Dear Roger: Plague Monkeys

Ugh...I want to be celebrating, in fact, I want to be hooting and hollering and raising a fuss all over the place, but I simply do not have the energy and if I tried it, my head would explode from all the coughing. Yeah, the monkeys have struck again and I have kiddie-borne crud in the form of a cold. The kids always seem to snap out of it within 24 hours or so, hardly even knocked off their desire to eat all the food in the house, but me? Feh! Like most adults, I am drug to deaths door and left laying there like a half eaten mouse the cat played with and didn't want. I feel like the half of the mouse that got sicked up on the rug beside the bed and then stepped on.
But I am still happy, though a bit freaked out, because I did something soo completely irresponsible and crazy that I still cant believe I did it. The little band we love so much is starting up a bit of a tour, and its coming in fits and bursts, with seeming no real rhyme or reason. A good friend of mine sent me a message telling me that she saw they were going to be in Las Vegas shortly after my birthday and I said out loud to myself that I really wished I could go and see them because God only  knew if they were going to make it to Portland.
My eldest son was sitting next to me on the couch and he said,"Go, you should go because you cant go to your High school reunion, you haven't gotten anything for your birthday in forever, and you haven't had a vacation in well, ever, soo...GO" I gave him all the mom, responsible reasons why I shouldn't, and he responded by grabbing my computer and threatening to book the trip himself. He managed to convince me it was a good idea, and after crunching numbers, robbing of Peter and telling Paul to go starve, I booked it and I am going! My first trip for purely fun in forever. Seriously. I am freaking out just a little. I never do anything like this anymore. My wanderlust had been leashed by responsibility and doing the right thing by my kids because I couldn't count on my ex to ever do his part, and it has aged me soo damn much. I look in the mirror some days and I don't recognize myself, Im gaunt and hollow-eyed, and my son is right, I do look tired all the way down to my soul, so maybe this will be just what I need to help me find that spark I used to have.
I have done a few things lately to try and rekindle my spark, including the haircut and color, and when I said I was going to cut the ties that bound me to the one thing that had been a constant source of passion and pain for so long, I did actually do it. Its been hard as hell to not undo it. Yahoo even sent me an email inviting me to undo it, told me I could have it all back, like it never happened, and I sat here staring at that link for a long time.
I miss him so much.
Just learning to check my email without anticipating seeing one from him is hard. I always hold out hope that I would have been the choice, even though I knew in my heart I never would be. I was not the thing that glittered the brightest. I get up each morning telling myself I made the right choice and I drink my coffee, put my boots on, go out the door to work, putting my earbuds in my ears to listen to music that almost sounds like something I should have written, and it reminds me that I made the right choice.
There is another concert in a month or so and Im kinda thinking about trying for it, if I can get over being infected by the kids and their germs, and the feeling that I dont deserve a moment of happiness.

