Poetry once again...

What a tangled web of words we weave
twisting and writhing in our zone
we seldom find places
that we can call our own

Thoughts and emotions collide
in a mash of verbs and nouns
as we try to figure out
which way is down

I found comfort in your place
knowledge and lessons a plenty
a nice thing to find
a feeling lost since before I was twenty

Time went on
and I seemed to find my way back
back into your universe
but your respect was greatly in lack

Other people’s opinions,
it turns out—not desired by you
only people who bend
to your chapter and verse will do.

My existence erased,
now just a fond memory
did you think I wouldn’t notice
it had come to be?

A childish act
by someone whose world I wished to debit
I learn, once again--
that I gave you far too much credit.

Drama..

Good GAWD! This is ridiculous. For the past 6 months, my entire life has pretty much revolved around the fact that my best friend is getting married. I've been to umpteen dress fittings, visited countless reception venues, helped pick out the flowers.. you name it, I've done it.

And I've done it all because this is my best friend's wedding. And I love her with all my heart, this girl isn't just my friend, she's my family.

2 months ago, she ended up in the hospital for dehydration due to her new pregnancy (which added a whole 'nother level of difficulty to the wedding planning process), then two weeks later, her fiance ended up in the hospital as well for a punctured lung.. and all through it, I've assured my best friend that this is the "last of the bad things that will happen in relation to your wedding."

Apparently, I'm a big, fat freakin' liar.

We got all our friends together Saturday night for the bride's bachelorette party. Now, mind you-- our initial plans included something with food and heading to our favorite club for copious amounts of alcohol. But, with my best friend's emerging pregnancy.. plans were changed. We decided to do a slumber party theme. We all dressed up in jammies (mine were SuperGirl jammies, complete with matching cookie monster flip-flops) and headed to a restaurant nearby named "Bone Daddy's."

We arrive about 8:45 for a 9:30 reservation, which was fine. We already had the reservation, we just showed up earlier so those of us who are not "with child" could start "getting our drink on" as soon as possible. We get seated, order drinks, and order our food.

Another friend of mine leaned over and said, "let's go to the bar and do a shot." Sure, no problemo-- I'm all about drinking. (the intent with drinking so much was to get plastered so our pregnant friend could laugh at all of us, seeing as she couldn't partake with us.) On with the story.

I grab my wallet out of my purse and head to the bar. Shot done, drink over.. back to the table. We start talking about bad driver's license pictures and I pulled my DL out of my wallet to compare with my friends. Put the DL back in my wallet, back into my purse and set my purse down.

Not 2 minutes later, same friend says, "we should go smoke before dinner gets here." Good idea, we were in Dallas and you can't smoke in restaurants there.. gotta go outside. Reach down for the purse-- and YUP-- you guessed it.

GONE.

Amid the confusion that went with frantically searching under the table (how many of us have assumed our purse was missing in a restaurant, only to find it under the chair or something?), the bus boy comes over because he heard me say, "My purse is missing." He asked me, "What color was your purse?" I told him it was black. And the guy darts off. I kinda shook my head at him, but went back to frantically searching for my purse.

I go outside, looking for him after we realize that my purse has, indeed, been stolen. He's confronting a woman in the parking lot. God bless this guy, but he didn't speak really good English (or maybe I was just too stupefied to understand *anything* anyone was saying), and I was kind of in a daze about the whole thing. I walk over to him and say, "What's going on?" Actually, I *tried* to say that.. What I said was "Wha---" and the lady he was talking to starts SCREAMING AT ME at the top of her lungs. "You ****ing B****.. how dare you f-ing accuse me of stealing your things. You better talk to your boy here, or I'm about to---" and I cut her off. I told her I didn't even know what was going on.. that I meant no disrespect, but my purse was missing, and this guy felt as though he had a lead. I *apologized* to this woman. Told her I was sorry if she felt as though she was being "profiled." (her words, not mine-- the woman was black and very kindly *insert massive sarcasm here* played the "race card" against me during her tirade.

She's still screaming and tells me that her mother is eating dinner in the restaurant, and they are coming back.. blah blah blah.. they're (she had 2 kids with her) just running to the gas station.. and we can go check with her "mother." So I kinda back off, because I didn't see my purse dangling from her shoulder. I didn't have any proof that she *had* taken it. At this point, one of my friends is calling 911.. I call my husband, "Baby, call the bank." And the bus boy keeps telling me, "I know she has your purse." 2 seconds later, the manager walks out-- "We have her on tape, she did it." So the bus boy takes off down the road to go to the gas station she had said she was headed to, and we all realize that she is now *past* the gas station, currently sauntering under 75 (local highway for my out-of-town readers).. so he tears off running after her. Manager gets in his freakin' truck and starts to follow her. So we're feeling pretty good. The cops are on their way, and they are doing their best to keep tabs on her til the police arrive.

