ramblings.

i am so tired today.
i don't know why,
because my fat ass sat around all day until it was time for me to go meet my teacher at school.

/sigh.

we are going home this weekend.
yay!!
i can't wait.
i'm missing my family.
while we're there,
we're gonna get to see some of my friends.
i LOVE my friends,
they ROCK!!

honey made a horrid egg salad today without forwarning me.
that was just WRONG.
i opened the fridge and thought i was gonna barf right there.
that shit smells god awful.
i'd rather smell a pig's fart.
yuck.

i cant wait to get my hair did.
cut & color this time.
woohoo!!

anyways i cant think of anything else to say,
so i'm out like a queen at a Bette Midler concert.

to my bella.

more than you'll ever know.


I know living with me ain't always easy
I dam up emotions some men just let flow
But girl when you're not by my side I feel a part of me has died
'Cause I love you more than you'll ever know

More than life more than I've ever loved before
It's absurd and beyond words
I couldn't want you more
And when I try to pour my hear out to you
I'm not sure it shows
That I love you more than you'll ever know

I'm sure you've heard it said hearts have windows
But mine has doors a painful past has closed
Unless someday they open wide revealing feelings locked inside
I'll love you more than you'll ever know

More than life more than I've ever loved before
It's absurd and beyond words
I couldn't want you more
And when I try to pour my hear out to you
I'm not sure it shows
That I love you more than you'll ever know

Even when I pour my heart out to you
I'm not sure it shows
That I love you more than you'll ever know
Yes I love you more than you'll ever know

state of grace.

ah, what can i say?
i did a lil gardening,
a lil shopping,
a lotta procrastinating,...
and i feel better.
about damn time.
one weenie's losin his balls,
while the other (hopefully) is losing the shit breath.
all on the same day.
goddess help me,
i'm not gonna know what to think or what to do
with a weenie free house.
gah.
tonight i had to do the strangest thing.
i've come to realize that my dad's mom won't write the letter
to the coroner requesting the toxicology report.
so i did it.
it felt SO ODD to write the following:

"My name is Sarah F. Anderson, and I am the eldest biological daughter of Richard R. Anderson. My father was killed, alongside his wife (Terry Anderson), on December 26th, 2007.
I am requesting a copy of my father’s toxicology report, as I am curious as to what his blood alcohol level was at his TOD."

odd as shit.
just looking at the words typed on my computer screen,
then thinking about the action itself...
i'm writing to the coroner for my genetic donor's toxicology report.

i think part of me has concluded
that i am glad i wasn't close to him,
because i'd really be losin my sanity right now if i was.

after a self imposed week long break from all that hate filled chaos,
i called to check in on her.
i think she thrives on the pain.
maybe its because that's the only thing she can feel.
people can get addicted to pain.
i don't know.
theories abound,
no concrete evidence to prove otherwise.

right now, i am okay.
i am surrounded by my loved ones, friends, and family.
living in my own state of grace.

googlie bear.

so i'm getting a lil better.
i dropped my Bio 101.
i didn't want to do that,
but in that particular class,
memorization is a pivotal point of succeeding that class.
especially with the grade that i strive for.
and with all this SHIT going on inside my head,
it just is not possible right now for me to devote the necessary time to the class.
my doctor complied with my wishes about elevating my medication's dosage.
my side effect is a toned down version of tourette's jerking/spasms/ticks.
i can feel it so it feels very obvious to me,
but another person can't really see it...
so atleast i don't look too Corky-ish.
i am in the process of finding a suitable, sane therapist for my much needed counseling sessions.
patience.
you know, i am coming to realize that relationships are an amazing thing.
obviously it can apply to romantic (relationships),
it can apply to familial and friendship relationships.
i am so unbelievably grateful and appreciative of my wife.
she has soothed my soul during this hard time
in ways i cannot even begin to describe.
i know without a doubt, unequivocally that i am loved by that lady.
my love and appreciation for her runs so deep into me that it flows through my soul.
my friends,...
friends who have been there from the start of it all...
it is those friends who i hold most dear.
it is those friends who have willingly and selflessly provided warmth and compassion to me during this time.
true friends are hard to come by in the god forsaken world in which we habitate.
i am blessed to be able to say that i have quite a few of those,
and not only that,
but i have friends who've been there for years and years on end.
people who love you don't restrict you or push you down.
they accept you for who and what you are and only want the best for you in life.
i have all of that.
i don't know what i did in my past life to have deserved this,
but it must've been great.
thank you to whomever is up there.
thank you for my life,
for my love,
my family,
my friends,
...and begrudgingly,...
my dogs.

