A Buddhist's Hell

Down near my town’s sorry excuse for a rec center, we have a paved walking/biking path. It’s approximately .6 miles long. It’s nothing impressive, but it’s great for folks with young kids who need a nice place to walk. And a lot of us with dogs use it. There’s a field along side part of the path. And, as I said, it leads to the rec center where there are soccer fields, ball fields, a skating rink in the winter, and a swimming hole. On really hot days, I walk Colyn down there and let him swim. It’s better than just driving to the river, but it’s not such a long walk that it kills either of us.

I’m pretty sure that this walking trail would be a Buddhist’s Hell. Aren’t Buddhists the ones who walk around with a broom sweeping the path so they don’t accidentally step on and kill anything? I don’t know what it is about this walking trail, but it is perpetually covered in snails. Covered. Little, itty bitty snails. Hundreds of them. With each step I crunch at least 6-8. And they make the most horrible crunching noise. I feel so bad. I’ve tried avoiding them, but you can’t take a step without crunching at least one. And they’re there all the time. In the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening. Week after week after week. I would love to know why there are so many in that particular place. I just wish I didn’t crunch so many every time I went down there.

The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old... ( google leader of the band dan fogelburg)

You know, You never know who you will miss and who you will understand until you can't see them or talk to them easily or (for some of you) at all. 

Dear Dad,

I miss you.  Seriously. That's all.

love,

Your daughter who probably imitates you in more ways than you could ever believe. 

Yes, he's still alive. No, I still don't get to see him very often. Yes, you can yell at me if you feel the need if your parents have passed away.

Abortion Girl

Recently, there was a thread started in CMT about a girl whose friend was thinking of having an abortion. She doesn't believe in abortion and wanted to know what she should do in regards to her friend.

I've always been pro-choice. I still am. However, ttc issues seem to creep up all the time and completely cloud my thoughts when stuff like that comes up. My brain says, be there. Support your friend no matter what she decides. My heart says, "FOR FUCKS SAKE GIVE ME THE BABY!"

I know that this is completely illogical. I know that 9 months of carrying a child only to give it away to someone else is the hardest thing for anyone to do, and I don't fault anyone for choosing abortion over adoption.

But it's like a knife in the chest every time the thought that that aborted baby could have come home with me.

So I have this struggle between my head and my heart. I know that my head is right.

Southern Summer Nights

That phrase likely brings to mind several scenes from movies. Most filled with genteel folks drinking lemonade on porch swings living simple lives. Movies don't get the whole picture right. Even in the South life is decidedly complicated. Life in the South doesn't warrant a person a free pass to life. The thing that movies to get right though is the lazy, slow moving, haze of a humid night here.

Some of my fondest memories are of sitting on the porch on a humid night like that. I developed a love for storms as a child. Not violent disastrous storms ala Twister but static charged thunder storms that move in slowly and stake claim on an area for hours at a time. My mother and brothers and I would sit on the porch and watch these storms roll in and roll out taking comfort in knowing that this storm would be wild but not dangerous.

Another fond memory of Summer nights is gathering around a big ole watermelon. There were four of us so we would each get a quarter of the melon to our self. My middle brother taught me how to spit a watermelon seed from the steps of the porch all the way to our mothers car. I could hit the bumper of the car but he could hit the back glass. I was always very jealous. We had watermelon vines growing in our front yard every year.

Southern life is not the easy carefree life that movies portray. But like life everywhere else it is full of simple, easy, carefree moments that make the complications easier to bear.

So I took the camera out and caught tiny glimpses of life in another country with another culture. I walked around and nodded at people as a simple, yet effective, way to say hi. Some nodded. Some looked afraid. One woman grabbed her purse. Another simply glared at me and said something as I passed. The interesting thing here is that you don't know what they are saying so you can make up conversations in your head. You can simply believe that they are saying "Why, what ever is a nice young lady doing out by herself right now?".

