Renaissance Festival Time!!!

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Its that time of year again! Spent all day roaming around, had a great time. Kids had fun. I love the atmosphere there, its so fun and silly.


I Don’t Hang Out With Girls……

So, I have a confession.  I am 32, and I don’t hang out with girls. Well, I have one friend whose a girl, and the women I work with, but in general? No. Women are catty.  Not all, but some. The ones that tend to find me are full of drama, willing to throw you under the bus to save face, and hate-filled.  A guy will tell you they don’t like you, maybe punch you, then you’re friends again.  A girl will tell everyone your deepest secrets, turn everyone else against you, then laugh as you cry.  Manipulative.  Ugh. Drives me nuts.  I say this because I have friends that are in the middle of a divorce.  They are awful to each other, but me, being a Libra, I am a peacekeeper.  So the husband has been bringing their child over when he has her on weekends. I talk to the wife on occasion, to check and see how shes doing. Out of this comes drama. I’m “taking sides”.  I’m a horrible gossipy human that has said this, this, and this.  Blah, blah, blah.  Really? I haven’t said anything, to anyone. I never do. What goes on in your world, stays in your world. So the claws have come out.  Oh well.  I have decided to just not talk to either. Much easier to ignore than get involved.


The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore–
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“‘Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door–
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;–vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow–sorrow for the lost Lenore–
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore–
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me–filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“‘Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door–
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”–here I opened wide the door–
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”–
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore–
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;–
‘Tis the wind and nothing more.

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door–
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door–
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore–
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning–little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door–
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour
Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered–
Till I scarcely more than muttered: “Other friends have flown before–
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore–
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never–nevermore.'”

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore–
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee–by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite–respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!–prophet still, if bird or devil!–
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted–
On this home by Horror haunted–tell me truly, I implore–
Is there–is there balm in Gilead?–tell me–tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!–prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us–by that God we both adore–
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore–
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting–
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!–quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted–nevermore!

Edgar Allan Poe

So, I love Poe, always have.  His writing is fantastic, and wonderfully descriptive.  The Raven will always be my favorite poem ever.  I watched the movie “The Raven” a few days ago and loved it.  To bring “to life” his most horrific deaths from his writings, wowzers.  Jon Cusack did a brilliant job.

Jon Cusack as Poe



My Raucous Sense of Humor

I find myself struggling daily with this issue I have.  Its a huge problem….I have a horrible sense of humor.  On one hand, I protest vehemently sexism, gender biases, and equality for all. On the other hand, I still laugh at fart jokes.  Its really awful.  I love shows like Family Guy, and some of my favorite characters on there are the most awful ones, Quaggmire and Herbert.   The woman chasing wild man and the neighborhood pedophile. Fantastic, what the hell kind of person does that make me? I get that they are meant to be “funny wrong”.  But does that make me wrong for laughing my butt off?  American Dad, which I love, and Roger the alien, is so, so wrong, but so, so funny.  Its funny because its wrong, and typically not something anyone would ever laugh at. How can you not love a murderous baby with a British accent and questionable sexual orientation?  A dog that seems completely human until he sees a ball? I love adult cartoons anyway, my husband and I watch Adult Swim every night, its hilarious.  We love Futurama, and Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Sealab 2021 and Squidbillies.  The weirder the better really.  Robot Chicken makes me laugh so hard I’ve cried.  If it feels that good can it really be that bad?

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My childish immature sense of humor has made me who I am today.  I blame The Simpsons really.  Had they not been so awesome in starting all of this, we would never have had Southpark,  The Ooblongs,  or Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law, and that would just be a pure shame….

A pure shame….



I came across this one day while looking for something online.  It makes me furious, that in this day and age, this crap is still around.  Living in the South, I have heard, all my life, various racial slurs and terms.  I hate it.  I hate it as much as a racist hates an interracial gay couple.  It drives me nuts to hear hate spewed from someones mouth, particularly someone under the age of 90, in regards to ones color, sexual orientation, or gender.   I have been appalled to see and hear the things said during the last two presidential races.  A woman that works at a local store and my daughters school complained loudly, in front of my child, “My grandaddy would roll over in his grave if he knew there was a N——– in the White House.”  Really? REALLY?  To hear a grown adult complain about a gay couple wanting to adopt, or get married, and the best argument they can give is that “Next we’ll have men marrying dogs”…..Ugh.  As if they’re not even human.  I mean really, who cares, right?  Might as well go back to lynching days, you know, back in the good ol’ times.

I guess it all begins as a kid.  If you hear it, you believe it. Surely you would think that as people become adults, and the world opens up to them, they would see the light?  That the black couple down the street aren’t drug dealers, or on welfare.  That the gay guy isn’t a child molester or monster due to his innate sexual preference.  But no, too many people refuse to think for themselves.  I feel a bit better knowing that my children have never heard a term like that from me.  I don’t even spew the hatred back at a bigot, just ignore them and go about my merry little way.  I do make sure to let them know that people think differently about all kinds of things, and isn’t it sad that that man is so closed minded?  Maybe if we all do a little bit it will eventually all die out. Hopefully.


