the ten year old little girl I'd pick up on my way to the barn at 8am every Saturday, no matter how cold or how hot it was, she'd be waiting at the door. She was always wide awake and talkative for our 15 minute ride. No matter how tired I was from work that week, or how frustrated I might be with life's little pit falls, she always made me smile. Sharing my love of riding with these two, seems to have had a good impact on us all. I'm such a sissy. I'm sitting here typing and getting teary eyed. Anyway, *sniff sniff* My girls are all grown up, sort of,haha .

Cooled off....

Well, it has taken all of five days, but it would seem that my temper and the weather have both cooled down. There's a prayer that they say a lot in Alcoholics Anonymous (not a member, but my mom is, i.e. lots of time at meetings as a kid)

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

It doesn't always make me feel better, but I have jet to find a situation causing any negative feeling in me, that this little prayer doesn't apply.

Having a recovering alcoholic as a parent can definitely have an effect on you. She got sober when I was three, so I remember very little of her drinking/drugging. But I went to tons of meetings. I was a pretty good kid, so I sat and colored most of the time. I'm sure I heard things that were probably unsuitable for someone my age, but I have yet to find any ill effects from hearing them. I remember loving hearing all the different stories people had. They'd speak, and sometimes it was like sitting in the living room when the TVs on but your not watching it, or when you stay awake, pretending to be asleep, and listen to the television show your not aloud to watch.

I also developed a real numbness to "bad words". Today I'll be happy to tell you my opinion on them. Here it goes, THERE ARE NO BAD WORDS! I agree that there are situations where a certain word may not be the most tactful word to use. But, if you're speaking to someone with half a brain, the your meaning will still be received with the same effect. If you're talking to an idiot, using a better accepted word will probably go right under the radar, causing no upheaval at all. The media coins words all of the time, and they seem to be readily accepted (all be it, because so many people wouldn't know a newly made up word from a classic one). And on the media, there are so many words on TV during the day that were not spoken on TV at all when I was a kid. Damn Shit Ass Bitch. I hate censorship, but if I was a parent with a kid at home all day, I'd probably get frustrated. It's all well and good that I as an adult, believe there are no bad words, but it is still not accepted withing our society. And, I wouldn't want my kid to pick up words they were going to be punished for when they get to be school age. Honestly, with some contradiction to my philosophy, kids using "bad words" really make me crazy. Not so much amongst themselves, but to adults. Case in point:

When i was about 20, my uncle died, leaving behind two boys and his wife. both boys were under ten years old, (6 and 8 maybe?) Those boys were always spoiled, but would never have gotten away with speaking to there father, or any other adult in front of him, the way they did after his death. To use a very old expression, they swore like sailors. I wanted to ring there necks every second that I was with them. The oldest was a real brat, still is to a point in my opinion. He's a smart brat though. He just finished his first year at Oxford, studying "the classics". He is the only student in his class for this classics BS. He's been saying he wants to be president since he was five years old. He's a psychotic republican. Now, not all republicans are psychotic, but he is. He follows blindly and faithfully, even though he has yet to have voted for anything. But he'll probably make a some big political career. He's got the tall dark and handsome thing going, he's had family tragedy. Both his parents were raised in regular middle class homes and became lawyers. (He was raised in a 33 room mansion, but that will get down played) After he gets out of Oxford, he's joining the navy. You know, for political purposes. It would be nice if that shook him into a more realistic out look on, well, everything. I'm not going to count on it though.

So God help us all in 20 years, if he's still on the track he is on now. Don't worry, just keep reading the blog, loll, I'll keep you all forewarned.

well, this blog entry really took some twists and turns. Never a dull moment here in Sarah's mind.

Thanks for stopping by,

I hope you continue to have a God Damn wonderful life with your Fucking awesome loved ones, and your adorable little bastards!!!