Right?

Wrong.

Police never showed up. They called back and told me they could take my report over the phone. Miffed-- but so sick of dealing with everything, I just tell the cop what happened. "Here's your report number, blah blah blah." So I'm aggravated as hell. But I figure, "what's done is done. Let's get back to the party." Well, when we get back into the restaurant-- we finally get a chance to talk to the manager about the whole "seeing her on tape" situation. So he lays it all out. They see the woman who confronted me in the parking lot on the tape, distracting the waitress while her daughter kicks my purse away from the table, and then quickly picks it up and they both walk out of the restaurant. Yes, you read that correctly-- this woman used her OWN CHILD (well.. I assume it was her kid, she could have hired them for all I know) to steal my purse. Then I get the story from the bus boy, cuz I asked him how he knew they had taken it (this was before they looked at the tapes).. and he said that he was walking by our table to the kitchen and he saw the kid kicking something on the floor and he thought it looked weird, but dismissed it because it was a kid. Your mind just doesn't go there. Then when he walked by the table again and heard me say, "I can't find my purse," he put two and two together and took off after them.

Can we get a round of applause for Francisco the bus boy and Gary, the manager of Bone Daddy's in Dallas? These guys were un-freakin'-believable in their dedication to catching this woman. If the police had *actually* showed up, these guys would have been responsible for catching this woman, and I would have been none the worse for wear. Problem solved.

But the police didn't.

So I was out my wallet (with all my ID, credit card, and pictures of Isaac), my cell phone, my pager, my freakin' birth control pills (if I get pregnant-- it's all this bitch's fault.), my keys, the keys to my best friend's parent's house (where we were crashing that night), and all my odds and ends from my purse. Not to mention my purse!! I have the coolest purse EVER. My purse is made of seatbelts. Check it out here http://www.seatbeltbags.com/default.aspx?CatalogID=13 Mine is the "mini-messenger" bag. So I'm out another 90 bucks for it. Ohh, and the good part of the purse thing, I went to buy another one online-- and guess what? They don't have it BLACK, which was the color I had it in. I found it on another site, but I just hate shelling out the cash for another one (the aforementioned wedding plans have really strained our budget), so I guess I'll have to wait.

This is so freakin' disturbing. This woman used her kid to take my stuff. There are no freakin' words for how sick this is. Who would do something like that? Apparently, that crazy bitch would.

Karma is gonna get that bitch, I just know it.

I'll post later.. but I gotta call the detective back and all that jazz..

More details to come.

BTW-- if anyone was wondering.. YES-- this *does* suck.

Is a threat a threat?

On Monday, December 13th, as I picked up my son from daycare, I had a harrowing experience. One of my son's friends from school came up to me and said, "Isaac's mommy-- Isaac said he was going to shoot my daddy."

Absolute.shock.

I didn't even know what to say. My son doesn't know anything about guns. And I'm not even being stupidly naive about this. He doesn't. We don't buy him any toys that have little toy guns, nothing of the sort. So, I collected Isaac, and headed to the car. During the 20 minute drive home, I gave all the "appropriate" speeches to my son. "We don't say things like that," "That is mean", etc. Then it dawned on me.

How did my son even hear about "shooting someone"?

So I delved deeper. Asked my son where he heard the word "shoot." He informed me that his little pal had told him during playtime that he was "going to shoot Isaac's mommy and daddy." So, basically-- my son retaliated in kind. My son is fiercely protective of me. Once, when he was about 2 years old, we were at the mall, shopping for something, and some man in front of us at the checkout started berating a cashier for *something*, cursing and all.. and I turned to the man and asked him to please watch his language, as there were kids in the store.. imagine my surprise when this 6 foot 5 bear of a man turned to me and started yelling at me. All sorts of foul insults.. and my 3 foot 2 year old son turned to this man, shook his finger at him and yelled, "You don't talk to my mommy like that!" The man was taken aback, and shortly thereafter, thrown out of the store by a manager.

So, to hear that Isaac said something like that in response to a threat posed by a playmate didn't surprise me at all.

What surprised me was his teacher's complete lack of response to the incident. I get that the teacher has 10 kids in her class at any given time, and that she cannot possibly *hear* everything that the kids say, but this seems a little extreme to miss. But I'll let it go. What I *won't* let go is the fact that when the other child told me when I picked up Isaac what Isaac had said, the teacher was sitting a mere 3 feet away, this child repeated the statement about 4 times, and what did this teacher do??

