- Saying nothing is better most of the time, but it's hard to control.
- I think there may be something out there, but I'm not sure.
- It takes effort to leave the bed to pee.
- Sometimes I forget to eat. I'm not hungry.
- Writing is a recording of my thoughts.
- I dream, but then I run out of hot water.
- I was always a Democrat, but didn't know it.
About Me
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Deb Quotes
Deb Quotes "will be updated as often as I think of more thoughts."
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The Enemy
I don't know how to play the game.
I'm honest. Too honest.
I say what I feel.
I say what is on my mind.
I don't hold back.
It gets me in trouble.
I'm honest. Too honest.
I say what I feel.
I say what is on my mind.
I don't hold back.
It gets me in trouble.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Losing What I Found
I took Work & TV out of my life the last 2 months or so. It made room for others that were on the back burners. Some of the others were not even discovered. Some I never knew I had on the back burner.
I feel like "George" from Seinfeld when he took sex out of his life and became smart. I feel Alive. I not only discovered writing & drawing, but I've become more of a feeler. More compassionate. More passionate.
I cry more. Maybe I just notice more. I've always cried a lot. I don't hold back. I say what I feel. Sometimes it gets me in a lot of trouble. But that's just me. I've tried to hold back, not to express what I feel, but I'll just cry doing it either way. 2nd guessing myself. So why do I have to hide how I feel, when it makes me feel bad when I try too.
When I read or hear or see sad stories, I cry. Yea, I’ve always cried. But when I retell the stories that I read or hear or see, I cry when I retell it. I state it with passion and compassion. I didn't know I had empathy until I was on this crippled journey.
I have a weaker stomach since the accident. Well, at least I think I do, maybe I just notice more. When I see someone throw-up, I will throw-up. My cats vomit all the time. If I wait long enough, it will disappear. Cloe, my fat cat, will eat her vomit and my other 2 cats' vomit. But Cloe needs to loose weight. And I don't know how to do it without throwing her outside. (She will not go outside!) So I try to pick up vomit spills as much as I can so Cloe doesn't gain any more weight. I vomit when I do. Gag sometimes, if I'm lucky. It's just warm cat food.
I also vomit when I see my vomit.
I've become smarter too. Learning a lot. Going to Wikapedia and Dictionary and Google searching. Finding new worlds in blogs and facebooks. Trying to pronounce better. I still have trouble with that. I don't think mispronunciation is in my genes, although procrastination and going-on-tangents are.
I just found out the other day that I had 2 breaks in my pubis, one was dislocated and the other held my pelvis together. That is why I didn't have to have pelvis surgery, just a lot of bed rest to heal. And did you know that the pubis is, in fact, the pubic bone, one of the 3 bones in the pelvis. I broke the front and back of the pubic bone. No wonder I couldn't and didn't want to have sex for a few weeks.
My organisms are more intense, and more often. More passionate. Maybe it's because I haven't had an organism since the ladder fall. A lot of buildup waiting to be exposed. But I had no desire after the ladder fall. The pain became priority for the first few weeks. But now that I'm stronger, I can't get enough. They come faster and seem to never end. I have to end them without ending, because they just come, now and all the time. I've finally got my scream controlled. But when I first started coming, weeks after the ladder fall, it sounded like a girl was being murdered. I'm sure the neighbors thought something was weird, but didn't call the police.
So I'm afraid to go back to Work, when I go back to work. Not afraid of TV, but it'll be there after work for relaxation b/c of work. Sure I can find balance, somewhere? But when I do find the balance, I still will not have much time to have for myself.
It's not just work, the 40 to 50 hours I work every week. It's time after work that suffers too. The traffic. The drive home. The exhaustion. The relaxation and stress relief that you find or search to find. The nap or the drink or the couch potato you become just to relax and relieve yourself of the time and energy you spent at work. It's the thinking of the work too. The stress, the presentation, the preparation, the project, the dreams and nightmares....
I'm afraid of returning to work. I'm afraid of work b/c I will not be able to enjoy what I found, when I found myself.
I feel like "George" from Seinfeld when he took sex out of his life and became smart. I feel Alive. I not only discovered writing & drawing, but I've become more of a feeler. More compassionate. More passionate.
