.

I had this brief dream about a year ago~

I saw a large, muscular man, squatting down on the ground, giving his full attention to a small child. The big strong man was listening intently to this seemingly insignificant child's voice.

When I woke up, I understood the meaning almost instantly:

That we are entering into a strange time, where the wise and strong in the eyes of the world will turn to the small and weak in the eyes of the world. That God will now use the wisdom that He's hidden away in the seemingly useless and weak. That the wisdom of the world will no longer be of any use, and only His wisdom will see us through.

.

vision about Israel~


I saw it in '06. Ok here goes.

First I saw a beautiful woman, a Jewess, she was radiant and perfect, but she was dressed in a bright red low-cut evening gown, it was pretty but it was revealing way too much, she was pretty much exposed up top. (The Jewess was represented by the actress who played The Nanny.)

Then I saw a row of people, they were dressed really fancy, it looked like they were sitting in the front row at the Academy Awards or some other fancy production. There were 3 people: An American actress, all cute and pretty and blonde, (appeared to be Meg Ryan or Melanie Griffith?) then a man who looked like William Baldwin, then a European actress who looked like Nicole Kidman. (I wasn't going to say who these people looked like but for some reason I'm supposed to. I don't know what they represent.) The man who sat between them was "with" them both, sort of in-between...a "diplomat?" I don't know. But I did notice the expressions on the faces of these people as they viewed the Jewess~ envy. At her stunning, unique beauty. I should also mention that she stood apart from the row of people, she was standing alone. However the spotlight was on her.

I watched this scene and felt compassion for the Jewess (Israel!) (I at least know that much.) because she was exposed, and I prayed for her to be covered, and there appeared on her neck a beautiful simple necklace, it had one large pearl on it, and although it was just a necklace it seemed to do the job, it made all the difference, she was no longer exposed.

And I heard the Lord Jesus say, I am the Pearl of Great Price. And I knew that that was His desire for Israel, to cover her.

.

Well, here I am with another piece of rum cake, with obelisks on my mind. A typical night. The reason I've had so much rum cake lately (a steady supply since Christmas) is because my grandmother is hooked on Neiman Marcus, she makes her regular trek downtown and purchases meaningless things and gives them to the family to justify her shopping addiction, rum cake being the staple item. Anyway, I'm on the third one. They last a long time. She hasn't given me three of them, she gave everyone in the family one. But nobody likes them but me, so I end up with them all.

And the reason I have another obelisk on my mind is that I'm recalling a vision I had in '06, it was regarding a woman that I was dealing with, she was a Christian but getting sucked into the Unity Movement. She was passing out these books on it & so I sort of had to set her straight and bring her back to her senses, which didn't go over so well. I ended up tossing the copy she gave me into the fireplace.

As it turns out, her father had been a pastor, and also a mason. Well in the midst of my dealings with her, I saw this in a vision~ an obelisk, it was upright, then it turned on it's side and rotated and pierced her head, went right through it, penetrated her mind.
I understood the meaning and it helped me to pray for her. She's been hornswaggled. Deceived. Generational curses have polluted the mind.

She's not the first one I've encountered with spiritual roots in Freemasonry. They seem to find me, or I them. And there's always a confrontation of some kind. But truth prevails. It's a sore subject with me, close to my heart, and I have a real burden for people who are tangled up in it. That's all I wanted to say about that. A mind was pierced, compromised. If that was the case with her, that could be the case with anyone who's got anything to do with it. Just a friendly reminder. Just one more li'l voice.

Oh and I guess I should also add that the Blood of Jesus Christ is the only thing that brings freedom, deliverance, and healing.

Those pesky obelisks just keep showing up. What next? Will my next rum cake be shaped like one? You know, about occult symbols~ I laugh at all the superstition about most of them, especially the animal ones. They were God's frogs before they represented demons, they were God's beautiful owls before they meant harm, etc etc...
But it's the shady ones I don't like, such as......OBELISKS. If you start looking around you'll see them everywhere, especially around public buildings, schools, libraries.

some visions from '05 & '06


Saw business men being devoured in water by crocodiles, saw their arms being eaten, saw crisp clean white shirts. Understood that this represents attack(s) on American economy.

Saw teenagers walking together, in unison, through the streets, during what should have been school hours, singing and praising God, on a mission. Understood that God is raising up a mighty generation in the youth; do not underestimate. They were going places and witnessing and ministering, all on their own.

Saw a dog, as in, somebody's pet, being cooked outdoors, to be eaten. Famine.

Saw three Sanhedrin, Pharisees? Leaving the temple, leaving the city, approaching. Look of frustration upon their faces, disgruntled, not going to "put up" with all this Spirit nonsense. Understood that an increase in legalism comes against the church.

Saw group of people on a boat, a fishing boat, going to a new land, fleeing destruction. They were on a fishing boat, they had to use whatever form of transportation was available. These were Christians, I understood that they were not afraid, they accepted loss and they looked with anticipation at what was to come, totally trusting in God. "Zoomed in" on a woman's face, she stood at the front of the boat, there was a look of sheer wonder on her face. They were leaving America, and they were in icy cold waters.

Saw rows and rows of people behind bars, as if imprisoned, their arms reaching out from behind the bars, begging for release, desperate, crying out for deliverance. Heard the Lord say, "There are SO MANY to be set free."

Vision shown to me in '05:

A terrified woman, standing inside her home, facing the front door, which was closed. On her face was sheer terror, as if sudden destruction was coming, and she was panicking. She held a can of black paint in one hand, and a brush in the other. She began to frantically apply huge strokes of black paint on either side and above the door, in an effort to gain some protection from the Lord. The vision "zoomed in" on her face, I felt her fear. She was desperate.

After praying about it, I understood that in the coming times, and even now, there will be many who scramble at the last minute to find favor and protection in the Lord, but their ignorance regarding His Word will be a disservice to them. The woman was attempting some form of Passover ritual, as if it were something that she had once heard about, but really didn't understand. As I watched her paint around the door, I thought to myself, where to begin? Passover was a one-time event, to begin with. Secondly, she was using paint instead of blood. Add to that the fact that she was painting the inside instead of the outside. I thought, she's got it wrong, all-around. Protection cannot be obtained through any ritual, it's by putting one's faith and trust in the Living God, and through the Blood of the Lamb, Jesus Christ. I heard the Lord say, "Know My Word."

I felt deep compassion for the woman and I wanted to reach out to her and tell her this, but it was too late. She had no knowledge of His Word. Destruction was on it's way. I should also add this detail, that she appeared to be involved in voodoo, or just a combination of beliefs, a hodgepodge mixture. I learned about a year later that in some rituals, black paint is actually used, sometimes even on doorposts! Freaked me out, I had no idea.

I posted this dream on another blog a few weeks ago, but here it is again (I'm compulsive like that)
About 6 weeks ago I had a very short but disturbing dream~ I was walking slowly among rubble and remains of a great city, something had happened, some type of destruction. It was quiet, there was nothing happening at all, just me, looking at all this stuff on the ground all around me, and as I walked I came upon a huge white stone object, lying on the ground. As I walked on and saw all of it, I realized that it was an obelisk, not quite as large as the Washington monument but it was still pretty big.
American finances.... the economy....
(and this just came to me, tonight~ "Nation's Capitol"-----"nation's capital".... ah, nevermind)

Well, now I should tell you about the hospital-within-a-library dream, seeing as how I'm on the subject.

I had this one about 6 months or so ago. I was in a large public library, it was really official looking, almost as if it were inside a capitol building or something. But I wasn't there to check out books. I was there for a doctor's appointment.

Not only that, but I was made to go. As I approached the desk, I noticed a cop on either side of it, watching everything. I had a feeling of dread, and of being controlled. I noticed that the side rooms were being used as examination rooms. It was also a hospital. It was like "The" medical place for everything. I sensed that we were all being regulated and it was required that we all go there.

As I stood at the desk to sign in, I looked up, and saw that the ceiling directly above the desk was a dome, a skylight, and there were decorations going around the inside of it, such as eagles, and ivy, and American flags. It was pretty, but I remember thinking, am I inside a domed government building?? But it was a library, or, had been. Now it was a medical establishment.

I gotta say, it was run by the same darn folks as the ones in the other dreams.

"Newel post"- "new post"...

new direction, or same direction, same path, new scenery, new steps to take. Ah nevermind.


Tonight I've been drinking tea and eating crackers, thinking of some dreams I've had about our country. I've written about this particular one before, but I think now's a good time to do it again.

It was back in 2004 I believe when I had this one. I saw a shopping center that had been taken over, there were armed soliders positioned upon the roof, aimed at the citizens, and there were shortages of everyday items, and things were being rationed, and I think the soldiers were guarding against looting?

Then, I saw more buildings, such as libraries and schools and such, and they all had been taken over and were all the "same place", run by the same folks...

Next, I was in a place where people were being held against their will. I was on a school campus I think, but we were fenced in and there were more soldiers... People were miserable and frightened and being made to work. I approached a person who was doing something at a table, I watched as he ground something into a fine powder, and as he worked I sensed that he was grinding down human bones. As soon as I thought this, he looked up and looked directly into my eyes and said, "It is what you think it to be."

Next I was inside this place, this school that had been taken over, and it was somewhat of a prison, the classrooms used as cells and interrogating rooms. A frightened little girl came up to me, and I knew she was there alone. I held her hand and took care of her. As we walked hand in hand down a hallway, we happened to pass by an open classroom, and the door was partially open, just enough to where I could see that there was a man being tortured inside. He was on the wall. It was very disturbing to say the least, even though it was a dream. I was worried that the little girl saw it too, and so I knelt down and put my hand on her little head and said, "Heavenly Father, may Your Holy Spirit protect this little child and may she not see these things here..." And then the little girl looked up at me and said, "I saw everything."

