The Golden Man.

Dear ____,

I keep telling myself that I will stop missing you, stop writing you. I tell myself that I never really loved you and you never really loved me. It doesn't make anything hurt less, it doesn't change how I feel. No matter what I do, I keep thinking about you. I miss you. I wish things had been different.

I was seventeen. I had just gotten out of a bad relationship. I had finally broken up with the Edward in my life. My home life was deteriorating. I was losing faith in God, in religion, in love. I was wilting, like a forgotten flower in a too sunny window.

And you came in to my picture. You came into the darkness and pulled me out. Or so I thought.

I had a crush on you. You were so smart, strong and funny. You were sweet and wonderful, it was easy to fall for you. I didn't even have to try. But you had a wife and I valued our friendship too much to say anything. Not that you couldn't see it written all over my face. I can say I never tried to take you from her. I am still her friend, though I still feel the shame bubbling up in my cheeks sometimes when I talk to her.

I worshiped you. I adored you. I loved you. I wrote so many poems in your honour, though I have often said I would not waste another verse on you. I say I will not waste another tear in your name.

I keep thinking back to when I told you that I had a crush on you. You said you had already known. I blushed because I couldn't believe I had been so obvious.

I told you that I wanted to have sex. You said you would ruin me for other men. I told you I wanted to be ruined. Sometimes when I think about that I know you ruined me anyway.

I can still feel your fingers tracing the soft part of my neck up to my ear and back down as I was trying to write that mythology I was creating. I had dedicated a character to you. The most beloved man created by the Gods and Goddesses of my world. I called you Zimri. How fitting that, in the Bible, Zimri is a traitor and the name itself means "my song" (Or mountain sheep, but that fits less perfectly.)

I remember how strongly I wanted to kiss you. I remember making you blush, twice, and marveling at my ability. I remember how badly I wanted you, while feeling the guilt creeping around the edges. Your wife. Your son and your daughter. Your life that I was so desperately wanting to be a part of.

I was seventeen, though, ____! You should've resisted me, should've told me no. Told me that it was inappropriate. Why didn't you? Was I Lolita, seducing you away from God and family?

I blame myself for inviting you to the prom. I blame myself for asking you to go with me. I wish I'd never gone. I wish I'd never said anything. But I wanted that experience. I wanted to experience prom, to experience a dance. It was my first dance and I was so excited to be dancing with you. I remember all the moves we created for "Beep" by the Pussycat Dolls. Sometimes, when I'm reminiscing, I play it. I dance and I think about you.

Sometimes I look at the pictures from that night. The night we stopped being friends. The night we became something more than friends, but less than lovers.

I abandoned you when you said you were leaving her. When you said you no longer believed in God. I was afraid, more than anything. And I was angry. I don't even know why I was so angry. I know I felt ashamed and betrayed for everything that happened between us. But that wasn't the reason I stopped talking to you. You had left me, now you were abandoning God and family. The whole time that I knew it could never be, even when I was hoping it would be, I prayed you would stay married. I prayed you would stay with your wife. I prayed I would forget you.

My prayers were for nothing. I still lost you.

The wound still aches every now and then. It still throbs. I still dream about you. I still miss you. I still love you. The truth of the matter is that I always will.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I had to remove you from my life. I wish I hadn't, now. But where would we be? You wouldn't have come back to me. You wouldn't have fulfilled my dream. You couldn't. We couldn't

Some days, I admit, I still want you. I am comfortable admitting that. I wouldn't do anything now, because I am happily married, but I still wonder.

I think my problem is that I wonder if you still think about me. I just want to know that you miss me too. And I don't know why I want to know that. Do you ever think about me? Do you ever miss me? Do you ever want me still? I wish you would message me. Just once, let me know that you still love me like you said you always would. Even though we still can't be. Even though I shouldn't let you back in.

Darling, I miss you, but this is another in a series of confessions I've written on my way to letting you go. I won't e-mail you. I won't message you on Facebook. I won't try, though I want to sometimes. I will eventually come to terms with this.