I cry more. Maybe I just notice more. I've always cried a lot. I don't hold back. I say what I feel. Sometimes it gets me in a lot of trouble. But that's just me. I've tried to hold back, not to express what I feel, but I'll just cry doing it either way. 2nd guessing myself. So why do I have to hide how I feel, when it makes me feel bad when I try too.
When I read or hear or see sad stories, I cry. Yea, I’ve always cried. But when I retell the stories that I read or hear or see, I cry when I retell it. I state it with passion and compassion. I didn't know I had empathy until I was on this crippled journey.
I have a weaker stomach since the accident. Well, at least I think I do, maybe I just notice more. When I see someone throw-up, I will throw-up. My cats vomit all the time. If I wait long enough, it will disappear. Cloe, my fat cat, will eat her vomit and my other 2 cats' vomit. But Cloe needs to loose weight. And I don't know how to do it without throwing her outside. (She will not go outside!) So I try to pick up vomit spills as much as I can so Cloe doesn't gain any more weight. I vomit when I do. Gag sometimes, if I'm lucky. It's just warm cat food.
I also vomit when I see my vomit.
I've become smarter too. Learning a lot. Going to Wikapedia and Dictionary and Google searching. Finding new worlds in blogs and facebooks. Trying to pronounce better. I still have trouble with that. I don't think mispronunciation is in my genes, although procrastination and going-on-tangents are.
I just found out the other day that I had 2 breaks in my pubis, one was dislocated and the other held my pelvis together. That is why I didn't have to have pelvis surgery, just a lot of bed rest to heal. And did you know that the pubis is, in fact, the pubic bone, one of the 3 bones in the pelvis. I broke the front and back of the pubic bone. No wonder I couldn't and didn't want to have sex for a few weeks.
My organisms are more intense, and more often. More passionate. Maybe it's because I haven't had an organism since the ladder fall. A lot of buildup waiting to be exposed. But I had no desire after the ladder fall. The pain became priority for the first few weeks. But now that I'm stronger, I can't get enough. They come faster and seem to never end. I have to end them without ending, because they just come, now and all the time. I've finally got my scream controlled. But when I first started coming, weeks after the ladder fall, it sounded like a girl was being murdered. I'm sure the neighbors thought something was weird, but didn't call the police.
So I'm afraid to go back to Work, when I go back to work. Not afraid of TV, but it'll be there after work for relaxation b/c of work. Sure I can find balance, somewhere? But when I do find the balance, I still will not have much time to have for myself.
It's not just work, the 40 to 50 hours I work every week. It's time after work that suffers too. The traffic. The drive home. The exhaustion. The relaxation and stress relief that you find or search to find. The nap or the drink or the couch potato you become just to relax and relieve yourself of the time and energy you spent at work. It's the thinking of the work too. The stress, the presentation, the preparation, the project, the dreams and nightmares....
I'm afraid of returning to work. I'm afraid of work b/c I will not be able to enjoy what I found, when I found myself.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Jail
I just finished my home improvement project and went outside to see the white appliances in line. There is a rat and he jumps on me and lands on my back. He goes down my white dress. I squirm and do the Elaine dance to free myself. Another rat is bigger and his mid section is a vomit orange. He jumps toward me and I catch him with my left hand. His mouth had opened and tightly held a grip to my thumb. I hang on to the dirty rat as he digs into my skin. And I wondered if I am safe.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
The Charm of the Farm
Bart had walked ahead of me, a normal walk, to get to Wayne's house, 2 doors down from where Bart lives. Wayne was on his front porch chatting with another neighbor. I wanted to thank Wayne for carrying me up & down the steps a couple of times when I was first injured from my ladder fall accident.
Bart was cheering me on at the huddle, "come on my little Turtle" as I slowly caned my way to Wayne's house.
I told Wayne how much I appreciated his kindness. He said it was nothing; he knew how I felt. He broke his leg before and didn't go to the hospital until 20 hours later. Then the next year, he broke the same leg around the same place.
"Dis time I droves my self to da hospital with my duce and a quata." Wayne described.
In confusion, Bart and I replied, "What?" at the same time.
Wayne explained further, "My duce and a quarta. My bruir."
I was still confused, but Bart understood. "You know deb, a tall boy, a beer."
"Oh, yea" I understood. He drove himself to the hospital with a tall boy.
"Not my brueer, my bruirc." Wayne corrected us.
"What?"
"Brewk."
