Dear Roger: Men are Bad For Muses

Well I am living proof of the write/artists conundrum. It seems that the more I start to get involved with things of the human realm, the less my writing flows. Its really aggravating.I really understand why misanthropy and and antisocial behavior run in artistic types, because when we start getting all interested and involved with real people, and maybe, perhaps...HAVING SEX!!(GOD PLEASE??!!), the artistic muse hauls ass to some other poor soul that has nothing else going on. Considering that I have only just gone on ONE real date, and talked to a few guys, and defiantly NOT had anything even resembling anything CLOSE to sex, YET, or even a kiss. I find it disgustingly unfair that my muse has fled me and if I could hunt him down I would probably kick him a few times in his peach pits just for the hell of it. Yes, my muse is something I actually picture and argue with or rant at and it has a visual representation that morphs and changes depending upon my mood. Hes male though, and just as arrogant and temperamental as any damn male I have ever tried to work on any project with. This probably has deep psychological implications, chalk it up to "daddy" issues or the whole personality quirk that I have that makes me more of an Alpha female that just could never work with a woman anyway, but my muse being a guy has always been a bit of a source of comfort even though he irritates me at times like this.

I tried writing today, but after I got out my pencil and paper and sat for a bit and it just didn't come pouring out, I knew it was time to put the pencil and paper away and just people watch. If it doesn't just come burning out of me like a forest fire tearing up the side of a mountain destroying the empty paper in front of it, then its not worth putting down. Some nights I wake up with ideas in my subconscious, and in the morning when I stagger my bleary way towards the coffee maker in the kitchen, I often stop to scrawl them on the bedside table if I haven't already scribbled them on my arm or the wall. Those ideas, those are the ones that often work. They are the songs that I looked at today and went,"WHOA!, I fucking wrote that?" I looked them over again and I usually edit shit to death, correcting my spelling or my grammar or my handwriting weirdness, but these songs I wrote...they were pretty damn good, but the thing is I wrote them when I was heart broken and thinking I was never going to move forward. I dont know what I am going to do with them. My son might want to record them some day, he kinda likes,"Over-privileged, Dirty,White Boy Blues", and he thinks "Burning With You" is heartbreaking, and not something he COULD sing because he knows the back story. Maybe I will try to sell them, maybe I will just burn them. I dont know. I have books and books of stuff I have written over the years that will never see the light of day because nobody gives a damn. Im working on losing the morose and sad because the funny has been all over the place up here lately.

Talking to a guy that likes Charles Bukowski and Tom Waits as well as the Monkey men? Hell Rog, if that isnt some weird kinda serendipity at work I dont know what the hell is. I will gladly send my muse on vacation for a while. He could use a tan and some meat on his bones and I could use a good attic dusting. Maybe while he is gone I will gain a new outlook on life.

Dear Roger; Custom Made Man Or is God Playing Pranks?

Okay, I went on a date with "Eastern Promises" accent guy! We met over at a bar near my place and talked for a few hours and it was interesting and exciting and a huge deal to me because I actually managed to psyche myself up enough to follow though and actually go out and meet the guy. It was very hard to sit across from him and talk to him when all I could thing about was how I would really rather drag him out to the back of his car for a quick and dirty. Yeah, its been a long time and I have sex on the brain. I thought I wasn't interested in a relationship and really I am not into a long draw out courtship kinda thing and he is actually an old fashioned , traditional, take it slow kinda guy.He was cute,didnt speak a whole lot of English and has had an interesting life, but I just dont know. I feel like I am car shopping. The whole thing was kinda awkward and weird and we really didn't have a lot to talk about when it got down to it, so I politely looked at my phone, commented he looked tired, and said that I should be getting home. He insisted on escorting me,which I found amusing, and we went our separate ways. He may or may not show up for coffee tomorrow morning, but I am fine with that because I had such an interesting thing happen today.

