the other side of my mother

My mother is a powerhouse of strength. There were times when that power would be unleashed upon your head. We were kids, we learned to run for it. But then there were the times when you could count on that strength to keep you safe, provide for the lean times and also keep wild beasts away.

Funny that my mother wasn’t into natural healing and herbs and all that because she had a wealth of know-how on how to mend the wrongs. I remember being tortured with the dreaded PMS and she had some concoction that she gave me to drink for it. Can’t remember what it was now, but it knocked me out and I woke hours later, sans the pain.

I was always surprised at her ability to fix things. The number of times she fixed her Swinger Sewing Machine, I’ve lost count of. She is an excellent seamstress, she can even make her own quilts. This wasn’t accomplished without a lot of swearing at times but she got the job done. Oh yeah, and God help you if you crossed her path when she was in the middle of making one.

She could jury-rig whatever needed to be to get the job done. The amount of pins, string and tape around our house was well laughed at around the neighbourhood. If you saw string holding something together and it didn’t make any sense, you knew not to question it and especially not to touch it. The house might come apart if you pulled on that string.

She is a self sufficient woman who needs no help from anyone. That is until she has something heavy to be moved. She believes a woman should be strong enough to open the most stubborn of jars and if she really can’t open it, she’ll smash the jar and then proclaim it was defective. Sometimes I think my mother was just plain crazy.

But that’s my mother…………

evil is a necessary work

……….or at least thats what I get when I say, “work is a necessary evil” backwards. I never played country music backwards though, to see if I could get my boyfriend back or my dog would come home. Well, the boyfriend dropped dead and fuck the dog - I have a cat now. Fluffy doesn’t bark. His bite is worst than the dogs was, but he doesn’t bark.

Work is a collection of non-interesting freaks. Why am I there then? Cause it comes with a paycheck of course. They pay me far too much for the work I do, but I accept. I get the money from them and then I turn it over to Visa or the Vet. Visa = Bastards & this arrangement is working out for the vet.

I love the vet, she made Fluffy better. She has all my money but - I HAVE A CAT.

Crank is an interesting man, he’s well over forty, he’s even older than me. He wears a comical expression when he’s not scowling. The man goes from one extreme to another, I never know from one day to the next, who I’m working with, Jekyle or Hyde. He does make life interesting though. Yesterday I lost my concentration completely when I looked around and he was bouncing in his chair, chanting something about stupid people. I agree Crank but shut the fuck up. When he’s happy the office is great and when he’s not, it’s not. No one lunatic should have that much power.

Today I found him staring off into space contemplating life, or trying to figure out how to kill us all. You can never be too sure.

So, my work load doubles this week, the pay doesn’t. I’m not liking this situation.

When I got home this afternoon, Fluffy had gotten into the cupboard and got his paws on the dry cat food. The stuff that makes him sick. Payday is tomorrow, good timing cause if Fluffy get sick again, it’ll be a good day for the vet.

if I were a cat

I could sit around all day and soak up the sun coming in through the windows. And I don’t even need the tan.

I could sit in the window and stare disinterestedly at the snow covered city. At all the people moving to and fro, working away with their little shovels. 

I could meow loudly and have dinner brought to me immediately.

I could exercise my right to shred the sofa, doesn’t matter to me how much it cost.

I could shit in that box in the corner and sashay away from the smell, knowing full well it will be cleaned up after me.

I can sleep on a very expensive bed that I didn’t pay for, and sleep I could until my eyelids nearly grow together.

Ahhhh………………….to be a cat.

Then again, I wonder what a mouse tastes like. 

And then, worst yet, would I have to use my tongue for toilet paper? 

I’m back

Sorry folks, that took longer than usual. I got abducted by aliens again and they kept me longer than usual this time.

angels don’t have wings

I moved out two months after I moved in. I couldn’t stand living with Crazy Bossy Bitch Lady anymore. It was a nice house and I had plenty of room but CBBL just didn’t know when to shut up. Anyway, the scene is set, so enough of her.

I moved just a few miles away, near a beautiful lake. It was a tranquil area , it had trees, swings, picnic tables, the lot. It attracted a lot of people, there was always someone around the lake. And something evil lived there.

I didn’t notice it at first, everything was OK, I settled in and thought all was fine. It all started with a dream, as it so often does. She was dressed like a person from the sixties. I could tell by the bell bottom jeans and the long straight hair. She was running through the woods trying desperately to get away. Someone was chasing her and they meant to hurt her.

On another night, in another dream, I was in a room watching the people there. The leader seemed to be a late twenty/early thirties man, skinny, shaggy dirty blond hair and he was dressed in denim jeans and jacket with a red and blue striped t-shit. He was holding a clipboard and when he turned around, he put the clipboard behind him. I could see the numbers, 666 on the back side of the clipboard. He was evil.

It was always the same dream every night; her running through the woods trying to get away. Then I had a dream about the woman, where, she was still in the woods but this time she was on the ground looking up at three men. They had chased her until they caught her and now they were trying to figure out what to do with her. Two of the men were looking at the third man for some direction. He was the guy in the room with the clipboard and he was taking pleasure in this.  He loved the moment in the hunt where they get to kill. They killed the woman and that is the last time I saw her. But the evil wouldn’t go away. Night after night while I lived in that apartment by the lake, I would get ‘visits’ from evil. What did it look like? It didn’t look like anything, it was a sense, it didn’t have a face.

