I have just finished my study on Cancer. Talk about F**ked. Sorry but it is true. Only those who have it can understand. Cancer is the deepest bodily betrayal of itself.

Cancer is both merciful and vengeful.  Cancer is you. You are cancer. I did not quite understand what cancer was before my education. I was under the impression that cancer was an invading source that only destroyed and left PBS specials in its wake. Cancer is that. But is is so much more. Cancer is unique to every person. Cancer is customized like a pair of boots suited to fit.  The Latin term for cancer is  “crab”. No star signs here, no dreams of astrological. Just a wipe out disease. Both a murderer and it’s victim.

Tonight I shucked 3 pounds of crab. The spiny legs, the dark body meat. The crab cut my fingers as I was seeking its flesh.  I ate the cancer with butter over newspaper.

My education has given me a glimpse of the process of cancer and so much more into the cellular destruction of the body and the consequences of treatment. This was my last unit of study and test before my degree; quite rightly so as it was the most difficult to read, to know.

Still I wonder what is cancer? I have “learned” what cancer is. Or have I?

When I was a child I watched an HBO special (back in the 80’s) of a child, male, who suffered from leukemia. Leukemia is cancer of the blood and one of the most fatal if not the most fatal of cancers. For years I feared that I too had cancer. But that was all that I could conceive before I discovered what cancer was. I am starting to see what cancer is.

Cancer is our bodies destroying itself cell by cell.

Why would any body do this? I do not know, they do not know. No doctor, no pharmacist, no chemist. No one knows why the body’s cells do this. They speculate but do not seem to know for sure. They have speculative causes and theories but cancer seems to touch each patient differently.

Cancer has now become my life’s metaphor. I feel cancer in my life. People that are like tumors must be cut or radiated or chemically stripped off of me. Cancer has now become a very unique understanding for me.  But this is all it can do for me. I do not have cancer. But now I know what cancer is. My every day life. Those who have died have not died in vain to compensate drug companies and blasphemous power seeking charities. Those who have died have given me an understanding of what is my body, yet foreign and clumsy, a knowledge of it. Cancer, cancer of  all.

I have just received my degree and for this I say to you. All of you whom I will meet. All of you who have cancer.

I do not have cancer. I have a disease of the mind that will inhibit my growth and my life. You have cancer. I can relate to your demise. But I want you to know I will see you and your sick cells. I want you to know that I will be there for you if you need me. I want you to see me as well. I know what it feels like to have your own body destroy itself. I know what is happening to you. I am just a girl who has learned what cancer really is. But I understand. I see you. I see you.

This cancer. This is so much. Why do we have cancer?

This is the rub. Why? Cancer? Why?

Why do you find us… so unique?


November. November. November.

This is the season of pain. The season of loss. The season of absolute agony.

This time of year. The depression is here. Depression; though comforting is cruel. She is truly a mistress of madness.

November is death. November remembers all that it has claimed.

This morning I could feel one more piece of my mind slip away from me. One more piece of happiness drift away like smoke in a damp sky. In it’s place is now another little black hole. My mind is covered with little black holes. All of the memories come back in November. My month of misery. It took me years and years to drink away the memories. In the process I took out the good ones to destroy the bad ones. Now just hundreds of little black holes. Soon I will be a black hole.

Will I survive this one? Will I collapse on myself like a dying star?

I am tired of pretending I am something I am not. Only one person knows me and only two people care. It is my own fault. My evasive lies and manipulative self expression are all false.

Who would want to see this? I have wasted too much energy hiding myself, masking myself and covering my tracks. Now I have no idea who I am.

But it is November. What will she claim this year? What will she rip from my spirit? What will she spit to the floor as she washes her hands of me?

Maybe she has come for my broken heart. My mind is filled with too many holes now. She will not accept it.

Will I survive as she rips my broken heart from my soul?

November, you cruel bitch you. How I have missed you.

1 AM

It is 1 am.

I want him.

My rage has peaked. My sorrow is set. I want him.

There is this man I know. He is not my husband. I am ashamed to say it.