Nighty Fucking Night!!!!!
Sarah

It's HOT

A little departure today, from the last posts. They were a little taxing to write, and surely would be taxing to read.
And no one likes to be taxed :+)

It has been hot here. Not 107 degrees for 9 days hot, (that really sucks), but humid sickening NJ hot. Working outside, you fully appreciate the difference a few degrees can make. But the really bad part of hot weather and working outside is Airconditioning. Going in and out of the AC makes you feel so sick. But, oh well, its still better then being freezing cold. But there's fun things about the heat: so much fun can be had outdoors, especially in the water. For the first time in a long time, i want to go to the beach, the ocean, the lake, it doesnt matter, a pool might even work. I've lost 25 lbs since december and i dont feel nearly as tired, or as disgusting looking as i did before. I still want to loose more weight, but i'm being very dilligent, and i expect to reach my goal. So the point of the weight thing i guess, was that i found a bathing suit i'm comfortable in, and dont look like a freak wearing, lol. But its not just that, i'm in a better frame of mind then i have been in a long time. That probably has the most to do with me wanting to do something i havent had the ambition to do for so long.

well,
goodnight


sarah

Being: 1995-1998

Well, yesterday I got onto a fairly good roll about my time as a teenager, so I'm going to try to continue where I left off now.

May 1995
My grandfather, via my step dad, past away. He had been very ill for many years. He was a two time POW in Vietnam (i.e. he'd been starved a few times), he smoked since he was nine, and was married to my grandmother: more then enough to make someone chronically ill. Pancreatic cancer was his final undoing. All of my aunts, uncles and cousins were here from across the country. The day prior to the first of his services, we had everyone over to the farm for a less somber get together. I was the oldest of the kids, I entertained them, we had pony rides, played waffle ball, what ever they wanted, we did.

To understand what follows, you need a little background. If you are put off by medical or "female" issues, its a good time to stop reading.

When your a teenage girl, they tell you your cycles will not likely be regular. Mine had never been. It might last 2 wk, or a month, and then i might go 3 months without it. By the week of this party, my time of the month had been more then a month continuously. The last week of which seemed to be getting worse and worse. I didn't like discussing anything like this with my mom, but I was getting concerned, so I spoke to her. She was not concerned and was sure i just needed to eat some red meat and put my feet up. The day before the party I bled through my clothes twice. And I don't mean a little, my clothes were soaked. She still wasn't concerned, I don't think she was really absorbing what i was telling her, with so much else going on. Some relatives were staying with us, so i was sleeping on a foam mattress in our spare room. The day of the party i woke up with bloody sheets. I was on auto pilot, talking about it didn't help anything, i just needed to keep moving, keep getting things done. I put the sheets in the wash and took a shower. I did my morning work, set up for the party, socialized. All while making trips to the shower to clean up, changing my clothes 7 times, and stuffing as much food as i could get down my throat. Never underestimate the power of baked zit, it was the only tangible thing that kept me standing that day. I honestly donut remember if i made it through the entire party or not. But, at some point I went to bed.

By only what could be described as a miracle, i woke up the next morning. I remember this part vividly. I was laying in a pool of blood. my hands, my clothes, my sheets, the mattress, all bright red. I felt like i couldn't move. I screamed for an undetermined amount of time, I gave out 4 big yells i know that for sure. My dog was there with me, I used him to pull myself onto my knees. He balanced me as i struggled with the doorknob (that doorknob still sticks). Its about 25 ft from the spare room to my parents bedroom door. I crawled on my hands and knees. It was the longest 25 feet I think I'll ever travel. I banged on the door as hard as i could, which was apparently not hard, because i had to do it a second time.
By the time my mom was opening her door, my other grandfather (he was staying with us because he had a broken leg) had been sufficiently disturbed and was out of bed complain about all of the yelling, and demanding to know what my problem was.
I remember telling my mom I thought I needed to go to the hospital. My grandfather and she were arguing about him needing a ride to the doctors in an hour, neither one really getting the magnitude of my problem yet. my mom decided to stop at our doctors office, that maybe they could see me and i wouldn't have to go to the hosp. My grandfather wearing his robe went with us. The bitching back and forth continued amongst them. Mom pulled up in front of the door and came around to help me out, but there was no more moving for me. I was conscience, but i couldn't move, she went in to get a nurse, two came out, one male, with a wheelchair. the picked me up and put me in it, wheeling me directly to a room. The male nurse lifted me onto a table. I think the doctor must have looked at me all of 30 seconds before he said i needed to get to the hospital. the hospital was less then five minutes away, and it was determined I'd get there faster if mom drove me. the put me back into the car and we went to the er.