In the meantime, I hope you are doing well. I hope you are happy and healthy. I hope all sorts of beautiful hopes for you.

Love,
Sarai

A Rocky Road to Hoe.

I have a sincere question:

What the fuck does it matter if President Obama is Muslim, Christian, black or white? Do those things define him as a human being? NO!

You know what defines him as a human being?

His being. His living and breathing. Him being the man that governs us.

He may not do everything right. He may not be the most amazing president ever. Every HUMAN makes mistakes.

He should still be respected. He should still be treated like any other human being.

Besides that, tell me where in the Constitution it says he has to be a Christian? Tell me where it bars people of other faiths from being President. Didn't we come to this land for religious freedom? So religious freedom is for everyone who believes what is acceptable? For only those who believe in Christianity? Fuck that!


I'm done. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of hearing all this bullshit. I'm done.

The Velvet Goldmine

When I was younger I used to babysit my cousins all the time. I didn't mind this because I could watch what I wanted on TV after they went to sleep and I had an available assortment of snacks and what not at my Aunt's. It is on one such evening of babysitting that I discovered a movie called "Velvet Goldmine."

I didn't actually watch the whole thing at the time. Just bits and pieces of it. I couldn't get into it and, admittedly, the only reason I watched it was for promised sex scenes. I was approximately sixteen so I hadn't really figured sex out just yet. I was, however, overtly curious.







The other day I was thinking about it, out of nowhere mind you, and I decided to procure a copy of it. And the other night I watched the whole thing. THE WHOLE THING.

Worst decision ever, mind you. I stayed up until after 1AM watching a movie that I really had a hard time getting into. And it wasn't that good of a movie. Personally speaking of course.

There are a few things I have figured out from this film:
1. Lady Gaga is just a copy of Brian Slade/Maxwell Demon
2. Jeffree Starr is a poor imitation of Jack Fairy.
3. Jonathan Rhys Meyers looks like Fawn when he has longer reddish hair...

The story revolves around Brian Slade, a bisexual glam-rocker in the 70's loosely based on David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust; Arthur Stuart, a British journalist, closeted homosexual and glam-rock fan; and Curt Wild, a garage band singer on the edge. Also starring: copious amounts of Homosexual and Heterosexual sex and Ewan McGregor's penis.

Of course there are a few other intriguing characters such as Mandy Slade (played by Toni Collette) and Jerry Divine (played by my favorite comedian Eddie Izzard!). But they aren't nearly as interesting as the main characters.

Overall, I didn't like the film. I didn't like how they filmed it, though it renewed my appreciation of nude Ewan McGregor and Jonathan Rhys Meyers as a whole... But that was it.

If you read the synopsis of the film it actually sounds really interesting and very psychedelic. Which it is very psychedelic. But not really in a good way.

The lines purloined from Oscar Wilde are thrown in haphazardly, dialogue is practically non-existent. The music isn't very good. The whole thing felt like it was trying really hard to be deep and intense. It came off as being faker than fake.

On a scale of 10, I would rate this a 2. Ewan's penis is about the only thing that made this for me. That and Jonathan Rhys Meyers.

A Church for Saints.

The other night I went to church with one of my girlfriends. This particular friend is a very devout Christian, which I respect, and I have been with her to her church numerous times. I think she is hoping that one of these times I'll receive the Holy Ghost and be saved from myself. Which I also admire. It means she hasn't given up on me. But she also knows me very well and knows that my distance with God has been because of church, not a lack thereof.

I've known this particular friend for almost ten years. We met when I was fourteen and a freshman in high school. At first we didn't really like each other. I thought she was mean. Now I know that she was just teasing to be silly, not mean.

Because I've known her so long I've obviously been to church with her NUMEROUS times. As in, I've been going to this church off and on for almost ten years now.

So it bothers me whenever I go there and almost no one recognizes me. People ask if it's my first time. Or they assume it's my first time, which is even worse! The other thing is that people assume that I've never been to church ever. Which annoys the shit out of me.