I was taken on some kind of a tour, saw more things, until the very end, when I was told to lie down in a bathtub, naked, it was my turn to die, and they placed a gas mask over my face. The gas stank and I began to choke, then I woke up.

I almost forgot! One of the details of this dream was a woman, she was being held against her will just like everyone else, but she sat and joked and laughed with one of "them", and I knew that she had made connections ahead of time, and now it was serving her well, she was using her influence for the betterment of the captives, but in an underhanded way, by infiltration. She was a rare exception and I knew that she was taking great risks.

I'm just going to leave it at that. Usually I like to sum up my dreams and visions, but this one needs little explanation, besides, I'm just a dreamer, and all I need to do is share what I've been shown.

I'm sharing this one tonight because of what I saw earlier. I got my country on my mind.

tonight I saw this in a vision~ a fancy stairway,

...and it zoomed-in on the big wooden ball thing on the end post.

Then I approached the stairs, and started to climb them, and reached out and placed my left hand on the wooden ball (I found out it's called a newel post, what the ball is on) ..and as I did, there appeared the outline of the United States on the ball, just the shape of it, simple and black.

And it made me think of two dreams I've had that involve staircases. I prayed about this one and I heard in my spirit "you know". As in, I already know the meaning. I do. And I am on the verge of tears right now as I type.
I'll write more about this one later!

.

Back in '05 when I lived in the Little White House where I got west nile that resulted in my mental blowout that tossed me to the curb, right out of my own life, resulting in my current state of unemployment and general cluelessness but only in the physical realm,


I had all of my old journals safely hidden away in a fireproof document box that I had stolen from my dad a long time ago, all my notes and ramblings and ripped up journals were inside, and I planned on never opening the box ever again, in fact when I moved to the Little White House Where Infected Mosquitoes Dwelt, I locked said box and threw away the key,


...and buried it, in my back yard, among the row of Junipers that I planted, pretty li'l bushy evergreens that I hoped would grow fast, to hide my yard and cover up the hideous view that tormented me: a tractor, some logs, and a spiral staircase, laying flat on it's side. I was going to leave the box buried there in an effort to leave it all behind, that is until one night when my daughter's boyfriend came over and he had had a dream about Jesus, and he was sort of upset about some things and had some questions, so I asked him to help me dig up my box so I could read him my story, it took a while to dig it up, I held the flashlight and he dug, he was laughing and wondering what on earth does this have to do with anything, and I was like, just keep digging. Then he finally got to it and we got it up and I unwrapped it, it stank, even though I had it all wrapped in trash bags,



...and I read him my story that night, and he accepted Christ. It was a really cool evening. And so, this got me to thinking, maybe I shouldn't have it buried? So I re-wrote it and condensed it and tweaked it and expanded it and made it just right (when I say tweaked I don't mean I lied about anything, I just made it flow better.) And that got the ball rolling in a wild and wooly direction, I started sharing it, and then all these things started happening, it was amazing, and long story short it all snowballed out of control until I landed here, in this very spot, with a laptop and no job, typing, telling you, whoever takes the time to read, what happened to me.




I sort of had to lean on a lot of people during the past year, but mainly God. When I was still on the seizure meds, about a month after it all happened (mental blowout), I had a brief vision of being held up by an angel, I was completely limp, and the angel stood right behind me with his/her arms wrapped around me, holding me in an upright position, and I was reminded of God's promise to me: "I will lift you up, I will lift you up.." Which turned out to be something completely different than what I thought He meant by that. As it turns out, all this time I've been writing, this past year, and I thought I was just getting it all out, not realizing what I was doing... but it's all come together, and it looks like I've accidentally started something. SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DIG UP THINGS THAT WERE BURIED????? Oh and I forgot to say, it was funny how I got the box open, I used a screwdriver and a rock. I'm sort of butch like that.

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on...






Just to come clean on my ultimate mission, so I don't feel so shady, I do aim to win souls for His Kingdom, and I'll never stop. I was shown in a vision in '05 a glass container, and beautiful gold round things were dropping in, one by one, and God said that they were markers for the souls that are being won ... yeah people, He's keeping track! Everything we do for him! So keep going already! EVERYTHING MATTERS!!!!!!!!!!!






But then again there's days when I wish something would just come along and wipe me out and take me on home. And that's all I know for now.

...don't put me back under the Law.

Back in the mid-90's, a friend of mine had a mother in law who
was veering away from Christianity and getting all into Jewish
traditions, Hebrew studies & what-not.
Good stuff to learn about, for sure. Biblical history is fascinating.
But she was starting to go overboard. Having Sabbath dinners,
observing Jewish holidays, etc.
She's not Jewish.

I was invited to her home once for "Bible study". Turned out to
be more of a Torah study. I sat there and listened to her. She
said this was a "grass roots movement", that when Christ
returns, the temple procedures/animal sacrifices, etc will be re-
instated. I guess she wanted to get a head start or something.

Christians going back under the Law.

Does it make them feel holy and righteous? Her son, who was a
friend, was also starting to get into it. He said to me one time
when I asked him about it, "Look at it this way, are you going to
worship the Father, or the sacrifice? Jesus was the sacrifice."
I stared at him in disbelief. And these were people that we had
met at church. A small, Bible-believing, Jesus-loving, pure and
simple congregation. And now he was standing there, insulting
Christ.

He also quoted the passage where Jesus says, "Do not think
that I came to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I did not come
to abolish, but to fulfill." The friend then said that this meant,
Jesus came to live out the Law and promote it and that we
should too.

Not so! I shot back at him and said that he was twisting
Scripture. The first part is true, because the Law was still in
effect while Jesus lived, because He had not yet been sacrificed!
Then I said to him, "Fulfill means to complete. Jesus Christ
COMPLETED the Law."
And then I said, if God were to speak to you right now on this
topic, He might say something like this:
"Look at this BEAUTIFUL thing I have done. Look at what I have
COMPLETED. From start to finish."

It's true. The Law is still God's Law. It is just as true
today as it was then. BUT~ Jesus has taken the place for us. His
death cancels our sin and what we owe. God knew from the very
beginning that it was impossible for a human being to follow it
perfectly.

Jesus came to LIVE OUT and COMPLETE the Law. It is finished.
The rules have not changed. Our punishment has. We are
absolved through the shedding of His blood. He is the Lamb
without spot or blemish.



...don't denomination me.

Recently a friend & I went to this church to see a speaker. We both
wondered aloud what kind of church it was. I grabbed a bulletin,
and saw what kind of church we were in. My friend asked if that was
bad, I said, no, they're just off.

I got into it, explaining the
whole thing, and she kept going "sshhhh!"
I have a tendency to get a little bit worked up sometimes.

We ended up getting up & leaving, before the thing even began.
And we laughed the whole way back. It spawned the best
conversation ever, we talked about all things false and untrue
(my fave topic) and she had some really good points. We were
talking about salvation, how you can really tell what a church is
made of by finding out what they believe about it. Is it faith, or
works? She said, how greedy is it when people strive to earn
their salvation. I didn't get what she meant. She said, if it were
based on works, then people would have their own selves in
mind when they serve God, their own salvation, and their eye
would be on the reward in heaven. I never looked at it like that
before. She's right.
We were both brought up Catholic. Need I say more?
This is
what I was reading today:

Matthew 23:4~12
And they tie up heavy loads, and lay them on men's shoulders;
but they themselves are unwilling to move them with so much
as a finger. But they do all their deeds to be noticed by men; for
they broaden their phylacteries, and lengthen the tassels of their
garments. And they love the place of honor at banquets, and the
chief seats in the synagogues, and respectful greetings in the
market places, and being called by men Rabbi. But do not be
called Rabbi; for One is your Teacher, and you are all brothers.
And do not call anyone on earth your father; for One is your
Father, He who is in heaven. And do not be called leaders; for
One is your Leader, that is, Christ. But the greatest among you
shall be your servant. And whoever exalts himself shall be
humbled; and whoever humbles himself shall be exalted.
And this is Jesus Himself talking! How cool is that! He's all, get
off your high horse. Those called to leadership positions need to
do so in humility and reverence to God, and with no shady
motives.

I will not go to a church where the leaders exalt themselves as
kings. I will not go to a church where I am told to confess my sin
to another human being. I will not honor or pray to the mother
of our Lord. It appears that Mary was very humble. Very
little is mentioned about her. Even the angels in heaven refuse
to be honored, why then do we attempt to pray to or give honor
to a human?

So many denominations. Clubs for Christians, that's what they
are.

Give me His Word, and His Word alone. Give me a church that
says, ok, this is who we are. We love God, we believe and read
His Word. Come on in, let's worship Him together. Brother Zeke
will be doing the reading today, and Sister Eunice has a story to
tell. Claude! Get up here with your banjo, let's jam!
...or something like that.
Ephesians 2:8~9
For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of
yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, that no
one should boast.
We serve Him because we love Him, and it's the right thing to
do. But salvation is an entire different thing. Thank God! This is
why ANYONE can come to Him, no matter where you're at in life.
He loves us all SO MUCH! In this cold dark messed up world, how
can you not want to receive His love? It's the only thing that will
never let you down, and it's big, and it's warm, and comforting,
and it's REAL. Don't tell me His grace isn't sufficient. I lived it.
I owe Him my life.

.

Today I’m not in the mood to make light of the fact that my entire life is nothing but a series of events that rival being hit by a wayward motorboat driven by a flaming drunk lunatic each time I attempt to tread water in the ever-lovin’ Sea of Life.

Today I’m going to tell you what it’s like to exist on this planet as me.

