I wiped out

Coquettishly is updated. Yeah, I know it’s about time.

I fell this morning. We had another ice storm, a pathetic one at that, and I hit a patch of it and fell down my steps. My steps are wood, so they hold in the moisture and I wasn’t being careful. Luckily, I went down the steps on my back so there were no broken bones. My back is killing me though. And I feel like my ass is one big bruise. I’m having trouble sitting for long periods. It’s awesome.

I saw my little nephew, Colin, this weekend and have a few more pictures. He is precious. My sister is doing very well although she is still quite weak. She lost about 3 pints of blood and is still very pale. They have her iron supplements and told her to eat lots of greens. We gave the baby a bath and then I got to feed him. He even burped for me. After I fed him, he fell asleep in my arms. I held him for over an hour. He was just so nice to hold. Here are some more pictures.


Colin during his bath.


Colin sleeping like an angel.


Colin looking at me before I fed him.


The peanut sleeping in my arms.

I no longer have gas. It was worrying me though. I have a miraculous digestive system and rarely get gas. I could eat a whole vat of chili and it would have no effect on me. I’ve always eaten lots of veggies and it never effects me. I’m not sure why I got the farts, but I’m so glad it’s over. I was grossing myself out.

I watched a little of the Oscars last night and I was so bored I almost cried. Is there any way for us to inflate the egos of these people more? Their speeches were so boring. Their jokes were so boring. The whole thing was a yawn fest. I’d much rather they match the amount of money their dresses, shoes, tuxes, and jewelry are worth and donate to a charity that deserves it. Or they could pick a bunch of families struggling to make ends meet, but are trying, and help them out with the money. I’m starting to find these award shows to be a disgusting display of wealth, selfishness, and arrogance. And so fucking boring.

My mom’s friend gave me two huge shopping bags of smutty romance novels. Love it. Sometimes you need to read rubbish and these novels always make me laugh. And, I must admit, that some of the sex scenes are quite steamy. Yeah, that was embarrassing to admit. Whatever. I like the ones about Highland lairds. Don’t know why. I’m kind of retarded.

I have to lay back down now. My tailbone is starting to throb. Oh, how I love being injured.

Later.

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Let freedom ring?

I never do this kind of thing here. I try not to get into politics here. But, the following 12 part documentary is the only thing I can think about today. I’m asking you all to take the time to watch this.

I am not a conspiracy theorist. I am not an extremist. I am an informed citizen of the United States that has lost her faith in her country and that country’s leaders (all of them) and ,after today, is forever changed..

I have always considered myself lucky to be an American. I’ve always believed in the America our founding fathers imagined. A place where the people are the government. I believe in that dream. I’ve read everything I could get my hands on. I love early American history. I love the history of the American Revolution and how we found against an imperial nation for our freedom. I also believe that now more than ever we have to fight for that dream. We are now the imperial nation we fought so hard to separate from. Doesn’t anyone see that? Where are the real dissenting voices? Where are the real Americans? Are we so stupid that believe everything the media tells us? Do we want to live in a place where we don’t question our government for fear of it? That’s very un-American don’t you think?

I saw this documentary today and it blew my mind. It chilled me. It sickened me. I cried. And it made me feel obligated to get as many people as I could to watch it. Please take an hour of your time to watch all 12 parts of this. I promise that after you watch the first part, you won’t be able to stop watching. I know that many might say that this is propaganda or what not, but isn’t all media propaganda. I’m just asking you to watch this and then to get informed. It isn’t about being a Republican or a Democrat, it’s about protecting what is inherently American: FREEDOM.

Part 1

Part2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

If you haven’t already, please read the US Constitution. It still amazes me that most people can’t even recite the Bill of Rights. It’s sad and probably one of the reasons why we’re in the state we’re in. Get informed. Wake up. Become involved. And stand up for our freedoms.

US Constitution
Bill of Rights
Amendments 11-27
Declaration of Independence

Give Me Liberty, an interesting website.

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Rainy days and no motivation–UPDATED

The sound of the day is ugh.

