Shhhh....

So, i have decided to post secrets about myself in attempt to bring my secretive, shady life to an "open

book."I am obsessed with pretending to pick my nose in public.

 

I make snoring sounds when I am not interested in what someone is saying, and somehow think that this is less offensive then just asking them to shut up.

I snarl at boys that hit on me, smirk at guys to shy to, and turn my head away completely when I think a guy is attractive.

Roots, rock, raggae...

Hey Mister Music, sure sounds good to me
I can't refuse it, what to be got to be
Feel like dancing, dance cause we are free
Feel like dancing, come dance with me

You were there

In the softness of my sheets and in the dryness of the air

In the half full glass of water and last night’s left-over hair.

On the pillow right behind me and the sunshine through the shades-
In the stillness of my breath at the start of my day.

In the warmth of my heart as I am humbled by your choice
In the sigh on my lips at the sound of your voice.

I walked, I jumped, and I leapt and fell,
But not without you; you were there.

Dear Miami,

The Saints are coming. And so are we, their loyal, long-suffering and slightly discombobulated Super Bowl-bound fans. While there's still time to prepare -- although a few hard-core Who Dats will begin trickling in Monday, most of us won't arrive until Thursday or Friday -- we thought we'd give you a heads-up about what you
should expect.

First things first: You need more beer.
Yeah, we know. You ordered extra. You think you have more than any group of humans could possibly consume in one week. Trust us. You don't.
New Orleans was a drinking town long before the Saints drove us to drink. But it turns out beer tastes better when you're winning. (Who knew?) So let's just say we're thirsty for more than a championship; adjust your stockpiles accordingly.

And look. When we ask you for a go-cup, be nice to us. We don't even know what "open container law" means. Is that anything like "last call"?
It's Carnival season in New Orleans (that's Mardi Gras to you), and we'll be taking the celebration on the road. So don't be startled if you walk past us and we throw stuff at you; that's just our way of saying
hello.

Oh, and sorry in advance about those beads we leave dangling from your palm trees. We just can't help ourselves.

February is also crawfish season, and you can be sure that more than one enterprising tailgater will figure out a way to transport a couple sacks of live mudbugs and a boiling pot to Miami.
When the dude in the 'Who Dat' T-shirt asks if you want to suck da head and pinch da tail, resist the urge to punch him. He's not propositioning you. He's inviting you to dinner.

And if you see a big Cajun guy who looks exactly like an old Saints quarterback walking around town in a dress ... don't ask. It's a long story.

We know that crowd control is a major concern for any Super Bowl host city. Our advice? Put away the riot gear.

Reason No. 1: Indianapolis is going to lose, and their fans are way too dull to start a riot.

Reason No. 2: New Orleans showed the world on Sunday that we know how to throw a victory party. We don't burn cars. We dance on them.

Reason No. 3: Even if we did lose, which we won't, leaving the stadium would be like leaving a funeral, and our typical response to that is to have a parade.
Speaking of which: If you happen to see a brass band roll by, followed by a line of folks waving their handkerchiefs, you're not supposed to just stand there and watch. As our own Irma Thomas would say, get your backfield in motion.

And hey, Mister DJ! Yes, we know you've already played that stupid Ying Yang Twins song 10 times tonight, but indulge us just one more time.To us, "Halftime (Stand Up and Get Crunk)" isn't just a song; it's 576 points of good memories. It's the sound of a Drew Brees touchdown pass to Devery Henderson, a Pierre Thomas dive for first down on 4th-and-1, a Garrett Hartley field goal sailing through the uprights in overtime.It's what a championship sounds like. You may get sick of hearing it. We won't. Encore, dammit.
 Inside Sun Life Stadium, you may find your ears ringing more than usual. We're louder than other fans. Seven thousand of ours sound like70,000 of theirs.

Don't believe us? Ask the 12th man in the Vikings huddle. Some people think it's just the Dome that heightens our volume. But you're about to discover a little secret: We can scream loud enough to make your head explode, indoors or out. It's not the roof. It's the heart.

Well, OK, and the beer.Don't be surprised if there are more Saints fans outside the stadium than inside. A lot of us are coming just to say we were part of history,even if we can't witness it up close. The Saints are family to us, and you know how it is with family: We want to be there for them, whether
they really need us or not. Because we know our presence will mean something to them, whether they can see us or not.Come to think of it, seeing as how you're taking us in for the week, we pretty much regard you as family, too. So we're warning you now: If you're within hugging distance, you're fair game.
Hugging strangers is a proud Who Dat tradition, right up there with crying when we win.