I got a message in my Gmail account from a guy, and it said, " hey" And included with the message was a picture of a guy in a banana suit. I was intrigued. I figured if he was crazy enough to send me that, then "Why not?" So I emailed him back. We spent the rest of the day talking back and forth and its like he was designed for me. He is snarkily funny, weird and he understands when I use 3 syllable words. He likes Bukowski and Waits and he even backed up those claims by citing his favorites selections and we DISCUSSED!! It was amazing. He is in the same career field I was in and we have so much in common it blows me away. I cannot believe he is real. He even admitted liking the 100 Monkeys. No straight, normal, grown man admits liking them, but he was even able to discuss lyrics and songs and such. I was stunned and a little afraid I was being set up. Maybe someone is playing a sick joke on me and he is an amalgamation of all my dream men in one perfect creature. His picture shows a fit looking fella,with eyes that gleam with mischief, but his face is not clear in the picture. Im not so worried about his looks, his brain is interesting and his humor is great and I am so thrilled to have someone to talk to. We went from emailing back and forth to texting back and forth and we are meeting this week to have a date. I am excited. I hope hes real. But if not, its just another step along the path that has been exciting and invigorating.

Its been fun and I am enjoying just talking to men again if nothing else.

Dear Roger; Flailing About Awkwardly,Adopting Strange Accents, Kicking Crutches: or How I Know I Am Doing Better

Amazing day. Actually a couple of amazing days. I think I am getting better Rog, even if I am not ever going to be a totally normal human being, capable of functioning in polite society, I have made progress that for me is a sign I am getting back to my kind of ,"Normal". Folks commented that lately I have kinda been not as attentive to the lil fella that I kinda have clung to like a talisman this past year, and in fact I had even teased him in a couple of my letters to you. Now thats not exactly true. I did say I was worried and I commented he was to damn skinny in my letters to you, but yeah, in a couple of Twitter conversations I had said some things that were teasing in nature, but hell... with all the bromance that has been flowing around it was just par for the course. I tease my own damn son about that kinda stuff. Anyhow, when this wild ride first started, I would have never done that. Him and his band of merry pervs were the wall I hid behind and the way I communicated with the world. Nothing got around that to touch me. I didnt venture outside the world of the MP3, the laptop, the video and as long as everything was "Out there" I was able to communicate and enjoy them and the things that revolved around them. But then my world changed and I ended up drug up here to Portland and it was terrifying.

It would have been more terrifying to stay, and likely someone would be dead, but shit happens and I boarded that train with my kids and those tickets and that wall changed into a path into the sunshine,(really a weird analogy considering this is Portland and it RAINS all the fucking time), but that day, that splendid day in the sunshine, that weird lil fella and his band changed things for me. I was a stuttering mess who couldnt even have a conversation with a man, or most other, real life, HUMAN beings, much less ones that were charismatic as a Pentecostal Preacher full of the spirit on rapture day,and as handsome as any man I have ever seen, but to be kind to my kid on top of it and patient with me when I stuttered and mumbled out my request? Fuck me running... I was owned hard core for a long time.

The joy and happiness and gratitude has kept me afloat and kept my little family going and laughing in some tough damn times up here away from everything we knew. I have missed my sons, Texas, my dog, having a car, and often I have thought about giving up and going back to AZ and facing whatever my fate would be there just so it wouldnt be so damn hard up here all alone, but then I would think about just how far we have come, and that joy we wouldnt have had. The fact that I have been moving forward, my path to the sunshine that points forward, never backwards, reminds me that I cannot quit.

I have stepped further along my path in the past couple of weeks. I have made some more progress that I thought I could not make. I have actual, real life friends that I have been hanging out with on what is getting to be a regular basis. I have a couple of grown women friends, Sus of course and another friend that I need to get to know better who seems to be an awesome chick, but there are a couple of gals that like the same weird lil band and we get together and talk and giggle about them and the music and we just get out.