Dear Roger: Step Into The Bold

So I went and got a haircut yesterday. It was a hotly debated prospect before I left the house, with my eldest son staunchly against me making any dramatic changes he even tried to reason with me using the,"You will send off the wrong message", argument, but considering that having long,blonde hair that hung to the middle of my back still got me hit on by women more than men, I do not think hair was the issue.
I had let it grow for the last almost two years without doing anything to it, and honestly, I felt it was time to mark the change. Lots of transitions have gone on this month, some of them good, some of them hard to take, but transitions they are and they have had an impact on me and my family, so I felt the need to mark it. When I lose someone I love, usually in death, I shave my head. Its my tradition. I think that is what had my son worried, but nobody had died, they had mearly gone away from me by my choice, so I didn't feel the need to mark his loss as a death, it was just a relocation. I had half my hair cut off. Then, I had purplish streaks put through it. It was the first time I have ever had dye professionally applied to my hair and it was pretty interesting. I wasn't sure how I felt about the change as I left the shop, and since it was raining, I put my hood up for the walk home, but the streaks of color in the front plainly showed and that made me happy. I guess my pleasure and the change showed in my general demeanor because I got smiled at by a man as I walked past him on the sidewalk. That was a different feeling as well! I usually pass by people, unobserved and unacknowledged, maybe my generally misanthropic attitude reflecting out at people and warning them away, but its more difficult to maintain that when you have taken a bold step into the new and different.
It was freeing and I found myself smiling and singing along a little more than usual as I was walking home. I do tend to sing along with my music, even when I am not cognizant of it. My kids tell me that if I am listening to it when I am writing with my earbuds in, I am quite often singing along, especially to some of the sadder songs, and I got busted by one of the residents where I live singing along with a rather bawdy song that was off a video I have in my phone. I enjoy that video more than a little and it tends to warm up cold, dreary days when I am out dealing with the less than pleasant aspects of my job, so I guess I know it a little better than I should. I don't get to listen to it at home because, the SBL 2010 version of 'Strangers" that Ben Grauper sang is for sure not child friendly, though it is dirty old woman friendly, so I was walking along, in the rain and the muck, doing my job, trying not to freeze, singing along and feeling the music a little when I got a tap on my shoulder.
People who know me, know not to approach me from behind and tap on my shoulder, they know that is dangerous, especially if I have a tool in my hand or I am distracted. So I knew right away this person did not know me at all.
I did not hurt them. I dont think I even really scared them, because they were smiling when I finally managed to get my ear buds out and get my burning in embarrassment face to look them in the eyes and pay attention to what they were saying.
He was asking me about how my investigation into something involving complex goings on was proceeding, and while I toed the dirt with my boot and tried to pretend he didn't just hear me singing,"Lets get fucked up and fuck each other" I told him that I had a likely suspect and that I had relayed the information on to my boss. He grinned at me and patted my shoulder, (again, I did not hurt him), and told me he had full faith and confidence I would get it handled. Every time he sees me now he smiles at me and waves, and well...I wave back and smile, though I make sure that song only comes up to play where no one can sneak up on me.
Spring is trying to come out up here, and I really hope it succeeds pretty soon. Spencer seems to sense it. He has been really rambunctious lately and the other day he rammed into me and knocked me flat on my ass. It was not a good thing because he is a big dog and I am a small person. Hes up to 80lbs and im down to 103, and when 80lbs hits me full on in the gut, the 80lbs won. It jacked up my back pretty good, leaving me in the worst pain I have been in since I left Arizona. I spent the rest of the evening laying flat on my back on the living room floor watching movies on my computer with a heat compress on my back hoping that Aleve would be enough.
I finally watched a movie that, while I had supported it with my donation and trying to get people to go see it and what not with tweeting and Facebook and sending its trailer to people I knew who ran Downs support groups and such, I had never had the nerve to watch it on my own due to the fact I had been warned it had some pretty realistic domestic violence in it and as the mom of a kid with Downs...well...I just had never seen a person with Downs treated as a human being before by any kind of movie. I was lucky enough to be able to see the "Girlfriend Movie" finally and that changed. I was floored. I watched the entire movie with only one brief breather due to a scene getting to be too much for me,(young Mr. Rathbone played the abusive bastard a little too convincingly for comfort and it left me very conflicted because he has actually been a source of comfort in my own dark times), but after a pause and collection of nerve, I resumed watching it and was just amazed that every single person involved with that film has not had their name held up and the benchmark for what it takes to make a quality movie. In an era of cookie cutter remakes and schlock that I would not spend a dollar to go see, I feel bad that I only paid the wonderful young man less than $5.00 for the privilege to see this film, I would have paid much more and I will be buying the DVD for myself.
I will be doing as much as I can to support them in the future, because while I am past the point of being able to chase my long dead dreams, it makes me happy to see that there are people who are persevering and succeeding and making it and they deserve all the help they can get, especially when they make gems like "Girlfriend Movie".
My writing muse has been working me pretty hard lately and my latest story has really met with some acclaim! My son nags at me to actually "Do something" with my writing, like a screenplay or send it to a publisher, but I need an editor who doesn't piss me right the hell off, and considering how temperamental I am, that is probably going to be impossible to find. My young gay neighbor and I have a great rapport, but he blushes so much when we are talking that I am afraid trying to edit the sex scenes or anything like that would turn into a giggle fest, which is sad because I actually work better with men and I know he writes some of the same stuff. Maybe I will just ask him next time his dog jumps into my arms.

