It’s taking a long, long time but I think I’m beginning to understand a few things.  I took my prayer walk this morning and didn’t care who, if anyone, heard me because I needed to understand.  I needed to understand why did I have to endure the growing up years I had?  Why did I have to have such heinous “parents” and why so many “respectable” people used me like their personal ragdoll?  Why does all that have to do with where my life is going, or is it going anywhere?  Why?  What purpose did all that serve?

Then I remembered something I learned on my venture to Charleston: “Everything has a purpose and a reason that we may not see, but someone does.  We have the choice at every turn to let it conquer us or let it teach us!  If we learn then we can teach.”  Thank you to the Right Reverend “I’m Not A Shithead” for that nugget of wisdom.

Since I was helped to escape my situation, I was letting my past terrify me into distrusting everyone.  I hid from people.  I hid from friendships.  I hid from me because I didn’t want anyone to know what had happened to me and I was ashamed that it happened to me.  I had become ashamed and believed I deserved nothing other than continued shame and degradation.

However, whilst on my prayer stroll I happened upon a flower growing through the sidewalk.  Nothing really special about the flower but I couldn’t help but stop and focus on that flower.  Then, after several minutes, it hit me:  This flower had to fight it’s way through the ground and through the pavement to see daylight.  It could easily be trampled or pulled up, but it made it to the sunshine IN SPITE OF all that would keep it forever buried.

I decided then and there that I’m through being afraid and ashamed!  And I know that will take a lot of effort because those are my comfort zones that I have lived in all my life.  But now it’s the time to rise above the past and see the sunshine!  Perhaps, at some point, help others who are trapped in the human trafficking trade.


Don’t Poke The Bear!


Logan has told me, on many occasions, that I have three moods: Normal, Sarcastic, and Bitch.  Well, today he decided to see what it took to flip the switches.  It all started when I asked if he would brew a cup of tea for me while I was in the shower.  Not too much to ask of one’s brother, or so I thought.  Apparently he was in one of his “Poke The Bear” moods.

Whilst I was in the shower with soap all over and shampoo in full bubble, I heard the shower door open and then Logan said, “Here’s your tea. I used your hot shower water to save time.”  I managed to get one eye open and he had popped the cup of now soapy tea in the soap tray.  I was furious!  Yes, he had flipped my switch to FULL bitch mode!  Do NOT fuck with my tea!!!

I finished my shower without chewing the glass out of the door and stormed down the hall to give him a piece of my mind.  I lit into him like a fire to kindling only to see him give me a smirk.  I had had it!  I was just about to reach into his throat and pull his eyes out when he glanced behind me.  When I spun around, our garden neighbor had quite the stunned expression on his face.  It was in that instant I realized two things: 1. I was still wet from the shower and, 2. my bathrobe was still in the lav.  I stood there in horror with nothing between me and our neighbor except a piece of glass. Which would not have been so bad had I remained facing Logan with just my arse facing the neighbor, but when I turned around….nothing was hidden except whatever dignity I may have had at some time in the past.

I was still fuming as I walked to work.  Not even Mozart’s “Marriage of Figaro” was of any consolation.  Upon reaching the street where I work, I noticed a sign that explained that workers would be making some sort of repair at some point in the next century or two, depending on the length and frequency of their coffee breaks, and that all employees were to enter through another door.  I walked past one of the workers who thought he was being such a stud when he asked me if I liked taking the rear entrance.  I stopped, turned to him, got nose-to-nose with him, smiled, and said, “Oh, I like all sorts of things.  However, as you have chosen blurt out my secret, I can’t invite you in.  Perhaps one of your lads would be willing to step up and bend over for you.”  And I walked away, still fuming.

Logan telephoned to apologize and asked me if he could take me to lunch to make up for his asshole-ness.  I accepted and he came by to pick me up.  As we left, I heard a familiar voice make some comment, which I shan’t repeat, as to whether I preferred men or women.  Again, I turned, walked up nose to nose with him, and asked him to repeat himself.  Instead, he reached around and grasped by buttocks.  Remembering the training I had received from Sister Thomasina, this gentleman was extremely surprised when his face hit the pavement and his thumb broke.  Astonishingly, when the constable arrived, this wonderfully articulate workman expressed his deepest apologies for having tripped and fallen on the pavement in front of me and how grateful he was that I was there to “help him up.”  Trip to jail averted because he didn’t want to admit to anyone that a girl of 8.5 Stone had KICKED HIS ASS!

Logan stood there dumbfounded for quite some time, as did the workman’s associates.



“So….Where Do You See Yourself In 5 Years?”


