Friends

Friends are special and important for everyone.
Sometimes you need a shoulder to cry on.
Sometimes you need someone to simply listen.
Sometimes you need to laugh.
Sometimes you need to be destracted.
Sometimes you need to do the listening.
Sometimes you need to watch a movie.
Sometimes you need to have fabulous homecooked food.
Sometimes you need a "poke" in the right direction.
Sometimes you need a warm body to fall asleep on.
Sometimes you need a friend.

There are many fabulous people in my life that are so important and special to me and I need them more than sometimes. I hope that everyone can have good friends in their life to lift them when their down and to be lifted. It's a two way street.

Today was be a friend day and it looks like the memo got out. =)

Death of a dormouse

MARTHA:

When I was a young girl, I had a pet. Not many young girls had pets of their own. There’d be family pets or pets that belonged to one of the parents. Boys would have pets. Albeit most mothers didn’t know half the pets their boys would keep in the house. Rats from under the floorboards, bugs out of the garden, frogs from a scum filled creek or marsh, snakes and even flies. Boys could have pets, but girls? Girls were pretty. They played with dolls and had tea parties. If they had a pet it would be a Poodle, Pomeranian or maybe a fluffy Persian cat. Not me. I got me a dormouse. My parents didn’t mind or at least my mother didn’t. She said it was good to broaden my horizons and try new things. A pet was an important responsibility that would teach me life lessons or something like that. I agreed with everything she said, anything to get me a pet. I named her Daisy, because that’s how she smelled. She was a beautiful flower of a mouse, with deep, beady black eyes. She was smart too. We did everything together. I would color or do my homework and Daisy would scamper back and forth watching me. She would follow the pencil with her nose, almost catlike. She helped me play the piano, even though she didn’t weigh enough to push down any of the keys. I’d even take her for walks in my jacket pocket. She loved being in my pocket. We could go in the kitchen, out to the market or even school and nobody would know she was there. My step-daddy never liked her though, I could tell. He never said anything, never yelled or nothin’. Sometimes he would even smile when Daisy’d do some neat trick or scamper up my arm. I didn’t know it then, but it was all an act. Secretly he’d been plotting a way to rid himself of my dormouse. Then one day momma found rat droppings near the flour. Well my Step-daddy ddin’t want no rodents getting’ into our food so he ran to the garage. When he came back, he was holdin’ some type of poison. Momma told him not to spray it out, but he didn’t listen. We had to leave the house for nearly the WHOLE day. I tried to find Daisy but my step-daddy’d already sprayed the house and we had to go NOW. Momma dragged me out kicken’ and screamen’, but she hauled me out anyways. That was when I heard the squeak. Daisy ran cross the living room to the door I was standing at and I picked her up right before Momma grabbed my elbow and yanked me out of the house. I didn’t notice until a few days later that Daisy was acting real strange. She wasn’t as fast or smart as she used to be. She’d even leave messes all over the place for me to clean up. You know, the type of messes people don’t like to talk about, the messes people make in the bathroom. Anyways, three days later she was dead. I yelled at my step-father, calling him every name I could think of. “Murderer!” I’d shout anytime I saw him. For weeks I followed him around, “You killed my mouse. You did it on purpose. You’re a filthy murderer.” Since that day, I cannot think of death, without thinking of that nasty guilt I shot at my step-father.

****************************************************************************

“Deaths dark door creaked daintily open in gradual progression. Defenses were down dispensing the desired response. She screamed. She cried. Nothing could deter the dauntingly despicable dread deaths daring entrance had deliberately caused. Distractedly she drew a breath dispersing dreadful thoughts. Daisy, her delicate delightful pet dormouse, died that day of a definitely deliberate predicament. Her despotic but daft stepfather had delivered deadly poison deceitfully delighting in dispatching destruction. Depression drowned her distracted mind dispatching disgust, distress and dreadful doubt. Despite diplomatic diligence designed to dispel despair, his exhausted declarations landed on deaf, disappointed ears. His decadent decorum was driving her daunting mind delirious. Despair caused debatable decision, from distinguished distress, to demonstrate deliberate disapproval of his devilish deed.”

The incredible whining dog strikes again

So, today is another personal experience to do with the dog, "Tiny", that I am watching. This, now white, dog, which of course needs another bath, is now causing more trouble. This can be expected from a poodle the size of a football. Small dogs just love yapping and being trouble. Although, as mentioned before, this dog does not yap. He whines.

