Goals

“Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off the goal.”~ Hannah Moore

When I was a young child, I remember crying because my parents were leaving the house for the night and my siblings and I were in the house alone with a babysitter. My parents were going out to celebrate their wedding anniversary.

And then I remember finding out that my father had married my mother at the age of 26. From that point, I knew that I wanted to be married at that age too. But it didn’t happen. The goal that I had set for myself was a goal that was unrealistic because it was bound to change as I grew older. People still today make goals in their life that are unrealistic. And those are the ones that are bound for failure from the start.

The goals that we set often are unrealistic. For one reason or another. They are too high or too low, or not right at all. We all have dreams of what we want to do. We fantasize about what we’d want to be doing by a certain point. Not just a few of us- we ALL do it!! Some of us succeed while most of us fail. And its all in the process of deciding what we want and how we plan to make sure that we are able to reach that point.

Often goals are set too high. You don’t hear a lot about setting them too low, but it happens. But usually they are too high. And when we do set them too high, it no longer becomes something that is plausible, but rather we’ve aimed too far and we’ll never hit the bullseye and then it seems in the end that it has been an impossibility.

If our goals are set too high, the inevitable disaster will strike. And unfortunately, it becomes more than something that we bargained for in the first place. When are our goals are too high, and we’ve seem to come closer and closer to the end timing of that goal and we are nowhere near reaching it… we often find ourselves throwing away common sense as well as common courtesy. We begin to step on those around us and damage our personal relationships because in our minds, we find them to be obstacles in the way of us reaching those goals. The very sad part about it, is that we don’t realize that is what we are doing to our personal relationships with others- until it is too late.

The goals are unrealistic and we say “Damn the Torpedoes!”, in an all-out effort to prove to the world (and ourselves) that we are right and they are wrong. This begins the whole process of the damage that I just mentioned.

Depending on what we were doing and what we have done, there is a chance that those damaged relationships can become salvaged and mended together. The problem is that nobody is thinking about it as it bursts into flames while we sprinkle fuel all around us because our focus is on one thing and one thing only- REACH THE GOAL.

So then we don’t reach our goals. They never happen. Now what?? Well, usually a few things go on when we’ve realized that we have failed. Usually we go through a lot of different emotions. Mainly depression, stress, and anxiety. We are crushed because we didn’t make it and we become very sad. The stress levels begin to rise because we begin to internally beat ourselves up for what we have done (or in this case, have not done). And then we go and allow our flawed human nature to take over and we assign the blame on others when we should be looking in the mirror. Our anxiety levels as well as our stress goes through the roof when our goals are just so far out of reach and we’re running out of time.

By the time I was twenty years old, I still wasn’t married. Not that I thought I’d be married while in high school, but still there weren’t any even any prospects of marriage at that point. I had only six years left to make that goal that I made as a child. And I placed all of the blame on all of the women that I thought at the time, were the ideal person to make for me a wife. And when nothing happened with them, I blamed them. I blamed all of the women in the world for a lot of things. I destroyed relationships with females during high school because that’s all that I thought about. And when things were not going as planned, I made them worse and ultimately killing any chance of any kind of relationship- friend or more- with any of them. Which is partly why I no longer have any communication with them today.

I should have been looking at myself in the mirror and thought things over and realized that my goal was not going to be something that would be attained. Mainly because the goal was never really defined or planned. It just was “a goal”.

When we make our goals, we have to actually stop and think about whether or not these things are attainable. Most of us will have to admit defeat a lot of the times because the things that we want, probably just won’t ever happen. If we can work on separating what is attainable and what is just ‘a fantasy’, and acknowledge the two then I think we have a better chance of setting better goals for our lives.

If we don’t, then we are going to end up living a life that is miserable and full of depression. Our relationships will begin to fail, and our overall physical as well as our mental health will soon fade into those dark and creepy places that we never want to be in the first place.

I would love to travel to Utah, and all states westward. But I would also like to travel to Denmark, Germany, France, and Romania. There would be nothing wrong with making these a goal in life. Except for the fact that they would be unrealistic goals. Why?? Because I do not have the money, or the means to make them happen. I might be able to visit a few of the states but going to Europe is something that really isn’t something that is plausible at this time.

I needed to realize this, and because I had then I was able to breathe a little better. Sure it was sad, but life is not always going to give you what you want.

Instead, we all should strive for goals that are within our means. Goals that we are certain we can achieve. There is nothing wrong with setting goals, in fact it is a wonderful idea. Setting the wrong goals however, will always be a burden.

Finding Your Motivation

“Get in there, and clean that pig sty!!”~ my Mother.

Throughout most of this past weekend, I have taken the time to go through my place and clean it. Mainly the important reasons are because I am about to go through our monthly inspections.

Now it is not something that they are going to come in here and do the white glove test by any means. The purpose for the inspections are to make sure that things are working properly. Making sure that light fixtures work, the water runs, toilet flushes, and so on. But they do want to make sure that the unit is kept in general housekeeping standards.

The problem is that the definition of what is good housekeeping standards varies from person to person, whomever is doing the inspection. So it is difficult to know whether or not its “clean enough”. I believe that their concern is that there’s not trash all over the floor and old food left out on the countertops and what not. Things that could eventually lead to bigger and deeper problems in the future.

Usually for me though, I’m always checked off that everything works that needs to work but when it comes to “general housekeeping”, the comment is left: Follow-up.

What the heck does that mean?? They’ve never said, “Okay, you’ve got two weeks to clean this place up.” In fact, my housecleaning status has never come under fire. I’ve always had things cleaned up to the best that I physically can, without any help or assistance.

So I had a pow-wow with my apartment manager one morning. I asked “what is general housekeeping standards”?

It was put across to me in this way:

If you met a girl on the street and you wanted to bring her back to your place for a little hanky-panky, once she walked through the front door–would you be humiliated??

Nice point. Motivation is always key.

I do however get very frustrated when I know that things need to be done around, and its something that I cannot do. I need to either ask for help or not be so hard on myself. Yet I strive to make sure that IF that scenario were to come true, that I would not fall into humiliation.

My mother always motivated myself and my brother to clean our room with the comment: Clean up your room, just in case the President of the United States comes for a visit.

It worked for a while.

Now this new motivation of whether or not a woman would dare to visit here is the new motivation in keeping things just a little bit better and better.

Motivation works in different ways for different people. It will cause a person to become more focused on something that they find is the desired effect in the end. A good example is people who want to stop smoking. They find their reasons why they should and then they search themselves to find the positive effects of them reaching the goal. Better health, more money in their pockets, and so on. But that’s only one example.