I think the thing that one has to do when in another country far from home and with only one other person to talk to is remember "Everybody poops". Yep. It's the truth. Everybody poops. Everybody eats. Everyone breathes in and out until they simply don't anymore. Some go sliding fast towards the exit and others struggle and crawl in utter agony to that final finish line.

I'm a bit tired so this might be rambling ...

Miss you freaks.

I may try to post pictures later. We shall see how they have turned out. They could all be turd shots so you may never see them.

I don't want to grow up. I'm a Toys R Us kid.

The Damned, and Fake Praise

Permuted Press is an independent publisher of zombie novels, a company that I thought would be great. If this makes you laugh - then the rest of this post is probably going to come as no surprise.
Zombies are big - the reasons for it are a little complicated, and tend toward the socio-political, but the long and short of the matter is that our culture is ripe for the genre once more (as is was in the 70's).
I was looking at lists of recommended books on Amazon, and seeing if I could find some well written zombie novels. I had found Steven King's The Cell a disappointment to the zombie purist who lives in my head (though not bad, it goes into some sci-fi elements that I don't think are SK's strong suit, and parts felt rehashed from the truly bad King book, Tommyknockers). There was lots of hype and excitement to be found over the books Plague of the Dead, by Z. A. Recht, and Dying To Live by Kim Paffenroth. By nearly all accounts - they were the greatest things since Dawn of the Dead. I bought them at 15, and 13 dollars a piece - plus shipping. I'm cheap, so this hurt - but I felt sure that I was in for a great read.
First I read Dying to Live. The author created the bastard love child of Romero (Night of the Living Dead) and LeHaye (Left Behind): Christian Horror fiction. The book was a mess - the good parts far outstripped by the quasi-prosthelytizing and every 4th page reference to God. A working class Joe discusses his uncanny understanding of the Tribulation - a guy is killed like Christ (down to nail holes, and spear in his side), a character is designed to be a zombie Jesus, a society is built on the Ten Commandments, scientists and english professors swear off their useless secular ways in order to try to figure out what God wants of them. It sounds like fun - if I had read this description, I still may have bought it to get a laugh and to satisfy my curiosity. Don't, though.
On Amazon, there are almost exclusively 5 star reviews for it (or were, at that time) - and nobody even mentioned the Christian Horror angle. It seemed suspicious.
Plague of the Dead was next - I held out high hope for it, and wanted to get the bizarre notion of zombie-novel-turned sunday-school-theme for hip youth groups (who dig blood) out of my head. Plague was even more of a disappointment - it reads like it was written during study hall time in high school. Plot, characters, pacing, and continuity were all a wreck. I have hard time believing that most readers would finish reading it. I have no doubt that the author will improve - he seems to know a little about the tools of writing, but his use of those tools is comically haphazard in PotD (to be fair, it was his first published effort).
What both of these books had in common was a loud spate of positive reviews surrounding their release - and a fair body of 5 star reviews from readers on Amazon. If Permuted Press does not have a staff of people with the job of sitting at the computer and seeding the internet with hype, I'd be very surprised. The only other possibility, to my way of thinking, is that the friends and family and fellow amateur writer peers of these guys felt it was doing the books and their authors good to post false praise and enthusiasm - down to getting on the case of anybody who posts a negative review in a public place.
The technique may have gotten them some sales - it got me to buy two books, but the dishonesty (or absolute lack of taste, experience reading other books, or fetishistic loyalty to a niche genre) has pretty much guaranteed that I won't be buying anything from Permuted again. Just that they allowed the books to be distributed with such a lack of editorial polish pretty much swears me off of the company.
My take on all of this can be dismissed - but I'm writing with sincerity (not bitterness), a love of horror (zombies, in particular), a long held habit of reading highly regarded books and popular books alike - so I ask that it not be dismissed lightly. Buyer beware - this may be a trend in independent publishing. These guys in particular seem all too eager to aim for the quick buck, when real profit is in long term sales of a good book.

5 things that could have been....

This is something that I actually wrote years ago on my LJ (edited a tiny bit as my writing style has changed some).... it was a meme in which you take 5 turning points in your life and write a brief synopsis of what might be different today if you had made a different choice. In lieu of coming up with a new topic tonight, I give you 5 of my possible lives.