Periodically I take this "adorable" [roll eyes] little pup to see his "mommy". (By pup, I mean a dog that is now about 16 years of age but still leaps around like a little puppy.) Well the first couple times he was real good and gave his "mommy" kisses and cuddled with her. Then came the fateful time that I dropped him off to visit while I ran errands. When I came to pick him up, he was more excited to see me and couldn't wait to get out the door. His "mom" didn't seem to notice that he wasn't even coming to say goodbye to her. I quickly picked him up and put him on her lap, before she could notice that he was only staring at me and waiting to leave.

A couple days later I took him back to see her. Secretly I was hoping that the last time was a fluke. Nope. This time was worse. When I came to pick him up his "mom" said that all he did was stare at the door and whine for me to come back, instead of visiting with her. WHAT?!?!

I already knew that he was more attached to me than anyone else watching him or here at the house. I knew that. But....she was his "mom" and he had spent most of his life with her...and...and...

I resolved that this would have to stop. I decided to give him less attention and keep my house more like a kennel. Already he is hooked up on a leash when inside the house. I take him out regularly to do his business and feed him in the morning. He doesn't even sleep with me or in my room. He sleeps with my grandma. I did everything I could to create a more business relationship, instead of being a surrogate mom.

Then a few days later, I took him back to see his "mom". When I came to pick him up...

It was the same thing. It doesn't matter what I do. Whether I try or don't try he has decided to attach himself to me. Grammy feeds him treats and gives him more attention and is there all the time. You'd think that would matter, but to Tiny, it doesn't. So, like it or not, the incredible whining dog now thinks he is MY incredible whining dog. Apparently that won’t change until he is able to go home for good. After a few days of being with his mother and not seeing me, which he won’t unless she needs a dog sitter for a day or so sometime in the not so near future, he will be reaclimated to his house and his "mother".

I sure hope so...

Time to get with the program

Soooooooooo.........I'm still fine tuning the details right now but I'm thinking of structuring my blog a little more.  So far it's been 5 days and I've posted a blog a day and so far I have posted 70 blogs since setting this up.  I'll be it they haven't all been substantial in content, but that will come with time.  Or it wont.  We shall see.

To add more structure to my blog I was thinking of having certain days set aside for a specific topic.  Now this is subject to change, but I would like to have a day set aside for short stories.  ~gasp~  I know, I know.  This is uncharted territory for me, but seeing as I am taking a literature class....well....I just got the inspiration while sitting in class.  Actually, I've got a whole wash of inspiration today it nearly knocked my socks off and sent my soul to fly around the world.  That type of thing used to be a daily, hourly, occurrence and then left.  Well now it's back and in full force. 

So I figured a weekend would be good for stories so I'm going to try Saturday.  Lets see how long this lasts.  Short Story Saturday, has a nice ring to it.  So be prepared to be dazzled with a poorly written but outstanding short story.

I'm also thinking of Cool Fact Monday to start the week off with some piece of useless but interesting information.  There will still be a couple days a week for personal stuff that nobody cares about, like the dog I'm watching, how life is going or something like that.  If I'm on the band wagon with my old stuff I may even set aside a day to post poetry, songs, stories or other things that I had written a long long time ago in a class room far away, or playground or maybe even a park.

So there it is, the one thing you can be sure about is that you can look forward to a story on Saturday and a random fact on Monday.  All the other days, random for now.

Bad Poetry

Last night was a full night of half asleep, bad poetry.  I thought about and even planned on posting some here just for the sake of posting.  Then I realized just how much work this poetry needed just to even be a little comprehending.  I have about 10 pages of hand written crap all over my notebook.  I'm organizing to some degree.  I'm only partially cleaning up and then should be hopefully adding the poems to this blog at a later date.  Even so, it will still remain bad poetry, but it is still poetry.  I haven't written a poem since middle school. 

Interesting enough, after middle school, all I could write was songs.  Poems didn't flow for me, even though the songs could be read as poems.  Then, around 2004 or 2005 I lost my regular song inspiration and haven't felt it since.  Since then, I have been writing chapters to my books but then about a year ago I stopped even doing that.

Now, I have a goal to write a blog a day.  Apperantly my inspiration for poetry has returned, we shall see if the others return as well.

Fifty plus jobs

Now it's over 60 jobs and counting.  Such is the state of our economy.  I was going to say "I've applied for over 100 jobs..." but that would be an exaggeration.  Now after applying to over 60 jobs I have now had a job interview.  In a few days I'll find out if I am still looking or if I've got something.

I have since learned that Job fairs are teeming with people.  There was an "open application" time slot for applebee's in Napa and over 50 people showed up to apply and interview.  This is a harsh world we are living in and it is only getting more so. 

Any employer putting up a "now hiring" sign not only gets a pick of the litter, but they get responses within seconds.  The competition is now in those applying for jobs.  No longer to bosses have to worry about hiring the wrong person, there are hundreds waiting with applications and resume's already turned in.  There are lots of people struggling out there and my heart goes to them. 

