<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358</id><updated>2012-02-17T08:28:02.494-08:00</updated><category term='phantom'/><category term='nostalgia'/><category term='Economy'/><category term='finances'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='u'/><category term='election'/><category term='gripes'/><category term='rights'/><category term='divorce'/><category term='punk'/><category term='tolerance'/><category term='The Decline'/><category term='vote'/><category term='Obama'/><category term='music'/><category term='pondering'/><category term='fall'/><category term='surprise'/><category term='love'/><category term='equality'/><category term='freedom'/><category term='NOFX'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>Stumped</title><subtitle type='html'>I couldn't come up with a name for my blog.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>66</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-9007440617172826405</id><published>2009-08-09T12:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T12:34:48.518-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So true</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/Sn8koyqd9TI/AAAAAAAAADA/yjXtiTfWAbI/s1600-h/notes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 138px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/Sn8koyqd9TI/AAAAAAAAADA/yjXtiTfWAbI/s200/notes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368049564062184754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My good friend Krista hooked me on &lt;a href="http://postsecret.blogspot.com/"&gt;Postsecret.com &lt;/a&gt; and I read the updated site every Sunday. There was one of todays that grabbed my attention and needed to be reposted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-9007440617172826405?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/9007440617172826405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=9007440617172826405' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/9007440617172826405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/9007440617172826405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/08/so-true.html' title='So true'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/Sn8koyqd9TI/AAAAAAAAADA/yjXtiTfWAbI/s72-c/notes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7584749781448886744</id><published>2009-07-31T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T21:31:46.565-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If this is it..</title><content type='html'>So... the economy caught up with my little neck of the woods, and on July 24th, I walked out the door of Planning &amp; Development without my key. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The layoff was hard. I didn't want to go. I knew for about 2 months that I would not have a job, but I didn't realize I'd stay until the end of July. I am grateful for that little bit of time. My job wasn't just a means to support my large family to me - it was an achievement. After being a stay at home mother for 11 1/2 years, then a sandwich slinger at the Vons Deli, I was an Administrative Office Professional II. I made $18 an hour and life was very comfortable and I was proud of myself. After thinking I was worthless and couldn't achieve anything, I proved to myself and anyone with doubts that I was good enough, smart enough, and doggone it, people liked me. For me, that job was a shiny badge of progress and achievement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I trained my replacements, but with not NEARLY enough time. My heart broke all over the place as I was trying to explain the difference between our office and theirs.. and looking at the terror in their eyes. I knew my job, I was good at it, and I had to train the people would be TAKING my job, with NOT ENOUGH TIME to do it adequately. I hated leaving them with leftover work, half finished projects and not enough information. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The staff was very supportive, letting me know they didn't want to see me go, and  showing me appreciation. It's hard to leave an environment where you feel you can thrive. Today marks the first week of being unemployed, and the financial pinch reared its ugly head and made me want to curl up into a tiny ball and weep. I KNOW I will make it, but man, it's scary not knowing HOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To top that all off, Scott's been going through his own challenges in life. He's had to find a new place to live in a very short time. He hates his job, and was silly and took on a major musical which opens in 2 weeks. We routinely talk, but I can't help feeling like I miss him more and more every day. The good side of that is, I don't feel like he and I are straining apart for these changes. I think we're getting closer together because of everything in life that is changing and falling apart, he and I are the constant, the solace. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a job interview with another agency for Santa Barbara County. I'm excited and nervous - I really need the job, and welcome the challenge. If you have some to spare, I welcome all mojo and positive thoughts. If you need any back, I have TONS to spare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7584749781448886744?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7584749781448886744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7584749781448886744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7584749781448886744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7584749781448886744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/07/if-this-is-it.html' title='If this is it..'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-4478749607297089060</id><published>2009-06-21T01:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T01:10:59.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Father's Day</title><content type='html'>To my dad : I'm really glad that the 'Gotta' is gone Dad. I hope you are at peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To myself : You did the right thing by not calling him when he blew out his liver, was hospitalized and died a day later. You couldn't have said anything meaningful without hurting him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To everyone who has a 'less than perfect' dad : If you don't call him tomorrow, you're not a bad person. Seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To everyone who has a great dad : Call him. Seriously. And if you feel up to it, thank him for me. I'm glad your life has been enriched from him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-4478749607297089060?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/4478749607297089060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=4478749607297089060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4478749607297089060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4478749607297089060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/06/happy-fathers-day.html' title='Happy Father&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8856005105032037835</id><published>2009-05-14T22:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T22:11:01.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>News from the Front</title><content type='html'>As many, MANY, TOO MANY people know, the economy blows goats. It just caught up with me. Today I was pulled into my boss' boss' office and told by HER Boss that I am being given a layoff warning. This means that for all intents and purposes, I will not have a job with the county come July 1st.  Anything can change in a month, however I am not overly optimistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started to cry.. not sob, but the tears leaked out. I knew it wasn't personal. She began to tell me how valuable I am, how good a job I have done, and they didn't want to let me go.  While it sounds pretty, and it may be a line of crap uttered to a laid off employee who is crying, I'm going to take it as a compliment to my service to my department. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They can't lay THAT off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hurt. I'm sad, and I'm proud of the achievement I have earned - going from new hire and low woman on the food chain to the highest admin in our office. I had more responsibility and tasks than I was classified for, I had my own office, and I am proud that as a woman who was a stay at home mother, shut in and abuse survivor - that this is what I have attained 2 years after I left my ex husband and struck out on my own, after 11 years of no work experience.. I am PROUD of myself. I have kicked ass, I have left my name with people, and I may be laid off, but I am not FIRED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am proud that I have never been fired. I have quit, I have resigned, but I have never been fired. I need to look at that long and hard and accept it for what it is. I am competant, I am employable, I am valuable. I have learned much, grown more and am ready to begin to reassess my current life and find out what I need to change to get to where I need to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this job was the best thing I could get a year and a half ago, but it's NOT the only job I will have for the rest of my life, OR even the best job. That's yet to be found. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my layoff, i wrote my boss and her boss and thanked them for everything they had done for me, the opportunities and the growth. I let them know I admired them and wanted them to know that whatever they needed me to do in the coming month to helo transition into the new system would be my pleasure to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sad, I'm disappointed, and I feel a little defeated - but it will pass. I have earned the luxury of self-pity, and it will not last. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Krista once said I reminded her of a cat - I always land on my feet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8856005105032037835?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8856005105032037835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8856005105032037835' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8856005105032037835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8856005105032037835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/05/news-from-front.html' title='News from the Front'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8074324573340719513</id><published>2009-05-02T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T19:40:38.049-07:00</updated><title type='text'>it doesn't HAVE to be the SWINE flu to suck..</title><content type='html'>It's been a while since I posted. I'm sure all 2 of you understand, since I talk to you fairly regularly. Life's life. Work's work and suckish, and now I have a raging case of the stomach flu.  I heard somewhere that if you had the stomach bug it's not really the flu, since influenza causes UBER COLD symptoms, such as fever chills, aches, pains, swollen lymph nodes, runny nose, sore throat.  If thats the case, what the HELL do YOU call when you run to the bathroom and barf up the contents of your stomach, becoming impressed with the human body's capacity for storage? Add in the bowel emptying which, I had to describe to the baby as "pooping out water' for her to understand what I meant when I was asking if she had diarrhea..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, what IS that supposed to be called, Rotovirus? Sure, 'round here, you say "I got the stomach flu" and people flee in terror in speeds that will astound. You don't say "I got a rotovirus" People look at you and wonder what the crap you've been doing with your remote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this rotovirus/stomach flu/minion sent from hell to exact vengance upon me has arrived, began with the baby, and has kicked my butt.  YOU KNOW I am sick when I lay in bed for the better part of the day, and have nothing to do with my children.  In fact, THEY knew I was sick for that and were worried about me. You know what that means, right? They're next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh. Joy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excuse me while I half-heartedly sip my Hansen's mandarin lime soda and nibble my saltines all while cursing the invention of consumable food. I hate you food!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8074324573340719513?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8074324573340719513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8074324573340719513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8074324573340719513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8074324573340719513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/05/it-doesnt-have-to-be-swine-flu-to-suck.html' title='it doesn&apos;t HAVE to be the SWINE flu to suck..'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-3782288195704126884</id><published>2009-04-16T23:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T23:22:23.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Stuck in the Process of Change</title><content type='html'>Im fortunate to work for an organization that values training and knowledge. What can I say, I work for the 'overachievers' you hated to have classes with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I took away from training on Wednesday's "managing change' class is that change is a cyclical cycle.. you begin the process, you question or resent the need for change, you question and evaluate the possibilities of change, you achieve resolution, enjoying the change, then change will happen again, because we are not static creatures, and we are not characters in a play. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, having said that, I have to say that while my biggest change in life over the last 4 years has been leaving my abusive marriage, striking out on my own and learning to support myself (sometimes with better and more responsible results than others), and how to hold a job (sometimes I'm too flaky, because I need to be focused from time to time). All this was mixed into something that I have lost touch with. I was a single parent for as long as I have had children.  Granted, He brought home money and paid for us to live, but he never took care of the children, and the brunt of that fell to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am finding that I have distanced myself from the ONE role that defined me for all these years... Motherhood. I have never been the touchy feely lovey dovey mom that many people think I should be.. but I have always been involved, and i have to say that lately, I have been patently UNinvolved. Somewhere between learning to have a career and maintaining a relationship, I have neglected the driving force for my leaving - the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I can't just stop being a selfish person. I don't think it's in my nature to split myself in so many directions and NOT get pissy. Maybe i'll surprise myself, though. But.. I was thinking on what I used to do on a nightly basis.. and I don't do it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gone are the days when I needed to bathe my children - they are self sufficient and can shower on their own (Most days.. some days I need to remind them to use soap AND water.).  They can dress themselves (Most days - some days I need to remind 'the baby' to put on chonies. OY!), and they can feed themselves.  Somewhere in their independance I have forgotten that they still need me. I dont know that I LIKE being needed, but I suspect that were it to end abruptly, I would be shocked and not know what to do immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The title to this post relates to the fact that while I was angry and hurt that I had to take this burden on myself, I kind of got between anger and resentment of change and questioning everything.  At some point, I need to realize I AM in charge and own it. I have regressed and take as much personal time as I can, and we never do anything as a family.  I have now modeled my own childhood - mom was busy, self abosorbed in her need for love (Oh, I got that trait in SPADES, let me tell you), but she managed to clean the house -something I resent doing and resist, as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am NOT my mother, but I can now appreciate where she was when I was resentful that she wasn't gushy and lovey dovey.  I had an epiphany not too long ago that you cannot adequately provide for the needs of another person when you, yourself are barely keeping your head above water.  That applies to money, water and emotions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in this is a piece I have overlooked.  I have the love of a good man, and although he's not physically here, I do not doubt his intentions or feelings.  He makes me feel good.  He also grounds me and although I never hear him grumbling or criticizing me, I know that he wonders if maybe he is a distraction from 'what is important' - To me, he isn't, but I think I am taking my personal space in the wrong way. I play a computer game in the front room, around my children who are doing something else.. While I can see them, and they are fed and provided for, they are not experiencing a family.  Maybe this is my default becuase I don't KNOW what family feels like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not meant to be a cop-out or a scapegoat, but it sure makes me look at the situation. What am I missing? I think some of it is physical activity, I think some is reading, I think some is shutting my bedroom door, but I think most of it is a lack of structure.  I feel like there's an empty space in my home... a void that's more vivid than the colors around.  I'm sure I'm failing to articulate this exactly, but... I feel like I'm waiting for SOMETHING before I begin to do my real work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And... That sucks. :( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Today I begin to move forward... slowly, baby steps. Maybe even someday I'll be the huggy lovey dovey super mom.. but, if not, maybe I'll just stop working on my ass grove on my computer chair and some things will get done around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see a compromise coming!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-3782288195704126884?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/3782288195704126884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=3782288195704126884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3782288195704126884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3782288195704126884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/04/getting-stuck-in-process-of-change.html' title='Getting Stuck in the Process of Change'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7380789653893277272</id><published>2009-04-07T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T20:08:14.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*Sigh*</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SdwVBrikC9I/AAAAAAAAABo/UBwIth-LCNY/s1600-h/Kiss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SdwVBrikC9I/AAAAAAAAABo/UBwIth-LCNY/s200/Kiss.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322151978256829394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to go ahead and keep him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7380789653893277272?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7380789653893277272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7380789653893277272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7380789653893277272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7380789653893277272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/04/sigh.html' title='*Sigh*'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SdwVBrikC9I/AAAAAAAAABo/UBwIth-LCNY/s72-c/Kiss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-5757269417717944219</id><published>2009-03-22T17:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T17:25:58.833-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='punk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NOFX'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Decline'/><title type='text'>We are the queer!</title><content type='html'>Anyone who dismisses punk out of hand as not 'worthwhile' musically has never heard &lt;a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5637645708702385131&amp;ei=4NLGSdGPHoWgqQP_v_DwCQ&amp;q=the+decline+NOFX&amp;hl=en"&gt;The Decline&lt;/a&gt; by NOFX.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-5757269417717944219?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/5757269417717944219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=5757269417717944219' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5757269417717944219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5757269417717944219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/03/decline.html' title='We are the queer!'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-2360723208300602217</id><published>2009-03-19T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T22:25:20.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>profoundly disturbed.</title><content type='html'>This morning I was revisiting my friend &lt;a href="http://blog.kkorner.net/"&gt;Krista's&lt;/a&gt; website and re-watched the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mI_RWXwbFqI&amp;feature=player_embedded"&gt;I'm a European Roma Woman&lt;/a&gt;.  That led me to do some light research into the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Romani_people"&gt;Romani&lt;/a&gt;.  I didn't realize that they were also interred with the Jews in execution and concentration camps. Whenever I read about the Holocaust, I feel a calm stillness inside me.  There are things I have never seen, never wish to see and as much as I try to academically wrap my mind around the events, a large emotional piece of me covers my academic eyes so that I may never understand WHY.  Because, for some things, there will &lt;strong&gt;NEVER&lt;/strong&gt; be an answer to WHY. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry that I had been ignorant that the Romani people had been &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Porajmos"&gt;persecuted&lt;/a&gt; alongside the Jews. (This does not intend to say that it is more tragic that the Romani suffered as the Jews did. This is meant to state I am sorry I only saw the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Holocaust"&gt;Holocaust&lt;/a&gt; as belonging to one ethic group)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Separate from this, but tied very strongly to Human Rights is the case of the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fritzl_case"&gt;Fritzl&lt;/a&gt; family. I was going to say that I wasn't sure what was worse - that it happened at all, or that it was concealed so well.  I think they are the same thing. Unfortunately, I was a victem of sexual abuse by my mother's boyfriend at the age of 9.  It didn't happen just once, and it didn't always involve force by him. I do not take responsibility for his actions. Adults are the responsibile party.  My abuser was thrown out of the house a year later, when I was 10, and I was sexually abused through that time.  Not every day, but it happened. I am not ashamed to say it happened, or even that I did not fight, which is often contrary to what we are taught. You have to fight for it to be wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. Abuse of any kind is wrong. That this occured in this woman's home, that she was imprisoned and sexually tortured by her father, enslaved and forced to bear his children... it's morally reprehensible. And while I was sexually abused as a young girl, *I* was rescued from at after a year. This woman's entire life was centered around this monstrous reprobate's sick desires. His claim that he couldn't help it, and the sentence of life imprisonment with psychiatric care will never excuse the fact that this young woman was imprisoned after trying to escape the horror of her father's vices (he began abusing her at age 11). Her mother was a passive partner to the abuse, and while academically we may call them enablers, I cannot help but think that he had a hold over her that she will never understand or acknowledge. You don't start out abused, just as the abuser never starts out abusing. It's a very gradual process, and eventually, you accept the abuse as normal, even welcoming it after it's abated for a while.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I am no psychologist, I feel safe in saying that the mother, while not victimized so brutally, is a victem as well as the daughter, as well as the daughter's children. My heart aches for them, and I find my emotions putting hands up over the logical me's eyes.. "Shhh, it's okay, lets go think about something else now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, there will never be a WHY great enough to undo the damage that was caused these people, but more frightenly, there is brutality, fear and control happening every day in every walk of life. Although your neighbor may not have a dungeon, do you really know what happens?  