Nothing. Not one word, no "We don't say things like that, etc." Nothing.

And it dug at me.

What is wrong with this world that I have to be so worried about the words of a fellow 3 year old boy? Maybe it's the fact that if Isaac and his friend were a mere year and a half older and in kindergarten-- they would be ceremoniously suspended. At least in Texas. They suspend kids for saying stuff like this. It is taken *very* seriously. But at three, I had to take it upon myself to bring it to the attention of the Daycare Director, because it perturbed me so.

And why does it bother me? Do I really believe that this child is gonna pull out a glock and put a slug in me? Of course not. Even though I know that there have been stories of children not much older than mine killing a fellow friend, or injuring someone "playing" with a gun. Does it bother me that I don't know whether the other child's father actually owns a gun? A little bit.

Does a parent have a right to know if their child's playmate's parents have a gun in the house? Am I wrong for thinking that I *do* have a right to know this? There are only a small handful of people I know who keep guns in their homes, and more power to them. They are very straightforward about it, and I know that they all practice gun safety. The gun isn't loaded. The gun is in one place, the bullets in another. The government says that it is legal for you to own a gun, and until that law changes, there is nothing I can do about it. No matter how I feel about the topic.

But-- as a parent, do I have a right to even ASK that question? Is it rude? Is it crass? Do I care? Absolutely not. Being rude or crass has never stopped me before, and it sure isn't going to now.

The sad thing of this, is when I was older than Isaac, and maybe even when I was as young as him-- we used to play "Cowboys and Indians" or "Cops and Robbers", in the street, no less. And nobody ever had to tell us that guns were wrong, or that they could really hurt people. We knew that. It was pure logic.

Have we, as parents, been robbing our children of their childhoods? With all the warnings we have to give them.. "Don't talk to strangers", "Guns are bad". Yes, we all got those talks when we were kids, but the explanations that we have to give our kids now are a bit different. When our parents told us, "Don't talk to strangers", and we asked why not-- the answer was simple. "Because I said so." These days, I find that parents feel they have to inform their children a little more, so now the reply has changed to "Because there are people who could hurt you."

Why do we have to tell our kids things like this? I realize that we don't *have* to. But we choose to. And in making this choice-- are we taking away a piece of our children's innocence? Are we robbing them of their childhood?

I don't really want an answer, but feel free to leave one. I just needed to get all of this out of my head. :)

Can We Get a Fact-Checker on Aisle One??

Sorry that it has been so long since I've posted here.. I have gotten a little swept up in the drama that has become the presidential election. Or should I say-- the tennis match that has become the presidential election. I find myself going back and forth as to who I want to win the election. Part of me is very angry with some of the decisions that George Bush has made, but the other part of me realizes that Kerry is definitely the Lowest Common Denominator that the Democrats could have put up. *NOW*-- if the Democrats were smart, they would have put up Howard Dean, and there would be question who was getting my vote. I found great solace in Dean's platform, but of course-- both the Dems and the Repubs decided to massacre Dean because of his enthusiasm, so here we are-- stuck on stump-hill with only 12 days to go.

BUT-- that's not why I am writing this entry today. I am writing this entry today to bitch-slap Theresa Heinz Kerry for her comments on First Lady Laura Bush. You can read the article here http://www.cnn.com/2004/ALLPOLITICS/10/20/theresa.apologizes.laura/index.html

To summarize, Mrs. Heinz-Kerry was giving an interview and was asked what she believed the differences to be between herself and Laura Bush. The following is an exact quote,

"Well, you know, I don't know Laura Bush. But she seems to be calm, and she has a sparkle in her eye, which is good. But I don't know that she's ever had a real job -- I mean, since she's been grown up. So her experience and her validation comes from important things, but different things."
She added, "And I'm older, and my validation of what I do and what I believe and my experience is a little bit bigger -- because I'm older, and I've had different experiences. And it's not a criticism of her. It's just, you know, what life is about."

Okay-- let's just review both their records, "for the record" if you will.

Theresa Heinz Kerry obtained a Bachelor of Arts degree in Romance Languages and Literature. She then graduated from the Interpreters School of the University of Geneva. She moved to the United States and became an interpreter for the United Nations. She then met Senator John Heinz, heir to the ketchup millions, got married, quit her job, had 3 kids, and appears to have done no significant work outside of the house after they got married in 1966. That is, until Senator Heinz's death in 1991, when she turned down the right to run for his Senate seat, inherited the Heinz fortune and began running several of the Heinz Family Philantropies and Foundations. She also sits on several other boards and does a lot of charity work now.

