I wonder if men feel the need to attack one self as often as women do. Had a small issue the other day, a lady, (using that word with great pain) is more then willing to fulfill what she thinks my husband is lacking. Normal me would love to just go pick her up and show her that his needs are met, and if she don’t cool off the part of the anatomy that is guiding her, she may loose it in a very strange super glue accident. Of course since she is a co worker of my husband that would be not only improper but probably rude. Still deciding on that part though.

     This fact was related to me and since then I have been on the beat up me wagon, finding all the reasons my husband should fruck this woman, and if anyone is good at beating me up, it is me. It makes me wonder if woman are hard wire to do this to them selves. I would be lying if I said that I am the only woman who does this. Do men do this? Do they beat up themselves? Do they think them self lacking in areas that they think other men have and they don’t? Hubby says he has periods of doubt, I can’t see why. In the big scheme of things, he so got the worse of the deal in our marriage, no not being a martyr actually speaking the truth, it is what often happens when blue collar girl marries white collar boy. Sad but true fact.

     Why do women not only beat up themselves and keep their self esteem so low a snake can’t crawl under it, and even worse, women in general will drag another female through the gutter and into the muck quicker then anyone else. There is no sisterhood anymore, if there ever really was. What is wrong with the female mind. I am not really pro woman, I tend to give the secrets to the woman code away easily, think women are messy, and are very manipulating to get their own way. I was and have used many of those techniques to get what I want. I don’t think ALL woman are like that, I know a few good woman, but for the most part, we are pretty low. We will take a friends man in a heartbeat to boost our own self esteem for about 2 minutes. The day I decided to no longer do that, to not gossip behind someones back, and to tell a person to their face what I think. Is the day that I was kicked out of the coffee club, lost a lot of people that I had in my life, not that they don’t like me still, I honestly think that they have no clue how to relate to me.

    Anyways back to the floozie of the clinic, sheesh, how did I let a woman who I have never met or if I did meet was not memorable enough to remember, ruin my last 48 hours. She has a man, how can she disrespect him, and me? Is that what the world is coming to? And while I am at it, I want to know, even though its like 90 degrees away from what started this, why if someone says Thank God, I’ll pray for you, and any other platitude like such they are automatically a Christian? I have always thought that its the fruit that you put out that defines that. I have seen a few that have a calling from God, they are self proclaimed preachers, (and God strike me down if I am insulting your actual anointed one) that do not walk what the heck they are talking.  Sheesh are there no real people in the world anymore.

    Anyway, has this self destruction become the new fad, or am I just being melodramatic now that I am off the psych meds… lol.

     February 14th,a day of love, one men often dread and women even if the say they aren’t into it, still expect recognition, a love letter, a flower, a candy, etc. Lord help the men who wives are into it. Do good or no sexy time for you for the next year. I think about love alot, everyday actually, the love of a woman and a man, a mother and a child, family love, friend love, love between me and my furry children…lol

     I have come to the conclusion that I have grown, and in that growth I no longer see love in the way I did at 15, 25, or even 35. At those ages I wanted the butterflys in my stomach, the undivided attention, the romance, the unrealistic demands women often make on men to prove they love them. ( And before you say that men make unrealistic demands, this is about me and being a woman, I speak of what I know) Women want the romance to last the entire relationship, but as the relationship grows, the romance changes and instead of maturing with it, they complain that its not like in the beginning when the relationship was new.

     I have learned that love, true love, matures as you grow old together. Do I like the fluff, sometimes  I do, more on the just because  days, then the its Valentine’s day kind of fluff. In exchange for the gushy mushy stuff, ( And yes hubby is still very much the romantic, more so then me,) I get a love that continues to evolve as we do.

     My love is holding my hand during the road trip, from to the first trip we ever took together, to 4 years later with out fail. Its getting up at night and letting our furry kids out to potty or to bark or to just see if they will be let out and never complaining that its an every night thing, just so I can sleep the few hours life allows me. Its loving my daughter, and our grandson like the is nothing more precious and giving to them with out thought. Its dealing with crazy in laws, annoying ex’s, and people from my past and never not once saying that its to much, or forbidding me the access to them. Its watching Criminal Minds back to back for hours and then buying books about the same stuff because I like that kind of stuff. Its cooking sushi for 5 night a week for over 3 months because it was my fave to eat.

