Brrrrrrrrrrrr ...

Okay, 43 degrees this morning. Herbst is here. Herbst being the German word for Autumn. I wrote a poem about Fall once and my host father translated it for me. I’ll have to post it. I also wrote a poem in German, not translated. I actually thought it up and wrote it in German. Then I translated it to English, which was much more difficult than I thought it would be, even though I knew exactly what I meant to say. I can’t remember the name of it now, but it’s the one with the German title. I’ll post them over the weekend. Have you guys checked out Live Science? I’m such a science freak. This is as good as online Trivial Pursuit or solitaire to keep me happy and enthralled. My favorites were the Top Ten Missing Links and Vestigial Organs. The stuff about King Tut was pretty fascinating too, even if he died (possibly) of a systemic infection instead of poisoning, not to mention that whole section on dreaming, which is how I found it to start with. If you like science, head over there. Give yourself a few hours though. And don’t forget the Bog People... fascinating. What the hell is this? Short Attention Span Friday? Nate bombed his mid-terms. I mean bombed with a capital BOMB! Naturally, this was my fault since I hadn’t made sure Nate was bringing his homework home. This is what his dad told me. Oh yeah, his dad picks him up from school. But its my fault he didn’t take the time to open the damn backpack, check Nate’s assignment book, first to make sure it was filled out, and second to make sure the shit listed was actually in the bag. That’s my fault. I AM ALL POWERFUL AND KNOWING. I AM THE GREAT OZZETTE. I CAN REACH MY HAND ACROSS INFINITE SPACE AND TIME. I CAN SEE THROUGH BACKPACKS FROM 15 MILES You get my drift. WTF ever. I talked to the teacher two weeks ago and warned her about Nate "forgetting" (*ahem* AVOIDING) taking work home. I talked to his dad. But, no one listens to me. Nate... oy, my Nate. I tell yas, that young ‘en... he’s catching on right quick. He got one of those flexible rubber band type bracelets (like the Armstrong bracelets) from the school for participating in the fund raiser. Its says Dream, Believe, Achieve on it. Cool. Yesterday, he was holding the ends of it, and then pushing it together, like a mouth. He said, "That’s what Daddy does about you all the time." "What’s that dude?" "Run his mouth." "About me or to me?" "About you. He said he was going to take me away from you." "Is that so?" "Yeah, we were at the farm and he said he was going to take me away from you." "How did that make you feel?" "It made me cry, but inside, I was thinking, ‘Oh no you won’t!’ He said he had some pictures of our house but he wouldn’t show them to me. I think he’s lying." "Don’t underestimate people Nate, not even your dad." "I still think he’s lying." "Well, I know you love your dad very much Nate, right...?" *Silence* "You love your dad very much right?" *Silence - hard cold stare* "Well, dude, we’ll just keep our ducks in their rows and we’ll be fine." "K." I guess that goes to show, if you give people enough rope, they’ll hang themselves. There’s a little paragraph in the parenting agreement which states neither parent shall interfere or undermine the love and affection between the absent parent and the child or children. It should come with a disclaimer that states Please be advised your children have a brain and will use it. At some point, they will wise up and understand who the asshole is. Please make sure its not you. Oy, Nate again. This morning I went into his room to sign his assignment book and found his Reading paper, with the last one unfinished. I groused about it and I told Nate that a job worth doing was worth doing right. His response, "Don’t guess it was worth doing." I can’t imagine where he gets that smart mouth. As T-Bird would say.... "He is so YOURS!" Me? *Innocent look* Hmph. Happy Friday.