I slept very deeply last night and waking up this morning was a challenge. I managed to shower and get myself dressed. It was pissing down rain. Dark. Chilly. I got outside and notice that it’s raining sideways. Yeah. I drive to the train station, take the train to my stop, and get off at my stop to walk my million blocks in sideways rain stepping over lakes that used to be puddles. I get to work and my jacket is soaked, my jeans are soaked to mid-thigh and my shoes and socks are soaked. I’m drinking tea. I want to go home and curl up. It’s just yucky outside.

I hardly ever get political here, but I’m going to say Hallelujah to the midterm election results. Finally, a dissenting voice to this administration. I was starting to fear that we were living under a dictatorship. And that lunatic Rick Santorum lost. Nothing made me happier last night than this insane fundamentalist sexist racist woman-hating homophobic ignorant motherfucker going down. Hey Rick, I’ve heard that god doesn’t like ugly and the things you’ve said and done in his name will only ensure your place in hell. May you rot there for eternity, you hateful bastard. There is nothing christian about you. Phew, that felt good.

Sorry, I just think that man is an example of everything that is wrong with this country.

And now, enough of this political shit. I have good news. Kevin woke up last night. I dont’ know much else, but he woke up fighting because he didn’t know he was in hospital. This is wonderful, huh? Maybe all of those extra thoughts and prayers worked.

I’ve decided that I’d like to stroke the ego of y’all and write about the blogs I link to every Friday. I always find it interesting how people found me, so I’m going to talk about how I found y’all and why I love ya. I’m going in alphabetically order and will feature 3 a week. Look out for yours. This may also be a way for y’all to discover blogs that you wouldn’t have found otherwise. I’m spreading love on Friday. Because we all can use more love, huh?

I like using the word y’all.

Check back later for updates because I’m super bored today.

UPDATE: I’m still bored.

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Protected: I think I’m jaded, made a sport of it cause I am numb now to the shit…

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Demons, Ghosts, Angels, Spirits, Faeries, etc…

I watched an interesting film this morning called The Exorcism of Emily Rose. It’s based on the story of a German woman named Anneliese Michel, who died in 1976 as a result of either a mental illness or possession. The film is horrible, but it got me thinking about what people believe is true in the realm of the paranormal/mystical/religious.

I will admit that I believe in the possibility that someone can be possessed by a Demon. It’s no different than those Christians in the Bible Belt who speak in tongues and dance around with snakes and believe the Holy Spirit has entered them. I’ve never seen a demon, thankfully, but I feel like they have to exist. People have been writing stories about them and people have been reporting actual demonic possessions for over a thousand years, so something has be true about it. I’m not saying that every account was actual fact. I’m saying that somewhere in those stories lies the truth.

As far as ghosts are concerned, I’m a believer. In my life, I’ve seen 4 ghosts. Let me explain before you huff and say, “Shit, she’s a fruit.” I’ve never been one of those people that sits in a cemetery and waits for ghosts to appear. I don’t think ghosts hang out in cemeteries. I think that demons are more likely to hang out there. Anyhow, the 4 times I’ve seen ghosts happened by accident and they were resident ghosts that I could do nothing about. And they were not in my imagination because others have seen them as well. Even family members.