Laura Bush obtained a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Education, and a Masters Degree in Library Science. She worked as a public school teacher and a librarian for approximately 9 years. She then met George Bush, got married in 1977, had 2 kids, and appeared to not do any significant work outside of the home for quite some time. Upon Mr. Bush's election to Governor of Texas in 1994, she became very involved in many different organizations. She sits on several different Education Boards, is a spokesperson for Breast Cancer and Heart Disease, helped set up Preserve America, etc.

So I think we can agree that these women led fairly parallel lives. They were both educated, got married, had a few kids, stayed home for a while and came to public service later on in their lives. Right?

So, why-- in the name of anything that means *anything*, would Theresa Heinz Kerry say that Laura Bush had not "worked", at least not since she became an adult????

The apology she sent out is almost embarrasing, and the fact remains-- she should have *never* said it. Her husband is running for President. Get your facts right, lady. I have long maintained that there was something abot Mrs. Heinz Kerry that just rubbed me the wrong way, and now I realize what it is.

It is her condescending tone. It is the way in which she carries herself. It is the way she almost "talks down" to others when she is interviewed. It is the way the woman doesn't seem to own a hairbrush!! You have like, 600 million dollars, T-- head on down to Walgreens and get a brush, and while you're at it-- get a straightening iron, or barring that-- at least some PONYTAIL HOLDERS!! But I digress.

It is the assumption in her interview that Ms. Heinz Kerry makes that angers me the most. Yes, Mrs. Bush did not hold down an outside job after she had her children. She did not receive a paycheck for services rendered. But she most certainly worked. She had twin daughters, for crying out loud!! She was a stay-at-home mom. Ask anyone who has ever had children if staying home with their kids isn't the hardest job in the world, hands down-- and if they say it isn't-- I'll show you someone who has *never* stayed home alone with kids for more than a few days. Oh, and I'll eat my Doc Martens, okay??

Trust me, I know. I stayed home with my son for 2 years after he was born, and let me tell you-- it is an up-at-dawn-stay-up-late-mentally-physically-and-emotionally-draining-demanding-dictatorship that can be at times, downright cruel. The dictator, of course, being YOUR BABY. Your life happens in 3-4 hour cycles. Feed, burp, change, sleep. Feed, burp, change, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. God forbid you decide to run an errand. Then the entire rotation is interrupted and subject to anger by said dictator.

For Mrs. Heinz Kerry to disregard Mrs. Bush's work in the home is utterly disgraceful. Ms. Heinz Kerry sits on some boards, she heads up some foundations.. she has done just as much physical labor as Mrs. Bush has (and that is to say they both have not done *much* menial labor in their lives). And for Mrs. H.K. to sit up on some kind of golden throne saying, "well-- I'm *not* saying I'm better, BUT".. is complete bull.

I expect far more from the First Lady, or possible First Lady. She should be ashamed of herself. Interesting of note-- is that Mrs. Heinz Kerry knew that she had made such a colossal mistake int he original interview, that the APOLOGY she made ran BEFORE the original interview.

Sorry, Theresa-- you're off the Christmas Card list. How dare you even imply that a woman who stays home with their kids has not "had a real job." Of course-- you are wrong.. Mrs. Bush worked for a while before she became a mother.. which is yet another strike against you. You also appear to be a hypocrite-- seeing as you led nearly the exact same life, but somehow your work since your first husband's death is more important than the work Laura Bush does now, and has done for at least the past 10 years. Get your facts right!

At a loss..

Okay-- the events in Russia have just crashed down on my heart. I find myself "at a loss", but certainly not for words. This may end up having absolutely *nothing* to do fundamentally with the tragic situation that occured in Russia this week, read about it here: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/5881958/

Anybody who knows me knows that I have always had a soft spot for children. I'm a sucker for peanut butter-smeared faces, sticky hands and clothes that are covered with paint.

Before I gave birth to my own son-- I had, if you will, a "practice child." My best friend in the entire world, my other half-- Amber, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl in September of 1996, otherwise known as the beginning of our Senior Year. A little background on me and Amber, we have known each other since we were 10 years old and members of the Arlington Girls City Choir, yes--readers, once upon a time, Rosanna could sing.

