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Oh Danny Boi: An Ode to America

barbie
DISCLAIMER: Okay, so I'm about to get real heavy not only about A TV SHOW, but OMGZ AMERICAN IDOL LAME! I know this. I know it's "Just a TV show", I know "AI doesn't matter", I know "[you] don't even KNOW him". I know. But I don't care, (well I care, but not just now and certainly not about this). People are people and if they effect me I'm going to talk about it, so either buck up and get ready for some world class emo, or keep on scrollin' baby. But please, no effing snarky, negative comments y'all, not today. I've already cried for the state of things today (YES! Shut it!), I don't want to cry over something mean someone on my flist said ;)




For Danny, and for usCollapse )

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Listen

barbie
Have you ever been at that point where so much is going on that you have to just talk about it so you can clear some space in your head? I had a lady call last night and she was flustered because her bill was overdue. She was explaining to me why and it threw me though the largest loop. Evidently her daughter was in the hospital after having been stalked and raped by her ex-boyfriend in front of her daughter. She tried to tell her daughter to leave the room, but the child insisted that she was not going to leave her mother.

This was not the first time as the last time produced a new grandson for the woman, but this time was most painful since they'd gone to such great lengths to hide their daughter from this terrible man.

"The next step they tell us is witness protection, but then I'd never be able to see my daughter or grandchildren again. I don't know what to do!"

And there was a silence. It was odd, because we both knew I didn't have the answer, but we also both knew she wanted me desperately to give her one.

"I'm so sorry all of that has happened to your family. If you don't mind, I'll certainly keep you in my prayers." Then I told her something she could do to waive the monthly payment until they got this issue settled and wished her the best.

"Thank you sweetheart, and listen, take care."

"You too ma'm, please have a peaceful evening."

I'll probably never talk to her again, but it's mystifying the outlets people will create to ease their stress, even a little. At PayPal I hear tales of people on their last legs,

"This business has to be profitable. This is my last chance. My husband was so controlling, and when the kids were out of the house I finally got the courage to leave him and make it on my own. This has to work."

"Your site is lovely, and you've already had so many orders. I'll do my best to make sure your transactions run smoothly."

They ask me all the time for answers I couldn't possibly have, and then they mold the ones I give them into the ones they want. Which is fine. It's just interesting. The things that make us human, the connections that we can forge with strangers on an anonymous 5 minute call. The phone beeps into my ear and as I'm giving my opening spiel I wonder whatenture I'll get. Will there be yelling, cursing, crying, or joy? Will it be easy? Will they hear me and if so will they listen?

My phone scores are through the roof, but my emails suffer a bit. One sided banter was never really my strong point, even here the comments are usually the most interesting. I'll work on that and get better, I know, but until then I'll listen, and I'll research, and I'll only charge per hour what the companies pay me, and I'll be there.

SSM 8am - 9pm, TWRF 2:30p - 11pm.


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Crazy Deranged? Meet Eff the Police...

sang!
Despite being tailed and followed by a police officer for 2 miles, and then pulled over AFTER I EXITED THE INTERSTATE, and then told that I was getting a ticket for "Not slowing down fast enough", and then (and only then) proceeding to tell the woman that she was a pathetic excuse for an officer if she felt that stalking me and ticketing me for the marginal 1-6 miles I was over the speed limit (THAT WAS 55MPH ON A MAJOR INTERSTATE! THAT I WAS ONLY GOING TO GET AWAY FROM HER!!) was in any way related to highway safety of any kind, I'm not nearly as pissed as I should be.

And I've had the framework of a pretty pissy day. Let's go through it, shall we?

11:30pm - Get off work late because I get the last call of the night, which also had the pleasure of being the longest. I get to Ronnie's about 10 minutes later and am greeted by her 3 year old daughter who wants to see me off to sleep.

Awww!

A: Night Night!
S: I love you, but go to bed!

I get her good and tucked in with her mom and try to get a little snack before I hit the sack at about 12:30am.

1am - A. (coughing... then crying). I think it's the other baby and go to her room. It's not for a good minute (it was late y'all) that I realize she is fast asleep and that's A. craying. Awww I let her mama take care of it.

As I'm leaving little A.'s room I overestimate the amount of free space between me and the wall and turn directly into it. Then I become the world's greatest camoflage artist as I blend into the walls, holding my breath and hoping the baby doesn't wake up.

She doesn't.

2am - 4:50am - That night (morning, whatev) I dreamt in vivid colors. Red, orange, and green, and when it got exciting it turned to pink plaguing my perceptions as the mixture of tart and sweet dazzled my neurons.

I dreamt of Joey and I was mad at first that he interrupted my Kool-aid dreams and didn't even bring any sugah, but my heart settled into a gentle melancholy as the conversation between Joey and I progressed.