progress.

doing better.

yay!!

looking forward to this weekend.

friends know how to make ya heart smile.

air.

god bless reba.

thank goddess.
i FEEL it.
good emotion.
i was scared i wouldn't be able to find it soon.
let the healing begin.
i can feel it inside out.

"love revival,"
"beautiful disaster,"
and "how blue."

wonder years.

remember back in the wonder years,
in our childhood,
the tilt-a-whirl rides at the fair?
that's what it feels like.
the world is spinning just a lil bit too fast for me,
and has me somewhat disoriented.
i just want it to slow down,
just to get my balance.
the realization is that it won't.
yada yada yada "the world aint gonna stop for my broken heart."
this is change,
and change is never ending.
from beneath the murky waters,
i can see the hands reaching in to pull me up.
pulling me up for a breath of air,
for life.
i don't understand this darkness.
i don't like it and wish for it to vanish.

i am dazed and confused.
humans sustain life by performing behavior patterns.
in a sense, it can be deduced that to have a pattern is to have life.
even down to an atom,
a strand of mitochondrial dna...
its all patterns.
and as ocd as i am when it comes to patterns,
i cannot find that pattern of stable footing.

so many thoughts...
am i being too hard on myself?
am i using this as a crutch?
am i too happy about this?
am i too disapointed?
is my anger correctly placed?

in a way, i feel alone, but in a way i don't.
no side of either family gets my position.
one submerged in denial and the other in resentment (and rightly so in the latter).
my honey has not left my side,
holding my hand,
and lending an ear.


joe cocker springs up in my ear,
and i think its the perfect way to end this blog.


With A Little Help From My Friends
(Lennon/McCartney)

WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I SANG OUT OF TUNE
WOULD YOU STAND UP AND WALK OUT ON ME
LEND ME YOUR EARS AND I'LL SING YOU A SONG
I WILL TRY NOT TO SING OUT OF KEY

I GET BY WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS
I JUST KEEP TRYING WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS
I WANT TO GET HIGH WITH MY FRIENDS
I JUST HOLD ON WITH MY FRIENDS

WHAT DO I DO WHEN MY LOVE IS AWAY
(DOES IT WORRY YOU TO BE ALL ALONE)
HOW DO I FEEL BY THE END OF THE DAY
(ARE YOU SAD BECAUSE YOUR ON YOUR OWN)


CHORUS

(DO YOU NEED ANY BODY)
I NEED SOME BODY TO LOVE
(DO YOU NEED ANY BODY)
ALL I NEED IS SOMEONE TO LOVE


CHORUS

(WOULD YOU BELEIVE IN A LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT)
I'M CERTAIN IT HAPPENS ALL THE TIME
(WHAT DO YOU SEE WHEN YOU TURN OFF THE LIGHTS)
I DON'T SEE MUCH

CHORUS

(DO YOU NEED ANYBODY)
I NEED SOMEBODY TO LOVE)
ALL I NEED IS SOMEBODY TO LOVE

CHORUS

composing grace.

its like a parasite, really.
it keeps sucking and sucking until there's nothing left.
i wish it'd just go ahead and damnit just die.
die like him.
i hate that i am in mourning for a monster.
i fucking hate that.
i even hate mourning that two bit trash he called his wife.
i feel like harry in that one scene where lord voldemort sucks the soul out of harry with his wand,
the scene where that white light comes up and out of harry.
it kinda feels like that.
but in slow motion.