There is this man. He has long dark hair and eyes cast in shadows. I want this man now. It is 1 am and I am tired and burned. I seek to curl up in his arms. I seek him like flame craves dragons breath.

I want this man. He is evasive to me unless I try to find him. This man is no friend of mine, he is no love.

He is what I want and I want him now.

I will go and curl up next to my husband and I will pretend that this night has not been like so many others.

This night of cold again and pain again and loneliness again.

I will go now and lay next to my husband. But inside I will burn for this man I want.

He will never know how much I dream, ache for, love, admire, hope for and crave this man. My husband will never know. Thank God.

Thank God my husband does not know.

Thank God he does not know that he is this man I want.

It is 1 am. I am tired and aching. I want my love.

It is 1 am. I want Brandon.

It is 1 am. I am going upstairs to sleep beside the man of my dreams.

Thank God he knows.

MY One.

My All.

Signing Off

It is like a knife so I take a knife to my flesh and soul. Blood comes through the seams. The storm has past and I lay half dead and tired. God can have me now to send to hell. Go and take me God.

Take me GOD. Come and get me and send this unbaptized baby to HELL.

For I am lost in the madness of my mind.

I have lost.

Come get me God. For you must have the desire to send this bitch to the screaming ends of hell.

For all I have loved and lost you must judge me all the same and relinquish me to the minds of man.

I believed in YOU. Now you must come and get me. I am in the breath of madness.

Cut quick and clean. If I see tomorrow then we shall see if you are what they say you are.

I pray they are mistaken. I believed you were better than this. I believe in YOU. But the mind of man has taken you from my lips and now man’s word is pouring from your spirit.

So take me and my unbaptized, unloved, blasphemous soul. Take me to the pits of hell. I have seen the pits in my dreams. If you want me there then I go.

My God. Have mercy on my soul.


Why did we part ways?

I am here. You are here.

Why do we divide?

There was Him. There was Robert.

Did we not live him?

Did you and I not coil around him like dunes eat water?

Did we not both beg of him for Enya and oysters?

Why did he leave?

Did we exhaust him so?

I would never believe that of him.

As we can never lay him down. I wonder if he always knew.

He stays silent in our dreams. Never speaking.

I wonder.

Is he binding us?

Did he always know?

If he had stayed would this be so?

Our life. Together.

Why does he not speak in our dreams?

You cannot return him to me. I cannot return him to you.


Stay with me?

If we stick together we have a better chance.

You and me.

Stay with me. If you lose me then I lose you and we are both desert lost.

Stay with me. I will stay with you.

Maybe then he will talk to us again.

Take my hand and we will both go back to the desert. You and me. US. We will live in the dunes and dream of cats and wild things. Come with me. We are all that is left. We are desert bound.


The feeling of complete aloneness. It is so over bearing and crippling. I have just passed a manic phase and seem to be wandering into the depressive phase. It is most interesting to document this disease. This depression is a complete feeling of isolation and misunderstanding. Suicide? Nope.

Just the feeling of absent and quiet. Of tolerance and pain. Of nothingness and stillness.

I read today that we manics tend to be great artists. This I find funny, however, as of late I have found one.

This is of little importance. I am no great artist. I have no skill or defining ability. I am poor white trash with nothing to offer but a serious set of flaws and fat. I thought, I could make great on this…disease. But alas, no. Just a set of cuts on my wrist one month and a shopping spree the next.

Sometimes the thoughts of death as a release are comforting and necessary, sometimes they are crude and intolerable. I have no ability to know what I do. I can feel all the time, I am always feeling. But logic and rationality come every so often and at their own whim.

This aloneness. This horror of isolation. This multi-faced bitch in the mirror. This is me.

I can allow others to judge me and I pray that they do. As their perception of me passes fancy and creates a hole around me, they are validated that they are not flawed, I am validated that I am.

Dead things walk the edges of my mind as I wander through this misty place. Once my friend and companion, my mind is now unexplored and unforgiving. For lack of credit card and sun my mind has once again resorted to turning grey as the sky does this October. Now the excitement leaves and the silence sets in. Sweet, deadly silence.