Haunted WV

One of the most endearing things about West Viriginia is the abundance of ghost stories and eerie happenings, past and present. Let me take you to - Point Pleasant Point Pleasant, located on the Ohio River is the burial site of Chief Cornstalk, who was murdered there during the Revolutionary War. Point Pleasant is also home to the Mothman, a strange apparition resembling part-man, part-moth or bird, who was first sited 40 years ago. Mothman hung out at TNT, the old ammunitions factory/storage facility. TNT was a series of concrete igloos, covered with dirt and vegetation, connected by a honeycomb of tunnels. Located next to McClinitc Wildlife Preserve, Ye Olde Mothman had plenty of places to hide. He didn’t hurt anyone but he sure scared a bunch of peeps. During this time, there were also reports of "Men in Black," and strange lights, and then the collapse of the Silver Bridge. Point Pleasant is haunted. Take it from an empath who has written about this strange place before. It’s the last post in my May 2004 archives. Strange, strange place, but I love going there. Its like a game of hide and seek in the light... or the dark. You can learn more about Ye Olde Mothman by watching "The Mothman Prophecies" starring Richard Gere or reading "The Mothman Prophecies" by John Keel. Braxton County The Braxton County or Flatwoods Monster, which supposedly descended from a UFO/meteorite over 50 years ago. They actually have a sign on the Interstate that reads - Welcome to Braxton County, Home of the Flatwoods Monster- or something like that. Moundsville Besides being home to the largest Indian mound in West Virginia, it was also home to the state penitentiary. Now, you can tour Moundsville State Pen and even spend the night, if you dare. Naturally, a prison has seen its share of sorrow, hate, anger, pain, and death. It may as well seeped into the walls. During a riot, the prisoners disembowled another "snitch" prisoner. Yeah, he was alive when they started. They say the area this happened in is especially haunted. You can check out more at www.wvpentours.com. Sounds like a great blogger get-together! Parkersburg/Shepherdstown/Harpers Ferry West Virginia has a deep Civil War history and the towns listed above have some of the richest. A lot of the current hospitals and even schools and colleges were used as hospitals during the Civil War and boast a multitude of ghosts, sounds, and just general creepiness. Many say John Brown is still a frequent visitor along the streets of Harpers Ferry and is seen with a black dog. Mountain Lore One of the most interesting stories is that of Coal Mountain, located in the Potomac Highlands. The story says a man and his servant were coon hunting one night and the servant, being a younger man, soon outdistanced his master (?) And when he returned to look for him he couldn’t find him. He was distraught at the loss and continued to search for him until he himself disappeared. A strange orangish glow is seen weaving up the mountain. Many believe the servant still seeks his master. There’s also the ghost which used to ride the cowcatcher on the train beginning as the train came through Silver Run Tunnel, located on the North Bend Rail Trail, located between Parkersburg and Clarksburg. There are pictures from North Bend on my photoblog, first month. There’s a ghostly historical marker in Sam Black Church (1897). It relates the story of the Greenbrier Ghost, Zona Heaster Shue, who was said to have appeared as a ghost to her mother for four days, explaining how she was murdered by her husband. This ghostly appearance lead to the exhumation of her body and an autopsy which revealed a broken neck and crushed windpipe. Her husband was arrested and convicted based on the ghost’s testimony and sentenced to life in prison. One way or another, we’re gonna getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha There are so many more ghost stories, I couldn’t write them all down and its seems like everybody has one. Like me. I went to T-Bird’s the other day to visit and was sitting in the living room with her, her ex, and a young lady who is staying with them. We spent some time watching the motorized monster truck make its way across the room in spurts and fits, the remote laying on its side, no batteries. This happens quite often, especially when J3 gets new toys. Its kind of fun, if you can get over the fact its moving by itself or rather, under spirit power.

I'm Here, I'm Here

My little fingers have been busy beading, beading, beading. I finally ripped my head out of its moorings in my gluteus maximus and started working on a design for my Mom’s Christmas present. I’ve had the idea floating around up top for a while and when I saw an advertisement for Bead & Button magazine and their submission guidelines... well... what an idea! Do my design, write about it... submit. Bingo! BooYAAA! Okay, so maybe they won’t like it but I won’t know unless I do it. To my credit, the design turned out as I had hoped it would, although right now, all I have are prototypes. Its not that I need a massive amount of beads, its that I need a good variety of colors in the same type of bead, which, I don’t have and I won’t have until later on this month. Oh, my design. Well, its actually not MY design, its an idea to incorporate something my mother loves into something I love. And me Mo, well me Mo is a quilter. Its an antique design, used for over a hundred years in quilting. Now, I’m just trying to decide... what the hell to do with it? Do I make individual blocks? Already have but then that just didn’t suit me much. I mean, its OK, but then I was looking at the completed quilts and thought how much prettier that is than just one block. Here’s an example. I was most pleased with a variation of the Log Cabin in which I put a matching Swarovski crystal where the normal red square goes. (The red square represents the hearth of home.) There are so many variations its not funny. But anywho, I adapted it for beading. I thought about using the blocks to make a bracelet or watchband. We’ll see. Then I thought about my miniatures. Although it’s a variation of an established pattern, as long as I give the original creator credit, then I can still use it. And write about it. Everything leads to writing. Which reminds me... I need to go to the library to look for a book on government grants. I may apply for money to just write. Wouldn’t that be the shit? I know it’s a possibility that if my firm joins with another firm at the first of the year, I could be without a job. That’s not far off. So much to think about, so much to do. Happy Hump Day.

Guess Who's Coming Home?

That's right peeps. My friend Troy has made it through his deployment in Afghanistan and should be home this time next week!! I'm not sure where he will end up, probably somewhere where he will write government contracts and be able to run a lot, since he put in 801 miles while deployed. His good bye letter to Afghanistan and the military was tear-inducing. Maybe I can convince him to guest blog for me on occasion while I plow ahead with my creative writing. I'm so very proud of him and proud to call him my friend.

God Bless America! Its Friday!

