You are not here for YOU.

Leave the pimple alone.

Listen to Me.

Quit trying to understand Me.

I have a reason that you're not ready for yet.  A Purpose.

In sarcastic reply, When it's Time for you to be popped, you will be popped.

B-Cubed

The first few levels are super simple, but it definitely makes you use your What's Next reflex.  A great game for those who maybe have OCD, and alot of time, and not many responsibilities.

An admission. 

Back to the game.  I, being irresponsible, finished all levels..  Due to unmanaged, er.. everything.

But my son is educationally entertained, and has also finished all levels  . 

And it has some nice Alpha/Deltaish wave music in the background.

..when you honestly believe that certain parts of town should be Doused..  Sprayed.  With Prozac.  And Birth Control."

"Lol, that's a good one.  Where'd you get that from?"

"The North side."

oh.  Ouch.

" and it's funny because it's true.  And sad.  But, damn it's true.. "

"And when you think stupidity should be painful."

Lol, "Amen."

"And when you start thinking other peoples' pain and misery is funny.."

"..And you don't know holidays as anything but days when families get together to get drunk, beat eachother up, make eachother miserable, and go out and..."

You finally get the call..  Someone you know.  Someone in your family..

"You know you've been a 911 dispatcher too long when you'd rather commit suicide than get up and go to work."

 

"So, what are you going to do now?"  the camera-man asks Tiger as he puts the microphone in front of him, "Are you gonna go eat?  Go to the range?"  Tiger seems to sigh tightly.  "I'm gonna go eat, I'm pretty hungry, " he tightly replies.

"I mean where the hell do you go eat, when you're famous?"  You'd have to spend like GodIdon'tevenwanttothinkhowmuch, "You couldn't just go to Burger King drive-thru, you'd never get your frickin' food.."  Chris looks at me like I'm crazy.  Why would you go to Burger King?

"I'm just sayin'.  You think I'm a home-body now?"

Chris laughs, "Why don't they just tell 'em what they're really gonna be doing?  'I'm gonna go jack..  I mean..  I'm gonna go drop my kids off at the pool..'"

Lol..

"Well, I'd just stay at home..  Tell the maid to tell them I'm in rehab again."

"That's what you're doing isn't it..?"

He curls his lip, turns, looking at me behind him over his shoulder.

hUH?

"Well there's the 'whole Serve me... attitude."  He gives me a questioning look.  And I've interrupted golf.  And Tiger's only three behind..  We're not quite on the same plane yet.  So I continue, quoting him..  "Respect MY AuthoritI,'..?" ( Au-thor-it-eye),  "and the random appreciation of my qualities that I'd rather you not appreciate so much..  and you don't want my attention until I'm in the middle of something I ReAllY want to learn or get done.."  I'm trying to learn Mozart's "Turkish March", and I've got all but the last stanza of the right hand.  And I could totally do the left hand if that's the only part of the song I had to do, lol..  And I KNOW he's being so patient listening to me play each stanza over-and-over-and-over..  *sigh..  And I'm also aware that there are *5* year old's that can nail this song AT tempo (I'm at half), but there's feeling..  HeRe.  That needs a longer pause..  And these parts with the - whateverthehellit'scalled - the part where I have to stretch my fingers A.L.L. the way apart to get all the notes, and if you miss one note the next five are FUCKED. But I could twEAk it hErE.. And it's not so boring and, yeah..  part of me is a little proud.

Pride. Downfall.

"And all of a sudden the keyboard's unplugged." I continue..

He uncurls his eyebrows and his eyes narrow.

Yes, You.

I turn.  I can't look at him while I say it.  "You're supposed to represent Him as the Head of this household."  And I feel so small saying it.  He does try.  So hard.  And yes, he bugs.  Like he can't help himself.  "But damnit, I feel too OLD for this shit.  And every time I've finally gotten comfortable in my niche..."  Writing..  Reading..  Piano.. God, forget drawing.  It'd be time to let the muddy dogs in.    Oh no.  She's doing something.  She needs to be doing something else.  Something that benefits me...  Oy  Let's go do something!  Let's go shoot my gun...  ..You wanna go ride around in the golf-cart with me while I play golf for hours?..  In the hot sun, with our breezes of 50 mph..  Not so much.  "'Hey, I've got a Great Idea...,' you say,"  "And you shake your shoulders."  "'Rub my back..'"  And he grins and wiggles like he's ready.  Hop to it.  Another grin over the shoulder..  I grimace..  I wouldn't mind,  I really wouldn't, but every time?  And, God I hurt.  I would just LOVE to get a backrub.  No..  Not until I've HAD it.  I'm done.  Tired of the keyboard being unplugged.  The endless barrage of questions and indirect accusations.  "Why don't you care about your garden anymore..?"  "Why don't you take care of the house?"  "Why don't you ever get up when I call you in the mornings?  I call you like nineteen times."  He starts EVERY conversation like we're already in the middle of an argument.  If it's not the argument approach, then there's the guilt trip approach..  

He flicks his lighter and follows my foot with his lighter..

"'And I shall SMITE you if you speak against Me as SUch'"

God, I don't want to rehash this all.  I don't want to be like this.  I know we're supposed to be patient, tolerant, forgiving..

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, this was also a conversation with God at the same time..

It's been an unapproached-but-ongoing argument (And likely inappropriate)  We've been having, and He doesn't care for it, and We're working that out.."

but anyhow..

He turns his back to me, unsure whether he should be disgusted, but that was alot of words..  And it was low.  And I'm not quite sure what went through his head. 

Either of Them.

"So, I guess we're not going to make it to Bealls today?"

Not so much.

"Just sayin.."

*sigh..