1. I am an Air Force wife, and only mildly hate it. Thankfully, none of his deployments have been too terribly long. He does a lot of "top secret" stuff, but he gets to spend most of his nights at home with me and his two children. Now if only they'd station him somewhere a little closer to St. Louis. Hell, somewhere in the continental US would be nice. Don't get me wrong... it's beautiful here. The base is nice enough and my friends here are great. I do miss my family though... and JJ and little C need to know their grandparents too, yanno?

2. I never thought he was serious when he talked about living in the desert. Here we are though, and amazingly enough I love it. His job lets him work from home so we get to set our own hours. Mostly, he works during the day while I putter around online or lounge around reading. That means we have a lot of nights together under the stars. I'm thinking of going back to school, maybe to do something in journalism. I'm not sure how the logistics would work out, but I'm starting to get restless again. All I know is that I need to do something so I can at least pretend that I'm growing up.

3. The marriage was very short-lived. I knew it was a mistake, asking him to move here. Maybe things would have been different if I had moved up there, but I was really afraid of being miserable. It's hard to imagine being more miserable than I am now though, really. I guess some girls aren't meant to have the fairy tale. Some girls are supposed to just do what they're good at, and I'm good at running the movie theater. I only wish I were also good at getting the popcorn smell out of my clothes!

4. The school system here in St. Joe isn't all it's cracked up to be. The kids are great though, and it makes me really happy that I decided to switch my major instead of throwing in the towel when the Psych department wasn't cutting it. As they say, "Those who can't do, teach." I still see Tim at least once a week. We try for more often. We have more to talk about now that I'm also teaching. I guess it helps that the school-girl crush I had on him has matured along with me. These days our talks are over dinner with a glass of wine instead of across the desk at the Peer Counseling office. It never ceases to amaze me how much of an impact a single class can have on a girl's life. I only hope I can leave such an impression on some of my students. Unlike Tim though, I have no plans to marry one of them someday.

5. So this is what my life is reduced to, huh? One failed relationship after the other? Ah well. At least I'm getting to travel a lot in the deal. I'm sure one of the cities I land in will have a job that I actually want rather than the dead-end jobs that I've been settling for. Maybe then I'll have a reason to stay in town once the romance goes sour. I'm tired of running, but I also seem to have run out of places to run. My family gave up on me years ago, and my friends are few and far between. I think I'll try out New York City next. I know I don't have what it takes to be an actress or anything, but I'm sure they always need people to work in those touristy places. And who knows? Maybe I'll be able to find "me" while I'm helping everyone else hide from themselves.

A Revelation about the life of Admiral Von Lurkerhausen

No one in the freak army knows me that well. I am a fairly new member. I am also a fairly private person. My reasons for not talking about what i'm about to, well, talk about it, is that i've been judged by so many people in a bad way for this. And i don't want to keep being judged like that... I'm sure you'll see why i didn't post this on a public forum like PBS.

On March 27Th, 2008. I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Her name is Mackenzie Bree. She is now adopted by a wonderful family that i came into contact with, through an adoption agency while i was pregnant.

When i first learned i was pregnant, the father told me to get an abortion. My brother told me to get an abortion. Most of my friends at the time told me to get an abortion. I was going to. I even had an appointment set up. I knew i couldn't raise a baby by myself. I can barely take care of myself. I have crappy job and am on a quest ( have been for awhile) to find a better one. I'm always, ALWAYS, worried about rent and food. My life has always been a struggle. I've been homeless twice. I don't have anyone here to help me take care of a baby. I have no support. I couldn't bare the thought of having to leave my baby with strangers while i go back to work after a few weeks off. I couldn't bare having a baby suffer with me.

The day came for me to get up and go have an abortion. I didn't even get out of bed. I couldn't do it. I had a life growing inside me. I knew it's heart was already beating. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill it.