It was odd, because I knew what I should tell him, but I couldn't. It was before his trial, and I couldn't get out why jail would be good for him. Why incarceration and separation from the church and state would benefit him.

I think it's mostly because it wouldn't, but it would benefit everyone else.

5:30 - To Omaha. I originally had Tank, but decided to switch to the High School Musical 2 soundtrack so I could scream Fabulous and Bet On It at the top of my lungs while soaring down the highway.

6:30am - 3:45pm

Work was pretty great, and lunch was good. Everyone acted nice and generally nontoxic though black men still will only acknowledge me when other men of color do. The thing I want to point out is the time I left. Again, I had the last call and my GOD this woman! She.. she was just... you know those people who don't pay attention? But like, to life?

There was nothing right on her account, and her issues were becoming frickin' hydra heads of promblematic situations. "Oh? You want to remove money from your account? Sure, all you have to do is verify your identity and then- oh, you put the name under your business name? Well, you can't do that. Oh? You did anyway. And you paid no attention to the sending limits on your account? And you don't have a credit card? .......Okay, let's see how I can help!"

And so on.

So because of her I ended up leaving 45 min late from Paypal (PAID!), which was okay, but meant I would miss my mid afternoon 40 min nap and chance to get something to eat before my six hour shift at Cabelas.

So I'm heading home and I'm envisioning my American Idol performance of "Bet on It" (and y'all? It's FIERCE!) with special appearance by Zac Efron and that's when I get pulled over for "Give your money to the State of Nebraska" day on the highway.

Overall I'm in pretty good spirits. I'll take the stop class, and I'm pretty sure the two years have passed so it should be fine (let me reiterate, the two years BEST TO HAVE PASSED and it SHALL BE FINE or ELSE), it's just increasingly annoying.

I'm just coming to terms with the next stage beginning. I still have a lot of past baggage, but doors are being opened where others were closed. I miss Bacon every single day (/stalker, I know), but I've started talking to Jamie more and have made what may be some fun friendships in the process. My training will be over soon and my mentors and trainers are really impressed by my work so I'm getting great constructive feedback at work. I didn't even want to scratch anyone's eyes out at work today, and you know how hard that is for me sometimes.

All in all, life is hectic and busy and crazy, but it's moving and that's the important thing. I'm moving forward and... I don't know, MOVING! I know that's not so huge to you big ballers, but it's new for me and I'm liking it.

I'm going to try my best to flist like crazy tonight, I hope all are well. Greetings to the new folks who have friended me, I'll be making my rounds soon enough.

November is NaNoWriMo which I don't think I'll be doing, but I will be using the time to edit the crap out of my Gaiety so if you're interested in betaing let me know. Otherwise I'll be waxing poetic and/or pontificating on a great many ponderance so stay tuned my lovelies!

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On How Things Are...

barbie
Effing busy!

Schedule:

M-F (until Friday):
Hotel: 8am - 4:30pm
Cabelas: 5pm - 10pm
Sat: Cabelas- 8 hr shift
Sun: Cabelas - 4 hr shift

M-F (after Friday until Nov)
Paypal (in Omaha): 6:30am - 3pm
Cabelas (in Lincoln): 5pm - 11pm
Sat: Cabelas- 8 hr shift
Sun: Cabelas - 4 hr shift

After Nov I will be doing three 12 hour weekend shifts at Paypal, working during the week at Cabelas, and probably picking up a part time day job in the process.

Umm, so if you don't see me around, that's where I'll be.

And evidently STILL replying to comments on the Vox post! Phew, that's been fun, but utterly insane. Otherwise in the meantime I'll be updating about whatever. Whether it be people whose parents got warm and cosy (somehow even in Mississippi...) with each other during the month of February, or awesome Heidi and her bodacious boob job (seriously? I love Heidi), or an episode of whatever tv I'll get to watch on some lonely weekend (I have GOT to get my schedule figured out before American Idol), you'll be hearing something from me.


Anyhoodle, the other day I was having a conversation with Christo about all the mothers in his office. Evidently another just announced her pregnancy and I asked if she were married. He laughed because he knows I'm uber Christian and he assumed I was about to start a "UNWED MOTHERS BEYEST THOU DAMNED TO HELL!!!" rant. His predictions were not unfounded, earlier he'd written a post about never having been Baptised and I appropriately went into Christian meltdown panic and began planning a flight so I could go and sprinkle holy water on him undetected, "Zah? Nope, just a spot of rain. I know we're inside, you simply must get this roof fixed!". Then the five seconds passed and I remembered he wasn't too keen on God in the first place so it really didn't matter and boy wasn't I being silly?