      My love has matured in ways that only someone with my kind of past could appreciate, he holds me close when I cry over things I hear and see. When I go psycho on him and he can’t do anything right, his solution is not to scream back but to ask me to snuggle with him, to get me out of the minute. Its crying with me when I have lost all hope and can not go one more day, then carrying me until I can do it myself. He never judges, never complains, never asks me to be different and  loves me as I am and promising to love me till Dad comes home, with out asking me to be different. He accepts me as I am, baggage and all.

      Its hard to say all he does for me from the little things to the magnanimous things, because there is all so many. He gets me pressies, he blesses me with more HP money that the law should allow. If I get the urge to take 500.00 dollars from our account an give it away to someone I feel needs it, he never asks why, who or anything, he trust that I am making the right choice. The most he has ever said, was let me check the budget. It is those things that show me that he loves me, of course I still look at him and get the goofy, butterfly feeling, but that is something I started feeling after we started seeing each other, the more we grow old together the deeper I fall in love with him.

     Love to me is respect, its accepting who I am and not trying to change me, its smiling at my quirks, and laughing at my questions because of their simplicity. Love to me is more than flowers, chocolates,  or mushy gushy stuff. Its for once in my life knowing that the man I am with would die for me, a luxury that I never had before, and believe it. Its been 4 years come May, and my trust level grows more with each passing day, and yet he is still holding on to me, and allowing it to grow without  walking away because it hasn’t grown quickly. He treats me  like a treasure that was found at the bottom of the sea, marveling at the things he finds both good and bad. He has never once disrespected me in public and better yet never in private. He has never called me names, even in the heat of a fight, he allows me to be stupid and then will calmly talk to me about why I just exploded. He will cry with me when I just don’t get life or how my family just threw me away, or how someone could hurt an animal,  or for any reason and not feel his manhood slipping away.

      Love to me, is my husband, who with out him, I would not be me.

                       I love you Ish!

     WOW!! Who in their right mind would think that I would have made it to 47, I know I didn’t, I look back at the child abuse, the molestations, the  over doses, the suicide attempts, the beatings, the rapes, the life I had and its a wonder I made it to 30, little long 47. I know, kicking 50 in the butt big time. Its a wonder I learned anything through all that. It only took me till I was around 44 to be able to start looking at life in a more healthy way than I had been. No I am still not in a totally healthy place in my head, but I am better than I was last year, or the year before or 10 years before. 

      Things I have learned, well the sucky ones are easy, just because some ones says they love you and will never leave you, doesn’t mean they will feel the same way after 7 years. Family does not always stand behind you, or want you to have a healthy view of life. People will fail you, its up to you to decide whether to keep them in your life or not. Not everyone will like you, and often they do not tell you that they don’t, they will use you till there is nothing left to get and leave you with out telling you why they are leaving. Not everyone tells the truth, sometimes the things they believe are not exactly what is real. Its only real to them. I learned that when people look back on memories they often are not the same as how you remember them. Motive often changes your views of the past. You will trust people who are not trust worthy and will get hurt because of it. You lose people, animals and things  you love, I learned that just because you get older does not mean you get wiser. If you are stuck in the same mind frame as you were at 20, then you will still have the views of that 20 year old. You have to progress with life or you stagnate. There is so much more that hurt to learn, but in the hurt I grew, some for the better, some for the not so much better.