That led to the next step along the path, I started going out by myself to a coffee shop and hanging out and watching people and trying to socialize, especially with men. I have longed to find company of the manly type for quite a while, but I am just so damn misanthropic and shy, that its difficult for me to figure out how to meet a guy without freaking him out. Well, yesterday, a guy came into the shop who took my breath away pretty much like the cute lil fella did. That dimpled, charm and charisma with those bright eyes are just deadly! This wasn't a very big fella either, probably no more than 5'7 and I was just flat twitterpated when he walked past me to the counter. The barista knew him and spoke to him. When he sat down, we exchanged glances back and forth and smiles until it reached the point I was an absolute disaster.He finally left and then my friend and I left and I walked around for awhile. We came back later and I decided to ask the barista who he was. You know you are in Portland when you describe a guy perfectly, so perfectly that the FBI could have had him picked up and prone in less than 5 minutes, yet the guy didn't figure out who I was talking about until I said,"He REALLY wore his jeans." Then the guy knew who I as talking about and he said,"OH thats so and so hes in here all the time."

So I had his name, and I was smitten. The first time I have been smitten by a guy that is actually, possibly attainable to me. It made me giddy feeling and I walked home that day feeling like I was walking on air.

Today I went back to that shop, and I sat and drank my coffee and I decided to see if he came back in. He did, as I was leaving with my friends to go to a different restaurant for lunch! I died inside, it was fates cruel hand I thought, but with encouragement and harassment I decided to go back over to the coffee shop,(pretending to look for a lost key) to see if I could find the nerve to talk to him. He smiled and spoke to ME! I stammered, I gasped! I took on his accent ala "Eastern Promises" I said I was looking for a key and then promptly showed him my key chain that was in my hand. He smiled at me and directed me to the counter where maybe the staff had the missing key. I fled with my obtained accent while his dimples shined at me through the window.

My friends and the waitress were relentless. A note was written saying that I had forgotten to ask him to coffee while I was looking for the key. My number was included. The intrepid waitress snagged the note and description of her quarry in mind, she did me a great service.

This evening, as I was sitting in my room watching the latest video of my lil cuties that set me on my path, a text came into my phone,"How did you know my name?"

We just finished up a long strange conversation that covered things like ,"Monkeys,keys,paths, courage and accents that strangely surface at odd times." He is younger than me. He is very, very,cute. He has a sense of humor. He doesn't speak English so good, and thats okay, he doesn't need to , because I dont know what part of my path he is, but I do know I have a date for the first time in a long damn time and hopefully, though not tonight, its going to lead to a hell of a lot more than a pat on the shoulder that leaves me staggering and hopefully him too.

The lil cutie that got me here is still my touchstone, but im able to get further and further down the path away before I have to go back and thats a good thing. I will always remember, but it feels nice to stand on my on just a little, even if I am pretty wobbly and talking funny.

Dear Roger; Would Somebody FEED the Children?

Rog, it has been an interesting couple of weeks around here. Ive been writing quite a bit on my stories and I even started a couple of new ones. I started this new thing called a,"Tumblr" which is like a combination of the twitter and some odd blog/picture feed and its been FUN! I get all kinds of cool stuff that comes directly to the desktop of my computer for my viewing pleasure and mainly,as you know, that has been pictures of handsome young men. I get a lot of stuff from a few male gay porn websites too, but mainly its just pictures of my favorite little fella and some of the newer pretty young studs out there, and I have noticed something kinda disturbing. They pretty much all look like they need to have their mommas sit their asses down and FEED THEM A MEAL.

Now I know that the cute young thing I am partial to is a bit on the smallish side. I mean, the boy has no ass at all and considering he plays a kid most of the time thats par for the course, but its starting to get a bit concerning. He aint not kid anymore, hes starting to tap on the door of 30 and the last picture I saw of him from some magazine shoot he did, he had his t-shirt pulled up, showing off his tummy and his happy trail and even the edge of the forest, and he looked GAUNT. In fact the expression on his face even looked like he was hungry. It didn't make me hot, it made me want to go into the kitchen and cook up some dinner and feed him. My 15 year old son is bigger than him, and that aint right, because my 15 year old son looks up to that guy as kinda a role model and now my son,(who has a six pack and is an athlete), is dieting! Im a bit pissed off. I dont let my kids live on crap or junk food. We eat healthy. In fact my daughter considers mac and cheese and rare and amazing treat and McDonalds is virtually unheard of.

