AM I HUMAN: YES

I can't read the __________________ cussword, swear, adjective, insult to mothers, _________, ____________ boxes websites put at the bottom of everything except when making a purchase.. (oops, I forgot, THAT one is in MY &^%&^(*&^ purse)

AND

I get pissed off wondering if I need to clean the monitor for sneeze marks.

In frustration I've tried listening.

THANKS DOUCHE-BAGS.

NOT

only can I NOT SEE.

I can't hear EITHER.

So I must NOT be human.

*CRUDE FINGER MOTIONS*

(and every one of George Carlin's words from his realization that you can't say things on TV..with explosive adjectives)

[FORM BLAZING SWORD]

while holding up fingers.

Putting Out: Still Uncool

Who knew that promoting a blog boiled down to simply:  Putting Out

Man do I feel as if I should have protection.

Trojans ARE so out.

Ha.

What does the rest of the hookers peddling their sites do?

Hahahahahahahha!

Accepting the Sandwich: Can I Spit it Out?

All the nostalgia in the world doesn't help at the moment.  Nothing seems to make everything from the past couple of weeks fit into my mind as being right.  I must admit I am referring to myself at the moment, as I ponder the crap sandwich which at the moment lingers in my mouth.

Lets Just Sum this Up:

1. I have to change everything and fast.  No easing into any routine.

2.  I have to find a wardrobe that reaches past knees for daily wear.

3.  I must find a way to make myself sleep, even if it includes a hammer.

4.  What is best for everyone else comes first.

5.  No more Jazz.

6.  Tons of Fake Enthusiasm.  The real stuff is for my daughter, so the world will have to pass by.

I do believe I just sold myself a new job:  sweater knitting.

Do I care?  Yes.

Choices?

All dedicated to the betterment of others.

Defense of honor?

Someone else got that too.

God?

In school daily.

So give me each day, this daily bread.

So I can make a sandwich.

And be grateful.

Grateful that I am warm.

Because I'll have sweaters.

Amen.

Nostalgia and Music

Events of late have made me focus on stinking thinking... so I was rooting around in my things and found a couple of things to make myself smile.  One of these happens to be a short video of my daughter's record player.  I was testing it out before her birthday.

Music is all over my house.  In all formats.  My daughter and I do alot of singing and dancing together.  She is so much fun to listen to music with simply because she will listen to just about anything.

So I must insert her first concert was Cyndi Lauper!  Yes, she's so unusual.  If you click the link, you can hear the first part of: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun*.  YES, it's blurry.  It's not the video quality... it's the music and the fact you can hear us both singing.  It was one of those moments to savor.

At Nattie's First Concert: Cyndi Lauper

*All rights to this song belong solely to Cyndi Lauper.

Now I Must Give Up Another Part

When I first dated John I took offense when he asked me to not wear a black hoodie that had a skull on it because it would damage my claims of maturity.  I was so mad.  It wasn't like I was wearing something that was too tight or has BUNZ written on my ass.  It was a special shirt Kenny gave me a long time ago.  I still have it and wear it.

I'm used to people judging me based on what they see and thier own preconceved notions.

But now my car is under fire.  Or my decal of Jazz.  A skeleton.  He doesn't look biker.  He doesn't proclaim pirate.  He's just Jazz.  A part of Betty.  Now seen as offensive.

Jazz, Betty's Backseat Driver

I've given up everything.  Must I go back to fuzzy dice?  Jazz is more than a skull.  He respresents my love of anthropology, of forensics.  He is textbook beautiful.  I can't plead a case on that though.  And of course, Jazz is cool.

How dare I be cool?

Finding Blog Reports Inspiring: A short Thanks

I want to thank the people that read my blog.  Opening reports and seeing the Google Plus interest has driven me to focus on always being myself.  My writing is wordy at times.  Then it's just wacky.  But honestly, just writing whatever I feel has been more relevant and looked at and I have so much gratitude for those of you who leave your marks on my pages.

I just felt compelled to find some joy in the middle of this emotional roller coaster I am experiencing (BTW in HDMI) [Hellbent Determined Mother's Incalescence].  I still don't comprehend how all this works and promoting my blog or even how to translate some of the things the reports say, but you guys simply make it easy.  Write more.  We'll tell you if we like it.  

Many thanks.

M. Faye Hall

the writer.

Have any ideas? Questions? Ask.

Try to show me your unsolicited body parts, well, then Kiss MY ASK.

The Silence that Hurts: I Feel Defenseless

My Name is Marsha Faye.  I have a wonderful little family that is all mine.  I have a husband and a daughter.  They are a source of boundless happiness and healing.  These are the happiest years of my 40 year existence on this planet.  I was broken without understanding exactly all the why until John and Natalie made me decide that knowing WHY was not something that defined me anymore.  Two people made about three quarters of my my life actually be just part of me.  To them I am amazing and in simple words, the WHY of amazing is because I am Marsha Faye and I love them.