Well, ok, just one aspect of being me. The thing. The thing God has given me. The thing that clues me in on certain things ahead of time. It’s a gift and I do see it as such and I do understand it. But when I mentally compare myself to other humans I get just a tad bit insecure, defensive, and shaky in the proverbial knees.

In order to successfully operate as me, you must be broken. I can only get by with a smile now, because I have been broken by life and by God and probably by you as well.

Before my mental blowout I was really suffering. The gift was intensifying but I had no place to put it in my head, I was stressed and burdened and trying to support my daughter and myself, alone, all the while being shown the depths of heaven and hell in my dreams and visions, some things pertaining to me, some things pertaining to others, some things pertaining to life as we know it and certain events that are looming, unseen events that is.

I don’t make predictions. No. What God shows me every now & then are glimpses into the spiritual state of things. Warnings. Teachings. And even things that comfort and uplift. I’m not one of those folks that goes around saying there will be an earthquake next month. In fact I could care less if there were.

But back to being broken. If people notice that I’m a little bit “off”, or loopy, disjointed, kooky… it’s all part of my Sanity Insurance. God had to allow me to be broken in order to be able to handle what He’s doing with my life. After the brain infection and spending the last year unemployed, recovering, and writing, some major changes have taken place, not only in my body but mentally and emotionally as well.

How can I describe it to you? Basically I am UNABLE to mentally wrap my mind around certain big things He’s shown me. I can’t ponder them too much anymore, all I am able to do is understand and accept, share what I’m supposed to, keep to myself a few things, and keep going, down this odd but beautiful and amazing path, until the day I get to go home.

I guess today I have one thing in particular on my mind, and that’s something heavy He’s shown me, and it has to do with me personally. He was very nice to clue me in. If I told you what it was you would not believe me. Moreover, if you were shown this and it had to do with you, you might not still be sane and smiling. But He’s given me a peace, a deep, deep peace. In fact, come to think of it, back in the mid-90’s a minister said to me that “God will give me a supernatural peace that surpasses all understanding.”

When I first heard that, I thought it was just referring to my ability to get by in life. But no. Now it’s dawning on me what that alluded to. I can’t even tell my family. I’ve only told one soul, and not even directly. I’m just hoping he gets it. I’m not even sure if I really want him to believe me or not. I think I’m secretly wishing he discredits me a little and thinks I’ve gone off the deep end with that one. Actually, if he ever brings it up, my response will be, “maybe it was just a bad dream.”

That won’t be lying.

Love! Amy

.

Well of course I'd have a stomachache now. I saw it coming but I did it anyway. I didn't "fold box into platform" when I stuck my dinner in the microwave. The strangest thing ever. I had already ripped open the box and removed the contents, only to discover that you're not supposed to rip THAT box. No, this box is supposed to be folded into a "platform" upon which you place your thing (I still don't know what it was that I just ate) (I didn't buy it). You're supposed to follow this diagram and fold all the edges backwards and make a little table. But I had already torn the box, so I put the dinner back inside and stuck it in for the required 3 minutes. It was cold in some places but I ate it anyway. Now my stomach hurts. It was a WAIT I'll go read the box. Alright. It was a Flatbread Melts Chicken Ranch Club.

Nobody ever told me I'd have to know Oragami in order to eat. Same for those dinners that aim to control your thoughts by giving too many instructions, like the ones that say, "peel back plastic cover over beans, cut slit over entree, remove cover from apples,", but they don't stop there, it goes on to say, "after 2.5 minutes, stop, rotate, remove cover altogether, stir", then return to oven. I don't play that way. No matter what the directions say, like 3 minutes on medium and 4 minutes on high, it doesn't matter. I just look at whatever numbers are there, add them, and that's that. That's how long my dinner stays in, on whatever setting the oven is already on. I do not have an overflowing abundant supply of extra brain cells to dedicate to solving math problems in the kitchen. When I'm hungry, that's it, I need to eat, no time for dillydallying. I will not be ordered around by the Lean Cusine or Healthy Choice people.

What cracks me up is when I hear the phrase "your relationship with food." I didn't know it went that deep. What am I missing? All I know is, it's a burden. To feed something that's dying. Why do we spend so much time trying to keep our bodies going, when it's our souls that are eternal, but the food the soul needs is so elusive and hard to come by? And even when you find it, you still starve yourself? For example, I haven't prayed in about 48 hours. I'm already slipping. Getting hungry. And the Lean Cusine thing only tricks me into thinking I am fed for the day. SEE? Why don't you open your eyes and wake up for crying out loud. You're probably starving at this very minute. You think you want pizza, but what you really need is to pray. This is ridiculous.







I'm very average today. Actually I'm below average. I actually slipped and fell today, which hasn't happened since I was pregnant 17 years ago. It happened due to my slippery bathtub. I've been conditioning my hair alot lately with olive oil and coconut oil to compensate for it's length. I chopped it all off recently and it's ugly, so by making it smooth and supple I feel better.

So I fell into the bathtub when I was getting in, it was extra slippery today, and for a minute I was just stunned, it took me a second to realize what just happened. Then I started laughing. I wonder what the people below me think. They're a normal little family and both parents work, but sometimes one of them is home (cause I can hear them), and I wonder if they wonder why someone is always home up here. I bet they think there's something wrong with me.

About those people, I always know when they're coming home, cause I hear the kid screaming, and the mom has to shout, GET IN HERE!! ...as in, the kid doesn't want to come home? He's only 2 years old! How can a 2 year old not want to come home?

So about me falling today, I was thinking, IS THIS A SIGN????

So I started examining my life on many different layers and levels. I think I'm good for now. Oh! Wait! I just remembered. A tiny black spider was on the computer last night.

I have so much to say. Even though I'm done telling my experiences. See now I'm noticing new things about it all, and new twists and turns. My life is a puzzle, a matrix, a labrynth. I'm lost in a dream.

Speaking of being lost, I think that's why I love to blog so much. It gives me a connection, even if it's to strangers, folks I'll never meet (nor do I want to)... I think I'm much better at this than I am real-life connections. I don't know why. And I also have no idea why people read the stupid things I say more than the important things.












Suspicious.


That's how I've always been. Somewhere along the way, I stopped believing everything I was told. And then I got to where everything was untrue until proven true. Now I go out of my way to sniff out a lie. Looking back, I see a few instances where my trust was compromised, I think that's what got the ball rolling.

When I was little, my friend Michelle & I would have "dance contests" in my room. We'd put on a disco album and then proceed to break it down right there, on the golden shag carpet of my room, and we'd critique the other and offer appropriate praise and correction. It was fun, but a very serious thing. 1977 was the year of High Disco, and if one could not master the Hustle, one was a loser indeed. I was 8 years old but I already had the dancing skills of a pro.

My mom would practically BEG to sit in on one of our sessions, but she was not allowed into my room. I shut the door and taped a "do not enter" sign on it. I even went out of my way to inform her ahead of time, "Mommy, Michelle & I are going to have a dance contest, please do not come in." She politely nodded her head but I always knew she was dying to watch. I kept my eye on her.

Sure enough, my suspicions came true. One day, in the middle of a contest, I was tearing it up, when I saw it. I saw, from the corner of my eye, a HAND on my closet door. No body, just a HAND. I reached over and flung open my closet and THERE SHE WAS, my MOTHER. Watching! I was FURIOUS. She had betrayed me. She started apologizing profusely, saying it was the only way she could see one of our contests. I glanced over at Michelle, who was laughing. She had been in on it! The whole thing was pre-arranged! A set-up! A plot! I was framed. I was betrayed. I was humiliated.



During that same time, I was at Michelle's house, a house that had 4 really cute boys there. 4 brothers, that's what she had. All older than us, all with bell-bottom jeans and feathered long hair. It was all too much. Those boys were it, and it was a real treat to be in their presence. The youngest brother David was just a year older, and I had a terrible crush on him. One day, as I walked up on to the front porch to visit Michelle, David was sitting there with his friend and they were laughing. There was a small lamp beside them, and it was plugged in. I heard the friend whisper something, then David said to me, "Hey Amy, come here! Come touch this lamp, right here..." More laughing from them. I thought maybe it was warm? All I knew was, it was David talking. He could have asked me to jump into traffic and I might have. So I go over to the lamp and touch the spot that they pointed to, and then proceeded to receive the shock of my lifetime, it zapped my finger and my hand and ran up my arm. I jumped back and screamed. The boys laughed. I acted like it was nothing, but when I got home I cried. How could David have done that to me?



And then there was my other neighbor, Jonathan. They moved from Oak Cliff and had a home built in Red Oak, and we went over there to see how it was coming along. Jonathan grabbed a piece of pink fuzzy stuff and said, "Hey Amy, this is the softest stuff in the world, let me see your arm...." So I held out my arm, and he rubbed this pink fuzzy stuff into my arm. It was fiberglass. Yes, my trust for boys was seriously downgraded several points that day. I was starting to see a pattern.



By the time I was 11 years old, I had the whole world all figured out. By this time, I knew to be on the lookout for all things tricky and shady. I was still in Catholic school, and it was now time for Confirmation. That's when all the 5th graders basically sign their soul over. We had been preparing for it for months, learning all about the procedure. You picked a patron saint for the thing. This alone creeped me out. I was supposed to select a dead person to accompany me in a church ceremony, to float by my side as I promised the Catholic church that I would be a member forever and ever? Everyone in my family was confirmed, all my aunts and uncles and grandparents and my big sister. This church and school was like a family thing, it was St. Elizabeth's in Oak Cliff. All my dad's family had gone there too, back in the day, in fact my grandfather was one of the main engineers in designing the school. It was a big deal. Yay Catholic! So anyway, the time had come to get confirmed. But I had questions and nobody seemed to be able to give me a straight answer: Why is this necessary? What exactly am I promising? What does this mean?