I got called into THE Boss’s Office for a bit of a chat.  My Supervisor told me not to worry, everything is fine.  It’s just that She and I have not met up to this point.  Needless to say, this is not a situation I am comfortable with and my stomach was threatening to expel everything I had consumed since the day I was born.  I was sweating in places I didn’t believe were sweatable.  My heart was pounding in my ears so loudly that I couldn’t hear for several minutes, I just saw mouths move but no sound.

I tip toed down the carpeted hall toward the door which had a shiny brass placard stating the Chief Librarian was contained inside.  Along the walls were photos of Chief Librarians from past decades.  And the closer I got to the door, my stomach lurched and I knew it was coming…..I farted.  Not one of those loud rippers you jump up and yell “YEAH BAYBEE!” about, rather it was the silent variety that will take the colour out of the carpet and will melt the metal radiator.

When I finally reached the door, I knocked, rather timidly, and waited, picturing in my mind a stern, severe faced woman with a very tight bun, a boring suit, very thick glasses and a giant mole on the end of her nose which kept her spectacles from sliding off.  The door opened and I prepared to gasp (or worse again), but the person who greeted me was a lovely woman who appeared to be in her mid forties.  She was polite, courteous, friendly and sincere.  She invited me into her lair….ummmm….office. Offered me a cup of tea, which I didn’t feel I should or could refuse, so I accepted graciously.  She invited me to sit next to her on the rather luxurious leather sofa.

She kicked her shoes off and curled her feet under her as she relaxed.  We chatted a bit about this and that, nothing of any import.  I was beginning to feel more at ease when she said, “I suppose you are wondering why I asked to meet you.”  Being nervous, my focus was in keeping that which I had left in the hallway from reoccurring in this enclosed office.  I admitted that I was curious, not in the “what does being dead feel like” curious, rather more in the “how delicious is this beer going to be” curious.

As we talked, she told me her name was Linda and that she had started at the Library doing my job 25 years ago (which stunned me) and she said everything at that time had to be done by hand and typewriter.  Then came the inevitable question, out of the blue and without warning, “Where do you see yourself in 5 years?”

How does one answer such a question?  I mean to I tell Linda that I want her job by then, or that I plan to marry some ancient rich guy pump him full of Viagra and ride the wave into a wonderful inheritance?  Do I tell Linda that I’m going to write a best seller, go on a lecture circuit, and become the mermaid I always wanted to be as a child? What about the pirate daydream? Or just being the best me that I can be?

I can honestly tell you that I have no idea where I’ll end up 10 minutes from now!

I HATE these type questions.

Would You?


If I told you

“I Love You”

How would you feel?

What would you think?

What would you expect?

Would you hold my hand?

Would you be goofy?

Would you be serious?

Would your heart feel a thrill when our skin touched?

How would it feel to be near each other?

Would you look into my eyes?

Would you touch my hair?

Would we walk on beach at sunset?

Would we watch sappy movies?

Would we dine in nice places?

Having never known true love,

I wonder what it would be like to be loved.

Why Live Under “What If”?


I’ve been many things in my life, thus far:

·       A Thinker

·       A Dreamer

·       Inquisitive

·       Bashful

·       Hurt

·       Abused

·       Happy

·       Sad

·       And all the other of Snow White’s Dwarves.

Of late, I have pondered one phrase which seems to have dominated my mental fuel…What If?  Consider how our lives are controlled by those two words!  How many times have we wanted to do something or say something but we were stopped dead in our tracks by the notion of “What if”?  What if I say the wrong thing and they hate me afterward?  What if I say something stupid and they laugh at me?  What if I do something boneheaded and have to move to the desert of the Antarctic?  What if I say or do something that just makes the situation worse?  You get where I’m going with this.

We are so controlled by these two simple words!

I’m a self-confessed dreamer and wondered what it would be like to be a pirate (especially if I actually had boobs).  What would that be like?  Not only that, but I have wondered what if my parents had actually be nice instead of being the trolls found under beds in children’s nightmares that never end?  What if my life had been different?  What if…..what if…..what if?

I had an AHM this weekend.  What’s AHM?  “Ah Ha Moment.”  Every event in my life has a purpose and a reason AND can be used to bring comfort to someone else.  Everything that I learn and do is no longer going to be controlled by “What If” rather it’s going to be controlled “Why Not?”

My sperm donor “father” must have been the reincarnation of the Marquis de Sade while my besotted “mother” was just pickled.  Yet I have learned from having to deal with them that people can be extremely cruel, but instead of asking “what if” I can now use what I have learned from them and the events that has pushed me thus far and say “Why Not” help someone else!