We didn't go to the same school at the time, only saw each other at rehearsals-- so there was no *real* friendship. Then, once we got to junior high-- we fought over the same best friend (ahh-- to be in junior high again and worrying about "what really matters") We hated each other. Could *not* stand each other. Sad thing was-- it was for no good reason. Upon entering the same high school, we became fast friends when *THE BEST FRIEND* we had battled over moved across town and into another school. We bonded over coffee at "Fire and Ice" (ahh-- you will be missed), and then went through very scary times. Over Christmas break our Junior Year, Amber reunited with her *loser* of an ex-boyfriend, and promptly found herself knocked up. I can still remember ditching Chemistry class (sorry Mr. Collins) the day the stick turned blue. But one thing was for sure-- my *very* determined best friend was having a baby. No question about it.

And thus-- Kristin came into our lives.

Ahh-- Kristin. My raison d^etre. The source of many nights of the only happiness I could find at the time. You all remember. High school sucks-- and it consumes every moment and breath imaginable. Especially when you *aren't* hanging out with a lot of high school kids. The only people my own age I was hanging with at the time were Amber and my good friend, Rachel. Other than that-- it was people who I worked with, who were all older. Good times. (well--maybe not all of them--but overall-- GOOD.) And when Kristin burst on the scene at 7 lbs, 3 oz.. everyone we knew pretty much scattered. But I *had* to be there for Amber. I can remember when she was going through SEVERE post-partum depression, her mother would turn me away at the door, and I would whisper through the crack at a crying Amber, "I love you, sweetie. And I'm here if you need me." and I would see a glimmer of hope through her tear-stained eyes.

Yes-- Kristin was truly a gift. When I went through ridiculous troubles with my high-school boyfriend, Kristin was there. She still sleeps with a stuffed dog she named "Puppy" that me and the high school ex gave to her when she was nary 1 year old. Kristin was the LOVE OF MY LIFE. The only time Kristin ever hurt my feelings was for about a year, she couldn't pronounce my full name. Understandably-- 3 syllables is a *LOT* for an 18 month old. But she called me "Anna."

Please understand.. at the time, I had had my world destroyed by someone I looked up to who shared the same moniker. Ridiculously so, even. I was a very troubled teenager, and looked for acceptance anywhere-- and when this particular person didn't offer it (or rather--stopped offering it), and instead-- pushed me away-- it absolutely *crushed* me. She wrote me a 4 page letter (FRONT AND BACK, mind you--) that I ridiculously *kept* for nearly 4 freakin years. Pathetic, I know. But I held onto that letter for some very personal reasons-- while I hated what she wrote-- the fact is-- she was *dead on.* And while it hurt-- I couldn't let it go. I just *had* to hold onto this piece of my history that had just shattered me to my very core. I would later find it while the hubby and I were packing up to move into our own place. I remember pulling it out of my "box-o-stuff".. the pages worn and creased, and I had memorized the letter, the handwriting-- even the semi-colons and commas. Literally. I read it aloud-- to which the hubby (boyfriend/fiance/and proud father-to-be at the time) snatched it from my hands and threw it into a candle that was nearby. I fought to salvage it, and he held me back as I cried and it burned-- I have no idea why I was so upset at the loss of this letter. He told me that I was *not* that person-- and that I had to let it go. He was right. Time heals all wounds, and I now hold no ill-will at all towards that person (CLOSURE RULES-- by the way)-- but at the time-- for the love of my life *Kristin* to call me by that name was just like daggers to my heart.

But of course-- I digress. Having Kristin around was just practice for when I would become a mother to my own child. Amber and I rented a house together for nearly 2 years, so Kristin was *literally* my life.. she was there every morning when I woke up-- and there every night when I went to bed. She has crawled into bed with me after a nightmare more times than I could possibly count. She prepared me for the greatest thing that has happened to me in 25 years of life.

My son. Hokey as it sounds-- my life started the day the 2nd line appeared on the EPT stick (much like it did to my best friend, Amber).. it focused me. It made me realize that *everything* I had been through in life would prepare me for this. I worried endlessly, would I be a good mother? Would I be able to love him or her the way he deserved to be loved? Would my boyfriend stick around? Keep in mind-- hubby and I got pregnant either the 1st or 2nd time we were *together*.. (so much for safe sex) So you can imagine my fear as I stood on his doorstep, trembling with the pregnancy test in my hand, already positive. "Hey-- I know we just met about a month ago-- and you seem like a perfectly nice guy and I really dig you-- I was wondering if you would like to raise a child with me." Yeah, right!! He calmly took me in his arms and said, "We're going to have a baby. And everything else will just fall into place." But still the worry continued. I had suffered severe physical, mental and emotional abuse as a child/teenager and was worried I would not know how to take care of a baby without reiterating my own mother's "style of parenting."

