High Rise Livin, Aint all it's Cracked up to Be

I'm considering moving back from Typepad...

because I'm sick of shelling out $15 bucks a month.

The "Jefferson's" Theme song now playing...

I'm moving to Type Pad...

...because I can.

Because I want control of my life, I want to grow...

I'm scared to death of all that's happening, so what to I do?

I go and screw with the only thing stable...my stupid blogger blog...gity blog blog blog.

Here I go now...breathing on my own...

just watch and see.

Same name...different channel, as Mer-boy says...

Buya!

Crack-heads Need Love Too...Also.

There are things happening in my life, too mystical for my logical mind to comprehend.

With that said...

Slummy calls me yesterday morning to THREATEN me.
Oh yeah, they guy's gone off the deep end and apparently can't do much but dog paddle.

His life is unmanageable...so he believes he'll manage ME...wrong.

So two years of being kind and courteous to this jerk off went right out the flippin window...the proverbial window...the one WITHOUT a storm window on it.

Before I knew what was happening, all the people skills I thought I knew, and or had in my possesion, were gone.

I was back in the hood, standing on my front porch, running the crack-heads off my property...with what can only be described as my best sailor technique. Yes, he broke me...and broke me good! Um, WELL...broke me WELL.

The odd thing about individuals like Slummy, is that when you meet them on their level...whatever that level may be...they seem to give you a curious sort of respect as a result.

Not that Slummy will reneg on his 30 day notice. Not a chance...he was still saying "30 days" at the end of the conversation, but that's just my point.

He was SAYING it, not screaming it. And I was able to let the creep know exactly how I felt about what he was doing...in exactly the words he could understand.

The crack-head.

Of Asian Birthdays, and Fire Faeries

In exactly 26 days, Mer-boy will turn... 8-years-old.

Of course we'll be living in a SHELTER, but in case we aren't, Al has decide he want's to have his birthday party at "The Asian Restaraunt"...that's the name...The Asian Restaraunt.

While your average eight-year-old chooses places like "Chuck E Cheese", "Celebration Station" or the ever popular "Incredible Pizza", my Al wants party goers and celebrants eating birthday cake with chop sticks.

"They have a dance floor mom, and strobe lights!"

What's a mother to do? This is the same child who at six months of age, consistently seperated his toys by color... not primary... but secondary.

And who at next weekends "Faerie Ball" plans on being a "Fire Faerie", smartly adorned in a set of red wings, skirt and multiple ethereal sparkly things...

...because he knows he can.

Channeling Sarah Bernhardt on "My Space"

I have never in my life...with the exception of when I lost my children...had to let go so absolutely as I am right now.

I cannot possibly do anymore than I have.

I am exhausted, the transmission is exhausted, my kid is exhausted...you can put "My kid" before the transmission...I'm just too exhausted to rewrite it.

The ghost of Sarah Bernhardt ...I'm channeling her...

"We're going to live in a SHELTER! Oh my poor BAYBEEEEE! I've worked so HAAAAARD to be a good MOTHERRRRRRR! Why MEEEEEE? Why MEEEE? (Oops, forgot an "EE") How has is come to THIIIIIS...no where to LIVE, no where to TURN? WHY? WHY? WHYEEEE?!!!!!!

...All right...Mer-boy needs to go to the pool today, there's only so much insanity one can expose their offspring to.

Speaking of INSANITY...I put this THING on that THING...My Space...I want to pull it, but need the comic relief. Ok, I'm being completely serious here...

What's up with me attracting people with names like Kaligula, LastOldCowboy, 666, etc.? I'm sure these individuals are great human beings, but it's about MARKETING people...there should be a booming business for anyone brave enough to start it, just NAMING people for My Space!!!

No...but thanks, I have my hands full.

I did allow myself one stupid friend...and I know the guy! Yeah, I'm that weird, in a super freaky, protective of my child kind of way...so why have a MySpace page to begin with? Like I said...it's flippin hysterical. I'm just not that lonely...yet.

Midnight at The Oasis...

...HEAT ADVISORY NOW IN EFFECT UNTIL 7 PM CDT SATURDAY...

THE HEAT ADVISORY IS NOW IN EFFECT UNTIL 7 PM CDT SATURDAY.

ABNORMALLY HOT CONDITIONS WILL PERSIST THROUGH SATURDAY AS
AFTERNOON HEAT INDICES REACH 105 DEGREES...WITH NIGHTTIME LOWS
ONLY FALLING TO BETWEEN 75 AND 80 DEGREES. EXTENDED PERIODS OF
HEAT CAN RESULT IN HEAT RELATED STRESS. DRINK PLENTY OF
FLUIDS...STAY IN AN AIR- CONDITIONED ROOM...STAY OUT OF THE
SUN...AND CHECK UP ON RELATIVES AND NEIGHBORS.

"Mother...is that YOU?"

