Let’s Make A Deal

I wrote this many years ago and with all the bullshit happening with the killings I decided it was time to share this on my blog. It was in the early 90's and this happened in Northeastern Connecticut. 

When my son was placed in my arms 20 years ago, I had hopes and dreams of a life with love and acceptance around him.  I did not see the difference in him because his skin was a little darker.  I only saw a person with beautiful olive skin.  I watched him grow into a fine young man and a law abiding citizen.  There were times when he was rambunctious like all other children and even though his father and myself parted ways; I made sure he understood some of his Puerto Rican heritage.

After high school he became a Certified Coach for the State of Connecticut and a valued employee at UPS.  He was never a drinker or a smoker of any kind, so why people felt the need to hold their purses a little tighter and pull their children a little closer to themselves has always been a mystery to me and all that know him. A few years ago when my son was riding in his girlfriend’s car they were stopped by a Connecticut State Trooper and were told to get out of the car and empty their pockets.

When they asked why they were stopped the officer told my son to shut up and get up against the car.  They took his girlfriend’s purse and empty the contents and both of them were treated like common criminals.  There were both terrified and confused.  The officer looked at my son’s license and said his name, then said to him “Don’t you know who I am?” Then my son said “Yes, you are the same officer who stopped me for speeding on the Interstate Highway.”  The officer nodded and said “Yes, that was me”.

That time that my son was stopped was because he was speeding. At that time the officer wrote out the ticket he questioned my son.  He asked him to give him some names of any drug dealers in the area.  My son said that he didn’t know any. The officer said “Are you trying to tell me that you don’t know any”? My son said “No, I don’t Sir, I don’t smoke either”. The officer said “Are you telling me again that you don’t know anyone that sells drugs and you don’t smoke yourself”?
My son answered, “No, I don’t, I am a Certified Coach for the State of Connecticut and I coach high school kids. I wouldn’t do that”.  The officer walked back to his car, wrote out a ticket for speeding and told my son “Well then, it looks like I have to give you this ticket”.

Remembering this officer scared my son but he asked the officer again why he stopped his girlfriend’s car and why he was so abrasive to him. He thought to himself that he would push the envelope a little and said to the officer. “Is this because I am Spanish? The officer got angry and said “Just be glad you aren’t black.”

Of course being a mother hen, I took both the kids to the police station to file a complaint. First they took in my son’s girlfriend.  I asked to go in with her and I wasn’t allowed. She came out after 10 minutes and decided not to put in a complaint. Then my son went in and talk to the same officer and when he came out I asked “Did you fill out any paperwork?” My son said “No, they wouldn’t give me any”.  


So the next day my son went in and asked to speak to a supervisor. The supervisor got the paperwork and my son finally got to enter a complaint.  Of course I too went in and spoke with the supervisor who didn’t make me feel any better. He told me that the officer that stopped the kids was looking for someone and that it was a volatile situation.  I said “A volatile situation?” He said “Yes, at any time the officer could have pulled out his gun, so your son was lucky” 

At that point I looked at him took a deep breath and asked him “Do you have any children”? He said “Yes, I do and I still feel that the officers were justified.”

Some people would say “Look at the statistics, where there is smoke there is fire.” I say the only fire is the fire of prejudice and hated coming from a statement like that.  We as citizens have got to change this, let’s start with ourselves and not get caught up in bigotry of any person who is different than what we see in the mirror.

I fear for my son and my heart breaks for all women who have children of minorities.  They are facing a society of bigotry and hate for any person who is different. 

"Lee Brooks"

IT'S NOT MY FAULT - A SHORT STORY BY GOD

It’s Not My Fault

A short story written by God IF he was indeed a man. I believe if God does exist she is a woman.

When life gets them down they look up and say “Why?”
Imagine always being blamed for everything and hardly ever thanked.
I never have a day off. I work 24 – 7. To some, it just isn’t good enough.
Here I am doing my daily things and I hear from below. “Why? Why did this happen?” I look quite surprised. What? What happened? I was over here helping this group and I just can’t keep up. I thought I had been doing a pretty good job on this family in Spain and I found a wonderful man for this woman in Kansas that has been alone for so long. I can’t even enjoy it and then I hear my name and someone is mad at me for something I had no knowledge of. I know I have been quoted as knowing all but really do I? How can I? I am only one being.