My son actually got a bottle of his favorite Asian salad dressing for his birthday and was tickled to death because he eats so much salad that its something he actually uses. Nobody in my little family is fat, but nobody is unhealthy either, but I worry about my son because he thinks he is fat because you cant count his intestine lines. What the hell is with the twink look that is going on in Hollywood nowadays for young men?

I saw a picture of the new Spiderman and I was like,"Really?!!" the child is soo skinny that he doesn't look like he could fight his way out of a spiderweb. I dont expect all guys to be big old bulky muscle heads, but normal, healthy, manly sizes would be nice to see. It hurts my heart as an older woman to see a cute young man looking like he is starving to death. I worry that he might be sick, or not taking care of himself, its not a look that generates a desire to do anything other than sit down and have a talk with my own kid about positive body image and nutrition.

Sis and I had a chat about the disturbing lack of bulges in the zipper areas of young men in many of the pictures as well, and my sis's comment was,"Well, thats just because you are out there on the Left coast, getcher ass back here to Texas where we got fellas that wear faded spots in the front of their wranglers with their peckers." Yeah...sis has a way of reminding me of all the the good things I am missing by not being back home. Like another friend commented, its just a disturbing trend towards making everything plastic looking. Getting rid of the bulges, getting rid of the body hair and blemishes and faults that make them interesting. I personally find all the little quirks like freckles and moles and scruff and glasses make a fella more human, and I wish that those that make magazines and movies would remember that. My son keeps trying to rid himself of all his body hair, and considering hes of Scot/Irish descent, hes a bit screwed in that aspect. He furry as a werewolf and the one good thing that came out of the whole starved looking picture that my son saw was that he saw the guy has fuzz...so maybe, just maybe, my son will stop trying to eradicate his.

The Face In The Rearview Mirror #3

I wrote another chapter of this. I posted it on my fan fic page, and on my Tumblr .I talked to my sister about him today and she remembered him and we had a good laugh about all the craziness that went on. These are fictionalized accounts of my youth, so I have taken some liberties with some things, but most of this stuff? It really happened, just so you have a little better understanding of why I am so damn weird. Found a picture of the little cutie that made me laugh, because you lighten the hair a bit and turn up the nose just a little on the end, and they looked pretty damn similar. I guess its just a look. Funny to think I woulda probably whooped his butt for the hell of it just based on appearances back in the day.

A/N This particular vignette will be in several parts. I am glad to see that I am getting folks who are adding this to their follow list. Thank you! I am sorry it still doesnt have a consistent updating schedule, but these stories are based on memories and I am a bit old, so sometimes its hard to remember some of the good stuff.

The heat coming up of the blacktop road was almost too much for my bare feet to handle, but considering I had just made fun of Jasper for scooting off into the grass and hopping from foot to foot like some crazy assed lizard I had seen on tv one time, I wasn't about to admit it. "Come on you big ole baby, you are slowing us down by trying to dodge all the stickers. If you would just cowboy up and keep on walking, your feet would get tough and you wouldn't notice it anymore." I was so annoyed at him for slowing me down on today of all days. My folks had taken Rose and gone to Longview for the day for some modeling thing, so we had the entire day to ourselves to just raise hell. I was planning on us hiking down to the Sulphur River bottom and looking for the Indian mound that we had heard that our neighbor had found when he was clearing some land for his cattle. If we cut across the highway and took the old railroad line that had been abandoned for so long it had trees growing up in the middle of it, we would have time to look for the mound and then also explore the old Waldrum place on our way back, but NOT IF HE KEPT DAWDLING! I picked up a rock and threatened to chunk it at his feet, "Come ON!" " Jeeze Bella, I'm coming already. I'm sorry my mom made us put on sunscreen and answer all those questions. You know how she is. If you hadn't shot me…"Hey! You shot me too! I still got the pellet to prove it!" I jerked my shorts down and showed him the bump in my butt cheek where the pellet was easily felt. Jasper grinned his goofy gap toothed grin and poked it with his finger. "That'll teach you." I gasped in mock outrage, " I knew you did it on purpose! Prepare for wedgie attack!" I tackled him into the grass on the side of the road and administered the required wedgie and a couple of noogies for good measure while he shrieked a little bit like a girl and tried to get away, until one of our neighbors drove by and stopped and asked if "Everything was okay?" I stood up and said, "Yes. everything is just fine. I just had to administer a couple life saving wedgies." They called me a 'Smartass " and drove off as Jasper threw grasshoppers and pebbles at me until I helped him get up, and we finally headed back out on our journey.

