Muscians

Recently I went out to listen to a live band. I love music. It is in my soul and I love to dance as well and I dance well and I'm a well dancer...Oh dear don't get carried away Sam! Some people play instruments and make beautiful music.... I don't know what gets into me but when something moves my soul I lose myself in dance. I dance like no one’s watching. Anyway that is my expression of music since I can’t play an instrument or can’t carry a tune in a bucket. My buckets got a hole in it!

I have had the privilege of knowing many muscians in my life. Very talented muscians. One has even been on the Grand Old Opry. This entry is for him as a way of saying Happy Birthday. He is 51 today. He is a true muscian and my first true love.

I found myself in a smokey concert hall with a large crowd of people. I’m standing there listening to this awesome band belting out one great tune after another almost oblivious to everything around me. Lost in the music. Almost.

All of a sudden I catch from the corner of my eye movement to the right of me where a gentleman is standing. I try to avoid looking at what I hope is not happening. The DISEASE. I just figure if I ignore it maybe it will go away like a bad dream but as hard as I try I can still see the movements. They are becoming convulsive, jerky and spastic. I force myself to look. Oh Lord his left hand is up towards the heavens like he’s beckoning angels and his right hand is close to his stomach making motions like he's furiously obsessed with getting something off of his shirt.

I shake my head and look away but in total dismay I see to my immediate left his twin. Same DISEASE going down but different spasms. His arms are flailing about in front of him like he's fighting beasts that apparently only he can envision. His hands are performing an exorcism of some evil force like none you and I have ever seen before. His face is to the side bobbing up and down contorted in what appears to be painful agony .

Hank don't fail me now! Deliver me from this evil!

At this point I know I have entered into a possessed atmosphere because before me is yet another convulsed manic individual. This person’s neck muscles are strained to the breaking point. Veins popping out and I just know at any moment blood will spring forth from his protruding jugular. His right hand is in the air holding this imaginary object, he’s bending at the waist with his mouth wide open as he brings this imaginary object near his mouth spewing forth red faced silence.

My eyes widen as I back away from this total madness. I am no longer being entertained by real musicians but by a concert hall full of air guitarist, drummers and singers. I know the band members are on stage looking down upon this melee' wondering why the hell they even bothered showing up when before them is chockablock full of wannabees the likes of which no one has ever seen.

Okay guys...admit it...you have all done that at one time or another? If you haven’t done it in public I know you’ve stood in front of your bathroom mirror and performed live parodies. Convulsing and making those God awful faces that only a mother could love. Be a man and comment with a YES I am guilty as charged! Any woman who can admit they've done it...shame on you!

Everything is perfectly normal until you enter into a live concert and then the DISEASE becomes contagious. God help us in the South when the band strikes up "Sweet Home Alabama". Maybe it's a Southern thing. Move over Bo Bice!

I have my own variation of this DISEASE but mine is called dancing and it doesn’t look quite as mentally challenged.

Nadda Zilch Nothing Part 2 1/3

In my last entry I did not mean to imply that people talking about trials and tribulations in their journals is a bad thing. I was merely stating in my limited vocabulary that so many of your journals contribute so much and mine doesn’t appear to have any depth to it nor does it teach much.

When I read other journals I realize how intelligent this little community is and by no means did I want to slight anyone. Forgive me if I did!

I was excusing myself to you by letting you know that somewhere in this little brain of mine is depth or at least I’m hoping there is. :) I lead such a boring life and I feel that if I start whining about it I may get carried away and never stop.

And if I make one person smile...I have accomplished what I set out to do in my journal.

Thank you for reading me and my words. And hopefully you all will see that there is more to me than meets the words.

Nadda Zilch Nothing

I know you guys think I’m nothing but fluff but believe it or not I do have some depth to my character.  About two inches deep but depth never the less (I can’t be serious to save my soul!)

 

My journal entries in AOL consist mostly of light humor since I have enough darkness in my life without preying upon you good people with all my mental trials and tribulations.

 

AOL is kind of like a toilet for me.   It relieves me and it is therapy for me to laugh in the face of life’s disappointments.  I know I need better bladder control but that’s what you get when you become my age.  A lot of my entries are pissing in the wind.

 

The way you choose to deal with disappointments determines how well you get along in life.  I choose humor and it works for me.

 

 I could sit here and list all of my disappointments and failures but instead I have my bedside journal entitled “Expressions of  Neurotic Women”(women because I am plural...I have many different facets to me) that help me cope with these emotions I call life.  OOH  wouldn’t you like to read some of those entries.  I may one day share a few with you but until then it is all locked within my heart.

 

There is also that ongoing journal that I keep between me and the Good Lord.  I make mental entries to him all day long.  I know he’s sick of hearing from me but hey God when you really get sick of it you’ll rain down upon me joy joy joy. (HE really is good)

 

 I love myself, who I am and life and have plenty of blessings to be thankful for.  I just happen to think I could use a little more of it.  I’m greedy!