My heart breaks when their hearts break, my stomach hurts from the pain of their pain. I need to get more help. Maybe I can send more Guardian Angels but first I need to know where to send them. Sometimes I can guess where they are needed and at other times I wasn’t notified in time or even asked. When something good happens I hear a lot of. “It is about time.” What does that mean? Time for what? Time I did something or you bum, it is about time you did your job!

I need good people to be with good people but the world is so big and everyone is so impatient.  My time is so different than theirs.  I am proud of my good works.  I have done many.  Let man try to create the smell of a rainy day or the sound of silence. One time I actually saved a cat. I love that cat. But it is just an animal one might say. To me every soul is in me. I am only happy when they are happy but they think I want to destroy their happiness.  I guess it is easier to not take responsibility for their own actions. Sometimes their actions are so shocking to me. That is what hurts the most. When something so shocking happens that I can’t even comprehend it and they look up and blame me.

I even have inspired mothers, fathers, family and friends to reach out to their love ones and hold them, love them and tell them what is and how to and they listen and believe and then they turn away and still go down the wrong path.  They know in their heart that the other way is better but it is that darn choice thing I gave them. Maybe I shouldn’t have given them choice. I should have decided for them. I can do that because I am all-powerful. It would make my job so much easier.  Too late for that I guess.

What hurts me the most is when they feel better they forget about me.  Things get quiet here sometimes. Except 911. So much noise, so many prayers. So many thoughts coming with quotes like it was my plan. It happened for a reason. Hey, that was not me.  I wasn’t flying that plane. If I had been I would have landed it safely and not into a building. What kind of monster do people think I am?

They don’t know that I too have work to do and gardens to keep and many times I too would like to lie in the sun and just read a book with a cup of tea petting my cat.  How soft its fur feels to me.
Recently I got a computer and was just overwhelmed at how it all worked.  I was fortunate to have two of my younger Angels come from La Victoria Spain and set it up for me. I wish they wouldn’t wear such skimpy clothes. They showed me how I could save so much time and how I could do so much more. More. There is that word again.  It is usually in the same sentence as need and want.

I guess Thanksgiving is my favorite time of year, more than Christmas.  Christmas is all about presents and the man in the red suit. Don’t get me wrong. It is a wonderful concept.  Giving gifts to loved ones and having family dinners but Thanksgiving I feel somewhat more appreciated.  I hear a lot of dinner prayers that day. Still a lot of help and keep safe but a good heartfelt thanks goes a long way up here.

IT'S NOT MY FAULT - A SHORT STORY BY GOD

MY TOTEM

MY Totem

The hawk comes to you indicating that you are now awakening to your soul purpose, your reason for being here. It can teach you how to fly high while keeping yourself connected to the ground.

As you rise to a higher level, your psychic energies are awakening and the hawk can help you to keep those senses in balance. Its message for you is to be open to hope and new ideas, to extend the vision of your life.

The Hawk is an animal of flight. It soars through the air looking down, and sees everything. It has a larger perspective of what is going on down below. With its keen eyesight, it looks down as it soars through the air looking for its prey. It can see the smallest of creatures below.

The Hawk is known as a messenger, similar to the planet Mercury, for the hawk soars close to the Grandfather Sun, as does the planet. When you listen to the power of the Grandfather Sun or Wise Spirit that lives within, you are protected from all types of harm.

The Hawk teaches you to be observant and take a close look at your surroundings. It soars with the power to overcome difficult situations. It soars in circles over the life of the earth, asking you to circle over your life and view it from a higher perspective.

The Hawk has a distinct cry, one that most people are aware of. Its cry signifies awareness. If you hear the cry of the hawk use your intuitive ability to discern the message and seek the truth.

If a hawk has soared into your life, you require a higher perspective. You need to see the details of what is going on and look at the bigger picture. Take a look at your situation from above.

In representation to humanity, the hawk is called messenger, protector and visionary. Keen vision is one of its greatest gifts. Hawks see things others miss.

9/28/2014 – Back yard carrying its prey – awesome, sat in one of my tree watching me!

