BITCHOLOGY

This, received in email from a friend of mine today, sums it all up quite nicely:


When I stand up for
myself and my beliefs,
they call me a

bitch.

When I stand up for
those I love,
they call me a

bitch.

When I speak my mind,
think my own thoughts
or do things my own way,
they call me a

bitch.

Being a bitch
means I won't
compromise what's
in my heart.

It means I live my life
MY way.

It means I won't allow
anyone to step on me.

When I refuse to
tolerate injustice and
speak against it, I am
defined as a

bitch.

The same thing happens
when I take time for
myself instead of being
everyone's maid,
or when I act a little selfish.


It means I have the courage and strength
to allow myself to be who I
truly am and won't become anyone
else's idea of what they think I
"should" be.

I am outspoken, opinionated and determined.
I want what I want and there is nothing
wrong with that!

So try to stomp on me,
try to douse my inner flame,
try to squash every ounce of
beauty I hold
within me.

You won't succeed.

And if that makes me a bitch ,
so be it.

I embrace the title and
am proud to bear it.

B - Babe
I - In
T - Total
C - Control of
H - Herself

B = Beautiful
I = Intelligent
T = Talented
C = Charming
H = Hell of a Woman

B = Beautiful
I = Individual
T = That
C = Can
H = Handle anything

Stevie, we hardly knew ye

Early this morning, Steve Irwin, popularly known as the Crocodile Hunter, died as a result of injury sustained in a close encounter with a stingray off Australia's Great Barrier Reef. He died while filming a documentary on the great creatures, having come too close to one and agitating it, causing it to whip out with it's tail and catch him under the rib cage with the sharp, poisonous barb at the end of it's tail. He died of a massive puncture wound to his heart.

Granted, this was a freak accident, one which no one would have predicted, but it makes me ask again, what is it in the souls of some folks that makes them NEED life on the edge? Why do they thirst for the kind of excitement that would stop the hearts of most of the people I know? I would no sooner leap on the back of a 10' crocodile than I would jump from a moving train. Yet there are those whose lives are nothing without the adrenaline rush of cheating death.

Sorry, Steve, this time you didn't cheat it, you played right into it's hands. I hope it was worth it. If I believed in a hereafter I might take comfort in believing you had gone on to something greater. Instead I think of your widow and your fatherless little children, and all I can feel is "What a waste..."

Vacation - the sequel

Yes, I have decided to take a few days off work. I am going to spend some time with my mother, cleaning her house and trying to convince her to move closer to me, and I am also going to spend some time cleaning my own house and trying to convince myself to move closer to myself. Now that may seem like a lot of doubletalk, but there is a thread of sanity in what I am saying. I have allowed my own direction to drift, shying away from realities that are painful. In the process of this drift, I have lost much of my ability to create coherent, readable text. It's strange in a way, that in my drive to protect myself I have removed one of the few real means I have of expressing my thoughts, my passions. The proof of this is in the fact that I have been seated here for at least 20 minutes and have been able to produce 7 fairly simple sentences, none of which address anything threatening, and almost all of which have been edited to remove any feeling. And now, I have to run off yet again, because my time is not my own.

Have you ever felt like you were drowning?