Come to find out, when you are confirmed, you are saying, "I am committing myself to the Catholic church, for life."

So one day, just weeks before the ceremony, I decided that I would NOT in fact promise ANYBODY my perpetual attendance, ANYWHERE. I saw right through it. This was a building, a man-made institution. This was not a pure representation of MY God. This I knew. I still didn't know God at all, but I knew He was not what these folks portrayed Him to be. And to think I'd been there all my life, AND attended the school there, going to Mass every Friday AND Sunday. And they still were not able to lure me into the machine. Ha!

So I announced to my teacher that I was not going to get confirmed. She advised that I go home and tell my parents. So I go home and announce to my parents that I have decided not to get confirmed. My parents looked at each other. I think they didn't care so much, it was more like, what will the grandparents think? Or say?

I don't know how it was all worked out, nor do I care. All I know is, I didn't do it. I was the only 5th grader that year not to be confirmed. It was a non-issue to me. I just made up my mind, and that was that.



You just have to be on the lookout for tricks and schemes in this world. Don't dance without first checking the closet, don't touch a lamp that's situated between two laughing boys, not everything that looks soft IS soft and by all means don't find out whether or not it's really soft by rubbing it into your skin, and last but not least ALWAYS keep an eye out for false doctrine and make no promises to anyone.



I am against the world with all my heart and that will never change.



love, A.

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Well it looks like I'll be getting back into the health food stores. Work, I mean. Selling herbs. The very thing I decided not to do anymore, after what happened to my head. After all that I've adopted a new attitude: it's not my problem. Your health issues, that is. Because would it even be right to go back to selling supplements and telling folks what to put in their bodies when I was hit upside the hea WAIT!! I just realized! Not only is it right, but it adds to my whole selling charm! It doesn't compromise a thing! How come I never looked at it this way before? I recovered from encephalitis, the most nasty thing to happen to your head. Just the sound of it is nasty. I bounced back and the only thing different (like I said in previous blog) is my slightly spacey memory. I was thinking about it today and realized, all that means is that I just need to try a little harder. I just haven't been trying I think.
So I can be like, yes, see here Mr. Customer, take this herb and this one and that one too! Take them all! Listen to what I say because I am super-healthy as evidenced by my complete recovery from a bad brain infection.

Well now I'm back to the whole visitor map thing, which I get hooked on, like watching the aquarium at the State Fair that has the big turtle in it, the moss-covered one who has a tricky glowing tongue that lures in the little fish. But about the job thing. I'm dangerous. I'm doing it my way now. All this time I've been playing by these new rules, where you go in and ask for an application, only to be told to go home and apply online. I've been doing this for about 3 months now? 4? 5? I've lost track. I don't know if it's the schedule I'm applying for, or the fact that I haven't been employed in over a year that's holding me back. Who knows. Well I do know the schedule thing is a catch, the place I almost got hired at only needs daytime help, but I can only work in the evenings, because I'm sharing a car with my mom. If it weren't for that I would have been hired this week. But this virtual application deal doesn't work for me. I need human contact. And so that's what I'm going to do. This is how I always used to get jobs in the past. I don't know why I'm just now doing it. I typed up my own version of a resume. It's short, funny, and cute. And then, I take several copies and deposit them generously, like candied sprinkles on cupcakes, all over town, not calling first, not asking, "are you hiring?" and other trivial things. No. This is what works for me. Just walk on in & smile, shake whatever hand is around, put my li'l paper in hand, turn, and walk away. This is exactly how I got my last job and the one before, too. It just sort of goes with me. I'm tired of trying to get a job the real way.

So. I already have about 5 health food stores in mind. New ones that I didn't know existed. I got online & searched in some nearby cities, some smaller places. Yes. I got my eye on a few mom & pop stores. I'm going to do my thing tomorrow. And I'm going to be ballsy.

I guess since this is a new blog I should say, I lost everything when this happened to me. My apartment, job, daughter had to go live with her dad. My state of mind was just blank. Seizures, limping, slurred speech. Perfectly happy to stare at a blank wall all day. I've downplayed it all this time in blogs, mainly because it was too hard to face the reality of it all. In fact I've only recently been processing alot of it and just now grasping the fact that I really did lose everything. Oh and my car too! On top of everything else, I lost my car. I gave it to a relative when I couldn't afford the repairs, thinking a new one would magically appear in my life. It hasn't. I gave it to the relative for him to sell, because he's the one who got it for me to begin with, and I wanted to repay him. So it's not like I just lost my mind and gave away my car.

This has been painfully slow, getting back up and running. If you've never experienced a health crisis and had to drop everything there's no way you'd understand. In fact I never really had that much sympathy for unemployed or disabled folks until now. Now I see the hurdles they have to overcome to get back into the swing of things. And the funny thing is- most of the hurdles are mental! Like, psychological! It's the weirdest thing! Just keeping yourself motivated and keeping yourself afloat is hard. You get depressed. You feel worthless. I've pretty much felt as if I've slipped through the cracks of life.









*sigh*


...my grandmother.

If you knew her you would know what I mean by that sigh. That's the only way to describe her. One sigh says it all.

I'll try to be nice as I tell you what she did today.

Today in the paper there was an article on west nile. It talked about a woman who barely made it, she really had a hard time with it. It got her good. Well guess what my grandmother did today. Just guess.

SHE GOT THIS WOMAN'S NUMBER SOMEHOW and told her all about ME, and then the poor woman called my mother at work. Yes. I am not kidding. Seems my well-meaning grandmother blew my situation out of proportion, made it sound like I was still sick, and the woman called my mom and said to tell me, if I ever have any questions or want to talk about it, to call her.

MY GRANDMOTHER GAVE MY MOTHER'S WORK NUMBER TO a total stranger! My mom was like, ...uh, ok? Who are you again? She said the woman was very friendly and to tell you the truth I secretly do want to talk to her. But not cause I have questions. I think it would be good to know someone else who got it. But I would feel bad, because I'm all better and she's not.

The more I read these people's stories the more I realize how fortunate I am to have recovered so well. It did hit my brain pretty hard, I did have seizures and a mysterious limp in my right leg for a few weeks, memory problems and fatigue from hell. (the fatigue still comes and goes, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY, for no reason.) Also the memory thing can be a problem but not all the time and I am not disabled in any way. Just more spacey than I was before, which I think is an advantage, now I'm even more frustrating to those I know and love.

So I'm thinking, should I call this woman? What would I say? Or, do I call my grandmother and let her have it for totally overstepping her bounds and giving out phone numbers to strangers?

Wait! Scratch that. I promised myself I would stop asking questions out loud, in blogs. Just read what I say. I don't want your opinion.

What?

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I'm happy, yet confused. Happy that I finally figured out how to post videos on here, confused because my original intentions for this post have gone from Jesus to the Backstreet Boys to this awesome guitarist (see video).

I wanted to tell you about a vision I had about a year ago, I was still pretty messed up from my brain blowout, I was laying on the couch one day praying, and I saw Jesus in a beautiful vision, He was laughing! With me! Not at me.

And it was so hillarious that I started laughing too. You could see the joy in His eyes, and He was laughing as in, trying to keep it all in, it wasn't some nerdy wholesome laugh, no, it was more like when you're laughing in school or church or even a funeral. The kind that you can't stop. And I felt His joy and peace, and He comforted me, and I heard in my spirit that it doesn't matter who we are, or what we've done...... as long as we love Him! And that's what was so funny I think! It was the lyrics to that Backstreet Boys song, and I think He knew I would think that was funny, which I did. But the refrain of that song is exactly what He said!

"I don't care who you are
Or where you're from
What you did
As long as you love Me"

So I was looking just now for that video, but found instead a bunch of funny spoofs on it, I've been sitting here with some tea cracking up at these guys imitating the poor Backstreet Boys, who I do like, and not only them but NSync. I can't help it. Even though it goes against everything I stand for. Which is basically liking anything popular. That's one reason why I avoid the radio, at least current stuff, and lay low and slink around the low channels such as 92.5 and also that newish one called The Range. Stuff like that. Then, about a decade later, the current stuff becomes classic rock, and that's when I'll get into it. Staying about a decade behind keeps me in check with my whole stance on being anti-everything. Wait.. what was I saying?

Oh! When looking through the Backstreet Boys videos I found THIS GUY!!!!! And he is really something! Never mind the fact that the end of his guitar looks like one of those caveman weapons! (The club with the spikes.)

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For some reason I'm thinking about the Sunglass People tonight. I mentally named them that. They were customers that came into the vitamin store I was working at back in '01. All I know is, I was minding my own business, when this big fat motorcycle pulls up and this couple, all leatherbound and wearing dark sunglasses walked into the store. It was hillarious. Because for one thing, they looked like they were in their late 40's, which is fine, but the problem was mainly with the woman. She was really tall, really fake blonde, really busty and really tan. Every bit of her was somehow squeezed and squished up into this black leather getup she had on, including really high, spike-heeled black boots. And it wasn't even a weekend.

The store I worked at was right by Addison, a small city filled to the brim with middle-aged Harley riders. It's a real phenomenon. Anyway the man didn't phase me at all, but the woman.... this is why she was hillarious. This is what she did. I was running the store alone, so it was all me, of course. I always had to handle the freaks alone. They entered into the store, the man went about his business and started looking around, but the woman... she (sunglasses still on, I couldn't see her eyes) strolls on over to me, and she didn't stop, she walked right up until I thought her chest was going to bump into my head. (I'm 5"3.)