Instead of saying g-dd**n, I do try to say God Bless American instead. Its been a cussing kind of week. I’m still miserable with TMJ. Although I just took four Advil ©, so I’m hopeful that will give me some relief. I’m pretty sure I know where my terry cloth covered rice bag is too. They can be heated in the microwave, in case you don’t know what they are here’s your link. And for you more enterprising types, it includes instructions on how to make your own. The most miserable part of TMJ, apart from the swelling and pain, is the fever. Just a low-grade fever, 99.8 or so, but just enough to absolutely make me feel like shit. All day. Naturally, its quite difficult to concentrate on my writings and my plan for total world domination. Hopefully I’ll feel better over the weekend and I’ll be able to continue with my WV series next week. If I feel like it, I’ll blog over the weekend but I have a lot of work to do, so if I don’t, I’ll see you on the flipside.

Seven Bad Words

Yesterday evening, Nate and I set off im automobilia for the local convenience store. It was deep dusk but I could see the neighbor kids playing in the road. The girl is Nate’s age and has learned early how to give the "one finger salute." She acted like she was going to pull out on her bicycle in front of my car or ram it. Me, being in such a good mood, gave her a filthy dirty look, which I’m sure she couldn’t see, and voiced my displeasure to Nate about her. I used a very bad word in doing so. Yes, I uttered the "C" word, which is so "un"savory and "t"otally uncalled for. I pointed at Nate and said, "Don’t say that word. Don’t ever say that word." He looked at me and said, "Okay." I said, "I mean, if you ever want your front teeth back-handed down your throat then say that word, otherwise, don’t ever say that word." "Is that one of the seven bad words we should never use?" I laughed and said, "Yeah, but that word is one that nobody should ever use. Its that bad." "Is it a word inappropriate for all ages?" ROFLMFAO "Yeah, bud, its inappropriate for all ages." "So, its rated "I"." "Dude, where did you hear about the seven bad words?" "From Spongebob." "Oh." "But if you’re a sailor then its 13 bad words." "Then I must be part sailor." "You’re not mom." "How do you know?" "Cuz last night, while you were sleeping, I had doctors come in and do tests and they said you didn’t have any sailor blood." Damn.

Gulf Coast Blues

As many of you know, I took an over week-long trip earlier this year to the Gulf Coast, crossing Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas and spent time in and around New Orleans, Houston (and Nashville). The Gulf Coast holds some very special memories for me. My dad spent a great deal of time in Gulfport and Biloxi, Mississippi while he was in the Naval Reserve. He often did his two weeks active duty there and as my aunt lived just an hour or so over near New Orleans, it was a good excuse to visit. I almost broke my ankle riding double with my cousin one time. I can remember hearing that a hurricane may be coming and when my aunt’s air conditioning kicked on I awoke from a sound sleep, wondering if it was there. New Orleans was the first place I visited after coming home from Germany in 1989. I made my first trip to Texas in 1991 for my (German) sister’s wedding. They live about 30 miles west of Galveston now. I remember Galveston and wading in the piss warm water, the oil rigs tiny in the distance. That piss warm water that’s going to fuel Rita. In 1994, I returned to Texas and Louisiana right before my sister became pregnant with her first child and it would be almost 11 years before I made it back. Which, of course, was this year. I had more to go back to though. Bloggers... Se7en, Brighton, Zelda and Jethro, Tinyhands... and those further west that I missed seeing. I’m saddened and helpless. Blessed Be Gulf Coast.

Toss and Turn

No time for WV post tonight, just got back from being PTO Mom of the Year. Okay, that’s a lie. So, just a few morsels... *** I just read an article about Anti-War protestors and Katrina... blah blah blah, how it shows how vulnerable we are since more soldiers are fighting in Iraq. Sorry, even my shitbag Liberal ass says, “AWWW SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Having more troops stateside would not have changed the damage and it wouldn’t have changed the resulting fucocktomy in every level of government. Any Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marine contingency would have had their hands tied just like everyone else because some asshat at the local, state, federal level didn’t apply the correct pressure with their lips to the correct person’s ass. Get over it and stop making the rest of us look bad. *** Speaking of asshats... I was doing some reading over the weekend at various sources and read what is NOT being reported about Cindy Sheehan... creative editing, if you will. I don’t believe everything I read, BIG GRAIN OF SALT, but ... whew! YIKES!! Even with a BIG GRAIN OF SALT it tasted REALLY BAD. *** Yeah, yeah, PTO tonight. So, we stand for the Pledge of Allegiance, which I have no problem with, I just do some creative fine tuning to the word, God(dess). Then... an Our Father or the Lords’ Prayer. Nope, not gonna do it. I have no problem with spirituality being in our schools but not just Christian spirituality. I have no problems with a moment of silence, I have no problem with Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim etc. Clubs in schools. I do however have a problem with people who believe Christianity is the ONLY religion and henceforth, I would like the Wiccan Rede to be read at my school’s PTO meeting. I doubt I could get it on the agenda though. For those of you unfamiliar with the Wiccan Rede, this sums it up: Eight words the Witches Rede fulfill: If it Harms none, Do what Thou Will! The whole Wiccan Rede can be found at www.witchvox.com No, its not as simple as it sounds. And don’t give me crap. I went to a school function not a church. *** Whoooeeeeee... I’m hitting them all tonight aren’t I? Politics, religion, what else can I piss people off with? Not that I want to. I’ve just had a headache all day and everything seems to be getting on the one nerve that wasn’t hurting. *** Nate’s school has almost 25 teachers AND ALL OF THEM ARE WOMEN. At least, their names sounded female and there was one wearing a dress but ... whoa. She gives new meaning to the word FUG-LY. Yeah, the principal is a woman too. Now, being a woman, I certainly have no problem with women being teachers, however, COME THE FUCK ON!!! Not ONE token MALE?? Aren’t teachers supposed to be role models for our children??? Then who the hell is going to teach my son to spit and scratch his balls at inappropriate times. He’s going to fail Locker Room 101 when he gets to Middle School. *sigh* *** That is all the sunshine I have to spread for today. I'm going to go now and let some Ibuprofen eat through my stomach lining.