i keep referring back to my tat on my back.
"strength."
i previously thought i embodied that notion.
but this...
this situation has brought me to my knees on the inside.
if i was still a kid,
this would be when i merely wiped the dirt off my knees and ass and got up to carry on with the damn thing.
but here there is no dirt.
i wish the memories were dirt,
so that they could blow away like a desert sand storm.
blown away into oblivion to never be recalled upon.

i know in my heart going to the funeral was the right thing to do.
i was supposed to have done that.
i told myself i was rising above the past,
that this was right.
my presense was right.
but i also know in my heart,
that had the roles been reversed,
he wouldn't have shown his face at mine.
that pride.
it can do funny things to a man.

i can't say that i now feel like an orphan,
because i have steve.
but the one man that i pined for,
i pined for his love,
his affection,...
he is gone.
what a coward that mighty lion was when he tried to drive home that night.
but it will be somewhere in this day,
here,
now,
somewhere here where i will find that strength.
no man behind a curtain will tempt me with false closure,
for there is no "see-all" and "be-all" in this universe.
but in this place i call home,
i will garner my weakened strength on my own,
somewhere in this state of grace.

"its the weak made strong,
its finding what you're missing,
was right there all along,
its an open road,
to a better place,
its a life worth living,
in the state of grace."

weenies.

i highly suspect that weenie dog numero deux
has committed a highly foul offense,
because his recent cuddly behavior strikes me odd.
his fierce independence has always kept him preoccupied
from providing kissy kissies to mommy number one.

but i shamefully regret to inform you
that our suspisions of chiweenie-butt hiding in the closet were true.
now understand, that as his puppy mommy,
my unconditional love for him does not end at his coming out.
it ends at his incestuous desires to make mad weenie love to his brother.
he will be undergoing a psych eval and treatment from the finest facility SC has to offer.
the family is requesting privacy in this dark and highly personal tragedy.

lunacy.

i have diagnosed myself with a stomach ulcer.
WebMD works wonders for hypercondriacs.
though i shamefully admit to being one,
this...this one is real.
spasms.
crippling spasms.
that reminds me,
i need to go buy that hypercondriac book for a certain aunt of mine.

so jack ass is being cuddly.
he is not a cuddly dog.
harley is a cuddly dog.
his fetch games and kisses are tempting me to say
perhaps he has the "mama's boy" trait in him after all.

i have a grandmother who is not fairing well,
and an adopted grandfather who is not either.
i also have a Mawmaw who's
"side is still buldging,
but its okay as long as you can still bitch about it."
(per her dearly departed sister.)
ah, the southern lady.
there's nothing quite like that unique poignant grace.

trying.

i don't know why,
but i am slipping.
the ground's not so stable under my feet.
i don't want to be depressed about him.
he doesn't deserve it.
nowhere to go but forward.

don't be hatin.

i have the best, most cuddly,
snoodle bug, snoodley butt,
foofy foo, tator tot, pookie,
darlin, honey, sugah pie,
honey pot, googley goo,
and googley bear EVER.

EVER.

hallmark be damned.

i hate hallmark movies, i really do.
so what did i do tonight?
i watched the one i recorded on our DVR.
The Russell Girl was good.
your everyday standard, tear jerker Hallmark movie.
the summation is:

Everyone in Sarah Russell’s small hometown knows her story, but no one is talking about it. Sarah, the picture-perfect girl-next-door, took a job in Chicago thinking she could escape memories of a tragic accident she blames on herself. But when she receives some unsettling news, Sarah decides to return home and try to heal old wounds.