Most sports fans cry when their teams lose. Not us. We've been losing gracefully and with good humor for 43 years. Tragedy and disappointment don't faze us. It's success that makes us go to pieces.
Hurricane Katrina? We got that under control. The Saints in the Super Bowl? SOMEBODY CALL A PARAMEDIC!!!So anyway, don't let the tears of joy freak you out. We're just ...disoriented.

OK. Let's review:
Order more beer. Throw me something, mister. Suck da heads. Wear da dress. Stand up. Get crunk. Hug it out. Protect your eardrums. Pass the Kleenex. Hoist the trophy.See you at the victory party.

Faithfully yours,

The Who Dat Nation

After a long vaca in Tupelo and a bubble wrapped cruise...Little D made it home.

In my office, in my purse, in the mirror...

I have written about it, offered it up as advice and even regurgitated it to myself but I still need to listen...grasp it. So, for my benefit…

The only way that we can be positive that our lives work the way that God planned, is if we trust him with EVERYTHING.

Solomon gives three times when it is imperative to trust God in Proverbs 3.

1. When life takes an unexpected turn…aka-completely new job that you know will come to an end, having a peace about something that sets your mind in turmoil, and committing yourself to his financial principles even when “your way” seems to be working fine. I know that I don’t have to understand.

2. When you have no idea of what our future holds and yet God has commanded us to trust and obey regardless of how dreary or uncertain. I don’t have to understand, he will make sense of it for me.

3. When you are faced with decisions regardless of how big, small, urgent, long term or minute. If we consult him on every decision, he will guide. God will straighten my path by giving me a sense of identity.

God does not have my life on auto pilot and knows exactly what is ahead regardless of what the instruments read.

While there are walks, jumps and leaps of faith…none of them are blind. God has never failed.

Drinking, Dragging, Skinning, Drinking.

I'm exiting the rollercoaster

Here is to doing what I want.

The freedom to act acccording to our own desires is called compatibilism, because it is compatible with determinism. The bible ascribes this capacity to all human beings.

The bible says "good" people act out of the desires of thier good heart, the wicked person out of his wicked heart (Matt. 12:35). There are times, of course, when we are unable to do what we “want” to do, at some level of wanting (as Rom. 7:15). But in most of the decisions of life, we do what we want, in the face of potential obstacles.

Thankful for a humble memory

I could not have asked for a better seat at graduation. Right in front I sat staring into the faces of sixty-nine students who had finally reached “the end that marks the beginning.” As I looked across the field at the bright faces I began to see anticipation and tears in the eyes of yesterday’s children and tomorrow’s leaders, or at least the next manager of the drive through daiquiri shop. As the ceremony continued I felt a sense of pride arise within me. “God I can’t wait to get out of here” was never a phrase that passed through my lips at that time, or during college, but I often see students confuse petty drama with the sometimes-tedious routine. If there were no school, or work for that matter, what would we go out on the weekends to celebrate freedom from?


As for Christina’s rule of law, starting something means nothing if you don’t finish it. Anything short of a whole hearted attempt is failure in my book. In today’s world, finishing school is not exactly the most difficult thing to do while it remains a necessity paradoxical to yesteryear’s lifestyle of leaving school to support your family. My solution is don’t start a family until God says to and if the one you were born into needs help, work nights.

I have always had a passion for education. I remember lining up my sister’s baby dolls  to teach, preach and sue them.

I will never forget the mixed emotions I felt that day. I was so proud and angry at the same time. There they were, all of my peers sitting in their caps and gowns when I should have had a seat with them. I realize now that it was not my fault that I was forced to endure circumstances that altered my life and personality forever. It is not my fault that I had to leave school to pay rent and buy food because my father and mother temporarily had different priorities. I am just thankful that there were people in my life to help me through it. I was given a second chance at life. When I came back to school, I had lost all credit for my junior year, but I was given the opportunity to try again. I was checking groceries 10 hours a day and stocking shelves 8 hours at night to make enough money to move back and go to school. No one felt sorry for me, and I can honestly say, I no longer did either.

I sat as the name was called that would have preceded mine, Hancock-my best friend. Then there was the silence where I would have been. But I was in the stands watching and finally thanking God that I had stopped regretting, blaming and successfully started over.

Pride was my companion throughout the day. My heart ached when I saw everyone hurling their caps into the sky. I softly said, “well, no” when parents questioned “wasn’t this your senior year?”

