The Heiress Of Emptyness: I was only joking. . .

The Heiress Of Emptyness: I was only joking. . .

I was only joking. . .

Diary Entry - 33

If nothing is what is seems, where the fuck does that leave me?  I am listening to my mother's LP's that I have converted to cd. . .the main topic. . .Rod Stewart.  You would be amazed at the difference between LP and CD. 

Anyway, it wasn't the quality so much as time era.  My own time "era" has changed in my lapse of writing since September.  Had time been on my side, along with Billy and Patty, perhaps. . .my own point of view would not have been changed.

Death, no matter how you look at it. . .changes you and those around you. . .those that really cared, anyway.

This particular LP, reminds me of my mother and her incessant and compulsive need to be. . . .even in death, that bitch controlled every fucking thing about it. Hence, while it was my least favorite of all his work. .  . it did hit home the voracity of parental influence. . .or to some of you. . .lack of there of.

All this was brought home to me in the modern version of "Black Swan". . .

Yes absolutely, Natalie Portman was, incredible.  For everyone who has ever lived with an over bearing, Psycho, manipulative, narrssistic, yet under-achieving mother. . .this is a movie for you.....  After you see it, run, don't bother packing your bags. . .send her a post card from Montazuma. . .

Am I fucked up. . ..absofuckingloutley. . .do I want to run naked through the streets of Memphis. .  where my mother was  a debute, who loved Elvis and believed that every family should have one.

I have been brought to my knees, pulled myself up and landed on my feet more times than a cat has lives... why, because you, haven't seen the last of me. . .  Survivors, we all share the same mark.

Cracks In The Crystal Ball. . .

Diary - Entry 32

When I started out writing this diary, it was for several reasons, to honor my brother, to lay bare the sins of my family (as I see them) and to relate my own feelings about the past and my chronological existence.

While I boldly strip the flesh from that of my family, friends and lovers. . .I cannot help but expose my own indiscretions, madness, mistakes, and things I wish I could have done differently. Tonight, I am shooting single malt whiskey. . . .which I never drink hard stuff, but the writing is taking me to a place that I have not visited in more years than I can count and I hope it dulls the pain.

My worst regret, one that will remain with me till the day I die. . .is the existence of my son, that I gave up for adoption.  His  father was married and this was the result of an afternoon in Illinois.  When I called to tell him, he told me that his wife was pregnant (something that he had wanted for a long time), therefore, I did not tell him I was going to have a baby as well.

It broke me into a million pieces to give him up, but I wanted him to have the things that I could not give him (as I was a traveling photographer at the time),  especially since his father was now ecstatic over the impending birth of his "first" child, which was actually his second.  Our son, was blond headed and brown eyed, with finely arched eyebrows and full lips.  To this day, I still remember every detail of him,including the intense pain of separation that I went through when I met his adoptive parents and he was handed over to them, without ceremony.

The records were permanently sealed by the courts. 

That put the final nail of niceness in my own coffin of buried memories.  I can be so mean when I wanna be, I am capable of really anything, I can cut you into pieces when my heart is broken. . . . .that is a line from a Pink song that  says what I feel at the moment. . .

Men, they have the inability to only see what is in front of them at the moment, not what is good for them. . .

Good Night.

I Often Think of Shirley Valentine. . .

Diary - Entry 33

If any of you out there have ever seen the movie "Shirley Valentine" then you know what tonight's topic is about.  If not, you should rent it. . .

It is about a woman, who, half way through her unsatisfying marriage, goes to Greece on a group tourist trip and ends up starting  over.  All alone.

At the age of 47, I have had only 5 intimate relationships  (all long term) during those years.  To some, it is more than one too many, to others it seems minuscule.  I have been accused of many more, but only I and God, know that those five are what I have truly done from a physical intimacy level.

Unlike Shirley, I am fully aware of what my absence would do to my family.  But still one has to wonder what the other side, Which clings to the secret doors, buried deep within out minds, what would happen if we gave in to desires, longings, past imperfections and the every present fantasy that knows no bounds.