This time, however, was not me being ludicrously and overtly Christian (YAY GOD!), but more about being yet another product of a broken family. Now before you get your boo-hoo rags out (don't put them all the way back in, I'm just saying there's more to come), I will make note that I had a great dad. He wasn't the best, but he always made an effort to be available and my mom was very accomodating in that she let me see him whenever I wanted. He was though... absent. And never financially stable enough to help my mom and I out any, and all around me the stories of the children were the same or even worse.

Some never knew their fathers, some knew their grandmothers as mothers and their mothers provided as fathers, seeing them every other weekend when they came to bring "Big Mama" some money. Some yearned for attention from their dads or to even have one at all and a few were envious of what I had. I do wish sometimes I'd appreciated my daddy more. Even though he didn't live with us he was always good about showing affection and treating me like he loved and adored me.

The problem is that life without a father in the home became a way of life in general. Now I'm not saying at all that a woman a) needs a man in the home to survive, or b) a woman should have any man in her home. I'd rather go manless then to have some trash trying to play daddy to my kids or having them grow up thinking that you need a man to make it in the world. You don't. It's always nice to have one, and if you have a good one keep him and cherish him, but don't go looking for someone to fill the daddy void in your soul, you know?

Anyhow, as I said, this became a normalcy, so when people tell me that they're pregnant, I automatically wonder about their situation. I had a friend whose best friend kind of went out of control and I thought they were going to Britney her kids from her. "Oh my goodness, are they going to put the baby in foster care? Are you able to take care of her? What about her grandparents?" He interrupted me and was all, "God Stacey, she has a dad!" to which I replied, "Oh yeah... people have those these days don't they?"

My daddy passed away back in '04 (it doesn't seem nearly that long), and though I see several families in the same condition, I am starting to see more men step up and be fathers to their children. The state of man is hard at best isn't it? So much to contend with just in the definition. I was watching some show and they were ragging on this guy for using girl's product in his hair and wondered how I was able to laugh so freely at it. I had a friend in college who was very effiminate and went to great lengths to prove he wasn't gay (which is funny because evidently being gay makes you less of a man, even though in order to be gay you have to have twice the men in the equation, right? He later came out.) which included knocking up about three different girls in the process.

He then skipped town to SanFran and still sends the requisite child support checks and the birthday cards. One of his daughters opened a card while I was there and looked at the $50 bill that fell to the floor. She mumbled under her breath, "My daddy's a fag." and... what do you do then? Her mom laughed nervously and scooped her up taking her from the room. Probably explaining Daddy's lifestyle choices and that we shouldn't say things like that about anyone, especially people we love. The value of "inside" words, whatever. But it's weird the things you can hear when other things are said. Instead of "My daddy's a fag", I heard "My daddy's not here. I wonder what he's like? I wonder if he's happy? How can he be happy without me? Why does he like men more than me?" You could see the foundations for a lifetime of man-on-man hate forming all due to the simple absense of a being who is a bit overtapped on testosterone.

Don't worry, I'm not trying to make any points, just rambling. These are the things I think about, and the things I'll be thinking about until I hit DC soil next April. We'll see.


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He was trying to say "Illiterate Fa-Vicks"

barbie
It's a portmanteau for fans of Michael Vick.

*nods assuredly*

Two things, first this:

Jerry Lewis 2007 MDA Telethon: Hour 18

The video was removed (though it will show on CNN 6,000 more times I'm sure) and Jerry apologized.

There's been some discussion over whether he was actually saying "faggot" or perhaps something else, and whether Jerry is a full fledged homo-hater or a man who is simply a product of his time (which there is such a thing, regardless of how trashy it is). Rob has a post investigating the spectograms (that's probably incorrect) of certain words and whatever it was Jerry Lewis said. Personally I think he was actually saying "Illiterate fag-eh- no" since we're being technical about it.

Or rather, if we also want to be realistic, he was saying "fag". However, I think through the circumstances surrounding the event you can also tell one of many things:

1) This was the attempted incorporation of a joke he didn't invent, but one he'd obviously heard-

2) a really long time ago. Not in the sense that the time frame made having inappropriate materal acceptable, but in that he'd had it rattling around in his brain long enough to not quite remember the middle, but know he had to get to the killer ending before the senility set in.

3) In fact it's safe to say he completely forgot the meat of the middle and just started throwing stuff in. You can see the mental gears turning,

"And here's your.. 'was it cousin Jimmy? He was the little brother I thought. Uncle Joe? Ah who cares, fake it till you get to the punchline, it'll kill them- did I just say 'fag'? oh-' -no."

It was then that you realized,

4) It wasn't Dean (DEAN!) who'd told him that joke, but instead Dean's insanely racist and Xenophobic (France is merde!) cousin from rural Virginia that they pay in beer to keep hidden.

5) The reason Jerry forgot this was.. well pretty self explanatory. Dean's cousin was a jerk, and you know how much the French love Jerry Lewis.