See, I grew up in church. I attended church from a very, very, young age right up until I moved to OK when I was nineteen. Was my attendance stellar? No. But I was still a fairly active member in a church up until that point. I've read the Bible numerous times. I used to have huge sections memorized. I still have verses memorized.

Go ahead, ask me what Matthew 4:4 says. Go ahead. ("Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.")

Ask me about "Patience is a virtue" (which isn't actually in the Bible) or "The Lord helps those that help themselves."(That is actually from a myth. "The Gods help those that help themselves" is something that is told to Hercules during his twelve labors.) I dare you. It'll be fun!

In all seriousness though, it kind of bothers me after a bit that people are so willing to assume that I'm an idiot. I hate being underestimated. I should take it as a compliment, but it annoys me.

It especially annoys me when people who've only been in church for a few weeks talk to me like I've never read a word of the Bible. They start preaching at me and I hate it! I've been in church longer than you, I've read the Bible all the way through several times. I know my way around the Holy Scriptures and I know what I'm talking about. You've only been in church for a short time and you want to preach at ME? Really?

I'm saying all this because I'm proud of what I know. I honestly don't care if people are impressed or not. I no longer care about knowing that stuff. I know what I know, that's it. I just don't want someone coming up to me and acting like they know everything when they clearly don't.

The other thing I don't like about church (particularly my friend's church) is the looks I receive. I have rather large breasts, I can't help that. And almost everything I wear accents them, much to my chagrin. Don't look at me like I'm a whore because you can see some cleavage. I'm not a whore. I don't need saving. Thanks, keep walking.

I don't know. Sometimes it is like you have to already be a venerated Saint to be accepted in a church. Isn't the point of church and coming to God being who you are? A sinner, a wastrel? Aren't you supposed to be imperfect coming before Perfection? Isn't God's love supposed to make you pure?

What about that verse: "Judge not, lest ye be judged."? Since when are we supposed to ignore that?

Of course, we ignore most of what the Bible says anyway. We read in-between the lines looking for a meaning that suits us. We pick and choose verses to live by because they are convenient, not because God actually tells us to.

It bothers me! That's one of the reasons I don't go to church anymore. I got tired of the hypocrisy. The biggest being committed by my ex-step-father.

My sister doesn't know what Sodom and Gomorrah is. She doesn't believe that's in the Bible. Because her father doesn't even pay attention to her. That's sad. The man who forced religion down our throats when he was with us has completely neglected his OWN FLESH AND BLOOD'S religious training. Ridiculous really.

It's people that have ruined Christianity for me. It's God that has ruined God for me. And maybe, as the teacher was saying last night in Bible class, I am treating God like a harlot by running from him and coming back only when I need him. I don't really come back, though. My life has not changed since I stopped believing in Him. I'm just as miserable, just as unlucky, just as downtrodden.

Don't tell me "Rain falls on the just and unjust alike." I've had it up to HERE with that verse. Don't tell me that I am being refined by the Refiner's fire.

I am a human being who suffers, like every other human being. And my belief in God, or disbelief as the case may or may not be, hasn't changed that.

Frustrated.

There are so many things I've been wanting to say and I keep holding it in, because I'm so afraid to piss people off. I know, right? Sarai, afraid to piss someone off? You'd never know it from this blog, would you?

There is so much I hold back, however. Things I type and read over, before I delete it all. I've been doing this my whole life, censoring myself. Censoring myself because of fear, because of my longing to be accepted for who I am. But I'm not giving myself, I'm giving a version of me. A version that I don't like very much.

I don't like this coward, the one who demurely let's people run over her.
I don't like this girl that I feel I've become. I'm a lot more confrontational than I used to be, but even now I back off from a fight.

I am a Libra. I am supposed to bring balance. I am supposed to be able to see the two sides of every story. And I do see both sides. But I can't make others see what it is I am seeing. No matter what I may do. I feel unbalanced, like a scale tipping too far over.

I am a Dragon by birth. I shouldn't be afraid of anything. I should be self-confident and arrogant. This dragon has been beaten to the point of submission and I've been tamed, shamed, into being this person that I am.

It makes my stomach hurt, just thinking about it. It makes me want to throw up when I think of causing a confrontation. But it also makes me sick to censor myself any longer.