Disillusion, Divorce and The Division Of Assets. . .

Diary - Entry 32

Tonight, I am listening to a compilation of Celtic music called "The Scottish Moors" and having a second glass of wine.  After my husbands traveling the last three days, I went out and spent the afternoon at the spa.  I had the most wonderful massage, along with getting my nails and tootsies done.  I felt good for a while and very relaxed, until I got home that is. There is always peace in the house, while he is traveling, but once he returns home. . . all hell seems to break loose.

Anyway, at some point I need to finish up with Jay and move onto the next segments/chapters/whatever this is. . .

The day our son was born, is a day that is a fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday.  Hayden spent nearly 26 hours trying to come into this world, finally, he was delivered by C Section.  My doctor later told  me (I was his first patient - fresh out of residency and so on) ] he had never seen such a huge baby trying to fit through a pelvic span that hip bone to hip bone only measured 14 inches wide.

Hayden came out with a terrible "Cone head", the cord was around his neck and he was the size of a three month old baby.  Once they wrapped in some type of foil to retain his heat and put a hat on, they let Jay hold him.  I was asleep during the operation and thankful for it.

Many hours later, when I finally woke up.  They brought Hayden to me.  When I saw him, I started crying. He was so big, so swollen, bruised and he looked like a dwarf.  I told the nurses that they had brought me the wrong baby. . .  I said, Dr. Jennings said the baby would weigh around 7 lbs, according to the measurements he had taken that morning.  Apparently, I was carrying most of him in my back.  He weighed almost 10 lbs and was almost 2 ft long.

We had to return all the baby clothes that we had been given for newborns because they did not fit.  We had to go into 6month clothing.  Jay and I used to lay Hayden on the floor and change his clothes 5 or 6 times to see how everything looked on him.  That was a happy time in those early days of our marriage and parenthood.  Jay helped with Hayden, the housework and still went to school.  We traveled back and forth so all our friends and family could see him.  Yet, the novelty of a new baby, new responsibilities and so forth, did not keep Jay home long.  He was back to his old ways.

On one of my trips home, Jay had not come with me, I only stayed the night and went home on Sunday.  When I got home, Jay wasn't there, so I fed, bathed and put Hayden to bed.  I was pulling up the side of his crib when I saw something dark under the crib against the wall.  I bent down to pick it up.  It was a pair of women's jeans and they were not mine.  I put the night light on and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind me.

When Jay finally did come home. . .I hit him with the jeans.  He said he had no idea who's they were and he must have picked them up at the laundromat by accident.  I said "oh, then how did they end up under our son's crib?". . .  He stammered, turn red in the face and I knew right then and there that we where through.  I screamed at him, "how dare you bring  your whore into our house, into our bed and then stuff the evidence under the bed our son sleeps in". . . I hit him again for all I was worth.  The next day, I packed up and my son and I went to visit my mother in Michigan.  I was there almost 3 weeks, when he knocked on the door.  He asked me to come home, said he was sorry and it wouldn't happen again.  Yeah, that was the same story I heard the next time that Donna Rector called.

After that, I left him for good, or so I thought.

Lock The Door. . . .and turn the lights down low

Diary - Entry 31

Tonight, I am listening to Josh Turner. . .

The hour is not late (11pm), but yet, I feel as if I have not slept in 'says, weeks, months or even years. . . reliving ones past is sometimes draining, oppressive and downright horrendous.  To see the choices that you made, on the path that you took, wondering if you took the right road. . .because it sure as hell was too late to turn around  and go the other way. . . too many things have happened, too many choices (good and bad) made and too many regrets on so many levels that the maze of life feels as if it will never let you out.

I am sleeping over with a girlfriend, Hugh is watching a movie with her daughter and we have had a couple of Raspberry Mojita's, while swimming in her fabulous pool with the kids.   I needed some down time, and as we have  developed a good friendship over the last 6 years ( she and I are one another's safety nets.. .), I needed to talk to someone other than me, myself and I.  It isn't often that my husband is a prick, but he was in rare form the last few days and I just had to get away from him.