      Now the good stuff that I have learned. If you love, it will not come back void. Maybe not who you think you should love but someone who you never thought of loving you will be drawn to you. I learned that not everyone wants something from you, some just want to be with or know you. That life will be bad some days, and great others, but in the big picture its how you accept them that will define what lingers on in your heart. I learned that being sick and in pain does not have to paralyze you. As long as your brain is still functioning, the world is your playground. Faith is real and so are miracles, my faith grows as I look back at all that could of, should and would of happen had not my Father in Heaven put his hand on me. Life is scarier than death, even if your not a “christian”, death can not be any worse than life is now. Dogs will love you even if they have been abused, they have personalities and are more than just dogs. They can easily teach you to love if you allow them. I learned that there are good men in the world, that even with faults their kindness, love and just all around goodness blinds you to those faults. Not all women have to be your enemy, some are beacons in a dark world. I am not sure if the bads out weigh the goods on learning over the years, but the fact that I can look back and see that I have learned is a major plus.

       My goal now is to learn how to not let the past hurt blind me to the pleasures of the now. To not be colored by choices people in my life have made that for my own health and sanity I had to walk out of their lives. I want to be able to trust again, to have close relationships with people. To allow the good in people outshine the bad. I get scared that the opposite will happen and I will be a bitter old woman, living on my land with my 5000 dogs. I pray that I don’t turn jaded and bitter. But in my depression it is often how I feel when I am around people on the net, in the mall, or just grocery shopping. I want to learn how to not focus on the self centerness, the selfishness and the out and out cruelty. I want to go back to seeing the good in all.

       Happy Birthday Mrs. Hicks, you are a survivor and in 47 more years, maybe you will be able to look in the mirror and say, Girl you did good.

     You would think a 46 year old woman would know who she is by now, but I am realizing that I know myself less and less everyday. I have always been somebody’s daughter, sister, mom, wife, mistress, lover, etc…  Now that I don’t have a role to play, I am not sure who I am. I was the ice princess for so long that it became who I thought I was. It kind of scares me, what if I never find out who I am. I am walking away from relationships, the ones where you never are sure if those jabs with kind words are  a real nice thing to say or a dig at something I did.  Which leaves me with  very few people in my life.

     I wonder if maybe its been me all along ending the relationships and just forgetting to tell myself I did. I wake up and want to strive for something, have motivation but I really can’t find anything to have passion for. I have so many ideas and no urges to follow through on them. Fear maybe? I saw a restaurant impossible one day where Robert Irvine told a cook, are you afraid of success? I am not sure I am, I can’t get pass the getting started part.

      I am so tired of the drama in my life, drama that I am not in anyway involved in, never talk to the people who are causing it but because I was born into that family I am always included. Never any good said about me, I am always trying to steal this child, talking trash about that person. If its negative I am probably the one that did it. Big reason for the break, I love them, I just can’t stand them. My mother used to tell me when I was growing up, you can love someone with out liking them. I understand that concept now. I can’t help and wonder if maybe that I am that person they talk about. Is my reality so far gone that I dont see it? Or do they need to blame someone and I am a convenient whipping post.

      I have a good life, a husband who would climb to the moon if I said I wanted it, just to see me smile. A daughter and son in law who have their life but occasionally lets me into it to be mom and grandma. I am not hurting financially, we are a little strapped after the last year but its coming together slowly but surely. A home, food, furry kids who love me. A pretty good life, I am a child of the most high and have a personal relationship with him. Yet I keep thinking there is more. I don’t blog much anymore, I keep it in my head, not even sure why I do. Maybe its because its the same old crap over and over, just different people.

     Its funny, come October 29th I will be drug free for 12 years. On days like today where it seems its take a pop shot at Dhana day, I sure miss that fix. I miss not caring what people say, do, etc. Anyone who says that you can’t get your feelings hurt on the internet is not on Facebook, I see it all the time. I talk about getting from the drama yet I still log in everyday to be engulfed by it. I believe the internet is truly Satan’s world and everyday I get confirmation of it over and over. Because your in the privacy of your own home you think you can say or do what you want on the net and there is no harm, no foul. There is no responsibility.. something no one wants to take anymore. Maybe you will never meet that person on the other end of the internet, but what you say whether good or bad will forever live in the mind of the person you said it to.