Now as the season turns. I am alone. For the manic may come and go as it pleases, but only on a ticket. This is now the season of my depression. The aloneness coils around me like a blanket from hell.

I am here to greet her, my old friend. I feel safe in the dead of her loving embrace.

Work Vs. Home

I believe there are many people out there, be man or woman who would rather stay at home than work. I have tried this “housewife/houseman” method. For me, I completely disagree. I pay respect to any man or woman who can competently handle this day to day life of taking care of the “homestead”, for I cannot.

Work Vs. Home. I beg anyone, be you psycho or loon to counter this blog and write for Home. I write for Work and this is why. Challenge me people will you?

I have done the dishes.

Work – People are shocked at my willingness to do their dishes, to “better” the work environment and save them a moment of dish pan hands. I am praised.

Home – Cannot see the kitchen as the dishes have piled up past the sink and are crusted with egg yoke.

I have swept/vacuumed the floor.

Work – Wow, we pay “outside” people to do that. You just saved us serious money and the customers are not slipping on M&M’s. I have just boosted customer/employee safety and saved the company money by doing something myself. I am very competent. I am praised.

Home – Do we own a broom? BTW, where did those M&M’s go?

I have put the inventory away by myself.

Work – I have placed all products on the shelves, cleaned and managed thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. I am praised.

Home – Did you put the groceries away?

I have controlled expired merchandise.

Work – I have just saved the company hundreds of thousands of dollars over a very serious law suit involving an expired pregnancy test, condom and/or medication. I am praised.

Home – Was the bacon bad? Really? Are you SURE the bacon was bad?!

I have care for a lost child.

Work – “Thank you so much for taking care of my son, he just slipped away from me.” I am praised

Home – “Shut up mom!”

I have arrived at work early.

Work – I am showing great promise and my time management is above expected. I am praised

Home – Everybody is still asleep and I am forging for expired bacon.

I have handled a customer’s very serious complaint competently.

Work – I have taken a customer’s very difficult situation and “righted” it for them resulting in a repeat customer that now trusts me. I am praised.

Home – Did you buy center cut peppered bacon this time!?

I have set up the entire Halloween display.

Work – It took me hours to do this display and it looks beautiful. I am praised.

Home – I could not find a place for the fake spider webs as there are too many real ones. And yes, they are full of spiders and yes, they hiss when faced with the broom.

Two of my employees have called in sick.

Work – I have compensated for missing employees and run two separate departments while managing the store, I have gone beyond the call of duty. I am praised.

Home – There are TWO toilets in this house, you know.

I have received a raise.

Work – My management skills are above and beyond, I have been very successful and shown that I am a very dedicated and powerful worker. The company loves me. I am praised.

Home – My husband got a  raise.

Another Day

I am wondering this morning how many other people are unemployed at this very moment?

Ten years ago I could land a job without even applying for it, now nothing. I am either not qualified enough or I am over qualified for the jobs that do open up. This is all very annoying. My tasks today are to do the dishes and as my best friend informs me, to also make the bed. A few years ago at this time I would be half way through a latte and just going through last nights paper work after opening up Walgreens. The day would unfold with several tasks that had nothing to do with dishes or bed or a four year old that has just entered the “talk back” phase of childhood. I have been alerted that this phase is actually not a phase but a new fixture in our lives. Pitty is appreciated.

I have several years of management experience and consider myself a damn hard worker. These things do not matter any more. There are not enough jobs. I am not above myself and would have no problems working a position under a position of my previous experience but that does not matter. Then I am simply over qualified. You would think that putting an over qualified person in any position would be a good thing.

So my job options are now internet scam artist, work from home scam artist or any company that does telemarketing scamming. I am starting to think I should have checked “deceptive little bitch” on my future career application in high school. I have never been on unemployment but I sure have paid into it. If only I could get all that money back now. This blog sucks and now I am all pissed off and frustrated. I will try not to take it out on the dishes. Ah.. screw it, I will break em all

The Rancher

This morning was a very troubled morning indeed…

To sum it up the morning from hell partially consisted of a car that wouldn’t start, a bathtub that was very difficult to scrub, a bottle/can recycling session that resulted in a typical “sudden Oregon downpour” and the inevitable fall on a freshly washed floor that is now covered with mud, blood and lingering swear words. The rest of the morning, I will leave to your imagination.