As understanding and support come from unexpected sources, Sarah’s story becomes a journey toward forgiveness and hope for the future.

the story has its similarities.
a bit unsettling, actually.
she pushes what she needs and wants away because she doesn't think she deserves it.
she thinks she's unworthy.
she thinks her cancer is the product of karma for what happened.
that's interesting to me.
if that line of thinking proves true,
then was that tree and the windshield karma for my father?
everything that he caused over the decades to certain specific individuals,
all the pain and heartache that has lasted for decades,
is all that supposed to be erased and righted by the tree and the windshield?
i try my best to not dwell on this thing,
as i have truly lost nothing.
but it keeps finding its way to the forefront of my thoughts.
all the lies,
all the deception,
the pain,
the hurt,
the anger,
the disapointments,...
i am sorry, but that tree and that windshield just cannot undo all that he created.
granted, the asshole can't create anymore pain and decadence for anyone,
but still.
they are not magical erasers.
there are no do overs in this life.
there are second chances,...
and third and fourth and fifth...
but when you make an discerning conscious decision to ignore and/or refuse those chances,
then does that make one ignorant or "just plain stupid"?
addicts cannot reap their given chances for help.
greed was his addiction.
and pride.
he didn't care what it cost him in life,
but what it cost him was his life.

reba and kelly, ellis and obama.

Where do I begin?!

First of all, I wish to extend my deepest thanks and never ending appreciation to Joey for his amazing generosity.
Words cannot express the depths of my gratitude.
Your gifts will never be forgotten.

Everything has its place and time, so they say.
This adage could not have been truer on the day of January 25, 2008.

After being totally and completely entranced by the "Reba room,"
a tank of gas, a quick stop at the Huddle House to check up on
Billy, we were on our way to Winston-Salem North Carolina for
our fifth row "Reba & Kelly Clarkson, 2 Worlds 2 Voices TOUR 2008."

On the ride up there, hell for that matter, the entire time, we were
the biggest most *psychotic* fanatical Reba dorks around.

After a scary ride through the ghetto, and *stalking* observing the
tour buses, we settled upon an IHOP for food. Then it was back
across the street to the convention center.

There were two radio DJ booths in front of the convention center
for the early birds, like us. At the first booth, was a raffle that we
entered to win random prizes, including backstage passes. But the drawing would be at seven,
and we were not about to stand in the 35° weather for about 40 minutes, so back to the car we went.

However, on the way back to the car we heard the second radio
DJ announce their contest for backstage passes. We looked at
each other and made a beeline for that booth. Turns out it was a
karaoke contest. They would play a few seconds of part of a
Reba song, turn the song off, and you had to sing as much as you
could, getting the lyrics correct. Well I knew that this would not
be a problem, as the two of us happened to be the biggest Reba
dorks either side of the Mason Dixon.

The lady in front of us had the song Fancy,… which everybody
knows. But what did she do? She BOMBED it. Like, seriously. This
woman should be ashamed to call herself a Reba fan.

Then Joey gets up there. His random song was Little Rock. My
friends, this is a 1986 release. To no surprise, he nailed it. And I
mean that he nailed it like Tommy Lee nailed Pamela Anderson. I
was standing about 3 to 5 feet in front of him screaming the lyrics
along with him like a damn fool. And what happens next? Wham
bam, thank ya ma'am...he wins us backstage passes to meet Reba.

Little did we know, that we would also be meeting Kelly as well.

Though he had me beat on the number of Reba concerts
attended, this would be my second time meeting a Reba, his first.
You can only imagine the sheer pandemonium that followed.


Fast forwarding… Reba is as beautiful as she was in person in '97.
No I take that back, more beautiful. And good goddess, Kelly is
smokin. The thighs on her…could make me believe in God. There
is no better high than meeting the Reba in person. None.


So let me fast forward a little bit more... the concert was
phenomenal. Only the truest of Reba fans who have attended her
concerts in recent years would know that her voice just can't hit
the notes that it once could. But my dears, Kelly brought out the
best in Reba. Mrs. McEntire once again has managed to resurrect
the emotion and the heartiness back into her concerts. The
concert left you lacking for nothing. It can be said that this
particular concert can be undoubtedly compared to the Reba
concert circa the 1990s. It was simply amazing.

(Pictures will be posted at a later time,
as I have a Bio 101 test tomorrow that I have failed to study for.
Yeah, I know. Boo on me.

"Oh wait, what was I busy doing, you ask? Oh I was having a little
pow-wow time with mah buddies Reba and Kelly Clarkson. What
were YOU doing? Yeah, that's what I thought.")

Needless to say, when I crawled into my bed at 3:30 a.m., I was
one happy tired little white girl.