I think that humiliation in this form, is just life’s way of saying to you that your motivation is low and needs a lot of work. If a woman DID come in here and she found a pair of scorched underwear on the floor or something, then yes, I’d be totally lost within myself and I would make so very sure that NO underwear would be found on the floor ever again!!

So until I am able to find the help & assistance to help me, I continue to do what I can. And I have come to that point where I can do no more today. I’m sure I’ll find bits and pieces to tidy up from now until the day of inspection. But anything that could cause me to be humiliated is no longer there. So ladies, BRING IT ON!! Besides, I think that my mother would be proud. She would question a few things but then once she realizes it is something that is out of my reach or control, she’d smile and probably be more understanding and possibly get it done for me.

In all things, we all have our slumps. We have those things in which we really don’t wanna do but we know that we must. So finding that motivation is very important. If we cannot find it, or do not look for it, then we’ll end up not doing what we are supposed to and thus suffer the consequences for our own actions because we did not do what we should have in the first place.

What motivates you???

 

Jewelry Separation

“Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need to know of hell.”  ~Emily Dickinson

Last night I believe that I softly cried myself to sleep. A bitter ending to an usually busy day for me as I was cleaning my apartment for most of the afternoon and evening.

The steady activity of unusual excercise probably had worn me out, but in my efforts of cleaning always leads me to a surprise of discoveries of previously misplaced or lost items. One of which was the receipt to the gold ring that I had in a pawn shop. A ring that I did very much so intend on paying back the loan and retrieving ownerships once more.

But when I looked at the date that was printed to be the “last day of grace”, my entire body sank when I realized that date was yesterday.

I quickly went online to search for the operating hours of the pawn shop and it just got worse as by the time I realized it, I only had about 45 minutes before the pawn shop would close. All I needed to do was pay the interest amount on the loan and they would re-finance it to where I would have another grace period. But it would do nothing for the principal of the loan.

So I called them. I tried to explain my situation that I had the money for the interest amount, but would not be able to get there before they were going to close. As much as they did apologize and tell me that they felt for me, they were not willing to do anything about it. At least not in the sense that they would hold off for another day until I was able to arrive there to pay for the interest amount. The grace period was over.

This was the ring that I had put in pawn as a test to see what I would get for it, before selling that other ring that I had that had too many bad memories attached to it. This ring that was lost last night, the pawn shop was willing to give a loan up to $225 for. The story I had written in a previous post.

But instead of taking out that much of a loan, I only took $60 of it. I didn’t want to take so much of a loan on it that I could not pay it back. And it turns out that I couldn’t after all.

Even when I returned to SELL the ring that I didn’t want, I thought I would receive more for it because it had a larger garnet in it and diamonds around. But surprisingly, they didn’t give that much to me for selling it.

If I had known that I was going to lose this ring though, I probably would have gone ahead and taken the $225. But I had not intended on losing it at all. Now I have.

I could mention the reasons and excuses for why I never got to the pawn shop. But writing about them here isn’t going to return the ring back to me. It is not going to change anything.

All I could do was reflect on how proud I was when I bought the ring back in 2002 or around that time. It was something that I paid for MYSELF. (With the $20 exception that I got from my sister as a birthday gift towards the purchase.) Still, I paid for it. And I thought I was a bad ass for having it. I thought I looked pretty sharp with it on.

And then my thoughts would switch over to the ugliness of the situation from the OTHER ring. I was surprised that my brain would switch thoughts like that in an instant. I began to not like my ex all over again and blame her some more for the other situation. But I did not blame her for this.

And I also started to blame the scenario of a few months ago from the scam that I fell victim to. I believe that had I not fallen for it, my finances would be a lot different than what they are now. And most likely I wouldn’t have had to step inside the pawn shop at all for any reason.

I can point fingers and assign blame all that I want. But it will not give me the ring back.

I COULD go back into the pawn shop after a while and see how much that they are selling it for and buy it back, but most likely the mark-up on it will be so crazy that I couldn’t afford it.

So I guess that this whole summer, I had one hard lesson to learn. And it stings for sure. Perhaps now I will go online and do some shopping to see whether or not I am able to find something different. Something else that I might enjoy just as much to wear and see whether or not I can afford it. If so, I just might buy me another ring from some place else.

I’ll have to keep my eyes open.

So I wave farewell to the ring that I most enjoyed having. It is only material, and it can be replaced. And so I’ll march forward to do so.

Getting Territorial

“A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart.”~William Shakespeare

So I’ve decided while this is still fresh, to share this with you. I received quite the wicked message from a man who apparently has “the lovers making of 10,000 men”. It was not in the least bit pleasant and definitely something that has been written out of rage. At first, it was offensive. But when I read it over a few times, it just got stupid and I began to find a lot of humor in it because it is so senseless, unnecessary, and above all: wrong.

I find the reason behind this message being written to me to be just as laughable. Sufficed to say, I did not reply. I did not ask questions. I simply deleted the message. But what I did do was copied it.

This message that is written by this man is involving a woman that he and I both know and associate with. For myself, it is at a social and platonic level. But evidently, this woman has somehow developed into the love of his entire life.

I will keep the names out of it. Other than that I will not edit it, however I will warn you that the language is a bit rough. It reads as follows:

Hey dude,

Who the fuck do you think you are?? Do you think you are some kind of Romeo cuz you’re not. You’re not God’s gift to women either, you fucking jerkoff!! Why don’t you just fucking roll down a hill and off of a cliff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do you think _______ is really all that impressed with you? Do you really think she is in love with you? Boy you have another thing coming if you think you are going to get down into her panties. I have a better shot at that than you do. I am not being cocky, I am just being real. Quit sending those stupid x’s and o’s and get out of the dark ages. Go find yourself another woman cuz I can speak for her right now she don’t want you, motherfucker. Fuck off and die.

As I said, I suspect this was written in anger. I am not the kind of person that will react to confrontation. In fact, I will avoid confrontation as much as possible. Particularly with people that I do not know. This guy, I don’t know anything about personally. Just that he and I have some kind of correspondence with the same woman.

It is actually primal and natural to be territorial. Men fight other men to keep other men away from their woman. They do things to make sure that nobody even dares to take a glance in the wrong way towards the woman that they are with. It would seem as if males are more territorial than females. But females also get territorial themselves. But I could be wrong. I honestly do not know who is more territorial, male or female? I have no clue.

But in this case where this man wrote me a message, is totally ridiculous.

So let me break this down and I hope that I can show you why I think this is funny.

First and foremost, my name isn’t “dude”.