We pulled up and someone was waiting for me at the curb with a wheel chair. Everything starts to get real fuzzy now, I think i must have passed out. I woke up on a gurney in what seemed like an operating room at the time. A women doctor was there, nurses were shouting at me, are you pregnant? could you be pregnant? I kept telling them I'd never had sex, but they kept asking me over and over. In the midst of this, I had my first "exam". I remember tears going down my face, and feeling very violated. The doctor was very apologetic, but it really didn't matter at this point.
They pumped me full of fluids and Premarin (hormones). the hormones seemed to stop the increase in rate i was bleeding, so they upped it, and upped it again, and it decreased quite a bit but was still out of control it would seem. I remember waking up in the ER to someone filling vials with my blood. It was a truly strange experience, they were trying to stop the bleeding, and were still taking my blood.

I was really scared, As the wheeled me up to the pediatrics ward, i really felt like i was dying.
shortly after i was in my room, 3 men came in. my mom, her good friend who happened to be a nurse, and myself were the only ones in my room at this time.
They wanted to discuss the lab results and options. My initial labs showed my hemoglobin to be
2. 9 was, as i recall, on the low side of normal. They estimated I had lost, over the last week, more then my total blood volume. They told us there were two options: a transfusion or to continue the hormone therapy and hope it worked. They had to inform us of the risks of the transfusion. In 1995, the blood supply, was still very tainted. This is what they told me. 40% chance of contracting HIV, 50% chance of Hepatitis A, B, or C, and 60% chance of contracting various other diseases transmitted via blood. Keeping in mind, how many units i would require initially, and a high potential of me needing repeat transfusions (since no one had a clue why this was happening), There was very little chance of me not getting sicker from the transfusion.
My mom was sobbing. I remember squeezing her hand. I looked up at these doctors who were sure that transfusing me was the best solution and this is what I said. "I'm not afraid to die mom. But I don't want to live the rest of my life with aids, or anything else. It's not worth it to me." And my mom did something I would have never expected, she did what I wanted. The endocrinologist kept filling me with Premarin. By that night my hemoglobin was 4, the next day it was six, the next seven. Every hour someone took my blood pressure, and my vitals, every 4 hours someone came and drew my blood. I also got to experience several bleeding time tests. (they cut your arm with a razor blade and blot it with a sheet of paper, seeing how long it takes you to stop bleeding. )

After 2 weeks in the hospital, The bleeding had stopped. I went home, with my Premarin pills (3X's a day) and 10 standard Birth control pills twice a day. I was in the hospital again in July, but i was there in much better shape then i was in may. The had no idea what had happened. They gave me more Birth control pills. 12 or14 twice a day. Until my legs started to show signs of clots. Then I got to start on the Depo-Provera shot. When September came around, I still felt like the person laying in the hospital bed believing i was going to die. There was nothing to show why this happened, and having had another episode, nothing to suggest it wouldn't continue to happen. I signed myself out of school. I didn't want to spend the little energy i had left, sitting with tutors (i was sure not going back to school now to have this happen there).
9 months later i got a call from the hematologist that saw in me in the hospital. There was a new method of testing for a certain bleeding disorder, they were doing it at Univ. of Penn. He said the test had been run twice at the local hospital, but there was a good deal of evidence that suggested the university new method of testing was far more accurate. So I went and participated in the six our long testing, gladly. A month later, I knew what was wrong with me. It sounds silly, but it was one of the best moments of my life thus far. Von Willebrands Disease: a lack of or dysfunction of factor 8 in the blood, preventing proper clotting function in areas of the body with mucous membranes. There are 3 types, mine type 1, was the least severe. It was genetic.
So i knew what was wrong, and it wasn't my fault!!!! There were even some therapies in practice for my new disorder. In the end, I've had to stay on the Depo shot for the past, nearly, 13 years. But the medications they have can help me with surgeries or dental work, nose bleeds (something I'd had bad my whole life). This doctor gave me back my life, or at least the feeling that a life was possible. Not something most 17 year old think about, but it was my salvation.

I turned 18 in august of 1997, the year i would have graduated HS. In February of 1998, I took my GED and passed. I'm told its easier now, but it was really hard for me then.
March 22ND, 1998, I moved to OK with my Aunt, Uncle and cousins. That's where I got to actually BE a regular teenager for a bit. But Oklahoma is book in and of itself. That will have to wait for another post. Thanks to all who took the time to read about this. It was an experience that has had an enormous impact on who I am today.