Most of the time, probably yes, but most people don't say "Oh, he was a control freak, always yelling at his wife, that daughter of his always looked scared around him, and she would never talk when they were together. I wondered why he was building an addition under his house and would disappear for days at a time. Yeah, I never really thought he was a good guy." No.. most of us end up saying "He seemed like a nice guy, always kept to himself" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This doesn't imply a need for the reader to go investigate their neighbor's homes, only a glimmer of awareness that brutality and abuse occur everywhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-2360723208300602217?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/2360723208300602217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=2360723208300602217' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2360723208300602217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2360723208300602217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/03/profoundly-disturbed.html' title='profoundly disturbed.'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-2690971575029478719</id><published>2009-03-15T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T21:12:38.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blah blah biddity Boo</title><content type='html'>Sometimes you just need to get crap out of your head without having a cohesive element, message OR style before you start typing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one of those times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On parenting : I'm sucking out loud, and i know it. I know I have been severely shirking my responsibilities (Dude, seriously, check out how many times the letter 'i' appears in this word. CRAZY)and it directly impacts my ability to parent WELL and to do.. well, EVERYTHING ELSE well. I don't NEED order in everything, but dammit, I want to walk down the hallway to my room or the bathroom and not have to step around, over, through or ON games or toys. And.. I do.  I need to just step up and start DOING instead of bitching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids have caught onto the bitching as "she's annoyed with us and we'll scurry around and get busy, but really, we're so not doing this on our own, and she'll mellow out soon and go back to playing her game, and then we'll be able to get back to doing whatever it is we were doing before she rudely interrupted us with this nonsensical 'cleaning' thing she keeps making us do." Or... something like that. But its no one's fault but mine that my children don't clean. They know I hate to do it myself, and that if they put it off long enough, there WILL be a blow up, nagging, then they can just do whatever. *sigh* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every journey starts with a step.. blah blah.. yeah yeah, I know. I KNOW, but... dammit, I'm a stubborn ass. Totally, and I KNOW it. I know that I will do the exact opposite of what someone expects me to do if they push hard enough. I chalk it up to "YOURE NOT THE BOSS OF ME."  Think I'll ever grow out of it? *shrug* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yeah, a full month of my head up my butt, and I'm coming back around.. mostly, and I'll stick it right back up there, because once you get used to the stink, you don't mind it too much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had another point to make, but apparently this post wanted to be about my lack of parenting. It's hard to take an identity out of growing children into adults for me. I just.. I donno. Some people are called to that. I don't think I'm one of those people, so I have to do the best I can with what I got. So, we buy new sheets and comforters (yeah, we probably didn't NEED them, but we GOT them), new shoes (yeah, they did need them) and laundry soap. After the bill comes up, we're looking at -$450 but happy kids. It's a balancing act. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blah blah.. etc. I think i'll go to bed, and just call this post good. I didn't accomplish anything by this, I didn't learn anything new, or make some extraordinary revelation. I just posted what was in my head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scary place, huh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-2690971575029478719?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/2690971575029478719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=2690971575029478719' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2690971575029478719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2690971575029478719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/03/blah-blah-biddity-boo.html' title='Blah blah biddity Boo'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7060783853385248675</id><published>2009-03-03T21:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T21:49:18.871-08:00</updated><title type='text'>*Runs screaming from room*</title><content type='html'>So.. teenagers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. I was one, and I know I sucked out loud. Just got the progress report for the oldest. B-, C-, D+, C, A, A, A   Anyone want to guess what the A's are in.. if you picked electives and PE, you get a gold star and a tart gummy bear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I unloaded on her. Both barels, and I was. Not. Nice.  No, I was downright mean. I regret it, and part of me thinks she's had it coming.. but.. really do any of us 'have it coming' when we get chewed out? probably not, and she probably didn't either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I CANT CARE MORE ABOUT THIS THAN YOU CAN!" And.. I mean that, even when I lost my temper and called her an idiot (ouch... Jesus, how much of my mother's rants did *I* forget?).  She's NOT an idiot.  She's a bright, funny, smart bubbly girl.  Only, she picks the wrong people to hang with.. a girl who cuts herself.. a boy who has ZERO interest in her, yet she's over the moon about... :( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.. teenager years.. I DO remember the angst, the heartache and the stupidity.  I don't think my mother yelled at me the way I have yelled at her. :( I regret that and wish I were a less impatient person.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also wish I knew how to motivate her to JUST DO HER DAMN HOMEWORK. Seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are no answers to this, and the "you're a bad parent, just be a good one" people can bite my shiny metal ass. I'm doing the best I can.. Actually, I'm doing BETTER than *I* can most of the time, and I DO fall flat on my face, but by gum, I get up, dust myself off, and get going again, because *I* have NO other option. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I do better than I am doing? Yes. Will I do better than I am doing?  Most of the time. Is it any of your damn business? No, but this is MY BLOG.. AND IT's ALL ABOUT ME! (winks at Krista) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I'm going to survive the next 14 years is beyond me. Oh lord... Heh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7060783853385248675?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7060783853385248675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7060783853385248675' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7060783853385248675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7060783853385248675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/03/runs-screaming-from-room.html' title='*Runs screaming from room*'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8034958477933322116</id><published>2009-02-24T21:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T21:44:08.555-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Must.. keep... hope..</title><content type='html'>This is going to have to become my dogged mantra. I recently told The Boy that if you can't change circumstances, you have to accept them. Change encompasses a broad array of options, by the way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Typically, when faced with trauma, no matter the type, I freak out, avoid dealing with it, freak out some more, then come to a place of resolve where I trust that the universe won't give me the proverbial shaft. I'm forcing myself to go to the zen state, because frankly, I don't like myself very much right now. I'm irritable, lazy and pissy. And I have been kinda bitchy to The Boy. And I know he needs me right now.  And I feel like a total jerkface.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want very much for things to go my way, and right now, they just don't LOOK like they are.  Looks are often deceiving, and unfortunately, I am NOT a patient person. I'm going to have to work on that. ;( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want... I want a lot of things, and to ME, none of them feel extravagent or extreme. I want to be loved, first and foremost, and right now, I don't LIKE myself all the time, so that makes the being LOVED thing harder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I totally hope that I am not becoming a spineless girl creature who bases her self-worth upon the acceptance of a man, because I've done that before, bought the T-Shirt, wore it out.. etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCREW THAT. But dammit, I want The Boy to go to bed with me tonight, and to wake up with me tomorrow morning. IS that too much to want? Sigh. who knows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michigan feels pretty flippin' far away right about now. c'mon tax return... speed your way to me so I can get back on even keel and schedule my  trip back east. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, is that asking too much again? I can never tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have any spare hope laying around (it's okay, leftover hope is still good, just like roll-over minutes), toss some my way. I may not catch it right away, but I promise not to complain too much if it slaps me in the face.  Especially if it makes a splatty sound when it hits me. Then it's just good fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8034958477933322116?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8034958477933322116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8034958477933322116' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8034958477933322116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8034958477933322116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/02/must-keep-hope.html' title='Must.. keep... hope..'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-5467674836442862373</id><published>2009-01-28T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T22:19:24.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>That still, small voice</title><content type='html'>You know how you feel a tugging leading you to do something? Yeah, been having that. I don't feel drawn to change careers, or to do something ambitious or crazy different.  I feel drawn to my children and a strong need that I need to get back to what I began over Christmas break. The simplest answer is sometimes the most correct one. I'm getting lazy again, the housework is backing up, I'm plopping down at the desk right when I get in, or I'm talking to a friend late into the evening.  I should be walking in, getting the lay of the land and getting to work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately when I revisit what I CAN do against everything my Ex does, I come back to the kids.. I cannot shield them from his garbage, but I can most certainly shield them from MY Garbage, and lately, my garbage is that I haven't been cleaning my house. How SILLY is that? I don't function well in clutter and chaos. Maybe it's a fault, but I kinda think that it's fairly normal for most people. 'Fix what you can, let God sort out the rest." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By golly, it's pretty darn good advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Edited:  Wow. I didn't cuss ONCE. *blink blink* Man, he IS Taming my fierceness)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-5467674836442862373?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/5467674836442862373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=5467674836442862373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5467674836442862373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5467674836442862373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/01/that-still-small-voice.html' title='That still, small voice'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-3555924928080432461</id><published>2009-01-26T22:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T22:21:40.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Try not to spite the face..</title><content type='html'>Perhaps this a mark of maturity and acceptance of the mantle of "mother", but recently I've become aware that I have a child about to turn 14 in less than 5 months. That means in 4 years and 5 months I will have a child who is graduating High School. I will not be 40 then. HOLY CRIPES! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the last .. however many years, I have been running a mental count down to when I will be emancipated from my children, and everyone around me keeps saying "it will end faster than you think, don't miss anything" and suddenly I'm seeing the wisdom. In 4 years, I will have a child hurtling toward adulthood and independance.  A child who will probably think they are way more mature and 'with it' than they really are, a child who will probably roll her eyes at me and ignore every bit of sage advice from the "Hey, kiddo, I've BEEN THERE" column.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Jees. I have to say that yes, I think I'm finally ready for this task that I'm doing. Lord help me and give me the strength not to screw it up on an epic scale.  Remember, we have 5 of them to raise and release into the wild, and #5 goes by the nickname "Cute Demon Baby." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God help us all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-3555924928080432461?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/3555924928080432461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=3555924928080432461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3555924928080432461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3555924928080432461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/01/try-not-to-spite-face.html' title='Try not to spite the face..'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-9191681691970131428</id><published>2009-01-26T00:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T00:36:16.548-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fair Just Left Town.</title><content type='html'>So, yeah, mom was right "life isn't fair" and it's just so true. It doesn't cushion the blow or make it suck any less, though. The Ex has been a real ass lately. I am getting child support now, thanks to wage garnishment. The overnights every other weekend have stopped though. I'm coming to peace with losing my personal time and space, but what I cannot come to peace with is the turmoil and pain it's causing my children. He no longer has a car that transports all 5 of our children (can you BELIEVE he wanted 10?) so he will pick and choose who he's taking when the weather looks "iffy." If he doesn't take the 5 seater, he makes them walk everywhere. At his pace. And it's not just my children whining, when I lived with him, he never walked my pace, and I had to run to keep up with him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if they're not hoofing it (not in and of itself a bad thing), he picks and chooses who goes. Often it's my oldest. They haven't gotten along since the divorce, and thanks to his way of treating her (either he's treating her like she's stupid or terrible, or he's pretending she doesn't exist), we are going through therapy and treating with mild anti-depressants. We (my friends and I) knew that his interest would wane, and eventually he would disappear. Coming from his abuse myself, I didn't really think this would be a BAD thing, but I'm watching my children hurt from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the one who is going to be hurt MOST by all of this is Isabella, because she's his favorite. She always goes with him, and tonight she was snotty about what she and her younger sister got to do. She felt bad when I told her it was pretty crappy for her to gloat about her day when no one else was INVITED. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know. Life isn't fair. I have asked to have his visitation curtailed. I have asked what I can do. I can't do anything. IT SUCKS. I'm tired of being asked why they didn't get to go, why he didn't call. When they WANT to see him, he doesn't want to take them. My son said "Its like he hates us"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT do you say to that? where's my correct answer? I felt myself fumbling for anything besides "Daddy's an asshole, honey" All I could say was I'm sorry, and that I understand why he's upset. At least his cat loves him best. But the boy was hurting. He's on the cusp of puberty, and his one male role model has been abandoning him. He doesn't feel comfortable talking to him about the confusion he feels. I'm very clear in telling him that it's okay if he DOES want to talk to his dad - he's certainly more an expert on THE CHANGE in boys than *I* am. Yet he says no, then asks small questions of me. I read and help him understand to the best of my ability, but if you don't own the equipment...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that life isn't fair, and I know that my children will come to learn this in time, but it's a hard lesson to let them learn. Especially when it comes from one of the people who SHOULD love them best. I pray that God gives me the strength to do this daily. My anger has calmed a lot, and the wildness has diminished, but I feel like I'm a long way from a 'good' mom. That hurts, because these people deserve me to love them and be patient, and I think I'm largely doing a better job lately. All I can do is improve, but I can't help but feel like I'm failing them somehow by not doing SOMETHING to stop his shenanigans. IS there more I should be doing? AM I being a jackass and missing the most basic thing? Telling him "you will take everyone, or you won't take ANYONE" Maybe I should try that, but I fear getting into trouble. I'm so scared of doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. GAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I KNEW what I need to do here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-9191681691970131428?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/9191681691970131428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=9191681691970131428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/9191681691970131428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/9191681691970131428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/01/fair-just-left-town.html' title='The Fair Just Left Town.'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-5541393070367259795</id><published>2009-01-10T00:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T00:35:02.871-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is this thing still on?</title><content type='html'>Well, HI!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amember me?! Life has sucked me in, held me close, gave me a wedgie and then turned me loose before it could give me a 'brown eye.' (if you don't know what that is, be grateful you didn't have a crass older cousin)  I have had some joys - 2 weeks off, albeit self-paid thanks to budget crises and a mandatory furlough; one helluva Christmas (thanks Jesus!), a reconnection to my mom who I didn't realize I'd missed.  I've also had setbacks - my ex stopped taking the kids on overnights, blaming me for him becoming homeless (I'm a bloodsucking bitch, draining him dry via child support and court fees he's brought on himself) and that means no down time or days off.  Initially, I am embarassed to admit to being pissy about it.  After 3 months with NO breaks from my children, I've come back to the "Hey, it's what it is" zen of parenting. It's hard, it's messy, it's discouraging at times, but it's MINE.  These are MY children. Instilling in them traits that I can be proud of is something I have lost sight of. After 2 weeks of them constantly in my face, I'm reminded of my long-term goal.. releasing them into the wild as productive human beings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from the Ex being stubborn and dragging his feet - we had a settlement drawn up where all he had to do was sign and be DONE, he wouldn't owe anything else and wouldn't need to DO anythign else, and the idiot didn't do it, so NOW we get to go back for round... Um... yeah, 45? in the court, whereby we ask for more money because he's being a dipshit and not signing papers.  See, I'm hardcore into the notion of not being Susanne TYLER anymore.. I'd like to go back to my maiden name, Brorby. It's mine, ain't no one  take it from me! Anyway, back to the initial rant here.. Aside from him being a dipshit, I haven't had too many bumps in the road, or if I have I have come to a place where I can weather them and not freak the hell out. Much.. often. Okay, i freak out better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm blessed and grateful. I feel like if I expound upon it I will lose some meaning, but suffice it to say that I am grateful for my fortunes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope the new year has been good to everyone - it's been ROUGH. SO rough for so many. For those who are jobless, or soon to be jobless, I'm pulling for you. God speed his blessings to you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*lighting a candle*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-5541393070367259795?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/5541393070367259795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=5541393070367259795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5541393070367259795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5541393070367259795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2009/01/is-this-thing-still-on.html' title='Is this thing still on?'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-190921553030587604</id><published>2008-11-08T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T19:44:26.757-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Up to my eyeballs in alligators</title><content type='html'>So, yeah. I think the title says most of what I'm feeling. It's always something. I think though, something happened that I wasn't aware of. I turned my back on the alligators. I know that I have adopted the feeling of "I'm busy, overwhelmed. It's hard." and I have dropped the ball in my life. The bad thing about being the only one running the show is that you're to blame if it goes wrong. the GOOD thing about being the only one running the show is that you're the only one to blame. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been looking at the long list of negatives and accepting them as creed. I'm a single parent of 5 kids, I have a deadbeat ex, I have too many bills and not enough money, I live in a house too small for 6 people..  Well, those are ALL true, but I don't look at the positives. I AM a single parent, and that means that I can parent my children as *I* want, not how someone else expects me to.  For many people they have a great partner to help with child rearing and you're all on the same page, but there are MANY times that's not true. But, I don't ever have to argue with anyone about the day to day mechanics of my life, and I haven't accepted that yet - what the hell? am I stupid? Dude, run with it! I do have a deadbeat ex. That means that should I ever remarry and have a step parent for the kids, the ex won't have much influence over the mix. Granted, if I remarry, I'm gonna have to go back to statement #1. I'll deal with that when I get to it. I have too many bills. Well, guess what, #'s 1 &amp; 2 are involved with this - I can scale back my expenses and no one can tell me which need to stay or go. Hmm..... I live in a house too small for 6 people. Well, maybe, but these people are gonna have some killer interpersonal skills. And maybe if I get off my ass and start taking charge of my life again, they'll learn that they don't need as much to be happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a work in progress, but when I went to the customer service seminar on Thursday, I took away a LOT of personal information, just like on Tuesday when I had my class on time management and organization. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The key here is I haven't found what works for me. That's pretty big. I keep operating on systems that I didn't develop. I'm stressed out because I keep ignoring things I need to do. That doesn't work. Never has, never will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, baby steps. But the biggest one is how to deal with my 13 year old when I want to be as far away from her as I can get. I think teenagerdom is meant to enable us to let them go. But - somehow I doubt it's meant to make us want to kill them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that Jean Steele said during our seminar is that in your interactions with people, if 3 /4 of them you feel everyone is an asshole, it's YOU, not them. Guess that shit that's stinking is coming from me. DAMN!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-190921553030587604?