All in all I think it was a silly joke that just went horribly wrong. I don't know about the ramifications. If he'd said, "And here's the little nigger shoe shine boy" you'd best believe I'd probably have Jerry on a spit. Or I may just have sympathy on this old man (who evidently? Still alive! Who knew?) who was trying to raise money for unfortunate children and bring smiles to the faces of the world.

I'm guessing he'll be wanting one pretty soon.




Whoopi!

So Whoopi joins The View and decides to make a little splash. Only thing is, it was pretty tame. Suddenly WHOOPI SUPPORTS MICHAEL VICK!!! MICHAEL WAS CHARGED BECAUSE HE'S WHITE!!! WHOOPI TURNS THE VIEW INTO RACE DEN!! SHE'S ALREADY OUT OF CONTROL!!! WHOOPI SAYS BLACK PEOPLE LIKE KILLING DOGS!!

Seriously y'all, chill. Now I haven't said anything about the Michael Vick situation because a) I don't care that much about a1)Michael Vick, a2)dogs, a3)this country's justice system being fair or not, a4)idiots, and a5)Michael Vick being an idiot and fighting with dogs and this country's justice system. I care not one bit, but suddenly it became very important that Whoopi cared and what she had to say about it when honestly it wasn't very much.

The gist of what she said is that in the deep south dog fighting is a lot more common than you'd think. Dogs are not nearly as much for pets as for sport or work there. In many families there is no such thing as a dog being part of the family. A dog is a dog. She said that you could kind of see the light come on when Michael realized this was a very serious issue and not just something he could shrug off.

Now we know the dog fighting in and of itself didn't get him in too much trouble, or as much trouble as the illegal gambling did, but it will forever place a negative stigma on his image. Dog fighting is terrible if only for the inhumanity of it. I mean really? Is all of that necessary? Swinging dogs from chains clamped around their jaws to make them tougher, starving them, making them brutal. Many of these dogs are raised to be so vicious that when emancipated from this life of fighting they have to be put down because they become a danger to society. It just seems so ridiculous until you're a young brother looking to make some cash. Those fights pull MAJOR bank and if I were a person of lesser scruples or income you can believe I'd have Tinkerbell in the next match.

Anyhow, no where through this was Whoopi excusing Vick's actions or even standing up for him. She simply noted that it was an example of a low level culture shock. CNN and MSNBC made it look like she was wearing an airbrushed t-shirt with his likeness on it.

So in conclusion, Jerry's old and should put an era limit on his jokes, and Whoopi thinks that cultural differences are interesting. I'm off to my second job and can't think of a way to end this cleverly so I'll just leave you with this:

Cleverly.


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I'll be praying for you...

barbie
whether you want me to or not. ♥

A good eljay buddy of mine is going through some OMGWTF$$$ type woes and in the comments I said, "I'll be thinking good thoughts for you." They then came back with "Why don't you pray? I'm not religious, but I know you are." After awww-ing and rolling around in gooshy sweet sentiment I replied, "I was going to anyway, the phrasing was just in case you were offended by that sort of thing". I was going to add, "Like stinky smart boys who stink!" but I don't want them to feel like they have to choose sides, ahem.

Anyhoodle, it got me to thinking. Ever since said stinky smart boy who stinks posted his stupid manifesto likening intercessory prayer to masturbation (because he's just that gross, and that's not me trashing him, he'll tell you the same) I've shied away from my usual "I'll be praying for you!" comment because it's just easier to insert "good thoughts" then to have to explain, "No, I don't think you're incapable of praying for yourself, no I don't think God loves me more, no I'm not invalidating your religion, no I'm not calling you weak, I'm simply just asking God to give a little on your behalf."

I find praying therapeutic. A way to let go of the stress and just give it to God to deal with. I've known people who could barely lift their eyes much less their voice unto the heavens to be heard. I believe they appreciate a prayer on their behalf. I believe and have seen the power of intercessory prayer, I believe in the addage that there is power in numbers. I like to think God appreciates the dedication and organization that goes into a good prayer chain.

One of the blessings of establishing relationships online is you can find your exact polar opposite and learn and experience them in a way that may not be available online. I can learn more about atheists, and libertarians because they have a presense online that is notably lacking in Nebraska. We have plenty of gay people, but finding out and proud gay people is a different story. The whole cis/trans/etc movement is one that was pretty completely foreign to me and it's interesting seeing their struggles their champions, etc. Thing is, if I want people just like me, who believe what I do, it's a pretty easy phone call, if I want to see the other side of something I travel online.