IT IS NOT ABOUT THE GUNS - IT IS ABOUT THE ASSAULT WEAPONS

It is not about guns, it is about assault weapons that fire 100 bullets at a time. And these people try to justify that they are good for hunting. They must be terrible hunters if they need that much firepower to knock down an animal. They last time I heard, it took one bullet to take a deer down. The people that seem to be "worried" about losing their guns, are jumping the gun, no pun intended. The people who want to stop this quickly just want to take away the assault weapons. You can still have rifles for hunting; just not assault weapons that belong in the military. If it saves one, yes one child, it is not worth it? How many people do you think the person at Newtown could have shot, if he had to reload?  May I add, whoever took this picture is a fucking sicko. Or doesn't have a girlfriend.

 “No human beings were intended to be hurt in this verbiage.


IT IS NOT ABOUT THE GUNS - IT IS ABOUT THE ASSAULT WEAPONS

HOW I GOT PUBLISHED

HOW I GOT PUBLISHED



My writing happens when I cannot sleep. Then I am at my computer typing away. I always thought of myself more of a poet and have written many poems. I was hoping to write my life story. When I began writing, I decided to practice with fiction and I fell in love with the made up world I was taking myself into. The more I wrote, the more I wanted to keep going and found that in a fantasy world I can include some of my life stories. When I finished I sent my manuscript to the Library of Congress for a copyright. After all my work I was not going to take any chances. 

Like everyone else hoping to have his or her manuscript taken seriously, I looked at different ways to get it done. I visited all the publishing websites. I goggled my search and was happy to see so many publishing companies; however I soon found out that all the "Big Boys" were not interested in any new authors.

The next step I took was to purchase a book on literary agents. I fervently began to write to all of them that were interested in new authors in my genre. I received many thank yous, but no. You know, the standard master letter with your name put in from a mail merge. I continued searching and found information on self-publishing companies. I studied many and found one that I liked. I sent in my manuscript as directed and received a contract in the mail. I was excited but I didn't have the money that they were requesting nor did I want to store a multiple of books, so I declined and kept searching. 

I came across PublishAmerica, who were publishing new authors and also gave royalties, (small but hey, in my mind I only needed to sell one million). I sent my manuscript and within one month they mailed me a contract. I eagerly got ready to begin working with them. They gave me one year to "clean up" my book. I paid a schoolteacher to take a look at my manuscript to check the grammar and sentence structure. How stunned I was at all the highlighted errors and changes I needed to make. I called on a friend who was happy to help me as well and between the two of us; we were able to make it reader friendly. When we were done, I happily added her name as my editor.

I decided that it would be good for me to speak to an entertainment lawyer. I wanted to be informed about my contract. Not only did the lawyer help me with some issues on the names in the book, but he also allowed me to pay him slowly in payments with no interest. Things were going swimmingly for me. The millions of readers were waiting.

The company I used was a good fit. We did everything via email, even the drawings. I never spoke to any one person on the phone and every time I received an email it was someone new. I was happy with this because I felt the more eyes the better. When my contract date came to submit, I was still not comfortable with it. My lawyer suggested to make sure my first book was grammar correct. After it became a best seller, I would be free to write any way I wished. I wanted more time and my publishing company was happy to give it to me. I went over it one more time and submitted. I must stress that patience is important when dealing with this publishing company. They were not quick in answering my emails, but that is the way they do business, so I assimilated myself to their way. 

As far as the cover, I went through five different ones. I was nervous that they would think I was being difficult; however they were very patient and finally I had one I loved. Even though this company had my book on Amazon and Barnes and Nobel, the rest of the marketing was up to me. My true work began and still goes on!

I was able to get on two local radio stations and also visit local libraries. When I sold a book, I included a chocolate bar that had a copy of the cover of my book. I went to my local bookstore and they order enough for me to have a signing. I sold 44 copies, which were to many friends and families. I only sent a few to places like St. Jude's, etc.

At the libraries, I had copies of maps and other things to keep the children interested. I also signed a medium size poster and had a drawing to give it away. One library actually paid me to come and talk with the children. I am realizing that not only is it a good thing to give away a book now and then, but also to know my worth.

I did a search for book reviews and found three that were interested in having me send a copy. I recently notice a review on Amazon, which just made my day. 
I can't say that I have sold a million copies, but I am still hopeful. 