Am I Romeo? No. Romeo is a fictional character in a play from Shakespeare. The character of Romeo also kills himself in the end. I am neither fictional or suicidal.

Am I God’s gift to women? Absolutely not! If I were “God’s gift to women”, I wouldn’t be sitting at home at this hour on a Friday night!! My Facebook friends list would be at maximum, my Twitter account would have thousands and thousands of followers, and my e-mail inbox would be FULL of messages to the point where it would no longer be accepting new messages because it reached its capacity. And my phone would be ringing off the hook.  None of these things are happening.

Sending x’s and o’s the last time I looked isn’t a crime. Rather it is something that I do. It is something that makes me who I am. I am an affectionate person and if I so choose to show affection by writing “xoxo”, then that’s what I do. Apparently this bothers him too much. Well, too bad.

Am I trying to get into someone’s pants? No. The woman who this man is referencing lives thousands of miles away from me. So the actual reality is that there’s no way that I could, even if I wanted to get inside of her pants. I may find this woman to be physically attractive but that doesn’t mean I am trying to engage in congress with her.

As far as I know, this woman could already have a social life of her own that includes sexual activity. Whether she does or not, is her business and not mine. And by the same token, it really isn’t any of this guy’s business either. But something inside of him that he saw me either say or do caused him to get so crazy out of his mind with rage and jealousy, that he thought it would be best if he marked his territory over this woman who lives thousands of miles away from her as well.

What they do and what they talk about is their business. What this woman & I do and talk about is MINE.

There are so many different theories as to why this man has done what he did. Personally, I don’t care. With his message though, he just showed his immaturity. I COULD HAVE forwarded the message to the woman in which this so-called conflict has taken place, but I don’t find the worth in doing so.

I firmly believe that this whole scenario is based on something that this man did not like and instead of seeking out the truth, he decided to make up his own mind about what was going on, and decided to speak while still processing his anger. And that is something that we as humans, should never do. Talk out of anger. It is something that takes practice though. It took me a very long time to realize my emotions that were becoming out of control and ultimately speaking out of anger. I since believe that I can edit my own self a little better and not do it so much.

In my last relationship, I yelled at my ex just once during the entire length of the time that we were together. But then I quickly realized that I had done so, I apologized to her immediately, and then tried to resolve the issue that we were arguing about from a different angle or method.

To speak out of anger, causes a lot of problems. For one, a person usually ends up saying something that they did not mean in the first place. They are hurt and all that they want to do is make the other person feel their hurt. So they say things that are not true just to hurt them. However in the end, all they have done is said things that they didn’t honestly mean or believe in, and caused themselves even more pain.

This guy however wants to be “King of the mountain”. So whatever.  And if he doesn’t like that I speak to women in certain ways well then he has the problem, and not mine. It will be something that he will just have to deal with or accept.

 

Howling At An October Moon

“Let’s Get Scared!”~ House of Torment, 2011

So I realized by watching this “upgraded” newsfeed on Facebook that the House of Torment is officially open tonight for the 2011 Halloween season.

And still, there is one solid week left of the month of September before things turn a little more, spooky… shall we say??

If you read the earlier post about getting scared early, you’ll know that the House of Torment is something of a fascination. And if you read it all the way through, you’ll understand why.

Needless to say that I never could find sufficient transportation to make it to any auditions or casting calls, so again it slips away from me. But I still get all excited like a little boy deep down inside whenever October comes. Knowing that they are doing a fine job down there scaring thousands of customers throughout the month of October, and yes even the end of September. I believe it is the longest running haunted attraction in the state of Texas.

It still remains in the top ten lists of scariest haunted houses. And that surely is good for business.

But for me, since most of these kinds of attractions are not really ADA compliant, my account from my experiences in the previous blog post will probably be my last. And that is a shame. Its always the same for me. Wanting to go, wishing I could go, but never go.

But I shifted with the change of the breeze outside when I realized the attraction was celebrating opening night this evening. I’ll be more interested in scarier things. My fascination for horror films will rise, and I’ll be all about those blood sucking vampires. And then just before the Thanksgiving holiday, I’ll snap out of it and life will move on again for another twelve months.

Haunted houses make so much money annually. It would be nice to be able to tap into some of it, I think. But hey, life is what it is. I will continue my fascination with it… believing that one day, something can happen for me.

Where will you go this Halloween season? Do you have a favorite haunted attraction?? What things are you afraid of??? Let me know!!

Milk Madness

“Five enemies of peace inhabit with us – avarice, ambition, envy, anger, and pride; if these were to be banished, we should infallibly enjoy perpetual peace.”~ Petrarch

So its been a while since I have posted a story for you about our glorious goings-on at the food pantry. This one is a winner!!

Food pantry distribution happens here where I live once a month. (What I call “my time of the month”.) And it never seems to surprise me how the elderly neighbors can get so rowdy and ruthless over food that is in plentiful stock and the fact that everyone knows that nobody will go without.

The perk that I personally enjoy is that I am able to get in and get out and take whatever food I need first before anyone else goes in there, as I am there to make sure that everyone gets their food items in the best orderly fashion that is possible. That is all.

So I have volunteered my time to help out, calling numbers of apartments so that each person has a chance to go. There is not list of names, it doesn’t go one after the other.

Its like a lottery drawing. And we’ve been doing it this way for many, many months now. Nobody here should be a stranger to how it works.

Today’s surprise was that there was a nice selection of Strawberry flavored milk. One pint bottles. Not bad! It definitely has been a while since we’ve been given something like this.

Once the first few people were showing it off that they had it. So people were curious and interested.

But still, the avarice of these elderly people is amazing. There are a couple of people who give “problems”, but I am able to get a few steps ahead of them and deal with it. But this time, one of our esteemed neighbors had faked putting their slip of paper into the box and actually held on to it, and when I was ready to call numbers… this person attempted to get in FIRST. But when I had alerted the social worker that I had not called their number, they were refused. When their evil plan was ruined- they tried to use the excuse that they didn’t understand English.

It didn’t work.

When more and more people were coming in and out and talking about the strawberry milk, people were really getting out of control. Each person got ONE. Only ONE pint of the milk. The accusations began to fly over people getting two, three, even five of them. Which simply isn’t the case.

Others were apparently coming up with a plan to gain more than just the one that they were allowed and sharing their plans with others. Not exactly brilliant motives there.

Wouldn’t you know it.. an actual physical FIGHT broke out amongst three residents over strawberry flavored milk. People were throwing punches against their own neighbors. Mainly because those who were hearing about the plans to take more flavored milk than they would be given, were not liking the idea at all and believing that if these greedy people were successful then there would not be enough for the rest of them. And that, I would say is a safe assumption.