I don't feel up to delving deep tonight, I have too much on my mind to thrust myself backwards, at the moment.  Needless to say, I will be somewhat less detailed than usual. . .apparently there are people that know more about my past than I do. . . .which, makes certain conversations . . . difficult at best.  This is not personal, it is just the way I feel.    Goodnight for now.

One Foot Wrong. . .

Diary Entry - 30

It's like your a... swingset and I am the kid who falls.. . . .

I am feeling in a Pink mood tonight.  She sings what I feel.. . .most of it covering a span of time that most people would find a lifetime crammed into a shell of nothingness.

I would really like to begin, where I left off, but somehow, considering my mood, that just doesn't seem appropriate.

The Pink CD I refer to is Funhouse. . .  Each song says something to me in a way that is appropriate to most phases in my life.

I my case, that was my son, James Hayden Anderson V.  I did not want to name him that, but like all other factors in my marriage to Jay, I had no choice.  Therefore, to distinguish him from his father and most of all his grandfather, I insisted that he be called by his middle name, Hayden.

From the moment I found out I was pregnant, even though I was scheduled to leave for Lackland Airforce Base, I was at odds.  Not so much because I was against abortion, but I somehow felt that he was meant to be born and that it was my job, as his mother, to protect him, from harm, and bring him into this world.

When Jay finally realized that we were going to have a baby, he seem to "reconcile" himself to that fact.
He came over, his mother came over. . .even Big Jay graced me with his presence. . .(yee haw).  I had a hard time with everything and everyone telling what was best for the baby, don't keep it, keep it, give it away. . . .make Jay marry you. . .he's a "good catch", everyone was relentless with their opinions.  I was so beaten down, I just packed up and went to my aunt in Arkansas.  She was the first one to tell me plain and simple. . ."a baby is a gift from God, don't slap God in the face for giving you the ability to bring life into this world".

I returned.  Jay and I worked things out.  He was over at my mothers house on Market street one night , we were listening to music and it was very late.  While lying on the floor, he layed his hand on my stomach, leaned down and kissed it.  He looked at me and said "we really are having a baby, I feel it moving inside you".  .  . I replied, yes.  He kissed me and we actually 'made love' for the very first time.  Everything, up to that point had just been sex.  Two people, in love with two other people and realizing that they were, we were. . . .going to be a family and with deep likeness between us. . . parents...

We married in Miami, Oklahoma.  I was wearing a second hand pale blue floral dress and he was in a shirt and tan pants.  We had $150.00 in the glove box, a baby on the way and the list goes on.

As I am a 10th generation southerner, and to that point, only my parents had been divorced (yet they had married each three times), I took my vows very serious.  In the old days, people with lesser feeling and sometimes unknown to one another, had married, had families, grandchildren and died together.  This is what I had planned for Jay and I.

Unfortunatly, my husband, although I cared for him immensly, had other ideas.

He thought I was a stupid, inept girl, fresh off the farm, no common sense, let alone able to decipher his most secret plans.  He was unfaithful from day one.  He even went so far as to have his friend Max, call with all these excuses, because Donna Rector, was on the end of the line.  He would go the her on the weekends and leave me, pregnant and alone, in Oklahoma with out so much as a "see ya on Sunday" .  When I asked to go with him, he would tell me no.  Why?  Because he was going to be busy helping his dad and Jake on the farm. . .  This went on for months.

While I knew what he was doing and it broke my heart because had violated every vow we made, I felt trapped....trapped in a way that at 19, I could not see anyway out of.  I was heavily pregnant, it was late in the summer.  I told him to take me with him so I could see my mother.  He finally relented.

My mother, was to say the least, not a good host.  We came home from Pizza Hut that Saturday with my little brother.  I entered the house first.  Randy was waiting behind the front door.  He grabbed my mother and covered her mouth.  I ran (as fast as I could) to the kitchen and grabbed the phone to call 911.  He threw a knife at me, aimed at my stomach, it hit me just above the baby, but between the breast bone, he ran when he saw what he had done.