Now, I must do some bragging on my twin brothers. On Saturday
they were in Columbia to go to the zoo when they stopped in at
Harpers restaurant for a bite to eat. Who walks in? Barack
Obama. Yeah. Ellis was the one who spoke to Obama. He even
made it on NBC Nightly News. That is the national news, yall.
Then, a reporter from the Boston Globe interviewed him.
Underneath this is the story. (However, the picture is Ellis's REINACTMENT of the face Obama made when Ellis
asked him the question he asked.)

I am the happiest girl in the world.

Peace and Love,
Sarah.



Obama gives diners a lunch rush

Email|Link|Comments (0) Posted by Scott Helman, Political Reporter January 26, 2008 03:06 PM




COLUMBIA, S.C. -- On today's lunch menu: Soup, salad, and Barack Obama.

Diners at Harper's Restaurant just off Columbia's downtown got a special visit
today from Obama, who was making a final pitch for votes as South Carolina
Democrats went to the polls. He spent about a half-hour greeting the lunch
and brunch crowd, stopping by nearly every table to pose for photographs
and exchange pleasantries.

"I might get to shake hands with the future president!" one woman said
excitedly into her cell phone as Obama arrived. As Obama began to work his
way around the room, he approached a family gathered around a big table and
said, "How's it going, everybody?" Then he grabbed a white napkin off their
table and wiped his hands. "I got a little juice on me," he said.

Beverly Wilburn, a cook at the restaurant, came out of the kitchen to greet
him. "You got my vote," she told him. "All right." Asked if she had voted yet,
Wilburn said, "As soon as I get off of work."

But Obama didn't have it so easy with Ellis and Alex Caulkins, precocious 12-
year-old twins from Florence, S.C. "Hey, Obama, what are you going to do
about foreign policy?" Ellis asked, telling Obama he didn't seem to be making
many campaign promises. Obama reiterated his vow to get American troops
out of Iraq, then asked the twin boys what they were doing today. Ellis
explained that they were headed to Riverbanks Zoo and Garden in Columbia.
"That sounds fun," Obama said, before the boys' grandfather pulled them away.
"Let's go eat, boys, time to eat," he said.

Back at his table, Ellis said he wasn't satisfied with Obama's answer, but
admitted he had something of an agenda. "I don't want another Democrat," he
said, professing admiration for Rudy Giuliani and John McCain. "We have
enough of them."

Fortunately for Obama, Ellis will be at the zoo today, not at a polling place.

·

fucking pets.

the pain is so intense.
i hate when it gets like this;
cold + rainy.
arthiritis and tendonitis are bitches from bush's asshole.

i am doing an absolutely fabulous job at procrastinating to study for my Bio test.
i just can't seem to get the "get up and go" required to do well in school this semester.
i dunno why.
this shit is taking FOREVER.
and i'm not even halfway done.

rosie got a new puppy.
a 2.5 lbd chihuahua named Missy.
the irony does not escape me.
i am tired of sick dogs, though.

EVERY TIME we turn around,
its barf or shit.
the joys of parenting weenie dogs.
harley is far from perfect, but he's perfect for me.
and jack ass...
/sigh.
he's gonna make me go gray.
i love him with all of my heart,
but i am DONE with weenie dogs.
no more for us.

what i can't stand is when we get so furious at him,
then his puppy dog hound dog eyes give the saddest, most pathetic look either side of the mason-dixon.
he is a ROTTEN dog, i tell you.
and yes, i realize its my fault.
i am perfectly aware of this fact.
he's such a jack ass.

we're on round 37669965469023456789976345678 with our fish tank.
we still have our female betta, shirley.
added to the mix is:
Pea, Chunk, and oh shit, wait, wait...
i forget.
i forgot my goldfish's name.
well fuck.
(ha. 3 second memory. hey! maybe THAT'S why they ram the glass?)

i have the bestest wifey.
my snuggley wuggley takes superb care of me.
i simply adore her.
well,
i adore everything except her farts.
because "LAWD JESUS HELP ME"...
them's some goddess awful smellin things.