Down the Nar' Path

WV is a state with a lot of history and a whole lotta moxie. Appalachians or “hillbillies” have been portrayed as stupid, toothless, cannibalistic rednecks with a propensity to make “ferners” squeal like little pigs. And I have seen some pigs squealin’. As I think about my home state and the people I know, the deep people, the people who live in the rural areas, in the hollers, and on the hills, I notice a common thread. They love to get your goat. They like to see what you’re made of. Hillbilly hazing, if you will. They want to make sure you know that four wheelin’ doesn’t always entail an ATV and that you have to water down 200 proof moonshine with corn liquor and vodka, otherwise, it’ll kill ya. And of course they’ll wanna take ya on a snipe hunt, and swim at midnight down on the shoals where the river spiders are as big as the palm of your hand. They’ll entertain you with true spook stories sittin’ out by the trash barrel burnin’ brush while someone else sneaks up behind you and gooses ya and then they laugh because you spilled your beer. They’ll want you to play quarter-bounce and you’ll always be the one picked to drink the shot. No excuses of having to work the next day are allowed. Their motto is, “We only have to deliver a body.” I can still see Deano’s face as he said it, big shit-eatin’ grin on his face, his eyes bloodshot from drinkin’ and weed. Some just sit back and watch. They’ll nod as you come in the door and then they’ll wait and see. They’re waitin’ ta see if you’re gonna head for the door during your first barroom brawl or if you’re going to stick it out with your friends. They want to see if you fight fair. They want to see if you can fight at all. They want to see if you’re worth knowing and who you talk trash about and who you know better than to talk trash about. And one day a man the size of Hagrid (from Harry Potter, half-giant, wild hair) steps in front of you and says, “You’re alright.” And as your eyes travel from his naked hairy navel showing from under his shirt, to his Grizzly Adams face somewhere in the clouds of Everest, you know you’ve made a friend for life. One day, they’ll hand the reins over to you. Whether it be their Mustang or talking them down out of a crying drunk. Even if it means confronting one of your own for doing something outside “The Code.” Normally for something like skimming money from the register at work or screwing some skank ho in the back of a car. And then sometimes its child molestation and sometimes, its murder. You hear a lot in the hollers, in the deep valleys where they have to pipe sunshine in. We’ve all gone our separate ways now. The State Police have skunked every hiding place along the one lane road where we used to set road blocks during Halloween. I wonder if they still set the bridge on fire and if anyone is still stupid enough to try and cross it when they do. Its been a long time since I’ve been back, at least eight years. I wonder if they, those that remain, remember us or have we become like so many things in WV, just a whisper and a legend in the hills.