Three people get into it with arms and fists flying everywhere. It was chaos. Nobody could really tell who was doing the fighting, nobody could really tell who was trying to defend themselves, nothing. Everything was so unclear.

Needless to say that once this altercation had stopped, three people were pulled out and in the end sent home with NO food, and definitely NO strawberry milk. And two of them were pulled aside.

But at least I can say that nobody was physically hurt to the point where they were needing medical attention. Just a bunch of angry egos and greedy-minded plots that were exposed and ruined.

It seems as if each time this part of the month rolls around, there’s always something.

After the “Milk Madness”, I was eyewitness to two other people who were frustrated that their numbers were not being called. I pull the slips of paper out of the box and whatever is there, gets called. I believe that both of them just didn’t have the patience to wait any more. They had been waiting for over an hour. But today’s distribution took over TWO hours in total until we had the last person called in. It is a bit ironic to have gone that long because last month, everyone was taken care of in less than an hour. And it was about the same amount of people from last month compared to today.

These two people had such poor attitudes about it as well. I’ve seen people get up and leave for whatever reasons. But they were not complaining about the wait and how unfair things were. They waited as long as they could, until they could wait no longer and then they decide to leave. That’s just the way it is.

People who are 65 years of age and older, actually throwing punches over strawberry flavored milk. The elderly have no business getting into fights. Nobody’s health can take that kind of stress. Especially those who were involved in this today. Shouldn’t they know already that this kind of behavior could do something horrible to their bodies? I guess not.

Can you stand it???

 

Roommate Rampage

“Its really hard to be roommates with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs.”~ J. D. Salinger

For those of us who feel the necessity for a roommate, whether it is for reasons of trying to save money and cut down on the cost of living, or maybe getting a little extra help on outrageous rent, or if it is for the purposes to feed the need for socialization and not feeling alone, selecting a roommate should be a very selective and tedious process. Especially if it is you who is head of household.

One has got to do their homework and yes, even research people whom they might think be potential roommates, because you never truly know what you are going to get.

Throughout my stay on the farm this past week, I’ve seen first hand how important and just how true this really is. I entered into a house out in the middle of nowhere, that already had four people occupying it.

I will attempt to break this down:

• head of household
• cousin to head of household
• boyfriend to cousin
• personal attendant to head of household

So in a sense, you have three that could be considered as “family” and one other. The head of household is a disabled person and a veteran and was in need of help. But deep down, I believe that not only did he need the help, but he needed the social interaction in his life. So when he hired the personal attendant to come live in the house, rent free… he also invited his cousin and her boyfriend to come help out as well.

The problem was that the head of household didn’t tell each individual that the other was coming. And they all lived in one house. It probably lasted less than two months in total.

I had been communicating with both the head, and with the personal attendant prior to my visit to the farm. The personal attendant kept swearing up and down that the house was a miserable place to be, and that she was lonely. The head of household kept trying to get me to come back for another visit, but I had a terrible and boring experience back in April and that just lasted a weekend.

Nonetheless, I foolishly went back. Started to have a better time just hanging out and doing whatever. But the personal attendant was not all that she had made herself up to be, and the situation inside the house was a powder keg, ready to explode.

But I took an entirely neutral stance on the situation. Whenever things were showing signs of getting heated a little bit, I got out of the way. None of this was my fight in any way.

It seemed a bit crazy in there. The boyfriend and girlfriend I thought were rather loud in the house. I thought that perhaps a little volume adjustment in their voices would behoove them, and things would become easier for everyone. They were in their early 20’s. Kids, basically.

The personal attendant though, in her mid-40’s,  was a complete and totally different story. A story of talking like one person, but behaving like another.

For a couple of days though the couple was gone out of the house. It was just the three of us for a while. It seemed more relaxed. The couple were the youngest ones in the house and it had seemed like the atmosphere had changed to a more adult and mature thing.

But what I was missing from the very beginning was the fact that the personal attendant would stay hidden and holed away in her bedroom while the couple was there. Once they were gone, she emerged. (And she said she was lonely?)

While they were gone, the three of us drove into town and went to the grocery store. There was this issue about who was paying for what and who had what money and these sorts of things. I had been told by head of household that I would NOT be expected to pay for anything because I was a guest in his house. So I intentionally left my wallet at home. So the debate of who was going to be paying for food was between the two of them.

Eventually, that got settled as the attendant took care of the grocery bill herself.

Yet throughout the entire time that she and I were by ourselves in the aisles, she would complain about the other two. How dirty they were, how they didn’t do anything to help, how lazy they were, and so on. But I DID notice that she wouldn’t say anything to the head of household, who was essentially– her boss.

I honestly couldn’t see her point of view. How was it “miserable”? She was laughing and having fun and everything in between… as long as the kids weren’t there. But once they showed up, she took refuge back into her bedroom. And honestly, I tell you, she did not come out unless she was called for by the head of household. Not even for meals would she come out to the table to eat. She had always given some excuse as to why she would not join the rest of us.

So allow me to continue. While at the grocery store, she bought FOR HERSELF, a can of pineapples. This is something that she wanted for herself. She didn’t want anyone else to have it. I heard it, the other guy heard it.

The biggest key factor was that the couple didn’t hear it because they were not there.

 The very next day, that can of fruit that only cost 79¢ ignited the powder keg. Fueled by the fact that the three of them were drinking heavily that evening.

They had taken the can and blended the pineapple into a wild cocktail. Then the head of household went knocking on the attendant’s bedroom door to offer her a drink that had her pineapple in it.

I was in the next bedroom online, and checking messages, when all of a sudden the personal attendant came up from behind me and started whispering in total anger. Her face turning red as she tried to keep the volume of her voice down low enough so that the “others” couldn’t hear.

Something was said. The shouting began. And I knew it was coming. I tried to hang on and ignore it but there was really nowhere to go to avoid what was brewing.

A few more times the attendant would storm into the next bedroom where I was on the computer and just start bitching and moaning. The others noticed this. The cousin finally called her out, drunk as a skunk.

Let me also add that every single day that I was there, whenever I was in a situation where it was just myself and the attendant alone in a room or space, she would complain about the others, mainly the couple. Always complaining about the same things repeatedly.

My answers finally were “Go talk to your boss.”, she did NOT heed my advice, at all. She kept coming back with “He won’t listen to me. But he’ll listen to you because you’re his buddy.”

I never really saw her TRY. Whenever she had some kind of worry or complaint, she came to me. I was not there to be anyone’s ombudsman or referee.