Being: 1992-1995

From 1992-1999 I could officially be classified as a "teenager". A necessary evil in every society I suppose. August 9Th, 1992, I turned 13. My grandfather bought me a giant rum cake. It was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone but me. (Not that I let him know that) I didn't know it at the time, but this birthday would be a sort ending to my childhood. The day of my party was the last day I would ever see my best childhood friend. She was a huge part of my life. Her parents had gotten a divorce a few months earlier and she'd moved to NC with her mom. She was back in NJ for a month that summer visiting her father. I still miss her, and wonder what her life is like now.
In September eighth grade began. I have never like school all that well, but this year was of particular inconvenience to me. (other girls where busy throwing themselves at boys, i was busy throwing myself into horses) I found my niche. I was good at it, and constantly getting better. Riding was what I was suppose to do, I was sure of it. I guess this is how other kids felt about baseball or basketball. By the end of October that year my horse had to be put to sleep. To say that I was upset, wouldn't come close to how I felt. But I had a teacher that helped me through it marvelously. In hind site, I wouldn't have gotten as good as i did if things had not happened in this way. This was the year I also had one of my first big crushes. The farm I rode at had a foreign exchange student from Spain. I know pretty cliche', but that's the truth. He was a good pal anyway, and definitely helped me hone my chauvinist pig radar.
So, school was definitely in the way of my career as an equestrian super star. (loll) I was in all the middle of the road level classes. Not stupid, not smart, average. Since my popularity climaxed in the first grade, school did nothing for me socially either. A few straggling friends from elementary school I passed the time with were my school day cohorts. I didn't have anytime for them after school, I was busy with my riding. Not that they were at all interested in hanging out anyway.
Something else I had no time for, the saxophone. I was in the band since 4Th grade. The teacher I got for this year of band, put any hopes of that continuing further, well to rest. The crazy woman wanted me to practice.
It should be noted, my father worked nights, i really could not practice at home. She didn't buy it, so after a few months of fighting with her i quit.
Good ridden!
I made some new friends through riding. I had never had the experience of people seeking me out as a friend. Apparently it happens sometimes when your good at something. Who'd have guessed? We had things in common, likes dislikes, and horses being the big thing of course. But there was something VERY different about them, money. There parents had it by the truck full.
They had new cars, computers, rooms in there houses that no one went into, they went on vacations!! It was truly surreal to witness this sort of lifestyle. I new there were people that lived in those giant houses, i just never thought they'd invite me inside. This sort of sums up the class differences. My mom was driving a 74' Dodge Dart Swinger, your feet got wet if it was raining or if you drove through a puddle. Everyone of the girls I was friends with got carted around in a shinny, new that year, luxury something. Some turned out to be real snobs, surprise surprise, but a few were awesome and we're still friendly today.
So basically, what I lacked in socialization during school hours, I made up for with these guys.
I finished middle school, and begrudgingly went to my eighth grade graduation. The day before which, I broke my toe (i.e. horse hoof), and my shoes wouldn't fit. I wore loafers that had a few holes to the ceremonies. My mother was mortified.

I had always been way down on the list of popularity in school. I got picked on a great deal. (looking like olive oil didn't really help either) But, before high school began in the fall of 1993, i figured somethings out: glasses are the enemy, its not bad to keep your mouth shut, and most importantly clothes. I was always a disaster with clothes. This is what I discovered, If I wore things no one had ever seen, and I would have never picked out for myself, I was cool. Lucky for me, there were plenty of size 2's that were ugly on sale racks all over. And I finally incorporated things I actually like into my wardrobe. So dressing "better" and not wearing glasses did a lot to reduce my stress during school.

I did pretty well in my classes, my teachers stopped calling me average. All my subjects accept math (my teacher was horrible), recommended me for honors classes for my sophomore year.
I had an art teacher that really made me think, and really improved my work in that area. Shoot, i even got good grades in P.E. All this positive school stuff and continued success with the horses, was mind blowing. Besides having horrible crush making me bonkers, Life could not have been better.