I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't understand?" Bart and I said in question.
The other neighbor replied, "You know, bru-ok."
We were both still clueless.
"You knows, a big choar" Wayne chimed-in again.
"Ooooh, a Buick." Bart and I finally got it.
"I use to have a 1979 Oldsmobile Delta 88 back in the day." I related to his story.
"Den you knows what I'm talkin' bout."
"Yea you right." I finally agreed. High 5...anyone?
I forgot that Bart had told me that the neighbors called him Burt.
Bart was cheering me on at the huddle, "come on my little Turtle" as I slowly caned my way to Wayne's house.
I told Wayne how much I appreciated his kindness. He said it was nothing; he knew how I felt. He broke his leg before and didn't go to the hospital until 20 hours later. Then the next year, he broke the same leg around the same place.
"Dis time I droves my self to da hospital with my duce and a quata." Wayne described.
In confusion, Bart and I replied, "What?" at the same time.
Wayne explained further, "My duce and a quarta. My bruir."
I was still confused, but Bart understood. "You know deb, a tall boy, a beer."
"Oh, yea" I understood. He drove himself to the hospital with a tall boy.
"Not my brueer, my bruirc." Wayne corrected us.
"What?"
"Brewk."
I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't understand?" Bart and I said in question.
The other neighbor replied, "You know, bru-ok."
We were both still clueless.
"You knows, a big choar" Wayne chimed-in again.
"Ooooh, a Buick." Bart and I finally got it.
"I use to have a 1979 Oldsmobile Delta 88 back in the day." I related to his story.
"Den you knows what I'm talkin' bout."
"Yea you right." I finally agreed. High 5...anyone?
I forgot that Bart had told me that the neighbors called him Burt.
Friday, February 13, 2009
A Few Good Days
"GIT your ASS into GEAR girl!" Doc said, more like a command. "3 weeks, you hear me, 3 WEEKS! That's it."
"Can't I Milk my bones a little more, Doc? Can't I?" I pleaded and then added "and speaking of milk, I need to run some errands."
"You CAN't Run!" The Sergeant shouted.
I wondered if the next line was: "You CAN’t handle the truth?"
"You CAN't even walk Fast!" He continued his shout.
Nope, I guess not.
"Or climb ladders" I chimed-in confidently. Then thought about my decision I had made, oops, I shouldn't have said that.
"3 WEEKS then back to Business." His voice became louder. He didn't scare me though.
"But I like being a crip." I stood up for myself. "I like being a gutter punk. I like to sponge off society and git my weekly check from the government."
"You NO Gutter punk!" Doc raised his voice again. Is he going to demand 10 push-ups from me? He quickly pulled off my cap. "You DON'T HAVE dreadlocks!"
I snapped back at him, "Well I USE TOO!" Bart had cleaned me up a month ago. I calmed down a little, "But I still have HAIR under my ARM PITS!" I lifted up my arm and stuck my dark weeds into his face. "You see." I was so proud. I grew them in the last 2 months. They didn't need any water either.
"FOCUS, FOCUS" Doc blasted and snapped his fingers. A spit left his mouth and hit me on the cheek. Now that's too close, I mean, he's just too damn close to me.
"I want to know what YOU CAN do, young lady."
"Thanks" I said with a smile. He called me young.
He grinned and not in a good way. His face started turning red. Am I a small child, and is he my dad and getting aggravated with me?
"Wellll Doccc...
I can write, I can read.
I can draw, that ain't all..."
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" Doc interrupted with his roar.
I made a face at him when he wasn't looking. And mocked him too.
"Well I can rock and I can roll.
I can drag and I can tag.
I can stand, on demand.
I can crawl and I can howler.
I can walk with my walker.
I can bend; I can do a half spin.
I can crack and I can pop.
I can do hip-hop, but I can't flip" Doc screamed, "I said CAN!"
"FLOP--I CAN USE a rail. I can hurt my tail.
I can use a cane. It's a real pain.
I can walk slow. I can hang with Joe.
I can be fun. I need some sun.
I can limp and I'm A GIMP!"
Doc’s strong emotion expressed a rhetorical question, "THAT'S ALL?!“ The Grouch slightly paused and then continued with his loud vocals “I don't want to see your face for 3 WEEKS. YOU'RE DISMISSED. Now, git out of my sight & quarters, and don't hit your behind on the way out!"