Obviously, both Hayden and I survived.  Randy never meant to hurt me, so much as to hurt my mother.  He made the sad mistake thinking that my mother would have given a shit as to whether I and my son survived.  I grabbed my brother, Mike, went out the back door, hopped in the car and headed for the Fowlers. They had been so good to me and treated me like family even after the seperation with their son.  I pulled into the drive-way, dust and gravel sprying.  I dragged my brother to the door, Mary opened it, saw my shirt and took Mike by the hand.  I said to her "hide him", she did without question.

I then went to the Anderson's, where Lou took me to the hospital.  Lou told the doctors, " thats my daughter and grandchild in there, you better take good care of them . "  Lou stayed with me the entire time.

To this day, I still have the scar that almost ended not just my life, but that of the fabulous boy that came six weeks later. . .

On A Cold Winters Night. . .

Diary - Entry 29

It has occurred to me (over the last couple of days), that while I re-lived some of the more "raw emotional events", I left out a few more that helped shape my adult outcome.

While this will not be an easy read, as it comes from a place buried deep within me, I felt, under the circumstances, that it needed to be brought out of its "hidy-hole", for I am not ashamed of it in itself (because I did what I thought was best for all of us at the time) but the deep resounding pain it caused us all, the memories that are attached to it and the fact that it is very much a part of who I am, who my son Hayden is and who my ex-husband became.

When I was in 6th grade at Sheldon Elementary, I used to doodle in my notebook the name of my future husband.  I would sign my name repeatedly "Mrs. Jay Anderson".  I would draw wedding dresses, make up invitations, and even made sure that we had a big house with a mammy in it, for I had had a mammy growing up, off and on.  That was the fairy tale portion of it. 

Later on, when I got elected class president, he was my vice-president, where he went, I went.  We became good friends. I was his female confidant.  He told me things that he did not tell his other "guy" friends.  He asked my advice about girls.  We went on hay rides together, helped his parents out and just genuinely liked one another.  His parents, mostly Big Jay (who was thought of a a mover and shaker in our little town. . .if you could call it that) thought I was an ideal catch for their first born child because I came from an old southern family.  I was a 10th generation southern with family ties that went back to the Earl Of Lennox and my family (at that time) had acreage (around 4,000 acres) and money that had come from years of cotton farming. I was pretty and I had good manners.  It did not hurt matters that my mother was pretty and ran the local COOP.  

We just didn't see things as they did, for to us, we were just good buddies.

As my mothers carousing got worse and became uncontrollable, I (with the help of Tim Satterfield, whom I had been dating, because "Toy" and I were officially over. . .yeah right!) hopped a plane and went to live with my father.  It was the first time I had seen him in nearly 8 years.

I managed to get through the rest of my Junior year and my Senior year at CCHS without much fan fare, with the exception that I wore many hats scholastically.  One of my favorites was the Editor-in-Chief position I held on the school newspaper, The Thunderbird Press. . .  In addition to writing for the paper, I did its lay-out and formatted it.

I had a carry over from Sheldon as well, I had been in every school production we had in Sheldon, every choir season, and competed in both Vocal categories and instrument. . .on a statewide competition basis. 

I was most happy my Senior year and I really blossomed.  I did not date in either my Junior or Senior year, as a habit, so I was referred to as the Ice Princess. I had two wonderful male friends as well as two females.  We were an odd lot.  Some of us were gay/lesbian and some of us were straight, but we all had a truly deep friendship and we became tied together through our music, our beliefs and our teacher, who had a gift for "collecting" the most talented and highly gifted students.  They latched onto me my first day of arrival in the midst of my Junior year and we were thick as thieves, I felt a great relief and for the first time in my life, I was at peace because we all knew what each of us were, could do and what gifts we possessed.  Most of the others just looked at us as "odd", we did not care, we had formed our own family and we loved one another in a way that made each of us whole. . .and all of our wounds were healed.

I am going to fast foreword to the summer after I graduated high school, as what followed the school year is really what I began with.