Then came the problems with the pregnancy. Getting dropped by my OB at 5 1/2 months because they were effing idiots who could not *read* a damn insurance card (FUCK you, Dr. D). The terrifying spotting the last day I worked. The carpal tunnel syndrome due to pregnancy (yup--it happens) that kept me in so much pain and insomnia that I beat my wrists against the wall until they bled.. the PIH that forced me into MANDATORY bed rest and 12 "emergency" trips to the hospital in the last 6 weeks. But lo and behold-- here he came. And the horror when he was born-- 15 hours of labor and 2 1/2 hours of hard pushing, to find that he was wedged under my pelvic bone, his heartbeat was rapidly dropping and I was rushed for an emergency c-section. The fear that gripped me when I saw him out of the corner of my eye-- BLUE. NOT CRYING. I looked at the hubby and said, "why isn't he crying?" Hubby trying to mask his own fear. The relief that came nearly 5 minutes later when he *did* cry. He was magnificent. Strong and independent-- you know how they say babies are sleepers when they are born? Not my boy-- he stayed awake for nearly 7 hours after he was born-- just looking at us as if to say, "Yup-- I had you going, didn't I??" There are no words to describe looking at your child for the first time, none.

The tears that rolled down my best friend and I's faces as we saw Kristin meet her "cousin Isaac" for the first time, after we had *lied* to the hospital and said she was my daughter (no kids in the maternity ward under 7 unless they are blood relatives-- it was a *good lie*). The first time she held him *all by herself* (propped up by MOUNTAINS of pillows and me, Amber, her boyfriend and my hubby *all hands 2 inches away* the whole time) The first time Kristin told Isaac she loved him, the first time Isaac told Kristin that he loved her. My two kids-- joined forever.

That is why this story in Russia touches me so. I cannot imagine the loss of my child. Just cannot fathom it. How are we supposed to feel safe sending our kids to school when things like this happen? I know that this is a completely random act of terrorism-- but it doesn't sting any less. It is devastating to see this. So to all those mothers and fathers, who are going to bed without their children this evening.. my tears and thoughts are with you all.

There are no words to describe the extraordinary pain that you all must be going through right now-- and while it may mean nothing to you now-- please know that we are crying with you. That even though there is no possible way we could-- we feel your pain. If I could shoulder even a minute amount of the grief you must be experiencing-- please know I would gladly bear it.

I'm not by any means, a religious person-- but the following is most appropriate. I had originally planned to write a poem-- but find myself at a loss artistically (a first for me-- I have *volumes* of poetry) I offer up the words of Eric Clapton.

Would you know my name if I saw you in Heaven?
Would you feel the same if I saw you in Heaven?
I must be strong and carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong here in Heaven ......

Would you hold my hand if I saw you in Heaven?
Would you help me stand if I saw you in Heaven?
I'll find my way, through night and day,
'Cause I know I just can't stay here in Heaven .....

Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees.
Time can break your heart, have you begging .... please ...
Beyond the door, there's peace I'm sure.
And I know there'll be no more tears in Heaven .......

Would you know my name if I saw you in Heaven?
Would you feel the same if I saw you in Heaven?
I must be strong and carry on,'Cause I know I don't belong here in Heaven .......

Say WHAT?!?!?

False diagnosis of HIV discovered after eight years

Yes-- you read that right. A man named Jim Malone was tested for the AIDS virus in 1996. His first test came back positive. After he received the results-- he decided to seek treatment at a local VA Hospital. When he first went to the VA Hospital, he told them that he had tested positive for the HIV virus, and the VA promptly ran their own test. (This is standard protocol.) Shortly thereafter-- the VA's results on Malone's AIDS test came back-- Mr. Malone, was NOT infected with HIV.

Unfortunately-- nobody at the VA Hospital *told* Mr. Malone that.

This is so sickening, it makes me want to head to the bathroom and well-- you get the idea. I have lost friends to the AIDS virus, and let me tell you-- it is *NOT* the disease that kills them. The disease breaks their spirit, makes them believe there is no hope, gives them NO reason to live on. And while I would like to sit here and say that I treated my friends no differently regardless of their AIDS status, I cannot.

I *did* judge them.. just a little bit. Not in a bad way-- but just in a "I'm-a-little-scared-and-while-I-know-my-feelings-are-valid-I-still-feel-like-a-heel-for-feeling-this-way" kind of way.