Now the cousin kept getting louder and louder, and more vulgar towards the attendant. The attendant actually never did fire back that I recall.  She just decided to keep coming into the bedroom where I was and talk to me. I didn’t care for it because my back was towards the door and I couldn’t “see” her coming. The door didn’t have a lock either so I couldn’t gain that privacy that way.

Eventually the head of household came down the hallway and I expressed that I was not appreciating her barging in on me like she was. That she needed to talk to him. So he was the one that made that move first, instead of her.

She shouted out, “I want my money that I am owed for being here, and I’m gone. I’m outta here. I’m done.” Well, there was no arguing that she had made up her mind. She had said it loud enough for everyone in the house to understand her. Then she finally took off in her vehicle and went some place. Nobody knows where.

She stumbled back into the house later around 3:00 AM. We heard the door open. Actually, the house has a pretty nifty security alarm system that beeped whenever ANY door that led to the outside was opened. You couldn’t get away from it.

I ignored her as I played video games with the others. I finally went to bed closer to 4:00 AM, exhausted… stressed out… and nervous. And it proved that I had every right to be.

I laid down on the couch where I was sleeping in the back living room. There was NO privacy at all there. Anyone in the house could walk through there. I would eventually open my eyes momentarily and there stood the personal attendant, next to the bed hovering over me. Scaring me to death!

She then climbed into bed with me. She again took another opportunity to whine and complain and I kept telling her “Talk to your boss!!”. Over and over again.

Then she was pissed off because I would not allow her to stay in bed with me.  It was already 6:00 AM at that point when I told her to leave. I heard her say as she walked away, “I guess nobody wants to be around me.”

Well ummm.. no, not really. Not with you acting like this. Not with you just standing there over me while I sleep and then also climbing into bed while I am sleep, uninvited. Plus, I don’t know who you are!!

This was all done probably was because the night before, I was sleeping soundly and I woke up to roll over and she was right there in bed with me… snoring.

From the six nights that I stayed in the house, she crawled into bed with me while I slept four nights. And everytime- uninvited.

How terrifying to have someone standing over you, waiting for you to wake up while you are sleeping in the middle of the night!!!

By the time this fight had escalated to the level it had, all I kept saying to myself was “one more night…. just one more night.”

The fighting continued Friday night as during that day, everyone but the attendant went into town. The head of household got a money order for the attendant for the amount that she was told the VA was willing to pay her. Wrote “Final Check” on it and had given her five days to leave.

She didn’t want to leave. She kept saying that she was saying it because she was mad. But the head of household took her serious when she said she was done. So he gave her a money order. Got gas for her vehicle too so she could make it into town to fill up.

But she really didn’t want to leave. Again, she slipped into my bed to wake me up and complain about this, when she should have complained about it to someone else. She vowed that she would “fix everyone in the house”.

The guy’s parents (my neighbors) were coming and I would return home with them. That was supposed to be Friday morning. They didn’t show up. Instead, they arrived Saturday morning. But I thought that I would have that buffer to get away from her while this guy’s parents were there.

For the most part, she stayed in her bedroom on Saturday. Not all day, but most of it. I took advantage of the fact that she was holed up in her bedroom and took a nap. She had stolen so many hours of sleep from me those nights just keeping me awake so she could complain.

Around 3:00 PM, I heard thunder. Actual thunder. I stirred in bed and then I heard the rain just pouring!! And because the entire state is in such a drought… I ran outside and sat in it. Yeah, I probably could have gotten sick but I obviously didn’t think about that.

I was just enjoying it so much because I had not seen it in so long that I went out into a field and stripped down naked. Yep. B A R E – A S S E D   N A K E D ! ! !

(Some of my blog subscribers are probably blushing right now. And a few others are probably attempting to get a mental picture. You’re welcome!)

It rained for a while. A couple of hours I would say, it would let up but kept raining. We all had noticed that the attendant had left. She didn’t say a word to anyone. Just left. And by that point, truth be told that nobody cared or mentioned it or questioned it either.

By 11:00 PM, my neighbors had gone to bed. The cousin was sleeping. The head of household and the boyfriend to the cousin were outside on “an armadillo and snake hunt”.

I was at the kitchen table using a laptop. Then I heard a knock. The doors were locked for the night and it was the attendant. So, I let her in. She then began to tell me this tale about how the father had sexually assaulted her in her bedroom.

PRETTY SERIOUS ACCUSATION.

She said she was scared to even be in the same house as the man. But then I thought about this:

• There are two steps that are built in a corner to gain entry to her bedroom.
• The details of her story of where it happened exactly kept switching from the desk in her bedroom and the closet in the back of the room.
• The man she was accusing of doing this to her, is in his mid-60’s and needs the use of a walker for mobility and his health is fading pretty quickly, especially this past year.
• The time of day in which this had happened, everyone was in the house but she said that nobody else was in the house.

Very weird.

How could he have gotten up those stairs without being detected? He’s pretty slow. WHY then didn’t she scream when he came after her?

Never made much sense. Until I remembered that night of the fight where she “promised to fix everyone”.

Whether it was a plan for her to really cause a stir and try to divide one against the other, or it was actually TRUE that it had happened, I took it upon myself to go outside and tell the head of household that she was accusing his father of this action.

It was over. The guy went back into the house, around 12:00 AM and knocked on her bedroom door as she was sitting there like she had been for days and nights. He started to scream “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!”.

She looked at him like she didn’t know why he was screaming. She reminded him that he had said she had a few days to get out. But he changed his mind because of this accusation. He kept screaming “GET YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!”.

It woke up a lot of people. Then he went into the bedroom in which his own parents were asleep and informed them that she was accusing the father of this action.

The argument between head of household and attendant didn’t transpire for much longer as she left the house. When she did, he called the law enforcement and had them send out a county Constable.

Naturally it took him a while to get out there. But by the time the Constable arrived, she had returned to the house with a neighbor from down the road and dragged him into this situation. She even lied to him about WHY he was there in the first place.

She began to gather her things and move it out to her vehicle. One piece at a time. Nobody helped her. The Constable ended up speaking to the head of household, the unsuspecting neighbor, the attendant, the father who was verbally being accused, and me!

Actually, I was the second person he spoke to. And I told him what had been happening since the moment I walked in the door that Monday evening. The roommates simply could not get along was the meat and potatoes of the entire situation. And I spoke of the creepy things that she was doing, like standing over me in bed.

The last two people that the Constable spoke to was her and then the father. But then the Constable called for me again. And I thought that she was going to try and drag me down as well. Scared me to death. But he only asked me what happened during a situation at lunch, which was nothing compared to what was going on already.