"Yes Sir." My gimp ass wrist gave him a salute.
"Can't I Milk my bones a little more, Doc? Can't I?" I pleaded and then added "and speaking of milk, I need to run some errands."
"You CAN't Run!" The Sergeant shouted.
I wondered if the next line was: "You CAN’t handle the truth?"
"You CAN't even walk Fast!" He continued his shout.
Nope, I guess not.
"Or climb ladders" I chimed-in confidently. Then thought about my decision I had made, oops, I shouldn't have said that.
"3 WEEKS then back to Business." His voice became louder. He didn't scare me though.
"But I like being a crip." I stood up for myself. "I like being a gutter punk. I like to sponge off society and git my weekly check from the government."
"You NO Gutter punk!" Doc raised his voice again. Is he going to demand 10 push-ups from me? He quickly pulled off my cap. "You DON'T HAVE dreadlocks!"
I snapped back at him, "Well I USE TOO!" Bart had cleaned me up a month ago. I calmed down a little, "But I still have HAIR under my ARM PITS!" I lifted up my arm and stuck my dark weeds into his face. "You see." I was so proud. I grew them in the last 2 months. They didn't need any water either.
"FOCUS, FOCUS" Doc blasted and snapped his fingers. A spit left his mouth and hit me on the cheek. Now that's too close, I mean, he's just too damn close to me.
"I want to know what YOU CAN do, young lady."
"Thanks" I said with a smile. He called me young.
He grinned and not in a good way. His face started turning red. Am I a small child, and is he my dad and getting aggravated with me?
"Wellll Doccc...
I can write, I can read.
I can draw, that ain't all..."
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" Doc interrupted with his roar.
I made a face at him when he wasn't looking. And mocked him too.
"Well I can rock and I can roll.
I can drag and I can tag.
I can stand, on demand.
I can crawl and I can howler.
I can walk with my walker.
I can bend; I can do a half spin.
I can crack and I can pop.
I can do hip-hop, but I can't flip" Doc screamed, "I said CAN!"
"FLOP--I CAN USE a rail. I can hurt my tail.
I can use a cane. It's a real pain.
I can walk slow. I can hang with Joe.
I can be fun. I need some sun.
I can limp and I'm A GIMP!"
Doc’s strong emotion expressed a rhetorical question, "THAT'S ALL?!“ The Grouch slightly paused and then continued with his loud vocals “I don't want to see your face for 3 WEEKS. YOU'RE DISMISSED. Now, git out of my sight & quarters, and don't hit your behind on the way out!"
"Yes Sir." My gimp ass wrist gave him a salute.
The Interview
In April, 2002, almost 7 years ago, you were raped. You lost your freedom and life for a couple of years. But what did you find from this god-awful experience?
I found family.
In August, 2005, 3.5 years ago, Katrina rolled-in. You lost your house and all of your contents and some could not be replaced. What did you find from this sad experience?
I found friendships.
In December 2008, 2 months ago, you fell off a ladder 5 feet from the ground. You broke 3 bones, 2 in the pelvis and 1 in the wrist. You could not leave the bed for 8 days. You didn't bathe for 2 weeks. You peed & pooed in a pan. And your hair was mangy & knotted-up. You did not watch TV. You did not go outside much. What did you find from this horrific experience?
I found myself.
I found family.
In August, 2005, 3.5 years ago, Katrina rolled-in. You lost your house and all of your contents and some could not be replaced. What did you find from this sad experience?
I found friendships.
In December 2008, 2 months ago, you fell off a ladder 5 feet from the ground. You broke 3 bones, 2 in the pelvis and 1 in the wrist. You could not leave the bed for 8 days. You didn't bathe for 2 weeks. You peed & pooed in a pan. And your hair was mangy & knotted-up. You did not watch TV. You did not go outside much. What did you find from this horrific experience?
I found myself.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The Decision
It's hard for me to make a decision.
I stress out.
I want to make the right decision but it's a difficult decision to make.
The wrong decision is a decision I have to live with.
And not making a decision is a decision I make by choice.
It's hard for me
to make a decision.
A hard decision
isn't an easy decision.
And an easy decision
isn't hard at all.
But the decision
is a decision
by any decision
whether I make it
or not.
I stress out.
It's hard
for me
to make
a decision.