• The first ghost I ever saw was my great-grandmother’s. My grandmother lived in her family home which was over 150 years old. Both of her grandparents and her parents died in the house. The place was creepy. I remember as a child being petrified of the upstairs bathroom and back bedroom. I wouldn’t go in those rooms alone. One day I was playing in the upstairs parlor, which used to be the master bedroom suite, when I saw the old woman walk from the bathroom to the back bedroom. I screamed and my grandmom came up the steps thinking something horrible happened to me. I told her that the old woman was there again and my grandmom just laughed and said, “You saw my mommy.” Apparently, the whole family knew that Esther lived in those rooms. My father later told me that my grandmother believed that her grandmother lived in the basement, as she saw a woman down there one time (and it wasn’t her mother) sitting on an old bench. My grandmother knew that it was a special bench that used to be in the backyard and her grandparents would sit on it every night together.
• My second encounter was in my childhood home. It was an old home. We had lived there for many years and my father decided that we needed a cast-iron wood burning stove in the living room and set to installing one. He had to build a chimney and it was then that I saw the man. He would just stand there in the corner and watch us. He didn’t like my dad and wouldn’t come around when he was working. Once the stove was finished, the man would hang out around it most afternoons while we were doing our homework. He was strange looking, but didn’t do anything scary. I asked my mom if she saw the man and she said, “Yes, he likes to watch the morning TV with me.” I never saw the man anywhere else in the house. He would move from one side of the wall to the other.
• The third encounter was when I was 19 years old living in a 200 year old dormitory. It was second semester and by luck I had my own room. Weird things would happen, like things would be swept off of my desk or the curtains would billow out like there was a breeze but there was none. I always felt like someone was watching me in the room. One night, I thought I was starting to become a bit nutty so I asked my best friend to spend the night in my room with me. Just to confirm that I wasn’t losing it. In the middle of the night she jumped up and yelled, “Debbie, someone was breathing on me.” We called the RA into the room and the whole night we watched my curtains moving, shadows on the wall, my closet door being banged from the inside, and the sound of someone breathing. The next semester they put me in another room and I never experienced anything again.
• The fourth encounter happened 6 years ago. I was running around my then boyfriend’s neighborhood, past a very old house. It was October and I think it was in the early evening. So, I was running and in the backyard I saw a little girl swinging on a swing. I smiled and she disappeared right before my eyes. I said, “What the fuck?” and went over the fence. Yes, the swing was swinging but nobody was on it. I later found out that my boyfriend had seen the little girl several times and didn’t want to say anything.

I haven’t experienced anything since then. I don’t think I’m a medium or one of those super sensitive people or anything like that. I just think that I’ve lived in places that have a history. I definitely didn’t go looking for these encounters.

I believe in Angels because it makes me feel better to do so. I have no idea if they truly exist, but since no one has given me any evidence that they don’t I’ll continue believing in them. Miracles happen everyday and I like to believe that instead of these things happening by coincidence, that maybe we all have our own guardian angel that helps us out when we really need it. Of course the argument can be made that horrible things happen to people everyday and there was no angel to protect them. Well, I’d like to think that maybe their angel was busy or knew that sometimes things need to happen for history to be written as it should. Now, I know I just opened up a whole new discussion about predestiny and free will. Let’s save that for a later date.

To me Spirits aren’t really ghosts, but a collective energy of a place or object or person. I’ve walked into houses and experienced a terrible feeling of anger and hostility. There are some places that make me melt with ease and comfort. Call me a freak, but this is what I think.

Okay. Faeries. This is where you get out the phonebook and call the whitecoats to come for me. Listen people. I told you I believed in faeries before here and I still do. Have I seen one? No. Do I go looking for them? No. Do I know for a fact that they’re there? Nope. Just like Jews and Christians know God is there and Muslims know Allah is there and so on. What led to this belief and why is a whole other post, but I will say this: I believe in them like the ancient Greeks believed in their own gods. They invoked these beings when they needed a muse, or patience, or revenge, or justice etc…For example, when the fields were barren and the winter too long the Greeks invoked Demeter and Persephone for they knew Hades had to let Persephone go to return to her mother, Demeter, so that she (Demeter) would stop mourning and let the earth once again be fruitful. This is how I think of faeries. And that’s all I’m saying for now.

All of the ‘beings’ I just talked about have been in legends and stories and folklore for over thousands of years. Different traditions and cultures have their own stories, but in the end they are all the same.

I hope you keep reading after this. I can assure you that I have no cauldrons, pentagrams, or magic potions here. I won’t go all boogedy-boogedy if I met you. I’m just a little silly sometimes.

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Who is she really?