    They say you can tell a true follower of Jesus by the fruits of their spirit, I pray that I have those traits, if I am never anything more than his child than I think that is just fine. Maybe my dissatisfaction comes from aching to do more for him, and not anything external. I pray that I find the answer to who I am. I just know that I walk around in a haze knowing there is more and not knowing where to find it. Or at least thinking there is. I am so confused anymore, seems what I know is right for my sanity, sobriety, and life often contradicts what the world says I should be or do. I do not have a history of making good choices for myself, can I trust that I am doing it now?

     I have studied childhood sexual abuse for as long as I can remember, not sure if it was to help me or to someday help others but it is a constant drive in me to find out, if not the whys, then the how to survive it and become a thriving, healthy member of society. Sexual abuse is one of those dirty little secrets that even though more people talk about and advocate about it, few will stand up and say I was a victim and this is what happen. Its easier to think about, deny it, or use as a reason for the bad choices you have made my life. It frustrates me to know end when someone is having a hard time in life and instead of getting up and trying to do something about it, they prefer to sit on the couch and whine, oh I have such a hard life, I don’t know what I can do. Then when you suggest something, like counseling, its oh I could never tell what happen to me, it was just to horrible. Or when they use sexual abuse as an excuse to hate there mother, “because she allowed it”. You know the best revenge is to get your head on straight, forgive the monster who did this to you, and move forward in a healthy, productive manner. Then they no longer control you, and you can’t even say, well I am not that strong, I don’t have what it takes to get over it,it was just to horrible. It is horrible for every child that has to go through this, and the reason they are called survivors is because the abused ended and they survived it. If you live on the crutch of molestation, you let your molester win.

      I have been blogging for a long time, and most the time its things I have to get out because I just don’t get it. I can’t understand why people act they way they do. I have family members who are “christian” yet they are judgmental, prideful, and would rather believe a lie than accept the truth. I just found out that the family who I was raised in actually wants nothing to do with me. Now I am not sure if its because I am loud and clear on who my abuser was, or if they choose to believe the lies that my wonderful sister tells. God needs to really pour his love on her, because at this time, forgiving her is about the only thing I can handle. Why do people prefer to believe its all lies and punish the one who was abused? They would rather to think that the adult who tells the story of her childhood is a liar, then to deal with the fact that, their relative was a very sick individual and did these horrible things. Do they really think that if you say it didn’t happen that it makes it so. Why do people who have done horrible things, and have repented and paid for the sin, just move forward and admit it, and try to help others stop their abuse. I know quite a few “Christians” who would rather lie about who they were so they present themselves holy, then to use what they have gone through as a testimony to what God can do.

       Will the one abused ever outlive the residual of the abuse? Funny how you can stop being abused, grow up, your abuser die and yet its the family left behind that reminds you of the things that happen and make you feel as though even at 7 it was your fault. Why punish the child and protect the monster? I worry about my grandson and the people who he  goes around, not only for the sexual abuse, but the mental abuse and the physical. It hurts to be raped and abused, but I have a harder time with the psychological abuse, it is the thing that keeps me in the I am worthless mode. When you tell someone that they are fat, ugly, dumb, a slut, causes all the probs in a family, etc. That stuff sticks, and its even worse when you say mean things and then follow it with, ” I was only joking”, it makes you feel as though, 1. You shouldn’t be so sensitive and 2. You can’t take a joke. Oh come on now, if it hurts you, no matter if they were joking or not, you have every right to tell them to fruck off. Even in humor its not ok to abuse someone. Someone made a statement the other day, and my ex repeated it to me and was laughing about it, The statement made me feel like a failure, someone who could never or deserve to have anything new because I don’t take care of it. None of what was said was true, but the impact even if it was a joke still cut like a knife. 