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-chocolate-queen-lee-brooks/1008320137?ean=9781424102594

HOW I GOT PUBLISHED

UNEMPLOYED - THE NEW AMERICA

UNEMPLOYED - THE NEW AMERICA

For the first time ever my job was eliminated. There is a saying “be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.” It could not have happened any better if I had planned it.  I was a reliable employee, my work exemplary.  I wasn’t happy with my job situation but I tried to make the best of the day.  The harder I tried the worse it got. When I first started I loved it there. It was my home, however the harder I tried the more my supervisor bullied me. I was so unhappy, and needed to turn it around. So one day, I just gave up. I smiled more, I did only what I could, I laughed more I relaxed and my inner light felt so warm to me. I was sparkling.  

Then it happened. I called in one day, I did not feel well and my Administrator called me. My job was being eliminated. I felt wonderful. I was told I was also getting a severance pay coming with my pink slip. I started to smile and laugh and thought, “Am I dreaming?”

I know what you are thinking right now. “What are you going to do now, you don’t have a job.”  First cut that chain.  That should be anyone’s last thought. I started to dance to Lady Gaga. I opened a bottle of wine. I smoked a joint! Life had other plans for me and I could not wait to explore them.

Before I go any further let me explain this job circumstance to you. I worked at this place for over ten years and I gave it 100 percent. I worked not only hard but smart. The Administrator decided to send me to graduate college; my supervisor had a problem with me. She didn’t like me and kept a file on me that I found completely by accident. I had to go into her file to get something and saw my name on a file and picked it up.  She had all my draft papers that I had type up for all my other managers. They were drafts that I would type and give  back for changes and then redo. It was never a problem; there were always changes. She kept them and used them as examples to show the Administrator.  All I could think about is that she wanted to make me look bad it worked.  Especially when it came to my reviews with my Administrator. Then it happened. The budget couldn’t afford my graduate college.

And here is where is gets even better. She would ask me to help her with projects and about software programs. She would have me set up an Excel sheet for her. She didn’t even know how. Then she would take credit for it.  She would take a class on a new software program she wouldn’t even use so she could show me and she wasn’t using it, I was the one using it. I couldn’t take the class because… I don’t know why.

She would pull me aside and tell me I was too friendly to people when I was handing out checks. I was just saying. “Hello, how are you? How was your week? Have a great day!”  She said it was interrupting her work, she couldn’t concentrate.  I would just start laughing at her, I knew I shouldn’t but I just was so like, “Seriously?”

The day of true remembrance came when she took my spot. I had a nice area where I sat in the office. When I was first hired, there really was no desk. I made spot for myself. I asked the Administrator if I could use the desk in the corner and I had the maintenance crew turn in around and I made it into an area. After a couple of years I made it into a “home”  One day the little bitch came up to me and told me that we were switching spots.  Then within about four years, I was completely out of the main office and located to a place called “center count.”  It was pretty much downhill from there. I did keep my stapler.

She left me notes all the time too. In red ink. I took them to the beach and read them to my friend.  What a hoot.

It was a perfect time for me to be out of work. I was deeply needed in other places.  I would not have been able to be there if I was working. It was a gift that the universe gave to me to offer my support to my little hood.  I was going to be getting me some good karma.

I had been searching for a job since mine was eliminated and the market was not like the eighties but I continue. I had interviews that went swimmingly and some that were story telling. I have over 200 on an Excel sheet alone and in my folders email I have over 750 resumes that I sent out in the past three years.

I did get a new job and was very happy with it. Of course I am sure there was a few that thought I was a bit odd, but I didn’t care. Most of my friends would say I am a bit of an odd duck anyways.  The job was  a bit of a ride, so I have decided to listen to some tapes. Deepak Chopra was my first journey and a friend of mine suggested Mike Dooley and some books on tape.  They helped me so much that I  forgot all about my ten years at my last job and I started making new friends. I had a new desk by a window and lots of responsibility.  

After one and a half years the company called me to HR along with 65 other lovely people and laid us off.  I was blindsided. I was calm and left with dignity. I told my boss, not to worry. I loved the place but obviously the Universe had other plans for me. The good news is I could collect for about eight months as long as I looked for work.  

