Fuck Off, Troll!

Ok, it seems I have acquired a troll. I know who it is, but I refuse to give the ass any more attention and I certainly won't give him any traffic by mentioning the asses name. I am just going to say a couple of things to the ugly fucker; first of all, FUCK OFF! Second of all, you can keep putting your asshole comments here all you want, and I will keep deleting them. You will not exist in my world. If I had a way to keep you away from my blog altogether, I would. But, I don't, so this will have to do. And oh yeah, FUCK OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I want to apologize to everyone else. I will get back to regular posts soon!

Isn't it Ironic?

When I was in school, I was always kind of the oddball out. I fit in everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. Part of that was my budding, but duly repressed sexuality. I never dated. I kind of half-heartedly tried to get laid a couple of times. I just could never go through with it. So, resigned myself to going to the occasional dance with guys that were friends only. You might think the problem was that I found myself attracted to girls. But, no, you would be wrong. My repression was so successful, that I was not attracted to girls OR guys.

High school was a very confusing time for me. You know how it is. All those cliques. Again, I fit in them all, and none of them all at the same time. And my journey through high school was very interesting because of it. If I had continued on the path I started in my freshman year, I would probably be in jail right now. I spent most of the year in in-house detention, spent a good portion of the year drunk or high or both, and ended the year with a 1.9 GPA.

My sophomore year began much the same way, until I pulled my head out of my ass, took a deep breath, and realized I was ruining my life. So, I quit the weed, I limited any drinking to weekends only, and started to really knuckle down. I took extra classes and really kept my nose to the grindstone, and between the rest of that year and my junior year, which I spent much the same way, I got caught up with credits and such, and could relax a little bit.

I also decided that senior year was going to be MY year. I got involved in all kinds of things. Being a fairly shy person in new settings, I surprised myself by entering the talent show; by myself. (Most everybody else was in pairs or groups.) I easily could have made a fool of myself, but I didn't care. As it turns out, I didn't win the contest, but I did win some popularity and acclaim for being "brave". I also tried out for, and made the big musical. No, my parts weren't huge, because I was also playing in the band. (yes, I was a band geek.) But, again, I had a blast!

The other thing I had decided I was going to do was "be normal" and go to my senior prom if it killed me. There were several obstacles to this, but for this story, I am going to focus on only one. The first hurdle; having someone to go with.

I knew I was not going to be asked. So, that left me with doing the asking. I knew I didn't want to be rejected, so I decided to ask a guy I was friends with in the band, and that I had known for a long time. Since grade school, really. He was a freshman. So, my chances were good that he would say yes, as it was quite the status symbol to be going to the senior prom as a freshman, even if I WAS fat and not exactly pretty.

So, I endeavored to ask him. His name was John Stewart. One day, in the middle of the biggest hall there, I saw him, and went to where he was. I was terribly nervous. We kind of chit-chatted for a little while and then I started hemming and hawing;

Me: Well, (ahem) there was something I wanted to ask you, John.

John: Ok, go ahead.

Me: Well, you know how I am a senior, right?

John: Duh! And I am freshman, so what?

Me: Well, (ahem) (cough cough) the senior prom is only a couple of months away now, and uh (choke) (ahem) (cough cough) I was wondering if you would be interested in going with me, just as friends, of course. (By now, my face was CRIMSON! And I really wanted to die!)

John: (With a really, really strange look on his face) Well, I truly didn't expect that.

Me: (Melting into an embarrassed, quivering, pile of nerves.) Um, (ahem) yeah, well, I understand, I'm just going to go die now! ( I start to slink away)

John: NO WAIT! You just took me off guard a little bit, that's all. Yes, I would LOVE to go to the senior prom with you. (By the way, he knew how badly I wanted to go and just be "normal" for once) I do have one condition, though. (And here, he got the most mischievous grin on his face.)

Me: Ok, what is it?

John: (Looking like a pure devil) You have to promise me one thing.

Me: (Looking truly terrified) Okkkkkkk.........