Dear Roger: The Monkey Life

Two years ago I was sitting in Arizona waiting to die. My ex was getting released from prison, and I was fully expecting him to finish what he had started before a friend of mine had him swooped up by the cops before it could really get ugly on the ole home front, and I found the nerve and the anger to testify against him and put him in prison for almost 2 years and gave him a good reason to want to kill me.
The time after all that fracas had gone down was filled with a grim struggle for survival where I ended up getting sick with things like H1N1, facing record snowfall, and nearly starving to death as I managed to keep my kids housed and fed up to that point as I sat there on the night of March 25th writing my blog.
I remember I wasn't really scared, I was angry. I had made it. We had survived on our own and I had held onto the house, but it had come at at steep cost. I was ragged and worn and weary as hell and past the point of being able to resist him. He was going to win and be able to wear me back down because I was weak.
If we had stayed in Flagstaff, one or both of us would be dead by now.
Things happen for a reason, and daughter wanting to see that concert seems like a trite reason to pack up and haul ass nearly a 1000 miles away, but that was just the symbolic reason for us going. It was our salvation and that concert was the beginning of so damn many wonderful things for us, but its been hard as hell.
Two years without a vehicle. Our first few weeks in this apartment we went hungry. Seriously, we didn't have money for food or anything. I skipped meals so my kids would have enough and we still went hungry. We all got thin before I finally found a job that helped us to catch up a little.
We had nothing but what had fit in those 7 bags we brought with us, so we slept on the floor until we managed to find furniture at yard sales. Nothing in our house is brand new to this day, and I kind of take pride in that because while it may be used, its still nice and I am the ultimate recycler, teaching my kids the value of things.
Its been lonely for me. I left the one man in Arizona that I loved and hoped to someday have something with, but just a short while ago, I finally realized that I had lived so many years as a secret, never able to share my feelings for him with the rest of the world, never able to be honest about things, that it was eating me up. So I listened to a lot of sad music, heard some of the same hurt in others,(ironically from the same band), and realized that I wasn't alone, and once again I found the strength to make the right move and I moved forward by letting go. It hasn't been easy but every step forward every breath in and out is progress.
I have second guessed myself a lot, and often considered that maybe I should have kept trying to fix things in Arizona, but then my ex showed up here in Portland. It was bad. Financially, we are still recovering and he had no shame about the damage he did. He likes to call from down in L.A. and gloat about how nice the weather is down there and how cool his life is as a single person down there, because he went there to mooch off his aunt when he decided Portland was,"Too hard". He knows that before I had kids, it had been my dream to live out there as a writer, but now I cant even afford to go down there to attend a concert. I figure karma will get him in the end. I have my pride. I support my kids and make sure they have what they need and they know it. I dont keep the secrets from them anymore. They figured it out pretty quick when they realized he wasn't working and I had to go get the other two boys from Arizona. They don't believe his stories about how he is going to have it all together pretty soon. They know his version of "pretty soon" hasn't happened in over 10 years.
Its been a couple of years of big changes and realizations, some good, some sad. The boys that brought us to the sunshine are on the outs and that makes me more than a little sad for them because so much good came from those beautiful days in the sun, and I can only hope that eventually they find the peace and happiness that they so richly deserve.
I dont know what this next year will bring for me and my family, but we are still alive and still moving forward, and all I know is that if not for a bunch of monkeys, I dont know if that would be able to be said, so you dont get a much stranger reason for life than that.