Sleep was my main activity this weekend. Yes, you heard me right. Unfortunately, I had to give in and take 3 Tylenol PM pills on Friday night. It did the trick. I slept for 12 hours. And then I slept all day. And then I slept last night. And then, with the exception of attending my niece’s dance recital, I slept all day today. And in a little while, I will be going to bed tonight. It’s like I’m catching up on my sleep all at once. It’s awesome.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this blog and how people perceive me.

Fresh Air Lover vs. Debbie

Most of you only know me as Fresh Air Lover. You all know my name is Debbie and that I live where I live and do what I do. I think that most of us would admit that in the beginning of our blogs we wrote for ourselves, but as more people starting reading–we started writing half for ourselves and half for our audience. This happened with me too. At some point Fresh Air Lover has become sort of a character. She has her own voice and her own way of dealing with the particular topic or whatever is pissing her off. Now, not to get weird, Fresh Air Lover is still me. I didn’t make her up. It’s just, she’s like my id in some ways.

When I started this blog, I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to write about. So, I wrote about my virgin co-worker Beaker and the sick room girl who looks like Harry Potter. I wrote about silly things. I posted a lot of Happy Bunny’s, which I still find hilarious. But, I wasn’t satisfied with what I thought was crap. I was spewing bullshit everytime I wrote. Even though many of you thought it was funny, I felt like I was portraying myself as one of those silly girls with no real problems, no real life stories. It was rubbish. I did give you all a peak here and there, but I was hiding behind a picture of Gary Glitter.

I’ve kept a journal for years. I made a promise to myself when I was in my early 20’s to be completely honest in my journal, even if it was difficult and made me look like the worst human being in the world. I wouldn’t be afraid someone would find the journal and read it. I just wrote whatever was in my soul. After taking a little hiatus from this blog in February, I felt that maybe I needed to open myself up a bit more. This was a huge step for me because the only place I ever allowed myself to let go was my journal.

This blog is my space to kind of lose it for about an hour. I rant, rave, curse, say vulgar things, bitch, and cry my heart out. I don’t hold back here. I don’t write about everything going on in my life, but I never hold back about what I choose to write about. I let Fresh Air Lover tell about what’s really going on with me. What is behind my polite smile. And she does it well. I have to confess that I feel like a big fruit for talking about Fresh Air Lover as if she’s someone else.

I am actually a pretty reserved person in real life. Those of you who know me personally outside this blog (and there are only 5 of you) know this. I’m quiet, kind of shy at first, a homebody. Once I know someone, I’m not at all shy. I will open up about everything. I certainly have my views about things and will state them in my own special way, but this only happens when I know people really really well.

I’m much more forgiving in my real life. I’m warmer. I’m kinder. I believe in peace in all areas of life. I hate arguing or fighting. I hate going to bed angry about something. I hate ignorance in all of its forms. I’m the kind of person that likes to give hugs to people who look like they need them. I’m the kind of person that takes the homeless guy up to the food cart and lets him get whatever he wants and as much as he wants. And then I buy him more. I’m the person who can’t stand to see someone cry because it breaks me apart. I feel like I have to help them, but most of the time I don’t because I don’t know how. I’m the kind of person that would rather sit at home, snuggled next to someone special and read in silence than go anywhere loud and distracting where I couldn’t savor that person’s company completely. I’m the person that wishes sometimes I could be unaffected by everything going on in the world, but I can’t do it. I cry a lot about things on the television, most of the time the crying is my way of being thankful that whatever had happened to that particular person hadn’t happened to me. And then I feel guilty for feeling that way.

I don’t think any of us portray ourselves exactly how we are in real life in our writings on our blogs. It would be like standing in Times Square naked, every day. Sometimes I feel like that’s exactly what I’m doing, standing there naked, when I’ve published some of the things I’ve written. I cringe. I wince. And then I shrug and know that someone somewhere is reading what I wrote and saying–I know exactly how you feel. We are all connected by our shared experiences and emotions and we’re lucky we have a medium here in which we can embrace each other.

I do know that in writing this blog and letting this character Fresh Air Lover tell my stories for me, I’m more content at being who I am in my nonblog life. And this is why I will keep writing.

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