       When you can not go to your family for support, to be made feel as though you matter, to cry on their shoulders, then who can you got to? I know friends are great, and I have some who would listen in a heartbeat, but if I can’t trust the people nearest and dearest to me to be there, then trusting anyone else is even harder. I guess finding out that a family I called aunt, cousin, sister, all feel that because I was not born in to the family that I am not family pisses me off. Yeah I know, if thats how they are then you don’t need them, your right, but when its a belief that you had for 39 years, it really sucks to find out that you were never wanted, liked or thought a part of. People when you marry and you have kids already, know that its not just you, the object of your affection, it the extended family to, and its a myth that you can move away and cut them out of your life. Your kids grow up and they will wonder why thier step mom or dad’s family doesn’t think them a part of the family.

    Ok I vented, and I will rage on this for a very long time, or at least a week, because I hate that when a soul that has gone through so much injustice in their life already, has a  family that will scrap the scabs off and pour salt on the wounds, just for the sake of keeping the lie perpetuating. 

     Once in a life time a person comes along who becomes more to you then you thought possible. Your that person, from the first minute I saw you, I knew you were trouble..lol. I look back at that time on the other sight and see how much you have changed for the better. You were the first to be kind to me with out mentioning my boobs, ass, or anything sexual. I fell for that tactic, even though it seemed you were keeping me at arms length.

     We talked of God, faith, food, and what ever came to mind, and when I would flirt and try to seduce you, there you would set and tease but never be improper. Can you believe how far we have come since then? We can’t keep our hands off each other. I would not have it any other way. You fed my mind, and nourished my soul. You had just been hurt deeply by someone you trusted, I was being hurt constantly by someone I trusted. Yet though we felt we could trust no one, we trusted each other. When God told us he made us for each other before we were born, it was like we had already known that.

     Everyday while I put you through my craziness, my family drama, the turmoil my soul is going through, you never waver, you stay steadfast and true. I thank you for that, I love how your face lights up when Desi and Jr. come over, or when that grandson of ours looks at you so intently and then smiles real big. You are the rock that God has given me to make my day to day bearable in my depression. I am not only learning to trust deeper in God, but also deeper in you. I may go through hell doing it and drag you along, I know I am better today then I Was last month.

     I just wanted to say thank you, and I love you. As your breezing through your daily dozen you will eventually find this, and it will show you that from the time I get up to the minute I sleep you are always my thought. You have given so much to so many, and I feel for once its your turn to be loved with out condition, and care for without expecting anything in return. To be adored because not only are you God’s favored son, but because your an amazing man who I was blessed to have in my life.

     I adore you my Ish, I truly was made to love you, to find you, to adore you, to be there for you. With out you, I would not be finding the better me.. Te’ Amo, Mi Amor..

     Dark night of the soul is a metaphor used to describe a phase in a person’s spiritual life, marked by a sense of loneliness and desolation. It was coined by St. John of the Cross, a priest, carmelite friar, and mystic of the 16th century. For a christian who hungers, strives and lives only for Father God, it is a painful, hurtful way to wake up one day, when it seems like the one who was beside you always is no longer there. I have been going through that for a few weeks, maybe months. I can not ever say I knew what it was like to not have God there talking to me, encouraging me, being with me. He was the one stable thing in my life. 

     But for a while now, it seems like he never answers to me any more, now most will say that a prayer answered is him talking to me, answering me, but for me its different, I would have conversations with my Lord. He wold answer me like talking to my husband and his responding would be an answer. Father God is a real, solid, entity in my life. I do not move with out him. I live only to please him, which was really super easy when he was there to tell me what he wanted.

     With his silence, I become unsure, hurt, worried that I did something to drive my father away. In my normal every day life, I have driven many people away from me, not all was my fault but all was mine to blame myself for. So when I am talking to my Dad, and he doesn’t answer, well that means I must of did something. Don and I have discussed it alot, and I have shed many tears over this. I have started reading Come be my Light by mother Teresa, she to went through a time where she felt Father God had rejected her. Of course many told her, that just from the work she is doing and how blessed she is at helping others, the work she did for father God showed that he had not forsaken her. To her though, it was more personal, to her he blessed her worked but shunned her. I to know this feeling, especially tonight. A prayer was answered, the land we are on will be ours eventually. It was touch and go as to whether we would be able to buy it our not, and I had mention to Don that we actually have no one who we can ask for prayer who truly understands what and how we walk with our Lord. No offense but if your a standard go to church Sunday and Wednesday, tithe to the church type of person, its rare to believe a person who say I talk with God and yes he answers me. Not that some don’t believe me, but most think I am a looney.