Crossing the highway was usually against the rules. It was so remote and so quiet that I didn't understand why, but my father had told Rose that someone named , "Henry Lee Lucas" had been down that very highway hunting people to kill and he didn't want her anywhere near it when there wasn't an adult around. I figured that if my father cared enough to warn Rose away from it, that there must be something pretty damn scary about it, but we were going to just cross it really fast and then head straight to the old railroad and walk down it.

When I first found the old railroad, I was amazed to see tracks that had trees growing up through them. One of the baby neighbor kids parents told me that our property had been a big old slave plantation back during the Civil War, and that railroad had been used to haul the cotton and the lumber to Galveston as well as to other parts of the Confederacy. Once the war was over, the track had been abandoned along with most of the old structures that were along it, and even a few old houses that were way back deep in the forest because either their owners had died in the war and it was too hard to get to them without the railroad, or they were rumored to be haunted. It was one of these old houses that we were going to investigate after we went looking for the Indian mound.

Jasper nervously stood at the side of the highway, holding onto his pecker like he was prone to do when he was scared. "Bella…I don't know if I should. My mom is not going to be happy if I cross the highway." I was already across and glaring at him across the narrow expanse. " Oh Come ON! We told her we were going to see the Indian mound" And we did, but we just kinda neglected to mention that we were crossing the highway and walking a few miles into the Sulphur River Bottom. She probably would not be really happy about that, but she was working a 12 hour shift so we were going to be alone all day long. I decided to just act like I didn't care and start walking, " Fine Jasper, Be a baby! Go sit in your house and watch nothing on TV. I am going to go see the Indian mound by myself and if I get disappeared, its all your fault." "Bella! Wait!" He stomped his foot, (still holding onto his pecker),looked up and down the highway like he was seeing if his mom was going to jump out and catch him being bad, and then he scooted across the highway like his ass was lit on fire. "FINE! But if we get in trouble, I'm making sure my mom spanks YOU first."

I held the fence so he could get through it without catching his shirt on it, and then we were into the trees and out of sight of the road. It was eerily quiet walking along the old railroad and I had the bright idea of telling ghost stories to each other while we walked along to make the trip seem shorter. Turns out Jasper knew some pretty dang scary ghost stories and one about some thing he called the, "Leaf Man". Let me tell you, something was seriously wrong in a boys brain that could come up with a monster that masked itself as a bed of leaves and moved along the forest floor and into the yards of unsuspecting suburban families. I vowed then and there to never look at a pile of leaves the same again. I used to think that dog turds were the biggest hazard, but a pile of leaves that would eat you? and then move onto the next yard or town or even back into the forest where it would eat woodland critters? I stopped and looked at Jasper. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you NOT see where we are?" He smiled at me, "What's the matter Bella? Are you skeered?" I bent down and picked up a stick and started walking towards him, "NO! But you should be!" He laughed and took off running ahead of me, dodging the missing ties and trying to do a scary voice over his shoulder and failing miserably as I chased after him, threatening to beat him within an inch of his miserable life when I caught him.

We ran for a few minutes until we both caught the smell of water. I knew a creek ran near the railroad, but I wasn't sure where, and I didn't want to get too far off from the trail, but it was hot and this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. "Lets find it Jasper, maybe we can wade and cool off for a bit and then head on into the Sulphur." Jasper grinned at me, "Truce?" "Yeah you big baby, you got a truce, but I am keeping the stick in case of a snake." Jaspers eyes got big, "Do you smell one?" Ever since his finger got broke, he was all jumpy about that, " No, I don't smell one, but I want to be ready, and this is a good stick." Truth is, I was planning on whacking him across his butt when he bent over to take his shorts off for swimming, but he didn't need to know that.

