Lillianna's Thoughts

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

It’s been good to be me. No, my life is not perfect and I’m far from it myself, but I think this is close. Teaching math to seventh graders in this small southern college town has been good for me. At least it’s small when compared to the city I came from up north. I live just on the outskirts of the south side of town. Close enough to ride my bicycle to school every day, weather permitting. About the only time my old compact-hybrid gets driven now is for my biweekly trips to the grocery store. Good thing since gas is nearly ten and a half dollars a liter. A neighbor who’s a transport salesman keeps asking when I’m going to trade my “old heap” in for a new or at least a newer solar model. My answer is always, “When it won’t take me twenty years to pay for one.”

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

We have a new teacher in the building this year. He’s not new to the district. He’s transferred over from our sister school on the north side of town. He teaches art across the hall from me, and he has the same lunch period as me and my mentor, Ms. Visci. Until Mr. Andrew Dixon came, Ms. Visci and I were the only unmarried teachers in our building. Him having lunch with us just feels natural. He asked me to call him Andy. He has the warmest brown eyes and his dark brown hair is just slightly curly. He keeps it pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His smile is beautiful. I can feel myself blush when he smiles at me from beside his classroom door as the student’s change classes. I don’t smile much myself, never have.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Well, it’s official. Mr. Dixon and Ms. Oaktree, that’s me, are an item. Our students are having fun giggling at us. Ms. Visci says it’s good to see me so happy. She said the amount of time I spent alone was unhealthy. Andy lives about a block from the small house I’m buying. He just showed up one Monday morning and asked if he could ride bikes with me to school. I shrugged and said, “Sure.” Then he showed up the following Saturday with two-canvas grocery bags and asked if he could make dinner. Usually the only home cooked meal I get is at Ms. Visci’s after church on Sunday and sometimes a couple of Ms. Visci’s relatives stop by. She’s the only one of the three of us with a large extended family. Andy was an only child and his parents are deceased. As for my family, I haven’t had contact with anyone, not even my mother, for years. But, take my word for it, it’s for the best.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Andy is always asking me questions about myself. I really don’t like to talk about myself. I don’t come from good people. I’m still not sure I live far enough away from my so-called family. I’m sure enemies are friendlier. He says to me, “Lilly, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I’m not trying to pry. I just want to know everything about you.” Sometimes I wish I could run away from myself. I have too much info on me. I like it when he holds me, but I always stop any making-out before things get too far. Him seeing my body means explaining things I wish I could forget, just hit delete and poof it never happened. Stretch marks from the son I gave up for adoption at fifteen and scars from being physically abused. Not things one is eager to discuss with the man she loves. There! I admitted it. I’m in love with Andy and it scares me and makes me feel vulnerable.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Things are unusually quiet. It’s as if the world is holding its breath. Even our students, who are normally buzzing with gossip, are unusually quiet. It’s all over the news. Some God Forsaken third world country obliterated itself experimenting with biological, nuclear and atomic weapons. Well, it seems they succeeded at the atomic bomb part. The worry is: what has this massive catastrophe unleashed upon the world?

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

It seems to have begun. Scientists all over the world are working feverishly to stop it. It seems nothing is immune to it and the earth will be left barren. The virus seems capable of infecting all living things: plants, animals and insects. They’re saying it will wipe the earth clean of all life. I really don’t know what to think. All I can do is take it one day at a time and survive if possible. That’s how I have always lived my life. So far, our community is untouched, but the rumor is that it has already reached the states.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

The insects are dying. There are dead insects everywhere. They crunch and squish under your feet as you walk outside. And my rose bushes are wilting. But the behavior of the insects is the most disturbing. As if they go mad before they die. Ms. Visci took her PE class out and they were attacked by a swarm of black flies this morning. Then the flies just dropped to the ground dead, nearly all at once.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