Dear Roger: Every Time I See Your Face

I have you back. Now, every day when I log on to my computer, or walk into my living room, I can see you and it has done wonders for me. I had never expected to have that again. I had begged for pictures of you many times from my parents. Even offering to pay for copies to be made of a particular painting that had been done of you by one of your many girlfriends, the "Coca-Cola Cowboy" painting that is lost to us forever in some gallery or private collection, but the one photograph of it that my grandmother had is in my mothers possession and she has it in a box,'Somewhere" and my repeated requests for a copy went ignored, so I had despaired ever even seeing your face again.
Many of my personal pictures were lost when my ex took over the house, and when Stevie drowned my laptop a few years ago. I have tried to replace them, but when family holds the originals and wont share, it becomes impossible, but the other night, I was sitting on the couch, trying to write and in a particularly morose mood, as it had been a stressful week, fraught with more financial difficulty, and me finally reaching the decision to move on from a relationship that was going to do nothing that hurt me. I was feeling particularly lost and alone, with no one to talk to, when I got a text alert on my Iphone.
Hardly anyone ever texts me. Ever. I don't have that many friend contacts due to my misanthropy, and my social life is pretty limited, so I figured it was just an alert to tell me that my son was about to go over on data or that I was late on some bill, but when I reached over and hit the unlock screen, you were there.
I cant really describe the feeling that went through me, but it took my breath away and brought instant tears of joy. I guess it must be like what people who are reunited with a lost loved on feel. The pictures just kept coming from the daughter of your heart, and the niece of mine. She sent me half a dozen or so of you from when you met her mother to just shortly before you left us and by they time they stopped I was a sobbing mess.
Chance came out to see what was going on and he saved them all for me and printed them so that I could put them up on the wall, the first pictures I have had of family in years on my wall. He was stunned at how much we look alike, and then surprised at how much the pictures impacted me. Imagine years and years of not seeing your family, of thinking that the people who meant the world to you were lost forever and that you would never see their faces again? That is what I have lived with, the frustration of knowing that my parents have these pictures and just didn't care enough for me to share them, even though I begged over and over, and then knowing that they were lost to me, possibly forever. I'm a visual person, a writer who while capable of describing things and feelings and events, needs to see and be reminded of those who gave me the ability.
My children now know your face, and they ask questions and have heard more stories that seem to have been sparked,as they often are with me, by seeing an image that was slowly slipping from my memory even though I struggled mightily to keep it there. They know you now. They will hopefully be able to share you with their children and through them, you will live on, that is how you never truly die.
Someday I hope to get pictures of grandpa and grandma back, maybe she has some or maybe my sister will be able to smuggle some out to me like she always says she plans to do,I hope, but having you back...its like peace has found part of my heart, the peace you were always able to bring to the turmoil that was me.

Dear Roger:The Secrets That You Keep

Living a secret eats you slowly like a parasite.Tiny,agonizing bites that devour who you are and what you might have been, and what you might have been capable of, bit by bit, day by day. Especially secrets that involve love, those are the worst and most virulent of the secrets to keep because they are the most consuming of the spirit.
When you are in love with someone, you want to shout it from the rooftops and roll in it like its the greenest grass, wearing it on your skin for everyone to see. You feel ten foot tall and bullet-proof, all powerful and enraptured in the person you have found that sets you alight, but...if there is a reason you cant share the fact you love this person, then life becomes a nightmare because the secret takes hold.
No matter what the reason; family, career, wrong place, wrong time, ethnic differences, age differences, there are a myriad of reasons that people find themselves strangling that part of themselves that should be allowed to flourish and grow and shine like the sun and after a while, it begins to hurt. That what was once bright and flourishing and beautiful, becomes painful and begins to question why it has to be kept in the dark and hidden, especially when it seems that its not really that big of a secret to the rest of the world around it, and love can turn to anger and hurt and in the struggle to break free from the darkness of the prison that is the secret, words and things can be said and done that hurt and cause harm and create pain where once there was only love.
But true love wont allow that to win. True love does the right thing, even when its painful and it ages it beyond its years and darkens what was a bright an beautiful thing. True love protects the one it loves and calls back all the pain and hurt and anger and it reels it in, dampens it down and it would never allow the darkness to harm that which it really, truly loves.
Decades may be spent in quiet contemplation of what might have been, waiting for the,"good thing to come in time", only to get a devastating phone call or letter, telling you that your time will never be because they could not take that risk, that bold step into the world and put aside money or career or family and be who they are and could be, and it hurts, its devastating beyond all reason because its a death of sorts. A death of hopes and dreams and of what might have been. But you take in a breath, and another, and then you pick yourself up and move forward and you learn to walk again, and eventually you learn to feel again, though it might never be the same. The colors not as bright, the music not as clear, the touch not as satisfying, but you just do because you owe it to yourself to never give up.
Recovery is a slow process, like healing from an addiction to the worst kind of drug, and often the best method is cold turkey, but when the one you love is wound around your heart and inn your life so intimately, for such a long time it can take years to unwind the strings that bind them to you, and cutting each one causes bleeding that you feel like you will never recover from.
Yesterday I deleted and wiped the archives of an email account I've had for 13 years, I don't think the bleeding will ever stop.