I want
to make
the best
decision.
But often
I make
the worse
decision.
I search
for the
best decision.
But the
frustrated
decision is
often made.
I stress
out.
It's hard for
me
to make a
decision.
I have too
many
decisions to make.
Eeny,
meeny, miny, moe
I
can't make a
decision
by it's toe...
It's hard for
me to make
a decision. But
my decision is
finally made. My
decision is to
NOT make a
decision when there's
a decision I
have to make.
I stress out.
It's haRd 4 mE
_______2 MakE
_______1
_______ decision.
Butt
___ I think I mAde
___mY
___Decision.
b U t t __ I ' m
uN-
___sUre
_______of the uNwanted
___de-
_____cisiOn
________I finally made.
____i
___StReSS
________________ouT_______________.
------Sin-cerely,
____________inDe-
__________cisivE
___________deB
To: all
of the in-
decisive peo-ple
out there.
Deb quotes, "I feel your pain...I feel like this just about everyday."
+++++A+true poem about The True Deb.+++++
___________a
__________pOem
___________by deb
PS __I'm unsure of the unwanted decision I think I made. I made that decision but I'll have to think about that decision twice, as I think about my first decision that I made, if indeed I made the right, the hard, the best decision of all. My second decision thinks that I made the wrong, frustrated, unsure, unwanted decision. Too many decisions for me to decide. I can't decide. I'm not making that decision at all. hmmm.... ;)
Influenced
by: home
re-novations,
phone-
calls,
stress,
family,
fi-
nances,
work, relations-
ships,
life....
....to be continued...I think. Maybe. I don't know.
I stress out.
I want to make the right decision but it's a difficult decision to make.
The wrong decision is a decision I have to live with.
And not making a decision is a decision I make by choice.
It's hard for me
to make a decision.
A hard decision
isn't an easy decision.
And an easy decision
isn't hard at all.
But the decision
is a decision
by any decision
whether I make it
or not.
I stress out.
It's hard
for me
to make
a decision.
I want
to make
the best
decision.
But often
I make
the worse
decision.
I search
for the
best decision.
But the
frustrated
decision is
often made.
I stress
out.
It's hard for
me
to make a
decision.
I have too
many
decisions to make.
Eeny,
meeny, miny, moe
I
can't make a
decision
by it's toe...
It's hard for
me to make
a decision. But
my decision is
finally made. My
decision is to
NOT make a
decision when there's
a decision I
have to make.
I stress out.
It's haRd 4 mE
_______2 MakE
_______1
_______ decision.
Butt
___ I think I mAde
___mY
___Decision.
b U t t __ I ' m
uN-
___sUre
_______of the uNwanted
___de-
_____cisiOn
________I finally made.
____i
___StReSS
________________ouT_______________.
------Sin-cerely,
____________inDe-
__________cisivE
___________deB
To: all
of the in-
decisive peo-ple
out there.
Deb quotes, "I feel your pain...I feel like this just about everyday."
+++++A+true poem about The True Deb.+++++
___________a
__________pOem
___________by deb
PS __I'm unsure of the unwanted decision I think I made. I made that decision but I'll have to think about that decision twice, as I think about my first decision that I made, if indeed I made the right, the hard, the best decision of all. My second decision thinks that I made the wrong, frustrated, unsure, unwanted decision. Too many decisions for me to decide. I can't decide. I'm not making that decision at all. hmmm.... ;)
Influenced
by: home
re-novations,
phone-
calls,
stress,
family,
fi-
nances,
work, relations-
ships,
life....
....to be continued...
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Fear
It was dark and I couldn't see.
I waited but my eyes did not adjust to
the darkness that was before me.
I got out of bed.
I had no direction as to what
direction I was walking towards.
Somehow I made it down the small hall
and into the next room. The TV
was laying face down on the floor.
Someone had been here.
Someone had been here while I was here.
And with a quick second thought
someone may still be here.
And I'm here.
But if someone is still here,
what direction do I go
to get out of here.
I can't see. I can't see where
someone may be.
Maybe I should try to go forward
toward the front door, to the nearest
way out. Someone from behind me
grabbed me.
I waited but my eyes did not adjust to
the darkness that was before me.
I got out of bed.
I had no direction as to what
direction I was walking towards.
Somehow I made it down the small hall
and into the next room. The TV
was laying face down on the floor.