I have been looking for work because I do like spending money. I have applied at a few places. I found another job at a place in a few weeks and the money was great but I did not like the building.  My  desk was located in an area with absolutely no sunlight, flood problems, and constant noise.  I was hired as an Office Coordinator, however I was doing Accounting which including daily, weekly and monthly figures for projected hours.  It was tortuous which sucked because it was a great place and the people were awesome. I gave them a long notice and left and started putting out good vibes and lots of resumes and trusting in the Universe. I had always been lucky in finding work so hopefully soon I would find another one soon. Full or part time - anything.

Well now it was over a year, I had a few good interviews but none was a good fit. I had to let it go, and just not worry. It has been difficult to do this but was so stressful to worry and it was amazing how much money I didn’t need.  I did a budget down to the penny and I was amazed at how much money I could not spend. I just needed to control myself.

My husband is retired and for some reason he does not seem to mind that I am not working. After spending a good couple of months doing nothing, watching TV, playing on the net, I was going brain dead. Now I ready to continue with my writing and I can honestly say that this makes me feel so much happier than I have ever been. 

I recently had an interview at the library for a position at my town hall.  They had 26 applicants.  Needless to say, I did not get the job. I got a beautiful letter stating that “While you were not chosen for the position, the decision to select another candidate was a difficult one. The Hiring Committee was very impressed with both your qualifications and your enthusiasm for the position. Based on your credentials and your interview, we strongly encourage you to apply for future vacancies in the Town __________.”  Well readers, I have now applied to about 400 places and went on line and applied to unemployment.

I hope I will get some post from my readers,  a connection that will open up conversations to talk about how your jobs have taken control of their lives and how they found a way to handle it.  Meditation, reading, writing, etc.  How did you handle getting let go from your job more than once? Do you feel that not getting hired was because of that? Or more of an age issue?  Do you feel you were bullied at work and what came out of it?

Last summer I heard a bird a beautiful summer day and the air was so still, the temperature was perfect and I felt like this bird was calling me to find it. I didn’t want to scare it and was curious as to what kind it was.

I tiptoed around my house and looked out each window following the song and found on the maple tree a lovely male Cardinal. The symbol of faith, importance and vitality; I read that these sightings are symbolic of the circle of life and to reminds us to “keep the faith” through circumstances might look bleak, dark and hopeless. I also read that a cardinal’s song is symbolic saying “may we give up our vanity, may we give up our forms, may we never give up our paths” “LBS”

I feel very happy about my decisions and know that they will help me make the grandest choices in my future.  What those choices shall be, I won’t know until I get there. I want to congratulate the younger population reading this, understanding this and traveling it already. You are about to embarked on a wonderful journey. You may not realized it at this moment, and it could take years to.  In another place, reading, sign, moment. It will be when you are ready. Only when you are ready.

I so love this moment in my life and enjoy the people who are in it with me. May I encourage anyone going through this wonderful, yet maybe painful time, to put out your energy and connect with one another. I wish I could wave a magic wand and do it for you. The work is up to you. I can give you advice only. Be open, truthful, honest and vulnerable. When you do this, the connection will join you to another connection.

This connection has no rules. It is not a love connection but more like a path connection. It takes or catches what you are thinking and gives you power, which you give back by recognizing it. When it happens, it is up to us to keep passing it.  Then it becomes stronger.  

“Some human beings may be hurt in this verbiage”

UNEMPLOYED - THE NEW AMERICA

ISIS VIDEO

ISIS VIDEO - HOAX OR NOT?

I recently saw the ISIS video, I felt it was important for me to view it however just my viewing it was mind blowing to someone I know.  I was looked at as though I had committed a murder because I watched it. I needed to see it so I could decide how I felt about what was happening. I wanted to share my thoughts about what I saw, how I felt. I didn't get a chance. I don't like being censor by the media.

After I watched this video I said to my spouse, “hey I watched that video." Before I could go any more, I was interrupted.  “How could you watch that whole thing? What is wrong with you? OMG!!!” Let me get this straight to my readers. I don’t condone this act, and I don’t condone war. This is wrong. I am opening a conversation, not an argument. So I just walked away not knowing if I should laugh or cry. I decided to blogged.

