Saturday, October 15, 2005

Voices of the Past - Volume 2

What to blog, what to blog, what to blog. My mind is all tattered about, as I try to figure out my afternoon topic, and it appears to be a rather confusing mess, at the moment. I have pretty much rested back into the comfortable shoes that once was myself, and after chatting all morning off to the side with one of my favorites people online, I am left in a quandary about this issue. I want to post a blog entry and I have nothing good to write rolling around in my head. I had filthy dreams as usual, but even though the titillation factor is still there for many, I am fearing that it is going to get old quick, if I don’t hold back some. The evils’s are being rather evil as usual, but nothing is standing out at me, as particularly funny. I’ve pretty much exhausted everything I know about astrology. I’m not going to willingly walk into the angry scary places, as that would be inviting issues, I deserve to be free from today, and there are still a gang of my online friends that are dying to meet me about an hour and a half from here, but God and the absolute downpour outside are saying, just let that one go. As noted my blogarific good times are kinda in limbo at the moment.

I can’t even stick with what I know, as it isn’t exactly, sit down town and watch the legs … um … I mean … people walk by weather out there. So here I sit with the many voices, the really loud one in the head yelling “DO THE SEX STUFF, YOU KNOW THAT IT FEEDS YOUR EGO!”, several quieter voices in the background saying things like, “How about another nice poem, you know you can do that now?”, and “Do one of those ones where you compare guys and gals, those are funny!” and of course, “Hey what’s wrong with a little self abusive self exploration, it works for Oprah?” and the most important one of all the little voice next to me, tugging at my shirt saying “Um … daddy … I wuv you.” So with that I will leave you all with a little story that is neither sexy, nor awe inspiring, but may make you think …

The day Imtoocutus was born, I was just a mess. It was a rotten pregnancy from the word go. EX2 became so bad when the Planned Parenthood mishaps had happened that I spent many months terrified that she was going to take to the place with a gun. So the fact that I am now sitting in the waiting room, with a huge book on baseball, is enough to make my hysterical mind go over the edge. In all reality though, we were also told the whole way along that this was going to be Gerald William Fink, which my wife wanted so desperately to be named after my father, and it was a little shocking when the pitter patter of little feet came running down the hallway “It’s a girl daddy, I HAVE A BABY SISTER!” was what was coming at me also from Big Evil, and I started running down the hallway after her.

I was the doting daddy, the man standing over the most beautiful woman ever, as she had just given birth to my second child, and had signed the adoption papers along with me, to make the Bigger of the 3 Evils mine as well in the months previous. I couldn’t do anything but stare at her, as she clutched the baby, and was so happy about here being for the most part healthy and screaming like the dickens. The last two did not make a sound, and although very healthy, that silence from a newborn is maddening to a parent. It’s un-natural, and you just don’t have the ability to accept it, when the world is so small. Life was going to be good forever, and I was happy enough to let Big Evil name this one, as the two choices I came up with were immediately shot down by The Mother of all the Evils’s. Sabrina Lynn was here, and for the next 3 months entire cities would know about it.

Unfortunately for the fragile mind of a young mother, Imtoocutus was NOT what the doctor ordered. She cried 23 hours a day, and she was very fussy. The only person that could get her to stop crying was her daddy, and that made the mommy all that much more depressed. The mind of a fragile woman was just scared and confused, and the bottle was the only thing to make her somewhat stronger in her plight to be a better mother. I don’t mean the kind you give the baby either, but the fact that Imtoocutus wouldn’t breastfeed, like the last one didn’t help as well. As her mind turned all blackened with fear, her emotions started flying apart, and her infidelities {although realistically there all along}, started cascading out of control. During the separation, Imtoocutus’s need for her daddy created chaos as she would be physically ill every time her daddy left her with her mommy, and she was becoming very much so ill from small birth defects caused by the miserable circumstances that Planned Parenthood created as well. When you tied it all together miss Deborah Lynn was fighting a losing battle, and had given up long before, unfortunately.

In the end, the post-pardom depression that that once beautiful woman was suffering ended up creating a very miserable world for her, that led to the loss of a marriage, the family home, the family that raised her, and in the end the children that she so desperately tried to own, and forgot some where along the way to take care of. I may have my faults but I still have my pity for those that fall by the way side. I also understand all to well that she has had ample time to recover from these things and may never, unfortunately. Just some notes to ponder as I look at the beautiful little girl who I am about to take upstairs so she can have her afternoon nap, and daddy can ponder the important things in life, like blogging and sharing dirty stories, have a great weekend everyone … Love Ya Mean It ;8o)