John: (I swear devil horns came out of his head at this point) You have to promise to NEVER! EVER! EVER! WHITEWASH ME AGAIN!

Me: (Completely confused and bewildered, staring at him with my mouth wide open, realization dawning in my clouded brain of forgotten times.) OH......MY......GOD!!!!!! I had completely forgotten!!!!

John: (Smugly) I didn't, and I have been waiting for the perfect time to needle you with it, and finally it presented itself.

Me: (Thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated, and sounding very sheepish) John, I am so sorry. Of course, I will never whitewash you again. (Hanging my head)

John: (Laughing his head off now) I knew you had forgotten! (Hugs me spontaneously) Don't feel too bad. We were just kids who did stupid things all the time, that later we tend to regret, but let me tell you, the look on your face was worth every red mark on my face from that snow! So, since I have your promise, yes, I would be more than honoured to go to the prom with you.

Pushing Through the Muck

Per Kim's request, and before Scott bursts a bloodvessel in his head, I am going to attempt a post. Like I said to Kim in my comments on the last post, there is so much going on, and such, that everytime I try to post, I just get totally overwhelmed, so I am going to try to stick to just one or two topics for now, and see if I can get something written that way.

One of the reasons I have been incommunicado is because getting used to Kat's new job and hours has been quite the strain for both of us. Trying to keep things in order for her, and taking care of her has taken up a good amount of time.

Another one of the reasons that I have been incommunicado is because of my health status. Around the first of Sept, I was diagnosed with having fibroid tumors in my uterus, and told that most likely, since my symptoms are disruptive and such, that I will probably require a hysterectomy.

I am 36 years old. Does this bother me? No, not particularly. At least not on the front you might expect. I have never wanted children. I have a lot of reasons for that, which I am sure I will be writing about soon, since everything seems to be overlapping for the time being. So, I am really not going to mind losing my useless baby factory parts. I am REALLY not going to mind losing the awful monthly rituals, either.

BUT!!!!!! And this is one huge but. I really do not relish the thought of ANY kind of surgery. See, I have this HUGE fear of death. It is so hard to write about this, because it goes so deep. Anyway, fear of death. Yeah. When I was a deeply religious Christian, and had blind faith, I had no fear of death. There was NO question in my mind that there was an afterlife, and that I would be spending it in "heaven". Whatever the fuck that was!

Well, when I FINALLY came out of the closet, (in the middle of Bible College, mind you) I ended up losing my faith. That was 8 years ago. I still can't find it. I struggle. I search. But, I know I can never return to the way I was before. I can never have blind faith again. I just can't do it. I need proof. Starting to see my dillemma?

People that can have blind faith do not fear death. People who have had those awesome near death experiences do not fear death. People who have seen and/or interacted with ghosts/spirits do not fear death. I, however, do. Why? Because I cannot have blind faith, and because I have never experienced the other two. Not that I necessarily want a NDE. I wouldn't mind seeing a ghost or spirit, though. But, see I have nothing to base any faith in an afterlife on.

And then I start pondering the different forms the afterlife could take. First, if there isn't an afterlife at all, then what? Non-existence? And, as stupid as this sounds, the thought of being non-existant terrifies me. Then, I think what about the heaven and hell thing? HOW THE HELL DO WE REALLY KNOW WHICH IS THE RIGHT WAY??? And believe me, being gay, that is an extremely valid question. And don't tell me the answer lies in the Bible. I cannot have blind faith in the Bible either, because it has been translated by HUMANS!!!!

And then I think about reincarnation, which used to calm me some, until I realized, if there IS such a thing as reincarnation, I do not remember a single thing about any past life, or what sort of person I was, or any lessons I may have already learned. I do have feelings of familiarity, which makes me think maybe there is truth in the idea of reincarnation. But, if we don't remember anything from life to life, then WHAT IS THE POINT???? It is the same as non-existance then.

