Revealing survey
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
| Survey Time 1. Were you dating the last person you kissed? |
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
| Survey Time 1. Were you dating the last person you kissed? |
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| Friday, November 02, 2007
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Sunday, October 28, 2007
| 10 days until I am a non-smoker! I started smoking at 17 after my mom had kicked me out of the house and I was sleeping on my cousin's couch alot....I have tried to seriously quit at least 5-6 times and have yet to succeed. But I really want to treat my body better and this is the first step I want to take in this direction. So, I decided months ago I was going to quit as a 30th Birthday present to myself, and now it is right around the corner! My bday is Nov 7th, so after 11:59 pm on Nov 6th - I'm done. |
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
| Dirty 30 Since I will be 30 in two weeks, this seems an appropriate survey :) 8:23 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add |
Saturday, October 20, 2007
| Chocolate Cake for Breakfast Here are some more of my writings for my book: "Chocolate Cake for Breakfast". I invite your opinions, editing and comments in general. Also - if you have any suggestions on how I can get this published, please let me know - thanks!
Age 6
I heard the screaming from my room. Then I heard the sound of the belt slicing the air and then making contact, solidly. I was in my room, with the door closed. I walked over to my bedroom door and stood there, staring at it while tears filled my eyes. I could tell it was my sister screaming and it was coming from my parents bedroom, right across the hall. She was denying something in the midst of the screams but I had no idea what. I opened my door slowly and peeked outside. I wanted to stop him; I wanted to save her. But my feet were weighed down with the fear of having his anger turned on me. I only made it to the hallway right outside my door. I sat down on the floor with my back against my door and cried. He was screaming at her. I knew there was no way he could hear my cries over my sisters, so I felt safe. My mom came down the hall and saw me crying. She told me to go back in my room and invested a perfunctory sentence or two to placate my fears. My mom stood outside her bedroom door as if she was about to go in and stop him, and I went back into my room, being careful to shut the door without making a sound. I don't know how long she stood there, but she never opened the door and the screaming continued.
Age 10 I came home from school for lunch every day in elementary school. The school office accepted this without question (that I am aware of) and gave me a new cardboard pass at the beginning of each school year because it got so worn out. Either my dad would pick me up and take me to Fat Jacks (a 50's themed drive in), some other fast food place, or he would take me home for lunch. As I got older I walked the two blocks home by myself. It didn't seem strange within my family that I never had a school lunch or that I was not allowed to go to friends houses and in general was kept very sheltered. Under the guise of protection, my mother kept me cloistered at home, safe with my father the molester. During one of those lunches at home my parents fought at the table while I was eating my grilled cheese. I had perfecting exiting their world at that point, in favor of the world in my mind, out of sheer practice. Thankfully, I had a vivid imagination. I finished eating and left the table to do something else. As soon as my dad saw that I didn't take my plate with me, he started yelling and I started running, praying that I would make it to my room in time to shut my door. I started crying as soon as I heard him taking off his belt as he ran after me. I wasn't fast enough and the next thing I knew I was flung across my bed and the belt was flying. His aim was off because with his first strike the belt hit my the heel of my tennis shoe and knocked it right off of my foot. I kept screaming and crying, he kept hitting, and my mom kept her seat warm at the dining room table.
Age 11 My dad had moved out at this point. My parents told us he had to transfer because of his job. My brother and sister were already out of the house at this point, my brother was around 24 and my sister 21. We later found out that he had a separate family and it was easier to maintain the facade with them if he lived in Bakersfield. It was either the weekend or summer, or both. My dad was in town and we had some extended family over for a barbecue. My brother and sister were there, as were some aunts, uncles and cousins. Our dog, Bubba, a beautiful white and brown Samoyed-Shepherd mix was howling outside. He was as old as I was, we had grown up together and he was the best pillow I ever had – big, fluffy and full of love. He was mostly blind and deaf because of his age. I think having so many people over scared him; he began howling and barking. Almost immediately my dad took off his belt and marched out to the back yard toward Bubba as we all watched through the sliding glass door. Uncomfortable conversation continued for most of the people there, but I was transfixed. My dad wailed with full force, beating Bubba with his belt. Bubba yelped out of pain and cowered on the ground. I looked at my sister, my brother and my mom, all of whom stood watching and doing nothing. Tears blurred my view as I ran through the living room, toward the back yard. I didn't know what I was going to do, but it didn't matter, I knew I couldn't just watch. I was about to open the door when adult hands pulled me back and away, holding me despite my flails to get free. I didn't save my dog from my dad. Later that night I remember going out to Bubba and burying my head in his soft, full coat and letting it dry my tears.
Age 10/11 I was in the 6th grade and I had a friend from school; her name was Melissa. I couldn't go over to her house often but my mom let her come over and play. One day we were playing with Barbies in my room when my dad came in said he needed to talk to me. My mom had just been yelling at him about something, so I was nervous. I followed him into my parent's room and was thankful when he kept the door open. He told me in a flat, emotionless voice that I had a half sister who was named Julie who was 10 years older than I was (the same age as my sister, Denise) and if I wanted to meet her and her family, Denise would take me to see them. I didn't ask any questions and quickly returned to my room. I later found out that Denise was born in Oregon because my family fled California to avoid paying child support for Julie who had just been born. |
Monday, October 15, 2007
| Post-op Surgery went well, I'm alive. The packing in the nose sucks, feels like I have to sneeze all the time. I got an absolutely gorgeous bouquet of fall flowers from my Virginia Sara - thank you! The card was beautifully you and they were waiting for me when I got home from surgery, so that was fabulous. Heather picked me and kept me great company waiting around before hand and taking care of me after. My housemate Sara is taking great care of me when I let her, which I'm having a bit of a hard time with. |
Sunday, October 14, 2007
| Countdown to Surgery and randomness So, tomorrow I have my deviated septum surgery and I will be able to breathe through my nose again! It's been more than a decade, so I'm a little anxious |