This is also part of the curse, because a lot of the people I hang out with online and I can agree on a great many thing, but when we disagree it's on the top 6. For me that's religion, abortion, race, gender, politics, sexuality. I've learned a lot, but many times I've gotten into monumental roes because we simply could not see eye to eye on a matter, and one time it even involved something neither one of us could forgive (he thought I was an imbecile for being Christian, I thought he was a monster for some of his activities) so we parted ways which was sad but necessary.

Point is, rather than hear some rambling rant about praying being this great insult to humanity and it means nothing and no one who says it is ever serious or thinking of you (and I know this sounds like it's ripped specifically from stinky boy who stinks' rant, it's actually a pretty common notion which is sad in great quantity) I just tell them I'm lighting a candle and praying for them anyway.

I pray God's blessings, sometimes I pray for peace of mind, peace of soul. Sometimes for patience, sometimes for strength, just depending on the situation. Sometimes I pray for guidance, sometimes I pray for leniency and understanding, but regardless of what I pray for, I always pray.

I pray for you, and I hope you'll pray for me too.


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barbie
EDIT the 9th:
beyond_the_six keeps the flame burning!




EDIT the 8th:

Oh now they're just being silly:

lj fanfic sillinessCollapse )



EDIT the 7th: Wii! SPARKLE TEXT!!!!

Aww, Fujisama goes to bed...



More editsCollapse )



Eljay is At it Again

And again

And again still
**(It makes me sick when they use the term "permanent suspension", the whole point of a suspensions is that it's temporary you dolts.)**

Now the only fandom I really claim is TWoP and not only does that barely count (just barely), but I'm not going around slashing the recappers and fanarting the posters. I just get all up in its business. That said, I don't really begrudge anyone their right to fandom. Some of the stuff they do is a bit questionable, the chen, the chan, the tenticals, the rapefic and crackfic, but still, if I don't want to see it I don't. There's a whole antiyaoi movement (which I vehemently oppose! heh) and someone asked the question, then why are you there? Seriously.

That said, I know for a fact that the comms hosting this stuff are usually a) friends only, and b) really stingy about the age of their participants. I don't understand the need to just ban them. Why not input a warning system, let them know exactly why they've been banned. I think it's ridiculous anyhow, and the only kids you're protecting are the ones whose parents do know about their online activity which, not your problem eljay. It just seems like a case of folding to an organization that obvis has WAY too much time on their hands.

What say you?

(Man I'm discussy today, keep up peoples!)

RIP Tammy Faye

barbie
Tammy Faye Messner dies at 65

Everyone knows the joke of Tammy Faye. Being the disserviced wife of a swindling so called man of God, the mother of a rebellious "anarchist", the eyelashes, the scandals, Surreal Life. We're all familiar with the spectacle that surrounded her mirroring the spectacle she seemed to make of herself, but as with anything that we consider strange, we looked away and forgot to dig deeper. To find out why she made herself up the way she did, why she stood by her husband and fought the fights she did.

I was one of the ones who looked away until I saw her interview on Larry King. She sat there, emaciated and gasping for air, but there was an aura of warmth and loving and peace that surrounded her that nearly penetrated the tv screen. I thought a little about it, but the impact of that interview really hit me when I saw it on Rich's blog over at FourFour.

You all know my struggle to connect my love of gay with my love of Jesus and for orthodox Christians it's not as easy as saying "the Bible is wrong". Life altering decisions have to be made and to hear Jim talk about his mother's emotional crusade to spread love regardless of orientation was heartbreaking and poignant. Really if there's any answer it's that, and until a lot of us find that loophole that's all we have to go on. I appreciated Tammy for being the beacon to show us there is a way.

I emailed the article about her passing to Rich. Some of you know my church's mother passed away a couple of nights ago, and back in April I lost my spiritual grandfather. I told him it was weird to have so many staples of Christian love dying and leaving huge shoes to fill. Forcing those of us who'd been coasting along to stop being scared and stand up. To stop looking for a role model and start being a role model.

RIP Tammy Faye, my heart and prayers go out to you and your family and all of those you influenced during your time on this Earth.

YouTube Clip:




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Mother Effing Son of a Bisquick!!

barbie
As you may or may not know, I don't cuss. I do however realize that people around me do and so I'll incorporate cussing into my writing for other characters, but never for myself. Of course the biggest reason for this is church. There was no point in getting in trouble over something senseless so why bother? Really, if I was going to get spanked (and everyone in my church was allowed to spank us) it was going to be because I was kissing a boy or pulling LaTonya's hair, not because I let a bad word slip.

So it stuck with me. There are a few words I'll say because I didn't realize they were curse words. The first time I ever heard the word "bastard" was on Kindergarten Cop and with Ahnold's accent it sounded like "bastid" so I went like the next two days exclaiming, "BASTID!" to everyone and everything.

I was a nerd, yes, we've established that.