My intention, had been to return to Sheldon for a visit and a visit only.  Basically to see my mother, my little brother and some friends.  I had already been accepted to ASU for the fall after receiving a very nice, although not full, scholarship from the Quill and Scroll Society at graduation, I had a clear cut path before me, I wanted to be a writer.  I was very excited.  My father had paid the balance of the first year for ASU (I think it was really my grandmother), when I had balked at attending ORU (Oral Roberts University - for which I been given a full scholarship) which was what my grandfather had demanded.  . . yeah, good luck with that one.

Anyway, the day after I arrived in Sheldon, guess who came knocking at my door?  Yep, he could not let sleeping dogs lie, even though he knew that he was engaged (and I did not), he figured we would get re-acquainted. . .one look at him, and so did I. 

Jay and I hooked back up and started running wild in the town on my "off nights" when I was not seeing "he who shall not be named" (yep, I know what you are thinking. . .I felt like a blood bond had been formed and I was forced to come whenever he called, yes I realize I am cross referencing between to entities. . .but that is the best way I can describe it). 

Poor Jay, he was constantly under his fathers thumb, he loved a girl that was so not respectable in so many ways, not to mention the years she had on him. . . and he was told not to see Donna Rector anymore, she was trash, and in my opinion, she would and always will be garbage.  I on the other hand had just been handed a blow as well.

One night, I was at "his" apartment and things were very strange.  Although we made love and it was, as usual, (intense for we had a blood/skin/every molecule connection that the years had not dampened) I had know from the images that flashed in my mind during our lovemaking that he was in turmoil followed by a somewhat bittersweet resignation.  As we lay there, he told me quietly and I will never forget it: "I am getting married this weekend". . .  Honestly, at first, I thought he was referring to him and I, then as I continued to gaze at him, I realized, he was talking about someone else.  A single tear began to roll down my cheek.  He started to tell me her name, I put my hand up, got up, got dressed and left as quickly as I could. . .crying all the way home.  I finally pulled off the road, so I could vomit.

Over and over in my head, I could hear my mother saying all those years ago, " if he loves you, he will wait"!  While I always pitied my mother, sometimes worried for her safety, I now found myself enraged and I truly, for the first time in my life hated her to my very core.

Jay and I began hanging out in my brothers tree house, in my backyard on Market street.  It was a high platform and it overlooked all the other houses and such.  Nobody could see us up there.  We would go up there at night sometimes with a blanket, whatever alcoholic beverage we could get our hands on and lay on our backs looking up at the sky.  Sometimes I would talk about "him" and sometimes Jay would talk about "her", we would get drunk and commiserate with one another. . .although during this time, our relationship had not yet turned intimate, yet, it did not take long before we started taking solace in one another.  We began the night that my soul mate married another woman and we kept our trysts to ourselves. . .well, at least I did.  Jay was never very good at keeping his mouth shut, and years later, this would be our downfall.

The Haversham State of Affairs. . .

Diary - Entry 28



Tonight (as you know I always have music on) , I am listening to Rosemary, Sammy, Frank, Tony and Andy (who is currently soothing this savage bitch with Moon River).  My son is asleep in my bed, my dog is asleep at my feet, the cats are curled up with one another and my husband is somewhere in Louisiana.

I have loved the deep south, all my life.  Much like myself (although it has always been impoverished it has always held its dignified and somewhat eccentric head high) through war, riots, high crime, drugs, gangs, corrupt government, the surge of unemployment, the rise in welfare (due to baby mamas and their animalist baby daddies) and so on.  She and always will be grand, demented and like me as well, retains a touch of "Haversham" quality to it.

I had the rare opportunity to get re-acquainted with an old friend and found out, quite by surprise, that she and I had, in some respects. . .come full circle.  It is fair to say that due to all parties concerned at this time, she shall remain without identity, for the time being.

While our conversation, took its natural path to the commonality of the past and I have freely admitted this in other entries. . .some of the doors I slammed, were slammed out of forced situations, uncontrollable circumstances and youthful inhibitions.

