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And for me, that stream has been heavily interrupted by boulders lately. Instead of singing it’s way down the mountain, it’s encountered a storm and is running every which way to avoid the debris in it’s way. And directly relates to everything within my brain.

For awhile, it seemed my life spiraled out of my control, I had to learn to give up that control, and then had to learn how to live with it/out it in new boundaries. Before, I always had an easy time expressing myself through the writing, but this last couple of years have thrown some major roadblocks in my mental way. It isn’t always easy to talk about how much you dislike what’s happening or how miserable you are or even how good you are at keeping things to yourself as you struggle to work through the pieces.

Few people are blessed physically and emotionally to become that kinda of person who is a rock solid oak, rooted strong in the soil, and growing tall to to touch the sun. Most of us are the little oak seedlings who sit below it, trying to get to the little rays of light that escape the larger tree’s shadow. Some of us do well, regardless of the shadows, and some fail miserably, whining about how horrible life is and how it all isn’t fair.

I’ve never wanted to be a whiner. I’ve never wanted to be known as “Poor her, she has it so rough.” And yet sometimes, I can feel that need to lay down and whine and beg someone else to take care of things for me. The old adage ~Life is to short~ has always been true, and I wanted to put everything I had into living everyday as if it were my last and reaching for every bit of enjoyment I could find.

In my life I’ve been injured a few times, a couple of them severely, and had to slow down for a while as my body healed before charging full tilt back into the ring. As time has marched on, I’ve learned new lessons in pacing myself, and enjoying each moment as it comes instead of looking for it. And each morning, I would wake up in my self, and maybe not be to happy with it, but at the same time, be OK with what I had.

When I was hit with AVN, I had a new world opened to my eyes. And it was a strange one. I had to relearn this body I had, I had to relearn how to do so many things I had taken for granted, relearn to walk, learn I couldn’t run, adjust to the fact that I was slower in a way that couldn’t be forced past. I had to allow others to help me, I swallowed my pride and let them pick me up, I accepted that my body wasn’t capable anymore. And as time marches on, I’ve learned to look below my own height and see the things I’ve never noticed before because the weren’t at the level of my head. Spending time in a chair made me notice how they have the cool little gadgets at the store on the bottom shelves. I was more at the level of flowers and not having to bend down to smell them. And I was more at the height of my little girls, where they could easily reach in for a kiss.

Most of all, I’ve opened my eyes and learned. Learned things I never would have without my body being brought down. Learned things I honestly didn’t know I was capable of. And discovered a real respect for those who battle anything that interferes with the physical side of life as we know it. Life gives us everything we could possibly ever ask for, but it does it in it’s own way, with no regard for how we think it should be. Not understanding that what it gives, it can take away, and what you don’t need is something you won’t always get, and sometimes you do get lemons – and you’re out of sugar and the lemonade tastes like shit. And yet, there are those special little moments that make you remember it isn’t all bad, and the little moments where you feel it is worth it, no matter how hard it seems outside those points.

I don’t know what’s in store down the road, I don’t know how well my physical side is going to do. But I am damn sure that even when I have to break for a bit, I’m going to get back up and try again. And accept help for what I can’t do. And remember I’m not the only one. And keep on writing, even if I never show the rest of the world, I’m going to keep on writing and let me flow through me.

It’s been heart breaking to watch the kids of this town say goodbye to their friends. Not having known them myself, I am in a way, distanced from what is felt. Yet every time I see their pictures, tears well up, and I have to take deep breaths to hold it back. Just the thought of how the parents feel breaks me apart. And the several memorials we’ve already had, at a city park, and 2 of the schools that they went to have been incredibly moving as hundreds have come together to offer each other and the lost families comfort. It’s been so amazing to watch all of them pull together and do their damndest to hold each other up. And so heart wrenching to watch a grandmother crumple as she reads the messages written for her grandson.

It’s also beyond scary to know that a very good friend of mine, her stepson, was supposed to be in that car that night. It’s even more terrifying to know that a child I wanted to raise was in the car behind the one that was hit. As much as it hurt us to cut ties with her, it would have destroyed us if we lost her.

Every one survives grief differently, and it’s been hard to watch some kids pull into themselves and see the trauma written all over them. Several cars had caravaned together to go to a party, and all those cars were witness to the tragedy that happened instead. I can’t even imagine what’s going on in their heads as they try to process things.

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I have never been so disgusted as I have been watching the news reports on this. Granted, they are putting the information out for the public, but then they always have to take it a step to far. It started with the story of the wreck and turned into “Call the paper if you were a witness to report any details. A reporter will call you back as soon as possible.”

Is that even legal? Do they have the right to say call the newspaper instead of the police? I would think, granted, on the side of common sense, that it should have said call the Sheriff’s Dept if you were a witness. To make it even worse, today they released copies of the 911 calls. I dont think it’s right that they did this, I don’t think it’s appropriate that people want to listen to it, I’m sure the parents are absolutely horrified that anyone would want to hear it.

The other thing is “the other side”. We keep hearing how the drunk driver that hit them was a “good guy” and he’s “horrified” about what happened. People trying to start rumors that “Really, it was the other drivers fault.” and “If he could have prevented it, he would have.” So, why didn’t he? Why did he drink so much he couldn’t even tell he was driving away from his home instead of towards it? What made him think it was OK for him to get behind the wheel in the first place? What in the bloody hell did he think when he walked away from the accident to take care of his motorcyle in the back of his car and didn’t even check on the kids who’s life he had just ended? And 4 counts of vehicular homicide? Why is it not first degree murder?

I just don’t have the words. I don’t have the ability to express how this makes me want to rip people apart and want to cuddle them to my chest at the same time.

We lost 4 teens this weekend to a drunk driver. 2 of these kids go to my daughter’s school, a small enough school that everyone knows everyone. The first time a tragedy like this has happened within the small walls of this town, the first time mass memorials have had to be held by the young teenagers of this town, at a time when they should be celebrating their youth, not saying goodbye to it.

Story

Just because that’s how my mind is working at the moment.

• At work -  “Well you have this in common with that guy, because you’re both married to Filipinos now, and you have that in common with this guy, because you both have an ex-wife that became a lesbian.”

Of course, someone else walked in just in time to hear that, and kinda stood there with a look on their face.

• I come for home for lunch, not so much for the food but because I have a phobia about public bathrooms (I’ve mentioned this before I think). So I come home just to pee in my own bathroom where I know what germs live there, and can guarantee that if I sit in pee, it’s one of my kids pee. The problem is, as Brat said yesterday, “Oh.My.God.Mom. Did you just pee for like a whole minute?”

At least I know I’m getting my fluids .

• Damn Yttik is convinced that climbing up my leg is how to get me to hold her. My legs are starting to look like I’ve gone 3 rounds with a tiger. I’m fighting the urge of my leg accidentally snapping out and flinging her across the kitchen because I don’t want to hurt her, but can you say ow?

Can you come up with a greater excuse to avoid shaving?

• Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett both died today.

The loss of Farrah is truly a loss, a more beautiful, talented, and courageous star there never was. However, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t point out out that she died from ANAL cancer. ANAL! I didn’t even know you could get that!

Michael was a star in his own right and time, but was eclipsed by the many antics he spent his life performing. My first reaction when I heard was “Why, was his nose to small to breathe through?”

Seriously, I need help.

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On that note, and the fact that i need to put my darling rugrats to bed, and in the spirit of Michael (I couldn’t find a worthy enough tribute for Farrah.), I leave you with Signature. They got their start on Britain’s Got Talent (of course) and Suleman (the Michael dancer) has since been declared the Official Michael Jackson Impersonator. You can see their official site here.

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