We walked along the railroad a little further and then when the ground started to slope away from it a little, we saw the telltale glint of water in the distance. We both grinned and whooped, jumping over the rail and heading towards the glint at a run. I wasn't sure what we were going to find, but it was like the perfect kids swimming hole. It wasn't stagnant at all, in fact, it was a place where the creek simply widened into a perfect bowl for swimming. There was even grass on the edge of it so you wouldn't get too muddy getting in or out of it. Trees overhung part of it and there were some rocks on the far side. "Jasper, I think we have found heaven." He just nodded at me. "Well? Lets do this!" I started stripping and Jasper began pulling his shirt up over his head. "Do you think it will be okay?" I stopped and looked at him, " Who is going to care, nobody is around, we have this pool all to ourselves, I don't smell a snake and its perfect! Im going in, now hurry UP!" I got finished stripping and stood waiting for Jasper as he dawdled along. He got his shirt off and seemed to debate his shorts. "Oh come on Jasper, if you go in with your shorts on, your mom is gonna know we went swimming and we are gonna get in trouble, now come on, don't be a chicken." He grimaced at me and pulled his shorts down with his tighty whiteys, "Okay, but don't laugh at me Bella." He was so weird about that, I never got why he thought I would laugh at him. Boy parts were different, just like bulls were different from cows. I didn't care he was a dangler. "Jeesh Jasper, The only way I would laugh at you would be if a catfish grabbed aholt of that, so you better keep one hand onto your ding a ling." I took off into the water and splashed up at him as he squawked his outrage at me, but came wading in gingerly anyway,(keeping one hand on it the whole time), we waded and swam for a couple of hours in that little pool, enjoying a break from the crushing East Texas heat.

When we finally got hungry, we sat on the grass, drying off in the sun and eating the PB&J sandwiches his mom had packed to go along with the I had smuggled out of my house. It was a perfect break on our trip and I could tell by the sun that it had not even reached noon, so we still had the majority of the day left ahead of us to reach the mound and see if anything was left to find and rescue before the rancher bulldozed it all. I wanted no further part of Jaspers scary assed stories, so we started telling jokes and planning further adventures for the rest of the Summer. Jasper grinned at me and said, "Well, mom has said she wants to take us to 6 Flags one weekend! Do you think your mom will let you go?" I had no idea, and I couldn't imagine them having any big objection other than the expense, but I knew my father got free tickets for everyone in the family that we never used, so I told Jasper I would ask if I could get them. "Well, don't make him mad at you Bella, you know how he gets." Jasper looked worried and he reached over and took my hand. Jasper had been at the door one day when my father had been mad at me. He had a hard time forgetting that. I guess rich folk didn't beat their kids with belts very often and it took him a while to stop crying when he saw me after that. The scar on my head still made his lip quiver, and that was something that he was just going to have to get over, hell, I did.

Dear Roger: Boys and Communication Skills-Two of These Things Dont Go Together

My son was in such a mood last night! It really kinda ticked me off because it wasn't fair. He had gotten to go out with his friends, including his girlfriend, he had money in his pocket that I really couldn't spare that he had been able to spend, and he had been off sledding up on Mt Hood after spending time at the mall just hanging out being a kid. I hadn't hassled him about homework or anything. He had come home to a clean house,(including his room)and that was enough of a disgusting disaster area that I should have been pissed beyond belief myself, but I had also cooked a nice dinner. He had been asked for nothing and given much. So he should have been just about shitting rainbows and all Mary sunshine. But no, he was surly and hateful and treated me like I was bothering him when I tried to talk to him. I was starved for adult conversation with a real life human being. I had not had a casual human conversation with another person in a couple of days and I was getting a bit buggy. Mind you, the internet is fine for most casual conversations, but I am a Texan, and a Southerner so body language and gestures as well as inflection and the ability to get up and move around kinda play a part in the whole conversation thing, so sitting at a computer and typing just isn't as satisfying. I was starving to talk to someone! When he came in and dumped off all his gear in the dining room, I didn't even start a fight with him. Hell, I was glad to see him and glad to have someone to talk to! I put his stuff away and I went and knocked on the door to his room. I could already hear the noise of alerts on his computer which told me he was talking to his girlfriend who he had just left.