FUCKING PETS.

truth and love.

The mysterious wicked van Gogh who visits me every time I bow my head to sleep
paints relentless images on the walls of my eye lids that are hindrances to my state of awareness.
Images of an abuser lying in his casket.
This repeated image fails to conjure up emotions such as fear, hatred, trepidation, and a deeply rooted wretchedness that seems to have once floated past the roots beneath the surface of my soul.
I try to persuade the perpetual image to leave my mind,
Diversion exercises and focal points be damned.
A shocking number of people showed to mourn these two people.
The little girl whose hair he once grabbed to jerk her head so he could yell at her to tell her that Reba McEntire was a whore… that little girl, she wanted to stand up on top of his casket with a megaphone to tell everybody that this man that they were grieving for was a liar.
This was a man who said something so heinous when I was born that nobody will tell me what it was.
This was a man who told me, rather, screamed at me that I was too big of a bitch for him to leave me anything in his will.
This was a man who could barely look at me, if at all.
Just as blood clots cause cardiac infarctions,
his hatred caused his blood to coagulate.
This was a man who prized his barbecue sauce recipe more than his own children.
He was embarrassed to be seen in public with me.
He berated me as a child for the outfits that I would wear these sporadic times he would take me out.
He was livid that I wore cowboy boots to a rodeo.
He was always worried about his precious reputation…
I guess he outdid himself on this one.
When the coroner's report comes back the world will see what a drunken fool he was,
That my accusations over the course of the past 25 years were not just mere rhetoric.
The hatred that once flowed through him was ultimately his demise.
Hatred is like acid,
it will eat you up and kill you.
Thank heavens for my filters,
my mom, my Nana, my Mawmaw, Steve, my friends,…
and my wife.
If it weren't for them I would be spiraling down the rabbit hole towards my demise.
I, too, would have that very hatred clogging my arteries.
Thank heavens for love.
Because in the end my dear friend,
it is both truth and love that will set you free.

ugh.

i hate when i can't sleep.

sucks.

sweet dreams...

my reprieve found its way to me via joey, through a pair of FIFTH row reba and kelly clarkson tickets. yee of little faith.

he sinks lower, i raise higher.

a wonderful friday night composed of a BFF, my honey, her folks and Beaufort stew with Alaskan King Crab Legs thrown into the mix.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HHBO2yIyk8#

commence the spatula fetching.

the infamous dr finch of running with scissors
could be in the running with the therapist whom i met today.
upon entering the "business" establishment,
one would observe the "staff" huddling outside for relentless smoke breaks.
then the smell of wet dog greets you merrily in the waiting room.
the stench is matched visually by the enormous pet shit & piss stains adorning the decades old carpet.
you couldn't help but to slowly realize that this place seeped with black mold,
aspestos,
and lead paint.
a circus like popcorn machine defied all shades of dhec regulations,
and the receptionist/nurse horribly ignored all hiipa violations.
"ms rudd, thank you for coming to walgreens, you're seroquil approved by the receptionist/nurse has been called in."
this lady (the receptionist/nurse) reminded me of the girl who's smoked for her entire life since her uncle molested her,
so she whored herself out as the lot lizard in the local bar parking lot.
THEN there's her co-worker, Debbie.
let's discuss Debbie.
her husband is being challenged to a paternity test because another woman
told him to deposit his sperm in a cup and she'd do the job herself.
you see, she wanted a baby real bad...
"you get what i'm sayin."
(apparently, this is the summation of all sentences that exit Debbie's lovely trashy mouth.)
one is under the impression that the "doc" lives here,
hires addicts/recovering addicts,
is a pot smoking, anti war left over 50s reject hippie,
who leaves his RX pads in an open box on the floor in front of you.
the decor that gave the office its...*thinks what word to insert here*...
"ecclectic" taste...
is hippie meets trailor trash meets dog hoader meets crack house flavor.
i was expecting a let's see if its a message from god and
"hoist the coiled turd."
somebody fetch my spatula, s'il vous plait.
running with scissors, indeed.