early to rise this morning.

My company is having its "goal setting breakfast" for the new year.

we will dine on cold eggs and optimism.

and the souls of kittens.

Can someone, anyone please find who ever is responsible for the Hillary Duff song "To The Beat Of My Heart" and shank them?

I would say shank Hillary Duff, but she is just a meat puppet whom with out whatever miracle made her a pop star would just be some mediocre looking high school chick no body liked.

I don't even know why I turn on Mtv. Its like watching a monkey fuck a football...only not as entertaining.

silly munkeh!

I crashed out at like nine. Oh blessed sleep, why has thou forsaken me?

so I wake up at 1:00 am and cant go back to sleep....precious sleep.

So I open up drudge, and on the cover is that beady eyed butt baby from a pig whore of a leader of Iran dancing on the grave of Sharon before he is even dead and Pat Robertson interjecting that maybe this is god's punishment...and then I get to ponder religion on it more ugly merits for a bit. I'll save you from that diatribe and offer a charming tale from my youff instead...cause it is funny and ironic (now).

When I was a little girl, in my first foster family, I embraced their religion (christianity, catholics) whole heartedly.

I needed to believe what they were telling me, about a god man that loved me and if I just had the faith of a mustard seed all things were possible.

 So being the weirdo that I was (am) I one day decided to show god that I had faith and loved him and his son and was grateful to their presence.

So in my great wisdom I collected all of my favorite things. Mostly rocks and fossils. I liked and still like rocks and fossils that I find here and there, but anyway..I put these precious and humble things into a box, climbed up my favorite tree...to the tippy top...where it bent under my 8 or 9 year old weight, and proceeded to try and throw the box up to god.

cause you know, if you have the faith of a mustard seed, you can move mountains and crap...and boy, i had a whole jar of mustard. I was throwing crap to heaven! Just try and stop me!

well of course, when i threw it up, it didn’t take long to go crashing down to the ground...and i reasoned that I wasn’t concentrating on my faith enough...

so I climbed down and retrieved my box of precious things.

and climbed back up the tree.

with all my mighty might  I closed my eyes and prayed really really hard, and tensed up my entire body till it hurt and tries to push my love all the way up to heaven...and flung the box into the air again.

and it fell back down.

 again

and again...

and again...

for hours.

towards the end, I started to think, "I’m not good enough, he doesn’t want the precious things of someone so un-good" so the last few efforts consisted of my crying, hard as I climbed back up, and down...and up and down...looking for branches through tears as they snagged my very unfashionable hand-me-down ugly dress and scraped the already scraped and scarred un girlish like legs of a child who often climbed trees and “did stunts”. I didnt look like an angel at all, or mary, or any of the people in the paintings you saw in church..I was a pretty ridiculous site to someone like God surely...I didnt blame him.

Anyway, the dinner bell rang and I took my dirty box of precious things, my dirty knees and torn dress and walked to the house wondering what I could do to make my self worthy of such a gesture in god’s eyes.

That was Christianity to me. It was self humbling, it was meek, it was not proud…but here we have Pat Robertson to tell us that, in fact…Jesus gives people strokes as punishment, which could lead one to believe that anyone who has ever suffered a stroke was in fact being punished by god.

So what have we learned today folks? We have learned that if you or a loved one has had a stroke, they deserved it. According to Mr. Robertson. Ah yes Mr. Robertson, thank you for that gleaming example of the spirit of Jesus. Perhaps we have run out of cheeks.

dickhead.

^

^

(I'm not a christian anymore ;))

Once upon a time

there lived a carrot. He was an average carrot, but he had big carrot dreams. "Why" he told his carrot friends, "why when I grow up I’m going to be a carrot cake!" His carrot friends would tell him what a great carrot he was and how he could go on to do great things as far as carrots go.
One summer sunny day he was discussing his carrot cake dreams when the old farmer happened upon the conversation. The old farmer was an angry, bitter man; you see, he had itchy anal warts and he was always irritable. Now on hearing the carrot's bright dreams and optimism he became enraged at the carrots insolence. He stood over the carrot, casting his shadow over him, and stared down with red eyes of hate. His voice then boomed, "you arrogant little nothing, how dare you presume to have any power over your fate! I care for you, planted you, nurtured you! Do you have no consideration what I might want to do with you? For my needs? Your creator?!
I will choose what you become you worthless little nothing!" Just then he reached down and pulled up the little carrot by his soft parsley like leaves and then broke him in two. "What do you think of your dreams now?!" the farmer hissed. The carrot crying little carrot tears, bleeding little carrot blood just looked, frozen in disbelief. The farmer then threw the carrot down to the ground and stomped....and stomped, and stomped him in to the ground. Then the farmer spat on him and walked away. The little carrot lay in the sun, in his tears, in his blood. He could hear the whimpers of his carrot friends but could not move to see them or speak loud enough to console them. He felt his life, and dreamed his dream just one last time. "I could still be a cake," he said. I would be the finest cake ever..." he dreamt a little more of cake shops and women in fancy dresses staring at him through the window, him standing tall and beaming pride..." laying wasted and dieing on the ground he dreamt...and dreamt....and the sun fell, and the stars shined and he dreamt just a little more.