Gradually setting down baggage hasn't been something I set out to do.  Those bags were my shields, my badges of courage, and the only things I could convince myself getting through gave me experience to protect myself and my little family from EVER knowing desolation.  But being loved by them has left a path of strewn baggage in my wake.

I sit here looking ahead and in the wee hours of the morning I realize how desperately I want that baggage right now.  I feel so exposed and unable to move.

My baby girl is going with me to check out a new school tomorrow because she was bullied and the weapons used to terrorize her were provided by adults.  How can I defeat this foe I want to just obliterate?  I can't.

I must accept this silence.  I silently have reviewed the wreckage I don't know how long I can do it.  Everything in my little family was shook in revelation.  How dare they do this?

They didn't dare.  Actually they didn't care enough to shut up.

And to me, It's like them saying Natalie isn't a person.

Nattie in her Church Dress

Well OK.  You insensitive unprofessional narrow minded weasels, she's not.  She's a little soul.  She's a symphony of emotional delight and depth of character.  AND SHE'S MINE.  I am sleepless and hurt but intent on finding a sensible way to SCREAM  every single thing two inches from your faces or with my hand on a Bible.  Not for mere vengence, but to keep another little soul from feeling what my Natalie has poured out.  Mostly, from my center, I want my daughter to know how completely I believe her.  I can't take the pain of what happened away, but I want her to see that I want justice for her and for my daughter to know that I will always be her champion.  I have raised her to believe that everyone is accountable, and right now part of the hurt is the fact those adults THINK that everything they did was acceptable and with good intentions.  From 5 in the morning I understand how ludicrous my anger would be to them.  You see, they are broken people that have jobs.  It's cut and dried.  They are done.  OH NO they are not.  They will speak and be accountable, in front of her.  Just leaving is not the right example.  It imparts we are retreating.  I want my daughter to feel empowered and know the choice to leave was a DELIBERATE one.

John.  I worry for him.  He wants this to be over and I know.  Oh my husband, I love you.  Its alright.

But for now, I must be silent.  I must wait and talk to my girl again.  I must be crypic in my blog... that's really my journal, because its not your business.  Its my pain.  It's her pain.  And I must release the pressure somehow without judgement on anything other than my inalienable RIGHT to my emotions, opionion and dogged defense of my little family.  

Double Edge Sword: Mom and Confidant

I am a parent.  I have a beautiful, wonderful eight year old daughter.  I can't choose just one word to describe her.  However, I will say I believe I didn't know the meaning of joy until the moment she was born.  I know she is destined to do wonderful things, because she already does.  Put her in a room and people light up around her.  She is captivating.  She inspires me to be the best person I possibly can be.  Note the word person.  Not Mother.  Mother seems too shallow and narrow-minded.  She brings out the very essence of who I am, then in some way, I move forward as a person.  A long time ago my husband told me he would be honored to be the father of my child.  I must add its an honor to be her Mother.

Nattie and I have something that just feels like magic.  God made me to be this little girl's mother.  I just know he did.

My vision in purple before Church

And now I'm jumping hurdles that seem surreal.  Guidance Counselors.  And my little girl has it all figured out, and does not like to be singled out.  What to do?  More to come.  I must get ready for the happiness of skating.

Big Magic Transforms into Ultra: My Computer

Yes, it took patience.  Patience I didn't feel I possessed.  Yet, here I am, my custom built Ultra Magic under my fingertips bathed in the soft glow of Blue LED lighting from my computer fan.  People rebooting has just become sexy.  And oh so quiet.  Delicious.

Slobber.

I can now formally request a premit to multitask.  I realize I made claim I simply couldn't anymore.  I'm delighted to say I was wrong.  Amazing how perspective changes an idea.  The ability to scan pictures while listening to music and just browsing the internet, all at one time.  So I am decidedly happy.

The journey to finding that one paid professional has come to a close with yet another success.  There are so many things I can do, and I try to be as independent and thrifty as I can.  The best advice I can offer anyone is to see when to find help for a project.  In the end, admitting feasibility and scope to yourself is the best strategy for success.  It's still my project.  I took the time to find the right Professional that saw my vision and made it happen.

Done right.  Finished completely.  I have a source of reliable dependable information that cares about me, plus all my computers.  Lovely isn't it?

Now to go focus on the next big thing, which happens to be rest.  I have spent too much time in front of this screen.  It makes it easier to unplug and leave knowing the next time I'm here, I have more time to spend doing what I love.  Writing.