Today is a Happy Day. While I usually truly detest Monday, I can�t help but smile today. I�m sure I look like a geek, walking around with that stupefied �how did I get so lucky� grin on my face. I can�t wipe it away; I can�t cover it up. I truly feel like I�m blessed today. I feel blessed everyday to be alive, the lucky recipient of a second chance at life. And while I have no temple, no church, no tabernacle to sit in; the heart, my heart, is full of joy and thankfulness. See, even if I don�t recognize religion, I recognize God. How can you deny him? If you open your eyes to all the little miracles, babies, little birds, butterflies, the sky, flowers, life itself; you will see.
One more swipe of a butcher knife, or waiting another half an hour to be found that awful day of dawning, I would not be here. For a while, the following memory seemed to be a faint recollection. I wasn�t for sure exactly what it was. Now I know, it really did happen.
While I was in an out of consciousness, I missed a lot. I know I was in the hospital. That�s about it. I retreated into the corners of my mind because I was afraid. I didn�t want to wake up. All of the sudden, the world had become a scary and confusing place. I hurt a lot. It was safe in the dark.
I wanted to be with my mother, I felt her presence less and less. I sensed a light in the distance. Mom was fading from my surroundings quickly. I said, �I want my mommy. Mommy!! Come back, come back. Please don�t leave me here..� I was very sad, but I already knew somehow that she was going to God, and I wasn�t. I couldn�t see her well, there were some shadows and I only got a few glimpses of her face. What was different was that the years were erased off her face. I have seen pictures of her when she was 16; she looked like a youthful young woman again, untainted by pain.
That is something that lives in the far recesses of my memories; later knowing my mother had already went to the light and wanting to go with her, but being told it wasn�t my time yet. She smiled at me one last time and the light enveloped her. So she went and I stayed. That�s as far as I can delve into that memory. My mind won�t let me retrieve the rest of it. I can�t quite touch it.
A faceless and brilliant white benevolent spirit chose to pull me back from the light. A voice male and yet female said, �You are not ready to go yet..I have a job for you,� it said softly, and I came back. I really wanted to follow my mom to that bright place off in the distance, but instead I listened to the voice. I felt there was something important that I had to do. A job.
Here I am. If not for that gentle tug, I wouldn�t be here. I tell people that often, that I feel I was saved for a reason. As other people who�ve had Near Death Experiences will tell you; every day is another opportunity to appreciate the life you have, the people you love, and the world you live in. I know that most of the time I feel this way; only when I get angry can this �positivity� fade from me. Then, I feel very irritated that yet another time I am being tested. It goes as quickly as it comes.
* Happy Monday, y�all. It is a �Brand New Day�. For those of you that like Sting, and are familiar with the tune I mentioned, you know what it conjures up emotionally. It makes me feel hopeful. Today I feel that I am going to start living out a few of my dreams. It�s high time. Sometimes I get impatient for the day when I can be a true advocate and make a difference in the world, of course knowing it would only happen when God was ready. His timing is not always in sync with ours, but his is immaculate.
Ever get bored with your life? Ever wish for excitement, variety, a new outlook, resolution, and even closure? Lately, even though things had started to work out in my favor, like my sleep issues for instance, I�ve been sort of irritated at my inability to infiltrate this field, Victims Advocacy, the cause I�m so passionate about. Yeah, yeah, make fun of me; I�m an idealist. I happen to think, as Oskar Schindler did, that one person can make a difference.
This year, even while work was going well, Mr. Sweatpants and I discovered a true friendship and Jackie was becoming reacquainted with her father, I was restless. I guess I�m never truly satisfied that I�ve done enough. I�m worried that Mr. Lin*coln could be released and harm another family.
I�m not afraid he will come back for me. I will not live my life in fear of him. However, I�m worried that he and people like him will continue to be let out of jail and will continue to murder until they�re locked away forever, but not until after they slaughter mercilessly and recklessly all they desire to. They do not know what accountability is.
Rod*ney Lin*coln is a weasel; he had my mom convinced he was a �normal� human being. She would�ve never knowingly dated a violent ex-con or paroled �murderer�. Mom cared about her kids too much. I seem to remember hearing she had many opportunities to marry, but she was concerned that the man would mistreat her kids. She�d rather live in poverty safe with her kids, than in middle-class suburbia with someone who might abuse us. I find that admirable.
Mom went to great lengths to protect us. She wanted love, companionship and intimacy (as we all do) but she didn�t want to compromise her children. And for all of that she was rewarded with a violent death. I just don�t understand why, somedays. She hurt a lot in her life, had been through a lot, and she was crippled. I have to believe that death was a release from the pain, but I hate that she died the horrible way she did.