Think about it: “What If” we stopped being afraid to help?  “What If” we stopped being mortified to reach out and care?

I still want to be a chesty pirate with a parrot!  On second thought….I rather like being able to see my feet.

I Should Not Be Allowed In Public

Doctor Visit

This Friday past, I had my trip to see a physician.  As I have several physical issues from my youth, I have to make this journey every six months to make sure all my bits and parts are still humming along and not trying to kill each other (or me).  Understand I try to take care of myself.  I stroll to and from work unless some horrendous storm prevents me from remaining on the ground.  I eat as I should, for the most part, with the occasional trip to the pub for a burger (twice a week whether I want to or not).

I am very familiar with the routine of my visits normally, but this time was a wee bit different as my appointment had been moved to a Teaching Hospital now that Logan and I have our own flat in a new village.  So I actually had to beg a ride from Logan because I am not walking half way across the county for this and I don’t trust cabbies.  Logan agreed to take me as long as I behaved myself (WhatEVER could he mean?).  I told him I would keep my arms, hands, and feet inside the car until the ride came to a complete halt.  He snorted, snugged my carriage belt tight, and off we tooled off to see the doc.

I won’t go into the interminable wait (thank goodness I brought my tablet so I could read) because the mags were always at least 6 years old with all the puzzles already done and most of the celebrities in them are either dead, in rehab for the 100th time, or no one remembers them.  Across from me sat a small boy holding a lolly and, gauging from the volcanic eruption of greenish slime flowing from his nostrils, he was not in the best of health.  However, he started to toddle toward me with his chubby fist outstretched to offer me a lick of his lolly.  Thankfully, his Mum intercepted him just in time.  Logan chuckled under his breath (asshole!).

When my number was finally called, it was as if I had just won the grand prize on a gameshow.  All the other contestants in the waiting area glared at me with jealous expressions.  I was escorted to a lav, handed a cup and told I needed to “give a sample.”  I was diligent in fulfilling my mission and, once accomplished, I toddled back toward the nurse’s station to submit my sample for their scrutiny.  Along the way, I was intercepted by a young lady about my age whose eyes were big and glazed.  I swear I could hear air escaping from her ears when she asked me what was in my cup.  I responded excitedly, “It’s tea!  You can get some around the corner.” Apparently my sarcasm was lost on her as she continued to maintain the “I have no idea what to think” expression on her face.

After submitting my cup to the proper authorities, I was escorted to an exam room and told to disrobe, put on the gown, and the doctor would be in shortly.  Well, I attempted to apply the robe to my naked body, but as it was fitted for a Sumo Grand Champion, I just let it fall and got on the table and put my legs in the stirrups to save time and any awkward conversations. I closed my eyes for a bit to avoid eye contact as much as possible.

Within minutes, I heard the door open and heard several feet shuffling into the room.  When I peeked, I saw 7 people in white coats staring at my “Bits In The Air” motif.  Apparently, I had “jumped the gun” a bit, to put it mildly.  There was supposed to be some fact gathering through an interview process.  And here I was ready for the poking and prodding and the application of various unguents and uncomfortable appliances to my lady parts.  I told the person with the namebadge, who I presumed was the one in charge, that we can multi-task as my ride is waiting in the lobby a bit impatiently.

Thus, while I was asked general questions from the person seated next to my head while a bearded person at my “business end” began the exam with ice cold hands and instruments.  Therefore, many of my answers to the questionnaire were interrupted by gasps and barks of various exclamations of profanity.  After all the prodding ceased I was told I could sit up and get dressed.  As my bits had, by this juncture, been frozen by the cold items thrust into my every crevice, I walked back to the lobby as though I was a rodeo rider.  Logan looked up and I told him to SHUT UP!

I swear he took the bumpiest path home ever just to enjoy my immense discomfort!

Empower My Ass!


I was invited to attend what I was told would be a social gathering and discussion group.  Since I am trying to come out of my shell a bit more, I accepted the invitation.  The social gathering was pretty interesting as there were quite a number of people from several walks of life.  The finger foods were quite tasty and I discovered the foods were specific to represented ethnic diversity of the group.

I rather enjoyed the chat time.  I’m not much on small talk and am a painfully deep introvert, but I took the daring step to engage in the small talk conversations.  The groups were friendly toward me and seemed to accept me even though I am a confessed weirdo and nerdy geek with an horrific life, for the most part.  If I am completely honest, people scare the crap out of me (long story that. read previous entries for further background).