Dreamline

They travel in the time of the prophets On a desert highway straight to the heart of the sun Like lovers and heroes, and the restless part of everyone We're only at home when we're on the run They travel on the road to redemption A highway out of yesterday -- that tomorrow will bring Like lovers and heroes, birds in the last days of spring We're only at home when we're on the wing When we are young Wandering the face of the Earth Wondering what our dreams might be worth Learning that we're only immortal For a limited time Time is a gypsy caravan Steals away in the night To leave you stranded in Dreamland... Selected lyrics from Dreamline by Rush *** Perhaps you may infer from yesterday’s post that Jeff has been on a roll. Following my FIFTH conversation with him yesterday, I was finally able to take three Ibuprofen, the ones that will eat the lining of my stomach, which did nothing for the general ill feeling I get talking to him sometimes, and go to bed. (The reason I talk to him instead of ignoring his calls is it is better than him showing up at my house and me having to call the police.) Reoccurrence Back in the days of the Ex-Drunk-Boyfriend Holland, I had a reoccurring dream. In the dream, I was always driving a vehicle on a treacherous WV highway, in the mountains, the roads slick with rain, gravel strewn in the U-pin turns. I’ve seen that road a thousand times. Always, I would lose control of the vehicle I was driving, sliding in the rain and on the gravel, and go over the side of the mountain. I didn’t wake up when I went over the mountain. Instead, I watched as trees and brush whipped past and I was bounced against the inside of the vehicle. Then I would wake up. I can’t tell you how frightening it was to go over that mountain and the feeling of falling, which I relate to my fear of heights. One night I started losing control of that vehicle but I was able to stop it, skidded to side, on the berm, but I didn’t go over the mountain. I never had that particular dream again. Symbols Another reoccurring symbol in my dreams is railroad tracks. Given I’ve lived next to, across from, or in close proximity to railroad tracks my entire life, I guess that may not be surprising. Yet, I equate the driving and tracks as a pulse point for my life. I’ve dreamt of Holland and I by the railroad tracks, with a car. My reoccurring over-the-mountain dream. I once dreamt I was blind and driving until I came through a tunnel into the light. Not all my dreams are symbolic. I did dream that my niece Annie was indeed a niece, compared to another nephew. I had another dream which was quite literal yet I can’t recall what it is now. I should, I know, write them down. Kristin just sent me a lovely journal, not to mention my blog. I am writing this one down. Last Night The dream was that I was a passenger in a blue mini-van, driven by a woman I didn’t know. For some reason, she was turning us around in the road and ended up backing over the edge of the riverbank, and naturally, down we went into the muddy, rolling waters until we got to the other side and flipped upside down and then right side up... guess where? NEXT TO THE RAILROAD TRACKS!!! Almost on the tracks and I could hear the train whistle in the distance. Funny thing is, we weren’t the only ones. Another two or three vehicles ended up there after floating down the river. I don’t need a dream interpretation. I know being a passenger symbolizes passivity. The river symbolizes taking control of my life. The water itself, brown, choppy represents a lack of emotional clarity and being emotionally overwhelmed. And of course, the whole deal of going backwards, I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to know that means repeating the past. All of the above, a reaction to the turbulence of dealing with Jeff. Yes, he was in the driver’s seat yesterday. My emotions were all over the map and when he finds a crack in my armor he attacks with a vengeance. Its all my fault, everything is my fault, and we couldn’t even agree to disagree. He was being as ugly, relentless, dark, moody, and dirty as a flood. The good news is, the train tracks represent being well received by friends and travel. I don’t think its indicative of where my life is going right now, merely a glimpse at where it was and where it could go again if I fail to hold my ground and be sucked into a past which is just that, the past. Its not something I can repeat, nor care to. I can’t change it. No matter how much he holds onto it, and the hurt, whether real or imagined, will continue to be picked at until it festers. Always his hurt, always his pain, always my fault. Reality is our perception plus a distortion of the truth. Some of us are just a bit more distorted than others.

The State of the Union - September 2005

Fossil Hunting Nate and I found some and I took pictures. I'm just waiting to get the film back or rather, to use it all, and then get it back after developing. I FUCKIN' Love You, Bitch! Jeff and the kids were in a car accident almost two weeks ago. A woman hit them almost head on. Luckily, it was at a low speed and everyone is fine, except Jeff. He has the spine of 90 year old. They also saw a "suspicious spot" that they think may be cancer. Did I tell you he was diagnosed with diabetes a while back? Did I tell you how much weight he's lost? He's got a lot of on his mind, not just with all of the wreck related stress, but his spine, the "suspicious spot," his diabetes, and that leads him to basically be an ass, hence the subtitle, which basically leads me to be upset. The subtitle was his response to me asking him if he hated me since he was being as mean to me as he possibly could, or very close. I alternate between wanting to choke him and being very worried that my son may have to watch his father die, not to mention, damn it, and don't ask me why, I still care about him. Sometimes you look at someone's life and say, "ENOUGH ALREADY!" Face Ache Finally discovered why I've been feeling so crappy. My face has been extremely sore and achy. I went to the dentist, it wasn't my teeth. Yeah, I got a couple of cavaties, but neither are serious enough to cause any pain. I thought it might have to do with my sinuses - not them either. I got my eyes checked today and they were the same prescription so it wasn't eye strain. Finally, finally, finally, I woke up this morning to find the pain had receded from the top of my head, my jawbone, my cheekbone, and down the side of my face, to center right over my left tempomandibular joint. A gift for all the times I spend grinding my teeth. No, not in my sleep, I snore, I don't have time to grind. I grind during the day. I've probably caught myself five times while writing these last two sentences. The Relic Remember the king size waterbed frame I had? Well, I finally took all of the parts up to the attic. Well, almost all of the parts. That's what anger and sadness does to you. It makes you do stupid things, like haul heavy shit up creaky pull down steps while trying to keep from stepping on the six cats who think, "HEEEEY!! MOM'S GOT THE ATTIC OPEN!! LET'S GO LOOK!!! Better yet, LET'S RACE!" Test Results Nate got his standardized testing back. He scored: Distinguished in Math (the highest),and Above Mastery (the next highest) in Spelling/Reading, Social Studies, and Science. His Star reading test came back at 5.6, meaning in the 3rd grade, 9th month, he was reading and comprehending on a 5th grade, 6th month level. He's my boy!! So, that's the State of Union - September 14, 2005.