So imagine, this tall woman who thinks she's the Terminator or something, not saying a word, not even a smile, just slowly approached me as if she was going to grab me by the throat. But no. You see, my Freak Tolerance Level was already at record levels due to working at that place, so I didn't put up with anything. I just stood there as she walked towards me. I know enough about body language to know, the normal thing for me to do at that point was to take a few steps back. I think that's what she was going for. But little did she know, when you're on my turf, I win, no matter how short I am.

So I stood there, until she was right up in my face, looking down on me, just inches from me, hovering, not unlike a cobra staring down a chicken with a broken wing. I looked at her and she looked at me. I started laughing. She continued to stare at me. Finally (without moving back) I said, What can I help you with?

She just stood there in silence, staring at me. Finally she spoke. She remained in the same place, hardly moving, and said, It looks like you have a good selection here. I thought to myself, where's the hidden camera? Is this a joke? I laughed and started telling her all about our best products, BUT! I didn't look at her face when I did. I looked off to the side, knowing it was bugging her. It was my plot to get her to take off her shades. It worked. After a few minutes, she took a few steps backwards and removed her shades. Turned out it was a real live woman under there! Not only that, but she started asking me questions and we actually ended up having a pleasant conversation. They were in town for some concert. I guess they just needed to make a quick pit-stop to intimidate a hapless local.

My point is, after working retail since the age of 18, I have zero tolerance for people who wear shades in the store. Dark ones, that is. The kind that completely hide the eyes. And they come in and expect me to look them in the eye. I refuse. The bottom line: If I can't see you, you won't see me. I look off to the side, invent some imaginary focal point, until it drives them nuts and they take them off.

I'm small, but I deserve the same amount of equality and respect as anyone else. At least the people who wear dark glasses in the store aren't as bad as the Woman Who Carried Her Poop Around In A Pickle Jar. But that's another blog.

And she went around showing it to people! I'm not kidding.

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I can't tell you how much I love youtube. It always has exactly what I need, and tonight I wanted something to do with an old farmer in a church, to go along with a vision I had in '05, and lo and behold, the most perfect video! Made me tear up a little. I've been doing that a whole lot lately.

But about the vision~I saw a small country church, then the inside, a small congregation, the pastor was preaching, and every time he mentioned God, or said "the Lord", or said "Jesus", this old man who was in the congregation would immediately rise to his feet! Just out of the blue! He was old and had overalls on, like an old farmer or something, just humble and pure, and just at the mention of the Lord, he sprung up and lifted his hands in the air and praised Him! Then he sat back down again. It was a happy thing to see. When I prayed about it, God said, "STAND UP FOR YOUR RESURRECTION!"

Of course I was initially baffled by this. Well to be honest I still am.But about the old farmer who couldn't contain himself! How awesome is that! To have such enthusiasm at the mere mention of His Name that you can't contain yourself, you just have to stand up! Maybe God's saying that's how our hearts should be?

When I first posted this vision on a blog last year, some guy commented on it and said, "Aw God bless that poor old man! Bless his heart!" And I was like, no, he's not real! It was a vision! See this is why I like the whole blogging outlet for all this stuff, it lets me lay low and I don't have to go around explaining myself to people unless I just want to. I just don't see how this would fly in real time. Like, in person. Talking to people. It would never work. For one thing my sweating problem would kick in and then my blood sugar would drop, and nobody would have any protein and I'd crash and cry and I'd forget what I was saying. I AM SO GLAD I GET TO BLOG!!!! ..and I don't have to talk to ANYBODY unless I want to!




Well it's 5:10 and I'm listening to the same familiar sounds in the kitchen that I hear every day at this time: my mother, making oatmeal. It's the weirdest thing. Right around this time, I hear her plodding into the kitchen, scuff scuff scuffing along in her slippers, then she makes a bowl of oatmeal, then scuff scuff scuff into the living room to eat it, she cuddles up with it on the couch with her legs all curled up, in her pink robe, just nibbling away at it. And from that point on she's a new woman and nothing can stop her, even though she's in her mid-60's. And I'm thinking, how can oatmeal have that effect on you?






(Here's the video that I found that seems to go perfectly with the Farmer in the church vision)

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I realize I'm repeating myself, but there's a reason for that- my last myspace page has disappeared for no reason. So I went and cut and paste some of my other blogs I want to save, here. Just in case. So what? What are you going to do about it? I have an idea: how about YOU start a blog that has roots that tap into the recesses of your very soul, your bones even, and see if you can stop.

It's impossible.

I will most likely continue to repeat myself here and there until the cows come home.

Besides, some things are worth repeating. You know, why do I go to so much trouble to explain myself? I think it's cause I always have so many of my own quetions floating around in my head, that I assume other people do too, and I also assume they want detailed answers, when the truth is, they don't, and the reality is, blogs such as the one I am currently typing are pointless.

I'm in a bad mood. I was thinking this morning, maybe I can make a new rule for myself: When in a Bad Mood, don't blog, just draw, and post the drawing instead of a blog. I might start doing that. So if you ever see a string of nothing but drawings, take that to mean that I'm in a foul mood and it might even be your fault.

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This chick gave it all she had. It's the story in the Bible of the poor widow who only gave a copper coin or two, while all the other guys were putting in all kinds of cash into the temple pot, and they totally looked down on her for it, that is until Jesus busted them and said that her contribution meant more to the Kingdom of God than their donation, because it was all she had.

I thought of this story just now because I was thinking of copper, and I was thinking of copper because of those chains. (a typical chain reaction in my head)

So about giving all you have. Whatever that may be, it's all good. Whatever you have to give, whatever you're good at, whatever you can contribute is valuable, no matter how it compares to what others are doing and giving.

Also! Your passions and interests are there for a reason. I honestly believe that our hearts and heads are filled with the desire already to do the things we should be doing. As in, our interests are God-given. Talents. Abilities. What fuels you. Even if it's something that you think isn't important- it is! Like say you like to kill bugs and you like to spray them and watch them slowly suffer and die. So you become an exterminatior. But then you get all depressed thinking you're not doing anything monumental. YOU TOTALLY ARE!!!! EVERYTHING MATTERS!!! It ALL fits together! Like a big puzzle! KEEP GOING!!!!!

Whatever you do. Whatever you are. Even if you're stuck at home, for whatever reason, sitting on your ass. YOU ARE STILL VALUABLE and whatever it is that you can do, it's appreciated. By the universe. By people all around you. By God.

Even if all you can do is call your wrinkled grandmother and tell her you love her. Or toss a bread crust to a bird. Or say a prayer for your cousin who got hit by a Mack truck. Or scrub the toilet even.

IT ALL COUNTS! You should listen to me! I've been holed up in this apartment with no money or job or car for over a year! And I've been more productive during this time than ever before! So what if I don't have a penny to my name! Well actually I did. Earlier today I had $9.50 to my name but I blew it at the mall on some new earrings. Tiny little studs. They are cute but OK DO YOU HEAR ME?

Follow your heart, do what you love to do, find someone or something to help and know how valuable you are to God and this wretched world we are stuck in.

Ok that's all for now.
Love! A.

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A few years ago I was shown something in the form of a vision regarding someone I knew, it showed me the state of her mind, and although it was really creepy, it helped me know how to pray for her. I'm sharing it here for the usual reason, in hopes of it benefitting someone else.

This is what I saw: I was inside a large barn, it was airy and open, and as I looked up towards the ceiling I saw a loft that ran the length of the back wall, and a staircase leading up to it. Then it zoomed-in on some pictures that were taped to the wall, on the wall above the loft~ they appeared to be vintage Christmas cards, decorated with glitter and angels & other religious scenes. I sensed that it was some kind of attempt at religion, or that these pictures and ideas were somehow being used as substitutes for the real thing, a real walk with God.

Then...the creepy part. Then I saw her, the one who the vision was about. She sat laughing and talking, and was holding a cut-out of a manger scene, with Mary and Joseph standing side by side, then of course the baby Jesus below them. This cut-out thing was attached to a popsicle stick, and she was holding it,talking, laughing.... that is, until the cut-out was flipped around, and the outline of Mary and Joseph now turned into something else: imagine two people standing side-by-side, envision the outline of two heads together. When the cut-out was flipped around, the outline of where the two heads were on the other side now became the two bumps on the top of a black hat, being worn by a grinning, disgusting, ignorant demon. It was now a puppet that she was playing with. The "flip side". And when this vision came to an end (thankfully) I heard in my spirit, "CHILD'S PLAY!"

I prayed about it and understood that she was settling for things that substituted a real and abiding faith in Jesus Christ. "Lofty" images of angels, admiring the beauty and concept of them, believing but not trusting and not applying Biblical truth to your real life. And as for the puppet~ as it turns out (and I had no idea at the time), she used to make puppets and participate in puppet shows. I also knew she was into the Harry Potter books and other forms of entertainment that involve black magic and occultic principles. And the fact that the setting was in an open, airy barn- her mind was "open and airy". There IS such as thing as having too much of an open mind, especially when it comes to Biblical truth. ("If you don't stand for something...")
So, naturally, I began to intercede for her in prayer, that God would show her the areas in which she's being deceived, and if needed, allow her to see/experience some real interaction with the dark side in order to stop taking it so lightly and see what she's toying with.

A few months later, she said she thought her home was haunted, that there were some strange disturbances going on, and so she started praying about it. I never asked her any more about it so I don't know where that went.

I feel strongly that the people who think occultic entertainment is just for fun have never truly had an encounter with it. Ignorance is the only thing that would cause a person to enjoy anything of a dark nature. Once you have seen and tasted true evil, especially when it has it's eye on you, personally~ you won't view it as "child's play" ever again.

It's real, real, real. I've had lots of experiences with demons. I tell those tales few and far between, because it's not such an easy topic to discuss.