• I overslept for my "Relocation Meeting" at the housing authority, because there's no airflow to my room, resulting in me tossing/turning/sweating all night long.
• The frustrated liberal arts major, stuck working for the Public Housing Authority, refused to honor AGAIN the 15th (or 74th) letter submitted by one of Al's Specialist's requesting additional space for his equipment, thus allowing me the financial relief needed to buy FOOD for my child.
  (we only qualify for a 2 bedroom voucher, and I've paid the difference out of pocket for this 3 bed, desperate for the space and having had repeated requests turned down, been willing to tolerate Slummy's slumminess)
• I now know every square inch of this town, and I was mistaken...there are 78 Pentecostal Churches...not 74.
• Every house I find that's livable and in a decent neighborhood, is consistently OVER the Public Housing Payment standards by $100.00...at least.
  
• Last, but the most dramatic...I've been doing this in the triple digit heat since noon.

The Federal Government decides the payment standards...how much house will $575.00 a month get a person? I will pay almost $200.00 of that 575...it's not free housing. They pay even less if you rent an apartment, duplex, or condo. It's 30% of your gross income. You see why people DON'T try and get off assistance? You get more if you don't try at all.

At the "Relocation" meeting, like I'm a refugee...I guess am, the mighty frustrated one is telling everyone to hurry up and get a place, because there are major cuts coming down the pike...as in, those just issued vouchers will be cut first.

I'm ready to load Mer-boy up in that stupid SUV... grab Satan the cat...Cooper The Hamster...and head to Key West, where Mer-boy can swim till he grows gills, I can write with Hemingway's Ghost, and Satan can chase Parrot fish into the sunset...

The Welfare Snob

Here's the deal...I'm a snob. I hate to admit this fact, but I am...a big fat snob. The thought of moving ANYWHERE that individuals find it appropriate to leave their trash cans at the curb all week long, thus forcing repeated trips to the street to deposit ones rubbish, makes me ill.

I find cars parked in that same street, let alone facing the WRONG direction, a sign of plain laziness, not to mention the dangers this presents for any children that might attempt to play outside.

I'm a snob...on Welfare. I'm mortified by the utter lack of care people have in their homes. You don't have to be wealthy to care for your home, or yourself. I've been doing this rental house search thing for over a week now, and the conclusion I've come to is this:

We are a nation of apathetic slackers who point the finger and blame rather than step up and clean the car parts out of the front yard.

I'm looking at properties in such hideous stages of disrepair I'm not even sure they're livable. In neighborhoods so invested with drugs you can smell the sulphur when you exit the car, so riddled with crime I wouldn't feel safe VISITING let alone LIVING there.

This is my America.
This is your America.
This is Al's America.

Why? Because no one gives a hamster's ass. These are the dream homes of the post world war two baby boom, abandoned to no one in particular. These are the real casualties of Urban Renewal...left on someones doorstep with a note that says "Please find me a flippin home"

I am stuck between worlds, lost in a concrete jungle town that boasts 74 Sonics and as many Pentecostal churches. The clock is ticking...I'm running on empty, and America the beautiful for amber waves of grain... does not give a crap.

When All Else Fails...Read About Black Holes & Quantum Physics?

I am not a religious woman. In fact, some of my more conservative, fundamental friends... all one of them, even call me an Atheist. Yet in my attempt to explain the pain and loss in this life to Al, I've found myself veering towards the fundamentalist version of a "Slippery When Wet" sign.

The loss of Cooper The Hamster on top of the impending loss of his home, friends, backyard, bedroom, blah, blah, blah. On top of the loss of his dad, on top of the loss of his sister, on top of the loss of his mother for a year-which proved to him, he says, that God did not exist- has just about done Mer-boy in, regarding any belief at all in an omnipotent being of light.

I am methodical, logical, and had it not been for science and the invention of ovulation detector kits, am convinced I would not have become a mother. It was my will that made it so... not any airy-fairy supernatural occurrence deemed a "Miracle" by my 'one' friend.

Then, just when I'm certain the sphere of spiritual enlightenment is all but closed to myself...a hamster restores not only mine, but Al's faith also. In what exactly I do not know...but we gots da feva! Can we get a halelujia?... Halelujia! Can we get an Amen?... Amen! Can we get a...

Cooper The Hamster has returned!

Right through the same hole in the kitchen he exited through 24 hrs ago. Frazzled, tousled, and definately looking as though a common house mouse had had her way with him...but returned none the less.

The hole dear readers...leads into the backyard. The HUGE backyard, swarming with predators able and willing to consume a naive , provacatively dressed young hamster on a hot mid-western summer's night.

And yet...

they didn't.

Cooper The Hamster's Last Ride

So Al...being Al, was packing his toys by color and functionality, and playing with Cooper The Hamster at the same time. When out of the blue, as things in our life ALWAYS come...he had to poop. Twenty minutes later I hear Al scream, in this blood curdling, helter skelter way, that every mother has nightmares about hearing, but usually never has to experience first hand.
"Mom!...C...C...Cooper's GONE!!!!"