A Moment of Silence

Reflect. Remember.

Digression Into Gulf

Sorry, no light-hearted blog today about the Mothman, The Braxton County Monster, and other strange, bizarre, and frightening phenomena about West Virginia. I was up this morning about 2:00 or so, my back aching, and well, just generally everything aching. Of course, what do I do? I take an Ibuprofen (the only one in the house), and I run about the Blogosphere, hoping to distract myself, laugh a little, and generally visit. I didn’t get very far until I was upset, angry, and grinding my teeth as I read comments sections digressing into the physical equivalent of shouting matches, fistfights, barroom brawls, and riots. Not since the elections of last year has Blogland been so divided along political lines. Now it would also appear that chasm is widening along socioeconomic lines. Its not just on Blogger either. I read journals from AOL, MSN, livejournal, etc. Everywhere I go I’m inundated by sarcastic, back-biting, smart-assed, snarky, hateful language, all directed at each other. Everyone has something to say, and no one wants to listen, they just want to say what they have to say, and no on else knows as much as they do, and no one else makes a valid argument. Then if you click on their blog, expecting some dissertation supporting their theories, its not there. Even the blogs where they aren’t talking about Katrina in the blog itself, they still get flamers because of a comment they made at someone else’s blog, so just trying to read the people who have had their say and let their feelings out about Katrina last week, doesn’t work either. Katrina has uncovered incompetence at every level of government. It has shown us how a few people can make life miserable for many, whether they be government or street thugs. It has shown us miracles and travesties. As always, disasters show the very best and the very worst of human behavior. We all want to believe we’re the National Guardsman carrying little girls to safety. We’re the people patrolling the streets, making it safe. We’re the people in helicopters and boats, saving people from dire, life-threatening situations. We’re the people handing out water and food. We’re the people helping people find their loved ones. We’re the people instilling hope and dignity back into devastated communities. If that’s who we want to believe we are, then we need to stop acting like street thugs. I can’t take it anymore. Its like a train wreck you can’t stop watching but I chose to stop watching. As an empath, you learn to filter. My filter is overwhelmed. I’ll be back next week sometime. Nate and I are going fossil hunting over the weekend and I would like to continue my West Virginia series but I can’t do that until I’m not feeling like I do now. I need some fresh air and some time with my little person. Peace.

Where The Hell Am I? And What Am I Doing In This Handbasket?

(PART ONE) Welcome to WILD, WONDERFUL WEST VIRGINIA WEEK!! And I do mean, WILD. What? Where’s the applause? I know you want the skinny on my home state. The good, the bad, the ugly, and mostly, the just plain weird. Since I’ll be having an out-of-state visitor next month, thought I would attempt to paint my state in the very best light possible. Yeah, I got some flat land here too. Every place has its ups and downs, and being called “The Mountain State,” you can imagine we have plenty of both. By the way, that’s our nickname. Every state has one, like - The Peach State - GA, or The Sunshine State - FL. (Photo from wvculture.org) A little WV pre-history to get things rolling. For the past 12,500 years (maybe sooner), WV has been an inhabited land. First came the Paleo-Indians who hunted the mastadon and mammoth until the climate changed and they moved on. The Archiac Indians were next and they stuck around for about 7,000 years and somewhere along the line they became Woodlands Indians. The Woodlands Indians which inhabited this part of the WV were called the Adena Indians or moundbuilders. Indeed, there is a mound within ten miles of my house and there was one plowed under to build a high school which was even closer. Moundsville, WV, is named for the Grave Creek Mound, the largest Adena burial mound in WV. (Although it is in the northern part of the state.) WV was at one time completely submerged in water and many fossils of seashells can be found high in the mountains. Many Indian villages can be recognized by mussel shells as the Kanawha River used to be clean and the fish didn’t glow from the toxicities spewed forth by the chemical factories in the area. You will not find mussels and clams in the Kanawha River now, although I’m told in certain areas the crawdads grow to the size of small lobsters and have two heads. Given our rich Native American history, its quite possible wherever you build your home, you may be building it on an Indian burial ground. The Shawnee, Iroquois, and Cherokee used the Kanawha Valley as hunting ground but resisted actually living here. Something about bad spirits. There are also whispers of an ancient Native American tribe, even more ancient than the Paleo-Indians, which were a blonde-haired, blue-eyed tribe of giants, some over 8 feet tall, which were eventually ran out, killed, or assimilated into other tribes. Ahhh, the unexplained mysteries of man. I’ve got a bit of Native American blood in me. I have at least two ancestors on my Mom’s side, and one on my Dad’s who were Native American. Its presumed they were either Cherokee, Shawnee, Creek, or all the above. In the Appalachians, many claim Native American ancestry, and its probably one of the many explanations for WV/Appalachian folklore, rich in ghost sightings, the Mothman, and other unexplained phenomena, including the Braxton County Monster, the Lady in White, banshees, and other fabulous things about my home state and its people. As T-Bird and I would say, “Get in, sit down, shut up, and hold on.”