 

I truly feel had I not been granted all these trials and tribulations I would be that fluff I spoke of in my first sentence.  Believe me I don’t dwell on any of it…well maybe when I go to bed at night I think a little more about it than during the day since I am writing all that craziness in my bedside journal.

 

Now you can all be thankful for that private journal I keep.  Of course you really would never HAVE to deal with me since you could shut off the alerts to my journal when I get too neurotic and then check back every now and then to see if I caught my head yet or if I’ve gone completely off the deep end.

 

Isn’t that lovely?  To be able to just shut someone off completely…no guilt or remorse.  They’d never know.  Why can’t life be that simple, eh?

 

You’d  better be nice to me…I’m gonna shut yer asses off

John's 84th Weekend "Ass"ignment

Weekend Assignment #84: What's Happening Here?

I thought we'd try something a little different for this week's Weekend Assignment, something to stretch those creative muscles in your brain:

Weekend Assignment #84: Take a look at the picture below. Tell us what you think is going on in the picture. You can write as long as you want, or as short as you like -- even a photo caption works. Now, it's a fairly weird picture, but I thought that would just give you more to work with. Ready? Here you go:

 

 

This is one hellava wedgie John!

Weekend Assignment #84: What's Happening Here?

The Tigers

I don't know if I ever mentioned this but the man I work for and who owns the company was the 1968 Peach Bowl MVP. He was the quarterback for LSU.  

This may not mean a whole hell of a lot for most of you BUT it represents to me FREE tickets this weekend to see the LSU Tigers in Tiger Stadium.  In all of my years I have never been and I am looking forward to it like nothing I have looked forward to in a while.

I plan on putting new meaning to the word tailgating.  I may not remember the meaning but I'm sure someone there will tell me if I happen not to be coherent enough to remember on my own.

Green Apples

I am eating a green apple and my lips are all puckered up and no one to take advantage of this momentous occasion.

A Tribute

Today is the 6th anniversary of the death of my second husband.  Probably one of the most devastating times of my life.  He was killed in an accident on All Saints Day. 

It’s very ironic that he should die on this day since most would not have considered him saintly in the least.  He was the type of person you either loved or hated.  I was one of those that could barely tolerate him upon meeting him but circumstances threw us together and I guess his total opposite nature eventually attracted me to him.

We worked together for a period of time.  He was always trying to romance me but I would have nothing to do with him. It was almost comical. He was a Romeo and a big time player and plus at the time I was dating someone else.

I eventually became engaged to that someone else and moved to San Antonio.  Of course that  relationship did not work out (surprise! surprise!  LOL) I then moved back to Louisiana and while visiting my ex co-workers I met up with him again.

Upon learning I was no longer engaged he was on a mission because everyone at the place we worked said there was no way he would ever “get” me. How stupid of a challenge to throw at him. He never could walk away from a challenge.  Well he used every bit of his charm and we had a whirlwind romance that ended in marriage within two months of our dating on June 20 1992 and then divorced less than 3 years later.

My daughter and him had a love/hate relationship for the three years but upon our divorce she got to know without all the friction that comes with having to live with someone.   Everyone eventually got to know Mark the way that I did and they all came to love him dearly even my family who loathed him so much at first.  He was the type of person who tried diligently to make people love him and accept him. 

He was adopted as a baby and the mother who adopted him went on to marry 5 times. He was adopted twice by two of her husbands.  He never had what most of us call a true father. Him and I did track down two of his biological sisters and he had a short relationship with them before dying.  We also  found out he had 2 brothers.  All the same mother and she put all five up for adoption.

His life was never stable but  I always understood him and loved him regardless of his shenanigans and let me tell you he had plenty of those! I had a very calming effect on him and I tried so hard to give him what he needed but he was such a free spirit and couldn’t be tamed no matter how much he wanted it for himself.  I truly hurt for him and the day he died something also died within me.  I lost a lot that day.  Even though we were no longer married we had a very strong bond and love for each other. 

We loved to do a lot of the same things.  We both were very competative and challenged each other in games of pool, bowling, board and card games.  We had fun together.

His fiancé at the time of his death had his briefcase which contained every card, letter and picture of us.  He  even had a piece of a Xmas tree with a ribbon wrapped around it that I had sent to him one year when he was offshore.  He had a poem Brandi (my daughter had written to him about their difficult times and her love for him)  The one thing he never lost was a crucifix that he carried in his briefcase and it was given to his son at his grave site.

His fiancé wanted me to come and retrieve the briefcase knowing that he would want me to have it but I never could bring myself to get it.  It took me months before I could even look at a picture of him.  I just couldn’t believe he was gone and I would never see him again.

My biggest regret in life was telling him one year prior to his death that we needed to stop being friends so that we could move on with our lives and I never again saw or heard from him.  His fiancé told me two months prior to his death he talked to her about calling Brandi and I.  He never did...

And you know...he just may be a Saint..who am I to judge? 

There are times I still feel him very close to me. I miss him and his craziness.  I truly believe he watches over me...Not doing a very good job but watching nevertheless!

Here’s to you Mark Charles Harland Stetler Merchant and  to your birth name Kevin John Marion.  I will never forget...