Anyway. Please. I beg you. Toss Harry Potter into the trash (or the fireplace- it's fun!) and please, admiring angels is for the birds. Stop admiring their beauty and start focusing on what they are here to do- COVER YOUR ASS from the dark side! If you like angels so much, why not make their job a little easier and clean up your life and stay away from things that compromise your spiritual integrity. Stop and think about why they exist. They protect us. From what? Think about it!

I just don't get people who love the thought of angels but totally disregard demons and the reality of hell. You can't have one without the other. If you see an angel on a wall, on a painting, on top of a tree- stop and think about what they were created to do.

Hell is real. I am very passionate on the subject. Here's a page I put together on it.

http://www.myspace.com/i_reckon_its_hot

(the page is actually part of a story I wrote)

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I had a doll in the 70's, not that I ever played with dolls but being a little girl I guess people gave them to me, thinking I'd like them, when all I did was chew on their feet. I did. I had a Barbie foot chewing habit, I'd carry a Barbie around in my mouth and gnaw on her feet until the white plastic thing was exposed. I thought it was her bone. I was only 4 or 5 though so I think that's ok. Maybe I was teething or something.

But one doll in particular is on my mind tonight: a creepy baby doll with 3 faces. You could only see one face at a time though, due to her plastic hood she wore, complete with a big fat knob sticking out the top of her head. When you turned the knob you'd see her other faces. One was crying, one was sleeping, and one was laughing.

This doll has been front & center in my mind for the past two days. I think I'm supposed to be learning something here. That for a long time I have been a whole lot like that doll, allowing other things, circumstances, people, events, etc to reach down and turn my knob. Mainly people.
I searched for a picture of that doll to put it on here, but I couldn't find it. So I'm just saying, don't be like her. If you have a knob on your head, take it off and slap any hand that tries to turn your moods around and around.

Also! I had a dream tonight. That I was being examined by a doctor, and just out of the blue, he grabbed me and started shaking me! I was surprised and he said, "I needed to see if you could be shaken."

It was a test. To see how I would respond.
And when I woke up, I understood that this is very much what I have been experiencing lately. So again! I'm sharing that dream here to say, sometimes God allows certain things to take place to test our endurance, to see how well we remain standing. I'm thinking the doll with the knob and the doctor who shakes his patients are connected. I'm no math whiz but if I put them together I get the point.

Stand your ground, don't be manipulated by other people, and keep going when life seeks to rattle your cage and force-feed you a knuckle sandwich sideways.

love! A.

1987, I was 17. At a party, drunk, flirting with a guy in the kitchen. We started dancing, I told him I wanted to ballroom dance, that thing where you get rolled up and dipped. We were just about to do that, he even had his hand held out, and I was just about to take it, when...

...in walked three guys. Just stood there, in the kitchen, watching us. The guy I was with started talking with them for a bit, and I noticed that the one in the middle was holding a motorcycle helmet. He also smiled at me. These guys were cute. They looked older, but still all 80's looking- ripped jeans, big puffy headbanger hair, leather jackets. The one holding the helmet just looked at me, and still smiling, said, "you sure would look cute in this, here, put it on." He then put the helmet on my head, then his face changed from a smile to a look of concern as he adjusted the chin strap and made sure it was snug on my head. I laughed. Ok, whatever!

The guys finished talking and left the kitchen, and the guy I was with said, "where were we?" I said, "you were about to roll me up and dip me!" So once more, he held out his hand. I took it, rolled up, then got the dip of a lifetime. He tripped, and sent me crashing, my head was slammed into the sharp corner of the kitchen table. All I remember is a loud "THUNK" and then I was on the floor, staring up at lots of people around me. They helped me up, and I was a little shook up, but not hurt. I looked around for the guys, and they weren't there. I asked the guy I was with who they were, and as it turns out, he didn't know them either! Nobody knew who they were. And they were gone.

So. A helmet was delivered to my head, just seconds before what could have been a very bad thing. My left temple is all that broke my fall, and without that helmet, who knows what could have happened.

I had just received Jesus Christ a few months earlier. Maybe not even that long. I was a brand new believer. I was still bad, hadn't yet been cleaned up by Him, but as it turns out, His grace is sufficient. I was only 17. This event set the pace for me. That's how I thought God was, all the time. I was like, "ok, so He's full of surprises!" I had no room to doubt Him at all. Miracle after miracle came after that. One after the next.

Anyway. So that's my helmet story.

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I got horoscopes on my mind again tonight, so I figured I better say something about it.

I could write about the history of the zodiac but I'm too lazy. I could get into the whole thing about how it's really a misunderstood story of the stars, that many believe it tells the story of mankind and of redemption and salvation. I could sift through the many different versions of the zodiac as represented by various cultures or I could say the obvious, that it's occultic and just flat-out stay away from it. I could mention how there is truth to it, and point out how accurate the signs are. Creepy. However! Just because you discover a hidden source of knowledge does not make it ok. That would be an entire different topic for a blog. So I'll just keep it simple and put it this way...


If you are a Christian, you know what that means as far as the whole new life thing goes, right? That the old flesh is dead, and you now have the distinct honor of walking in your new life given to you by Christ? That you don't have to go around saying anymore how lazy and stupid you are, but that with Christ, all things are made new, and with Him you are energetic and bright? Cause it's all about Him in you and not you in you? You know that?


Well? So why acknowledge horoscopes, which are nothing but little mirrors of the flesh nature? To allow yourself to be labeled by your zodiac sign is discrediting and undermining what Jesus Christ did for you on the cross. Don't fall for it. It's tempting because we all like to be identified and we all like to feel unique. People get their sign tattooed on themselves, wear zodiac jewelry, post their sign on their myspace, etc etc, in order to back up their identity. It helps you feel good, you can say, "this is who I am."

Well guess what. That's NOT who you are. That might be who you were, or who your flesh-tendencies might want you to be, but that's not who you are in Christ. It's a lie. One more trick of the enemy to get you to STAY STUCK.

I choose to keep moving forward, even if at a snail's pace. I choose to not be labeled and told who I am by ANYTHING or ANYONE other than my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He makes all things new. I refuse to claim any other identity other than who He says I am. Even though I still am not sure of myself during times of growth and change, even though it would be easier to have myself all figured out and labeled and properly classified.

I would rather keep growing. I would rather thank Him for what He did for me.

As to the exact reason why horoscopes are evil and not to be touched, it's simple. It's of the occult, hidden knowledge. I won't touch it or acknowledge it. I don't need to understand why. Sort of like the whole "don't eat the apple" thing. It doesn't bother me that they got in trouble and I don't need to get it as to why it was wrong. I don't care. I have blind faith. I trust my Maker. Like a child. Who are we to question Him?

Wisdom and understanding are available to all who seek it. If I had more ambition I would dilligently ask of Him to flood my mind with all kinds of revelation regarding the zodiac and the occult and the Tree of Life and all that. But like I've said before, my brain cells are limited and I'd rather focus on other things, such as, moving away from who I used to be, and even who I currently am, and keep following Christ and keep dying unto the flesh and keep growing in my identity in Him and keep running, running, always running towards the finish line...

Yup.
Oh! Speaking of running. Today I was thinking about what it might be like when I die, as in, the exact moment, actually leaving my body and being brought on up to heaven, and I could think of doing nothing else but running. I can see myself slipping out of my body, and there will be two glittery angels and they're trying to take my hand and lead me softly up the golden stairs, and I'm like, "no thanks", and I just bust out RUNNING up the stairs and bust into heaven and run into where God is. I just want to run to Him. I want to see Him. I want to go home.
I'm running home, even now.

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Normal "Christians" don't get me.People who don't believe don't get me.
I would say I'm stuck in the middle, but that makes me think of a dazed squirrel in the middle of the road about to get smushed because it can't decide which way to run.So the verdict is in: I'm Nowhere.

And everywhere. My mind is all over the place.

I love God, but not religion. I have compassion for other people, but it would take pulling all of my teeth, slowly and painfully, to get me to go to church and hang out with other believers. My life is squeaky-clean, but only because I have been plucked off of my path, corrected, taught, chastised, instructed, protected, guided, encouraged, blessed, and washed in His blood.My life has been messy, and although no evidence remains (unless I tell you, which I will and do, compulsively), it has left a mark on my mind.Some say I suffer from low self-esteem. I say I have been humbled and I think it's better to slink along the bottom than pretend to be something I'm not.Someone once said that I have "intimacy issues". No, the truth is, WHY would I want to let you get close to me? What's in it for me? More pain? Where do I sign? And, what if I'm looking out for your best interest by denying access to the inner realm of my head?

I'm more conflicted than a checker board, more divided than a cookie on a playground. Oh and I'm filled to the brim with bad analogies. My sister used to make fun of them, so over the years it's grown into a thing. Now I find myself making them up just to see how bad they can really be.

More about me, just so you know:I was raised Catholic, but that's just because my parents had us in private school 'cause we lived in Oak Cliff. I became a Christian at the age of 17, my mom witnessed to me. Seems a friend of hers told her all about Christ one day, and she became a believer. Until this point I never knew anything about God.I became pregnant at 20, married at 21, divorced at 27, and have been struggling ever since. I am an artist, although a non-practicing one. Too much in my head that cannot be expressed through paint. I'm telling you, blogging is better than the best of therapists. I started several months ago and have not shut up since.

I have so much to say.




