Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.
- William Makepeace Thackeray

All women become like their mothers.  That is their tragedy.  No man does.  That’s his.
- Oscar Wilde

When I stopped seeing my mother with the eyes of a child, I saw the woman who helped me give birth to myself.
- Nancy Friday

In search of my mother’s garden, I found my own.
- Alice Walker

I miss thee, my Mother!  Thy image is still
The deepest impressed on my heart.
- Eliza Cook

My mother is a poem
I’ll never be able to write,
though everything I write
is a poem to my mother.
- Sharon Doubiago

The death of a mother is the first sorrow wept without her.
- Unknown

Time is the only comforter for the loss of a mother.
- Jane Welsh Carlyle

Thank you for indulging me.  I shall return to goofing off shortly.

via Feministing, blue blanket. A spoken word piece on the trauma of rape, words and video. Triggers abound, so it’s after the jump.

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The Top 100 Things I’d Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord

1.    My Legions of Terror will have helmets with clear plexiglass visors, not face-concealing ones.

2.    My ventilation ducts will be too small to crawl through.

3.    My noble half-brother whose throne I usurped will be killed, not kept anonymously imprisoned in a forgotten cell of my dungeon.

4.    Shooting is not too good for my enemies.

5.    The artifact which is the source of my power will not be kept on the Mountain of Despair beyond the River of Fire guarded by the Dragons of Eternity. It will be in my safe-deposit box. The same applies to the object which is my one weakness.

6.    I will not gloat over my enemies’ predicament before killing them.

7.    When I’ve captured my adversary and he says, “Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?” I’ll say, “No.” and shoot him. No, on second thought I’ll shoot him then say “No.”

8.    After I kidnap the beautiful princess, we will be married immediately in a quiet civil ceremony, not a lavish spectacle in three weeks’ time during which the final phase of my plan will be carried out.

9.    I will not include a self-destruct mechanism unless absolutely necessary. If it is necessary, it will not be a large red button labelled “Danger: Do Not Push”. The big red button marked “Do Not Push” will instead trigger a spray of bullets on anyone stupid enough to disregard it. Similarly, the ON/OFF switch will not clearly be labelled as such.

10.    I will not interrogate my enemies in the inner sanctum — a small hotel well outside my borders will work just as well.

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During all police investigations it will be necessary to visit a strip club at least once.

All telephone numbers begin 555.

If you decide to dance in the streets, every one you meet will know all the steps.

Most dogs are immortal.

If being chased through a town, you will usually be able to take refuge in a St. Patrick’s Day parade at any time of the year.

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I keep taking different versions of this damn thing, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I’ll get a score that indicates I have a heart or something. Alas and woe is me, it is simply not to be.

There are so many things you never saw, never knew, and will probably never know.

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Yesterday morning I put my son on a plane to Florida, after having booked a very last minute flight Monday night. It’s been a rough few weeks, and I know I’m supposed to be here having fun with you guys, but I’ve been incredibly overwhelmed. A great big thank you to Fran and Cathy for being my sounding boards over the last couple of weeks while I tried to work this all out. And, of course, to Jeff who has managed to figure out ways to get me to smile even when I’m in the middle of crying.

I didn’t want things to go this way, but it’s how it had to be. There’s a million things left unsaid and a million reasons why, but it’s just too hard to sit here and write it all down. Weird thing, that. I use this as a means of getting stuff out of my head. But in this particular situation, I can’t really seem to get myself to do it.

I don’t generally have a problem with making the details of my life public knowledge, even knowing that sometimes it’s read by people who have less than charitible feelings towards me. I’ve been extremely open and honest about my life, my own personal brand of crazy, the noise in my head, and everything in between. I write here to keep it all from overwhelming everything else in my life.

But, I think, not this. At least not right now, not while my heart is still bleeding all over the carpet and I just can’t seem to… well that’s a statement better left unsaid.

I need a vacation.

Yesterday’s was darn funny, considering.  I asked for help on a particular project, and was pretty much blown off.  So, I did it my damn self.  Go me!

