Goldfinger Station on Pandora

There's no otherway to say this;
ruby ruby ruby soho, destination unknown ruby ruby ruby soho!
I'll never let you. I let you go, I'll never let you. Turn around go back on each other its a good idea break a promise to your mother.
I'm bouncing off the walls again. I'm looking like a fool again.
sparks fly, I hit the ground running... west bound leave the motor running!

Yes, Pandora you have given me the goldfinger station. Which in turn has given me all the music from a time and place in my life when everything was right and the world made sense and nothing was more important than figuring out how to ditch class and go to the beach. That's right. I own it. I almost didn't pass my Junior year of high school because I was hormonal and ditching class to go to the beach. :D and listen to Ska,Ska-Punk, and other forms of stoner music. . . or what was stoner music at my age.

POINT IS! much like playing the banjo, it's really hard to be depressed while listening to this stuff. It makes me want to bounce off the walls, dance around the room and in all aspects of life be joyful. yes, I have found my little slice of heaven. A memory that makes me smile, laugh, and want to see some of the people who got me into trouble, I got into trouble, and in general created chaos with. ( it really was fun you have to admit)
I'm finding it rather hard to sit still longenough to write this. I mean I kinda want you all to be sitting here listening to this. I want to be standing around at a show dancing around the floor like a goof, and being completely unawares of the guys standing there with that mildly horrified look on their face. I miss my dr martins, pyramid studded belt, short skirt, tank-top, and funky colored hair. Understanding that at some point we all must grow up and become adults. . . there is something terribly liberating about singing along to music at the top of your lungs thats completely designed to allow you to vent your frustration. it was perfect, it still IS perfect. I am in an awesomely stellar mood. . . because I found the best part of my teenage years well intact and perfectly enjoyable still. :D

-Leave the motor running cause I'm on the run! Hey driver, to the top of the world!

Untouchables

Ther is a place. A moment in space-time. Yes, that one right there. Where you finally came to your senses and realized where Home was. Some people have big profound experiences, others of us just know. Here's the silly thing. All this drama, and here I sit. The only one who seems to have recieved the memo that it was time to go Home. How is it that after telling me to not dive off the deep end I'm the only one thinking that cutting and coloring my hair is extreme? how is it possible that The craziest thing I've done is sunbathe on my patio? I feel as though things are a little backwards. and that's ok. I have my dog, I have my sunshine, I have a roof over my head and four walls supporting it, I have food in my cupboards,and a running truck. Does it get any better than this? I can only think of one thing better than this. Walking through those doors, recommend in hand, and knowing I am Home.

I Needed You.

Friends will pick up the phone and call not because you asked them to, but because they know you need it. Friends keep you busy and make sure you're mind doesn't have too much time to think about it when They know your thoughts are your worse enemy. I have felt the sting of loss this week. Two in one week. Literally. My good friend is now gone. Died in a car accident because someone couldn't call a cab after having one too many. My sister is gone because of whatever reason. . . THat's still being looked into since it only happened a couple hours ago. We'll know once the medical examiner is done. Call it caloused, or call it survival. Really I'm waiting for you to get the hint that I need someplace to break down. I need you to hold me while I cry about this so I can pick it up and move forward. I need a moment where you stand beside me. Even if you don't want it to be as my companion do it as my friend! Because the only other person who would do this is a couple states away right now. I reached out because I needed someone I could trust to help me. The anger I feel from the loss tells me that it's pathetic that men who used and abused me were better at reaching out than you. The part of me that recognizes that anger has NOTHING to do with you knows you did what you feel comfortable doing right now. And knowing that I have the warped sense of death I have you are thinking about your own issues and problems knowing I'm just that sick. I may view death in a similar manner as Johnny the Homicidal Maniac but I'm telling you now. . . I need you to be my friend. I need you to be a better friend than you have been this last couple of weeks. I need a best friend. I know You've been that. I guess this is my sick way of saying thank you.

