We give the people we love chances, again and again. Hurting ourselves for fear of hurting them or maybe for fear of facing the reality of what our lives might be like without them in it. Whatever the reason.
An acquantance recently told me that 'people remember the things that are important to them'. I don't think he realized the gravity of his words on me at that particular moment. But his words were so true. If something or someone is important to them they don't just keep taking advantage of the chances they are given. They use those chances as an opportunity to make themselves better, to give a little more, unless it just isn't that important to them and therefore is not a priority. And if they can get away with it, they will.
Some people live by the idea of 3 strikes and you are out; some don't give any chances, they just fold... let it go, and walk away; and then there are others of us who can't seem to let go, the ones who rejection, disappointment and betrayal always seems to find. We give more chances than cats have lives. Setting ourselves up for heartbreak, after heartbreak. Accepting whatever BS excuses or apologies come our way. Settling for less than we deserve,... 'it is what it is'. Avoiding conflict and confusion until it becomes too much to just accept, and all of the I'm sorries fall mute because we have to shut ourselves down to keep from being hurt any more than we already have been. I was listening to One Republic/ Timbaland's song... Too Late to Apologize and I could totally relate to the tone of the song and the lyrics.....
I'm holding on your rope,
Got me ten feet off the ground,
And I'm hearing what you say,
But I just can't make a sound,
You tell me that you need me,
Then you go and cut me down, away,
You tell me that you're sorry,
Didn't think I'd turn around, and say
[Chorus]
That it's too late to apologize,
It's too late,
I said it's too late to apologize,
It's too late,
(Too late)
Ooooooohhh
I take another chance,
take a fall, take a shot for you,
i need you like a heart needs a beat,
But it's nothing new, yeahhh yeahhh
I loved you with the fire red,
Now it's turning blue, and you said
Sorry like the angel,
Heaven let me think was you,
But I'm afraid
[Chorus]
[Guitar Solo]
It's too late to apologize,
It's too late,
I said it's too late to apologize,
It's too late
I said it's too late to apologize,
(Too late)
I said it's too late to apologize,
(Too late)
I'm holding on your rope,
Got me ten feet off the ground
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
God Bless America and the Po Po too
In my usual morning rush to beat the inevitable tardy bell at Taylor's school we headed down Bush River as we normally do. Today we weren't quite so rushed, as we had a whole 15 minutes to make the 4 minute drive from the house to the school. I was contemplating whether I should stop for gas before or after I dropped her off when i noticed in the rear view, a tan car with a lexington county police department emblem in the lane to my right.the sun reflecting off the officer signature bald head and dark sunglasses. I reviewed my speed-o-meter, no fears I was going within the speed limit. Checked myself and Taylor to be certain we were both properly restrained. While I checked and re-checked I noticed the office slowly driving along side me careful no to pass me, purposely making his way into my lane behind me.
Moments later I was greeted by those flashing lights. Instantly I knew what it was. My tags had expired last month. Luckily I paid them online last week. I just was waiting on the new registration to come in the mail and had already planned a visit to the DMV today to get a new sticker. The officer approached the car and Taylor should with excitement, "Mommy, its the police". I explained to the officer that I had paid the tags and had my receipt and showed it to him. He then took his time running my licence through the system. And brought it back with a lecture about displaying improper tags. He gave me a warning and sent me on my merry way.
What I would like to know is WTF kinds of quotas do these clowns have to meet that they spend their time and their energy pulling someone over in rush hour traffic because the tag appears to be one month expired. Are you kidding me. Is it really that serious, really? Is there nothing more pressing for them to attend to then to nit pick minor traffic violations. Do they not have an old lady to help cross a road or get a cat out of a tree. Or heaven forbid, they should actually spend their time doing something worth while like try to catch a rapist or a child abuser or a murderer. HAPPY PHUCKIN FRIDAY!
Moments later I was greeted by those flashing lights. Instantly I knew what it was. My tags had expired last month. Luckily I paid them online last week. I just was waiting on the new registration to come in the mail and had already planned a visit to the DMV today to get a new sticker. The officer approached the car and Taylor should with excitement, "Mommy, its the police". I explained to the officer that I had paid the tags and had my receipt and showed it to him. He then took his time running my licence through the system. And brought it back with a lecture about displaying improper tags. He gave me a warning and sent me on my merry way.
What I would like to know is WTF kinds of quotas do these clowns have to meet that they spend their time and their energy pulling someone over in rush hour traffic because the tag appears to be one month expired. Are you kidding me. Is it really that serious, really? Is there nothing more pressing for them to attend to then to nit pick minor traffic violations. Do they not have an old lady to help cross a road or get a cat out of a tree. Or heaven forbid, they should actually spend their time doing something worth while like try to catch a rapist or a child abuser or a murderer. HAPPY PHUCKIN FRIDAY!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
fear factor
We all have our fears. Some are afraid of the dark, others afraid of clowns, and some afraid of death. Some of our fears are those that may have developed from a traumatic childhood experience others of the unknown and still some may even seem pointless, as there may be a very rare chance that we will ever even be faced with our fears.
And then there is the fear that is driven into us subconsciously. Big Brother seems to have successfully found a way to control society through advertising, and 'terrorist attempts', and 'shortages' of natural resources that stem from the real damage that we have all done to our environment as they have neglected once again to monitor and observe real causes for concern because they were too busy searching for weapons of mass destruction. Now Sams is rationing rice. And SUV drivers are panicking due to the fear of the promise of rising gas prices.