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/190921553030587604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=190921553030587604' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/190921553030587604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/190921553030587604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/11/up-to-my-eyeballs-in-alligators.html' title='Up to my eyeballs in alligators'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-4629886102572975634</id><published>2008-11-04T22:16:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T22:33:55.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>California, you broke my heart!</title><content type='html'>I want you, I need you, but there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you - but don't feel sad, 2 out of 3 ain't bad.  Only, when it comes to fundamental civil rights, it is. I'm typing this up the night of the most important election in the history of our country. Congratulations to Mr. President-elect Obama. Yes we can, and we have. On the issue of abortion in minors - it looks like we have changed. Minors will be protected by being provided with access to abortion - in a time where young people are lost and desperately seeking acceptance and a way to belong, they can make mistakes. Some mistakes are too costly to be used as a teaching tool. When you're 14, seeking love and acceptance and you make a mistake, an unplanned pregnancy, the last thing in the world you need is someone saying "you made your bed, now lie in it" I doubt at 14 anyone has the faculties to make responsible decisions - forcing them to have a child is preposterous. Even if you look at it from the adoption standpoint, this child is still growing and maturing. To carry a baby to term is so incredibly taxing - there's a reason women died in childbirth, and it wasn't just lack of medical care, women had children young - like 14 years old young. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If a child is going to have sex without your approval (I do NOT know ANY parents who want their 14 year old having sex), they certainly aren't going to tell you about a pregnancy, because they KNOW they're in over their head.  ANd if they want to abort that baby, they will go about it - in any means necessary. Drano, coat hangers... they may sound like antiquated scare tactics from bad afterschool specials, but the fact is if your child wants to have sex bad enough and gets pregnant from it, they might want to have an abortion bad enough to go about it in unsafe ways - some of which leave them barren. It's not about permission, it's about protection of our daughters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, this proposition seems to be denied (it would force doctors to contact patients parents 48 hours before an abortion is performed. I'm pretty sure that most of those girls don't come from swell families.) And I am proud of people reading it for what it is and protecting our girls. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Prop 8. Oh God. Please... PLEASE tell me that all the 'no' votes haven't been counted. Please tell me that this state which went blue as SOON as the polls closed didn't turn their back on a very real social class of people. Please tell me that just because we have become better at being colorblind that we haven't begun to discriminate against Same-Sex couples. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;California, people look to us to be progressive and forward. We carry the largest amount of electoral votes in this great union of ours. How can you turn your back on a community that is as much a part of you as Hollywood, wine country, earthquakes, sunshine, oranges and silicone valley? Maybe a lot of our policies are conservative, but I fail to see why the definition of marriage is between a man and a woman. That doesn't make it any more binding, lasting, loving, productive, supportive or permanent than it being between two consenting adults. It doesn't mean it's between a man and 2 women, or a man and a child, or a woman and a dog/donkey/goat/sheep/living doll *Ahem* It also doesn't guarantee lasting committment. I was a woman, he a man, and my marriage didn't last. My marriage was abusive, hurtful and disrespectful. It didn't stop him from cheating on me, in my home, where my children lived. It didn't stop me from being run down to almost nothingness under his boot heel. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage is a legal union between two consenting adults. It's a civil partnership. And while most marriages take place in a church and are consecrated by God and their religion, it doesn't necessarily imply morality. Not too long ago (about 40 years ago, actually) whites could not marry anything but whites. How limiting. How disgusting, but how similar. It's not for government to decide who can or cannot be happy and enjoy a union. Same sex marriages are not viewed with the same social status as traditional marriage, and it CERTAINLY is NOT taught in school. My children MUST be in the 4% that does NOT teach marriage as part of the curriculum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, California, by morning, please have proven this post moot, I would enjoy nothing less than deleting this post because I jumped the gun and posted this before the polls were all decided.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-4629886102572975634?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/4629886102572975634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=4629886102572975634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4629886102572975634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4629886102572975634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/11/california-you-broke-my-heart.html' title='California, you broke my heart!'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8851665105668766166</id><published>2008-11-04T21:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T21:26:52.884-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Obama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='election'/><title type='text'>Yes we can!!!</title><content type='html'>I want to hug America. Thank you. The long nightmare is going to end. Thank God for your courage for change. Thank you for the faith and strength to stand up and say "YES WE CAN CHANGE!"  "YES WE CAN!!!"  YES WE CAN!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God bless America, we will need it for the work ahead, but what wonderful work it will be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8851665105668766166?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8851665105668766166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8851665105668766166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8851665105668766166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8851665105668766166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/11/yes-we-can.html' title='Yes we can!!!'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8752460522393004705</id><published>2008-11-03T18:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T19:42:29.551-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='election'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rights'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='equality'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vote'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='freedom'/><title type='text'>I choose YOU!</title><content type='html'>I'd like to talk about Tomorrow. *the capital letter was intentional, because Tomorrow is election day* Tomorrow is possibly one of THE biggest days for our country. I'm from California, so we have Prop 8. Now, we have a lot of other propositions too, and they all boil down to money, but the thing with Prop 8 is that it will ban a law that currently exists in California - they right for gays to choose to be married. People have been saying "Vote YES! they're going to teach our children how to be teh ghey!!" that we teach marriage in school (where the FUCK did they dredge up THAT bullshit?). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you look at it for what it is, you either belong to the camp of "them goddam niggers" or you belong to "What the fuck, dude" party. If you substitute "interracial" for "homosexual" in the campaigns, your blood either boils or you agree with the sentiment - that only white anglosaxon protestants (Awww, why not, we'll include them goddamn Catholics, but only because they hate them damn gheys) deserve 'equality' that is, as long as the people you are equal to are exactly the same as you in social status, religion and looks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FUCK THAT SHIT.  Equality MEANS Equality. Not "equal to or greater than". This ain't no math class. I'm heartsick with the idea that the rights currently available to PEOPLE in California will be gone as of tomorrow. It's disgusting and wrong that their best defense is that "they teach it to our children"  I heard a commercial on the way home about "One school even took their class to a lesbian wedding and called it a 'teaching experience.'" Excuse me?  Where the fuck did THAT come from? was it a charter school? or perhaps a granola coop of hippy lesbians (By the way, I'm down with you girls.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it morally reprehensible to try and change people's minds by using children as a tactic. If the school took my children to a straight marriage, I'd be fucking pissed as shit. Who the fuck takes children to a fucking wedding as part of a curriculum? HOW does it apply toward learning? Don't EVEN fucking try and teach my kids morality. That's my fucking job, and I'll fucking cuss while I fucking do it if I fucking feel like I fucking need to. Fucking cookie? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also am very, VERY scared that the regime that has had the stranglehold on our country for the last 8 years will continue with the prospect of McCain (Oh, I had respect for you once) and Palin (Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? I have 5 kids and manage everything with little/no help. Does that qualify me? I probably have the same population as your back asswards podunk Alaskan town).  Maybe Obama isn't going to be the be-all, cure-all for the country, and I think it's going to get a bit worse before it gets better - because we have idiots who think that uppity niggers shouldn't be in charge. FUCK YOU, by the way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*this political rant brought to you by a woman who has been put under extreme amounts of stress for FAR TOO FUCKING LONG*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short, vote your conscience, don't vote because you think you're in the minority. Vote because you KNOW we need to change. Vote because you know that things are NOT okay in the status-quo, vote to protect the freedom and rights that we claim we have. Vote because we have already come SO FAR, we can't turn back and hide in the cave again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8752460522393004705?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8752460522393004705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8752460522393004705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8752460522393004705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8752460522393004705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-choose-you.html' title='I choose YOU!'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7598779793231938652</id><published>2008-09-29T23:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T23:06:25.116-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='finances'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Economy'/><title type='text'>Jesus God.</title><content type='html'>Someone hold me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7598779793231938652?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7598779793231938652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7598779793231938652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7598779793231938652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7598779793231938652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/09/jesus-god.html' title='Jesus God.'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7004440674137477955</id><published>2008-09-21T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:41:32.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And I Know I'll Always be Blessed With Love</title><content type='html'>So, this was supposed to be the weekend I'd go to see Scott and meet his people. Life has conspired against me on this. I've come to trust that there's a reason for things happening. Usually when I don't understand them, when I'm most scared or unsure is when I begin to rail against them. So, no trip. At least not right now. Maybe there's still more for me to learn to become permanently self-reliant and independent. Actually, I know I have more work to do on myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do feel that I have already come so very far in myself. I have a lot less "Oh my God, I can't do this" moments (they still happen, but way less). Money still stresses me out more than I care to admit (and I admit to alot). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was going to be a wreck, and truthfully, Friday I had my moments, but they were offset by the kindness and friendship of the people in my life. From refusing to let me pay for dinner, to just being there to listen, I am blessed. In many directions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty cool, huh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7004440674137477955?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7004440674137477955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7004440674137477955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7004440674137477955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7004440674137477955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/09/and-i-know-ill-always-be-blessed-with.html' title='And I Know I&apos;ll Always be Blessed With Love'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-1497658253533185616</id><published>2008-09-14T22:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T22:30:21.568-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tolerance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pondering'/><title type='text'>Tolerance</title><content type='html'>I was thinking the other day about the concept of 'tolerance.' In light of the coming election, those of us with liberal bends tend to hanker toward certain aspects of agendas - gay rights, equality (women, colors, beliefs, sexual preference), abortion, taxes (who doesn't want to know where our money is going to end up?), foreign policy... the usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In thinking about that, I was struck by something.. it ended up being unpleasant, because it made me play 'devil's advocate'. If tolerance is a goal to strive for, how realistic is it to draw a line. A man beats his wife, or cheats on her. We tend to reject that out of hand, because it violates basic human rights. But, if he came from a belief system where women are less than human, we are now 'intolerant' to his religion and culture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does the line get drawn because we don't want the same fate? Because our belief system is so different from that it cannot support, not tolerate it? Having come from a destructive and abusive marriage, I can't support domestic violence or abuse of any kind. Am I intolerant because my belief system has been corrupted by my own experiences? I'd like to think not. I'd like to think that my intolerance of cruelty is because abuse is unacceptable. Abuse of any kind - power, trust.. the physical, emotional and mental forms of interpersonal abuse. I like to think that my intolerance is that not only can I not condone that abuse, but that I can't abide it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never go out of my way to bomb the opposing party, but I also won't be holding signs for them either. I won't be voting for them or laying down in front of them so they can use me as a bridge to step on. (sorry Jesus, I know that I'm supposed to love my enemy as I'd love myself, and according to Corinthians' definition of love, I am violating that.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps, though, I am confusing tolerance with acceptance. I will be watching to see what will unfold for the future of our nation, for the future of my children and family, and for the future of fairness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-1497658253533185616?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/1497658253533185616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=1497658253533185616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1497658253533185616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1497658253533185616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/09/tolerance.html' title='Tolerance'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8033045205040486709</id><published>2008-09-11T22:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T22:30:55.897-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Various song titles apply</title><content type='html'>Nostalgia is a powerful thing. Everyone has different things that trigger memories and emotional responses tied to them. Currently, the changing of summer to fall has begun to trigger emotions for me. This time last year, My Scott and I were headed to couplehood. He worked nights at a radio station, and being in Michigan, it kinda lined up with my post-children time of night. Things change - it's part of life. He no longer works nights, and the 3 hour time difference that once made it possible to be together now works against us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, we have emails, phone calls and messages through Myspace.com. It's not quite the same though.. seeing his face on camera, reacting to my silliness, SEEING how he felt, Oh, I do miss that a lot. Of course, June was even better than that, but for the longest time, IMing through MSN was the only way we had to connect to each other, and it worked for us, and losing that hurt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, through the distance and absence, I don't feel like I lost him. I don't feel like we are headed to a breakdown. If the chemistry I felt with him wasn't just sleep deprivation induced, this is just a waiting period. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, feelings of fall are hope. The nervous twitter and promise of a future. It's warmth, comfort and a strong abiding love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8033045205040486709?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8033045205040486709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8033045205040486709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8033045205040486709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8033045205040486709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/09/various-song-titles-apply.html' title='Various song titles apply'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-9031251813980433419</id><published>2008-09-02T22:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T19:28:42.187-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='divorce'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='finances'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gripes'/><title type='text'>Minor victories</title><content type='html'>I won a battle today. I wouldn't say I won the war, but I'll take the minor victories where I score them. I had divorce court today, and the matters being heard were establishing spousal support and requesting some attorney fees (as he's been dragging this out). Both of which were granted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't expect to see a dime of that money, which really is a shame, since that means we will have to file contempt charges against the ex in the beginning of October. In the meantime, I scored a court victory. Cool beans. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In professional matters, my coworker came back from maternity leave. She moved into my old cubicle (it was her cubicle before she went on leave) and I moved into the office. I have more than MIXED feelings about this. Actually, the ONLY upside I have seen so far is that I have a big window and can put many plants in there. YAY PLANTS!she was very cool about it, which was a relief after the lead in I had been given by the former coworker about this event. I'm happy to say there is NO drama. We intend on keeping it that way, and The New Girl is more than cool. YAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Professionally, things are okay, only I'm a little worried about being in The Office and what it meant before. I don't want to be a 'lead' person - Our supervisor has made it clear it won't happen. I also don't want to be totally isolated from the rest of the office - I have come to realize I thrive on the co working interaction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm giving it a wait and see, and I always freak out about things and make them way worse than they end up being. I find it's pleasant to find the outcome less horrific. my friends probably wish I'd get the hell over it, and I apologize to them for my freak-outishness. After my stressful and emotionally challenging day, my good friend has offered to get me drunk this weekend. I think I may just take her up on it. :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In personal matters, my sweetie gave me some of his time to listen to me and support me. I am very appreciative of this, and I KNOW that it's important to disconnect in the evening. He took the time to listen to me and even though I offered to let him get back to his disconnecting, he chose me over his game. Damn I love this guy. :D &lt;br /&gt;He even sent me a couple messages through the day to help boost me. I'm sad to say I didn't get to see them before I left work, but they still touched me. :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, onto Friday, where we go back to court to fight for child support (I have the county representing me on this, so my attorney isn't involved. It was in effort to save money).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The higher, the fewer!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-9031251813980433419?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/9031251813980433419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=9031251813980433419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/9031251813980433419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/9031251813980433419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/09/minor-victories.html' title='Minor victories'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8668059090950177628</id><published>2008-08-30T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T19:36:38.117-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*blink blink*</title><content type='html'>So, I have this &lt;a href="http://blog.kkorner.net/"&gt;friend&lt;/a&gt; Who is not only smart, dedicated, knowledgeable, a good mother and has a wicked sense of style, but also happens to be a very VERY good writer. I often have moments where I read something I like and realize that I am SO not a 'good' writer. Maybe it's lack of edumacation, or too many video games and TV. (However, I think I can KICK HER BUTT at playing Super Mario Bros. Yeah. I went there.) I'm constantly honored to be her friend, and often wonder why the HELL she puts up with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that she has such a passion for her industry, a dedication to change, and such noble goals. I also love that sometimes she can just hang and drink beer with the best of 'em. I am inspired, encouraged and impressed by her on a constant basis, and am so very VERY glad that she has decided to begin blogging again. YAY!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also love that her &lt;a href="http://elmocho.livejournal.com/"&gt;fiancee&lt;/a&gt; is a good writer and that he journals regularly. I talk to him on a near daily basis and am impressed by how smart and quirky he is, NOT TO MENTION his vast knowledge of pens and harpsichords. I totally enjoy conversations with him, no matter WHERE they end up going to, and I like that he makes my friend so very happy. I thrill to the freakay love, yo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, like, the purpose of all this, you ask? I'm wondering if maybe I do too much freaking out and not enough just talking. Freaking out is part of the human experience, of course, but I feel like I've come over to this blog-o-mine and only talked about 2 topics this summer. I'm realizing that I'm not a very good conversationalist, and that it's probably dull as hell to talk to me, since I either talk about how crappy life is, or how much I love or miss my boyfriend. That seems pretty lame to limit myself to a couple topics. The sad part about realizing that is that I think it means I really don't KNOW a lot. I know how to survive, hope and dream. I know how to bitch and piss and moan, but I think I'm pretty frickin' uninteresting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe letting myself go because of the past being so damn craptacular fostered that ... quitting in me, I don't really know, but I know it's pretty lame. I guess I should start picking subjects to learn and just GO! Or maybe I'm just entertaining. Because I'll walk into walls - that don't move. When I'm sober. In the light of day. In front of people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, good times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8668059090950177628?