Dear Roger:Not So Subtle

Nobody wants to be the kids of a divorce, hell! Nobody wants to be the kids stuck in a bad marriage, all the fighting and sniping and what people think a subtle little snipes at each other escalate the tension levels to the point that nobody wants to be around. The stress gets so thick that you can taste it and sometimes someone snaps and either things get broken or someone can end up pinned to a dresser with a straight razor slicing a thin little line into their throat. Its not a fun place to be, especially if there are kids sitting there as helpless bystanders who can do nothing to stop it.
There are lots of relationships that are like marriages, long time friendships, love relationships that might have been marriages in another world,partnerships, and so on that sometime go bad for one reason or another and when they disentergrate,its often pretty brutal to see and sad for those caught in the middle or even on the outer edges. Sometimes lines are drawn and factions formed, I deal with that on a pretty regular basis from my son, Stubby. He thinks his father is the one who has been wronged in the whole situation with our family.
I've tried to explain to him that people aren't allowed to hurt their supposed loved ones, that they aren't supposed to spend the families money on drugs and that fathers are supposed to help support their children and spend time with them and not just yell at them to be quiet. After nearly 6 months of gently trying to get him to see my side, showing him that I wasn't the bad guy, that I really do love him and that I will support him and do the right thing for him even if hes angry at me all the time and that I am not the bad guy in the situation, I gave up trying to win him over and I just let him be angry with me. It was like living with a timebomb in the house, a little black cloud of hate that seemed determined to evoke his fathers presence for me on a daily basis until my eldest son stepped in. Stubby had been pretty much brain washed in the time my ex had him. He had been told I was up here partying and running wild and that I didn't want him. My eldest son has been clearing up that misconception and pointing out the things that I had refused to do, like the fact the ex has never paid child support and that he always thinks of himself first and the kids last. My eldest is pretty relentless about it too. The minute Stub starts in on me about something, the eldest says,"Lets call your father and see if he will help buy you that, after all, he hasn't spent a DIME on you since the 20 he spent on your birthday in January. Mom spent a whole bunch of extra on you for your juice and stuff you wanted, but you are going to be hateful to her? I don't think so." It actually seems to be working to some extent. I have also stopped being the one to force the ex to be a decent parent. If he doesn't call, I don't call and tell him to call his kids. I am letting them see just how long he will go without it. It seems petty, but he is a 54 year old man who should not have to be told to call his kids, just like he should not have to be told to support them.
Fighting and bickering gets old, and I refuse to get in the middle of it. My kids excel at it and when you have 4 kids that are all above average intelligence,(even for Downs Syndrome), they pick the damndest things to fight over and often I have learned to tune it out because they know if I am forced to get involved, the sanctions are often grim. I prefer to remain the neutral party because as a former cop and someone who has studied the things I have studied, the dynamics of personality at play often override whatever real or imagined hurt took place. Perception is reality for whomever is involved in the altercation and if they think they got their feelings hurt, then by God their feelings got hurt and nothing I can do to the perpetrator is going to make it better. Stickys version of rough justice is often more effective. If someone hurts his feelings, he often reacts right away, smacks the offender upside the head and then five minutes later they kiss, make up and are back playing Angry Birds. Life needs to be more like that for adults, and so called adults because there is often a hell of a lot more on the line and lot less time to make things right.
I guess looking at things from the perspective of someone who has more people they love who have died, such as you Rog, I tend to realize that its not worth it to be angry or to take the risk that the last things I may have said to someone I once loved, were words of anger. I'm not angry at my parents anymore and I have made a half-assed peace with them. I've made a half-assed peace with pretty much everyone, including my ex who I don't really hate, I just find him kind of sad and pathetic. My kids? They damn well know I love them to death. Hugs and the words are said every single day. I told the man I have loved as a friend and who I had hoped to someday have more with, how I felt, and though it will never do me any good, it was a clearing of the slate. I sent him a song, said this is how I feel, I love you, goodbye. I deleted my contacts from him and my gift to myself for this next year is to stop. To finally say,"Its never going to happen." The hardest thing I have ever done and it totally broke me, but I bear him no ill will, he was what he was and I knew that from the get go, my last gesture to him, is to protect him and that is what you should do for those you love.
I would give years off my own life to have a few moments to have been able to tell you and grandpa how much I loved you, or my cousin what he meant to me and how he influenced me as a human being. I will never have that. I would give years to have been able to once have told that boy,"I really like you and I think you are cute." but I never had that, or that young firefighter that I flunked on his EMT test? I wish to God I had a few more minutes to teach him the skills he needed to pass that section of the test so I wouldn't have had to fail him and he wouldn't have had to go to Phoenix and he wouldn't have rolled his truck and died. Soo many regrets that are born of lost opportunities to make things right, to fix what is broken and jagged and what will leave a scar when it cuts into you.