As I am sure that people who know Mr. Malone did as well. That does not make them bad people. It makes them human. These kinds of actions are *forgivable*.. people are usually trying to deal with this the best way they can.

What the VA Hospital did is in NO way forgivable. They should be ashamed. I'm sure they are.. but the doctor's mealy-mouthed apology to Mr. Malone doesn't mean *JACK* right now! That man spent 8 years believing that he had an illness that was going to kill him. And worse off-- he had an illness that he *knew* there was no cure for. There are no words for this kind of atrocity.

To basically "sentence a man to death".. and then 8 years later, mumble a "Hey-- that must have slipped through the cracks," is completely ludicrous!! I mean-- jeez-- when a prisoner is wrongfully sentenced to prison, or death row-- at least when they get their "apology" from the State of wherever, there is a nice little check that they receive. Obviously-- a lot of these people go on to sue the prosecutors for further compensatory damages-- and for some of them-- I completely agree. And others-- I think it gets a little ridiculous.

I have no place to speak about stuff like that-- because I've never known anyone in prison who was wrongfully accused and served massive amounts of time for said mistake. But I digress.

I do not usually agree with lawsuits levied at major corporations. I think that a lot of people in this country have gotten really "lawsuit happy" and are just looking for *any* way to make a quick buck. Here's a tip to the people who are just looking for the "easy way out".. if you spent 1/2 as much time educating yourself as you did *making up* said lawsuit-- you wouldn't need a big fat settlement.. you'd be getting a BIG FAT PAYCHECK every two weeks.

But in the case of Mr. Malone-- I wholeheartedly believe that this man should take the VA for every penny they are worth. These people ruined his life.

Think about how differently you would live your life, if in fact, you were told that you basically had nothing to live for? That you had a disease that would ravage your body and tear you apart piece by piece. What if you watched close friends and loved ones (as Mr. Malone did) die of the very disease you *believed* was killing you.

To quote "Reality Bites", a lovely little '90s flick.. "Every time I sneeze, it's like I'm one sneeze away from the hospice."

That is exactly how you would feel. You would not plan for your future, you would not set money aside for vacations, NOTHING. All the little things that make us human and make life worth living would just be HUGE, FLASHING "You're-gonna-die" signs.

Mr. Malone, I feel for you and I hope that you are able to find some kind of comfort in the fact that you are not, in fact, dying. I understand how confusing this must be for you. On one hand-- you must be overjoyed that you are going to live out your life and *not* die an AIDS-related death, but at the same time-- I imagine you are grappling for *what* to do now. You have been given life again-- after having it savagely ripped away from you for 8 years. You certainly must be wondering where you will go now, what the next step will be.

Allow me to give you a gentle push in the right direction.

"Your honor, in the case of Mr. Jim Malone vs. The Veterans Administration.. I now call Jim Malone to the stand."

Go get 'em, Jim! Go get 'em!

I love the smell of controversy in the morning

Now.. *here* would have been an opportunity to "do the right thing."

Today, as I was enjoying my morning cup of tea (gawd-- I feel so old), I flipped on NBC to check out the final day of competition in the Olympics. Imagine my dismay when I realize that it's the beginning of the Marathon. *sigh* 2 hours of watching people run-- yay, fun!!

Don't get me wrong-- I completely admire the amount of drive and discipline that it takes to *train* for the Marathon, much less actually finish the damn thing.

But I digress-- of course, after stating out loud that "I would *never* watch an entire marathon", I found myself mesmerized by it and could NOT turn it off.

Approximately one hour into the race-- Vanderlei de Lima of Brazil took an impressive lead. He was approximately 45 seconds ahead of the pack. And he was trucking his way to Athens. I was reeled in by the "A Brazilian has never even medalled in the Olympics in the Marathon event." All of the sudden- I feel a lump in my throat-- I am such a sucker for a story like this.

I watched, transfixed, as he led the pack, and dominated the event.

And then *it* happened. Every Marathon director's nightmare. Someone ran onto the road and basically attacked de Lima on the road. This man, whose name has not been released, shoved de Lima off the road and into the crowd. And the people watching the race, freed de Lima from this madman's grip-- and de Lima was able to continue the race.

Had this happened with 10 miles to go, I might not even be writing this. But it wasn't. There were a mere 3 1/2 miles left to go. That is the HOMESTRETCH, people. This kid had at least a 30 second lead at this point.. and lost basically all of it due to this loser's vendetta.