Somehow, with all the back peddled memories, fears, longings and regrets that we all possess, life works out the way it is meant to.  We each have a destiny.  A role to play if you will, that I feel, was pre-ordained, yet most of us stumble and fall many times over, during the journey.  While I struggle on a daily basis trying to cling to the hope that I won't land ass-up in hell, there is always that possibility. . .that the good things I have done will not have outweighed the bad.

 I, unlike some women, am willing to admit that on the outside, while I am a savvy, ball-busting bitch that calls the shots in and out of my home, the past and the relationships from it, whether they were short,long term or lifetime, each took something out or from me, that left me in a type of permanent survivor mode with pieces missing.

I am fragmented in my thoughts tonight, hence, I seem to be rambling, more than usual and I have a deep sense of foreboding, which I cannot shake.  Memoo would be so proud that my nerves can still be jangled a bit. . .

Time, The Elusive Substance Of All Things. . .

Diary - Entry 28 (I think. . .)

At this late hour, I find myself listening to Diana Krull, Etta James, Nina Simone and of all things Pink (I really have enjoyed this last cd, she has more depth, emotion. I think alot of that has to do with the break up of her marriage. . .) and sipping a glass of Chardonnay.

I seem to be somewhat mellow this evening, thinking over the last one hundred years or so. . .for that is how old I feel tonight.

When you think about all the people that have been in your life, out of your life and sometimes, have returned to it, do you ever wonder why that is?  How did you come to meet them in the first place?  Did the experience you had or have with them leave you in a better or worse place?  What would you change about the relationship you had or have with them and what could or would you leave alone about it?

I feel like "Dear Abby" sometimes. . .(perhaps I should right a column. . .I seem able to resolve everyone else's problems, except my own!)

Sometimes late at night, when everyone is asleep (and that includes the animal's!), I slip out the back door and sit in my gazebo, light candles and meditate on the past, the present and wonder what the future will bring to myself and my ever-extending familia.  Other times, at least the last few nights, as the heat has been so oppressive, I remove all my clothes and swim naked in the pool (yes, I have a fence. . .) and look at the stars in the night sky. . .wondering how many of them are loved ones that  no longer cling to their earthly shells, for that is what we are.  Shells that play host (or hostess) to one's heart, head and soul. 

Within my own shell, none of those three things ever seem to line up altogether at the same time. . .

Thanks to all of you that leave me messages, I truly appreciate that you take the time to really read my meanderings. . . T

What A Summer. . .

Diary Entry - 25


It has been a somewhat long, difficult and hot summer.  I am sure that at the end, something awaits that is bigger, better and lesser in emotional upheaval.  I am fairly certain that I have cried myself all out.

Following my mother-in-laws death in May, Ariel's bridal shower a week later then her wedding two weeks ago. . . My beautiful and multi-talented sister (in-law) passed away, at 39, a week ago after undergoing a three year battle with her cancer.  It has been a very difficult passing, hard on everyone who knew and loved her. . . .  Finally, God called her home and released her from her unending pain and suffering.  I think if my brother Victor had attended the funeral. . .he would have been lynched, as I would have been the one to throw the rope over the tree.  He had the balls to send her a get-well card back in the early summer, when she took a turn for the worse.

On the upside, I still don't have a relationship with my family. . . I have reconnected with so many of my old friends from school, on Facebook, with the latest being Angie Fowler Bruning. . .who was my best friend and cousin of "he who shall not be named". . . who, by the way, has seemingly forgotten that we are friends. . .(I hope this is unintentional!).

I am a posting my photography now on an artist website and getting great reviews, even an offer to buy some of them (who knew) and I am still writing on various subjects in different arena's.

I still feel somewhat disconnected from everything, I visit Todd's grave whenever I can, his headstone is up.  My father had carved " Son of Delores and Harry McFarland"  how very generous of him, especially when you consider that he spends my inheritance on his mistress. . .

I am fairly certain the while my family is completely delusional, fucked up and possess less than stellar morals. . .we must not be the only ones. . . .????

I am going to post more later tonight, as I have much to say. . . it is so much easier to write when you are relaxed, sipping wine and soaking in a jacuzzi. . . till later, my little chicken's. . .