There is so much violence in the world and this video shocker is another. I have an issue with this. Especially in the world of F4s and ISIS's new 33+ weapons. Live by the sword, is my motto, always has been. Lesson I learned in my late 20's, but that's another blog.

If I see someone dropping bombs for days at a time on a country, It is hard for me to  have a deep sadness if that someone gets caught by the enemy. If it is a reporter that is different and of course I feel terrible; that is a pussy move. Bring in the seals.

ISIS did not look like the normal Mideastern skinny men by the way they were dressed, in light camouflage so clean and so buffed. The film was so well directed and the pilot that was “on trial” should get a nomination for his role. Especially his walk when he was looking at all the destruction around him. Watching his walk of shame, he made me feel like, “I did this.” And when he got into the cage, he put down his face, he really delivered. I felt his shame.

Then the camera goes slowly pans to the soldier with the very large torch. It had to be about the size of a tennis racket. He lights the torch on fire. Very dramatically he kneels down on one knee, and takes this huge torch that lights I believe to be some gunpowder that is about 12 feet long. It leads to the cage where the pilot is and then follows in a circle inside the cage before it engulfs the pilot whose clothing is wet with something. The camera showed many angles, from above, the side, it showed the ISIS men standing quietly still in the making of this film.

At this point I am hoping this man dies quickly. It probably took him 45 to 60 seconds before he went unconscious. It must have been terribly scary and painful.   Before the fire happens he has some time to get “right” with his creator. But his victims of his bombing ..not so much. Is this what the executioners were trying to accomplish? And why hide their faces? Oh, I get it, for the deep visual effect. Smart.

Trust me you need to see this video, just shut it off after he gets in the cage and you will not have to see the tough part. The first part he speaks in his native tongue and I cannot understand what he is saying but I believe he is explaining his mission. Then look at the video and see if it looks like this is a masterpiece video. A hoax or deception maybe. Look at how they stand, dress. Study them and see if some of them look other then Middle Eastern.   

 2/4/2015 – “No human beings were intended to be hurt in this verbiage."

ISIS VIDEO

BLENDED FAMILIES

BLENDED FAMILIES

I am from a Blended family. At fourteen, the youngest of three children, my mom re-married and I shared a middle child spot of 8 children with only one blood sister, while my oldest brother was in Vietnam.  I had a new sister and four new brothers, and a man who wanted me to think of him as Dad.  My sister adapted better than me to him. We were NO Brady Bunch.

Blended is such a strange word to me. At the time I was in this home, I was never so lonely. My mom thought it would be a good idea for the older girls to room together and me to have my own room. I wanted to share a room.  You readers may think I was lucky. No I didn’t think so, I was lonely. My father had only been dead a year and the new sister was really cool. And my mom wouldn’t let any of us girls borrow each other’s clothes. Still sound like fun?

The oldest boy had his own room WAY down the other end of the house because he used to be my boyfriend. The other three boys got to room together. Does that make sense? So the “parents” sit me and the boyfriend down and say, “You two are no longer dating! AND you are forbidding going into each other’s rooms!” Great! Now I can’t do that either. Can I go into the kitchen? AND to top off that. If we come in late after a certain time she locks us out. Such fun. “Hey mom, you just lock me and the old boyfriend outside alone together!”

There was also a lot of fighting about religion, they were Catholic and we were not. My mom would go to church with them after she would drop me and my sister off at our local church. That sucked. We were not allowed to go to the Catholic one.  My sister and I had to go to work as soon as we could but our oldest sister got to go to college. She also got a beautiful Mustang, yellow with black stripes. She was generous with it. She would take us all to the beach in it. It was a tight fit and many times a wonderful escape.

There wasn’t much fun in the house except when the “parents” went out. We would take out the board games and play loud music. The older ones would go out with their cars and leave me alone with the three youngest.  That happened a lot. One night I left and they were all waiting for me when I got home chastising me about my "reputation". I was like, “Seriously? You all do this every weekend." My guess is they wanted a babysitter. Nitwits.  How impish they were in their imaginary concern about my status in the local community.

I will say Christmas’s were fun. That’s all I got.  Needless to say everyone got pregnant or got their girlfriends pregnant swiftly to escape the merger. Not me, I was the brave one, I just left.