I can't even be myself in my own home. Not because of Donnie, he would let me say and do what I want really.

Haven't I hidden myself long enough?

I live in so much fear. The fear that I'll say too much, or not enough. That I am failing everyone around me. Feelings I can't explain or name. This bitterness that wells up and threatens to choke me sometimes.

And that bitterness is what I try to keep to myself outside of this blog. Outside of my bedroom, I am attempting to be happy and go-lucky. Holly Go-lightly in the Modern Age.

I am bitter.
I am imperfect.
I am what I am!

In this spirit, I suppose I should get on with the topics I was going to discuss. Including, but not limited to the following article...



http://www.theblaze.com/stories/he-got-what-he-deserved-texas-dad-beats-his-daughters-molester-to-death/

You don't even have to read the article to know what it's about, really. Since the link states the article's subject. However, I went ahead and read it. Especially since someone on my Facebook posted it. She seemed to believe that this was a perfectly okay thing to do, as did most of her friends. I disagree.

Firstly, when you read the article, you see that the father left his four-year-old daughter alone. In a horse barn. Completely unaware that anything could be happening until he heard her screaming.

Re-read that paragraph. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Who, in their right mind, leaves their four-year-old child ALONE in a public place? That is not to say that the father deserved to see his daughter being assaulted. No one deserves to be assaulted and no one should have to walk in on that. However, what the fuck was he THINKING?! Or not thinking as the case apparently is.

Also, I hate that everyone is hailing him as a hero. He isn't a hero. He is a murderer. Did the man deserve to die for trying to rape a four-year-old child? Yes. But that is up to the courts to decide, not a man who took justice into his own hands. I can understand that he was probably blinded by his rage, anyone sensible person should be. That still doesn't give him the right to murder. We have laws in this country for a reason.

He is going to go to jail. He murdered someone. He is going to go to jail. If he is lucky, it won't be a long sentence. If he is unlucky, he'll be put to death. First degree murder is punishable with death in Texas. Anyone who is even VAGUELY familiar with Texas knows how giddy they are when they have the opportunity to put someone to death, guilty or innocent.

The other thing that I am really upset about is all this crap about Socialism.

Newsflash:
Social Security is a product of Socialism, but we are so set on NOT losing that.
Public Schools are a product of Socialism. Heaven forbid we had to pay for private school or *gasp* homeschool!

Personally speaking, I firmly believe in this:
"The Socialist Party U.S.A. That party believes in what is called “Democratic Socialism," defined as 'a political and economic system with freedom and equality for all, so that people may develop to their fullest potential in harmony with others.' The party further states that it is 'committed to full freedom of speech, assembly, press, and religion, and to a multi-party system' and that the ownership and control of the production and distribution of goods 'should be democratically controlled public agencies, cooperatives, or other collective groups'.(http://www.u-s-history.com/pages/h1669.html)"

I don't see anything wrong with National Healthcare. It is the same as Social Security. We'd get a little more taken out of our paychecks each week to go towards healthcare. Big fucking deal! Other countries have been doing this for YEARS. This horrific practice of "socialist medicine" has worked brilliantly for several other countries. So much so that many Americans immigrate to those countries so they can afford to stay healthy. Namely, Canada.

I don't understand this belief that Obamacare is wrong because it is socialist. Many people who couldn't afford healthcare can have it now! I think that's a good thing, being one of several MILLION people who can't afford medicine that we need desperately.

I don't understand all this hatred for Obama either.

He has helped produce new jobs, he has tried to help straighten out this whole "men are still paid more than a woman in the same position," he has come out for Homosexual marriage, etc. He has done SO MANY GOOD THINGS, I don't understand how people can bitch about him so.

But maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm wrong. I always am, apparently.

Oh well, enough ranting. I'm going to go read a nice book and maybe go for a drink. I have errands to run anyway.

Welcome to the Deluge

Things have been a little crazy recently, due to work and trying to have a personal life (which is still mostly non-existent by the way). I was working a lot. Emphasis on WAS.