April 20something, 1994. I was getting ready for school. We lived in an old house, it had a tub, but no shower. So, i was in the bath tub when it happened. My first panic attack. They sound like BS until your standing naked in the bath tub screaming at the top of your lungs. Needless to say, I didn't make it to school that day. My mom had had problems with depression, suicide, drugs alcohol, etc., so she new she had better take me to the doctor. I honestly don't remember if it was that day or the next but i remember what i wore. I remember trying to pick out something that wouldn't make me look crazy. My mom had been locked up when i was a child, and becoming like her was one of my greatest fears, all be it unrealized until this point.
The doctor gave me some dopey med, told me to take 2 weeks off from school, and see him every 2 weeks. I had panic attack after panic attack. And when i tried to go back to school they got worse. Feeling as though you have no control over your body has got to be one of the worst feelings ever. I didn't go back to school that year. I had tutors, and we moved to another school district in the fall. Not because of my problems, it just happened to work out that way. I got quite a bit worse before i got better. I never did go back to HS. The new district tested me and said i was more then smart enough for the classes but didn't trust my emotional state provided me the ability to complete the work. So i had tutors for another year. another year of average work. work i had already done in 8Th and 9Th grade. it was more mind numbing then the medications they gave me.
The doctors figured out in early 1995 that i was bipolar. So the medicines changed, and I actually started getting better. I really thought I was going to have a regular junior and senior year of HS. In May, my life would change forever.

The elusive mate

Why is it so freaking hard to meet someone?

Let me give you a peak into the past, and then I'll talk about where I am now. I was raised by my stepfather, he is my dad, and I love him. But, he was never ment to have children. I spent my childhood walking on eggshells. Thinking three steps ahead, so I could avoid well, acting like a kid. Without going into to much detail, psychologically abusive. I think thats the best way to say he screwed with my head to the point of brainwashing. Despite all of this I was then, and am still, a very opinionated person. There are some human rights I am not willing to give up. I learned to do what I had to to leave in a sort of peace, but I never let it change me on the inside.

One evening, I think I was in the fifth grade, a discussion began amongst my parents

and I about friendships. It was not a planned thing, just a responce to something on the TV set.

My guard was a little down because my mom was home. (one of the last times I let that make me comfortable to speak honestly to him) He said something about not ALLOWING me to be friends with someone if he didn't like them. Without thinking, I blurted out my response. I told him no one can pick friends for another person, and no one can just turn off another persons friendship. He started shouting at me, how I was the child and he'd decide who I'd see and who I wouldn't. Being a ten or eleven year old girl, I found myself needing to suck back tears. He had to keep on it, saying, I would never be aloud to date anyone he didn't have the oppurtunity to investigate and iterogate. My tear ritten reply was this: I will date or be friends with who I want to. His responce was to remind me that I was not an adult and I had no say in the matter. I told him I would just wait until I was an adult, rather then let him tell me who I could and could not see.

The whole exchange probably took less then five minutes, but It stuck with me. As if it was my only way to exact control over my life, at that time, was to adhere to my ill planned declaration, I adhered. The years between then and when I turned eightteen, are impossible to summarize, so let me just say, I lived to the age of eightteen. My dad still screwed with my mind. As soon as I had the oppurtunity, I moved far away. I moved from New Jersey to Oklahoma. I had an aunt, uncle, cousins there. My Aunt turned out to be worse then my dad, but it was still worth moving out there. I findly felt free. Anything seemed possible there, and for me, it was. I met my first, well, my first everything. First kiss, first date, first boyfriend, first time, first love.

I had a ton of other firsts there too, but lets stick with the opposit sex for now.

We were seeing each other for almost eight months when my aunt through me out of the house. Everyone I new thought I was crazy for not going back to New Jersey, but, I couldn't. Besides having a real, productive, happy life, I was in Love. I moved in with, lets call him Bubba, (dont ask) and his roomate. Eventually the roomate moved out and it was just us, playing house. He had his family problems and I had mine, but we were really happy together. I was happier then I had ever been. But, I got greedy. Bubba wanted to move away from Oklahoma, I missed my mom and the farm. He was a netword admin. and the IT biz was booming at the beginning of 2001, when this was all on the table.