It wasn't until my foster sister said, "Stacey, I thought you didn't cuss?" that I realized the error of my ways. Still though, it was funny so I pull it out from time to time. The other word that I will say is "cunt" which I never thought was as terrible as a lot of people assume. I think bitch is FAR worse than cunt. Cunt just seems like a British person with a Scottish brogue exclaiming about their inabilities "I cunt due et! I cunt due anyfing!" (there's a British man with a Scottish brogue inside my head who is rolling on the floor laughing at the accuracy of my portrayal, feel free to join him).

I didn't even like saying "hell" unless it had to do with the location, mostly because as a child the concept of Hell was so real to me that "Go to Hell!" was the ultimate offense. I wouldn't wish hell on the worst person in the world, how could people be so nonchalant about it? I was a cute little church girl, completely naive to the fact that there were people who actually didn't believe what I did. I'd heard of other religions, but I thought they were just being rebellious and would eventually find the way back to God as dictated through Christianity. Yes, I know it sounds silly, but really even today the concept of true Atheism bewilders me. I can't imagine just thinking that after we die that's it, being satisfied with never knowing what our purpose is.

But I digress. So one day I was at school sitting at the lunch table wasting time and telling jokes. Some kid said something, and to this day I can't remember what it was except that it included the word "fucking" and I repeated it. It's funny how my memory works. I can't remember yesterday, can barely remember anything before seven (my first kiss), but there are times I can remember every single detail of a situation so vividly. This was one of those times. I remember sitting there laughing and then I started to speak, at the time I didn't even feel the word come out of my mouth, can't hear it, but I know it was said.

"Stacey! I've never heard you say that word before!" Tammy Lynn Wynette gasped and brought her hand to her chest in semi-faux flabberghasted manner.

"I know... and you never will again." Yes, it was that intense, and so was I. My mind was made up. I wouldn't follow the footsteps of my peers and just throw words into the wind, I would stand up for lingual purity and demand the participation of my friends while around me. From that time until I was sixteen I was a noncussing force to be reckoned with. Profanities were met with my trademark sneer and chastisement,

"You're so much more smarter than that. Think of five words to replace the one you just used, mmkay?" And the kicker was I got away with it! I don't understand how I didn't fully piss people off and draw them away, but give the flock a shepherd of stability and they will follow. It was pretty awesome, I was such a different girl then. Ruthless, not uncaring, but unwilling to put up with even the smallest amount of BS. This was before I started to lose everything, so I had a strong connection of family, church family, and friends. It didn't matter what any random person thought of me, because I had stability underneath me always holding me up.

I miss many parts of that girl, but that's another post entirely. This post is about what happened at sixteen that made me see cussing in a new light. Now, before I tell you this story I must clarify that I've never thought as cussing as a gateway to adulthood. The reasons kids shouldn't cuss is because they are still developing their vocabulary. Cussing is about emphasis and accent, not about just throwing something out there because you don't know anything else to say.

Abbreviating words doesn't make me a kid, it makes me sensitive to the fact that although I don't cuss, I'm accomodating your need to. This whole "We're adults! We can say what we want!" movement is a fallacy because being adults means we know better than to always say what we want. Really, if you're going to cuss, just do it, but don't jump on me for not doing it and don't think I'm not doing it just to show you up. I don't cuss because I don't want to. I'm far too corny to pull it off and I like to be an example that you don't necessarily have to cuss if you don't want to. I think that's the most adult, being in control of your choices and sticking by them.

Thank you for listening to my sermon, if you'd like to throw a couple of dollars into the collection plate for the building fun (read: gym membership) please feel free.

So, when I was sixteen I started dating The Boy (and by dating I mean "making out in the church basement and awkward mutual handjobs (evidently he got his fingering tips from The Wood and/or porn so it wasn't comfortable and it wasn't sexy. I remember one time coming up for air and yelling, "Get your hands out of my crotch and just fondle my boobs, God!" Man he sucked, but he was CUTE!). Can I also interject what it is to be a true church kid? Like, I know some of y'all went to church, but that doesn't mean you were "chu'ch kids". Our weekly schedule went a little something like this:

Sun: 9am - Sunday School, 11am - Morning Worship, 6pm - YPWW (Young People Willing Workers), 7pm - Evening Service/Communion
Mon: 7pm - Choir Practice
Tue: 6pm - Usher Board Meeting, 7pm - Home & Foreign Mission (AWESOPME Bible study series, I learned so much during these services, and they were interactive and I'd ask every question under the sun)
Wed: Free day mostly, unless there was a special practice for Youth Day every third Sunday in the month
Thur: 6pm - Sunshine Band rehearsal (little kids), 7pm - Children of the Kingdom rehearsal (juniors), 8pm - Step chain/liturgical dance, etc
Fri: 7pm - Friday Night Service
Sat: 6am - Morning Prayer

If you had a schedule anything like that? You know what it is to be a Church Kid. The church literally becomes your second home. You discover all the secret nooks and crannies, you can walk it with your eyes closed, you know where you can go to cop a quick nap undetected, or where to kiss a boy without being bothered. The sanctuary was sacred, but the church was our community center. So when I write about making out and doing nasty thangs, yes, I know I was wrong, but at the time we thought it was fine. Whatever, you guys suck.