2 In One Night. . . .Are you not lucky????????

Dear Readers - Entry 24 1/2 (the other half of the previous entry)


While we have moved into our new house,  I got lucky enough to find some of my brothers art work, cards, letters, etc.  I plan to matte and frame them to hang on the walls.  I miss him.  Everywhere I turn he is all around me.  In baby photos he looks like my son, which is difficult at times.  It seems impossible that he has been gone 7 months.

I think, as a grown woman, although my heart will always be devided... . . . . .between the  two most important souls that have passed through my life to date,  I shall never be able to replace the three most important men in my life. . . my brother Todd, whom I shared a birthday with,  my first and forever love "Toy", and my gracious, kind, and most romantic husband. .  . . .;

Diary Entry - Is It 24?

Dear Readers,




Many things have changed since my last entry.  My mother in law has passed away, my step daughters wedding is 4 weeks away, my 10 year old son thinks he wants to work for the  C.I.A. as an assassin (go figure), my husband thinks that. . . .well, only I can decipher that from day to day. . .

We have moved to a new house - one floor, rather than 3,why?  Frankly, I cannot stand the upkeep.  I think housekleening is an enourmous waste of time, it just gets duty again!  And I hate repetative routines.

While my sister in law languishes in Oklahoma, suffering from another bout of cancer, my sleezy, asshole brother continues on with what he considers a life. . . . .

Odd, that out of nearly 15 years together, her supporting him through all of his aeronautical degress that he deserts her and now, he is back in Wynne, Arkansas. . .
working at Walmart.  . .  Isn't Karma great!

I have one true question for any of you that are brave enough to answer:

Be Truthful::::::::These Are Confidental!

Is a soul that has been divided from its true mate.. .ever really whole?  I ask you this because life and love is different for all of us.  And is the love you have at this moment, all that you hoped it would be. . .

You all know who you are. . . .late at night, when you have a drink while listening to you favorite music and your mind wonders to a time that had you moved with it, you would be a different person, with a different life. . . .

The Absolute and Irrevocable

Diary - Entry 23


It has been sometime since I wrote because of my workload and visitors. This is the first entry of the new year and I hope that it will be a better one.

When you are young and your life stretches before you, there are many paths that you can take. My own particular path was neither easy or without the mental and physical anguish I felt at being seperated from
"Toy", but my brother as well. 

I tried 'dating' others, but my head, heart and soul were never present.  I was numb and just didn't care what my mother threw at me.  I felt as if I were slowly going insane. I would call Todd and I would cry on his shoulder.  He would just listen. 

Todd told me something once, that I have never forgotten. . .he said,
"real love, when it ends, is like being caught up in an Auger where your limbs are torn from you body, followed by the continued shredding of a Combine (I think I spelt that wrong) over a wheat field at harvest".
That was exactly the way I felt and the fact that my over sensative brother had put my feelings into a 'visual' nature, helped me realize that there was nothing that could be done, except to burn the field and get ready for next years crop.

In many ways, the movie 'Splendor In The Grass' reminds me of that time.  Bud and Deeny, with everything and everyone conspiring against them.  Denny ends up in a mental hospital and Bud is married to Angie living on a dirt farm.  I soon went to my fathers, where I finished the remaining time in high school.  I needed a break and I had to get away from my mother.  Her continued intrusions, made things difficult at best.

My father sent me a plane ticket and while I got ready for "school" and my mother for work, I had packed throughout the night and was ready to leave.  She did not know that I was gone until nearly 8pm that night,
and livid is a mild word for her conversation, when she called my father.  It was over and done with, I had made my choice and now, I would start taking care of my brother again, with the addition of my father as I ran the house.

All my life, I have always taken care of something or someone.  I did not know how to just take care of myself and there was nobody to guide me.  Nearly two years would pass before I would return to my mothers house and the intensity of seeing him again, sitting on my sofa. . .did not help with my attempt at recovery, for he was and always would be a powerful addiction for me. One that neither time, space or
distance had changed what my heart held most dear.  We were two halves of the same whole and it would never be the same.