CURLY-HEADED WENCH

4:33pm:  

If you'd like to be added, comment.

9:40pm: Quote
"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."

Ralph Waldo Emerson


Okay, Mr. Emerson, I'll try.

2:50pm: nothing interesting, trust me
I've sort of gotten into the habit of staying up waaaaaay too late. I've had a resurgence of old friends come out of the woodwork, and I usually sit in front of my computer from 12 - 3 AM talking on messenger or chat. It's fun to catch up, but going to bed at 3 AM to be awakened at 7 by my own human alarm clock - oy vey.

Caden and I saw Ratatouille on Wednesday. I loved it more than he did. I had a crush on the animated chef, Linguini. Towards the end Caden elbowed my side sharply and hissed, "Can I go play games YET?"

I love how he can suck the fun out of an occasion that is meant to be FILLED with fun. :) An occasion made possible by MY MONEY. Luv him. :)

My sister is coming into town tomorrow! I get to see the little monkeys! My, how I miss them.

Did I tell you I started smoking again? Yep, I did! Only like 2 at night. What is it with smoking at night, whilst on the phone? I dunno.

Also? Pizza sticks might be one of the world's best snacks.

Okay, there is laundry to be folded and a book to be read. Maybe some Oprah. Can't wait to start reading The Kite Runner. All my book nerd friends recommend it.

BTW - do you have any summer reading suggestions? Spill it! :)

10:58pm: BOREDOM CAN KILL PPL. FOR REALZ.

curly_locks78 on yahoo

1:58pm: rambly and long. i had you and rambly, huh?
Hi. Nobody reads this, except maybe stobors, and I'll have to alert him that I've actually posted an entry.

I've been away from LJ for about a year. The last year of my life has been really unorthodox, exhausting as hell, but brilliant in ways. I did something I never thought I'd do; it therefore led me to know the job I undertook for 10 months is not something I could ever attempt again.

Live and learn, kids. That chapter of life is closed, and I'm hovering on what's just around the corner.

I spent 10 months living and working at a privately-operated faith-based (Christian) women and children's home. The women that live at the facility are able to stay there with their children (if they have any). There is no cost to live there. It is a year-long program. Most are there for substance abuse; a few have domestic abuse issues, are unwed mothers, or just have had a bad spin through life and want to heal. The place advertises as a "life skills and leadership training" program.

Basically? The facility takes in broken women, those that have hit rock bottom, the women whose families are hopeless and scared and just want their daughters, mothers and wives back. Most have been ravaged by drugs. Have lost their children. Have lost their husbands. Have almost lost their lives somewhere along the way.

These women are beautiful to me. Scarred, broken, sad, beat down by life and its cruelty. But scars are beautiful to me. Perfection makes me cringe anyway. Even the badass women, the hard women just out of prison, those with felonies and tattoos and hard eyes and even harder words; those women, I can relate to them better than any of my actual friends. I connect to their pain, and understand it. They don't have any pretense. They are who they are, and they make no excuses.

My sister went through the program, that's how I'm familiar with it. I felt called to work there, so I went.

Oh what I saw. What I experienced. Indelible footprints across the blueprint of my life, and for that? I'm strangely awed and humbled to have been a part of it.

I'll miss all of the women and their children. I worked with the children there, that was my ministry. And how I tried to minister! I hope I made a small difference. I received dozens of hugs every day from those kids, small kids, some far older than their years, wise and hardened but still tender and yearning. Kids who saw too much and didn't know any different. Yearning for love and affection. I doled out as much as I could. I was exhausted every day from it, but it was a welcome, needed exhaustion. My heart was heavy, but I embraced every bit. Stroking hair, rocking small warm bodies, and trying to soak up a bit of their pain. I was most awed by their resilience. Kids are so fucking resilient, so flexible, so able to bounce back and still laugh and celebrate and be kids, despite the shit they've seen. I learned so much from those kids.

Damn I miss them.

So I'm back. There's part of my story. Thanks for reading.

11:17am:

*crickets*