Although you may be uncertain about your feelings, you still have something to lean on. That something is you. If you want to get work accomplished now, you’ll need to rely on your own practical and efficient manner to do it. Your integrity has come through for you on other occasions and it will again today.

Today’s?  Ehn.  Wevs.

Just because you know where you are going doesn’t mean that you know the best way to get there. You want to be practical because you know that can help, yet it’s difficult to focus your attention on the details now, no matter how important they may be to your strategy. Allow yourself to meander through your imagination for a couple more days before trying to force a decision.

I do so know the best way to get there!  Today I’m being practical -and- attentive to detail.  And, I’m ahead of schedule.  So there!

With all of my whining and complaining in the previous post, I neglected to mention my trip to the DMV on the 9th. Having finally received my new card from Social Security, I wandered up to the DMV to get a new driver’s license. Yes, on a Saturday. Whee.

Waiting in line was, well, you know how that goes. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t a trip to Disney. After I finally made it inside and got my number (somehow I was reminded of a scene in Beetle Juice), Tetris joined me and we amused ourselves with people watching. Sure fire entertainment to be found for the adept people watcher at the DMV.

After what seemed to be about a hundred hours, I was finally called. Bouncing and ecstatic about having my name changed, I hauled myself and all of my documentation to the window. The lady behind the counter was a person I’ve dealt with before. She was obviously having a very bad day the last time I saw her, or a very good day on Saturday, because she was quite possibly the most pleasant person I’ve ever encountered at the DMV. The last time I saw her, she was just as surly as everyone else. Then again, if I had to work at the DMV, I’d probably be surly too.

As she was busy clicking in the computer, she asked me for my old license, which I gladly relinquished. She stared at it for some time, looked up at me, and said, “Never, ever, ever color your hair that color again!” I looked at the picture, and there I was immortalized for all the world to see with some very dark hair. During a bout of depression when I moved to Virginia (long story, see previous blogs for an explanation if you care) I had dyed my hair a very dark auburn. Dark hair to match my dark mood. Since moving up to the DC area from Florida, I’ve done this a few times now.

She looked at my current hair color (reddish blonde, with various shades of highlighting) and commented that the current color (which is my usual color and fairly close to my natural color) made me look about 5 to 10 years younger. I thanked her, thinking that was nice, but she carried on, and on. She proclaimed that I looked like an angel, was beautiful, and on and on. And then asked me where I had it done at. Oy, can we just get on with this, please?

*sigh* I’m too polite sometimes.

After writing down the name of my stylist and accompanying information, she went back to entering information into the computer. She stopped again, and complimented me yet some more. At this point I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I’m not very good with compliments, and do not deal well at all with an onslaught of compliments. It just makes me feel weird and awkward.

Just as I was opening my mouth to ask her stop, she looked down at my hands and whispered, “You really should find a new salon for your nails though, they look too fake.” *blink* I looked up and asked her why she thought that. She told me they were too white.

Uh.

Okay, then.

I don’t have manicures or pedicures done. As much as I’d love to, I simply don’t have the time. So I maintain my nails myself. And the nails that she was stating looked too fake were real. 100% natural nails. Long, yes. Shaped, buffed, polished with a simple clear coat, cuticles neatly trimmed. Yup. But not a single tip or overlay to be found.

I sputtered and exclaimed that they were real. And she smiled at me with that knowing smile, and said, “Of course, dear. Now, don’t forget to smile big for the camera! You certainly look like an angel today, they’ll get a beautiful picture!”

Which, of course, was total bullshit. Tetris cracked me up by giving himself rabbit ears right in the middle of the dreaded “click”. The picture? So funny looking that even the guy taking it laughed.

And the nails? As if to prove a point, one broke the very next day while putting the entertainment center together. And over the next week I subsequently broke every single one of them.

Bah.

Okay, so I haven’t posted much recently, nor really replied to much. I’ve been busy. Well, busy is an understatement. Witness:

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