I've been wide awake all night, thinking. I've been wondering why I have so many God stories to tell. I never meant to have all this to talk about. I'm looking at my life and wondering, what on earth?Only God knows why He picks out certain folks for certain things. But I'm getting suspicious. I'm remembering lots of crazy things I've done for Him. I'm thinking, does He use me in crazy ways because I'm open to crazy things?When I got saved at 17, that's when all these ideas started coming into my head. Creative ways to spread the Word. I had to do it, I was so amazed at the whole salvation thing. It was all new to me, and I just had to make sure the rest of the world knew about Jesus. I took it upon myself to spread the Word in my own way. Most of these things I did secretly. Never told a soul. Except my little brother, who was an Accomplice.The first things we'd do were make little tracts, or just go buy a few packs at the Christian bookstore. And we'd wait till late at night. And go for a drive, all over town. I'd drive, and he'd litter. It was so much fun. I was 17, he was 7. This is how it all started, and it came to be known as "littering." Sometimes I'd go to the bookstore and get a few good books, or even Bibles, and go to my bro and say, "Psst--wanna go littering??" His face would light up like a firefly. We had so much fun.And this idea was actually his: we tied a bunch of tracts to helium balloons, and just set them free. This was his favorite way to litter.This activity sort of morphed into other things....like driving through a really poor neighborhood, praying, picking out a house, and running up to the door, giving a one hundred dollar bill to whoever opened the door, saying "Merry Christmas and God Bless You!!" ...and running back to the car and driving off before they could say anything. I can't describe the surge of adrenaline you get when you do things like that. It's almost too much.When I finally wrote my testimony several years ago, I wasn't satisfied just passing it around to my friends. I made sure one got sent to Australia. To an old friend. He was a mess at the time and really needed some good old-fashioned inspiration. And then I also sent a copy to this minister in Africa, who wrote back and said they read it aloud at one of their services, and many people were touched.It's always best to do these types of things anonymously. Never knowing the outcome, never putting my name to anything. Because then I might be tempted to want to know the results. I'd rather not know. I'd rather view everything through eyes of faith, and not base anything on what my real eyes see. Plus, I never have to answer to anyone or explain myself that way.I think we should all be more free with God. Loosen up and do something unexpected. Be creative. Actually instead of doing something crazy, do something free. Be free with it. Think freedom. Be an open vessel that God can use. I refuse to share Christ in a normal manner. There's enough folks on God's green earth who do things right. I just let them do things their way, and I do things my way, and that's that.

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I’ve been looking for some information on when and how the rack thing was used, and what Christian martyrs had to die on it (come to find out, they were mainly just stretched out on it), and I found this article.

Early Christian Martyrs

In his Ecclesiastical History, Eusebius tells of many martyrs in the Christian church prior to 324 C. E.. On this page are descriptions of the martyrdom of twenty-two of them. These Christians were put to death by heathen emperors, governors, and judges. What was their crime? It was admitting to being Christian. They did not have proper trials. They were tortured before being put to death. The one way to avoid the ordeal was to denounce one’s faith A few took this way out; but most, including those listed in this paper, did not. They frustrated their tormentors by cheerfully submitting to the torture. This list briefly describes the horrors that these Christians faced. The details are not pleasant to read. However, every present-day Christian should read about such atrocities as these which were inflicted on believers. Then he should evaluate his own faith. Would he be willing to die for his faith if he were faced with the same decision? Or would he find it easier to turn his back on his faith and save his life temporarily?

The names are in alphabetical order. The number in parentheses at the end of each account indicates where the information can be found in Ecclesiastical History.

The Martyrs

Agapius: He was brought to the arena with a murderer to be cast to wild animals. The emperor gave clemency to the murderer. When the Christian refused to accept liberty by renouncing his faith, he rushed against a bear let loose upon him. After being mauled by the bear, he was taken to prison. Surviving for one day, stones were bound to his feet, and he was thrown into the sea. (357)

Alpheus: He was scourged and scraped with iron hooks and severe bonds. He received different tortures on the rack, having his feet stretched a night and a day to the fourth hole in the stocks. At length, he was beheaded. (350)

Apollonia: They seized this elderly woman, beat her jaws, and broke out all her teeth. They built a fire and threatened to burn her alive unless she would repeat their impious expressions. She appeared to shrink a little, but when allowed to go, she suddenly sprang into the fire and was consumed. (258)

Apollonius: He was renowned for his learning and wisdom. After he gave an eloquent defence of the faith before the judge, he was decapitated according to the decree of the senate. (205)

Apphianus: When this youth tried to prevent Urbanus from sacrificing to a god, he was seized and torn by the soldiers. He received innumerable stripes on his whole body and was cast into prison. There he was stretched with both feet a night and a day on the rack. When he was brought before the judge and refused to make a sacrifice, his sides were furrowed and scraped to the bone while he was being beaten on the face and neck. When he still did not yield, they covered his feet with linen steeped in oil and set fire to the cloth. The fire penetrated to the bones, but the youth did not die or yield. Defeated, the tormentors returned him to prison. After three days, he was taken again to the judge. This time, as he remained faithful to his belief, he was thrown into the sea and drowned. (355)

Blandina: She was tortured by tormentors who took turns from morning till night until they were overcome. She continued to live despite her whole body being torn asunder and pierced. Later, she was bound and suspended on a stake, being exposed as food for wild animals. When none of the animals would touch her, she was taken down from the stake and returned to prison for another time. Then, after scourging, exposure to animals, and roasting, she was thrown into a net and cast before a bull. After much tossing from the animal, she died. (172-179)

Cronion: [See the account of Julian. These two received their like torture together.] (259)

Ennathas: She was dragged by force and brought before the judge. After being scourged and enduring dreadful abuses, she was stripped of her clothes above the loins. As she was led about the city, she was beaten with thongs of hide. She remained cheerful through this; and, when she was taken back before the judge, she was condemned to the flames. (365, 366)

Julian: He was an old man who was afflicted with gout. Having confessed the Lord in front of his accusers, he was carried on a camel throughout the city. In this elevation, he was scourged and finally consumed in an immense fire, surrounded by the thronging crowds of spectators. (259)

Metra: An aged man, he was called upon to utter impious statements. When he did not obey, his tormentors beat his body with clubs, and pricked his face and eyes. After that, they led him to the suburbs, where they stoned him. (257)

Origen: He endured many torments to the body because of his faith. He was under an iron collar, spent time in the deepest recesses of the prison, for many days was extended and stretched to four holes on the rack, was threatened by fire, and had other tortures. The judge tried hard to protract his life in order to prolong his sufferings. (255)

Polycarp: He was a teacher from Asia who taught multitudes not to sacrifice to the gods nor worship them. Through a vision he had, he said that he must be burned alive. After he was bound to the stake, he prayed and awaited the fire. The flames gave the appearance of an oven around him. He was in the midst, not like burning flesh, but like gold and silver purified in the flames. A fragrant odour, like the fumes of incense, or other precious aromatic drugs, was perceived. When the persecutors saw that his body could not be consumed by fire, they commanded the executor to plunge his sword into him. When this was done, such a quantity of blood gushed forth that the fire was extinguished. His body was later burned according to the custom of the Gentiles, and his bones were buried. (143)

Pothinus: He had performed the ministrations of the episcopate of Lyons. Although past ninety years of age, very infirm of body, he was taken to the tribunal where he stood firm in his faith. He was unmercifully dragged away and endured many stripes, while those nearby abused him with their hands and feet. Then, after two days in prison, he died. (174)

Procopius: Before he was tried by imprisonment, he was taken before the tribunal of the governor. When commanded to sacrifice to the gods, he declared that he knew only one to whom it was proper to sacrifice. When ordered to make libations [the ritual of pouring out wine or oil in honor of a god] to the four emperors, he stated a sentence which did not please his accusers. Immediately, he was beheaded. (349)

Quinta: They took her to the temple of an idol and tried to force her to worship. When she turned away in disgust, they tied her by the feet and dragged her through the city, dashing her against the millstones and scourging her at the same time. When they completed the dragging where they started, they stoned her. (257)

Sanctus: He suffered many torments devised by men. When these men could do no more, they fastened hot plates of brass to the most tender parts of his body. He withstood all the suffering, but his body was one continued wound, mangled and shrivelled, that had entirely lost the form of man to the external eye. Again, he passed through the tortures. These included the strokes of the scourge, the draggings and lacerations from the beasts, other tortures demanded by the audience, and the iron chair upon which his body was roasted. Other tortures followed until he died. (172-176)

Serapion: He was seized in his own house. After torturing him with the severest cruelties and breaking all his limbs, they threw him headlong from an upper storey of the house. (258)

Simeon: He was the son of Cleophas, a descendant of David, and the second bishop of Jerusalem. When he was one hundred and twenty years old, a search was made for any descendants of David. Simeon was one who was taken into custody. After he had been tormented for several days, he was crucified. (118)

Theodosia: She was not yet eighteen years old, yet was distinguished for her faith and virtue. As she approached some prisoners before the judgment seat to salute them, she was seized by the soldiers and led away to the commander. She was tortured cruelly, having her sides and breasts furrowed with instruments even to the bones. She kept a cheerful and joyful countenance throughout. Then she was ordered to be cast into the sea. (359)

Timotheus:He endured a multitude of tortures. Then he was condemned to be consumed by a slow and gentle fire. Throughout it all, he exhibited an undeniable proof of his sincere devotedness to God. (352)

Ulpian: He was a young man who suffered dreadful torments and the most severe scourgings. After all of these, he was sewn in a raw bull’s hide, together with a dog and a poisonous asp, and thrown into the sea. (357)

Zaccheus: [See the account of Alpheus. These two received their like torture together.] (350)

Conclusion

These accounts may not seem to be believable, yet they are documented in the writings of the best-known and most reliable historian in the early Christian church. How can people treat others so cruelly? Those were pagans; but Christians would never do that, would they? They would, and they have. A classic account of this is Foxe’s Christian Martyrs of the World. Much of his chronicle describes events in England during the reign of Queen Mary, the sister of Queen Elizabeth I. Many of the victims saw abuses and false teachings in the Roman Catholic church and had left it. During this time, that church was the official one in the country. Non-Catholics were outcasts and suffered cruel punishments. Other martyrs, including the apostles and European reformers are also described. The Catholics, too, suffered when the official church was a Protestant one. The Spanish Inquisition was a period when civil authorities persecuted, expelled, or killed Catholics who had renounced their faith, Protestants, Jews, and Muslims.
What happened to early-day Mormons who tried to leave the group in what is now Utah? What happens to members of some cults who discover that they have been deceived? What happens to Christians who try to teach the Gospel in a country that forbids Christianity? What did Christians do to Jews during the Crusade expeditions and during World War II? What happens to Muslims in Western nations? Many of the first colonists in the United States were Christians seeking freedom of worship that they did not have in their homelands which had an official so-called "Christian" religion. Some Christians are guilty of ostracization and other psychological means to attack those who leave their churches. Many Christians today are very apathetic about their proclaimed faith. They take for granted the religious freedom which they have.