Finally, the Constable assisted her in removing her things from the house. He followed her out. I saw and read the copy of the report. She signed it and it said that she understood she was never to return back to the property. If she did, she could be charged with criminal trespass and in this state, that means that she could spend up to 1 year in jail and/or pay a $4,000 fine.

I was home the next afternoon.

This totally long and lengthy story should serve as a warning for those who have potentially put themselves in a situation where roommates do not get along with one another. Always be sure to check out the people whom you are considering as a roommate. Find out more about them before you commit to it. Never allow yourself to be uncomfortable where you live. Especially if it is YOU who are the head of the household. And even if you are not, do not allow yourself to be bulldozed by those who are. Make sure you can get along peacefully with one another. Do not be ashamed or scared to actually do a search on them prior to giving them a set of keys. Find out if they have a past and it will save you so much grief in the long run.

I was no referee to anyone. But I sure was an eyewitness to everything.

Farm Fatuity

“Cows are my passion. What I have ever sighed for has been to retreat to a Swiss farm, and live entirely surrounded by cows – and china.”~ Charles Dickens

From the memories that are still fresh in my brain, the past week of that split second decision to leave town and head out to be on a farm for a while has given this city boy a lot of think and ponder about.

Unfortunately for Charles Dickens, this farm didn’t have any cows. And I don’t recall seeing any china either, so I think that he would have been disappointed.

But you take the city boy away from all the sounds of emergency vehicle sirens, the incessant clammering of people and things and put him into a place that can only be described as nothing but pure wilderness, and he becomes lost.

Everybody has heard of “BFE”. Well, the farm that I was on, if you compared it geographically with BFE, you’d be able to find BFE a lot faster than you would this farm. And yet I can still sit here and reflect on some pretty amusing experiences that I have never had before, and probably would have never had at all, if I had not gone to that farm.

Six full days and nights away from city lights, traffic, and the busy noises of metropolitan USA. Where it takes you more than an hour to drive on bumpy, dirt roads just to find a town or a city limit.

The house used to be an old church or mission. But the property is looking more and more like a farm or maybe a ranch. Because I AM a city guy, I do not know the differences between those two terms, so I couldn’t say for sure.

One of the most unusual things that I found in the house was that the windows were totally unprotected. No curtains or anything to cover them. Honestly, if it was an issue of privacy, there was plenty of it already. The “neighbors” were not that close to one another. So any kind of light fixtures that were there or other natural nocturnal light just poured in. Difficult to sleep in, I thought.

And yet I think the occupants of the house were still trying to get used to the country life. It was not the stereotypical method of “We eat what we grow!” kind of situation. There was always someone willing to take the long trip into town to find a local grocery store to obtain food.

So it wasn’t totally DOWN ON THE FARM kind of visit. No banjos, no red barns, and no incestuous redneck cousin relations.

Yet I entered into a house that already had four people in it. All of them hadn’t been around one another for very long and was still trying to get used to one another and adapt to one another’s lifestyles. But they all were there to help feed the farm animals and make sure that things were fine.

I didn’t do a lot. I was an invited guest. I did not volunteer my time to assist with the farm chores. But I was there for socialization and good conversation (whenever there was any.)

Several horses and donkeys. A few pot-bellied pigs. And a ton of dogs. Some inside, most of them outside. Many dachshunds, Bassett hounds, and beagles. Every once in a while some deer would be spotted by the dogs outside and they would alert everyone to anything that moved in the fields. I mean ANYTHING!

Deer, other dogs, mountain lions too. I spotted a mountain lion one night while on the phone with one of my best friends out on the front porch. So that was thrilling.

But I also was able see different creatures and animals up close, like that mountain lion, that I would never be able to see short of visiting a zoo. And for those of you who are keeping score: I LOVE ZOOS!! But for now, I digress on that topic.

One of the strangest things that I got to see, were armadillos. Prior to that, my one and only experience was when I was traveling just south of Amarillo, Texas with my younger brother and he mistakenly ran one over that was sitting in the middle of the highway. We went UP, and then we came DOWN. Chances are though it was already roadkill by the time we drove over it.

But this was the first time that I had seen one alive and in motion. Just doing its thing. Naturally, with the dogs being the proverbial alarm system, we could see them out in the distance.

I didn’t know and still don’t know much about armadillos. I knew that they were not a threat in terms of whether or not they were “poisonous”. But they do have very sharp and long claws for digging. So I guess the biggest danger to mankind was either a bite or a scratch.

Unfortunately for these creatures, they were destroying crops and plants. The occupants of the farm decided to get rid of them. But just how do you dispose of an armadillo? They have that leathery shell all around them. These guys decided to use a .22 rifle and also a .38 Special. Clearly one of them being the bigger of the booms.

In an eight-hour time span, they got three armadillos. And added the fourth within a 24 hour span. I had witnessed one display of overkill as the body of the armadillo was just searching for a nerve to attach to. I actually was offered to give what they were calling “the death-blow” to one armadillo with the .38 , but I had declined it. I don’t have a lot of experiences with firearms. I think the last time I pulled any kind of trigger on anything was when I was 14 years old on a shotgun.

But it was not the only thing that I would be able to see up close. One night, actually the last night that I was there, a copperhead was found. It was a baby copperhead though. A neighbor stated that since it was a baby snake, that most likely more snakes were around.

The copperhead that I saw, had been knocked out by a rock. Most of the people in the house thought it was dead. Until I grabbed a hold of it and it began to slither just a little. Then I dropped it to the ground and someone else took care of removing its head.

I never got bit though. Neither was I scratched or mauled by any wild animal or other reptiles.

Had I not gone out there to that farm for a week, I would have never been able to see any of these things. Each time someone came inside yelling in victory over an armadillo, the first reaction I always had been me screaming, “I WANNA SEE IT!!”. Sounding like some inquisitive five-year old.

They were all probably laughing at me behind my back. But that’s okay.

For the most part, it was entertaining out there. Certainly wasn’t as boring and dull as it was the first time that I was there. And even then, that was only a weekend. This was twice the time on the farm.

 

Empty Promises

“You pile up enough tomorrows, and you’ll find you are left with nothing but a lot of empty yesterdays.”~ Robert Preston as Prof. Harold Hill in “The Music Man” [1962]

This blog site is now back on the air and back in business after being gone for a week. I made a last minute split decision to go out of town and hang out on a farm about 100-130 miles from my home. I am sure that I will get into more of that later as it was quite eventful. Complete with fights, animals, screaming, and the local authorities getting involved. I have so much fodder for blog posts its not even funny.