Today I am going to work on my resume, have lunch with my husband, watch my brother perform in the cursed Scottish play, pay my car insurance, listen to music, read and talk to Fawn. Sounds like a busy day for me!

Anywho, into the fray of this day I would like to interject this song.

I love it. The whole thing. The song, the video, the singer. It is a gorgeously done video.

Cocoon by Alpines

Another Moment

I was eleven in 1999. My brother was nine and my sister was almost four.

I don't think it was the first year that my mother let us stay up for New Year's Eve, but it was one of the first years she let us.

Y2K was everywhere. It was the new Communist scare; the newest trend in fear. We were going to be set back from the technological age.

For me it was exciting. I have always dreamed that we would be forced back in time. It is an idea that I've tried to write about too. I love history so much that it made me think that we would start dressing like we did in the 1800's again, start speaking properly and acting like we were civilized. Much to my chagrin, that isn't what would've actually happened if technology had been decimated.

On this particular New Year's Eve, on the brink of a new millenia, my brother and I were staying up for midnight. Hannah had already been put to bed, mostly against her will as she had wanted to be a big girl and stay up too. She fell asleep shortly before ten and I carried her to our shared bedroom. Chris and I hadn't fully decided what we wanted to do.

If I recall correctly, we played some records before we decided to watch a movie.

Of course our first choice was "Much Ado About Nothing."




My mother has always been very eclectic in her tastes (which is where I got it!) and her love of classical things is what influenced me in my love for the same. Shakespeare was one of my first loves. Elvis came first, though.

Anywho, this was one of our favorite films. It still is. So we watched that. That killed some time, but not enough for midnight.

It was around this time that Ivan, a dear family friend, called to wish us Happy New Year. I told him that Mom had gone to bed with a migraine and that Chris and I were watching Shakespeare movies until midnight. He offered to come over and watch movies with us. And bring pizza.

When he arrived we decided to watch "Henry V."




Which, in case you didn't know, is a war movie. It is one of the only war movies I enjoy, because it is Shakespeare in all his glory. And Kenneth Branagh. That helps too... Because it is a war movie, that automatically means that it is bloody. As in VERY bloody. Nothing like blood and pizza on the brink of what was supposed to be the Technological Apocalypse, right?

Anyway, Ivan kept covering his. He isn't fond of blood and gore. Neither am I, usually, but for this particular movie I make an exception. Did I mention Kenneth Branagh is in it? I did? Oh, well it bears repeating... Hmm.... *drools* I mean, what? Where was I? Oh right, the movie.

So, Chris and I, being terrible children, kept teasing Ivan and telling him that the blood was gone. Of course he would peep out from between his fingers and see there was still plenty of blood on the screen and cover them back up. And we would giggle like it was the funniest thing ever. Which, at the time, it was.

I don't know why, but I've been thinking about this particular memory a lot lately. Nostalgia in my old age? Who knows.

I miss those times. I miss believing that everything was going to be fine. I miss believing that we were all going to make it somehow. I miss being closer to my sister. I miss having a family.

I still have a family, but it feels different. It has changed so much from the family it used to be. We are still Debra, Sarai, Chris and Hannah. But we are different. We are much changed from the people we used to be. Sometimes I don't think we are changed for the better.

Sometimes I miss living in that little blue trailer, in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by fields full of alfalfa and woods that held such beautiful mysteries. I miss riding my bike up and down that gravel road. I miss our dogs. I miss my knitting lessons and sneaking peeks of naughty movies while babysitting. I miss sharing a room with my baby sister, with an old and tattered poster of a Degas ballerina. I miss listening to Simon and Garfunkel on the record player. I even miss listening to old sermon tapes.

I miss the deer heads and the mounted fish. I miss fishing and playing in the snow.

I miss making homemade pizza with my mom. I miss playing chess with my brother. I miss reading to my mom.

What I miss most is what you can see in these pictures...










I miss what we used to be, when we were happy. Not when we were fighting, not when we were being abused, not when we were miserable. I miss those sparkling moments that linger in my memory where we were happy and we were a family.