Dear Roger: Im Not A Bitch,Ive Just Been In A Really Bad Mood

Seriously, I have been in a mood the past week or so, or in some peoples opinions, maybe for the last 40 years, and I really don't know why other than maybe I am tired of winter, tired of trying to make a nickle stretch into a dollar, tired of trying to cajole my 16 year old son into doing the work he knows he has to do in order to advance in school, tired of dealing with a 10 y/o son that no matter what I do tells me he hates me and that his father is the best thing ever, tired of just standing in quicksand and being up to my ass in alligators. My other writing has reflected it pretty strongly, I beat the hell out of one of my characters again, and honestly,he is one of my favorite whipping boys as of late for some reason, (I'm sure a psychiatrist would have a blast with that one), but I alienated one of my readers and they told me they were out because they couldn't take all the abuse of that character. meh... I've read some of their stuff and well, I don't think they have much room to judge, but whatever. I'm not going to let it bother me too much, better I beat up on a fictional character than a real person. I'm annoyed with my dog, who actually is a really good dog that deserves much better than he gets around here. Yeah, hes gotten really great medical care and all that, he gets good food and all the things a dog should get from a responsible owner, except for enough attention. I am so damn busy herding kids to school, through online lessons, keeping the house clean, working, and trying to catch a shower from time to time as well as manage the bills and other business, I barely have time to write or keep the few threads of my sanity intact. I have come to hate my ex more than a little. When he deigns to call the children, he never fails to take some time to take a backhanded swipe at me for something or another, and this last time, when he called after a week and a half of silence, it was to comment that he had seen me on the show,"Portlandia". I had gotten to be an extra for a skit called,"The Canoe Dance" and while it was fun and I would gladly do it again, it was not a great hair day for me. It had been misting earlier in the morning and my hair looked flat, so of course, the ex's comment was 'Wow, you really looked like shit, your hair looked terrible." He then went on to comment that the reason my 10 y/o was always angry with me was because I didn't know how to parent boys and that I didn't do enough for him. Never mind the fact that if I maybe had more resources, I could do more for him and that our latest battles had all hinged around the fact that my son was bored and frustrated with always being told we either couldn't afford something or couldn't go somewhere because we don't have a car. The ex whined that he wasn't in the daughters birthday video and he said,"You know, that's messed up. Why isn't there a picture of me in it?" Well, lets see...I had begged him to bring me or send me the kids memory boxes with all their stuff that he wouldn't let me have when I initially left AZ, but he claimed he didn't have the money or the room so he put them in storage, so all I have are the things I managed to smuggle out of the house when I went down to get the boys, which sadly doesn't include too many pictures because I couldn't find them in the tweekers nest he had turned the house into. The next reason is, why should he be in her birthday video? He hasn't been there for her for her last 5 birthdays and he did nothing for her for this one except for a call the day before, hes always just given her a half-assed apology for being a shitty father. It really pissed me off that he thought he should be represented on her special day when he hasn't been there for her, and I mentioned it to her that he was offended he wasn't in it, her reaction was the same as mine, "Why should he be in it? He hasn't been here!" She snorted and flounced off to go work on learning yet another song on her piano that he thought was too much of a gift to get her for Christmas.