I went to work the next day and my friend and partner at work, Glenn, knew something was up with me. ( Glenn is another story that will be saved for a different day!). I told him i was pregnant. He told me, i don't think on the same day, that i should find an adoption agency or lawyer. Glenn's two younger sisters were adopted. I started to think about it. How could i give up my baby after carrying for 9months though? But the more i thought about it, the more it felt right. I talked in depth about it to my mother, who agreed it was the best decision, being that she wouldn't be able to care for the baby either.

I found a wonderful agency, American Adoptions. Who set me up with a wonderful specialist, Sara. Glenn helped me pick a family from dozens and dozens of profiles. They were told about the baby, just after christmas. When i talked to them on the phone the first time we all cried. =)

We talked on the phone every week. I found out a lot of weird similarities between me and the adoptive mother, Michelle. Almost as if this was meant to be. They came to meet me, a month before the baby was due. And then they were here when i gave birth.

I had named the baby, Bree. They named her Mackenzie and asked if they could use Bree as her middle name. I was very very touched.

I was able to spend four days in the hospital with Kenzie. I kept her in my room with me the entire time. Perhaps not the best choice. But i wanted every moment possible with her. I fed her, i changed her, i burped her, i just held her and stared at her.

I signed over my rights at the hospital on the last day.

Her parents took her from the hospital. I made sure that we all left at the same time. I stood outside and handed her to her new dad, Robert. They said, " Thank You. Remember, this isn't goodbye, it's see you later." Both of them hugged me and kissed me. Then we climbed in our separate cars and i watched them drive away.

I was in agony.

I've never felt such horrible pain in my life. I thought i could die from it. I hurt so bad. I wanted her back. I truly felt like i was in hell. Sometimes i still do.

I was able to see her again, one more time a couple days later. It helped seeing her healthy and fine and her mom and dad taking such good care of her. They let me feed her and change her one more time.

We have an Open Adoption. I get pictures and letters almost once a week. On the 27th every month, Michelle sends me a milestone email update, so that i know how she's growing. Michelle and i have become somewhat close, and don't just email about Kenzie, but other things too. We email once a week.

This is really hard for me write about. In many ways. One of them is the judgement thing. People have told me to my face that i've made the wrong decision. People who have no idea about my life. The nurses at the hospital told me i was wrong to give " that beautiful baby away", and then would turn around and tell Robert and Michelle how wonderful they were adopting a baby. A girl at work actually asked me, " don't you want her?" . Another when i came back to work after being on maternity leave asked, " you kept her, right?" To which i said, "no." She burst into tears. I turned to walk away, with tears falling down my face, when she grabbed me and hugged me, and wouldn't let go for a long time. Both of us crying.

The worst thing for me is I still feel guilty. Like i could have done something more to keep her, like i couldve tried harder. Even though i know in my heart, she is in the best place she could be. She is safe, she is happy, she is loved, She wont have to worry about money, she has a mom that is now a stay at home mom ( which i looove). She has a family. And she will know that i am her BirthMom. I can write her letters and send her pictures and presents.

I see a therapist every week to get through it. I just take it, well, fuck day by day, i take it minute by minute, really. I wouldn't wish this pain on anyone. I cry at least once a day. But i wouldn't say i'm depressed every second. I laugh. I'm still a silly goofball...

Sometimes i'm like a robot, just going through the motions of life. But most times, i'm trying to better myself, better job, try to get an apartment, instead of renting this little bedroom, try to make a good life. I want her to be proud of me.

This has been really hard to write. But also feels good. Good to get it out. (sigh).

Thanks for reading. Admiral Von Lurkerhausen aka VenusMist

Welcome To Our Blog!

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Welcome to the first group blog of The Freak Army.

You may be asking yourself, "Who are these people, and where can I stalk them?".

Well, dear readers, we are merely a group of extraordinary people, bent on saving ourselves from boredom and mediocrity. We have gathered here--interwebularly-- (<-- answer to the stalking question) for our own amusement, and expect our readership to grow into the tens. This is sure to be a historic event, so please; sit back, try the Kool-Aid, and enjoy.

Yours Faithfully,
Admiral Aeon Von Beaverhousen