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8668059090950177628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8668059090950177628' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8668059090950177628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8668059090950177628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/08/blink-blink.html' title='*blink blink*'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8376679842037959150</id><published>2008-08-28T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T19:47:10.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking for turnips</title><content type='html'>Can I seriously stop being tested? I mean, seriously? I feel like every month I'm frantically struggling just to keep above water. If not for the help of my family and friends.. well, I'd not like to THINK about that. I make decent money for a woman back in the workplace 2 years after I'd been out 11. In theory, I could survive on my paycheck, if I lived in an apartment, didn't have children, didn't go out and do stuff... in theory, I could even live comfortably. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I have 5 kids. And I only have one paycheck. It gets to where I nearly break down and cry when I think about it, so I avoid thinking about it like the plague, but I am doing this on my own, 5 kids, and just me. No, I don't get spousal support, OR child support. Yes, I'm awaiting judgement. Yes, I should get support. No, I don't think I'm going to see a penny. Why? because in March I finally received a notice from Child Support that the Ex owed me 2200 a month for 5 children, based on the difference in incomes and the amount of custody. He was given 30 days to respond, and I didn't hear anything until June. He contested the amount, using his attorney. We were set to go to court July 25th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July 25th rolls around and he didn't show. Turns out that the county didn't notice his attorney. I would imagine it's not uncommon to make that kind of mistake as lawyers don't typically represent clients in a support case. They go by hard numbers, and arguing doesn't change the judgement - much. Well, they pushed us back to next week, the same week that we go to court for spousal support. The Ex changed attorneys, and I'm not sure the county was notified. I'm worried and apprehensive about where this is going to go. I'm also tired of struggling, keeping my head above water and seeing my Ex spend money on himself while our children sleep on mattresses on the floor (only the girls do this, to be fair, but still.. when you SAY you have no money and eat at KFC while feeding the kids hamburger helper, you need to rethink your idea of "no money). I'm tired of things being disproportionately skewed in favor of him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that "he'll get his" but in the meantime, *I* am doing QUITE enough 'getting' for more than 2 people. I know that Karma is the boomerang you don't have to throw, and that what goes around comes around. But dammit. I'm human and I'm tired and scared and lonely and discouraged. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully this is the bottom falling out before the relief comes, but I am so very doubtful that he will ever do anything right by his children, or ME that I can't even anticipate next week being beneficial. I look at it more as another drop in the bucket of stressors. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm worried about what the next step is when my Ex doesn't pay. The bills keep coming. My pay will be lowered starting next month (thank you, furlough) and the bills won't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not sure what relief there IS, but... somehow, it WILL come, it always does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8376679842037959150?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8376679842037959150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8376679842037959150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8376679842037959150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8376679842037959150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/08/looking-for-turnips.html' title='Looking for turnips'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-4584867732269071356</id><published>2008-08-03T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T14:41:35.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What the?</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I don't often remember dreams, but I JUSt woke up from a very deep nap and this little gem was at the forefront of my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the dream, I am still with my ex husband, Anthony (hereafter referred to as A).  I am working in a huge highrise building, and somehow it comes up that he wants to storm the building and kill people in it. He morphs into a giant demon who shoots everyone and kills them. I never SEE the carnage, but it's implied that it's a fact that it happens.  There is blood, but no bodies, and I don't see his method of murder. I do hear people scream.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, I do not try to stop his beahavior and behave like a toady.  I'm yessing him as he's recounting how funny it was to see people scream and run and hide. I don't feel good about it, but I'm still doing it *TSK TSK TSK*.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anthony goes on another rampage, bigger, taller, scarier, more demonic. He's laughing about how he's going to give it to them, that they're all worthless pieces of crap and deserve it. I am following him, as before, but I sneak down to a level he's already covered, and use the restroom, to begin my escape. I decide I can't do this, and have to get away from him, from all the destruction.  Another stall is occupied by a security guard.  How she's not full on freaked out is beyond me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I jump to me leaving the building carrying a gun.. it looks pretty friggin fake to me in my dream, but it's accepted as a real gun. The security guard from the bathroom had followed me out, asks me about the gun, which was carried in a binocular case at first, but it changes to a gun holster during this part of the dream. She's wondering if I can carry the gun, and all that. She finds A, who is standing a bit away from where I'm at and is implied as 'in charge' of not just the situation, but me, as well. He's morphed back into his normal looking self, looks over to me, and walks back with the security guard to me.  He hands me back my gun with a very level look and says that I am a certified guard, and I can carry (In real life, I was a certified security guard for California, although I didn't have a carry license).  The guard reluctantly hands me back my gun, and A never breaks his eye contact with me. I have this feeling of dread that I've been found out, then wake up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-4584867732269071356?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/4584867732269071356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=4584867732269071356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4584867732269071356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4584867732269071356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/08/what.html' title='What the?'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8018658474887126800</id><published>2008-07-24T06:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T07:06:48.767-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OUCH</title><content type='html'>So, yesterday, I only got 4 1/2 hours sleep. That's my own fault, as I was up late playing a game with The Boy.  When I got to work, I noticed my neck was stiff, and took a few advil and moved on (as I often do.)  Well, last night, I crashed hard, went to bed and slept... probably until 2am, when I woke up with my neck screaming at me.  Every time I would move, I winced, and it wasn't until I rolled to my back that I could fall back asleep. I woke as soon as I tried to roll to my side (I usually sleep that way). So, I'm tired, cranky and in pain. Hopefully the advil and tylenol coctail I took this morning knocks some of it out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grumble grumble&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8018658474887126800?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8018658474887126800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8018658474887126800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8018658474887126800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8018658474887126800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/07/ouch.html' title='OUCH'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8975498603785353156</id><published>2008-07-15T21:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T21:57:53.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monsters in the Closet</title><content type='html'>The further away from The Dark Time I get, the more aware I become of what existed with me during that time in shadow.  I can't help but feel like it's a testament to the amount of healing and growth I have gone through.  I'll have glimpses of remembrance and be struck by the absurdity of it.  If I hadn't lived through it, I'd have to swear I was exaggerating. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It makes me sad to realize what I endured. The abuse of it. I may have never been struck physically, but when your spouse is complaining that his girlfriend doesn't do things that you do, or when he's describing her physical assets with rapture, while your broken down body wilts before him.. you have to wonder, do you NEED to be physically struck to be abused? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's shameful to remember, so I don't do it often.  I'm an intelligent person, and I don't thrive on conflict or strife, I just endure it.  To admit that my 'story' is as... well, stupid as it is, it's shameful and embarassing. I wish I could just lie and say "he was an alcoholic drunk, he beat me and was about to start beating the children".. people understand that. They think "well, you stayed because you wanted to protect the kids, and when he got violent toward them, you left, nothing wrong there" and they can accept it.  To say "My highschool sweetheart was never truly happy with me, I was never thin enough, pretty enough, good enough for him, but I stuck by him anyway, and he got me pregnant.  I stayed, tried to make the marriage work, and all the while, he was harping on my weight, and wanted me to let him have a girlfriend, as he'd never gotten to enjoy his youth.  After years of being told this littany over and over again, I consented, thinking the girl would grow tired and go away. We had 5 kids together, and even after breaking my arm, being resigned to sleeping on the couch while he slept with his girlfriend in my bed (which I didn't discourage or try to prevent), I still tried. He got me to agree to walk away and leave my children with him, and I snapped, took the kids and went to a women's shelter"  That all sounds so fucking pathetic to me.  Maybe I'm not being kind enough to that 'self' Maybe I'm over judging becuase I can't quite understand how I'd allow it all to happen, or not leave sooner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.  I do know that I realized something from reading that summary though - I slept on the couch and let him have the girlfriend move in because I was so tired of being 'not good enough' that I gave up. I just gave up, gave in and just... I quit, because I couldn't understand a better way to cope against the abuse.  It was my rebellion, my weapon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't entirely powerless, no, but I couldn't understand that then.  Maybe that's why flashes of my former self visit this current self.  And I imagine in about 5 years, that current self will look back at this 'past' self and realize why I'm 30lbs overweight for me. Hell, I think I realize it now. I just hope I learn to forgive myself more than I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To the demon that exists in my former psyche&lt;/strong&gt; - You're an asshole and a bully. You can't stand yourself, and you have to pull everyone down around you just so you can be taller than them. And for God's sake - She loved you, and you stood with your arms around her, talking about how wet your girlfriend's pussy was. What was she supposed to do? You know she doesn't fight back. You know she doesn't tell people to go fuck themselves. You know she doesn't know how. That's why you're doing that, that's why, when you see the life draining out of her eyes day by day you keep telling her about your sexual life that now excludes her. That's why. You're an evil fuck, and I hope that you're ready to pay when Karma comes knocking on your door, because you won't be able to avoid it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Hugs former self*  You're gonna be okay, kiddo. You always are, but I'm understanding you more, and I want to stop judging you on where you came from, and begin to hold you up on how you survived it. You're loved, and someday, you're gonna accept it without trying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8975498603785353156?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8975498603785353156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8975498603785353156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8975498603785353156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8975498603785353156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/07/monsters-in-closet.html' title='Monsters in the Closet'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7332492809211925119</id><published>2008-07-03T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T23:07:29.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One of These Things is NOT Like the Other</title><content type='html'>Okay, so aside from outing myself as a fan of children's public television from the 70's and 80's era, I'm here to address an issue called 'iniquity'. I may or may not have posted - I could go back and look, yes, but I am eternally lazy, and that would imply that I am capable of going back to see what the fuck I said before, and I think I have demonstrated that not only do I have the attention span of a goldfish (what? The attention span of a goldfish... what?) but I lack the trait that a lot of people are prided upon called motivation. I mean, if it's not gonna kill me, is it really necessary to inconvenience my lazy ass and go look in my previous posts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(breath) &lt;br /&gt;Okay, back to the issue. I was hired to Santa Barbara County Planning and Development in November of 2007, and began my probationary period in December of 2007. When I was hired, we had a woman with 9 years experience on the job(The Older One), and another woman with 2 years and going on maternity leave(The Pregnant One). That left me, the newbie, who was scared of her frickin' shadow and terrified of fucking up and being let go (YOU go have 5 kids and then have to raise them alone, without the help from your ex-spouse, and dwindling government benefits and see if YOU don't shit bricks when you misspell something). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, for 2 months, I was largely left alone to babysit the phones, do mail and distribution, and help customers (My strong suit, and what they hired me for). The Pregnant One was going on leave at the end of March, so they amped up my training.. meaning they decided that I had to go spend every day with the Older One, who was hellbent on cramming as much into my thick skull as could be crammed in a very short amount of time. Why the rush? Because after she had a fight with The Big Boss Lady, she decided she'd had it and was going to retire.. at THE END OF FUCKING MARCH. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, folks, the new kid was expected to step up and learn everything in an incredibly short amount of time. Never one to let a challenge slip by, I rose to the occasion and stepped up. I learned and learned and learned. And BOY DID I GET MY ASS KICKED. The Older One was bitchy. VERY bitchy. (obviously, she was of retirement age, so that lends something to the pot of Bitchy), condescending and rude to me. I left that office in tears more than once. I'd like to say that I'm tough and stoic and that it takes a lot to make me cry, but anyone who has known me any length of time knows my emotions run close to the surface and very very strongly. When I get pissed, I get PISSED, happy, elated, angry, I'm fucking scary. So it doesn't take much to make me cry. Still, I had to endure it, or find another job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I didn't tell our supervisor. Why? Well, see, there's this thing called probation (It doesn't end until December of 2008), I didn't know anything, and I knew The Older One and my Supervisor had a long history and a friendly relationship. Granted, I should have said "she's being a bitch", but I figured I was being short tempered and sensitive. (only a little)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, fast forward. The end of March hits. The Pregnant One leaves (she BETTER COME BACK), The Older One goes to retirement, but plans to come back as extra help to keep training me. They hire another woman to fill in the 3rd position.. we'll call her Dumbfuck. Dumbfuck was with the County before, but left for familial reasons. She came back. They reinstated her. Apparently (and I only found this out recently), she was hired back at about $2 an hour more than me. And I got to train her, since she wasn't from our dept. She was bitchy, bossy and rude to me. IN FRONT OF CUSTOMERS (OH HEYULL NAW!) They let her go 2 weeks ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, they reclassified my position, and it meant more money. WOOT! You'd think I should shut the fuck up and be happy, right? Nope! Turns out, they reclassified me as an entry level position.. but at the highest end of pay.. I am topped out for entry positions.. until Oh, JUNE OF FUCKING 2009. I'm a little pissed. But.. what ever.. I'm not leaving my job, I LOVE my work, I love where I am, I love the people and I love the subject matter. So, Shut up and fucking eat it. EAT IT BITCH, YOU KNOW YOU LIKE IT. (nervous cough..sorry) Anyway.. they hired a new girl... at a higher position than me. at more money than me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess who gets to train her? Yep. Me. I have been running that damn office for about 3 1/2 months, and I am going to be THE LOWEST PAID person in our position (by the way, they will be doing the same work as me.. EVENTUALLY), AND I get to train both The Pregnant One and The New Girl. Okay. Say it with me... That's Not Fair! (can I get an AMEN! ?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, that rant aside, I won't leave, I WILL train them. I think I am coming close to even on the Karmic table... and I am not about to upset the apple cart with whining and pissing and moaning over and over again... but I would NOT be me if I didn't bitch and piss and moan a LITTLE.. I mean, if I can't kill my ex.. I can bitch some... right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... Life is NOT fair, but you pick your fights.  This isn't one I can win (for the record, I did talk to my Supervisor and pointed out what's going on. She asked, and they said No. I am where I need to be pay-wise. Sigh. It's unfair, but it's not the best of circumstances for ANYONE. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am grateful that I am comfortable in my job, and that I will very VERY likely pass probation, making it near impossible to get rid of me. Go me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess this is where maturity comes in and colors things prettier, because just 2 years ago, I would have whined and pissed and moaned, kicked my feet and thrown a GOOD tantrum.  As it stands, I'm doing okay.. not great, but okay. I am grateful for where I have landed, and I have faith that the universe will put me where I need to be. It's doing a GREAT job currently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks East-Bonny.. BOCK BOCK!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7332492809211925119?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7332492809211925119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7332492809211925119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7332492809211925119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7332492809211925119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/07/one-of-these-things-is-not-like-other.html' title='One of These Things is NOT Like the Other'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-2411407979585297845</id><published>2008-06-20T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T20:19:21.656-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='u'/><title type='text'>I shall call the pebble Dare</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFxyjg3nmcI/AAAAAAAAAA4/_8fYJwhZBy4/s1600-h/My+Scott.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFxyjg3nmcI/AAAAAAAAAA4/_8fYJwhZBy4/s200/My+Scott.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214168423032396226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 weeks out. It alternately feels longer and shorter. Life went on just fine without me, and even held the door to usher me back in... only... I donno. I went through the door, sure, but I keep looking back out that door. Is that normal for everyone coming back from vacation? I just.. I donno.. my focus is elsewhere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss him. I might go... oh, I donno 10 minutes without thinking about SOMETHING to do with him... holding his hand, his hands.. him holding me, hugging each other, his scent, his voice (oh... shivers), his eyes... Oh Lord help me, those eyes. The kind and gentle demeanor with my damn dog. Going on dates with him? How he held the door for me? How he listened to everything I said, really listened? His intelligence? Him singing, the crushing feeling of missing him, like someone is squeezing my chest so tightly, that I have to fight to breathe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the fuck happened?! Did I fall more in love than I ever remember being before? Lord help me. I haven't been in the physical presence with him more than 4 days... but, God help me if I don't feel like someone ripped off a limb, tossed it aside and said 'You'll manage" Yeah... Manage. Key word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I a friggin' idiot for feeling like this? Is this just the beginning stages of love, where you want to wrap yourself in the other person so tightly that you end up frigging' wearing them? I mean, what the fuck? It scares me, and at the same time, I want to run toward the feeling with my arms held wide and embrace it fully. I want to feel that love all over me, around me, through me. I want it, I want it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want HIM. I cannot crush or consume him, and I don't WANT to, but Oh, how I miss him. I miss his arms folded around me, perfectly fitting around my shoulders. I miss him making me feel small, beautiful, lovely, LOVED. I miss feeling like he cared about ME as a person, who I am, what I think, what I feel. That I wasn't just another chick. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh man. A part of me worries that I am projecting too much on that infatuation period.. you become consumed with desire for the other person, so that you might forge a lasting bond... or at least get one hell of a romp. Part of me worries that I was treated so badly for so much of my life that I am hanging so much hope, expectation and promise on a Great Vacation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, with all that nay-saying, and analyzing.. I felt something.. like a curled up piece of my soul uncoiled, went to him, wrapped around him like a cat. I felt like I found a safe haven, where I could be goofy, silly, that I could make bad jokes and not be judged for their badness. That I could open up and sing... SING in front of him.. that not only could I curl around HIM, HIM, Scott, the Mayun!, but I could also walk beside him... that we could boogie on down together in total ... TOTAL silliness and it was just... it wasn't weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never felt awkward or stressed about making conversation. I never felt like I had to TRY to make stuff work. Is that just because we talked for years and years and years? Maybe.. who knows... but... maybe this is where I look at how this all made me feel, and just decide "don't over analyze it." Maybe 'it is what it is' and that's all there needs to be about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do know this.. I love this person. Everything about him I saw, I loved. Oh God, I miss him. (Even if he did cut my head off in this picture) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flap, Flap, Flap?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-2411407979585297845?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/2411407979585297845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=2411407979585297845' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2411407979585297845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2411407979585297845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-shall-call-pebble-dare.html' title='I shall call the pebble Dare'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFxyjg3nmcI/AAAAAAAAAA4/_8fYJwhZBy4/s72-c/My+Scott.