The incredible Whining Dog

At times I will clean peoples houses, watch their kids and sometimes even care for their pets.  This is not really a financial venture, seeing as the people can't really afford more than a token payment for thanks.  But, it is enough when I am already doing nothing for the day.  Not to mention, helping people always gives me a good feeling, for some strange reason.

Well this is the tale of Tiny, a small poodle that I am caring for until his owner is able to do so.

When I received the dog he was a brown color with tufts of gray.  After I had him a week I bought some dog shampoo and gave him a bath.  now he is nearly all white.

The incredible thing about this dog is not the fact that he whines.  It's not because that whine is so high pitched it hurts the ears.  Or, the fact that his bark is just as high, causing you to want to cringe and escape the sound.  It is the fact that he doesn't stop.  He can do it all day and all night.  It doesn't matter.  He never gets tired.  Actually I saw him laying down, resting, and still whinning.

Of course he only whines when I am not there.  The problem is that I do need sleep, work and other things.  I can't just sit with him 24/7.  So, for the time being, I get to spend my days with the incredible whining dog.

He is a sweetheart, lovable, soft (after the bath), doesn't effect my allergies and such.  I can be patient with him, it's not his fault he's spoiled...!  I also take him for car rides which he really enjoys.

In Memory of Mr. Bell

MSNBC Article Mon., Jan. 18, 2010: 

Taco Bell founder dies at age 86

Glen W. Bell launched Taco Bell in 1962 in Los Angeles area

Glen W. Bell, Jr.

 

 

RANCHO SANTA FE, Calif. - Glen W. Bell Jr., an entrepreneur best known as the founder of the Taco Bell chain, has died. He was 86.

Bell died Sunday at his home in Rancho Santa Fe, according to a statement posted Monday on the Taco Bell Web site.

The Irvine-based company did not release a cause of death.

"Glen Bell was a visionary and innovator in the restaurant industry, as well as a dedicated family man," Greg Creed, president of Taco Bell, said in the statement.

Bell launched his first restaurant, called Bell's Drive-In, in 1948 in San Bernardino after seeing the success of McDonald's. His restaurant sought to take advantage of Southern California's car culture by serving hamburgers and hot dogs through drive-in windows.

The World War II veteran next helped establish Taco Tias in Los Angeles, El Tacos in the Long Beach area, and Der Wienerschnitzel, a national hot dog chain.

Bell launched Taco Bell in 1962 in Downey after cutting ties with his business partners and quickly expanding around Los Angeles.

He sold the first Taco Bell franchise in 1964. In 1978, Bell sold his 868 Taco Bell restaurants to PepsiCo for $125 million in stock.

Taco Bell is now owned by Yum! Brands and is the largest Mexican fast-food chain in the nation, serving more than 36.8 million consumers each week in more than 5,600 U.S. locations.

Bell is survived by his wife, Martha, three sisters, two sons, a daughter and four grandchildren.

A private funeral is planned.

[I posted this late but I still wanted to have a little something for the guy who created Taco Bell]

Fun on the road

This blog is in reminder of all the interesting things, crazy drivers and what not that is found on the road.  In a matter of a couple days I had enough experiences to fill many blogs, these are the highlights. 

First to start off on a good note I ran into two friendly cops on the same day.  One stopped to let me in when traffic was crazy.  At first I thought it was an alterior motive to more easily pull me over for something.  but it wasn't.  he smiled and waved later on when he passed me in the fast lane.  Then a different cop smiled and waved as I was getting out of my car in front of my house, it was the cop who had taken the report on my broken window a while back.  Then a day later I was out with my Grammy and she had me pull over next to a cop so she could tell him, "Thank you for what you do."  His mouth dropped open in shock and he didn't know what to say.

Of course there are the stupid or crazy drivers.  A truck decided to make a left turn across on coming traffic when the oncoming traffic was frighfully close.  As he moved I thought for sure he would get T-boned right in front of me.  It was close, a foot away from being hit by one car and an inch away from being hit by another car.  Stupid truck, a little patience and it wouldn't have been a life or death experience. 

Thoughts behind the reasoning of an agressive driver:  Once the driver takes their emotion to the next level, the adrenalin rush is too much.  They simply get worse.  Like a driver fighting like crazy to pass and get in front of another car, only to end up tailing a different car even though they have no intention of passing this second car.  They just ride the bumper.

How about a car that is getting off in the same spot where I am merging in.  It just comes over right next to me so I either get in an accident or slam my breaks.  After slamming my brakes there is no speed left to merge safely.  Having to wait for traffic to clear to merge.