Someone had been here.
Someone had been here while I was here.
And with a quick second thought
someone may still be here.
And I'm here.
But if someone is still here,
what direction do I go
to get out of here.
I can't see. I can't see where
someone may be.
Maybe I should try to go forward
toward the front door, to the nearest
way out. Someone from behind me
grabbed me.
Cripps du Vieux
Sunday, February 8, 2009
It Sucks To Be Me
Movie star life is great. But it does have its drawbacks. You lose your freedom of being a normal person. Some of your good friends don't want to hang out with you, b/c they don't want to hang out with a movie star. They just want to hang out with their friend. It's the price I pay every day of my life when I recently was discovered. My friends don't want the entourage, the big production, or the hassle that comes along with my fame. Some of my friends just avoid my phone calls all together, while others just make excuses not to hang with me and my guards.
Just recently, I invited my friends to tag along with me and my buddies to see the Krewe de Vieux Parade. The first Mardi Gras Parade that rolls out every year. It's my favorite parade yet. The parade route is near my mansion home, roughly 2 blocks away. Very easily to get to. And you can make stops along the way if you need to. Stops like bars for food & drink and convenience stores for necessities like cigarettes, snacks, drinks, film, & tampons. And homes, bushes & sidewalks for emergency purposes like teeing and gagging.
I called 7 of my good friends and one said yes. But the other 6, well...some of them didn't even bother to answer the phone. And some did. It was very interesting. I got all the excuses in the book as to why they couldn't meet up with me and my people at the same parade they were attending as I was. I heard excuses like "you live in a bad area." I laugh inside. The whole parade is in the bad area. "It's dark for 4 blocks." You mean dark as in night? Well, it's dark in every block at night. But the well-lit streets, the vehicle headlights, and the houses & business lights nearby provide all the light you need. "It's just too dangerous." Well, aren't you from New Orleans? And didn't you live uptown in New Orleans all of your younger life? And aren't you going to New Orleans to see a New Orleans parade? Everywhere in New Orleans is dangerous, even your chosen New Orleans' spot to see this New Orleans' parade.
My area is probably safer now on a parade night than a non-parade average night. There are more people and more cops out on the streets. More people walk in groups. And the cops are practically at every block of the parade route. And more police cars circle the nearby parade routes, which includes the area of where my house is located and the route we would take to get to this parade.
But I get it. And I don't blame my friends. It's really the fact that I'm a movie star and my friends want to have freedom and enjoy themselves without all the fiasco that I have to go thru. They have to be part of the bullshit to hang with me. Even being near me in public is a big deal and a big unwanted nuisance. I know, because I feel the same way as they do. I don't want to be held back from my freedom, which I recently was robbed of. And I don't want to hold anybody else back from their freedom. I want my friends to enjoy themselves.
Being a Movie star is tough. You're trapped inside. You can't just go out into public without all the hype. You can't just walk like a normal person and be treated like a normal person. People stare at you. Strangers talk to you. And they talk and whisper about you, in front of you, in their presence of you.
I get it. But movie star life still sucks. If I had a choice to be a movie star or a successful working unknown actor, I would choose a successful working unknown actor. Then my life would be normal.
Just recently, I invited my friends to tag along with me and my buddies to see the Krewe de Vieux Parade. The first Mardi Gras Parade that rolls out every year. It's my favorite parade yet. The parade route is near my mansion home, roughly 2 blocks away. Very easily to get to. And you can make stops along the way if you need to. Stops like bars for food & drink and convenience stores for necessities like cigarettes, snacks, drinks, film, & tampons. And homes, bushes & sidewalks for emergency purposes like teeing and gagging.
I called 7 of my good friends and one said yes. But the other 6, well...some of them didn't even bother to answer the phone. And some did. It was very interesting. I got all the excuses in the book as to why they couldn't meet up with me and my people at the same parade they were attending as I was. I heard excuses like "you live in a bad area." I laugh inside. The whole parade is in the bad area. "It's dark for 4 blocks." You mean dark as in night? Well, it's dark in every block at night. But the well-lit streets, the vehicle headlights, and the houses & business lights nearby provide all the light you need. "It's just too dangerous." Well, aren't you from New Orleans? And didn't you live uptown in New Orleans all of your younger life? And aren't you going to New Orleans to see a New Orleans parade? Everywhere in New Orleans is dangerous, even your chosen New Orleans' spot to see this New Orleans' parade.