Hair Pic...

My digi sucks ass... but this will give you an idea of what my hair looks like now.

I'm Not Going To Change Anyone's Mind...

And that's not what I'm here for. As Jeanette reflected in the last posts comments, it isn't healthy to remain bitter. Luckily, I have my blog as a forum to post my thoughts and rants and release all those bitter feelings. As I've said before, writing is my emotional release. Its not just about creatively writing, or technically writing, its about release. I'll not change anyone's mind although I hope you learn something by stopping by on occasion. If you change your mind because of something I wrote then its because YOU changed your mind after READING and THINKING about whatever I wrote. Too often we get so stuck in a particular brain fog we lose the capability of even THINKING that someone else may have a point, even if its a point we have diligently resisted. For example, my co-worker Sissy, just found out she's going to have another baby. Her current "baby" is ten years old. I know that she is fervently anti-abortion, or, she was. Yet, when I told her that T-Bird will be an aunt again (that would be Chay, 19 years old, working on baby #2 by man #400), she said, "You know, I used to be anti-abortion..." I don't recall exactly what wording she used but her views had changed. My guess is she's still just as anti-abortion as I am. That's right, I'm anti-abortion. I think its used far too often for birth control. Yet, I remain pro-choice. I remain pro-choice because of another friend. She and her husband became parents very, very early (she was 16, he was 18) but decided they didn't want to have their kids too far apart, even given their young ages. Vick was pregnant the same time I was pregnant with Nate yet an ultrasound showed their baby did not have a brain and the spinal cord was deformed and exposed. Why nature did not right this wrong, I do not know. This is why I believe abortions should be kept legal and safe. I just wish more people were more discriminating. But, like I said, I won't be changing anyone's minds by what I write here. This blog is an emotional release for me. I can use it to document my life, rant about my fucked up government, and I can hopefully use it to educate a little as well. What I wrote two posts down about our government's terrible response to Katrina had to be written for me to at least have some feeling of power over the situation. Then I washed a lot of clothes to donate. I feel better now. Peace.

On The Other Hand...

I ranted about our government below, so now, in light of Jeanette's post, I'm ready to calm myself, be thankful, and count my blessings. My family is safe, all of us, and have homes. We're more fortunate than probably 90% of the world, much less NOLA. It is absolutely beautiful here today. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the streets are clean. I am indeed blessed. I have access to healthcare, other than a few problems, which, although irritating, are nothing compared to the hell others are going through, not just in NOLA but all over the world. Give if you can to the Red Cross or The Salvation Army or other charity. I am. And remember, although the people around you may not be in the dire straits the citizens in LA, MS, and AL are, there are still people in your community who could use a helping hand. Although it may not a appear as such, most people could use a helping hand more than a hand out. Think globally, act locally.