Let me explain. Back in the 60’s a young woman doesn’t move out on her own. That makes her a harlot according to my “parents”.  I was supposed to stay living at home and coming in before midnight and going to church on Sunday forever until some man came by and purposed marriage to me.  Okay….but what if I don’t want to get married at 18? “What do you think you can do in your own place that you can’t do here?” Oh… that was such a loaded question. So after being stifled for four years by this “parent”  I just opened up and said, “Well, I won’t have to listen to this.”

Now okay I know what you are thinking, but I dead-on swear, I said it with kindness and kindness did not come back. He was so fricking pissed. It was beautiful. It was like the roof came off the house. Snap!  I had studied for a few months on how I was going to afford an apartment and I was ready. I had talked to a mentor and looked into my finances and I had a job, my car was paid for. Everything was good. I kept thinking, “Where is my mom? I don’t even know this dude.”  Every time something significant happened, I had to go to him.  And at 16, I was told to go get a JOB! 

 At 19 I moved out and I never looked back.

My step-brothers did help me move and in about 3-4 months my “parents” knocked down my old bedroom and made the kitchen bigger. Big surprise.  So I did stay as close as possible with one of my brothers, the middle child. He was away from home a lot. He went away to school. Lucky shit.  The others as time went on got married and the wife’s had lots of babies and I really did not have that much in common with. Except for the oldest one.  I stayed friendly with the old boyfriend’s new girlfriend and wife. I still really love her. She is amazing.  When I say boyfriend, we were just kids. We went to a movie, a hayride, hung out a few times. It was really innocent.   Father “parent” was at the movie with us. “Shiver” Nothing like what he had with his next girl.  MY GOD, he could not keep his hands off her. I would have slapped that horny boy!

Back to the Blended thing.  My opinion  to all divorced people out there with children is to stay single until your children are grown and out of the house.  It will not work well.  You may think it is because your children say they are okay but inside we aren’t. I  don’t see anything good about this Blended option.  I have lived it and it sucks. No mother or father loves someone else’s child more than their own. When push comes to shove blood is thicker than water. My “parents” were always fighter about us. What a show! I use to run away.  In the area where the serial killer Michael Ross lived and hid one of the bodies. I hated seeing them fight. I hated the yelling.

One time my mother yelled and threw a knife across the kitchen and at the same time threw my step sister down on the floor. What a day that was!  Shit, get out the popcorn.  It was because of all their pent up anger. We were not allowed to talk about what was bothering us and I was sent to my room for saying I wanted my father who was dead.  Also for my Blends, they as well could not talk about their mom. 

Also when you Blend you must become part of the other Blends family. I call this Step-Blending.  What truly sucks about this is after you become an adult and have a family of your own and one of the “parents” dies, they forget you. They go out to eat and invite everyone but you. They have huge get together and they say, “We told someone to tell you.” You are not important enough to get a phone call. And when the other “parent” dies, you sit in the back.  I didn’t care. My sister did.

I could have been closer to my “parent” if I chose to let him run my life, kiss me while his tongue tried to push into my mouth. When I finally told him to piss off he got so angry he doubles my rent in the house I was renting from him.  Now here’s the kicker. The fucker had my mother give me the letter. And when I say double I mean double.  He was starting to freak me out. One night when I was sleeping he comes into the house. Dead of night walks in with my mom;  I got up and my mom is sitting on my couch so I say to my mom, “Some people have a lot of fucking nerve.” She was offended by my language.  I said, “Mom, it is pitch black and you are IN MY HOUSE.”  My mom says,  ‘ He needed to check the furnace.”   So, I had a boyfriend move in with me and then we moved in with my sister. 

So because of this bull, I did the same thing. I should have stay alone until my son was out of school and on his own. But I did not and it caused a lot of grief as well. Why do men feel the need to knock down and be mean to someone else son like a male lion that kills all the cubs sired by the previous leader of his pride? And what about our daughters? When they become a woman what makes a man think she part of his pack. Let me tell you. She isn’t.  Step back!

If I could do my life all over again I would never Blend my family. I do forgive my mom. We all need to move on. I just need to vent.  

“No human beings were intended to be hurt in this verbiage"

02/06/2015

BLENDED FAMILIES