He was hesitant to move despite the great career oppurtunities. Now here's when I made a big mistake. I had been wanting for awhile to get married, I loved him, he loved me, we already lived together, why not? His mom didn't like me, and they had a really weird relationship. I knew this was the main stop on us getting married. So I made him a deal. If he got on the stick, and we could get ourselves moved, I told him I'd never again discuss marriage. He cried, but said we could start things in motion to move. The first year we were back in NJ was a nightmare. And, when I thought everything was smoothing out, we had bought a house, had jobs that paid the bills, he went back to Oklahoma to help mommy dearest, and decided, while there, that I'd be better off without him. If I had ANY suicidal tendencies, after months pleading with him, I would surely have killed myself. Five years and he just cut me out. It's been nearly five years since we broke up. It took me more then a year to even think of another man. It took nearly four years to fully feel like I had really moved on (in my heart). I had to sell the house and moved in with my parents again. I'm still with them. I couldn't stand to be alone at first. When I was ready to move, my parents both became ill to the point that they needed me to take care of things.

I had, well I have, really no clue how to go about finding someone. Bubba, haha, sort of fell into my lap. Running the farm for my parents, I don't meet people everyday. I'm not ugly, but I'm not the kind of girl guys just come up to in the store and start talking to. I'm not sure why that is so, but it is apparently. I tried meeting people online. Despite my better judgement, i actually had a few flings. Two guys liked me, but I had no interest in them, really. Not worth discussing them at all, accept to make note of my mistakes. So, what now?

I don't drink, so bars are kind of out.(not that I'm thinking that's the best way to meet someone anyway, but its something) My sister thinks no one is good enough for me. My friends try to set me up with some real weirdo's. One friend actually put an ad on http://www.craigslist.com/. Without telling me, mind you. It was a nightmare. I've honestly run out of idea's. I'm at the point in my life, where I know I don't NEED to be with someone, but God, I'm human, and I'm freaking lonely. I loved sharing my life with someone. I was a great housewife, even when working. I'm far from frigid. I like to think I'm pretty smart and funny. And there is no one on earth more honest, loyal or caring. (hey, its OK to pat yourself on the back once in awhile, right?)

I'm starting to get a little discouraged. Anyone have any suggestions?

Stopping the Cycle

History repeats itself.

It's said so much, but I dont think people really take it personally. We seem to here it and think of the history of our country or of the world. I personally, have an instant falsh of the holocaust. Until recently, I thought of "History repeats itself.", in this way. In the past few years, I've found my own history begining to repeat. This realization was disturbing to say the least. I initial put it to the back of my mind, choosing denial over examination. But, that didn't last for long. Finding yourself already having returned to the dynamics and feelings of the past, is bazaar. Of course, as in my case, it seems much easier to notice, if the repeated history is unpleasant. Humans seem to much more easily focus on the negative, so I guess that makes sense.

I've been making a conscious effort to chang things in my life for the positive. But, I seem to be lacking something in my efforts. I decided to try examing my own past more thoroughly, to better understand where I am now, and where I am going. DUH! Why didn't I think of that before.

Today was my first outer cranial work. I drove to through the town I grew up in. The goal I had in mind was to find and photograph places that I had lived. I took one of my dogs and headed out this afternoon. The weather was beautiful thi Easter Sunday, and made for a really put me in an awesome mood. That's always a good thing, but, especially when diving into ones past. I lived in 5 houses as a kid, 4 of which were in this town. I found all but two. The first one I missed was actually my first house. I was to young to really remember living there, but it was part of the past, so I looked. I new about where it was. My mother had shown it to me on many occasions as a child. I did find the street, but, so many houses had been squeezed in where I'd never thought another house could fit, I was confused. It had been a dark street, shaded by many oaks and pines. There were still trees, but nothing like before. All the houses on the east side of the road, and most on the west, were easily warmed by the sun. I wish I had been more successful, but I tried, and will again later, perhaps. The second one, I could have easily found, but didn't. This was the house I spent most of my childhood in. The source of many of my worst memories, and the setting of to large a percentage of my nightmares. I couldn't bring myself to go there today. I'm sure it seems weak, and or cowardly, but I really didn't want to end my excursion on a bad note. I will go back, maybe with another human being next time. I also returned to the house I had with my husband (a more recent memory). The house looked amazing. It had been so run down when we bought it, and now it was beautiful. All of the yard cared for and full of children's toys and flowers. The house was expertly rehabilitated. It was the first time I'd seen the house since it was sold and not been saddened. It was a great feeling. I'm not sure what my next excursion on my quest to better understanding my past will be. I hope to figure it out soon though.

I think many of us have cyclic behaviors, be them positive or negative. Self examination can be difficult but, never without worth.

till next time....