This was in fact the very best and worst ever experience of high school, and while I have countless  life altering mistakes and regrets on the books, this single day opened my eyes to a new life. I finally learned how to lay down my pain and get up without it. I had been lying hurt, bitterness, and resentment down on the altar for years; but I just couldn’t manage to leave it there.

There in those stands where I was actually somehow meant to be, I left my anger and tears Maybe I wasn’t ready for the real world yet. Maybe I had to reach a point in my life where I would not let anything or anyone hold me back so that I could break the generational curses of my family and reach God’s perfect place for me in this world.

Four years later, my parents would not watch me graduate from college, but for the first time in years, they both called to congratulate me, which was one of the first of many steps in mending the relationships within my family.
I was given a chance that many people will never be offered. I experienced a Christmas Carol sort of out of body experience; the ever so popular “blessing in disguise” routine. I got to hit pause and watch what life consists of when no one knows you’re watching. Life somehow needed to reschedule my appointment. So, from the depths of my heart, what I really mean to say is “thank you.”

May your accessories always harmonize with your natural beauty

Anthony Hamilton says it best...

We don’t have to worry bout no money to have us a real good time

And we don’t have to leave in the morning the whole day just you and I
And it don’t have to get any better it's perfect you in my life
If you're cool, then I'm cool then we're cool

We don’t have to worry bout no groceries we can fill up on love alone
If we aint got enough for a movie we can just sit at home
Have a lil role play baby wat ever turns you on

If you're cool, then I'm cool and we're cool
If you're cool, then I'm cool then we're cool

Quit your worrying baby (oh, oh, oh)
Quit your worrying girl (you don’t have to worry no more)
Quit your crying lady (gone head and cry)
We can conquer the world.

Pack a lil lunch for the evening
Let me hold you tight
Don’t be worried bout no problems believe me
Everything's gonna be alright

We can shoot for the moon watch some cartoons
Whatever makes you smile
If you're cool, then I'm cool then we're cool
If you're cool, then I'm cool then we're cool
Quit your worrying baby (oh u can 4 get about the prob now)

Quit your worrying girl
Quit your crying lady
We can conquer the world
Don’t worry girl don’t worry girl don’t worry oh you ant neva got 2 worry bout a thing baby
Oh no
Were all right (were all right) hold on hold on
Don’t worry
Ohh forget about the probs in the past
Don’t let em cry u out baby
We can conquer the world we can conquer the world

I Arrive

Since my blog is dominated by the "stuff" of now...i thought i'd take it back a little.

On November 2, 1982, my mother had been cleaning the house all day. After waxing the floors, she lay down for a nap. At 7:48 pm, I woke her up ready to see the world. Forty-five minutes later, I was born. There was no time for preparation or anesthesia. The doctor said that after about five more minutes, I would have been born in the elevator. I wonder if I was just sick of swimming around in that tiny world or if I had planned the surprise attack.


Unusual, they called me. I never took a pacifier nor did I wake up in the middle of the night like most babies. I sucked my knuckle, not my thumb and I would “reason” with my parents on the subjects of pregnancy, divorce and the validity of Santa Clause. I had a three and a half year old sister and an eight-year-old brother. Had I know this, I might not have been so eager to be born. My mother stayed at home to make sure we did not kill on another, and my father began building computers, electrical systems, and built his photography business from the ground up. I still wonder when they had time for themselves…to “make us.” My mother had her son and my father had his “daddy’s little girl,” and I was, well, “the mistake" as my sister had called me. In her own defense, my mother later explained that I was not a mistake, but merely a surprise. I however was not your average naïve child who would actually believe that there was a difference between the two.

I know now that I was frightening to my parents. They didn’t exactly know what to do with me. I would ride my bike to garage sales, buy toys and sell them at school. I stripped lawnmowers and bikes and turned a profit to buy yet something else I could sell. I had tons of ideas for things like restaurants and inventions and coming from a family that eats not much more than some variation of hamburger meat…my squirrel skinning days solidified my place as the “black sheep” of the family.

My childhood memories are littered with memories of being locked in the deep freezer, making a swimming pool with a tarp and a trailer, dragging home dead snakes after swimming in the creek, never actually wearing a pair of shoes, and booby-trapping the house with my brother to bully my sister (he began my Marine Corps training somewhere around age 4). I now realize that my mother never wanted to whip me, although she threatened on the hour and my father would come to my rescue when she did have a rampage with the switch tree. My dad would pretend to spank me and we would giggle in the back room as if my mother had no idea she was being undermined. I am so thankful for childhood that i did have, whether it be short lived or plagued with fighting, relocation and a domestic shelter. While some memories scream in my head, others make me thank God for the support system i did have.  And at 27, i realize that while my parents were not perfect, neither was I.

we do what we do.