And then, my mind just keeps spinning and spinning right back to the thought of what if I don't wake up from the anesthesia this time? I am in much poorer health now than I was for my only other surgery. Will my heart give out? Will that be it for me? I am too young. I am not ready.

So, that's a little piece of what I have been dealing with. I will try to post more. (Did you hear that Scott?) I realize I have got to get all this shit out of my head. It is driving me insane. There is a ton more where this came from. I also have some funny stories to tell, so maybe I will weave those in between these deep dark posts. *sigh* I make myself very tired.

Update on Jordan

Well, folks, it worked. Jordan is home. You can read about it here. The one thing she doesn't put in there though, that she told me about in an email is that the reason the mom turned herself in is because she saw something about this on the computer, and then saw herself on TV. So, the massive saturation of this story flushed her out! YAY!

Oh, and by the way, if you sent out email alerts or posted on your blog, please update, as we really wouldn't want to see this on Snopes.com in 5 years or so! LOL (I stole that funny from Kim's email!) Thanks so much all!

Please Help!

Ok, I know it has been forever and a day since I posted and probably noone even comes here to look anymore, but just in case, I do have a post of sorts today. It is actually a post from Kim's blog. I feel it is important to plaster this everywhere, so here I go. I promise I will post again in the very near future, letting you know what has been happening in my life. If you can help with this in any way, please do.

God Help Us

I have a very serious post.

This is Jordan. He is 6 years old. He is missing. He is our child.

Please click HERE to see the picture of Jordan.

Jordan is a child in my family. He was abducted Tuesday evening by his mother. I know that sounds strange but allow me to explain.

My ex husband fathered this child. He was not aware of his existence until the boy was a year old. The mother, Nancy, approached our family with the news claiming she just wanted him to know about it and to give him the opportunity to get to know all of us.

Shortly after we met Jordan, we began to notice things that didn't make sense. Marks on the child's body, bruises in strange places, odd behavior. Once Jordan was able to talk, we learned that he had been suffering unspeakable abuse at the hands of his mother.

Physical abuse. Psychological abuse. Sexual abuse.

Told to us by this child in his own words.

My ex and my family began a legal battle that has been going on in the court system for more than 3 years. The courts had allowed us emergency custody of Jordan and his mother had been kept away from him because there was evidence that she has serious mental health issues and is a danger to herself and others. Jordan has undergone intense psychological therapy to correct the wrongs that were perpetrated against him and his life had just begun to take on a more normal existence.

Then the court system decided that it would be a good idea for the mother to have strictly supervised visitation with Jordan 4 hours a week.

During her last visit, Tuesday night, she took the child and ran. We have not been able to find her since.

The FBI is searching. The police are searching. We are searching.

Yet Jordan still remains unfound.

Please look at this picture. Please read the information I'm about to tell you about him. Please ask your friends and family to learn the same. Contact your local police department if you have any information.

Jordan Rolfe (birth name) or Jordan Barry (name he chooses to use, our name)
Born: March 10, 1999

Height: 4 feet

Weight: 50 pounds

Hair : Dark Brown, straight, medium-short length

Marks: Scar on middle back, rash (exzema) on right arm and wrist, wart on right thumb.

Last seen wearing a grey shirt with a navy blue collar and blue shorts with orange flames on the sides.

Taken from the city of Strongsville, Ohio. Last seen in Lakewood, Ohio on Clifton Blvd. 9-28-05 at 10:00 a.m. We suspect that she will be trying to make her way either towards Mexico, or Florida.

Nancy Rolfe may be driving a White Chevy conversion van with light blue or green pin stripes. She may also be with a friend who drives a white Honda with black trim. Nancy may be going by the name "Flora" and may have altered her appearance to look like an older woman. Nancy is in her 40's, thin, dark hair and approx. 5'6" tall.


Jordan is at risk. He is in danger. We cannot get an Amber Alert issued because there is a custody case before the court, even though the judge, two different psychologists and a Guardian Ad Litum have all demanded that one be issued. There are cracks in the system, please help us to fill them and get the word out.