OH SWEET MOTHER OF GOD, COULD IT GET ANY WORSE?

Seems that while Al was packing, Cooper The Hamster was sitting in Al's Bratz car. Nature called and the only preventative measure my son took was telling Cooper he'd be right back...While Al was reading Readers Digest, "Mia and Miguel" came on, prompting a speedy finish and a long forgotten Cooper The Hamster in the girlz convertible.

It wasn't until I was trying to get Al to locate his Flip (as in Flop) so we could get out the door to his Dr.'s appointment...that Al noticed the abandoned vehicle...

The flood gates opened, and it hasn't stopped since.

A week's worth of holding it in, set loose by a hamsters dash to freedom while wearing a pink sparkly scarf and six inch boots.

The Tao of Shit...Er Crap

In a song by "The Cowboy Junkies", the title of which I can't recall, she says (paraphrased no doubt)

In times of crisis a man falls back on what he knows best,

a thief to stealing, a...crap, I can't remember the stupid lyrics...

Watever. The point she's making in the song is, when shit get's bad we resort to whatever behavior wer'e the most familiar with. Lying, cheating, stealing...it's human nature. Truth. Deny it and I'll call you a liar.
Lack of faith in times of crisis is nothing new, hello, even Jesus was ...well,...asking why? If you go there. Lately, people are telling me "Just have faith it's all going to work out."
Um...
I didn't have it to BEGIN with, now your telling me I should? Oh, OK. It's that belief in a pupeteer like god that concerns me...you know who you are...as if god has nothing better to do that sit on her IKEA loveseat pulling strings! If I do this, than god will make that happen...or if I don't do...you get it.
I don't have that type of faith, sorry folks. I'm happy if that works for you, but please keep it away from me.

My faith, if you will, involves shit rolling downhill. It involves human nature, reaction to crisis and nothing more. It's about what I choose to do with what's presented to me. It's about side-stepping, if at all possible, the next load of shit.

If you will please, two possible scenarios

Scenario #1
"Is that a load of shit coming towards me...I can't tell, maybe it won't hit me...maybe it's not shit at all, maybe if it IS shit, it doesn't smell too bad. ...but I'm still not sure it's shit, and besides, it's definately not MY shit so it can't hurt me...karmically speaking. I'll just wait here and see if it hit's me..."

Scenario #2
"What the...is that a load of shit coming towards me?...I don't care who's shit it is...it's time to MOVE MY ASS OUT OF THE WAY!

There you have it. My kind of faith. Faith that I will know better the next time. That is, if I survive todays shit- storm.

It doesn't have to be an IKEA, It could be a Valentino...

Oh, I Been Workin' On The Railroad, All The Live-Long Day...

The filing fee for the contempt charges against Al's dad is going to cost me $42...$42 I don't have to formally charge a man for non payment of child support. Child support court ordered in the amount of...sit down...One hundred and twenty seven dollars...a month.

$127.00 a month...he can't pay...1-2-7...127...one hundred twenty seven...SELL PLASMA...fly a flippin SIGN...It's $127.00 a MONTH!

I spend that on groceries in a week. I spend that on gas in two weeks, if we don't GO anywhere. What genius computed this figure? Child support...127...a month...A MONTH! It's not Al's fault the loser isn't working...so they base it on my income...because dumbass (claims) he isn't employed. At what point will mothers stop getting completely screwed for getting screwed...nevah!

Things gotta change Georgie...things gotta change. I don't know how a man so poor he can't pay his child support, continues to live in a $250,000 home...do you?

It's all an "Illusion"

Of late, the story of the little creature clinging fiercly to the rocks at the bottom of the stream has come to mind...apparently I am a clinger...clingon...Klingon. I cling...to just about anything that's bad for me, yet familiar, consistent, and THERE. Oh yes...it's gotten better by all means, but still...I'm a clinging little creature...and this over-priced, poorly finished rent house I sit in... are the rocks.

What's downstream? Who cares! I have these crappy rocks I'm clinging desperately to, leave me be! Nothing could be better than these crappy rocks...nothing I say, now GO AWAY!

So cling... See ya.

Is this how I want to live? No, but I'm afraid. Maybe I'll just let go a little. Nope. No way. My crappy rocks are EVERYTHING I HAVE. Hmmm. Where are all those other creatures going?

Come on...come with us...it's better if you let go...ride the current!

Ride the current! Are they crazy, we'll all be crashed against the rocks and killed! Those creatures are nuts...how can they take such risks with their very lives ... how can they let go without KNOWING what's downstream!

Hey...maybe they're right...maybe these crappy rocks AREN'T all there is in the world...maybe it's just an ILLUSION? I won't know unless I try...

So the little creature timidly released his grip on the crappy rocks...and was instantly smashed to smitherines, dying a horrifically painful and excrutiatingly slow death ..
.
At least that's how I remember the story.

...maybe I should read that book again.

"Illusions" Quotes