Why would anyone stalk another person; why not move on? Why would you let yourself get to the point of irrepressible anger and why would you put your hands on somebody in a way that could kill them? Why would you, even after hurting them, take it to the next step and finish them off? Why would your hurt little children and do it in such a savage way? Wouldn�t that bell go off in your head when you�d crossed that line?
That is something I�ll never understand.
I have an appointment with the guy from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch this week; I�m also meeting with the Circuit Attorney to discuss the case. It�s for my family. It�s so that they can ask questions so they will feel safer about the whole DNA review thing.
My dream about making sure my mom is never forgotten is coming true. This is for you, Mom.
In other Missy news, lots of fun things happened this weekend. Friday night, I was sitting on my couch plucking my eyebrows when
Mr. National Security called. Surprise, surprise. Man, I was feeling lucky. I mentioned I was puzzled by his not calling, but I also know I can be pretty intimidating for men.
They see me as a she-devil, a wildcat, or as a vixen. They worry I�ll be intense, as well they should. While I�m very picky about my male interests, I know a good man when I see one. I devour mostly everything in my path, like a female praying mantis, including food (which explains my big booty) and men I�m interested in are no exception. Unlike other women, I go in on sneak attack, reconnaissance mode, moving in for the kill in a quite calm, ladylike fashion. Only when I have completely captured them do they know what happened, and by then they are rendered defenseless. I am sneaky about getting someone�s attention. Why be overt when you can be dangerously stealthy? That�s more fun anyway.
Ask Mr. Sweatpants; he never saw me coming.
In the middle of my �beauty parlor� time, N called. He said, �I�m between a rock and a hard place,� and I had to laugh at what that conjured up. I say, �You have no idea,� giggling. He tells me he wants to get together, so I ask him for 20 minutes and told him we could meet up at Hooters. Note to self: when meeting anyone, do not meet at Hooters. The parking lot is full of young coeds trying to score.
Except for the fact that I had red bumps under my eyebrows, I was feeling pretty shag-adelic. So, I hop in the shower, hop out, put on some concealer (and it completely erased the redness), some war paint and my quite hypnotic perfume. Boyfriend didn�t stand a chance.
Well, I spend about ten years driving around the Hooters parking lot and finally find his fine ass. He wanders up to the car looking quite kissable. Meow! Have I mentioned this man is massive? I mean, like a grizzly bear. I was in love. I�m not gonna lie. He is a hunk of fine man.
He followed me to my house because I didn�t want him to drive, already having had a few drinks. I introduced Mr. Fine as Hell to all my critters. The rats were interested, as if to say, �Just one finger. That�s all we need.�
None of them bit him, a good sign.
We ended up driving around for a little bit, yapping about all sorts of stuff. I was worried because there was a lot of fog, but in the end it didn�t matter much. We have a lot in common. I found myself losing my concentration because his head mesmerized me. He shaves it. Men that shave their heads are beacons to me. I blindly gaze upon a shaved head like a deer stuck in headlights. I want my own Mr. Clean.
We went back to my house. The end. Make up your own ending here. It wasn't what you think.
Saturday, because I�ve been doing all my stretches, crunches, pushups, leg lifts, etc, I�m really hurting. All my exercising has caught up with me. I pop an 800-mg Motrin and attempt to do some laundry. Even though I hurt like someone dropped an anvil on me, I go through the day with a goofy smile, the same one I have today.
Saturday night, Lisa, Jennifer and I went out dancing. We all had a blast, but something was very wrong with my stomach. It had been sore all day, but it was now as tight as a knot. No more crunches for a few days. I felt bad, because I wasn�t dancing like I usually do with Lisa. She�s so sweet because she didn�t make me feel bad. Lisa gave me one of her Librex, which did relax it, but by the time I felt better, I was sober. Another note to self: do not drink well drinks with acidic juices in them. That made my stomach worse. Oh, the agony. My stomach felt like tanned leather.
I am not familiar with stomach trouble but I have a whole new appreciation for Lisa�s stomach and IBS symptoms. Poor baby.
Sunday morning I overslept and raced to Grandma�s to clean. We talked for a while, and I petted her stinky dogs. I told Grammy about my hot date on Friday. I can talk to her about anything, and she was very comfortable telling me to be careful about my heart. We also discussed flunky attempt at socializing Saturday night when I got tummy issues. I got a few �momma you look so yummy it hurts,� but that was mostly from my acquaintances. There�s one guy I always dance with; he�s always a gentleman.
So, I cleaned, we hugged, I left. I got the hell out of Dodge cause grandma lives in the St. Louis equivalent of South Central. I visit because I love my Grammy, who would kill me for calling her �Grammy� because it makes her sound old. Her neighborhood scares me.
I came home, watered my plants, and watered Iris� and Sandy�s plants.
It was a nice day. I felt like I had gotten a lot done. Restful.
Aaah. Satisfaction.
11:00 a.m. - 2003-06-09
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
%%older_entries%%
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