     Anywho, no sooner had I gotten that statement out of my mouth when Don found an email from the owners of the land who are willing to work with us so that the acreage will be ours. God not only listen to my prayer and tale of woe, but answered almost immediately. Yet, my heart hurts, though he answer’s my prayers, I have still not heard his voice, felt his touch, his scent fill my nostrils. My ache for him is so great and makes me so sad. I only seem to function lately, not really live. I want my daddy back, I want to climb in his lap and tell him my day.

      This sadness is almost all consuming, a wrenching deep in my heart. Its as though a piece of me is no longer here, and I need it to live. I have had a few tell me that it is my fault that he is not walking with me like he used to, that I did this to displease him, or that to lose favor. Yet in my heart I know  I have not done anything. Or will ever do anything to displease my Lord. So I wait and pray, read and pray, cry and pray that ,my Lord will soon whisper in my ear, I am here my beloved. I do not think most will even understand what I have written, or they will write me off as a crazy Jesus freak, but bottom line this is for my Father, to show that I love him and should he kill me I will still love him always. For him to know, that I will never sway and will wait for him forever if it takes that long, only to please him. I am no mother Teresa or St. John, just a lost kid who misses the one she loves most. But like them, I will be faithful no matter the cost.  

     Where you 9/11/01? It is quickly becoming the where were you when Kennedy got shot, for this generation, as the Kennedy Assassination was to our parents, and Pearl Harbor Day was for our grandparents. I pray that my child and grand child will not have this type of remembrance in their lifetime. With society the way it is now, I suspect they too will have something that will forever scar their heart. 

     My husband is a retired Major from the army, on 9/11 he was at work at the Pine Bluff Arsenal Base, he remembers them shutting down the base, no getting on, or off for 2 days. I am sure each person has a story about where they were, what they were doing, and how it impacted their lives. It was the one time America came together as a whole and patriotism reigned supreme. The after math brought both the worse in us and the best in us. Racism was at its all time high, if you were Muslim, looked Muslim, or were friends with muslims, you were easy to hate. We could not take it out on the ones who did it, but we could sure abuse the next best thing.

     So many of us remember the smells of that day, the sounds, the fear, life as we knew it no longer applied, we were not as safe as we were the day before. We had just became vulnerable. We realized that there were monsters, and they walked among us. You never could be sure any longer if the man that owned the store on the corner was not harboring a big secret that would affect everyone’s life. Many of us realized that we had taken our security for granted, that America could not give us the protection we  thought it could.

    I wonder if this was the way they felt when the bombs hit Pearl Harbor, and now it is 60 years later and again we are reminded that the enemy can touch us. How did we forget that lesson so long ago, why did we have to repeat our past? Do we become lax in our diligent behavior? Did we assume we were safe enough? No one could attack the USA, no one would dare. Yet someone did and they did dare and here it is 10 years later and we are crying over the loss of innocence, mine and yours. This should be a constant reminder of the strengths and weaknesses of the USA.

     9/11 has a different meaning for me, I to smell the smells, the sounds, the vomit in the pit of my stomach that want to hurl its self to daylight. Even though I understand the constant news coverage, the constant posts, the constant reminder, it also reminds me of that day and what I was doing when I found out. I was laying in bed crying when my mother called me to turn on the news, I had just been raped and sodomized by a man that I thought was a friend. I thought the world was ending both literally and figuratively. It was through hurt, shame and pain that I watch the news show over and over the planes going into the twin towers. I do not think I realized how bad it was.