Commentators for the event claimed that they read the sign on the back of said loser's little costume. He was originally "unidentified", but now-- he appears to have been revealed as an Irish priest who has an affinity for disrupting events like this-- and has the ablity to write unreadable words on the back of his little costume, apparently protesting something. Whatever his little sign on the back of his "Scarborough Faire" costume said-- I don't even care. Whatever this guy was protesting.. he had NO right to interrupt an Olympic event.

Meanwhile, a little ways back-- Stefano Baldini of Italy and Mebrahtom Keflezighi of the United States were able to make up some badly needed ground, due to this insane attack on an innocent runner. A little less than 10 minutes later, Keflezighi and Baldini overtook de Lima for the lead. Baldini then led all of them into the stadium, where Baldini took the gold, Keflezighi took the silver and de Lima rounded out the top three to take the bronze.

de Lima's heart was overwhelming. He did the "airplane" pose down the homestretch and has not so much as even mentioned that he felt he was cheated out of the gold.

Well-- if he won't say it-- I will. This is a travesty. To see the Italian take the gold without so much of a mention of the incident involving de Lima is a sad day. Baldini is so obsessed with getting his gold, he doesn't even seem to care that the results were flawed.

With the atrocious actions of the FIG with Paul Hamm and the unfair request that Hamm give up his gold-- why is there *nobody* clamoring for Baldini to sacrifice his own medal?

Yes-- of course there is no way to know what the outcome would have been had de Lima not been attacked. Maybe he would have dropped to third anyway after having led the race for so long. Maybe he would have won it all. The fact remains that de Lima finished a mere 1 minute and 16 seconds behind Baldini. That small of a deficit should have at least been addressed by the IOC. Instead the only word from the IOC is, "The IOC is saddened by the incident."

Yeah-- I'm sure.

Baldini should have done the right thing-- and willingly made a deal with Keflezighi, Baldini gives de Lima the gold, Baldini would take the silver and Keflezighi would take the bronze. This way-- everyone who medalled would *still* medal, but the integrity of the race would remain in tact. Especially since all three of them were quoted as saying, after the event that "I didn't care what medal I got-- it is just an honor to even *finish* a course as tough as this one." Hey-- if everyone wants their own medal-- HUZZAH!! Let's just make sure they are handed out in the right order.

This *would* have been the right thing to do. But of course, it won't. And nobody will clamor for Baldini to give up his gold in the name of "sportsmanship" as the FIG did to Paul Hamm.

And why is that? I'll tell you why-- and I might take a little flack for this-- but hey-- that's kinda the point of this blog, right?

Paul Hamm was asked to give up his gold by the FIG and hinted to do so by several columnists and commentators-- in the name of "sportsmanship".. but let's call a spade a spade. When these people chose to mention "the ill will" that the world holds against the United States as some sort of punching point for Paul Hamm to "do the right thing" and "honor the sport," all that talking amounted to "The entire world hates the United States for many things-- and our dominance in the Olympics doesn't help." Tom Celizic of NBCSports said the same exact thing. He said that Paul Hamm should give up the gold to "win back a little self respect for the United States, so the world would not see us as bloated pigs who *need* to win everything" (I'm paraphrasing-- but I'm pretty close.) Read his article here http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/5790612/

So-- when it is an American's medal in question during something that is deemed to be a controversy-- we should do the "right thing" and "win back a little world good will."

But when it is an Italian's gold on the line-- hey-- *they're* not imperialistic jerks who throw their weight around the world-- so somehow his gold is more valuable and less susceptible to question.

These two incidents are exactly the same.. in both incidents-- someone (Yang Tae Young, de Lima) was affected by outside forces, (FIG judges, a ridiculous protestor) and the outcome *may or may not* have been different.

But with no protest looming by Brazil for their "own gold medal", this will never see the light of day. de Lima will go home with the bronze medal, happy with what he did-- and when he comes back in 2008 to win the Marathon decidedly in Beijing-- the whole incident will be a "come back from adversity" tale that will inspire kids all around the world to pick up their Nikes and head for the nearest side road to begin training. Thousands of children in Brazil will cheer de Lima's name for accepting his bronze with no ill will towards Baldini (who may or may not have "done the right thing" in keeping the gold for himself) and everyone will move on.

Yet-- Paul Hamm will more than likely be plagued by this for the rest of his career. The South Koreans will not let this debate go, and have continued to appeal to agencies (the CAS--their third protest now) to give Yang Tae Young his "rightful gold medal."

Mama Mia, I smell dissention in the world.. and since the world seems to be in agreement that we, as US citizens, are all of one face and one action-- and that we all should be judged by the actions of our government-- I say-- pass the keys and let's head on over to Mickey D's, baby.

I'm lovin' it.