And he still loves me.  And he bears me as his burden.  And I wish he wouldn't.  I wish he'd quit treating me like I'm sixteen.  It's so not necessary.  And makes me WanT to act sixteen.  And then it's exciting.  But God, I'm not sixteen anymore..  In case one of You hasn't noticed..

I don't know.

I don't.

And I don't assume to..

I'm just tired.

I ask Dakota, as he sits beside me on the bench outside the front door.

The wind is calm.  A sweater isn't necessary, but doesn't feel uncomfortable..

He looks straight at me.  My mind stutters at his steady gaze,  "No, " he replies.  Stutter again.

"You love me so much that I can't know how much you love me, "

* ..awe

"You are so perceptive.  I just can't believe the grown-up things you say sometimes.."

breathe..  Sometimes I just CAN'T believe how incredibly blessed I am..

To think.. To worry..  To Over-Analyze..

To get lost

In my music..

Norah Jones.. Adele..  Eminem (Feat. Nate Dogg)..  Tori Amos.  Lady Gaga (I KNOW..  and I'm obsessively opposed to the typical - to quote *Her Divaness*)..  Rob Zombie (Living Dead Girl).. ..and Beth Hart..

Oh Beth..

She KNOWS me..

"Monkey Back" - Beth Hart - That's where I AM right now.

And Lady Gaga "Teeth"..

GRAAAHHHHH!!!***

I just want to - *!*GRROWWWLLLL.!!!!*!*

Yeah I could love you with my hands tied.

Totally.

Lol..

I know I need to reel it in.

But - *exhale* - I just feel so PENT UP!

But I'm writing.

I mean it's totally self absorbed.

And absolutely random.

But there it is.

Hope it's, at the very least.  Entertaining.

OH!! 

And Beth..  That's her in my background there..

And it's me.

She's me.

She lost.

She picked it up.

And dropped it again.

A time or two..

..

There are so many good things.

And then there's those..  I'mgonnapullmyFRICKINhairout!!! ..moments.

..the ones that I look back on and think

~ you know..  That really wasn't that bad..

I mean if that's the worst I have to complain about..

He's remodeling my kitchen this weekend.

He's going to help me do ALL of our laundry tonite.

Right at this VERY moment he is coaching his crazybipolaranxietypronedramaqueenshitstartinggossipingpitypartythrower aunt through a nervous breakdown. 

And he just offered to go down there to sit with her for the night.

And she's still throwing a pity party.

I know all about pity parties.

I am The Diva of pity parties.

I have to smack myself around sometimes.

Especially when it comes to Chris.

I'm such a shit to him.

God.

Protect my dear husband from me.

I thank You humbly that my husband has the patience for crazybipolaranxietypronedramaqueenshitstartinggossipingpitypartythrower's like me.

God, I love my husband.  I hope You know that.

I know You know that.

But that was pretty cute.

Yeah?

No?

Fine.

~

"Read it louder - Like you did when you wrote it.. Like you did when you believed it."

THE GUNFIRE AROUND us makes it hard to hear.  But the human voice is different from other sounds.  it can be heard..

"be heard over noises that bury everything else..  Even.. even."

Even when it's not shouting.

"..shouting.  Even when.."

Even when it's just a whisper.

"..Whisper..."

Even the lowest whisper can be heard over armies.

"When.  WHEN?"

..When it's telling the Truth.

~The Interpreter

...And I broke down and cleaned house this weekend.  REALLY for real this time.  Lol.

I want to get back to my creativity, but there is so much frickin' drama.  Mostly I just don't have time, and there are ALWAYS distractions.  ALWAYS.  And the added drama - I mean, I know it's selfish, but I don't WANT a thousand requests to draw every person's family out of the goodwill that sits trembling against the wall at the back of my heart.  I'm not superwoman.  And I want to draw what I want to draw, or it just doesn't feel like me.  It's so selfish.  I KNOW. It doesn't feel like a relaxing vicarious getaway - it feels like a job.  J.O.B.

*ugh..

I know it's selfish.  I've hurt so many people - they just want me to draw their kids - I know it's a fabulous memento to show off to family and friends.  But I don't want to just be GOOD.  The emotions aren't in those crammed-into-our-best-dresses and okay-everybody-say-"CHEESE"..  "Mommy, Peter won't stop poking me!"  Pictures.  You get the smiles that are painted on while the parents clench their child(ren) into place and threaten them with Christmas if they don't SMILE for the picture.   Yeah, I know - surely one can tell I've been there, lol.

I want the scene where the boy is digging for boogers, while his sister''s face melts in disgust.  With Mom in the background - her head to her hand, and Daddy oblivious to all, on the recliner..

I want the one with my mother-in-law, doing her crazy jig up the stairs with a beer in one hand.  Which I can't upload cause IE9 SUCKS, so now I've gotta figure out how to switch back to IE8.  For pity's sake.

*sigh..

Right now I'm into trees.  Very symbolic for me..  I talked my husband into buying a tree pendant necklace for me for Valentine's Day.  "A Tree" was the answer I got when I asked God what I should draw next that would honor Him, and get myself back to the person He created.

I've been so inwardly focused lately.  Almost obsesively.  My house was consuming me, and we just never got it together to do ANYTHING about it, until I just put my foot down and threatened a good fit if the house didn't get CLEAN by the end of the weekend..  And it's relatively clean now - except for the mountains of laundry..  ugh again.

And now that order has been relatively restored I can (hopefully) get back into my art phase..  Which probably won't last long because I can't zone in on the pictures with the constant distractions and demands.  And then requests.. .

Focus.

That's what I need.

To overide the distractions and demands and just Focus.

I'm all up for suggestions on that one.  In the meantime, though, my dear dear Momma sent me a pocket drawing pad so I can piddle around until I become inspired.  Or grow a spine.  Or quit making excuses.

You know - whatever.

~