      Hold close these memories to you heart, do not let all this hoopla fade into the darkness until next year, when it comes around, do not let it be at the 20th anniversary, that we are reminded of this tragedy. When we become complacent is when we are again with our walls down and easy to be attacked again. And if you come across someone who does not want to endure all this, who would just not rather talk about it, do not think them unpatriotic, think of them possibly being someone who is like me, who’s death was very close to home, it could have been their own tragedy that is keeping them for wanting to remember 9/11.    

      Be original, just like every one else. I am starting to see that more and more now days. I do not think anyone thinks for themselves anymore. Well maybe a few but they are the exception. I was going to see the grandbaby and listening to the local country station . They were talking about movies and how so many are really remakes of movies from the 80’s, like Footloose, Dirty Dancing, Flatliners, etc. That tells me the writers they have hired since then have no ideas of their own, they have to take success and see if they can steal a little of the glory that went with the show they are remaking.

      Shoot join facebook, you will see more copy and paste then anything, things that are not true, and even when you tell them its not true, you will still see friends copying and paste it again. Does anyone look for the facts any more before they post? Now days you don’t even have to research deep, sites like Snopes are out there that searched for you. I see post this on your status messages alot, just for one hour let people know you support diabetes, cancer, stupidity and I think what does that do to help the person who actually suffers from these maladies. In the time it takes for me to copy and paste, I could write a check out, swipe my card, or give a dollar to help more than me putting look at me I support on my status. And before you say, Dhana, I don’t have that type of money, bills are due, no work, blah, blah, blah, you do not have to give alot, just one day go with out that soda and drop that money in that can, make that pack of cigarettes last twice as long and donate the money for that one pack. Can you tell that is my pet peeve?

        My hubby attends college and it drives me crazy how some of the students go with the fad of the minute and want to copy them, for example Gorden Ramsey and Hells Kitchen, ok maybe Mr. Ramsey is a great chef, but his fame is from abusing people, and on his show he puts people that are just as ghetto as he is sometimes. I am pretty liberal as a christian, cussing does not bother me, but when I watch the show the one time to see what the hullabaloo was about , I was offended, and Lord knows it takes a lot to offend me. Why would I want to eat at a restaurant where the chef has no respect for himself, or others. Screaming bytch out the window, and trying to shove a champagne up the ass of your team mate is just not someone who I would want to handle my food. But people adore that man and want to be like him, if you have to copy chose someone who is a little classier, Bobby Flay, Emeril Lagasse, etc. they can get things done in their restaurants with out insulting, humiliating and making you feel like pond scum. Sorry honey but from what I have seen of your instructors, they think being a chef is abusing you students, co workers and others. For the record, you better not scream or humiliate our staff or we will have to play some grit ball.

     Why can’t people be truly different, OMGee, not copy someone and make their own amazing way in life. It can be done, look at Food Networks newest star, he climbed his way up being the sandwich king, now I have never ever heard anyone be that, and I am not sure I agree that making every meal a sandwich and every sandwich a meal is a good thing. But the man did it as his self, and you can’t say he was trying to be anyone but himself.

     If you have to be original like every one else, ( you know that is a tongue in cheek expression right?) why not be like someone who is kind, caring,smart, some one who you never really notice, but can feel the difference they make when you need  it the most. As for the movies, I will not be watching them, no one can ever replace Patrick Swazey when he says ” No one puts baby in a corner” or the goofy grin Kevin Bacon has when he is teaching Bull to dance.  I will stick with the originals..

      I had a friend once, ( one of the saddest sentences to say is I had a friend once) that loved the quote,” You can’t make someone love you, all you can do is be someone who can be loved. I used to think that is a great way of thinking, but lately I have been looking at myself, as you know I do that often, and I realized that is almost an impossible achievement, I can’t make myself someone who can be loved, shoot 95% of the time I am grateful if I am liked. I have a bad attitude sometimes, I am opinionated, I can be hard headed, I can often just be not a pleasant person to be around, I know, its hard to believe, shocking almost, (wink) and he still loves me, with all my faults he loves me, especially when I am at my most unlovable times. I saw a movie once and the woman told the man, he was a breathtaking example of Father God’s love for her, and that is how my Ish is, he, like God loves me when I can’t even love myself. When I am in the dark he has to drag me into the light, lots of time kicking and screaming, but he don’t give up. 