But alas, I will dismount this virtual soapbox to share my own fear and subsequent brush with my own demise.
As I child I always had a fear of snakes. Poisonous or not. Satan came into the Garden of Eden as a serpent. Slithering slimy and deadly. And that is the way I always identified with the creatures. They used to haunt my dreams as a child as I would often wake in a panic, relieved to be free from the snake pit behind my eyelids. This weekend I got up close and personal with one of these serpents. Visiting a friend, we had spoken with him repeatedly about replacing his porchlight (stubborn as most men are). Saturday evening as I went outside in my flip flops and shorts to get somethings i had left in the car, I stepped out of the front door and what seemed to be a belt or headband or some small article of clothing that must have fallen out of our bags earlier. Of course there was no porchlight to confirm this. I knelt down to pick it up, and a voice inside my head advised me to push the front door open so that I can have some light. I did, only to find my own fear before me. At first glance I thought it to be fake, maybe one of the childrens toys or a cruel prank, until it began to move and the head turned to face me. I jumped back and began to scream like a mad woman, til I almost lost my voice. Jack finally came downstairs to see what I was screaming about when i told him, he slammed the door, as he too had a fear of snakes. I freaked out and headed for my car, no keys in hand I knew I couldn't leave so I jumped on top quickly (as it was dark and I had no idea wear our friend went). I saw Jack's silouette running through the house and then back at the front door followed by a banging sound. Seconds which seemed like hours later the garage door opened an I ran inside quickly. He explained he had beat the serpent with a shovel and surely it was gone. We went back to the front door to confirm, and didn't see him.
Minutes later we checked again as we both needed reassuring. This time he was there about 2 feet away from the door looking straight at us as if he was just waiting to get revenge from being stepped on and beaten. We slammed the door quickly and called Animal Control, who advised us that wildlife control would handle such complaints but only if the snake was inside the house. The porch was outside, which is considered to be its natural habitat. We checked the door again to find that our slimy friend was back in the doorway waiting to get inside. This time i got a good view of his brown skin with dark diamond shaped spots along his back. Moments later there was a knock at the door. Once we realized most likely it was not the snake announcing his visit we asked who it was. Only to find half the neighborhood at the front door, coming to our rescue. They took the shovel and beheaded the serpent. We later learned it was a diamond back rattlesnake, poisonous and deadly. In a split second he could have bitten me, when I stepped on him or reached out to him and I could have never seen the light of day. Definitely a sobering moment for me.
And then there is the fear that is driven into us subconsciously. Big Brother seems to have successfully found a way to control society through advertising, and 'terrorist attempts', and 'shortages' of natural resources that stem from the real damage that we have all done to our environment as they have neglected once again to monitor and observe real causes for concern because they were too busy searching for weapons of mass destruction. Now Sams is rationing rice. And SUV drivers are panicking due to the fear of the promise of rising gas prices.
But alas, I will dismount this virtual soapbox to share my own fear and subsequent brush with my own demise.
As I child I always had a fear of snakes. Poisonous or not. Satan came into the Garden of Eden as a serpent. Slithering slimy and deadly. And that is the way I always identified with the creatures. They used to haunt my dreams as a child as I would often wake in a panic, relieved to be free from the snake pit behind my eyelids. This weekend I got up close and personal with one of these serpents. Visiting a friend, we had spoken with him repeatedly about replacing his porchlight (stubborn as most men are). Saturday evening as I went outside in my flip flops and shorts to get somethings i had left in the car, I stepped out of the front door and what seemed to be a belt or headband or some small article of clothing that must have fallen out of our bags earlier. Of course there was no porchlight to confirm this. I knelt down to pick it up, and a voice inside my head advised me to push the front door open so that I can have some light. I did, only to find my own fear before me. At first glance I thought it to be fake, maybe one of the childrens toys or a cruel prank, until it began to move and the head turned to face me. I jumped back and began to scream like a mad woman, til I almost lost my voice. Jack finally came downstairs to see what I was screaming about when i told him, he slammed the door, as he too had a fear of snakes. I freaked out and headed for my car, no keys in hand I knew I couldn't leave so I jumped on top quickly (as it was dark and I had no idea wear our friend went). I saw Jack's silouette running through the house and then back at the front door followed by a banging sound. Seconds which seemed like hours later the garage door opened an I ran inside quickly. He explained he had beat the serpent with a shovel and surely it was gone. We went back to the front door to confirm, and didn't see him.
Minutes later we checked again as we both needed reassuring. This time he was there about 2 feet away from the door looking straight at us as if he was just waiting to get revenge from being stepped on and beaten. We slammed the door quickly and called Animal Control, who advised us that wildlife control would handle such complaints but only if the snake was inside the house. The porch was outside, which is considered to be its natural habitat. We checked the door again to find that our slimy friend was back in the doorway waiting to get inside. This time i got a good view of his brown skin with dark diamond shaped spots along his back. Moments later there was a knock at the door. Once we realized most likely it was not the snake announcing his visit we asked who it was. Only to find half the neighborhood at the front door, coming to our rescue. They took the shovel and beheaded the serpent. We later learned it was a diamond back rattlesnake, poisonous and deadly. In a split second he could have bitten me, when I stepped on him or reached out to him and I could have never seen the light of day. Definitely a sobering moment for me.
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