Any who… A completely irrelevant story came to mind. It has in no way any connection to my morning but it was a story I always wanted to tell the world. Yes, the story you are about to hear is true and entirely not connected to the passing of my morning stress.

The dear friend of mine whom told me this story is third person, as the person who was driving behind the main character of this story and decided to stop her car to watch it play out. If there is a truly unique mystical way to the universe the Rancher will either read this some day and feel appreciated or has won the lottery, I am sure he would prefer the latter.

My friend was driving on I-5, north of Sacramento, Ca and witnessed a large truck hit a dear and send it flying to the side of the road, my friend, in shock pulled over in front of a pick up truck that had pulled over immediately after the accident. Needless to say the actual truck that hit the deer did not stop, as far as I am concerned, they never do. People suck, I hate them..Wait, I am telling a story. I will try to keep the emotions in check. Seriously, this story is one of the only reasons I have a VERY small amount of faith in humanity.

Ok, so she pulled over and and ran towards the pick up that had pulled over to find a man and his wife emerging from the cab. This is what she told me.

The man and his wife ran up to the deer to investigate while my friend watched and apparently, others pulled off the road to “see” what was happening. The man checked the deer to see if there was anything he could do, I think this is when they found out he was a rancher. The doe was pregnant and very far along my friend said. The Rancher proceeded to get a knife and his wife, a blanket from the pick up. My friend said, right there on the side of the busy freeway with growing spectators he proceeded to cut open the doe’s belly and then womb to remove the baby fawn. The fawn showed no signs of life, and get this, the Rancher proceeded to do CPR on the fawn, mouth around her little muzzle and pressing on her chest in rhythmic motions.

Apparently after several minutes the fawn started to breathe on her own. He had actually saved it. The Ranchers wife came in with the blanket and swaddled the baby fawn. My friend said everyone there clapped for the Rancher and a dozen questions came fourth but, my friend said, the Rancher and his wife were eager to get home to see if with a bottle and time they could get help the fawn survive. And so, they were off, as was my friend with a huge smile on her face.

This story for me came at a time where I can honestly say, I hated humanity. I can also honestly say that if not for these events, I would have even less faith in humans than I have now. I hope that this can bring some contentment to someones heart. At least if you are a person who is tired of selfish, cruel people and “road kill” as they call it. As for the man who killed the deer without stopping to at least acknowledge it, well, if at all lucky the Rancher one the lottery and the deer killer got a call from the IRS.

Thanks for listening.

Wait. I remember now. Soaking wet, on the way home I saw a deer in the graveyard we live across. What da ya know?

What was the body count again?

Did you ever wake in the am and have a foreboding sense that an entire war had just happened in your dreams? This happens to me quite often. Images of war, fire, blood and death. I awake this morning with my yellow eyed black cat, Ashes staring down from the window sail at me. It was one of those moments I have frequently with my cat, he graciously pokes his very cold nose into the corner of my eye, sneezes and then erupts in purr. Even with kitty boogers in my eye I am grateful the night of dreams has ended.

I first try to think of anything violent or disturbing that I may have watched in the last few days, drawing up a blank I try to remember the dreams, they are evasive. I have a habit of waking up around 3:00 every morning, which makes it easier to remember some of the dreams.

Last night I remember blood mostly. Suffering, pain, you know, the usual. I don’t get it. I want peaceful dreams of flying, the ocean and winning the lottery. But no, I get WW2, concentration camps and Hiroshima. Past life? No, thats a bit “out there”. So why am I having these dreams? I seldom went to any of my history classes in school, not that I do not find history fascinating but in High School smoking pot behind the school dumpsters was much more educational ( just call it sociology). If anyone has any ideas as to why these dream plague me or if they plague you, please let me know.

Good Morning.