I guess maybe bashing on my fictional character is my way of bashing on all the men that have pissed me off lately. It should put me in a better mood to get the frustration out of my system, but it doesn't. I think I need to put that story on hiatus and write something else for awhile until I can resolve my general state of annoyance with the male species.
My oldest son sparked an odd conversation with me the other day, I was in the kitchen cooking dinner and for some reason we started talking about why I am an ardent supporter of the Anti-bullying campaign and the Trevor project as well as gay rights. I explained to him about growing up in the era of Ryan White and seeing all the harm that was done to a dying child due to ignorance, and my own experiences with bullying and hate because of what people perceived,when you work in certain fields and dress in less than feminine ways and hang out with men most of the time, people assume things and I have lived a vast amount of my life with people assuming I was a Lesbian, including to some extent, my own family. I have experienced, first hand, hate and the kind of things that most people have no clue about and its horrible. I wanted my children to never, ever inflict that kind of pain on anyone no matter what they look or act like, and I seem to have managed to do that with at least a couple of them. My eldest son really gets it, but his comes from his religious beliefs, he may be a frustrating knucklehead in a lot of ways, but to hear my son say,"When you are a Christian, you are supposed to love EVERYONE, not just pick and choose. I have read the Bible and I know what it says and it says nothing about picking and choosing who you love and who to bring to God.You don't win people over by telling them they are evil, you win them over with love and compassion and understanding, everybody needs love." Damn, my boy maybe should be a preacher because he really would be a good one, he not only says this stuff from his mouth, he believes it from his heart and he was telling me about seeing a picture of a baby on a friends Facebook page, and then he told me that the baby had been a miscarriage because the mother had been very sick and it made his heart hurt to see it, and while he hated the thought of abortion, he understood why they were needed in some cases and that all the pending legislation made him scared for his sisters lives under such horrible control. It was a deep conversation for him and me to have and it even went on to include talk of a subject that he rarely broaches with me, Sex and sexually transmitted diseases. I was flabbergasted that he was asking questions, but I answered them directly and honestly and gave him the most honest and up to date information available, all the while hoping like hell he was sticking to his pledge to wait until he was married. Hes told me that his friends know almost nothing about the diseases and the risks out there to their health as well as what to be aware of, and that they ask him because they know I actually talk to my kids about such things in a very open and candid manner, even about drugs and alcohol and the risks as well as the true effects of them. I don't know why more parents don't talk to their kids in an open and honest manner, with the internet being the way it is, they can just go on one of a million websites and get the wrong information or information that is too clinical or written by people trying too hard to relate to kids. More parents need to do what I did, just sit down and listen and answer honestly, it has an amazing effect on the kid and it just may save their life.
Im hoping Spring will show up around here pretty soon and improve my general mood, and that maybe the pace of my life will slow down just a little bit. I was ecstatically happy to see Ridley Scott has made another Sci-Fi movie called "Prometheus" that looks every bit as fantastic as Blade Runner. That really brought you to my mind a lot last night and DAMN! I wish you were here to go see it with me, because you introducing me to the brilliance that was Blade Runner sure was a game changer to me. I miss you soo damn much.