0630

Staring in horror at my phone as I recognize a number I had hoped would disapear with the rest of my mistake to become a faint memory, and severe warning I am frantic. I can't bring myself to touch my phone let alone silence it.Even with out the name attached I knew who it was, and I was gripped by both horror and terror. I continue to stare at it with trepidation as the notice about a voice mail pops up and sounds. This isn't happening. All my progress! Everything I've done to weed this out of my life! It's only been a month granted, but still! This is NOT happening! I sit questioning whether to listen or just delete the voicemail. I listen. "Ma"'s toxicology report say's over dose on a narcotic painkiller, and an alcohol level through the roof. It wasn't "him", but it was that family. That woman was the only thing tying me to that family. I loved her dearly. I have no reason to still love, or desire that family, that coast, that person. Only Ma. . . and she's gone now.
I rememeber the first time I set foot in that apartment. three empty Bailey's bottles on the table, and a half finished bottle of Absynth. Three bottles of prescription pain killers on the table. I looked at 'him' and whispered " she'll kill herself is she keeps that up". She was an alcoholic and everyone knew it. They even made fun of her a bit about it. I said it not because I knew this phone call would come but because I knew what those things did to you as a human body.

I sat staring at the end of my bed for almost 30 minutes before I got out of bed, walked my dog, and got in the shower.

Someone asked me once what brought me back. Why did I come back to church after everything I did, and everything that happened. I couldn't answer. I tried to come up with something profound. There isn't anything profound about what happened. I just knew. I knew and so I couldn't stay away. The true conversion happens that way. Much like those in history who have looked back and said " I always knew". . . I knew. I KNOW. I've never been able to honestly say I didn'tknow. I wanted to not know. I wanted to have some great conversion story with heavenly lights, and angelic music, or profound life altering revelation! yeah, not so much. I've always prayed. I've always known. Perhaps that's the key. I've always prayed. Even when I was so drunk I couldn't think straight I could muster a " Father. . . I'm drunk. please. . " and then I'd lose conciousness. Even when I was higher than a kite I could still hit my knees star at the cieling and say " well you know. . amen". I have ALWAYS prayed. I will never have a profound decliration that envelopes my entire being. I will never have some cool story to tell the youth at a fireside. I will never be asked to speak on my conversion in sacrament meeting. But I will be able to look someone in the eye's, and say in all honesty, "How could I deny what I know?". Am I going back to that family? Never! Will I become the person I was, and hide and lie about what I know to be the truth? Never! And I believe I finally understand that the people who will truely love me are the ones who will never ask me to deny what I know in action, words, or deeds. They will support me in this lifestyle, and love me all the more for it. To a little brother who scared the crap out of me this morning. . . not cool dude, but it was good to meet you and I wish you well. To the person who brought Ma into my life. . I wish you the peace you desire, but seem to always fall short of finding. To the coastline that almost reeled me in. . . Maybe someday I'll have a reason to go back, but today is not that day and tomorrow doesn't look good either.
I know who I am. I know who I have always been. . . I was just hiding.

Reinventing the Wheel

I suppose this has been coming for a while. The pent up emotions and feelings that make it almost impossible to function in reality. Keeping this many intense things to yourself makes you a little crazy. At this point there isn’t anything to do but go home. The desire for someplace to put these items permanently is not just a desire it’s a necessity. I can not be here again. I can not spend time giving these devotions to someone and not have it work out. Stress is killing me. Unrequited everything! I am tired of fighting, and I am tired of losing the battles. I can fight no more. My trepidation at laying down my swords comes with the highest of prices. I can not find words to express the deepest sorrow I am faced with, yet as it stands it must be done. The refiners fire is intense and almost painful. I feel like I say it too much, but this can not happen again. I really feel like it’s going to stick this time. Things I wanted to do every other time before don’t seem as exciting. Instead of just going through the motions of the process hoping for a break, or waiting for something magical to happen I’m giving it up. I’m actually considering giving control to someone else. I am scared and terrified and unsure. I am holding my breathe in anxious anticipation of the worst. I have spent years believing that I was a creature of the underworld. Here I stand, judged, weighed in the balance and looking to make amends. Knowing that giving this to my Father is going to be the toughest thing I’ve ever done I can only imagine the affects that will eventually enact upon this stage of life. Honestly terrified doesn’t even begin to express the anxiety that overwhelms me. Trusting this to end well and not trying to act on things myself is never my M.O. This will either kill me or make me. The craziest part is the peace. It’s like standing in the eye of the hurricane. I am watching the winds whip violently around me. I am watching the lightening and the rain, and I am listening to the wind howl around me. I can hear it telling me I wont make it. I can hear it taking everything I love and hold dear away. Yet here in the center everything is calm. It all seems quiet. I can see and hear it all out there, but it doesn’t change this place I presently am. Hoping that this power of peace will follow me through the storm I am about to enter I can only hope my sanity, and my love will be there in the end. I do this for me. Because failure is not an option. I MUST be prepared to meet my God. I can not lose this Love. For me.