For those who are the faithful ones, I will do my best this week to catch up with posts, so your head doesn’t fall off from not having anything to read about.

But as I gather my thoughts today, I seem to be having this feeling that I have brushed upon this subject matter before already. I just don’t have the desire to thumb through all of my posts to make sure.

But in my journey last week, the person who had invited me to his farm was more than willing to put himself on the line again. (This being the second time I have visited, and the first visit was just so miserable and boring.) And because of the fact that I did not enjoy myself the first time, I told him that there was going to be a few conditions to me agreeing to return back to the farm. Conditions that he must abide by.

So then his reply was this: “Oh no problem. I promise you, I got you covered! Just come on down and have some fun.”

In a list of about seven “conditions” that I had presented, only three were fulfilled. Compared to the ONE promise that was made and that one was not fulfilled at all from the first visit.

I guess you could say, “he’s getting better”. But really, would you do that?!?

Nothing sucks like an empty or broken promise. This guy definitely is all about the sale by whatever means necessary. I have had many people promise me something and then never ever do they deliver on their promises.

Broken promises are lies bascially. You were told something was going to happen and it never does. So they’ve lied about that certain thing happening because it didn’t. There’s really nothing much that you can do about it. You’ve found yourself in that trap and then you begin to feel quite foolish and humiliated because you had your heart set on something and you didn’t receive it. Of course a person might go through a bit of anger because of the deceit, but still- what are YOU going to do about it??

What CAN you do about it?

Well, in my case I believe it is simple. Naturally the trust that I originally had, begins to fade away. Just like the saying goes, “once bitten, twice shy”. And because of the broken promises, I actually find myself in a better position to be armed against it. Now that I’ve been bitten twice. Those emptied promises that were conditions of my second visit to the farm, I will remember. And if a third invitation is offered, then the request will either be denied or placed on hold until he is able to fulfill his previous promises and shows that if I am needing something from him, that he provides it EVEN BEFORE I begin to pack.

If a person has broken their promise to you, you’ll feel the sting of their burn. You can either forgive the person or not. You can choose to trust in that person in the future or you may not ever again. That choice comes from you and you alone.

But in an effort for optimism, there will be those times where a promise is made but is broken and sometimes the circumstances around it are out of the control of the person providing the promise. Life happens. I just believe that this was not the case in my situation. But it has and can happen for others.

Once you figure out that the person was either lying to you, or said one thing and couldn’t hold up their end of the deal because of something that was out of their control, you can either forgive and forget or you can allow yourself to lose that trust with that person.

We feel so awful and full of shame that we allowed ourselves to believe in that person, when they couldn’t deliver. We’ve got to go ahead and pick up the pieces and learn our lessons. Then our decisions must be made on whether or not we will trust these certain people again.

Where does your faith stand?

 

September 11th, 2001

“OH MY GOD!!!”~ America, on September 11, 2001

For those of us who can remember, this day will never be forgotten. This generation has their own “Day of Infamy”.

Not since the attack at Pearl Harbor in December of 1941, had their been such a deliberate and deadly attack on U.S. soil. 

And even though this tragic event still lies fresh in the minds of every American today, the world too… will never forget.

The Internet is full of commemorative articles, blogs, and posts today. Every American has their own haunting memories of that day of where they were when they had first heard about this attack. I already have read a few of them, and they have brought me to relentless and unending tears.

I recall writing about my own experiences after the fifth anniversary, in a blog on MySpace. And now, this is the tenth. I shall do so here in this blog. Please note: that all times listed are written in the Central time zone. This is very difficult for me, so please bear with me as I recall my own experiences, thoughts, and emotions.

Where was I on September 11th, 2001?

My story will actually begin a little bit before that. On the 20th of August. That day,  I had moved from a small town in southwestern Kansas over to Austin, Texas. My sister who had been here since she decided to go to college in Texas. Had been married a few years and had previously offered to come live with her, because the town that I was living in was only populated by less than 50,000 people in the entire county. Her proposal was for me to move into a much larger city area of over 1 million people. It would give more opportunity, more chances than where I was at.

So that day in August, was a Tuesday. I had taken the bus from Garden City, Kansas to Amarillo, Texas. From there, I flew to Austin, with an hour layover in Dallas. I mention the layover because I was placed in the front row by the flight attendants and the pilot had come over the intercom and announced that this was that aircraft’s “maiden voyage”. That airplane that I was on from Dallas to Austin, had never flown with passengers. And there I was in the front row. 

From that point, I was picked up at the Austin airport and began a new life. This was three full weeks from what was about to happen to America.

The night of the 10th of September,  I had stayed awake. I was still used to chatting with friends through all hours of the night, but now that I was living with other people, I had to wait until my sister and her husband were asleep before I could do that. Mainly, I still had contacts that I was communicating with who lived on the west coast.

Sherman Oaks & Los Angeles, California… as well as Portland, Oregon. Of course it was not “late” for them as they were two hours behind. So by about 3:00 AM on the morning of the 11th, my contacts on the west coast said ‘good night’, but I did not go to sleep. I still was trying to get used to my new area and surroundings. So I decided to try and unpack a few things and re-arrange things in my bedroom. But I did not go to sleep.

By 5:00 AM I had enough of being stuck in my bedroom. I went out into the living room to watch television, but with the volume low. But of course there’s nothing on at that time of day. By 5:30 AM, I went into the kitchen to attempt to surprise my sister and her husband by making breakfast for everyone. But there really wasn’t much to deal with. I ended up slapping together this really gross & disgusting mixture of hamburger meat and rice. I thought at least it was something.

That day was going to be an important day. I had been in Texas for three full weeks, but had not left the house except for one evening. Other than that, I was pretty much stuck there to that point. 

So that is probably why I was not able to sleep. Knowing that we would be leaving that morning early to go into Austin (as my sister lived out in the country). 

I remember hearing the alarm clock go off. My brother-in-law woke up and got ready for work. I started to prepare a plate of that culinary abortion that I made. But instead he just walked through the house and out the front door and left. He never said a single word to me that morning. Just walked right out the door. And I thought, “Jerk!”. 

So in an immature effort to get revenge, I ate that plate of food that was set aside for him. Not like that proved anything. It was terrible!!!

A little later, I heard the alarm clock going off again. My sister was waking up and I was getting excited to know that we were about to leave the house soon.

I had turned on the television again, but still there was nothing. So when my sister woke up, she turned it off. Geez.. thanks.

She was late and running behind, and we had to make a few stops before we could reach her work. She was going to be holding a presentation for something that she was involved in. But had to go to the store and the post office before reaching there. Hell, I was just glad that I was getting out of the house!!