Love your carrots. They are beautiful.

Though I have to deal with the sarcastic misfortunes of human failure that are my inlaws I feel good this morning. My children are all lit up and warm, my daughter proclaiming this "the best christmas ever!" and the smell of holiday food filling the house.

Wish some of my favorite intarnerds could join me and distract me from having to suffer much of the in laws, but I guess Ill have to escape up here when I can. Of all the reasons marriage is just a stupid idea, inlaws are in the top 3.

I posted some pictures of the house in that photo album because it took holiday company to make me finish some of my projects. I love y agnostic bathroom, and my foyer. I feel nice in them.

Anyway, be well warm and filled with laughter, lurve and shit.

Pain shot through his body before the mercy of numbness greeted him and his mind went white. His last sound was the black birds screaming in laughter. His last sight, through the lens of unforgiving ice was of the black birds taking to the sky…as he fell into darkness…the red trail from his shoulders floating upwards to the ice could be followed back all the way back to where he first spoke to the birds, a place where he was once master and even king, the place where he would soon be dethroned by the cold.

If I’m not real careful this time of year can be very depressing for me as every thing starts to go to sleep but with one last burst of vibrant color till the grays or dormancy sets in.

I love life, I love activity, I love variety, vibrancy…winter means little of that in nature and fall is the prelude.

But it is unfortunate that as a spiritual person looking for the allegory and literal in everything I take in.

I can relate pretty personally with this time of year, how in life we are often at our best or vibrant when things are going down hill and how the cold will change you, your colors, the death of parts of you making way for new life. Hopefully the winters of our lives will be short. Please excuse the metaphorics. Some people make the mistake of thinking experiences always makes you wiser, in fact, some people experience and their fleeting ignorance just leaves a void to be filled with yet more ignorance be it for necessity, laziness or comfort. May we learn our lessons well and with grace or be able to laugh at ourselves when we blunder.

Anyway, new photo album.. I love Halloween; with Mardi Gras they are my two favorite holidays. The album is full of idiotic dress up pictures I took with my cam over a five-year (or so) span. It was fun and killed some boredom.

Anyway, I hope it makes you smile or dress up and act silly. Make sure you link me.

He sat on the end of his bed

and fastened up his boots. He wasn’t looking forward to the walk due to the two or so inches of slush on the ground. He thought about his newborn son and found himself smiling.
He thought, "I’m a lucky man." He walked to the door and with the cold door knob in his hand braced himself for the rush of cold air. Through the door he went quickly as to not allow the coldness into the aptartment  where his new son was fast asleep.

Crunch, crunch... the snow compacted and slid under his feet as he remembered the birth of his boy. Most of that day seemed a frantic blur but the raw emotions felt for the first time in his life were hard to forget as they held him, bent him colored him and changed him into a man. He looked up at the new moon and felt it was smiling down on him. Just a few more blocks and he was there. The cold bit his face. He looked forward to being back in his house with his son and wife. She was never so beautiful and precious as is now. He looked at the aptartment buildings to either side of him and wondered who lived there. He wondered what their lives were like, what they thought about, what they cared about...

Crunch crunch crunch.

The cold handle in his hand he swung the door to the store open. The bright florescent lights were harsh on his eyes, he shook off his boots and went in.
He grabbed the bread, some milk and a lotto ticket cause he had big plans.

Picket fences, puppy dogs and soaring kites.

He went to the cashier and put his items on the counter. The odd looking gaunt cashier gave him an insincere hello. He seemed to have a gloomy gray color about him and his hair was thin and greasy.  His crooked name tag said "Larry".

Almost home now...

crunch...crunch...not far now.