Please help. He calls me Grandma.

Whitewash!

Ok, so I thought I would take a little break from all the seriousness and share a little funny story from my past.

A few things I need to tell you before I tell the story. I have one sibling; a sister, younger. I was unusually devoted and manipulated by said sibling. I was always very large and strong for my age. I could sometimes be a bit of a bully, especially when coerced to be by my sister. She would tell you I was a terrible bully to her, but I would tell you, it was in defense as if we started arguing she would come after me with knives or loaded guns!

Anyway, in the summer of 1979, we moved from the house we had been in since I was around 5 to a new house all the way across town. We lived right across the street from the big park that had our new school at the end of it.

Well, we started our new school in the fall, both of us VERY unhappy to be in a new school, and my sister took an instant disliking, for whatever reason, to this one certain family, who had like TONS (5) of kids who went to this school. 1 girl and 4 boys, if I remember right. Their last name was Stewart. And my sister DESPISED them! I don't think I even know why for sure to this day.

So, fast forward to winter, probably Jan. or Feb. There is tons of snow on the ground. And is it ever COLD! So, my sister and I are playing in the house, and she happens to look outside, to the park across the street, and she notices 2 people walking across the park through the snow. All of a sudden, she says, "Hey! That's some of the Stewarts'! GO GET EM'!" And did I even stop to question WHY I was doing this? Nope! Hell, I didn't even stop to put on a coat or shoes! So, I go busting out of the house in short sleeves and stocking feet, and bulldoze my way through the snow, cross the street, and make a beeline for these 2 people. I notice right away that one is the youngest Stewart, a boy and the other is one of the middle boys. So, I decide to go for the bigger one first, and tackle him, and whitewashed him soundly! Now, just in case not everyone reading this knows, whitewashing consists of tackling someone to the ground, getting them face down, and rubbing their face mercilessly in the snow. Just as I was finishing off the bigger boys' whitewashing, here comes my sister, who had had the brains to put on a coat and boots, and she proceeded to tackle and whitewash the younger one!

So, we walked away, all proud of ourselves, and went back to our house. If I remember right, I don't think I ever saw any of the Stewarts cross the park in front of our house again!

Comment Whore No More

In a post a few days ago, I said I was a comment whore. It's true. I am. Rather, I was. I have been cured. So very cured. I had an incident over the weekend that got me really thinking about comments. Not just comments on my blog, but really, any comments anytime. I can no longer allow myself and my self esteem to be overly bolstered by supportive comments from friends and family and the like; UNLESS I have managed to tell them the absolute, no holds barred truth of any given story or event. If I have not revealed ALL the details, even the ones that portray me in a not-so-pleasant light, then the people who are making the comments cannot possibly be objective, which in turn, makes their comments extremely subjective.

Maybe this is elementary for some people, but for me, it is a revelation. Over this last weekend, I watched a situation get WAY out of control simply because one of the participants while relating the original incident on her blog, was not completely forthright. No, she didn't outright lie, as I first surmised in my anger, but she didn't tell the whole truth, at first. But then, even when she did, people are STILL almost midweek jumping on the bandwagon and badmouthing other participants in the original incident. It is like they cannot hear her correction for being outraged at the original post. And the most ridiculous part of it, is that they are all so self-righteous and she is being bolstered by their support, and their attacks on the other participants, that not one of them can see how far off base they are. It is really rather sad. Being all indignant and they don't even have the story right.

So, if it makes any sense, that is why, unless I can tell the WHOLE story of an incident, and really, we are probably only talking about the hard things and problems that come up, then I can't really allow myself to be emboldened by other people's comments, because unless they the know the whole story, preferably from both points of view, any uplifting I derive from those comments has a false foundation and therefore, will fall, eventually.

So, it is now becoming my goal, along with all the other changing I am trying to accomplish in my life, to try to achieve a deeper honesty and integrity, so that I can enjoy a firm foundation of support from the people who love me and care about me.