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-2079975882507896283</id><published>2008-06-18T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T19:37:10.260-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFnEIfEiX5I/AAAAAAAAAAw/K10i0oM86Ag/s1600-h/Scott+%26+Susanne.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFnEIfEiX5I/AAAAAAAAAAw/K10i0oM86Ag/s200/Scott+%26+Susanne.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213413693716586386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I took that big leap, and there wasn't this bottomless chasm under me. There was My Scott. I could spend days talking about how much fun I had, how surprised I was by how deeply I feel for him (I knew I liked him immensely, and that I even loved him, but couldn't anticipate HOW MUCH) I could talk about the dates we had, what we did, about the lack of sleep, how we barely ate, but didn't notice.  I could mention that this is the first vacation I have ever had without children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember ever looking so happy - that's a cool thing. I miss him terribly. I wonder how "normal" that is for a budding relationship... you spend a lot of time together, and you fall in love, and you long for each others presence. Is it just the normal bonding? Is it more? Is it the good fit? *I* think it's more than the initial "I am attracted to you, and I like you IMMENSELY" deal that you begin with.. but... I am me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One things for sure... when he left, I felt like a piece of me left with him. I don't feel whole anymore. It's weird. It was only 4 days... but.. I felt like something in me changed. Maybe that's just the sleep deprivation... but... look at the picture.. I think I'm shiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This lack of cohesion brought to you by lack of sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shiny!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-2079975882507896283?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/2079975882507896283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=2079975882507896283' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2079975882507896283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2079975882507896283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/06/ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.html' title='Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFnEIfEiX5I/AAAAAAAAAAw/K10i0oM86Ag/s72-c/Scott+%26+Susanne.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-6502461791903095028</id><published>2008-05-29T22:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T23:05:26.608-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scared</title><content type='html'>I'm scared. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not in the boogeyman under the bed kind of way, but in the way where any number of things could happen, and you dont know which way the wind will blow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Profoundly scared of being hurt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unsure it would happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that I will live through any hurt I may incur doesn't make it easier to bear. You'd think it would, but it doesn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im scared to let myself want what I want, and find myself trying to distance myself from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scared to trust. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im scared, alright, but I'm leaping anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I already know I can swim, let's see if I can fly too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-6502461791903095028?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/6502461791903095028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=6502461791903095028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/6502461791903095028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/6502461791903095028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/05/scared.html' title='Scared'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7784244368873377044</id><published>2008-05-06T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T18:15:49.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post the next</title><content type='html'>Hey. Still there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, like, yeah. Life has a way of grabbing you by the ears, shaking you about and then turning you to face a mirror from time to time. This is one of those times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired, sad, demoralized and lonely. But it could be worse. It can always be worse, and at some point, hearing 'it could be worse' becomes meaningless. It is what it is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am dreading the work ahead in my life. I think I will afford myself this afternoon/evening of wallowing in self-pity, and then get back up, dust myself off and get back to work tomorrow. I did get a lot done today, even if it doesn't feel like it right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want the same things I always want, and I'm thinking that I wouldn't have been given this strong a desire if it weren't going to be fulfilled someday.  I watch my best friends snuggle together like little love birds and I long for that. Someday, right? Yeah, doesn't make TODAY less difficult. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again I am whining. I guess it's good to have a place to go to whine. Lately I feel like I have to do it a lot. :( Which means I need to start shifting my outlook. If you can't change your circumstances, you have to change you attitude. yeah yeah blah blah blah. whine whine whine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) Okay. Whining off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for still being here. All... what, there's 2 of you? :) Thanks for listening.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7784244368873377044?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7784244368873377044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7784244368873377044' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7784244368873377044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7784244368873377044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/05/post-next.html' title='Post the next'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-3448728417725538457</id><published>2008-05-01T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T21:31:01.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Untitled One</title><content type='html'>Ever have those times when you feel like you want to convey what's banging around in your head or thumping about in your heart but can't find the way to adequately express it? Yeah, that's where I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that I could say that I am shiny, or even slightly glowy.. but the truth is, I'm just not. I wish I could be specific as what the ennui is caused by. There are reasons, and they feel like whining when I bring them out. Things are changing/have changed. I realize that that's what life does, it changes. I also realize that the universe has an intricate and elaborate plan that I fit into somehow, and when things change, they usually have an overall positive outcome. That doesn't mean that the change isn't scary or unsettling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post is going to end up with a lot of half-said things, and many implied things. That's just the way I'm going to leave it though. My intent was to put down the general feeling of unease and sadness. I don't need anything picked apart. My People are good about not belittling my feelings, even if they think they are silly. I love them madly for it. But sometimes, things feel so deep and strong that you don't dare talk about them, because 1) things are pending, and you don't have anything concrete, and 2) You just can't bear the thought of being made light of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about looking back on all this and laughing someday, but Someday, I will be able to look back on this, because I'll survive it. I always do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I'd just like to thrive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-3448728417725538457?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/3448728417725538457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=3448728417725538457' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3448728417725538457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3448728417725538457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/05/untitled-one.html' title='The Untitled One'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-3640539568271969621</id><published>2008-03-30T22:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T23:07:28.804-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When you Wish Upon a Star</title><content type='html'>2 years, 3 months and 6 days ago, I wished upon a star. I departed from my normal wishes by asking for Happiness, "Whatever it takes." Pretty tall order. Especially when you cast out to the Universe and ask for Happiness, in whatever form the Universe deems fit to throw back at you. And, I have achieved it, mostly. I am Happy, overall, I am. But I have moments where I realize what my life entails. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do a laundry list of all the garbage that's in my life.. Ex who would love to see me fail, just so he can feel smug and "right" *check*. 5 children who need their mother more than she can be home for them *check, check, check, check, check* A run down rental home *check.. eww* A significant lack of time to handle life's realities? *CHEEEEECK!* A job that pays better than I was accustomed to making, yet still isn't quite enough? *CHECK!* An unending desire to be loved and appreciated, cared for, protected, and ... whoa.. wait.. back up.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that one's on there. I think that one's on every one's list though. The first conscious goal I ever remember having was to be a Dr. Why? because I had 2 massive seizures before the age of 7, and no medical reason why. The puzzle of why, coupled with the fact that it had happened to ME pulled me in and spoke to me early in life.. at 7. I knew ... KNEW I would be a Dr. at 7. Then, I discovered I could sing. Not just a little, but pretty damn well. That became ambition #2, replacing #1. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, it happened... puberty, and the goal of acceptance, and ultimately, love. What do I want more than anything? It's not money, fame, fortune or even everlasting security. It's love. Its to have someone get me, understand me and want me more than anyone else in the world. It's to have someone want to be with me, near me more than any&lt;em&gt;thing&lt;/em&gt; else in the world. And its to return that feeling. That one showed up about 15, and never really left. I have mistaken love more than once, I even thought I was in love a few times, but realize, in retrospect that I only have truly been in love twice in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the times is a Current Thing. The other was the Ex, and when I think about HOW much I loved him, I feel sad, ashamed (because he was SUCH AN ASS) and quiet inside. I KNEW I loved him. I KNEW he was THE ONE, only, he wasn't. I'm not sure there IS a "ONE" for any one person, but I love the thought so much that I still cling to it. I cling to the idea that &lt;strong&gt;SOMEONE&lt;/strong&gt; Is my ONE so hard, because it gives me hope that this life culminates into more than the daily grind. That there's more to life than a paycheck, housework, homework, raising children, paying bills, surviving to fight another day is something I desperately need, it keeps me going. It gives me hope that there's more than just... This...It is hard to sit and wait, hope, have faith that the universe will answer the call, and what makes the Current One hard is not knowing, is having to have faith that if it is Meant To Be, it WILL be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is as much a state of mind as a consequence, but sometimes, hope is pretty bright and shiny, and it's easy to be blinded by hope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope, I dream, I believe, I put faith in the intangible, and I KNOW I make myself vulnerable for it. I want to love so big, so completely that I glow, that I shine with it. I need to believe in that, I need to believe it is real, that it happens. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I also realize that.. if it is real, if my faith, hope, beliefs and dreams are real, will come to fruition, I can't force the hand, I can't force the issue. So, I have to step back and say "I want love". And let the Universe do its work for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-3640539568271969621?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/3640539568271969621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=3640539568271969621' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3640539568271969621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3640539568271969621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/03/when-you-wish-upon-star.html' title='When you Wish Upon a Star'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-4184720056550268236</id><published>2008-03-29T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T11:25:02.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coolest Youtube EVAR!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3PbaFQBgv8&amp;NR=1"&gt;*geekgasm*&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'scuse me. I need to go wipe up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-4184720056550268236?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/4184720056550268236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=4184720056550268236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4184720056550268236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4184720056550268236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/03/coolest-youtube-evar.html' title='Coolest Youtube EVAR!'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-5431756158586183830</id><published>2008-03-24T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T21:15:13.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Learned</title><content type='html'>"Think of me what you will, I gotta little space to fill"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That quote is from a &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQhGfucHbtc"&gt;song by Tom Petty&lt;/a&gt;.  Why is it sitting at the top of this post?  Because I felt it was appropriate, given both my life, and the life of my very good friend, &lt;a href="http://blog.kkorner.net/"&gt;Krista&lt;/a&gt; .  Life is hard. For some of us, it tends to be just a smidge harder for a longer stretch than for others. While that statement is true, it's also not meant as a declaration of competition.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What it is meant to do is remind the readers of these blogs, a public display of personal expression.  As the saying goes.. "until you have walked a mile in my shoes, don't judge me." Now, while I'm writing this, and you are reading this, I realize that is both unrealistic and impossible. We all judge, a tiny bit, be it "oh, that sentence could have been better" or "God, what was she thinking?" as decent human beings, it is our job to strive to UNDERSTAND, and not condemn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that, I will end with another quote of the &lt;a href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/t/tom+petty/you+dont+know+how+it+feels_20138650.html"&gt;song&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So let's get to the point, let's roll another joint. Let's head on down the road, there's somewhere I gotta go. You don't know how it feels. No, you don't know how it feels to be me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-5431756158586183830?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/5431756158586183830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=5431756158586183830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5431756158586183830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5431756158586183830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/03/learned.html' title='Learned'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-4824322789623778803</id><published>2008-03-04T23:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T23:12:51.748-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Assessed.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://hellarity.us/in-bed"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.hellarity.us/in-bed/quiz/gd.php?cost=1,056"  style="z-index:55;" alt="bedroom toys" border=0&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 8px; position:relative; left: -105px; top:9px;"&gt;Powered By Their&lt;a  href="http://theirtoys.com"&gt;Adult Toys&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly, I am in the WRONG profession!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-4824322789623778803?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/4824322789623778803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=4824322789623778803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4824322789623778803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4824322789623778803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/03/assessed.html' title='Assessed.'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7540147112162542406</id><published>2008-02-28T21:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T21:50:35.457-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mondays</title><content type='html'>Can I just say that there needs to be a law against HOW many Mondays can be in a single week?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, seriously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7540147112162542406?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7540147112162542406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7540147112162542406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7540147112162542406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7540147112162542406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/02/mondays.html' title='Mondays'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-2478041814785777186</id><published>2008-02-25T06:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T06:46:05.415-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vulnerability</title><content type='html'>After the Flight for Freedom, I began to notice a change. They say it takes time to undo the effects of long-term abuse, and they aren't kidding. You question everything you do, every decision you make, every emotion. You question your worth, and ultimately, your right to just BE. For me, it made me very snippy and short, and I compensated for the lack of confidence with being overly lenient with my children. To me, they had suffered and immeasurable loss and hardship. Their mother left their father, because he had abused her. The children knew why I had left through listening to my end of phone conversations with my support network in LA. Though far away, they are still family, and were crucial in my leaving their dad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a learning curve to independence. I thought, initially that I couldn't do it, period. Then I thought I could do it with help. Lots of help. Then I questioned whether THAT was right. Eventually I realized I hadn't burned the children down or totally ruined the house. I am far from perfect, but I could be doing much, MUCH worse. Learning to be more forgiving with myself is something I struggle with daily. I try not to let the insecurity creep in, but from time to time, it happens, especially when it's something that matters to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I care very much about how I do in my new job. I love the work, it's challenging and interesting, which are two things I NEED, I have come to realize. I enjoy working with people, and my job allows this. It's also intellectually stimulating, so I get to feel smart regularly. Yay! :) I care about my children. While they drive me up one wall and down another, they are important to me. When I think about screwing up with them, it brings the cold sweats, the insecurities pop out, and I react instead of think. I think it is with them that I have THE MOST insecurity. I can get another job, but I cannot get another chance to raise my children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In thinking about that, it makes me mindful that I have a temper, and lose it more often than I would like to admit to, even on here. I yelled at my daughter on Friday, and when I had a chance to get away from the situation, I felt bad, guilty that I had lost my temper and felt like it was OKAY to have done so. I came to a realization then. It wasn't okay to lose my temper, and it never IS okay to lose my temper. Getting mad is okay, natural, and human, but when you lose control of that, when you're screaming at your kid about another lost ID, and then things come out that you didn't intend on yelling at them about, you realize that not only have you lost your temper, you have gone pretty close to, if not in the middle of abuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I have been reassured that it will be okay.. The child will NOT die, or suffer, but I can't help but think "Gosh, didn't I leave their father for similar reasons?" I certainly wouldn't like to be spoken to that way, so what gives ME the right to speak to HER, to THEM, to ANYONE that way? AHA! Growth. First you question the behavior, then you can change it. Heh There is vulnerability in being wrong. It isn't the end of the world to be wrong, to make mistakes, but damned if it doesn't make you question your worth as a person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got upset with my Good Friend this weekend over a misunderstanding. I thought he had blown me off, when he actually called me the day before I had my minor meltdown. Ah, nothing is quite so refreshing as feeling like an ass. But, that brings me back to vulnerability. I have feelings for this friend of mine, and in having them, I have insecurity and vulnerability. I care for him, muchly. I would love to be his sweetie, and the miles and miles of distance amplifies the neurosis. :) Being an awesome guy (very), he put up with it, but I felt bad for being an ass. I guess if I didn't act like one from time to time, I'd have to be some kind of saint. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of fun would THAT be?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-2478041814785777186?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/2478041814785777186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=2478041814785777186' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2478041814785777186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2478041814785777186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/02/vulnerability.html' title='Vulnerability'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8650245389516254586</id><published>2008-02-23T09:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T09:41:11.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Unexpected</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I hinted that a long detailed post chronicling the Journey to Freedom would come, and when my Independence Day came, I couldn't find the gumption to do it. In thinking about how I wanted to convey the terror and tumult of that night, of that week, I realized something. Something HUGE. I have begun healing. That is significant. In trying to recapture how hard that night was, I realized I could no longer conjure the emotion attached to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, that is massive. I am an emotional person. I form attachments to events, people, places, memories, THINGS. I will remember a smell, how the light looked in the instance, the background noise, the positioning of the people, their expressions and body language, and it will trigger an emotional response. When I look back at that night, I can remember how things happened, the phone call from Janet, her urging me to leave Anthony. The call to the women's shelter to ASK THEM if I had "been abused" by describing my life to them. Them telling me that YES, I had.