       I think that is true love, my Ish thinks we do not prepare our children for love, real love that is, when they ask how do they know if they are in love or not, most parents say, you will just know. LOL.. well I knew at least 100 times during year 13, to me every crush I had was the one, didn’t matter I would never meet Parker Stevenson ( Hardy Boys),  but I know it was love, true love, at least until Sam Elliot came along. How do you explain that though when they are feeling is love, its sometimes not the kind you plan forever for. No white dress, no 2.5 kids, no mansion in the Hampton’s. Shoot not even a trailer in Bodunk Texas.

       My Ish believes that if people would read 1st Corinthians 13:4-8, if you can find someone who has a majority of those traits, then you have someone in love with you, the forever kind of love. If you can’t do those things for the person you think your in love with then guess what, it probably is not true love. It is a great guide line to follow, it seems there is a stigma about people waiting to get married till they find the right one, its ok to wait, if I had waited for the right one, I would not have had more men in my life then proper and 2 divorces behind me. In case you don’t know what that scripture say here it is:

4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 

I know that it seems easy, but its not when your body is saying oh yea this is the one, and your brain is planning the wedding. We just assume the heart is going along. We gloss over warning signs, refuse to acknowledge that little zing we feel. Then when its to late, 3 broken ribs, a broke nose, a broke thumb, and countless other injuries, (thanks Ronnie) then you decide its time to leave. ( It took more than that for me to leave).

Ok so your not a christian then here is another thing I read, it is sound advice, I have blogged on it before, especially when it comes to internet relationships, don’t get me wrong, I met Ish on the internet, and I know quite a few who have met, wed and have long great relationships. But if you fall in love under a week, and move them in by the end of the month, there is a good chance that its not going to last, its not true love. (Sorry David)  I met Ish, it took a year almost for me to move in with him and another before we got married, seemed kind of quick but 2 years to marry, is not really fast.

               Love or Infatuation

     Infatuation is instant desire. It is one set of glands calling to another.
     Love is a friendship that has caught fire. It takes root and grows, one day at a time.
     Infatuation is marked by a feeling of insecurity. You are excited and eager, but not genuinely happy. There are nagging doubts, unanswered questions, little bits and places about your beloved that you would just as soon not examine too closely. It might spoil the dream.
     Love is quiet understanding and the mature acceptance of imperfection. It is real. It gives you strength and grows beyond you to bolster your beloved. You are warmed by his/her presence even when he/she is away. Miles do not separate you. You want him/her nearer, but near or far, you know he/she is yours and you can wait.
     Infatuation says, “We must get married right away! I can’t risk losing you!”
     Love says, “Be patient. Do not panic. Plan your future with confidence.”
Infatuation has an element of sexual excitement. If you are honest, you can admit it is difficult to be in one another’s company unless you are sure it will end in intimacy.
     Love is the maturation of friendship. You must be friends before you can be lovers.
     Infatuation lacks confidence. When he/she is away you wonder if he/she is cheating. Sometimes you check.
     Love means trust. You are calm, secure and unthreatened. Your beloved feels that also and makes them even more trustworthy.
Infatuation might lead you to do things you will regret later, but love never will.
 Love is an upper. It makes you look up. It makes you think up.  It makes you a better person.

Anyways, back to this being a person that can be loved. If you find a person that loves you when you are unlovable, then you won’t have to make him love you, he truly wants to love you. Its a rare, wonderful, experience, but when it hits, you do know it, because its not like anything you have ever felt before. ( When I met Ish, I wanted nothing to do with him..lol)

There are alot of ways to love, I have loved some amazing men in my life, you know who you are when you read this, as you often do, but it was not the kind that was meant for us to build a life on, though we thought it was.

If you want that long, forever love, leave your genitals out of it, use your brain and some common sense, and maybe you won’t find the “One” when your 43. I learned that part from my level headed daughter who found her Ish and married him before her 21st birthday.