Our basement door is possessed

I have not slept more than fours hours the last two nights. Isn't it strange how when that happens; you begin to see things.

True story. Nick is convinced our townhouse is haunted. It's not something seen, but what you hear that makes you pause.

My bedroom door is hard to open when closed, which it always is when I'm sleeping. When you try to open it you have to pull hard, and it makes enough sound vibrating throughout the townhouse.

Our basement door seems to be possessed. We can be sitting in the living room and watch it open for no reason at all. Today I was talking to Nick in the downstairs bathroom and the basement door creaked open, and I heard the cat meow at the same time.

I searched for her upstairs and downstairs thinking she just came through the door pushing it open. Makes sense, right? After going down to the basement the second time to find her, she was there the whole time.

Nick said. "I have been trying to tell you."

He has been in the living room by himself and watched the door open. It creaks when it opens--not like you can miss that.

Interesting things you hear at the VA Hospital

Another normal day, I think not. It's the interesting things you can hear when in the VA emergency room that makes life interesting.

"Do you have any allergies," the nurse asked? 
"Yes, bullets."

Another nurse responded by dropping all of her paperwork. Might be a great place to spend the day just to hear what someone will say.

Nick keeps cracking jokes which only makes it worse. He told the nurse that I made a cake I was jumping out of for his birthday. I told him that would scar my children for life. He responded by telling me not if I dressed like Spongebob. The nurse said she didn't think she wanted to know where that was going.

That is Nick's way of dealing with things. He cracks jokes when you would think he should be serious. Being as sick as he has, I think having humor about the situation is a good thing. I'm still waiting for life to get back to normal. Maybe things are as normal as they can be, and I should be satisfied with what I have.

I bought Nick a SUV for his birthday: socks, underwear, and Viagra.
Nick, paybacks are a bitch!

Shattered within my broken mind. I hide behind my blank stare and fool them into thinking I'm one of them. Hanging my head down as they approach; to disguise my hatred. 


Who is the fool now?


My hatred is a fire that has burned deep inside of me for longer than I could tell you. Already I attempt to quell my shaking hands as under my robe I hold a sickle. 


Waiting. . . 
Waiting. . .
Wanting to spill blood.


Rising at last when the nun moves within reach.
I strike with deadly aim and as she stares up at me with a surprised glance within her slowly fading eyes.
I smile.

Why dreams are better than books

What exactly are dreams supposed to mean? They are better and often more frightening than books could ever be. 

I had a dream I was shot in the chest. I did wake up afterward, but in my dream, it was a movie I was watching.

My most recent dream was about someone who read his own obituary in the paper. I couldn't tell you how many people I have warned if you keep reading the obituaries in the newspaper, one day you'll see your own.

In this case, the person was not dead and he was pissed. His answer was simple; he decided to kill his family. They were all ready trying to pass him off for dead after-all.

When I said he wanted to kill them. I mean murder them in a heinous manner that would cause massive amounts of blood to spurt from their bodies into pools at their feet.

Maybe it's just me, but I see nothing wrong with that. Maybe he was dead or laying in a box waiting to be dumped by them. He was totally justified in my opinion, but then again this was my dream.

Dreams are stories that merge into each other with no reason other than to confuse the reader. Believe me, I'm more confused than ever.


This dream was the result of finding out a former patient passed away after a lengthy battle with leukemia. May he rest in peace and let me rest when I sleep.

Too Young To Die

How do parents decide to allow their child to participate in dangerous sports? There are children climbing mountains, sailing around the world and as we see today, dying on an Indianapolis track.

I know parents that have all of their kids into motor cross, as young as four. They rationalize it, "they enjoy it" but with the same breath, she said one of her sons needed to push himself to be more competitive.

Push himself? We're not talking about school here, but a dangerous sport that they could be seriously injured or worst.

Someone at work told me her daughter was learning to fly, and she's thirteen. It will take her two to three years for her to get her license. She is proud of her and rightly so, she should be, but I didn't hear the same tone from her.

How young is too young to die? I often wonder why kids just can't be kids anymore.

Schools are pushing children harder and harder. Their expectations are high, and it's no wonder schools are failing the grade. Not all children learn at the same level, and some take longer. It took my son to the end of last year for them to test him for speech, and get him help with his motor skills.
Who is truly failing? Be proactive, and help your children every way possible. Including speaking to his teacher if you don't agree with how your child is doing in school. There are many excellent teachers, but there are also bad ones.

Listen to your children because they are trying to tell us something, if only we took the time to listen. I talked to my son's teacher every time he told me he was blamed for something he didn't do. Being shy, he had a problem telling the teacher himself. She listened and came up with solutions that worked and were helpful.

Daylight casts a bright glow evaporating the remaining darkness
Gone are the dark shadows that have threatened me throughout the night
Warmth spreads over my body where only cold existed before
Dread is gone and sunshine rules this place now

Darkness descends across the dry, barren land that once flourished.
Daylight is lost, as the mighty winds come and take what remains of your shattered life.

Feeling lost to all you have known becomes normal to you now; as we look all the same now.

God has forsaken us and enacted his revenge onto the earth once more.
True wrath of god events unfold without warning--as the dust takes all your hope, and spirit with it.

Have we done something to deserve this act or has our ancestors betrayed us long ago?
Selling our future so they could flourish in theirs.
Still you have faith because it is all you have left.

Is that the truth, or will things happen as they were meant to all along?

Higher powers are there because we must think of something more powerful than ourselves.

Still, it is only by our hand that change can happen.Faith cannot restore your limbs again without you moving them.

Take cover and wait until this storm has passed, only then will we learn and rebuild.

Faith cannot do this, we, mankind will do it, and only by reuniting together can this be accomplished.