Happy

Some people believe happiness to be a very specific moment. You have the job of your dreams, you've got a house with three rooms you don't even use, a dog( or cat), children, trophy spouse, and you go to the best coffee houses, etc. But does this really bring joy? Yes. For some people this is joy. It is an expectation that has been filled. That is all that is required to find joy. To have no unfulfilled expectations. Knowing this I have thought about my expectations. I expect to be loved, I expect to be disappointed from time to time, I expect to have days when I can't stand you but I love you anyway. I expect to be tired beyond belief until I get a vacation. I expect to be completely satisfied by the feeling of your arms around me. I expect to find nothing more pleasurable than your company. I expect to feel joy and happiness at these things and more simple moments. Why? Because to me, this IS good enough. Because this is what I want. Believe that these things do not deserve me, or that I deserve better if you wish. I don't not require nor want better. I want this.

The Show Must Go On

Paint up that pretty face and smile. No one will be the wiser that you have discovered the truth. We are indeed creatures of the underworld. We do not know happiness. We cannot afford to be happy. There are bills to pay and mouths to feed. We achieve nothing by the traditional means. There is no grace sufficient to save us. We sit here in the underworld entertaining those who come to our doors, only to watch them leave. None of them stay, and why should they? If they indeed did so we would be transported by such grace to above our station. Smile a beautiful smile and know that they are want to tell the difference. There is nothing so blind as the intentions of these beings descending their righteous throwns to dabble in our existence. And though, yet, you were once of them they have made clear the stain upon your soul and transparently so are their means by which you are not forgiven. No mention of the wrong having never been committed before nor thereafter. So paint that face up and indulge in the most capricious of play. You will never be more than what some one will pay for you. Whether they pay for the healing of body or mind it makes no difference, they will pay and you will be left. Your goal is to get into a position where they will pay great sums to use you. Then must you clean yourself up and persuade the next to pay the same great sum or more. You will never be forgiven. That has been made clear.

And now,

There are moments in the quiet dead of life, that never make less sense. When we smile through the raindrops and cry through summer's splendor. Than perhaps once more we'll dance, the radio DJ never dedicating the tune. Sing songs that sprun the heartache, forever watching flowers in bloom. Once a time, a time ago, you left nothing behind but your memory. Then danced the scars of tomorrow, the smiles and blessing today. Giving all permission to harvest the memories captured by grace. Twelve steps to the door 4,5,6,7,8 pirouetting the raindrops of hell. Then perhaps once more we'll dance. The radio DJ never dedicating the tune. Sing songs that spurn the heartache forever watching flowers in bloom.

To My Brother Shane,

Shane,

I'm gonna throw a tantrum and you just have to listen. I'm your little sister! You don't get to leave until I've said so! I'm the youngest, I get my way. That's how this works... Just ask anyone and they will tell you it's true. I am not done having you as a part of my life here on earth. I still need my big brother so you don't get to be done here yet. Call it selfish if you want I've never denied that I'm the spoiled one. You've been my friend, my inspiration, my example, my hero, and most importantly. . . My brother. I've decided Shane, you have to stay here with me so I don't have to miss you.

Your youngest little sister,

Deb