Sarah

Baby baby baby

March 6th, 2008 my sister had her baby. Ethan. 8 p0unds 5 oz. He's healthy and happy. I am so happy he's finally here.

Blessings of March 5th

The sun has been out for two days in a row! My mother had a good day today. Yesterday I had to buy some medicine for my dog that I I can't really afford. When I got to the Vets office, they had free samples! No one of my friends or family, including myself was sick or hurt (physically) today. I have food, shelter, clothing, and an amazing amount of conveniences available to me. I am able to show my words to the world in this venue. I have lost 20 pounds since christmas. I have access to health care. 2 people cared about me today. My heart has been broken, but i'm still alive, and kicking, and will feel a little better tomorrow, i just know it!

Ok. I got all my venting out on my other page. But Rich was kind enough to remind me to remember the positives, and here they are. It is easy to forget all the amazing blessings we take for granted. I hope everyone has had a day full of blessings too.

till we meet again
sarah

Today there was a terrible fire in my township. A friend of the families sister in-law, along with 1 of her 3 children burned to death this morning. I cannot even imagine how horrible loosing a loved one that way would be.
I really don't know what else to say about it, now that I've sat down to write.
good night

Long day...

Today was the burial of my good friends: mother in law and my other good friend her daughters grand mother. The younger of the two was with her grandma when she died. This was super hard for her, she had never dealt with death up unto this point. At the same point her dad was in the hospital with an unknown ailment, and her sister gave birth to a baby boy less then a week from there grandmothers death. My friend is just 17, she's like my own little sister. It was so hard seeing her devastation, sadness, and anxiety bubbling out of her. The funeral itself had me emotional. I've got an overactive empathy gene or something. I felt hers and her sisters sadness just fill me up. I'm not a crier, but i did cry. In the midst of the service, as i was trying to suck back my tears, I started thinking of my own grandfather. His was the last one I'd been too, nearly five years ago now. I thought how lucky I was to be as comfortable with death as i was. I was with him when he died. He got ill very suddenly while away on vacation. The hospital had revived him, not knowing his wishes to the contrary. When mom and i got to him, he was lucid. He wrote two notes to us. the first for ice, which the nurses wouldn't let him have (the ventilator's tube no like ice) But they brought us these tiny sponges on sticks, the were soaked with water. He new he was dying. With out saying a word he through a fit that the nurse gave him these damn sponges on sticks (so did I). The second note was about one of his horses. Queenie's second foal Piney Princess. She was, at the time in rehab for a complex leg surgery. He wanted to know how she was. mom and i told him, but he wanted to know how she was right NOW. He demanded Mom to call and see. She pretended to do so and excused her self, lol, to the waiting room to use the phone. Queenie had just had her 5Th baby 4 days earlier. Fearing he would never get to see the baby, I woke tony up in the middle of the night as i was getting rushed to the airport, and made him print the best of the pictures we'd taken of him. I remember showing him the picture, and tears running down his eyes. He had wanted so badly to avoid this entire scenario. lying in pain, waiting to die, it took several days for the legal paperwork from NJ to reach Florida. He suffered. I hated the doctors for reviving him, and loved them for the same reason. My mom and I were lucky enough to be with him as left this plain of existence.
The funeral today brought all these thoughts rushing back. The pain in my friends and there families filled my being, and i ached for them. My friends sister said something at the funeral service about her grandmother. "She wasn't just my grandmother, she was my mother, and my best friend." This encapsulated the things i wished i had the courage to say at pops funeral. He was the only man that was always honest with me, really cared what i had to say, and never let me down. He taught me songs from the 40's, how to read the racing form, to respect everyone, to learn as much about anything and everything as i could, to love horses, to never fear my own opinions or expressing them, to be kind to everyone, but especially to those down on there luck, that working as hard as you could towards your goal was not a choice but a mandate, not to run over roosters with his car, to trust my gut, to never let a man or anyone else control me, to live everyday from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep-wasting not a second of it, to enjoy your life, and most importantly, If credit card companies are dumb enough to give an 83 year old man 200,000 in credit, don't name an executor to your estate, and have fun.