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The terror at the realization that I HAD a way out, and the knowledge that I didn't know what time He would come home from class, and that the intake over the phone would take an hour. KNOWING I would run out of time before he came home, and that I'd be stuck. Then the call from Lorenzo and Lien, urging, begging, pleading with me to leave. Then, most bizarrely, my rush to clean the house before he came home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I had been told "you have suffered abuse, and we will take you here" I had been told by my friends, ANTHONY'S friend from before the marriage that what was happening was inexcusable and WRONG, and I vacuumed and was washing dishes before I packed everyone up and flew. I was terrified, I was shaking and on the verge of tears as I told everyone to get shoes and socks on, grab their blankets and we were going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't leave a note. I grabbed the CD of family photos, hoping to get one with Tatiana in our house, to PROVE he had been committing adultery. Then we flew to the police station, I called Liz when we got there to tell her where we were, I called work to tell them I couldn't come in, didn't KNOW when I WOULD come in. Then I waited for the people from the women's shelter to come and meet with me. Liz came with toys and color books for the kids. She gave me her cel phone so I could keep in touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never done anything SO bold, so brave in my entire life. It took every ounce of strength and courage I have in me to do it, and I am glad for the impetus of my friends behind me. The terror I experienced that night is unlike anything else I have ever known. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived at the shelter about 10 at night. They situated us in a multi-family room, so all the kids and I could sleep together. They didn't go to school the next day, or the day after, as we tried to situate ourselves and recover from the shock. No one wanted to call dad. No one wanted to go home, OR to school. Then, 3 days later, he found the house, took the car, and we were forced to move to another shelter to protect the anonymity of the women there. We moved to Santa Barbara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shelter there was larger, a converted motel. It had less of a 'safe" feel to it, and it was there that I was informed that I had made a mistake. See, in all the rush, I had asked "DO I need to do anything? I don't want him to say I kidnapped the kids" They informed me I hadn't. I found out in Santa Barbara I was supposed to have called the DA and filed "good cause" so that they COULDN'T say I kidnapped them. I immediately did, and she thanked me for calling, but that I SHOULD have called the night I left. I told her I was informed I didn't need to call anyone, and she was miffed, but excused it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's significant, because the next day, Anthony filed a motion with the court to get the kids returned to him under an emergency custody order. He claimed I was mentally ill (I was in therapy) and that I had 'real issues coping with the children by herself'. YOU Try taking care of 5 children, cleaning a house, sleeping 4 hours a day AND putting up with your husband bringing a woman into your home, and tell ME how you do? Mmmkay? Because I had called the DA, because I was at the police station that night, because I went to a domestic violence shelter, criminal charges weren't filed (he did try to get me for kidnapping), but the children WERE remanded into his care. I found out about that at 10am, by the DA herself, who called my cel (thank you, that was more than you HAD to do), and told me that I had to contact A's attorney. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did, and returned them THAT night. I went to live with Liz and her family for 3 weeks, where I did much crying, raging, and began to heal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got the kids back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on my own now, with a better paying job, and I have healed significantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I wouldn't change ANY of that. ANY of it. I needed to go through that hell before I could sit here today and tell my story. I have left out details, and the journey AFTER freedom has been equally as hard as the breaking free was. There's responsibility in freedom that you have to learn. Especially when your freedom impacts 5 people. The gratitude and love I feel for 'my people' is tremendous. I am blessed AND loved. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately, though, I am free. This post is more than a week late, but it's still timely and significant. That I can't recall the emotions readily is important to me. I am over Anthony. I am. He irks me, because he's just an ass, but I don't feel loss toward him. I don't miss him. I don't even miss the marriage anymore. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT is wondrous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHINY!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8650245389516254586?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8650245389516254586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8650245389516254586' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8650245389516254586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8650245389516254586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/02/unexpected.html' title='Unexpected'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-4752948088634502309</id><published>2008-02-08T13:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T13:26:57.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Link to the Past</title><content type='html'>I was reading archived posts from my friend &lt;a href="http://blog.kkorner.net/"&gt;Krista's&lt;/a&gt; website..  I feel this is significantly important enough to repost, even 2-3 years after she originaly posted this on her site. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;A lot has been said about how to prevent rape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women should learn self-defense. Women should lock themselves in their houses after dark. Women shouldn't have long hair and women shouldn't wear short skirts. Women shouldn't leave drinks unattended. Fuck, they shouldn't dare to get drunk at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;instead of that bullshit, how about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if a woman is drunk, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a woman is walking alone at night, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a women is drugged and unconscious, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a woman is wearing a short skirt, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a woman is jogging in a park at 5 am, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a woman looks like your ex-girlfriend you're still hung up on, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a woman is asleep in her bed, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a woman is asleep in your bed, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a woman is doing her laundry, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a woman is in a coma, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a woman changes her mind in the middle of or about a particular activity, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if a woman has repeatedly refused a certain activity, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if your step-daughter is watching tv, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if you break into a house and find a woman there, don't rape her.&lt;br /&gt;if your friend thinks it's okay to rape someone, tell him it's not, and that he's not your friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if your "friend" tells you he raped someone, report him to the police.&lt;br /&gt;if your frat-brother or another guy at the party tells you there's an unconscious woman upstairs and it's your turn, don't rape her, call the police and tell the guy he's a rapist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tell your sons, god-sons, nephews, grandsons, sons of friends, daughters - tell everyone it's not okay to rape someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't tell your women friends how to be safe and avoid rape.&lt;br /&gt;don't imply that she could have avoided it if she'd only done/not done x.&lt;br /&gt;don't imply that it's in any way her fault.&lt;br /&gt;don't let silence imply agreement when someone tells you he "got some" with the drunk girl.&lt;br /&gt;don't perpetuate a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions. You can, too, help yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you agree, repost it. It's that important.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I DO agree. It IS that important.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-4752948088634502309?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/4752948088634502309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=4752948088634502309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4752948088634502309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4752948088634502309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/02/link-to-past.html' title='A Link to the Past'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-4404877555355338872</id><published>2008-02-05T19:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T20:24:34.609-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Perspective</title><content type='html'>"DANG, He's NICE!" quoth Isabella. Why did she say that, you ask? Because I was describing an exchange between myself and a really good friend of mine. The exact story is mine, not even the kids know about what it was, but I was intimating how he had the oportunity to be angry and say mean things, and it didn't happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I relating this? Not because I want to share HOW cool he is (Very.), but because I want to make a point.  My children have learned that losing your temper and being verbally abusive is "normal" and acceptable. What have I done to these people? IN all the years of staying with my Ex Asshole, I was thinking it was better for them, being raised in an "unbroken home" when in reality, it had never been whole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's kind of entertaining to watch you two fight" (Mystique, listening to my end of an argument about the station wagon, and how I have to find a place for it, or have it towed. "It's not entertaining!" I snap back. Because, it isn't. I hung up on him, because I didn't feel like I should have to listen to him tell me about how awful I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car has been ticketed. I have to move it or it's gonna get towed and trashed. I asked him if he wanted it and this is the conversation : (A)"I CANT TOUCH THE CAR! IT SAID SO IN THE COURT PAPERS!" (S)"I know what it said, but I'm asking you, do you want it? You never signed it over to me, so it's still in your name. I couldn't afford to fix it." (A)"I want it in the condition you got it in - running" (S)"It needs the starter replaced" (A)"They're not that expensive" (S)"I couldn't fix it.." (A)"-You'd have to pay a mechanic to fix it." (S)"I'm asking you if you want it, we can work something out with the court to give it to you." (A)"I can't have it, the court said so!" (A)"YOU HAVE A DRIVEWAY, A GARAGE." (S)"If you don't want it, I am going to have to wrecked." (A)"I don't consent to that" (S)"So, do you want it or not?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He started to repeat himself about how the court said he couldn't have it, that they gave me SOLE use of it. Well, the sole use part is true, because it was the family vehicle. I had been granted physical custody of the kids (we share joint physical and legal, but they live here primarily.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car is a piece of junk.  The front passenger door doesn't open from the inside. The left rear driver side seatbelt doesn't work. NOne of the windows roll down. The radio drops signal, and you have to bang on the dashboard to make it work. The steering wheel is loose and wobbly, The gear indicator is busted, you never know what gear you're in unless you count from park. The driver's seat is loose and rocks (it's not supposed to). The ceiling liner is torn out. It leaks radiator fluid AND oil. Oh, and let's not forget that it overheats in 80 degree weather. It's stalled on the freeway to LA more than once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, bear in mind this was "my car" I drove the kids to and from school, to and from the store, to and from Drs appts. I took them down south to visit our friends, and we drove it for "family" stuff, if it ever came up. The car has over 200K miles on it. She was good to me, and took care of me and my needs. I loved her, and I will miss her, but She's not worth pumping hundreds, THOUSANDS of dollars into. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO we arrive, yet again to control. Ahhh... Control. What did I do when he kept steering the conversation back to how "the court gave it to him, and he couldn't touch it? I told him I wasn't arguing with him anymore. And hung up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the comment of "that was entertaning" from Mystique, because if you can't change a situation, you gotta laugh at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My children don't know what NORMAL is. That is a frightening thought.  Hell, *I* don't know what normal is. But I am learning to spot abuse... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this will serve as a prelude to a long post that I have been trying to map out in my head.  I am fast approaching my Independance Day - Feb 14th, the day I left him and fled with the kids to a women's shelter. I have never documented that frightening journey, and I feel like I owe it to myself, to what I have surmounted to THIS point to get where I am today.. I am a long way from the summit of hardships, but I am climbing the hill, and not being knocked down so much. THAT deserves a cookie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOOT! COOKIE!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-4404877555355338872?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/4404877555355338872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=4404877555355338872' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4404877555355338872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4404877555355338872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/02/perspective.html' title='Perspective'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-1426311413291094194</id><published>2008-01-28T00:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T00:34:00.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not the Destination, but the Journey</title><content type='html'>:) I love my friends and family. They are truly, TRULY good to me, and if it weren't for them, I wouldn't know what I had to look forward to in life. :) I often forget that this isn't a race to the finish, but a long, meandering path that will take me in directions that I don't even know exist yet. Lots of stops along the way, some derailments, but lots of forward momentum, because I have nowhere to go but forward.  I often find myself wishing that something would pass, that I could skip to the end result, the outcomes of events, actions, ideas... but that's not how it works.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I had a conversation with my eldest daughter about fairy tales.  She was saying they were all lies, but I corrected her. They are not lies, but instead ieas, and ideals. They are what we long for in life, as unrealistic as it often is.  They should not be measure of success in life, or something to hold your life against, but they embody ideals.  You meet someone who brings you happiness, and who, in turn, you make happy. That's not unrealistic, but thinking that because you met that person your life will then become perfect IS unrealistic, and ultimately self-defeating.  Think of all the people turned aside, because they didn't fit Prince Charming's character description.  What if he had a beer gut, would he be any less charming? What if he had bad acne, would he be less empathetic or a lousy partner? What if he wasn't rich? Would that make him less desireable? Does he need to be successful for him to ring your bell? They may all sound like cosmetic things, but maybe that's the point. The heart is something trancendental and pure, regardless of packaging, and lets not get started on the size of the Fair Princess' thighs.  IS she any less a princess for being a size 14?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness comes when you stop trying to force the issue. You accept the joy you are given. You eschew the crap for what it is... crap. WE ALL have crap in our lives.. be it a speeding ticket, late payments on your credit card, bad relationship history, STDs, crummy job.  Most of these can be dealt with, worked around, coped with. What are you willing to do to be happy? Anything it takes? That's a tall order, and often open ended. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm learning to enjoy the ride.  I often forget that it takes time to get to the destination, because I get caught up in everything it's taking to get there. And if I don't get it right today, I still have tomorrow... and the day after, and the day after that.. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-1426311413291094194?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/1426311413291094194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=1426311413291094194' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1426311413291094194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1426311413291094194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/01/not-destination-but-journey.html' title='Not the Destination, but the Journey'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-4401848134597492771</id><published>2008-01-20T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T11:17:50.549-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I must... I MUST!</title><content type='html'>Okay, that last one was heavy and stuff. This one is fun, and silly!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, as before, ganked from &lt;a href="http://blog.kkorner.net/"&gt;Krista&lt;/a&gt;!! :D LOVE YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave your name in my blog comments.&lt;br /&gt;Once you do that, this is what I'll do for you... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I'll respond with something random about you.&lt;br /&gt;2. I'll tell you which song or movie you remind me of.&lt;br /&gt;3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle you in.&lt;br /&gt;4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me. &lt;br /&gt;(if possible. if not, I'll say something that only makes sense to me.)&lt;br /&gt;5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.&lt;br /&gt;6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.&lt;br /&gt;7. I'll ask you something I've always wondered about you.&lt;br /&gt;8. If you play, you MUST post this on yours. You MUST. **&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must, I must, I must increase my bust!... no, wait... but I DID post this. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-4401848134597492771?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/4401848134597492771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=4401848134597492771' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4401848134597492771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4401848134597492771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-must-i-must.html' title='I must... I MUST!'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-3258440335224237048</id><published>2008-01-20T18:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T18:43:38.508-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On accepting the unchangeable</title><content type='html'>Dear Bloggy,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a while since I've updated you. I'm sorry. Life has a way of grabbing me by the ears, screaming in my face, then slapping me on the ass and sending me back on my way in bewilderment. Cheeky monkey.  There are times I become painfully aware that things are very much not how I wish them to be. I try not to shout about it too loudy, because it seems ungracious that with all the fortune, care and grace my people have given me, that I still find fault in my life and despair over it. I try and keep those moments short and fleeting.  I really DO have much to be thankful AND grateful of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a Gen X-er, I excell at bitching and whining. It's what we do. :) A couple things just bugged me today. One being the size of my body.  I don't expect to be thin, or "average" but god damn, can I just stop packing it on? I know that weight gain goes hand in hand with stress, and let's face it, the only way I will ever NOT have stress in my life is to be dead.  Still, I have beautiful clothes that I need to fit into, and I can't comfortably do that at this moment in time. I realize I need to watch my intake, and star exercising, and the rest will take care of itself, but I tend to be a selfish whore with my 'alone time' and I'd rather stare blankly at my computer than torture my out of shape body for 45 minutes, even every other day. Do I feel better when I do it? Um, YEAH. But do I like the thought thatI have that obligation? Fuck no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The other one is being poor. I am so fucking tired of being poor. I grew up poor, I have lived poor as an adult and a parent. And when my children go to their friend's homes, and I see how beautiful their homes are, I get sad and jealous inside. It happens. We who have not tend to envy those who have. I live in an old house with crappy carpeting, crappy windows and... well, as much as it's home, my house is a piece of crap, and it doesn't even BELONG to me. AS I just said though, it IS home, crappiness and all. And realistically, my children would just TRASH that beautiful home, and then I would have to kill them, because that house would be fucking expensive, and while I love my demon-spawn, I do NOT like having to clean up messes, and I HATE having to repair shit they broke. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I long for is an acceptance. Some things I will never change... being poor, my total physique (don't give me bullshit about how I can exercise, cut my intake, and work my fucking ass off to lose weight to be "hot" I'm fucking hot right now, I just want to be less pudgy. That's not much to ask.. I'm talking about being short and stocky naturally. I will never be tall and statuesque. Dammit.) The fact that I have a stupid Ex who would love nothing more than to see my mutilated corpse on the side of the road. (I do not share that sentiment, even though he's an ass) I just want to accept the things I can't change, the strength to change the things I can. And I want to know the difference between the two (Hey! I just want the AA prayer, and I didn't even have to become a lush to want it!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. Now, in light of this heavy post, I will say that I am genuinely grateful for the path I am on, and that some of the bigger rocks and pits have been removed, or a workaround has been put into effect for them. :) HUGS! We'll get through this... after all, nothing has managed to break us yet, why should this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-3258440335224237048?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/3258440335224237048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=3258440335224237048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3258440335224237048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3258440335224237048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/01/on-accepting-unchangeable.html' title='On accepting the unchangeable'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7569852334104434050</id><published>2008-01-14T18:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T18:43:37.078-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Meme a me!</title><content type='html'>Please share your best birthday memory. &lt;br /&gt;Now, please share your worst birthday memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I probably didn't cut and paste it to it's graphical goodness, but I'll take a whack at it. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best birthday memory is easy. Last year, August 25th, the year I became a Virgo. Joe, Cathy, Liz and her dad, George, all threw me a surprise party on Aug 25th. I was lured into the trap by George saying "Liz's birthday is the 27th, Cathy's is the 26th, lets celebrate them on the 25th as a big party. It's the only day they can all get off." So, of course, I made arrangements to be there, washed dishes, cleaned up the house in prep of the celebration. They had planned on throwing me a surprise party, and a surprise it WAS, since my birthday is Christmas Eve! Ah, the love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst birthday? It could be my 30th, where nothing special happened, at all. The Ex took the day off work, sure, but we watched TV and had pizza for dinner. That was it for the BIG 3-0. It could be my 31st, where the Ex was so sick he stayed in bed all day, then told me "we can reschedule your birthday" rather insensitively. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to think that I have the worst of the birthdays out of the way and have nothing but good fortune to look forward to from now on. I mean, I'm a Virgo now. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7569852334104434050?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7569852334104434050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7569852334104434050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7569852334104434050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7569852334104434050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/01/meme-me.html' title='Meme a me!'