So, where was I? Oh yeah, so one summer The Boy came to my house and we started kissing and messing around. He was on top of me and I knew he thought he was going to get some, but I also knew better and that he'd already given some to this skank we both knew and that he did so without protection so he wasn't getting any from me, but a little kissing couldn't hurt, right? We're grinding and moaning and necking and then he kisses up my neck to my ear and whispers,

"I wanna fuck the shit out of you."

HO-LY CRAP DOCTOR COX!

"What? What did you just say?!" I pushed him up and he's hovering above me on his arms with his hard dick grinding between my legs and his breath is hot and his eyes are on fire and he says to me,

"I said, I want to fuck (he lightly kisses my bottom lip) the shi-it (this nigga effing LICKS THE TIP OF MY NOSE, I think I went a little crosseyed) out of you. And I know you want me to, so why don't you open these legs so I can see your pussy cry."

Alright y'all. Let's... let's come together (not like that, or maybe..) okay? Like... alright, so here's the thing. Umm, it's not that I'm a whore necessarily, or that I like it when dudes, umm. Okay, look, we're just going to put it out on the table. At sixteen years of age, with a seventeen year old hunky adonis over me, that? HOTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!! HOT! Like, OMG I might just not be a virgin at the end of today hott. Like, maybe I should get pregnant so I can have him forever omg did I really go to psychoville that fast hott? Is this what sex does to you?

"Yeah, you have to leave." I start to get up but he lays his bare chest on my heaving one and- did I mention we were naked? I've always been a big girl and really didn't have issues with it since it was obvious. I knew I had a figure and I knew I had big breasts so it was cool. The only time I felt it as a bad thing was when I saw The Boy's other girlfriends, who were usually of the blonde petite category, and I could never suss why he messed with me, except that maybe he was in love with me, though he'd never say it. Anyhow though, I'm usually very modest, I've seen every single one of my girlfriends and family members naked but they've never seen me in less than and bra and panties. I don't know what it is, but I just always feel odd exposing myself in that manner. Except with him. I could be completely naked with him and not care and his body told me he enjoyed it so I was fine.

"You know you don't want me to leave, your nipples don't want me to leave." he said as he began to make his way down. I was saved by the bell, the phone rang and it was my mom telling me she was on her way home. I rushed The Boy out of the house and quickly cleaned up. I called him later that night,

"Say that thing you said to me earlier."

"What? Over the phone?"

"Yeah." And I loved it. I'd watched porn before so I knew about cussing in sex, but it was always so brut and gross, "Take it you filthy bitch! Suck my dick you fucking slut!" (I don't know why I had access to that kind of porn or how, but looking back I really got a twisted view, it was either this or romance novels, or gay sex, or Nancy Friday). Then I met a dude that could cuss you out and make fools cry and he used this power wisely and provided me with lots of entertainment. The first girl I heard actually cuss was Nina and she would cuss dudes out and make them want to kiss her in the same breath. I always thought that was funny.

I still never cuss, I never got into the swing of it and again, I just don't think it's for me, but I don't really mind when other people do. My one thing is that I don't like being cussed at "Fuck you!" will get you slapped (or internet slapped if it's an online buddy), and I don't like being called bitch at all. Everyone I know so far has respected that, even without really knowing it which is fun. I recently got into a fight with some guy who yammered on about bullshit and whatever but he never called me out of my name and he didn't cuss at me. I'm glad that's the default around me.

It's still fun running into awkward situations where cussing is permitted but I still won't do it. I remember one youth day I was reading a scripture that had "ass" in it like three times. You should have seen me,

"Then saith the man unto his DONKEY, did not you profess these things to be true? Did these words not pour out of thy mouth oh DONKEY? For if a mere DONKEY speaketh the Holy Word, how much more so should I? The proprietor of this DONKEY." Those aren't the exact words, but you get the gist, and the pastor nodded reveling in the power of the Word and my mom just looked at me and shook her head, and all the kids in the choir giggled causing me to giggle.

There's also those moments when my mom cusses and it throws me off. She was a church girl but got into some secular hottness in her teens and twenties so every now and again she'll slip up.

"Yeah, then we got into a little fight because we called him "The B" and he didn't like it so-"
"Wait, the what? You called him the what?"