All was going well until the facilitator of the discussion opened her mouth.  She started out telling the group that the only way to bring down the power of the overseers is to become empowered.  She then went on to talk (ever louder) about how women, and people “of colour” have been kept down and that had to change through becoming empowered.  Her rants continued with Empowerment this and empowerment that and this race is to be hated and brought down.

When the “discussion” ended, I was SO happy to be out of that sewer of hate!  I am a mixed ethnicity person my sperm donor “father” who tortured me for YEARS was Asian and my drunken lump of a “mother” was Hispanic.  My skin is rather dark as is my hair, my eyes are almond shaped and deep brown.  So I guess one could plop me in the bag of “minorities” but as for hating others simply because of the pigmentation of their skin?  Hating people because WE didn’t make the most of the opportunities we had?

What I got out of that discussion was the facilitator’s desire to get the group to hate THEMSELVES so much that they blame and hate others.  This group, while outwardly appearing to be friendly and accepting, is nothing more than just another hate group.  If you hate, for whatever reason, you are just another hater!

If you want respect, be respectable!  If you want to be accepted, be accepting!  If you want opportunities….open your eyes and look around.  Sometimes the opportunities mean going against the opinions of those who are nothing but hatred personified!


When The Past Haunts


Softly they come

subdued in their voice

as they promise that all will be well.

Gentle their caress

as they enter your mind

and touch your heart

They embrace you

once again

like a lover

with whom you

were once comfortable.

Their caressing fingers

turn to talons

razor sharp

eager to draw blood

once again

Their grip is incessant

Their desire insistent

Their plan almost unstoppable.

The phantoms

of the past

know just where to touch

to draw you back

into the hell of the abyss

that once was daily life.

Far too long

these voices have coaxed

pleaded, insisted, begged,

and even demanded

that I return with them

to relive…to re-endure

Sweat pours from every pore

my body wracked with

the past horrors

the past lusts

the past pains

the past…

What am I to do

When the past beckons

refusing to be denied?

What Did You Say?

Feeling trapped

Have you ever had one of those conversations where you are asked a question and, normally, you would ponder your response, put the words into their correct order and tense, then line them up and send them off to the filter before allowing them to exit the mouth into the general hearing of all?  I have, shamefully, been part of these conversations over the last several days where the all systems have failed!

For example, I left my desk to toddle off to use the loo.  As I passed the desk of one of my coworkers, he asked where I was going.  I shot him “that look” which I had hoped would give his mind the message that it was time for him to shut his mouth.  Yet… it was.

Him: “Where are YOU going?”

Me: “To the loo if you MUST know?”

Him: “Why are you going to the loo?”

(By this point, I was COMPLETELY embarrassed due to other coworkers began looking up from their work to stare at this interchange)

Me: “IF you MUST know, Mister Magoo…..I’m going to the loo to think of you whilst I poo.”

While that ended our exchange, I did feel rather bothered by having to explain such an event.


Later, Logan phoned me at work:

Logan: “Hey Tim, what are you doing?”

Me: “I’m talking to a jackass on the other end of this line asking idiot questions. And you?”

Logan: “Being the jackass phoning to remind you that you have a wax appointment after work.”

Me: “What gave you that impression?”

Logan: “Well, when you walked past me this morning, your gorilla legs were quite evident….”

Me: (cutting him off angrily) “WHAT? How DARE you!”

Logan: (continuing completely nonplussed) “And the shoppe called to remind you because they couldn’t raise you on your cell.”

Me: (realizing that I had left my phone in the loo where I had been earlier) “oh, thank you”


We seem to have a penchant for asking idiot questions and then getting offended when we get sarcastic answers.  I told Logan I was heading to the shops.  He asked what I was going for, so I told him, truthfully, I needed a new bra.  To which his response, without even looking at me, was “what you going to put in it?”.

I apparently suck at conversing!



And Then The Sun

mist of the dawn

As I stroll

This misty morn

My thoughts

And contemplations

Wander along

A path unseen

My thoughts

And ponderings

Are drawn to the mist

And to the path unseen

My life has not been

A journey through torment,

Hate, loathing, despair

With no way conceivable

To get away

And yet one day

I was rescued

By one who cares

By one who loves

By one who understands

My hero

As I ponder the mist



That Ah HA moment

Rises in my soul

Like the dawning sun

I know through what I came

I understand how I felt

Yet I know not exactly where

My life will lead

Yet each step I take in faith

I finally understand

This life is not about me

This life is to be invested

This life is to be used

To help others

Who are suffering

Who are in pain

Who think there’s no way out.

And then, the sun begins to clear

The mist from the path