He answered the door and said,'What? What do you want?" I was a bit taken aback at the rude tone of his voice, after all, he had just gotten home! I said,"How was the trip?" He scoffed and said," It was ridiculous and I dont want to talk about it, now can I go please?" I was shocked. He had just gotten home and I was looking forward to talking to him and he was shutting me out. So I said,"Let me guess, You are fighting with your girlfriend or your buddies so I get to suffer? Nice...thanks a lot son." I turned and shut the door behind me and I went into the kitchen and started finishing up dinner. I could hear him in his room obviously arguing about something and ranting about some stupid thing that will have him in a surly mood for a week. I served dinner to my daughter and tapped on his door and let him know it was ready, but I wasn't kissing his ass anymore. He knew he had already messed up and until he came out and apologized, it was not going to be good around us.He knows I dont put up with it because its not fair to make me and his sister suffer because he and his friends are having problems they cant seem to sort out. I refuse to let sleeping dogs lie. I will force him to talk about it eventually and I invoke interrogation skills that I learned as a cop and as a teacher and in a couple of decades as a mom. He sulked in his room for a little bit longer and then he came out and he did what he knew was required, what I have always required of him since he was a little boy. He stood in front of me and he apologized." Mom, I'm sorry I was rude and a jerk when I got home. I was having an argument with my girlfriend over I dont even know what and I took it out on you and that wasn't fair to take out on you.It was a dick move and I was wrong." Being able to apologize hasn't always been easy for him, but he has discovered that it has earned him respect from adults and other kids because they see him as a man who is capable of admitting when he was wrong. Thats a hard thing to do and I struggled with it myself when I was younger and I wanted to help him avoid all that pain, so I taught him to always admit his mistakes and stand up and own them and apologize, but to never stand for being abused.

My son knows I wont ever stand for it again. Sometimes I choose to walk away from a fight rather than engage in one, but I will not be brow beaten or abused ever again and I have taught my son to never take abuse and denigration from anyone. We actually got to talking about it again last night when an actor who is infamous for browbeating another human being in such a heinous manner that it made the evening news, won an award. I wont watch movies that the actor is in. I wont support anything he is involved in. The guy is a bully and a jerk and I have no use for him and my son asked me what I would have done if I had been on the receiving end of that kind of rant. "Dental Work" . No job, nothing. Is worth taking that kind of abuse and I told my son that. I have my dignity, my pride and my ego and I would prefer all of them to remain intact rather than to lose them at the price of a few dollars and I know my son heard that message loud and clear when he stood up to his step-father that day.

My son came out and apologized to me for his behavior, and I asked him what the issue was between him and his friends,and he groaned in frustration," I was talking to some other girls and apparently on friend likes one of those girls and my girlfriend knows that one of those girls like me and she didn't like me talking to her and now they are both men so I am apparently NOT allowed to talk to other people!" I laughed at him because he seemed so frustrated at the High School drama and all the insanity of the teen minds when he has been through so many adult situations and is actually very mature compared to many of his friends. 'What the hell is wrong with people, they act so damn stupid always obsessed about partying and they think their world is ending if they cant go skiiing!" My son is a funny kid, he is getting more serious about school and getting in shape as well as practicing his guitar and while there are days when he thinks he has it way worse than most kids his age, he knows that he is actually doing pretty good. He has friends, (though they may drive him crazy), he is a healthy and good looking kid that has girls and a couple of boys(and the fact that he is okay with this still freaks me out)following him around and even home, hes talented and smart and adults like him and comment on the fact that he will stand up and do the right thing. He has his moments when he is still an irritable, surly, smelly, hairy, weird, teen, but for the most part he is turning into a hell of a young MAN that I am very proud of.