The exact and very moment that we walked out the door to leave……… the first plane struck the World Trade Center.

We did not know about it.

As we drove the long roads, my sister had her radio tuned into NPR. But the volume was turned down very low as to make it easier for her and I to talk as we rode together. Two grumpy and tired siblings arguing with each other over silly little things. We had no idea what was going on in Manhattan or anywhere else in the world.

When my sister pulled into the grocery store parking lot, she left the keys there so I could listen to the radio. I was not about to listen to NPR, so I switched it over to 101X. I needed MUSIC!!

There was no music. Only talk. But I was not paying attention to it. Then finally after so many long minutes of commercials, which I thought was weird, the radio station started to play Alient Ant Farm’s cover of “Smooth Criminal” by Michael Jackson.  So I turned up the volume. 

But it was stopped. Interrupted. I thought to myself, “Are they having technical problems?”.

A few moments later, they had repeated their reports that two planes had crashed into the World Trade Center. And then suddenly another voice jumped in and reported that they just heard that a plane had hit the Pentagon in Washington D.C.!!

I heard one of them scream out, “Jesus Fucking Christ! What the hell is going on??”…… live on the air. And I thought “Ohhhhh boy, the FCC is about to hand it to you guys.” 

My sister had been gone in the store for what seemed like an eternity. My mind was not processing what I was hearing. Scattered reports all over the radio station, and they were not making any sense. Nobody really could tell what was going on. All that they knew, that airplanes were crashing into places across the country and that this was no accident. This was no mistake. And I began to realize this too.

FINALLY my sister was walking back from the store. I rolled down the window and screamed at her, “WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”.

My sister just kinda smiled at me with a look on her face like “Oh really? That’s nice.” Why wasn’t she reacting in horror and shock as I was at that very moment when I had told her?

When she got into the vehicle and was hearing what I was hearing, she snapped to where I had been for several minutes: SHOCK & HORROR. She too then realized this was not good, that this was something that was being done to us on purpose.

Our younger brother was in the military and all we could think about was “Well, he’s going to war soon I bet.”

And he did.

I knew that because of this attack that we as a nation were going to get our justice, and that meant through military force. I myself, was ready to go after the bastards who pulled this stunt. But of course they were already dead. I knew though that something or someone was behind it all and they were still alive, and I was ready to go after them!

I noticed later on that there were no airplanes in the air that morning. I kept asking my sister over and over and over again if her workplace was in downtown Austin. I begged her mercilessly NOT to take me down there as I was not sure if Austin was going to be struck by these terrorists as well.

When we arrived, there was a television turned on, and I saw the World Trade Center buildings burning. What scared me so badly was the sight of people trapped above where the planes had struck, and they were hanging out of the windows. Several thousand feet above the ground, and they were hanging on to the side of the buildings for as long as they could before they either fell or jumped.

The vision of those who fell or jumped haunt me to this day. I am unable to watch video of it or look at pictures of people who have jumped or fallen.

But because I was there for a presentation, we went on as scheduled. It was rather quick though. I honestly believe that there wasn’t a person in the room that could actually concentrate on what was going on. Their minds as well as mine, too focused on what was going on and wanting to know more.

It was not long before the television was turned back on to watch the scene still unfolding in Manhattan. More people were falling or jumping and I wondered how in the world they could allow these journalists to film this and broadcast it on LIVE television? Eventually, it would stop. I would see a person begin to fall and then the image was changed to a different viewpoint.

I recall watching from a camera on a helicopter the pouring of flame and smoke from both towers. The repetition of showing footage of the second plane hit the tower over and over again. Then go back to the inferno that was still going. I remember seeing that these buildings appeared to be swaying back and forth just a little bit. Almost undetected by the reporters.

And then they fell. The first one and then the second one. I remember seeing the second tower shake a lot just before it began to collapse, I screamed out “THERE IT GOES! THERE IT GOES!!!”.

I wondered if it was all over with. I wondered if more was coming. I wondered many more things, just like anyone else in America. Who did this to us? Why??

The reporting was non-stop. Even as we went on with our day, it was centralized around a television set. Eventually as it grew dark and nothing more had happened. I wondered how long it would be before we were announced that we were going to war. I wondered about my brother who was stationed in Germany at the time. I wondered if he was about to see more action. But I knew that we would need our justice for these cowardly attacks. I felt a burning deep down that whomever it was that had done this…. was seriously going to get theirs. I just was scared about how much of it would be delivered by my brother and his company and unit and just how much involvement he would have.

And was this going to happen again somewhere else in the morning? Or possibly even overnight??

A few days following the attacks of September 11th, I noticed an eerie absence of airplane traffic and noises overhead that would normally pass over the house every stinking day. There was nothing going on. So silent. After a while of course, that would change and airline travel would resume. 

I laid in bed that very night of the 11th, replaying the vision of the second tower being hit over and over and over and over again. It just would not stop. And then I remember thinking to myself: “I’ve only been in Texas for three weeks and this happens!”. I became even more horrified  because the thought had occured that I was on an airplane just 21 days earlier. A new one at that! It scared me to death to even begin to fathom something happening to me on that day in August. What if these attacks would have happened then? Would I have been killed? Would I have been stuck in Amarillo, Texas without anywhere to go? The thought just crushed my spirit so much. 21 Days. Three full weeks. 

The terrorists wanted to change things. They had succeeded. America lost a lot that day. And there was no real reason for it. All because a group of people who lived somewhere else far away didn’t like America.  

It was probably a couple of months after September 11th that I spoke to my brother on the telephone. And I told him to wipe out every last one of them… if he was going to be deployed. I told him to fill these people with so much lead that whatever area they were engaged with, would be a waste land. He could sense my anger and frustration. And I think he understood it as he felt the same emotions.  

With each anniversary that passes, the memories and emotions and feelings get brought up so quickly. The sorrow of loss, and the anger and contempt against those who did this. 

We have our “Day of Infamy”. We all will remember and know how to answer the question “WHERE WERE YOU ON SEPTEMBER 11TH?”. When I recalled this story five years ago on MySpace, it felt like it just had happened last week. Now that it is ten years later, it feels the same… just a little further.

MILLIONS of us will be able to recall that day and what we were doing. Many of us will share. Some of us will mourn while the rest of us will pray. And as we should pray, think about those who suffered loss directly in New York, Washington D.C., and in Shanksville. 

This nation may cry every September, but we stand strong and will not stay down whenever we fall. We will rise again and again. Each time, we will become more and more victorious in the end. 

GOD BLESS THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!