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Transparent to the naive eye, bare, naked to the world...evil lurks. |
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** Image ID #860697 Unavailable ** A bitch that viciously turns on her owner must have been provoked. Betrayed by the one she loved, trusted, needed...her thoughts have become perilous and her actions follow in the full suit many refer to as insane. |
| I browsed a book store recently and found the perfect book. I wasn't in that particular mood at the moment but that mood constantly lingered like a nagging cough. I tried to shake it but it was fast becoming a state of mind, a dirty habit. I wanted to buy the book and retreat in my room with a glass of wine to read it. I didn't have enough money for it. Anger, that lurking bad habit began to resurface. I think I would have prefered the nasty nagging cough. Instead, I put the book on hold. A week later, I was able to purchase the $7.00 book. I opened it two days later. I found the one page, the one answer in one page with the answers to my niggling bad mood, my state of mind that had began to overcome me and my daily routine. This book was the Anger Management book. It was also a workbook! Whew!. I read the one page that explained, with a diagram, where anger stems from. Simply put and paraphrased, it said that anger is the manifestation of bad decisions made. That was true. I didn't like it because the truth does hurt. For instance, I knew that guy that I did some contractual work for from January through November in 2007, was an extremely shady character. Despite my knowledge, I worked his projects anyway. I worked hard believing that he would see my worth and really be impressed. I believed he would see me as invaluable to his dreams, his project specifically. Ha! Silly me. I knew my own worth. I knew my value already. Hell, if I didnt, I had a big fat 70K bill to prove my knowledge, skill and determination. I didn't need his comfirmation. What was I thinking? Here I sit, damned near a year later, broke. I need my money. He has my money. I am angry. I want my money now. So, I get angry for simple things like that seven-dollar book. I get angry at the gas pump. I get angry when my daughter, that is now a senior in college working two jobs and making good grades call me for help and I cant help her. I get angry cause I made the decision to work on someone else's dream and not my own. |
| Dirt-bags and Space Heaters! My goodness! I never realized that being alone could be so hard. Recently, I went to Steins to purchase some soil and mulch. Boy, was that stuff heavy. My beloved husband or son would have picked up those items. One man realized my struggle and put three bags of dirt on my cart for me. The problem was, once I made it home, there I would have to struggle to get the dirt-bags out and then drag them to where I wanted to plant. I really miss having a husband or just someone that understands that a woman has to preserve her beautiful nails and do not need to break them off on dirt-bags, human or otherwise. Wisconsin weather sucks! It was summer like just a few days ago. I was sure that I could put my little space heater away. WRONG! I trudged down two flights of stairs into the dark spooky basement and kindly said to my space heater, "Good ridden!" Well, I guess my space heater heard me and probably knew that I'd need 'him' again. The dirty little dusty rascal was right. I trudged back down the stairs into the dark dank spooky basement, alone, and there it sat with a smirk. I softy apologized to it as I picked it up and ran back to the safety of my kitchen, out of the darkness and spookiness of the basement. Out of breath from fear and running, I paused and posed myself for the next flight. Granted I was not as cold as I had been when I dreadfully sought the warmth of my little dusty space heater, I did not plug him in right away. I moved about getting all setup to watch a movie until a fell fast asleep. The perfect boring night. There were other passions that ran through my head that I could have done, like writing or having mad passion sEx but doing that alone is not all it is cracked up to be either. So, finally, I go back downstairs and make myself a healthy helping of fruit and veggies, something light for a late night snack. By the way, that cucumber was pretty enticing. Anyway, I dash my Italian dressing about, grab some orange juice and head back up. After I ate this and watched the horrid Milwaukee news, I'm cold again. I popped the DVD of choice in, pulled my covers back and plugged in the little dusty space heater. Suddenly, my entire house is dark! I scream and run for the flashlight as if it were a life-sustaining mechanism. Immediately, I turn it on and felt a bit of security when I realize Jason, Freddy Cooger and Psycho Man aren't standing before me. I head back for the basement to trip the switch to turn the fricking electricity back on. Now, really scared sh*tless, I'm slowly trudging back down these damned scary arse stair but now in the dark with the exception of my life sustaining flashlight. I flick switch unknown to me. I panic when I hear a sound. It's only the folk in the next townhouse. I head back up, running again but faster this time. Out of breathe again but satisfied to see the lights on. This must mean that the ones in my bedroom are on too. Wrong. I head back down the stairs to the basement. This time I'm not so scared but more mad. If any of those creepy characters mess with me, the writers of those creeps will finally have their real finale cause I am gonna f*ck them up I'm so mad. I flick switches and curse aloud. I head back up the stairs. I head back to my bedroom. No fricking lights! WTF?! Where is my soul mate? I don't want to have to pick up dirt-bags or use artificial heat. There shoulda been someone here to keep me warm and to pick that dirt-bag up for me. Fortunately, I didn't loose a nail this time. Well, I guess it's better than a human dirt-bag I could have been 'pickin'up' putting the wrong kinda heat in my room. I guess that's the bright side? The other rooms have electricity but not my room. I wonder what kind of fuse did I blow and why. That is certainly not what I had in mind to blow in my, now dark, cold room. |