Getting Older

Working for Hospice, I have learned a lot about life.  I watch my elderly people struggle to do the most basic things; eating, standing, moving, eventually it all becomes difficult.  I have realized that the smallest things should not be taken for granted.  Also, what you put out into this world is what you get out of it.  I see as they struggle to lift the fork to their mouth, and as their face changes when a tired, over worked nursing assistant starts to feed them.  The disappointment  that their bodies have failed and betrayed them.  The soul searing pain of seeing someone who can no longer take themselves to the bathroom, and seeing them have to ask for help, as they lose their dignity.  The pain in their eyes when their families don’t show up that day is heart wrenching.  As confusion sets in and they revert back to the most basic of stages, yet family members constantly upset them with the simplest phrases, “Come on, you know who I am! Say my name! You can do it!”; a well meaning but horrifying cheerleader.  I see spouses sit beside their husband/wives of 60 years, with tears in their eyes as they lift a spoon to their mouths.  Children now changing parents briefs and bathing them.

I have also learned from all of this that unfortunately, this is the circle of life.  I had a patient once tell me, “Once a lady, twiced a baby”, and she was right.  Its sad, and unfair.  To watch these strong people who worked their entire lives end up in a nursing home that sucks all of their finances dry, with dried food on their faces, it is awful.  But, I have also learned that the smallest things make a difference.  Walk by and hold someones hand.  Change a dirty shirt.  Scratch a back.  Give a smile, and say good morning.  Wipe their face for crying out loud.  Every little bit helps to make their day better, and sometimes even the most combative person just needs a little attention.  Every single person that works at a nursing home, or home care agency, or for hospice makes a difference in their lives everyday.

“Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.” Emily Dickinson”

“One need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not to be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place.” Emily Dickinson”

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls. The most massive characters are seared with scars.” Khalil Gibran”

“In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” Abraham Lincoln”

“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win. Stephen King.”

A few of my favorite quotes…

“Hope is the thing with…

I Miss…..

  • Riding my bike in the rain standing up with my mouth open wide as a kid.
  • My pogo ball…
  • Stomping in puddles and not having to clean up the mess mostly.
  • Really playing hide and seek.
  • Skateboarding without fear.
  • Rollerblading like a bat out of hell through town.
  • Excitement over a brand new game technology, like the Nintendo.
  • Watching USA Up All Night with Gilbert Godfrey and Rhonda Shear.
  • Trick or Treating.
  • The first time I was allowed to go all the way to the store alone.
  • Watching a scary horror movie for the first time ever.
  • Those kindergarten centers.
  • That first kiss/date/love.
  • My children as snuggling newborns.
  • My now almost 12 year old as a four year old.
  • That first year is our very own apartment….
  • Dressing up for Halloween and ACTUALLY finding houses that give out a ton of candy.
  • Scaring my friends while walking through the graveyard.
  • The time before political correctness.
  • Bill Clinton, at least he was amusing.
  • Reading Rainbow.
  • Pretending to be Indiana Jones.
  • Spending the night with my cousin and rewinding and re-watching the part where you can see Patrick Swayzes butt.
  • Making chicken and dumplings with my grandma.
  • Following my grandpa around in his wood working shop.
  • Playing baseball and basketball on a team.
  • Working because I wanted too, not needed too.
  • Middle school band trips.
  • Writing horror stories with my little cousin.

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More Horror/Gothic Musical Please!!!!

I have a hidden obsession….I really, really love a good horror slasher musical.  Like, really love them.  Rocky Horror Picture Show started it for me.  As a teenager my friends and I would dress up in our costumes and head to Salisbury where the little dollar theater would do a midnight Rocky Horror showing.  Dancing and singing along, we would have a blast!  I know all the words, to every song.  I rocked that gold top hat for all it was worth.

Over the last few years there have been new ones come out.  I’ve really enjoyed Repo, The Genetic Opera, and Sweeney Todd was quite good.  There is something wonderful about combining my love of horror movies and my love of musicals, with catchy lyrics and songs.  Repo is one of my major favorites, the music is amazing.    The movie is dark, and comical, with twisted humor, blood and gore.  Its awesome!  I love the casting, and Anthony Stewart Head does an amazing job as the tortured repo man.  It also really asks the question of where, as a society we are heading.  Beauty has become so important, what people do to achieve a standard is unbelievable.

Sweeney Todd is a work of art. Even when surrounded by a beautiful scene, they do a wonderful job of showing just what a vengeful soul he is, always making him appear dark, depressed, and mad.  Based on an old urban legend, it captures the imagination and is just brutal in showing his madness and rage.  The music is great.  Very captivating, the duets are beautiful. I love Alan Rickman, hes an amazing actor.