I had a dream earlier that this man was put on the torture thing called the rack, and I watched as he was slowly pulled apart and killed. They were going to also kill me and another person, and I stood there thinking, maybe they’ll do me last, by that time the rack operator will have gotten it all out of his system and just do me real quick. Sort of like the ride operators at the carnival, you can tell if they’ve had a good day or a bad day by the way they do the rides. Sometimes they let you go twice, sometimes they speed it up, sometimes they make it go TOO fast, even when all the kids are screaming. This is mainly true with rides that just spin.

So! Then, before I woke up, I had another short dream, I was driving, and there was a thing of deer antlers on the seat, sort of between me and the steering wheel! Another rack!

So now here I sit, all wide-eyed and bushy tailed, with a huge question mark above my head and my Foxe’s Book of English Martyrs on my lap, I’ve been looking through it for some kind of connection. About the torture rack, not the deer rack.

About the deer rack. Does that mean my hypothetical balls that I keep referring to are growing?
Cause the antlers were sort of sitting there on the car seat.










I’ve been tricked, swindled, had the wool pulled over my eyes, shot and stuffed in the trunk of a 1939 Cadillac in the moonlight. Don’t make the same mistake I have made. What is it? It is: Applying Online.

Don’t do it. Here’s what happens. See it’s not really applying for work, no, what it is, is you giving out your information to the Powers That Be, and then the next thing you know, the entire world has your cell phone number, address, and anything else you would rather be kept private.

Throughout all these months of looking for work, not one worthy employer has called, but about ten thousand cronies of Big Brother have hit me up. Mainly it’s the phone company I’m hiding from, seeing as how I owe them about a thousand bucks for a set of cell phones that I agreed to be put in my name. I shudder at the thought of what Judge Judy would have to say to me about that. Or even worse, Dr. Laura.

So I up and had my number changed. It’s a beautiful thing. My usual thing is changing it about once a year, so it was long overdue anyway. I went ahead and deleted a few obsolete contacts, then called my Inner Circle, and instructed everyone to just play like they don’t know me if anyone asks for my number. I feel free once more.

My mother is at the store getting taco makings. I said, please no more light sour cream, please get the real thing. I need some fat and some calories right now. I don’t know what’s going on but I have no appetite and I’m losing weight. Which is not a good thing, seeing as how I’m about to be sucked into the system again and I need to be feelin hearty and strong. Instead, currently, I’m feeling trembly and chills and foggy and exhausted. How can I make a good impression like that? I don’t know what’s wrong but I seem to have the strength of an 80 year old woman right now.

Yesterday I slept from 3:00 pm to 9:30 pm, was up for a while, got caffeinated and tried to blog, but was too exhausted, and ended up sleeping until this morning. And today it’ll probably hit me again around 3 or 4 and I’ll need to sleep again. I haven’t been this tired in months.

I had to go to the bookstore & get a book on vitamins to refresh my brain on all of it. I really don’t buy into any of it. But seeing as how that’s what I’ve been doing for the past decade I’m thinking that’s where I belong. Working the vitamin stores. On some levels I think I really hate it, deep down. Then again it’s so easy. But then again I resent the fact that I’m spending so much time learning about nutrition when the body is dying anyway. I’m quite conflicted about the whole thing and this is why sometimes I fantasize about having a Sugar Daddy, but who doesn’t?










I can’t believe this. I can’t stop blogging now. As it turns out, if you rearrange the letters in my maiden name, it spells normal! But with an H. So now I have to use it. So I’m back, but just for a little while. I can’t let this discovery go to waste. I’ve been in need of a good name for a long time. I’m not sure but this may be it. But then again I just don’t know. It’s not cute enough. We’ll see. I did have a good blogging name already but the thing is, I stole it. Which compromises my need to be original. Even though my maiden name was technically stolen from my father, it’s still mine. And even more mine, if I switch around the letters, right?

It’s a good thing I discovered this today because it gave me incentive to get back on, and that’s good, because I have some things to report. For starters, today I ate Clown Food. There’s no other way to describe it. It was all a mistake. I couldn’t keep up with the drive thru line, it went so fast, there was no time to really read and decide, and I was rushed, as usual, so instead of ordering something I really wanted, I just blurted out that I wanted the breakfast 6. The orange juice was good, the hash brown was good. But the main course was something that a 5 year old must have thought up. It was: a McGriddle. I never had one before, mainly because I haven’t been out of the house before noon in over a year, and if I am, it’s Whataburger all the way. But today was different, as I was exploring a new area for new possibilities, when lo and behold, a thrift store! One I never even knew existed! But it didn’t open for 15 more minutes, thus, my trek through McDonald’s, and that’s how I ended up eating Clown Food for breakfast. Let me tell you about it. I opened up the wrapper, glanced at it, and just busted out laughing. Instead of a bun, my meal was tucked in between two little pancakes, and not only that but they had the big M on them, like seared in. Then, perfect looking strips of bacon that were cut in perfect squares, on top of a bright yellow egg that looked like something I played with in preschool in the play kitchen area. The cheese was neon orange. I took a bite and started laughing even more, because, as if the appearance of the thing were not enough, this little do-dadd of a meal has SYRUP on it. Yes. Syrup. I can’t believe this is even served to adults. I did eat it, and enjoyed it, but I just kept thinking of some clown somewhere, laughing. At the fact that somewhere out there, people are eating his invention. I called my brother in law cause I thought he would get into a conversation about it with me, but no! As it turns out, he loves them! I couldn’t believe it. I’m surprised there wasn’t a little piece of candy lodged in the center of it, or maybe a little surprise toy. Nevermind.

The other thing I had to report is what I found in the thrift store! I was supposed to be looking for decent clothes for an interview, but instead something so cute caught my eye, it was a little piece of wood with some ceramic peas on it. You hang it on your wall. It looks like some old lady made it and it is so cute! It’s three pods, and the one in the middle is opened and you can see the little peas inside. It looks like she just rolled a bunch of clay into little balls and tucked them in there, and painted them green. I don’t know why I like it so much, but it’s hanging on my bathroom wall now. It’s the very first thing I’ve bought in about 2 years that’s a decoration of some kind. And the more I look at it, the more I realize, I want more things like that. I’m not sure but I think I might be going country, but not in a Texas way, no, it’s more like, stop trying and see beauty in junk kind of way. Like, bottle cap windchimes and things like that. You know what I’m talking about. The things you really deep down want in your house. Not junk, not clutter, but things that make you feel happy. I’m telling you, thrift stores are a haven of wealth and they are always chock full of happy things. They never let me down.

Well it looks like my snake is hot again. My Virtual Snake. My Interlocking Lexicon of Love Links. And my ex is paying the price. Ha! That’s funny. Seeing as how he answers emails and I don’t, all our old friends inquire about me to him, then he turns around and calls me and he’s like, You’ll never believe who I talked to today... and I always have to say, DO NOT GIVE OUT MY INFORMATION. There is a reason why I am not available. It’s simple! Cause I don’t want to be! If you get ballsy enough like me, you too can be free one day.

I got more compliments from him today. He made my day. In fact he’s the reason why I’m up & blogging as we speak, I’m in a good mood all cause of him. He said, Amy you never ceased to amaze me when we were married. I just don’t know how you did it. It didn’t matter HOW broke we were, or how shitty of a dump we lived in, or the fact that I worked TWO shifts to put food on the table...but you ALWAYS found a way to use my peanut butter and my bread and make sandwiches for all the f**king homeless people and pass them out.

Then we got on the subject of how funny it is that people who don’t know me, guys especially, mistake me for being sweet. I said, well I am sweet, just protective of my mind. And he goes, Oh! You don’t have to tell me! I know better than to go near that dangerous bastard!

Sometimes I think I would marry him all over again, just so I could enjoy this divorce to him. Hey! Now there’s a thought! Do you always have to get married in order to be divorced? Would it be possible to meet someone, fall in love, then head to the courthouse for a divorce? Without getting married? Then, when the honeymoon is over, get married? Cause isn’t that the way it is anyway? Why are people so unhappy when they’re married, then relieved and happy and friends when they’re divorced? Why is this?

I’m so lazy right now just the thought of making this a cute profile makes me want to sleep. I’m exhausted. Why can’t I stop this blogging? If you would stop reading then maybe I would stop writing. You are enabling me. I’m going to have to put my foot down right here and ask you to stop.

But then I hear so & so was reading my stuff, and then someone asked me today, done any writing lately? HOW CAN I QUIT? I’m trying! I can’t! This is turning into a real nightmare! What next! Who knows! Alright that’s it. I’m going to bed but when I get up I’m making a HUGE POT OF COFFEE and YOU’RE ALL GOING TO PAY THE PRICE.