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-4884174502937066499</id><published>2008-01-07T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T21:56:34.455-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Celtic sign :D</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="width:300px;_height:250px; min-height:250px; background-color:rgb(216,233,237); text-align:center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="background:rgb(129,172,201); height:4px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;img src="http://www.quizilla.com/images/blue_drk_corner1.gif" style="float: left" height="4" hspace="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;img src="http://www.quizilla.com/images/blue_drk_corner2.gif" style="float: right" height="4" hspace="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="background:rgb(129,172,201); padding: 0pt 0pt 5px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:12px; color:rgb(255,255,255); padding:3px; font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Baby, what's your sign? (Celtic Zodiac)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="padding:5px; text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:Arial; background-color:rgb(216,233,237);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://i104.photobucket.com/albums/m183/ojiazul25/Zodiac/birch.jpg"&gt;&lt;br/&gt;You were born in the month of the birch. To the Druids, the Birch represents renewal, rebirth and inception, since it was the first tree to come into leaf after the Winter Season. In general, Birch individuals are determined, resilient and ambitious. Birch individuals believe that hard work, patience and persistance will eventually triumph. Birch people are loyal, reliable and trustworthy, but prone to be reserved in displays of affection... although they are sociable with those they choose to socialize with. limitations are not readily accepted by Birch individuals and due to their drive and ambition, there is sometimes a tendency to grow cynical. Serious by nature with a somewhat droll sense of humor, Birch individuals sometimes aim to become less serious, which can lead to identity problems. There is a tendency for the Birch individual to experience loneliness and they often need a goal in life in order to avoid becoming depressed and pessimistic.&lt;br/&gt;Take this &lt;a target="quizilla" style="color:rgb(0,0,0)" href="http://quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=17&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/users/ojiazul25/quizzes/Baby%2C+what%27s+your+sign%3F+%28Celtic+Zodiac%29"&gt;quiz&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=18&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/" target="quizilla"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.quizilla.com/images/codepastes/30qzlogo.gif" style="padding:2px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color:rgb(0,0,0);" target="quizilla" href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=18&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color:rgb(0,0,0);"  target="quizilla" href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=21&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/register"&gt;Join&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;| &lt;a style="color:rgb(0,0,0);" target="quizilla" href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=20&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/makeaquiz.php"&gt;Make A Quiz&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a target="quizilla" href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=42&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/users/ojiazul25/quizzes/"&gt;More Quizzes&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a style="color:rgb(0,0,0);" target="quizilla" href="http://www.quizilla.com/redirect.php?statsid=19&amp;url=http://www.quizilla.com/codepastes/?quizid=3578769"&gt;Grab Code&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-4884174502937066499?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/4884174502937066499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=4884174502937066499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4884174502937066499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/4884174502937066499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-celtic-sign-d.html' title='My Celtic sign :D'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i104.photobucket.com/albums/m183/ojiazul25/Zodiac/th_birch.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-1614941988215907875</id><published>2007-12-24T07:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T08:12:30.632-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How Long 'till my Soul Gets it Right?</title><content type='html'>Ah, the birthday post. :) This is where I sit and ramble about what I have learned about myself over the last year - not a bad thing, but to the people reading this (all 1 of you) it will be a rehash of the last year of awakening and self-realization, nothing new. But, me being me, I will sum up - I have learned more of who I am in the last year than in the last 33. I am Free, truly free - I can screw up or succeed on my own merits. I have an incredible support network. I have Family, and I have Family by Choice; these people are the wind beneath my wings, and the earth beneath my feet when I stop soaring. I am loved - for who I am, and for what I can/can't do; they have never tried to change me, only to help me see what's really bugging me. My children love me, even with the last 12 foggy years of my life, they love me I see it on their faces. And, definitely not last or least, I am a very worthy person. Worthy of love, success and happiness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am grateful to everyone in my life, for the support, kindness and belief I needed and would have foundered without, and still need. :D It's my birthday, but I have already gotten my presents from everyone throughout the year. :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MUCH love, and shininess!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-1614941988215907875?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/1614941988215907875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=1614941988215907875' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1614941988215907875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1614941988215907875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/12/how-long-till-my-soul-gets-it-right.html' title='How Long &apos;till my Soul Gets it Right?'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-6736453628023911996</id><published>2007-12-19T20:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-19T20:48:31.701-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Excuse me..</title><content type='html'>I seem to have left my geek out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I Am A:&lt;/b&gt; Neutral Good Human Bard/Sorcerer (2nd/2nd Level)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;u&gt;Ability Scores:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Strength-&lt;/b&gt;11&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dexterity-&lt;/b&gt;11&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Constitution-&lt;/b&gt;14&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Intelligence-&lt;/b&gt;13&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Wisdom-&lt;/b&gt;13&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Charisma-&lt;/b&gt;13&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;u&gt;Alignment:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;Neutral Good&lt;/b&gt; A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them. Neutral good is the best alignment you can be because it means doing what is good without bias for or against order. However, neutral good can be a dangerous alignment because because it advances mediocrity by limiting the actions of the truly capable.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;u&gt;Race:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;Humans&lt;/b&gt; are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;u&gt;Primary Class:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;Bards&lt;/b&gt; often serve as negotiators, messengers, scouts, and spies. They love to accompany heroes (and villains) to witness heroic (or villainous) deeds firsthand, since a bard who can tell a story from personal experience earns renown among his fellows. A bard casts arcane spells without any advance preparation, much like a sorcerer. Bards also share some specialized skills with rogues, and their knowledge of item lore is nearly unmatched. A high Charisma score allows a bard to cast high-level spells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;u&gt;Secondary Class:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sorcerers&lt;/b&gt; are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Find out &lt;a href='http://www.easydamus.com/character.html' target='mt'&gt;What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;/a&gt; courtesy of Easydamus &lt;/a&gt; &lt;/b&gt; &lt;a href='mailto:zybstrski@excite.com'&gt;(e-mail)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, like, I thought I was like, smarter and stuff... but.. Oh well!!! maybe I'll come across a book, or a belt of charisma... damn, I need to get out more...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-6736453628023911996?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/6736453628023911996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=6736453628023911996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/6736453628023911996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/6736453628023911996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/12/excuse-me.html' title='Excuse me..'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-3298874605494931841</id><published>2007-12-17T23:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T23:25:51.678-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Float, Flutter, Fly</title><content type='html'>Sounded cool, and I couldn't think of a good opener for this here entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep forgetting the password of this place. By the time I get in here, I feel like a safe cracker, and my creativity is diminished. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love work. Of course, it's new and I haven't been there long enough to hate it, and I might get there eventually, but for now, I loves it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im getting sleepy. I want to write a short story, but keep tripping up on what to write about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, since I didn't bring the cool, or the funny, Ima go. K?&lt;br /&gt;Bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-3298874605494931841?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/3298874605494931841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=3298874605494931841' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3298874605494931841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/3298874605494931841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/12/float-flutter-fly.html' title='Float, Flutter, Fly'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-2213908727191765209</id><published>2007-12-13T22:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T22:43:42.244-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NNNGGGGHHHHHH!</title><content type='html'>I so wanted to post something awesometastic. I feel braindead.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im gonna post a poem that my friend sent to me, and I loved instantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Tread Softly-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,&lt;br /&gt;Enwrought with golden and silver light,&lt;br /&gt;The blue and the dim and the dark cloths&lt;br /&gt;Of night and light and the half-light,&lt;br /&gt;I would spread the cloths under your feet:&lt;br /&gt;But I, being poor, have only my dreams;&lt;br /&gt;I have spread my dreams under your feet;&lt;br /&gt;Tread softly because you tread on my dreams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-William Butler Yeats-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do love me some stars... off to look at Geminids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-2213908727191765209?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/2213908727191765209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=2213908727191765209' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2213908727191765209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/2213908727191765209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/12/nnngggghhhhhh.html' title='NNNGGGGHHHHHH!'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-5194321609575671929</id><published>2007-12-11T21:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T21:21:19.165-08:00</updated><title type='text'>old</title><content type='html'>I'm not sure when it happened, or what even triggered it.. but somehow, sometime I became "old." 33 isn't a big number, and by most people's standards, I'd get slapped for claiming to be old, but damn, I FEEL old. It could be a combination of lack of exercise and poor diet, but all I know is that I feel really old, and it came on suddenly. Gone are the days of staying up until 2 am just to do it, then rising 4 hours later, and going about my day. I look at the clock, see it's 8pm and long to crawl between the sheets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from the fatigue, My neck hurts. A lot. Like, all the time. I wake up at night with my neck screaming at me. I can't get comfortable. Its probably time for a new bed, just like it's time for a commuter vehicle, and it's time to pay off bills, and it's time to clean the house.. etc... knowing I need to do something doesn't mean I have the means OR the commitment to do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO, it's 9:15 PST, there are beautiful Geminids, and I don't feel like I can get my recently bathed butt outside to look at them.. for anyone who DOESN'T know me - stars, the universe and the many things that get blanketed into Astronomy are passions of mine. For me to blow them off says something&lt;br /&gt;maybe I need to go sleep, hopefully in a comfy position and start again tomorrow. The Big Kid has her Christmas concert tomorrow, and the picking out of the dress was QUITE the to-do. :) IT should be a good concert. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me blissful, restful, healing sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, just in case You're reading, I miss you. Vacation sucks, babe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-5194321609575671929?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/5194321609575671929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=5194321609575671929' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5194321609575671929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5194321609575671929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/12/old.html' title='old'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-1634741461899385692</id><published>2007-12-09T08:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T08:30:51.097-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heh</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I was reading my friend &lt;a href="http://elmocho.livejournal.com/"&gt;Chris&lt;/a&gt;' blog, and he had this link to this thing, and I went and did it and.... well.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I'd get like level 2, I mean, I've never even licked anyone's eyeball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;DIV id=testResultInfo&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;H1&gt;&lt;!--t--&gt;Your Score&lt;!--/t--&gt;: &lt;SPAN&gt;HELL LEVEL 3&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/H1&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;H2&gt;Raw score: 90%&lt;/H2&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;DIV id=testResultInfoImg&gt;&lt;IMG src="http://is3.okcupid.com/users/116/944/11694560292031626201/mt1120741098.gif"&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;There's a special place in Hell for you: the basement penthouse. You scored the nastiest possible score on the Sexual Hell Test. You have no sexual restraint whatsoever. You'll take pleasure however you can get it, and my guess is you get it &lt;I&gt;a lot&lt;/I&gt;. If for some reason you don't right now, you will soon, as people in your category only tend to spiral down ever deeper into the abyss of carnality and delicious sin. Congratulations.&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;I, personally, think that this category is the best. Paradoxically enough, sexual liberation and indulgence can only bring you closer to purity.&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;B&gt;AVOID&lt;/B&gt;: all but level 3 hellions like yourself. You wouldn't want to &lt;I&gt;ruin&lt;/I&gt; anyone, now would you? &lt;/P&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt;&lt;table cellpadding=20&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;!--t--&gt;Link: &lt;a href='http://www.okcupid.com/tests/3910728582630298788/Sexual-HELL'&gt;The Sexual HELL Test&lt;/a&gt; written by &lt;a href='http://www.okcupid.com/profile?u=jason_bateman'&gt;jason_bateman&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a  href='http://www.okcupid.com'&gt;OkCupid Free Online Dating&lt;/a&gt;, home of the &lt;a href='http://www.okcupid.com/online.dating.persona.test'&gt;The Dating Persona Test&lt;!--/t--&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... Who's busy Saturday? ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-1634741461899385692?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/1634741461899385692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=1634741461899385692' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1634741461899385692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1634741461899385692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/12/heh.html' title='Heh'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-8501899691799921806</id><published>2007-11-29T00:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T21:24:45.984-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lol</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEE9E9" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Penis Name Is...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFAFA"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/penisnamegenerator/peepee.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bald Avenger&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/penisnamegenerator/"&gt;Penis Name Generator&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Can't breathe.... laughing... tooo hard.....(snork)*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-8501899691799921806?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/8501899691799921806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=8501899691799921806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8501899691799921806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/8501899691799921806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/11/lol.html' title='Lol'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-270277734075863258</id><published>2007-11-28T07:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T07:52:24.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Confirmation</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="COLOR: #eee9e9" align="middle"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Inner European is Irish!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#fffafa"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/whosyourinnereuropeanquiz/irish.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Sprited and boisterous!You drink everyone under the table.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whosyourinnereuropeanquiz/"&gt;Who's" Your Inner European?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Heh, duh. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-270277734075863258?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/270277734075863258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=270277734075863258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/270277734075863258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/270277734075863258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/11/confirmation.html' title='Confirmation'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-1511819883860247141</id><published>2007-11-27T10:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T11:05:04.031-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to Joy</title><content type='html'>I love Beethoven's 9th. I also love the process of accepting joy, choosing joy. It's not always as easy as it seems, as it requires breaking some thinking processes I have gotten stuck into.. focusing on the negatives, looking at what I can't do, what can't be done, rather than what has been done, what CAN be done. I vacuumed my living areas today. To the average person, that garners a big "So what?" but for me, I dance and sing and celebrate that I don't have to look at ground up bits of popcorn in my carpet, that the floor is clear of clutter and glows with light. That's a good thing. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have most of the laundry done, which, again, accomplishment. How did I manage to kick so much booty? I'll tell you. I have a sick little boy. :(  He's been cleared from school until Thursday, which means I stay home with him... The ironic thing? Friday is my last day at work, and I find myself looking at a 2 day workweek. While I should rejoice in the time off before I start my shiny new job, I am looking at a loss in pay... pay I needed since I will not be getting a paycheck until mid December. Will I keep afloat? Probably, but it adds stress. My welfare will be cut, and I'm getting less pay until I start getting paid for my new job, and December's bills will still be here waiting for me, impatiently. And Christmas looms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I need to do is accept that Christmas will be focusing on feelings, atmosphere and tradition. Not physical gain. It's a pretty idea, but its hard to just buy into.. I love presents, I love giving them AND getting them. I also have 5 children who are less sold on the idea of "we're getting less this year" than *I* am. But for them to buy it, I need to also buy it... hence the struggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.. back to choosing joy. (If you wanted a cohesive blog, I will point you to &lt;a href="http://masthead.blogspot.com/"&gt;Magazine Man's&lt;/a&gt; blog, or, perhaps even &lt;a href="http://wilwheaton.typepad.com/"&gt;Wil Wheaton's&lt;/a&gt; or even my good friend &lt;a href="http://blog.kkorner.net/"&gt;Krista's&lt;/a&gt;. This is the dumping ground for things in my head, and while I wish I could have a great streamlined writing style, this is pretty much how my thoughts tumble about in my head, so I feel it's a more accurate representation of who I am, how I think, what I feel. Most of the time, I make sense, other times, not so much. It's a blog, not an essay.) Back to Joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D I have great friends, and family by choice.. They take care of me like no one ever has, they protect me, support me, encourage me, and ultimately, spoil the crap out of me. Liz's dad George showed up today with Starbucks and a Jack Ball for my van. Oh... I am SO loved. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday, when the safe filled with money falls from the sky at my feet, I will repay them, but until that happens, I laud them, love them, and try and think of ways I can give back to the people who have given me more than most people get in their lifetime. It builds on the joy I am learning to choose over pain and suffering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D I love my people who come by, dropping happiness on my doorstep and recharging me. I think they know how much I need it, but I hope they know how much I appreciate it. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shiny factor 8 today!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-1511819883860247141?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/1511819883860247141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=1511819883860247141' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1511819883860247141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1511819883860247141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/11/ode-to-joy.html' title='Ode to Joy'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-439722411699707687</id><published>2007-11-13T22:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T00:24:30.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MEME</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, so I ganked this from Krista, who ganked it from Kate Harding. :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The deal is, you type the answer to each question into a Google image search, and you pick an image from the first page of results. Lots of images after the jump.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Age at next birthday:&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://seds.org/messier/Jpg/m33.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. A place you'd like to travel :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.vesuvius.tomgidwitz.com/assets/images/Pompeii-dead.