So long, Lil' D

This was "little dodge" that rode around in my car with me. At Christmas, my little sister wanted to play with him because "he wanted to ride in the car with her." Sigh...I didn't have the heart to take him back...and now, i miss him.

Luke 6:37

Last night I ate Thai food.

Last night I drank red wine.

This morning I woke up late,

but managed to arrive at my usual time.



I got my usual phone calls,

but one didn’t go as planned,

as for the tenth time someone told me,

how terrible of a person I am.



I put twenty in the “swear jar”

and shoved a Danish in my mouth,

then sent for the state vehicle to be checked out.



I opened up my email,

to send a civil defense,

But the fact that someone told me they know me best,

 so they “can judge me,”

brought me to write this.



I have backed away from men who like me,

I don’t intend to string along,

I have stopped swearing and white- lying

And yet the bitterness is not gone.



I think I know what love is,

Regardless if a “you and I” are to be a “we,”

And I don’t think it is judgmental,

I think it is “shackles-off”, and free.

 

"Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.

Downtown Red Stick

Drinking month old green beer at happy's, running 3 miles in 115 degree (or 20 degree) weather only to end at the "Free Beer and Pizza" sign, and showing the "ghetto photographer" a little love all make sense on third street.

How's this for a resolution?

Prepare yourself.
Perhaps not a total abandonment...but I am going to try and exercise the boundaries of my vocabulary so that I might effectively remove the crutch of too often used four letter words. Sigh. (just typing it was difficult)

Am I asking too much?

I am blessed. I am surrounded by people who love me, spoil me and listen when I need to talk. I have a grandmother that calls me "banjo eyes" just like her dad called hers-big, round and with every color eyes can be.. I have a nanna who emails me, saves every picture of me and tells me she is proud of me. I have a mother that accepts me and has never asked me to change, a father that has redeemed himself completely and taught me that all you can expect of family is the "best" they know.
I have a line of people who think I'm wonderful, even after they get to know me. I'm not terrible to look at, I love people and animals and God. I pray for others before myself and am actively trying to make my circle of good friends smaller, so I can devote myself to a few great ones. I am overwhelmingly hungry for life and I love even the bad days because they are gifts. I try not to be selfish, brag or complain and everyone knows my "hard ass" exoskeleton is only to shelter the heart that drops everytime a baby passes. The "tough-ie" Immediately shatters and falls the first time we share a hug or a beer. I don't love being waited on hand and foot, but respect the person who may try from time to time.
I just want one thing.
I have made pointless list upon list for the perfect man.
I have pro and con-ed my way through tons of "Mr. Might and Maybe's."
I have loved, lusted, lied, cried and cheated.
Sexy, talented, athletic, artistic and hilarious have all kissed me.
But since I was seven, the single most important thing I want has not changed.
I asked my first kiss, date and love. I've begged my short terms, and gave up on the commiters after realizing that someone would have to WANT to give me this one thing.
I realize this must be annoyingly all about "me me me" but that is exactly what it is. What I actually want from someone else that I can ask for, wish for, but only hope comes with the package of my "Mr. Right."
I have for the better part of 27 years only thought consistently of this one unchanging thing that will make me happy. It doesn't have to come now. It doesn't even have to be soon.
I want someone to pray with me and tell me a story before I go to bed for the rest of my life. So, sincerely sighing, I honestly want to know...Am I asking too much.

It has been months...and then, today

Today I woke up with a dull headache. The kind I have gotten every day for the past two years and three months.
I thought about the wreck in the shower, and was thankful that I am a changed person because of it.
That my headaches, short term memory loss and ever aching injuries serve as a reminder that my life is mine to live and it can end at any moment.

Today someone told me that they loved me in purple, that Wednesday I looked amazing. On the drive to work, I couldn’t imagine what purple shirt I owned, much less what I wore Wednesday and wished I could go home for lunch to look through my closet to remember.

Today, someone asked about my scars.
I was shocked because no one has noticed them in months.
I told the story of my wreck, the one everyone seems to remember, but me.
I know what the police report says; “flew in the air, flipped about seven times”
The memories are increasing slowly but still, just the three stand out vividly.
Praying while flying in the air, lying broken in the mud, and a man whispering “this is a helicopter baby.”

Today I thanked God for the eight hundred and eleventh time.