"'The B', Mom. Like, B-i-t-c-h, a 'B'"

"Oh! You mean bitch?"

"Well I certainly hope so now."

"Now who was being a bitch?"

"Stop saying it!" Then there was a time when my mom called me, completely reamed me out, and then called back a few minutes later all,

"Sorry I was being such a bitch to you earlier." and I was all,

"Oh my God mom, it's okay! I mean, you weren't being that, you're my mom!" She's hilarious. When I was telling this story to Ronnie, Ronnie was all, "your mom cusses, but you don't?" and I was like, "well, yeah."

And that's pretty much the answer I'll always give, and when someone asks me to elaborate, I'll tell them to get a nice cup of hot cocoa, cause I have a story to tell.


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On how I am right now. This moment.

barbie
I'm exhausted. I lie and say it's a happy exhaustion from a wondefully fulfilling weekend, but the truth is that I've been tired for a very long time. Nearly years. And when I say exhausted I don't just mean tired, but frustrated, run down, unhappy.

And everytime I get to the place where I think, "Yay! Things are looking up!" something happens to let me know, "Yep, but not for a very looooooonnnggg time". And that's just... exhausting.

I've been trying to post for a while now, something, anything, but nothing comes out. I want to write reviews and tell you about my weekend and tell jokes and post pictures, but I can never bring myself to do it. I want to read recaps, and critique plays and exercise and go out and I won't. I fallen into a malaise where anything productive is like a toxin to me that my body rejects. So I sit and become more tired and fatter and lazier and more and more exhausted.

So what now? If I know what the problem is why don't I fix it? Well dear blog readers, these traits are not the problem, but are instead the side effects, the symptoms if you will. Defining the problem is much more trickier.

Last week I literally talked a boy off the ledge. It was the scariest thing I've ever had to do in my life. Sitting on the phone with someone on the other side who was ready to leave this world and trying to stall them. Wondering if that's all it really is that you're doing, a stall. Later I spoke online with a girl in very much the same predicament, and I didn't know what to tell her other than don't.

And I tried not to be selfish, tried not to be "Don't do this because I simply cannot handle this right now!" but that's how I felt. I mean, naturally I don't want her to die because she's not ready to die and the world is not ready to lose her, but at that particular moment she especially couldn't die because I would not be able to deal.

Perhaps she would have liked to hear that? That her dying would kill me? But to believe that I would have to believe that I matter, and I believe I do, but I never know how much. Being an only child in a family full of brothers and sisters is tough, but it's my reality. It's one thing to be the black sheep, but it's another to be the baby, and not quite sure of when you're supposed to appear grown up.

My brother in S.Carolina thinks I'm mad at him because he wasn't there when I was a baby. I'm not, and I tell him that, but he begs me to forgive him for something I don't care about. And that kills me, and I know it would kill him to hear about it, but I don't care that he wasn't there when I was a child, because I don't know him. He has an entire other family, those are his people. This is not to say I don't love my brother. He's my heart and God knows he tries, but... in my heart, I know he's next. So I've always kind of subconsciously detached myself from him.

We see him every few years, and that's enough. He's a functional alkie, he's great at instilling pride, all week long, "You know we gonna make it, and why? Cause we're Goodlett's!" I was doing my niece's hair and she told me not to burn her. I told her that even if I did it would be okay because why?

"Because I'm a GOODLETT!" She yelled and I burst out laughing. We're all very close, but now where there was once peace lies a quiet desperation. We hug and kiss and lay in each others arms spiritually clinging to what's left. My niece cried at her graduation party because she missed her dad, my brother, the heart son of my mother, the son of my father who also passed. She missed her auntie, my sister, best friend to her brother. She missed what should have been there but wasn't, and clung to what was left. Us.

We were watching Hannah Montana (yes, I'm about to cull something poignant from the Disney Channel, to make it extra special this part includes Billy Ray Cyrus) and the son was getting the silent treatment from his father (the Cyrus). The son finally broke down and said "I'm just a boy who misses the sound of his daddy's voice" and it was extremely corny and my nephew jumped on my back and as I body slammed him onto the couch I tickled him and said, "Who do you think you are? Are you just a boy that misses the sound of your daddy's voice?" and I stopped suddenly because I realized that he was. And I almost cried right there.

He laughed and said whatever the next line was and I smiled, kissed his forehead and then put him in a headlock while dropping him back to the floor.

What was this about? My memory is getting so spotty, I'm forgetting easy words and hard words and when things happened and how long they lasted. My mom asks me the same questions over and over again. I'm trying to move out as soon as possible because I know I'll have to move back soon to take care of her.

I don't know. Is this what blogs are for? I can't keep a diary, and I'm never satisfied to just know something, so I have to tell someone and right now that someone is you. This is how I am right now, I may let you know what happens tomorrow.

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