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. Your favorite place :&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://gbltc.asuw.org/pageimages/home.Spring.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;4.Your favorite objects:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.newvisionsbooks.com/nvimages/Crystals%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;5. Your favorite food:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://blog.kimvallee.com/images/blog_kimvallee_com/WindowsLiveWriter/Makingroomfordessertsateleven_C56C/elleatable_desserts_room11%5B5%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;6.Your favorite animals:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.funnypostcard.com/dog/peaches_pug.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Your favorite color:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.dv-graphics.com/desktopfiles/dppreviews/teal.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Town where you were born :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.hprcc.unl.edu/nebraska/DSC_0065-boise-sm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Town where you live :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.centralcoast-tourism.com/images/lompoc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Name of a past pet :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.unicornlady.net/images/Gallery/6-1/the_princess_and_unicorn.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. First name of a past love :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/MMPH/15907~Anthony-Hopkins-Posters.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. Best friend's nickname :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.kari-joys.com/images/angel-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. Your screen nickname :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://artfiles.art.com/images/-/Walt-Disney/Ariel-Dreams-Under-the-Sea-The-Little-Mermaid---Disney-Print-C10115862.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. Your first name :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.montgomerycountymd.gov/Content/DPWT/SolidWaste/graphics/pr/grasscycling/susanne_screwdriver.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. Your middle name :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.nndb.com/people/892/000094610/marie-louise-1-sized.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. Your last name :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="204" alt="" src="http://www.thefashionhouseinc.com/images/collage-tyler.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. Bad habit of yours :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2007/06/i-m-in-ur-internet-cloging-ur-tubes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. First job :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.surfersparadisephysie.com/images/Walkers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. Grandmother's name :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.hollywoodstandups.com/images/dorothyToto1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;20. College major :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.kent.ac.uk/music/music_symbol.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-439722411699707687?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/439722411699707687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=439722411699707687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/439722411699707687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/439722411699707687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/11/meme.html' title='MEME'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-1292910904492522162</id><published>2007-11-13T22:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T22:15:22.755-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SHINY!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Okay, so maybe I wasn't Hitler in another life. Maybe just a lackey. I got The Job. Not "A" job, but "THE" job, the one that's going to give relief to my struggling family, and make it so we can actually survive, THEN thrive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im beyond thrilled, elated, ecstatic, overjoyed, excited, happy, amazed, grateful and ... well, SHINY!!!!!! I am blessed by the best friends in the world, supportive, generous, amazing friends. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you to everyone who has poured love, support, charity, kindness and joy to me. I have needed it more than I ever thought possible, and it has kept me floating. I love you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shiny Susanne!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-1292910904492522162?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/1292910904492522162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=1292910904492522162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1292910904492522162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/1292910904492522162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/11/shiny.html' title='SHINY!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-9175017908985905780</id><published>2007-10-30T18:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T18:56:14.424-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Neurotically yours,</title><content type='html'>Some days, I feel like I'm more on top of the heap of crap that has built up and become my life. Other days, I am painfully aware I am standing on a slick piece of cardboard and about to hurtle headfirst into a particularly fetid pile of it.  How's THAT for an opener? Sometimes I find my foot in my mouth, or perhaps my head up other interesting and dark orifices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I was bratty. Hopefully, I managed to contain it to a minimally noticeable whine, but I definitely felt self centered and childish. I wanted attention, reassurance that all the monsters standing with numbers outside my door really had the wrong house, and weren't waiting for their turn to come up. :(  I went to bed with minimal fuss, but damned if I don't' feel guilty for not being a better friend last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my people very much, and I have been adding to the list of "my people." This should mean that I am more protective of my people, more loving, more understanding, supportive.  In most times, I really am. But I have moments I am not very proud of where I just don't do it. I just don't' do what I expect of myself. I'm probably harder on myself about it than most people would be, but dammit, I'm me. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my friends is going through a very very crappy point in her life, and I can't do anything to help. How crappy is that? and... a taste of what my friends have been enduring for years with me and my former marriage.  Only, she can't leave the person giving her shit, as it's a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blaaaargh. How crappy, huh? These people who have stood by me and kicked ass for me, and ON me.. I can't help them. How shitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do love my friends. If any of them have found their way here, I hope they know I mean it. I really, really do.   And one of you, I love as more than just friends. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll chalk it up to a learning experience and try and move on from here. Hopefully I DO learn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-9175017908985905780?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/9175017908985905780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=9175017908985905780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/9175017908985905780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/9175017908985905780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/10/neurotically-yours.html' title='Neurotically yours,'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-416918804146397367</id><published>2007-10-27T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T21:54:32.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Like Riding a Unicycle?</title><content type='html'>No, I have never ridden an unicycle, but the analogy is that once you do something, stop for a while, then pick it back up, it's like riding a bicycle, you just don't' forget how. What's it like for a unicycle?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't written in months, not because I don't want to, but my computer broke for a good month and a half, then... well.. sigh. I am very good at not looking at things I don't want to see. (hence the marriage and girlfriend crap) If I don't want to look at something bad enough, I'll ignore it as hard as I can. (like the stack of papers on my desk in my bedroom) I have been finding ways to make Susanne happy, and have succeeded in many of them... but I have noticed a large hole. My family. I have neglected my family because I work, because I am exhausted from only sleeping 4 hours a day. Because I am stressed out that I am trying to fly solo when I should be flying in a flock.  I imagine that it's the standard "single parent" blues. We struggle to make ends meet and in the end, neglect the people we're struggling for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To say I am overwhelmed is an understatement. To say I am struggling is like saying "It's gonna be a long swim back to shore" to someone in the middle of an ocean.  Filled with sharks.&lt;br /&gt;I have found someone who makes me feel shiny, and I have known him for years. Not as well as I am getting to know him now, but I feel like I've been friends with him a long while. He makes me feel things I haven't felt in a long time. The drawback? He's not in California. So, no real hugs. The other drawback? I have 5 people depending on me to Make It Work&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;TM  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;and if I can't manage that, not only am *I* fucked, they are too. I keep forgetting that I am THE most influential person in their lives. That just stops my heart, terrifying me. I don't' even have MY shit together, and I have to pretend I know what I'm doing so that when THEY come do this shit.. when THEY play "grown up" they will successfully know how to fool everyone else around them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have said it before, am saying it now, and will say it again : I didn't pick this. The Ex argues that I indeed did, but when you look at what I left, I defy anyone to say I should have stayed. No one would be stupid enough to do that. I didn't pick to be a single mother of 5, in a minimal job, struggling to even buy toilet paper. Meanwhile, he's across town, not paying me a dime. Not one. Have I asked? No. Should I ask? probably. Am I proud idiot for not being a bitch about it? Yep. Do I desperately want to DO this and not fuck up? .... sigh.. yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I do. So, that leads me to this quandary : how to do this, without fucking up, and making it LOOK like I have my shit together?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah. That's about as far as I got with it. But sometimes, all you need is to get the unicycle out before you tackle getting ON it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to hoping the sharks had chum before I began the swim.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-416918804146397367?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/416918804146397367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=416918804146397367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/416918804146397367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/416918804146397367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/10/like-riding-unicycle.html' title='Like Riding a Unicycle?'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-5858635713165908936</id><published>2007-08-27T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-27T10:13:17.455-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='surprise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>:D</title><content type='html'>Well, the title is a great indication of the mood of this post.  I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; loved and blessed to be related to people as generous, supportive and kind. My best friend and her wife had birthdays both today and Sunday (the 26&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; and 27&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;), and had a party planned for Saturday.  Now, I was "sick" to work Saturday.. my poor pants were just too ill to make it in. It happens from time to time. So, I went, helped spiffy up the house for her dad, and for us to just sit around and do whatever without going "well, shit, another can" (it also happens), her dad came, and started to bestow presents - only he started with me. I looked at him, surprised, since it wasn't my birthday.. not even for 4 more months! I figure, it's George. He has always been slightly bent, if not crazy, and it's probably just him trying to add to the goofiness factor, it's what he does.  We sit down, and he shoves a box at Liz and tells her to start.. it's a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Georgeball&lt;/span&gt; - a bunch of stuff wrapped in crepe paper in a ball.. you remove the paper and unearth layers of stuff.. I lost count at the number of socks he gave her, but it took her a while to get through it all. Liz, Cathy and I all got a bunch of VHS tapes, some with B grade movies, most with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;SNL&lt;/span&gt; sketches and comedians. I got Dr &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Phibes&lt;/span&gt;! (funny, I had just talked to Krista's beau about the movie, and lo and behold, there it was!)&lt;br /&gt;So, Liz is unwrapping the ball of doom, Cathy and I are tearing through our tapes of doom (she got a bunch of James Bond movies.. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;THAT'S&lt;/span&gt; cool) and they tell me there's more for me. More? It's not my fucking birthday. It's theirs, but THEY were in on it. Here I thought George was killing 3 birds with one stone, and they were all in on it! I open the big pink bag first, and right on top is a doll.. but not just ANY doll, a French vampire doll. My very own French Vampire. Oh, Oh they are very, VERY good.  I have been reading the Anita Blake series, and have been quite taken with Jean-Claude. For weeks, I have said "I need a French vampire." See what happens &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;when&lt;/span&gt; you tell creative people something? They make it happen. They took a Wedding Ken doll, and pimped him out, decked his jacket with lace, put a black wig on him.. Oh, Ken, you never looked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;sooo&lt;/span&gt; good. So, I got my own Jean-Claude. I turned a unique shade of purple-red, but there was more. OH yes, there was more. under him was a ducky with vampire fangs (fans who have gone to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Laurell&lt;/span&gt; K Hamilton's site will know the "tub toy" I'm talking about.. AT this point, I am furiously blushing and giggling stupidly. and everyone is watching me with glee. Damn people who love me.  But UNDER all that was a shirt... it says "Jean-Claude slept here" OH.. THEY ARE GOOD.  VERY VERY good. I have never glowed both from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;embarrassment&lt;/span&gt; and joy QUITE like this. :)  in the 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; bag is a bag of Starbucks coffee (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;YAY&lt;/span&gt;) , a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans, a gift card (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;OOOOOO&lt;/span&gt;) and a mug that has been personalized... to read (get ready for it) "Coffin Bait for Jean-Claude"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am loved loved loved loved loved and I don't even care that they picked on me so mercilessly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my birthday in August - I have never been a Virgo before, it was really cool. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-5858635713165908936?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/5858635713165908936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=5858635713165908936' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5858635713165908936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/5858635713165908936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/08/d.html' title=':D'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7633611977501178564</id><published>2007-08-16T20:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:33:52.072-07:00</updated><title type='text'>regret sucks</title><content type='html'>Today is the birthday of my ex-husband. The divorce isn't final yet, but the relationship is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wayyy&lt;/span&gt; over.  Last year, he turned 30, and I bought him a very nice hotel room, with a jacuzzi tub and fireplace. Why? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; my 30&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; sucked, sucked hard. I wanted my husband, the man I chose to spend my life with to have something beautiful, grown up and nice. Nicer than anything else I had ever had. I did not share the room with him. He took his girlfriend.  :) Yeah, his girlfriend. all our marriage, he had been looking at other women, talking online to women, searching for .... something... and eventually he found someone as stupid as me to want him.  She was 19 when we met in person. She insisted she didn't want to ruin our marriage, our relationship came first.  But as with ALL those extramarital affairs, that changed.  She wanted him full time.  Went as far as to say that the kids and I were in her way. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Now&lt;/span&gt;, I was friendly, and she asked me if I wanted her to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said no. OF course I said no. I said yes for HIM.. why would I say no now? bit by bit more and more of my marriage was taken from me and given to her. And it didn't start slowly either. 2 years later, he and I have THE fight about how she's more important than our family, and suddenly, *I* have fucked up. And now *I* must work very hard to put everything right. Now *I* must become perfect so he will not leave me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO he got a hotel room. I stayed home with the kids (as usual) and counted down until I could collapse and break down fully. I didn't make it to 8pm. More junk, hurt, etc.. and I left on our anniversary (the 8&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; wedding.. we'd been a couple since 1994) and here's his 31st birthday. I felt like I was doing just fine. He came and got the kids for his weekend with them.. I didn't like his new aftershave. I think the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Vandyke&lt;/span&gt; with the haircut is goofy. He's gotten tanned, maybe he's been working outside, or just laying in the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As big and bad as I try to become, I will always have that 17 year old girl inside me who moons after him. Who sees nothing but her Knight in Flesh Colored Armor. Right now, I'm a fat 33 year old divorcee with 5 kids (at their dad's this weekend) freaking out about making it to next month. I can't remember how he felt. I can remember his smell. I can remember some sounds. but I DO remember the disapproving look. His scorn when I was breaking down on Christmas because he'd spent all of my birthday so sick he didn't spend it with me. His total lack of regard for my emotional well being.  And I am acutely aware of how it has shaped the person I am. I am hard, I am cold, I am ruthless with some things. I regret later, but I act now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate that most of all. I am what I hate. I can change, right? How can I do that when I look at the house we lived in and see things according to how HE would have wanted them? and I feel this massive pressure between my eyes that they aren't as he wishes.  Still, he's there. He's here. he changed me. and I'm not aware of it when it happens. sigh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picking up and moving on, not something I'm proficent with. I want to have a happy life, a full life. I don't know where to start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One alligator at a time?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7633611977501178564?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7633611977501178564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7633611977501178564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7633611977501178564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7633611977501178564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/08/regret-sucks.html' title='regret sucks'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650469831598529358.post-7191424861141865748</id><published>2007-08-07T22:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-07T22:37:31.286-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='phantom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgia'/><title type='text'>Remebrance</title><content type='html'>Sometimes we forget who we are. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;People&lt;/span&gt; change, it's true, but some things stay the same - you like rainbows, ice cream, music, spirituality, whatever it is, you become defined by it. Sometimes those things take a back seat to something else in your life, but never really go away, you just need a reminder of that part of who you are, like a body part. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Phantom of the Opera, most specifically Michal Crawford's Phantom. I had forgotten just how amazing his performance of Phantom was. I had also forgotten about music, the call it has on me. I can hear music in my head anytime, anywhere, with full orchestral backing if it calls for it. Through time, the quality of the music will fade on me, and if I refresh it, it gets strong &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;again&lt;/span&gt;. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have kids, kids who don't have much of a musical education. Once upon a time ago, I used to sing, and I was fairly good; the choir kid, went to California All State Honor Choir in 1992 and 1993. I had a few solos. If I had been in a big city with more people, I would probably have been ignored, but I didn't grow up there, I grew up here, and I was pretty damn okay! I had wanted to major in music as nothing else in my life had ever been so strongly ME.  Susanne can Sing. it's a fact. Now, I'm not radio quality, and I'm certainly not Sara &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Brightman&lt;/span&gt; good, and I never was, but I can sing better than the average person, and the fact that no one has had bleeding ear drums just cements that for me ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My range has diminished through age and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;disuse&lt;/span&gt;. It's sad, and it hurts that I know I used to have wider range than I have now, but I can still sing strongly and steadily, and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt;' make people's ears bleed (always a plus) I had wanted to use my skill and become a music educator. Why? Because what else do you do with a degree in music? :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried to instill music in my children, but my reverence for it probably keeps me being a stingy ass with it. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to Mr. Crawford as Phantom tonight just reminded me "oh, hey, I have a hand here!" Pretty important piece of myself to leave off. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for tonight, I find myself being nostalgic, missing HIM.  Not the HIM that I left, but the HIM who stopped music entirely. I always hear songs. And for him, they stopped cold.  I thought it was because he focused me, he "completed me" (gag) maybe it was a warning I should have heard way back then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no illusions that I "would have been" anything, but I get nostalgic for the girl I was when I met him in 1992 (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-crash, thank you) and it makes my heart ache. its an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;immeasurable&lt;/span&gt; loss. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/650469831598529358-7191424861141865748?l=spookyfish24.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/feeds/7191424861141865748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=650469831598529358&amp;postID=7191424861141865748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7191424861141865748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/650469831598529358/posts/default/7191424861141865748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spookyfish24.blogspot.com/2007/08/remebrance.html' title='Remebrance'/><author><name>Spookyfish</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13971687634536847280</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_V_j6M72cokY/SFx6uZgPF1I/AAAAAAAAABE/Hkaz3D5YZr8/S220/Picture+039.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