I Can't Keep Quiet Any Longer

I've purposefully not posted about my feelings about what has happened in NOLA since Hurricane Katrina. Whatever I've said has been more about concern for my family and friends. Now, after listening Mayor Nagin tell the government to "get off their asses" and he feels as though he has nothing to lose, hell they've lost everything, I'll say this. This IS the worst response to a natural disaster I can ever recall. THE WORST. A day or two into it, and I was wondering where the hell everyone was. My dad even said it and my dad is a Republican and military and he's disgusted. DISGUSTED. Disheartened and helpless like the vast majority of us are to do anything. I'm going to say this and you folks can bitch and moan and gripe about partisanship and that I'm a Democrat, whatever. I'm a citizen of this country first and a Democrat, mid-leaning Centrist, second. I DID NOT SEE GOVERNOR JEB BUSH CRYING AND CUSSING ON NATIONAL TELEVISION, PLEADING, BEGGING FOR HELP AFTER HIS STATE WAS DEVASTATED BY HURRICANES. Think about it. This is not just about our President. This is about OUR ENTIRE GOVERNMENT. I'm ashamed that MY representatives, Republican and Democrat, because we do have both, didn't put more pressure on to resolve this situation more quickly. It could have been done. My dad, a 25 year veteran of our armed forces says, "It should have never come to this." Our President, our representatives, should have looked at everyone around them and said, "MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!!" Instead, they held a freakin' meeting, like no one knew this hurricane didn't have the potential to be one of the worst hurricanes and wreak CATASTROPHIC DAMAGE throughout the Gulf Coast region. Our President is not the only person in Washington with power but when its the President's son or the President's brother, I don't guess people need prodded as much to do their fucking job. And finally, if you don't like what I just said, I don't care. Its the truth. I have my own memory. I don't need CNN to refresh my recollection of hurricanes to hit the US within the past 20 years. Even my cousins were making excuses for the poor response. It takes time to mobilize the National Guard. Good one, except my brother is in the National Guard and has been for almost 20 years. When my brother gets the call, my brother is GONE. My brother packs his shit, kisses his wife and kids and leaves. Because its his duty. He took an oath to this country. The National Guard are the minutemen of modern society. And even in this little poor state, our citizens, devastated by flooding a few years ago, weren't waiting for supplies. Granted, it was on a much, much, much smaller scale, but they were there. Its time to stop making excuses. I would feel the same about my govenor, who is a Democrat, if he pissed around at his retreat at the Greenbrier and didn't return to Charleston. I'd vote him out of office for such a lack of caring for his fellow citizens. People like that don't deserve to run a state much less a country. General Honore... Git 'er done!!

Rewind

I was reading over my old blog posts because I just felt like it and thought, Damn, I can be pretty funny when I want to be. I found a few that I wanted to resurrect and maybe bring a smile to some faces when smiles are in short order. I thought I would re-write this a bit and make it more understandable. What I write in italics is what I was THINKING. "What ever is in quotations is what was SAID." Channeling Jim Morrison I answer phones on roll-over at work. That means the receptionist is stuck with someone and the phone ring and rings. It’s a chance you take picking it up, afraid it might be that client you've been dodging. I usually try and disguise my voice. Today, I got a guy who said, "I gotta sort of a wierd question." God, I love these. He said, "I was divorced in '98 in Florida," immediately I'm thinking, Good, I'll refer him back to Florida. Bad me. "Well, my ex-wife called to let me know her dad died and the estate is worth a couple million dollars." Ooooookaay."Now, why would she do that? Her dad and I were always on good terms." Be damned if I know mister since you called a law firm instead of a psychic hotline, but I'd try like hell to get back in her good graces. "Well sir, perhaps you were named in the will." "I didn't think of that." Damn, but I did! "Me and him were always close. Just because I divorced her don't mean I divorced him." Oooookaaay "Sir, did she just call and say, 'hey, my dad died, he's worth 2 million?'" That'll teach ya for divorcing me! "No, no, matter a fact, we talked for 4 hours and cried together. See, she never got along with her dad very well," So much for the inheritance, dump her! "And I broke on through to the other side," Whooaaaa, serious 60's drug use here causing him to channel Jim Morrison, "so it really patched things up with them." Awwwwww... "Sir, I think maybe since you and her dad were so close that she wanted to talk to someone who loved him as much as she did. She needed to make a connection with someone who would understand what she was feeling," I am SO good! "Yeah, yeah, I think that may have been it." Then why the fuck did you just waste 5 minutes of my time? "Thanks for clearing that up for me. I really appreciate it." Not a problem, Thursdays are always my most psychic days.

The Fortunate Ones

I just got off the phone with my cousins. They are west of Lafayette but did make it back today to check on their homes. Yes, they are there. My aunt and uncle, and both my cousins still have their homes with little or no damage. They stopped some looters while they were there so they may still suffer looter damage although Katrina didn’t break their windows. My cousin is having some medical problems from her recent surgery but they sounded upbeat and very, very thankful. Here’s what they were able to tell me that the news hasn’t or rather, what I haven’t heard since I don’t watch TV. The causeway spanning Lake Pontchartrain is... not entirely missing but missing mile long chunks. Its basically trashed. The town where the hurricane made landfall is completely gone. Not even debris is left. Not sheet metal, not plywood, just zip. Nada. Nothing. Flat places where businesses and homes used to stand. If you haven’t heard, but most of you have, Aaron Broussard is now the dictator of Jefferson Parish (where Seven lives or lived). He declared martial law and seceded Jefferson Parish from the Union. His deputies were involved in four gun battles with better armed looting gangs and he took matters into his own hands. The hospitals are appealing to The Associated Press for help. Almost all of the bridges are gone. Okay, all of the bridges on the east side of the city are gone. The good news is, they passed several caravans taking evacuees to Houston. So, at least someone is getting out of that miserable city. My family are indeed, the fortunate ones.