| Have you ever loved an irritating friend? I have and very recently, like she just left and hour ago. Here's the situation: I have an office where I have several computers setup with broadband Internet setup. She does not have a working computer but is an alleged writer. A writer these days, as we know, really need both the connection to the WWW as well as the ability to electronically format their work. That's just a given that 'we' don't submit handwritten works anymore. Ok, so since I have this and my friend indeed is in need, I offer assist her by letting her come into my office to WORK. Instead, every sentence that she writes, she has to swirl her chair around and stop me from what I'm doing to share this unfinished work with me. Day one thru ?, I'm irritated because what I'm doing is important to me, mainly because it's my bread and my butter. I am the sole bread winner so interruptions are lethal. So, now I have what I see as hostile guest in my home that I invited. Without blatantly saying, "Would you shut the fuck up and leave me alone or leave?" how does one say this nicely? |
| Have you ever loved an irritating friend? I have and very recently, like he/she just left an hour ago. Here's the situation: I have an office where I have several computers setup with broadband Internet setup. She/he does not have a working computer but is an alleged writer. A writer these days, as we know, really need both the connection to the WWW as well as the ability to electronically format their work. That's just a given that 'we' don't submit handwritten works anymore. Ok, so since I have this input hardware and my friend indeed is in need, I offer assist his/her by letting him/her come into my office to WORK. Instead, every sentence that he/she writes, he/she has to swirl his/her chair around and stop me from what I'm doing to share this unfinished work with me. Day one thru how many fuckin days has it been since I've held this shit in?, I'm so irritated because what I'm doing is important to me, mainly because it's my bread and my butter. I am the sole bread winner so interruptions are lethal. So, now I have what I see as hostile guest in my home that I invited. What a fuck up I am, right. Come on and give me a break by not fuckin' agreeing. Without blatantly saying, "Would you shut the fuck up and leave me alone or leave?" how does one say this nicely? Of course I could just 'not' answer the phone when he/she calls to appoint his/her self in my space. Of course I could just answer and say that I'm too busy or that the fuckin' computer that she/he needs to work on has blown up... someone stole it?...endless lies can happen here but why waste a good lie on a good opportunity to tell a friend to be considerate and shut the fuck up and work as a team by leaving the other person to do what they have to do and you do what you have to do and then come together? Shit! I'd like to be honest so that this person understands how to cohabitate with others. I want this because I love her/him. Being that I'm so irritated, I don't know a tactful way to say, 'Shut the fuck up!' Please, if you know a way to say that, email me. sugaree@writing.com Thanks, Sugaree |
| Life is beautiful, especially when you're of sound mind but what is a 'sound mind'? I've been blessed with many ideas that I believe will yield much profit. How does one sit down and concentrate on one idea at a time? I don't think that I'm ADD or anything. Could it be? See, I sat down before my love new laptop this morning with intentions of working on ONE project. Here it is almost 12a.m. and I have NOT finished ONE project. Hmmm. Should I trust the teams of doctors that made a pill for these symptoms? What if those doctors suffer the same way I do and forgot an ingredient? Hmmm. I'll take the zero on that and try again, granted God sees fit for me to wake up in sound mind or simply wake up in the morning. Goodnite. |
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| My dear, dear cousin has fallen prey to yet another asshole. As if it's not enough for her to have had the misfortune to find another rigth after finally getting enough sense and guts to leave the first one is a fuckin' mystery to me. Imagine this though; she is doing it to herself. She creates this bullshit and then cries. Funny, have you ever seen a newborn baby pull its own hair and then cry? Yeah, well, at least they have and excuse however funny it is. The real fucked up part is that she is believes and blames others for that shit. Wow. How many times will it take for this woman to understand that she is her own worse enemy? Well, one day I may have the compassion to break it down to her. Maybe not since she believes, of course by cohersion of the bastard she called herself in love with, that I am a part of that shit. Stupid asses. Have not they something better to do? Guess not. Maybe they need a lesson? Oh, fuck 'em. Who has time for all that shit, especially considering that we are supposed to be talking about educated folk, however coniving they are, still, supposedly professionals. Ha! |
| My dear, dear cousin has fallen prey to yet another asshole. As if it's not enough for her to have had the misfortune to find another rigth after finally getting enough sense and guts to leave the first one is a fuckin' mystery to me. Imagine this though; she is doing it to herself. She creates this bullshit and then cries. Funny, have you ever seen a newborn baby pull its own hair and then cry? Yeah, well, at least they have and excuse however funny it is. The real fucked up part is that she is believes and blames others for that shit. Wow. How many times will it take for this woman to understand that she is her own worse enemy? Well, one day I may have the compassion to break it down to her. Maybe not since she believes, of course by cohersion of the bastard she called herself in love with, that I am a part of that shit. Stupid asses. Have not they something better to do? Guess not. Maybe they need a lesson? Oh, fuck 'em. Who has time for all that shit, especially considering that we are supposed to be talking about educated folk, however coniving they are, still, supposedly professionals. Ha! |
| A dear lover and friend of mine was the star guest of a funeral. A forty-two year old healthy man, a handsome and intelligent healthy man at that. This day is really hard for me. I wish that there could have been something that I could have done to change that one moment of his final destiny. Obviously, there was no way and there he went. My body couldnt make it to the funeral. I guess it would have been just too much for me. I miss him even though our romantic involvement had been suspended until the next time we met. I miss hearing his voice boom thru my phone with some super crazy ideology. |
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