Since I've gotten in to my grandfather, here is a short bio for him.
His father and grandparents immigrated to the US, Jews, from Odessa Russia. His mother was German and English, 2ND or 3rd generation here, and a Lutheran. His parents were not good to him. They had a vacation house in Browns Mills, and they'd spend weeks in the summer there. When my grandfather was five, they wanted to go into the city for a show. They tied him to a tree on mirror lake, with a fishing pole, and instructed the shopkeeper to keep an eye on him. They left him for the entire day this way, on many occasions. After his sister was born, all these niceties were gone, and he was completely ignored. A good student, he planned for college, but was drafted for WWII instead. He traveled through Europe, but spent most of his time in northern Africa. He recalled many times being promoted to Sgt., and on the same week finding case of wine in a burned out building, he and his buddies enjoyed that. But, unfortunately for pop, he awoke a few days later, with no clue where he was. Between this and the hash in north Africa, he had an interesting tour. he liked to say he was the only one to enter the war a private and leave the war a Private. he was engaged to Marie when he left for war, but when he came back he fell hard for my granny. Not even talking to Marie, at least not for another 60 years. Granny had 2 boys from a previous marriage. a year or so after they were married, they had my mom. During her childhood he worked any job he could find, most of the time 3 jobs, bus sometimes just two. Granny worked as well, though part time. He was a mail man for 30 years, and then began selling real estate in the late60's. He was president of the Pemberton Township school board in 1971, A member of the Browns Mills lions club for 60 yrs, was very active in the democratic party, as was granny, in the 60's-80's, a longtime member of the ACLU. He contributed to: Southern Poverty law center, the sierra club, the democratic party, Deborah hospital, American heart assoc., and many others on top of his work with the lions. In the 70's he started with the race horses (real estate was good). His father had he had owned some in the 50's, that's when his main source of income was making book. After he started up with the horses, he continued in the racing industry until his death. The only person I've ever known that could consistently pick the trifacta's. In the mid 90's he found his original fiance' Marie, and after a few months of pleading with her she agreed to see him. They were like teenagers all over again and were inseparable until her death in 2000. He's my hero, i can only hope to live my life as well and as fully as he did.

It's indeed amazing how much impact, and how much of me is because of his influence

tick tock tick tock tick tock

I am, I guess, a giant hypocrit. I've always been convinced that a persons inability to control there drive to procreate, was laziness, weakness, and egocentric. As I've gotten older and experienced several years of the loud ticking of my biological clock, I've at least accepted that people who want there own biological children are not egomaniacs. But I still struggle with the shear desperation people come to to reproduce. I think its insanity to manipulate your own body to concieve a child. So, i grew up a little more and accepted that some peoples biological clocks must go out of control, afterwhich some sort of psychosis sets in, compelling them to throw bags and bags of cash at doctors, and take ungodly doses of drugs. So I've empathized myself into nodding and smiling and being supportive. I really try not to be judgemental, and I think overall I do ok, but when it comes to reproduction, I just cant control it. Like I said, I've made some progress, but I still become such a self righteous bitch, for lack of a better word, about the whole thing. But here is where I become a super hypocrit. I have gone bonkers. So many people I know are having babies. I'm so jealous. Now keep in mind, I'm not married have no boyfriend and do not have the space or money for a baby, but I want a child.
What is wrong with me?

The Beginning

Hello Everyone,

Hi. My name is Sarah. Welcome to my brain, and the information it regurgitates. All of you lovely people that stumble apon this blog will recieve unfettered access to my mind. Why not?

Now, onto my first post.

I've been very lucky to meet and learn from some really amazing people. The first person I'd like to discuss is one of my sunday school teachers. I know what your thinking, but this isn't going to be to big of a bible banging bit. I went to the same church from the time I was born till about age 13. My mother attended here from the time she was born. My grandmother had brought her 2 sons and my mom there as children, attending the church regularly until about six years before her death. When I was 9 and 10, I went to sunday school pretty, ummmm...religously, haha. It was then that I started in Mrs. N's class. She was a woman in her late 60's early 70's, and had been my mom's sunday school teacher. Mrs. N is probably the most responsible for me still believing as I do, despite my increasing distain for organized religion.
She taught me its ok, infact its good, to learn about other religions and other people.
Mrs. N was widowed young and had no children. She did good works for her church and community her health failed her past the point of return. Mrs. N made many mission trips to Haiti. I feel super blessed to have known and learned from such a selfless, loving, human being.

Thank you all for reading
More to come,
Sarah