Then there are the simple idiot drivers.  Not really hurting anything but doing things like this.  A truck that turns on it's left blinker so it can get over into the right lane, Across white solid lines as well.

And of course, I can't forget those really hungry individuals that just can't wait.  This car speeds up to get in front of me.  Weaves in and out of traffic, simply to make it to the Burger King drive thru 30 seconds faster than he would have.  Now that's what I call hungry.

In closing, I did find it interesting that in two days I saw both a Rhode Island liscence plate and a Florida.  (there were plenty of California, a few Oregon, some Utah and Arizona; but I see those all the time.)

It's Gavin!!!!!!!!

My sister, Crystal, just had her baby.  A healthy 8lb baby boy named Gavin Mark Vanzeveren.  He has a full head of blond hair.  Crystal is doing well and on the mend and will be returning home in a few days.  I can't wait to come and visit her.  I love her so much!!!!!!

I've forgotten how to fly

This is a post that I have been meaning to publish for (nearly two years? a year and a half? little over a year?) a really long time.  I have noticed that for me a really long time can be anywhere from a week to ten or more years back but it all feels like a really long time to me.  Go figure:

There are lots of things I have forgotten and not all of it is bad.  Actually the forgetting has made life a little different but because of the forgetting I can't remmeber how different.  Unless, I look at my journal entries.  Sometimes when I read my journal I wonder, "what was I thinking?" "How could I have believed that?" "Was I crazy?" "am I still crazy now?" "what is the truth and what is fiction?"

One of the things I had forgotten is how to fly.  I knew that feeling so well that I could feel the muscles on my back where wings could/should be.  I could close my eyes and feel the wind in my hair, feel my body floating, soaring, diving and flying.  I could feel the change in atmosphere as I tried to breath.  It was such a detailed vision I felt as if I had been able to fly in a previous life.  (of course the crazy part was that in that previous life I was a dragon but I'm not going to dwell too much on that part.)

Flying was second nature.  It was in my dreams.  It was in my daydreams.  It was one of my regular thoughts.  Then I gave all of that up for nearly two years.  I let it go.  I used my self control to stop the daydreams, stop the stories and stop the previous belief systems I held.  There are, I think, two times I faltered.  The first time I wrote down the ideas and story that came to my mind, sealed it up and locked it away.  I can't remember what I did the second time, but for the most part I did good. 

Coming home, I fell back into my dreams.  A part of me felt like I needed to let go but I didn't.  I couldn't.  This was my life, what would I be without my dreams?  Then a while ago (couple years? year?) I started seeking help.  I found people to talk to and they found different answers for me, that didn't really work.  I can't remember when it happend but I think it was pretty abrupt.  I think, one day, I simply woke up and had forgotten how to fly.  That was the first step.  I wrote many journal entries.  I tried to remember.  I tried to enter a world that I had created, but it didn't work.  I couldn't find the stories any more.

In reality, the stories were still there.  I still know the mechanics, the characters etc...but the reality is gone.  A part of me feels like I have fallen and shattered into a million pieces, the good thing is that the pieces are still all there.  Now I sit here and piece by piece, put the puzzle back together.  I'm glad I like puzzles so much.  So it all started with forgetting one thing, one very important part and that was 'how to fly'.  But that is the beginning of a new world and the chance to become a better person.

(now if I can just fulfill my goal and try to publish these darn stories lol)

New Year

So many people have made resolutions for the new year.  I have never done this, to my knowledge.  I have always lived in the moment and never really planned for the future.  Some of that can be blamed on a chemical imbalance, some can be blamed on laziness and some can be blamed on bad luck.

I have been unstable for too many years and I have hated myself for that time.  I have imperfections that affect others and when they point them out I hate myself even more.  This is a pattern I have followed and when someone hates who they are they don't have the willpower to change.  So I stayed in this cycle of self loathing until I broke, snapped right in two.  I left everything I had been holding on to behind and decided to leave and go a completely different direction.  This to would have been self destructive if I hadn't met someone who gave me a reason to change, who made me feel like maybe I had a small piece of worth that was worth saving.  I feel like this person has stabilized me to some extent but still I have trouble making up my mind and going all "skitzo".  One day it's ok and the next I'm opposite.

For the new year I would like:
*to have a part time job (to achieve this I have been applying to at least one job every day)
*to find out where I stand religiously (to achieve this I am going to church, praying and reading scriptures)
*to clear out my debts (I have already made a plan and a part time job would clear all my debts in a year)
*to enter all my handwritten stories into my computer.

So, even though resolutions are selfish and all about me, I know that nothing will change unless a plan is made, goals are set up and daily goals are followed.