So the pain is increasingly relevant
Where it is long typically prevalent,
And the numb creeping up my left
Draws the wind quickly from my chest.

No money to be made, none to spend,
Don’t listen to a troubled woman’s wisdom.
She knows forever knot what ‘she do’,
Just when you think you rooted, she move.

Always watching, hoping, preying,
Praying for someone in the making
Who shows up right on time as usual,
When the high up moon sings blues’n full.

Won’t someone come check on me?
Won’t someone look in to see?
Always careful what she wish for,
She careful not to wish anything more.

Waiting is torture.

Thankful for everyone who continues to check on me.

The Party Continues

I recently listened to many, many new releases from musical artists or bands that I have loved for years, and I am extremely happy about the new stuff. I think it is so awesome to watch artists grow in their craft and continue doing whatever they were clearly born to do.

I also recently discovered a new republic that is landlocked within these kinda United States, called Slowjamastan. There is a Youtube channel featuring videos, including their national anthem, which vaguely reminds me of something Elton John produced. If you have a sense of humor, it is definitely worth checking out.

I have been able to return to work, but the past two days have left me utterly exhausted and in much pain. I had to leave early yesterday and again today because I just couldn’t sit up in a chair anymore without wanting to dramatically collapse in the floor and sob. Picture Scarlett O’Hara.

I think that’s all the writing I’ll do today.

The Nerve

“Ya know,” she said, unprompted, “something about that guy’s tone just pisses me off.”

I have a lot of issues, as evidenced here over and over, but my issues are thankfully maskable enough so that I can still make an honest living. And I do. And I am proud of that.

I am not proud of the way I sometimes (frequently) react like (as) a very angry and confused teenager. What I do (isolate/run away) really does nobody- including me- any lick of good.

So I have been learning how to admit my fears and problems, confront people and situations, learn from mistakes, act on more informed instinct, manuvuer through countless obstacles and sift through the clicks and met genuine, kind folks.

And I have been lifted (literally) off the ground. The ropes were untangled from my body. The mosquitoes (count all 666 of them) were wafted and swat away from me.

Community is something I have cherished nearly my whole existence. I was known to my church family as the helper, a shadow to someone towering over me, ready to make more copies than anyone ever made in a classic SNL sketch featuring Rob Schneider.

And it is true what they say- it took a village.

My village is changing. And I have to accept that I am hated solely because I definitely did not agree with most policies and opinions constantly broadcast over every media outlet for years.

I am beaten. Broken.
Record’s needle. Tokin’.
Love was, is and will forever be
the only thing that lifted me.

I wonder what’s next. Then again, it doesn’t matter.

What was I saying?


Eight years old.

My S4 is fractured. This makes the third time my lower spine (L1, L2, and L4 previously) has been fractured. The fifth time a rope has snapped and I land on my tail bone or back.

So I know my limitations and am thankful it isn’t worse. The downside- minus the obvious- is that I have missed work and my finances are tighter than they’ve been in a good while. The downside of this thing in particular is that I just happened to have recently been house hunting.

My agent is a friend of mine and former co-worker who can vouch for me in many ways, so I am grateful to her for a number of reasons- but especially for locking me in with a skilled loan officer. Both of them have been very easy to work with, and have made this process almost effortless.

Good news is, we found a house. The location was the obvious selling point for me. I put my back brace on and did a walk through and spoke to both my agent and the seller’s agent at length about the house and the market, etc. We put in an offer that night. They signed the contract the very next morning.

So now, it is pending.

So I, too, am pending.

Where do I see myself in five years?

Enjoying the already existing wheelchair ramp.


I really just want to get back into anime and baking and staying on top of all of my house chores and stop paying any attention to any current events or politics or affairs taking place in the state of Alabama or the city within it in which I reside, or any other present bullshit.

From Biscayne Bay
to Cascade Peak,
Mama’s tired,
Leave me be.

I have injured my back once again- this time it was a fall- and been resting in bed ever since. This has allowed me limitless time in limited space to evaluate my mentality and interests and goals and so forth.

Is this what prison feels like? To long to go blind to the reality around you in order to survive your internal and external predicaments?

What anguish.

I am putting too much time and energy into matters out of my control and, already knowing this, have determined I want this to be far from me.

Mama needs to heal.

How ’bout you, child?