Dear Roger; The Story of My Life

Writing some of my adventures has had me thinking about my younger and wilder days, and I have even been wondering what became of my partner in crime. I haven't heard from him except for one last phone call when I was 18. Him and his mom had moved to Garland and he was in town with his mom because she was visiting some friends. He wanted to see me, but I had a boyfriend who was jealous, so I couldn't go see him, and after that rejection, he never called me again. I have missed Jimmy over the years, and Jimmy was his name, and I have wondered what he grew up to be and if he ever thinks of me. He was my best friend in those summers, and we did so many fun and crazy things, but it was all innocent fun. We were in a different time and place, and at a point and time where we weren't really aware of the interest that that we might have for each other later. I think we would have ended up dating,maybe together as a couple long term and I would have been spared the heart ache of the loss of the first boy I loved in such a violent manner, because Jimmy would have been that love and that boy would have just been a friend that died. I speculate on a lot of things, but I wish I knew where Jimmy had ended up, his last name is soo common that trying FB search just brings up so many possibilities that I give up in frustration. So I picture him as I last saw him, a little taller than me, with his dirty blonde curly hair, his green eyes and his nose that was a little bit pug, he had freckles across the bridge of it, and his front teeth had a slight gap. He had a scar on his elbows and knees from where he wrecked his dirt bike into a barb wire fence when the neighbors stupid dogs got into a fight in front of him and he turned to avoid them, and he always tanned up really golden like he had Indian in him.

Growing up in the country gave me a life that I wish my kids could have. I didnt have many fancy things, and I ran wild most of the time because my parents pretty much ignored me, but I had adventure and I did things that my kids will never get to experience. I had pear-apple wars with neighbor kids, I lived like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, I knew woods lore and I fished and hunted and built shelters and rode horses while other kids were going to lessons and having their fancy country club parties, and maybe I may have been an outcast when I was younger, but now those same people that rejected me when I was younger, are now reading my stories and loving them, wishing they could have had that. Living an uncommon life left its marks and scars, and I am still an outsider from so much of those who live around me, but there are those out there still managing to exist like I did.

My sons life is so similar to another's that it made both of us realize that what he had been through can be not only survived, it can be triumphed over and can make him a stronger person. We watched the movie,"This Boys Life" together the other night, and we were both struck at how much it reminded us of our lives, in fact if it wasn't made 2 years before my son was born, it would be like watching my sons life.He commented that he wondered if my ex learned his parenting skills from the movie. It was heartbreaking, but we looked up the author on the internet and found that he has done well and is still alive, so that was a relief.

My son knows that I dont allow him the luxury of claiming that coming from a tough background as an excuse to be a fuck up. My grandfather was a abused child. He was the oldest of 7 kids, beaten, starved and treated like a slave by an alcoholic father. He left home at 13 and worked his way from Iowa to Idaho where he worked as a ranch hand until he joined the military underage. He literally starved when he was a kid. He suffered, and he overcame it and achieved much in his life. He was a decorated WW2 veteran Navigator/Bombardier of B-17's and B-24s, Silver and Bronze stars, Pearl Harbor survivor, D-day, Berlin and Black Friday. He was a hero who went on to go to college and graduate and then teach. He never committed a crime, never was a drunk,or drug abuser. He was a good man. So bad backgrounds can be risen above and I remind my son of that on a daily basis. I have also known those that had everything handed to them on a silver platter and were worthless shits that I wouldn't cross the street to piss on if they were on fire. Money doest make class or dignity or morals and a man, so I tell my kids that they need to just work hard and remember who they are, do their best to be good people, and remember things that Honor, Integrity, Dignity , and Pride are things that a person has in them, and that they cannot be bought.

I hope that Jimmy grew up with those things. I like to think that he did. He was a good boy and in my memories he was all those and more, perhaps its best he remain there.