Every night I would wake up and know there was something trying to get to me. On the nights I couldn’t sleep, I would lie awake knowing they would come if I closed my eyes. When I passed out from exhaustion, they would come. I relived the nightmare of being chased through the woods by some evil cult, night after night. I was living the last moments of that woman’s life on earth.

One exhausted night, I fell into an extreme deep sleep. I was walking out of a fog and into a clearing, across the clearing a man came out of the fog on the other side. His face was kind and he was smiling, which didn’t make any sense because he was carrying a sword. I knew what his intentions were (dreams are funny that way). I had to fight him. And then there was a sword in my hand. After the duel, which I won, he passed me his sword. I took a good look at it. It was a beautiful piece of work, it had a design on it and parts of it were made of gold. This whole thing, this duel, was a message. He was telling me that I could fight and win. I had no idea, really, what he was talking about. So I went to see the person, who I knew, could help me find out. She is psychic and she’s also Catholic. She said it sounded like I had just described Saint Michael. Not being religious, I had no idea what she was talking about. She told me about how Saint Michael threw Lucifer out of heaven and cast him into hell. And that he had a wonderful sword that was rumoured to be golden. I had met an angel. Then I realized that the evil presence in the area I lived in was so bad that an angel had shown up to help.

My friend also told me there was a cult in that area of town and I was living in it. Nice.

I didn’t want to leave so I didn’t, for months afterward I stayed and learned to do what the angel had taught me; to fight it.

Now, eventually I did leave, I moved to another province. But it wasn’t until a long time after the last dream that I realized that Saint Michael didn’t have any wings.

what was God thinking?

I don’t know how life started. I don’t know how the universe came to be. I am not God so I don’t have all the answers. And really, does God have all the answers? I heard (can’t remember from where) that Lucifer boasted to God that he could have all the peoples follow him instead of God. God was so sure that he was kidding himself that he said, “go ahead, give her a try”

So all the bad crap in the world is, what? the side effects of a bad bet. And are we the monkeys that get to play it out for God’s amusement???

I think it’s more complicated than that, and I trust God, so no I don’t think we humans are the monkeys of Gods amusement.

I do believe that God gave Lucifer the opportunity to prove his theory. After all Lucifer was an angel once, he got too big for his wings and got the boot. But he was created an angel. And so if God created all things, then was it a flaw in his design that he could create an angel that would go bad? I really don’t have all the answers.

This life we are living is temporary. We are here to learn. Living as a human being is a challenge for a soul. Consider for a moment how hard it is to live through the abuse of your child by a pedophile or to lose that child to death. That is one definition of hell on earth. And there are others, just ask yourself what your hell-on-earth would be.

The pleasures of the flesh are irresistible, so is this what entices us to incarnate here again and again or is there something else at work? Is there another reason why we would agree to do this over and over, knowing full well how hard it is? I believe that God has faith in us, that he doesn’t think we’re all a bunch of Lucifer’s.  I believe that our challenge is to grow, evolve and reach enlightenment while in human form. The task is equal to the challenge. Life in the flesh is only temporary, what is important is the evolution of our souls. We don’t take our wealth or our crimes with us when we finish a life, what we do take is our knowledge of lessons learned.

I don’t buy a big bang theory or a evolved from ape theory. There is no link, they haven’t found it because it doesn’t exist.

And I could go on and on but I’m done. I just thought I’d tell you why we’re all here.

The preceding post was inspired by Old Knudsen.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

the gift

I’d like to know who’s f’ing idea it was to call it a gift. This psychic business I mean. Just who does he/she think handed out the ‘gift’? And what the hell is so gifty about it?

Seriously people. Who wants to hear voices in their head all day long. Who wants to be harassed by a ghost that probably doesn’t even know he’s dead. Who wants to know what other people think of you, because hey, I couldn’t care anyway.

Some freaking gift. I consider a gift something I’d like to receive, something nice, smells nice or looks-good-on-me nice. Not this f’ing shit. This keeps me up at night. The monsters that you can’t see, keep me up at night. Or better yet wakes me up at night screaming in my ears. I love those. I haven’t had a dream in years, a real dream, a means-nothing-dream. What I get are premonitions or dead people with an axe to grind. Nice night.

Let me slow down here for a minute. It’s not all bad of course. Because, as with all things, come good and bad. There was the time I saw my boyfriend, who was away for the weekend, with his date. That wasn’t bad, I’m sure he had a wonderful time. There was the time I found a co-workers family heirloom ring for her and she was so grateful she later stabbed me in the back. Ain’t she nice.

And when the world knows what you are they treat you like a freak who’s looking for attention. Lucky me.

I’ve had enough of being drowned in the river by a lynch mob and hung by the neck till dead. Lucky me I can remember how that all felt.

You think it’s so f’ing wonderful to be able to see the future???? Well, the future is something that’s going to happen whether you like it or not, all you have to do is live in ignorant bliss until it does. I get to watch my worst nightmares unfold in some cases. I get to sit and think about it while waiting for it to happen. How would you like to hear blood curdling screaming in your ears for over two years before the event comes to pass?  hummmm, how would you like that. You only have to be tortured by an event after it happens, I get to be tortured by it for a long time before it happens and then get to live through it when it does. It’s like watching a f’ing train wreck unfold.

Oh, and no there is no gift. I’m pretty damn sure of that. I know that if you’re psychic, this isn’t the first life you’ve lived as such. This isn’t a gift, this is the way you’ve always been. Or at least I have

A final word: this is me and if I had to give it up I wouldn’t because I couldn’t. I would go mad without the madness.