My area is probably safer now on a parade night than a non-parade average night. There are more people and more cops out on the streets. More people walk in groups. And the cops are practically at every block of the parade route. And more police cars circle the nearby parade routes, which includes the area of where my house is located and the route we would take to get to this parade.
But I get it. And I don't blame my friends. It's really the fact that I'm a movie star and my friends want to have freedom and enjoy themselves without all the fiasco that I have to go thru. They have to be part of the bullshit to hang with me. Even being near me in public is a big deal and a big unwanted nuisance. I know, because I feel the same way as they do. I don't want to be held back from my freedom, which I recently was robbed of. And I don't want to hold anybody else back from their freedom. I want my friends to enjoy themselves.
Being a Movie star is tough. You're trapped inside. You can't just go out into public without all the hype. You can't just walk like a normal person and be treated like a normal person. People stare at you. Strangers talk to you. And they talk and whisper about you, in front of you, in their presence of you.
I get it. But movie star life still sucks. If I had a choice to be a movie star or a successful working unknown actor, I would choose a successful working unknown actor. Then my life would be normal.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
The Marriage
Stinky & I have been involved with each other for 15 years. We’ve known each other since a young age. We have a great relationship. He’s definitely the man of the house. What he says goes. Except when he tries to eat plastic. I try not to give him a hard time; he’s bulimic. But I won’t stand for his tantrum right away. I yell at him. The yell usually stops him; he just wants attention from me. I’ve been working all day and he’s been working all day; he just wants to relax in our relationship of passion & pizzazz. It’s hard to spend quality time in personal relationships. It’s about trust, commitment, & compromise. I see his point; our relationship should come first over our careers because we love each other very much. We depend on each other.
We’ve developed a bed routine over the years. Yes, we still sleep together, every night, just like any passionate couple. We lie at the foot of the bed and spoon each other every night. He stretches his beautiful long black body close to me. We hold hands too during the night. I put my right hand into his left hand. I put my right wedding finger into the palm of his left hand. He holds on to my finger as he squeezes & caresses his fingers up against mine. It’s romantic. It’s true love. Every night.
But two nights ago, I had a bad dream about Stinky. The usual bed routine where we stretch-out & spoon each other made the dream. However, this time, Stinky was cold and dead.
I woke up immediately (no time to waste) and freaked out. Just as the dream predicted, Stinky was laying there beside me in his usual spot. I touched him; he didn’t move. And he was cold. I quickly started panicking with fear inside. I shook his lower half body. Finally, I got a rise out of him. Stinky woke up and was startled by me. It was as if I had just awakened a cranky old man. He stared me down and then his eyes began to speak, “You know I was trying to get some sleep deb. I was in a heavy state when you rudely woke my ass up. I was gettin’ some pussy. ‘Thanks’ for waking me up; are you happy now?” Yes, I’m so happy. I hugged Stinky so good, put my arm underneath him, and spooned him. I felt his warm body, and then we held hands.
We’ve developed a bed routine over the years. Yes, we still sleep together, every night, just like any passionate couple. We lie at the foot of the bed and spoon each other every night. He stretches his beautiful long black body close to me. We hold hands too during the night. I put my right hand into his left hand. I put my right wedding finger into the palm of his left hand. He holds on to my finger as he squeezes & caresses his fingers up against mine. It’s romantic. It’s true love. Every night.
But two nights ago, I had a bad dream about Stinky. The usual bed routine where we stretch-out & spoon each other made the dream. However, this time, Stinky was cold and dead.
I woke up immediately (no time to waste) and freaked out. Just as the dream predicted, Stinky was laying there beside me in his usual spot. I touched him; he didn’t move. And he was cold. I quickly started panicking with fear inside. I shook his lower half body. Finally, I got a rise out of him. Stinky woke up and was startled by me. It was as if I had just awakened a cranky old man. He stared me down and then his eyes began to speak, “You know I was trying to get some sleep deb. I was in a heavy state when you rudely woke my ass up. I was gettin’ some pussy. ‘Thanks’ for waking me up; are you happy now?” Yes, I’m so happy. I hugged Stinky so good, put my arm underneath him, and spooned him. I felt his warm body, and then we held hands.
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