My rose bushes are dead as well as patches of my lawn. Ok, I confess, I like gardening, it’s not just for appearances sake, I enjoy it. Andy’s presence is a blessing because he comforts me. He has such a positive attitude, such faith. There were several dead birds on the ground as we rode bikes to school this morning. There was a robin flopping wildly on the ground as it died. But it seems all will not be destroyed. Seems that things that live in the water are immune. At least, that’s what they’re saying. They’re also saying human beings have no immunity to the virus, that whole villages have been wiped out by it in Africa and India. I keep the TV off. I can’t look at the newspaper, but I pray. I don’t know what good it will do, but I pray.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Who needs a paper or TV when there’s Ms. Visci to keep you informed? Apparently, the first official US death has occurred from the virus, a man in Old New York City. They say thousands are infected, but don’t know it yet. They say the first symptoms are dry mouth and nervous twitching similar to that seen with Turrets Syndrome. Some symptoms seem common to every one that has contracted it. Ms. Visci says some of the people that have died in Asia suddenly spiked an outrageously high fever and expired just as suddenly. Others have lingered with Alstymers like symptoms while others have become crazed and violent like rabies. They don’t know if it’s different strains of the same virus, different viruses, or differences from person to person like over all health, age, gender or even if race makes a difference. The only thing agreed upon is that there seems to be a zero survival rate.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Ms. Visci just had to turn on the news after church yesterday. The anchorwoman suddenly stood up, screamed and collapsed over dead during her live commentary. Then the Johnson girl was absent from school today. That child has never missed a day of school before in her life. Andy and I stopped by the Johnson home on our way home. Mrs. Johnson is ill. Mr. Johnson said he didn’t see the point in sending the children to school. Andy with his eternal optimism and faith tried to reason with him, but Mr. Johnson’s mind is made up. Bye-bye denial. It has officially invaded our community, and I think my dog, Wiggly, has it. I’ve noticed some unusual twitching from her.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Andy asked me to marry him. He thinks I won’t sleep with him because we’re not married. I didn’t say no, but I didn’t say yes either. I did say that I wasn’t waiting for marriage and that I love him; that my hang-ups have nothing to do with him. He’s picked enough information from me to know my childhood was traumatic. He let me know that when I’m ready to talk, he’s ready to listen. I just need him to love me and accept me at face value. If I told him half of what my childhood and adolescence was like, he would probably look at me like I’ve grown a second head. Then he’ld probably get stuck on trying to figure out how I manage to function like a normal person. I’ve had it happen before. I’ve learned the hard way not to share too much about myself. I’ve confided a lot in Ms. Visci. She says I’m a miracle. Miracles… I don’t know if I believe in such a thing.

TODAYS’ THOUGHTS

Half of the students were absent from school. I normally have twenty-six to thirty students per class. Now I have about half that. And yesterday Wiggly bit me; I had to chain her out in the back yard. She doesn’t seem to recognize me and she’s not eating her food.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

The college students have started going home. They want to be with their families. All the people who matter most to me are right here. People are dying here too. Andy helped me bury my Wiggly, just a little mutt I picked up from the animal shelter but I loved her. I tried to make an appointment with the vet, but there was no answer. I’m not sure if she expired from the virus directly or from starvation or dehydration. She didn’t eat or drink a thing for three days and I couldn’t get near her. She barked, growled and snapped wildly every time I tried. I could have shot her and put her out of her misery. I should have shot her and put her out of her misery. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it and I can’t ask someone else to do something I’m not willing to do myself. I only have about a half dozen students showing up per class and with nearly half the staff absent we’re going to consolidate the remaining students and I’m taking over Social Studies and Health.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

My beloved friend and mentor, Ms. Visci, is ill. It’s not bad yet, but it still scares me. To see such a strong independent woman weakened in this way breaks my heart. Not many students or teachers are making it to school. I deliberately don’t count out of my own selfish need to protect my sanity. But I know Andy could rattle off the numbers if I asked. One of the major networks is nothing but snow. The others are endless reruns except for an occasional news broadcast done by a skeleton crew. We still have electricity so far and everyone around here either owns a generator or has windmills and solar panels. So we’re just waiting for the power company to shut down.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Ms. Visci is too ill to come to school. There are no students coming to school anyway. Andy is helping me look after Ms. Visci. It’s like a ghost town here. We’ve been without power nearly a week. But it could be worse. We’ve had no looting or rioting. People are basically keeping to themselves. We help each other when we can. Usually we only see small groups of about a half-dozen people when some one has died and needs to be buried. There are no fancy trips to the cemetery. We bury our dead in the backyard with the family pets that have expired. Ms. Visci is unafraid of dying. She did cry profusely over the loss of her beloved pets: two dogs: Bob and Marley, two cats: Fleetwood and Mack and her cockatoo: Shaggy. She’s actually comforted by knowing she’ll be next to them. She’s lost the ability to control her bowels and bladder and keeps apologizing for it and telling me what a good daughter I am. So, she’s a little confused too. Ms. Visci has no children of her own. But I guess I am the closest thing she has to a daughter, so I’ve taken to calling her mom and so has Andy, who has become a good son-in-law for her.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

We buried Ms. Visci the other day. It’s been a few days since we’ve see anyone else. I think Andy and I are the only two people left alive in town. I went for a walk by myself. I just needed to be alone and stretch my legs after being cooped up in Ms. Visci’s for three weeks looking after her. During my walk I noticed the Johnson’s front door was hanging open. I now hate my own curious nature. I went inside calling for them. I was not surprised when no one answered. Out back were two graves. One was their potbelly pig, Porky. The other was Mrs. Johnson. Mr. Johnson hand made the crosses for their graves. I found the children were in their beds. Mr. Johnson used a silencer. I thought I had seen too much before this. But I’ll never be able to erase the sight of the Johnson girl from my mind. That sweet intelligent child lying in her bed angelically, as if she were just napping, with that ugly tattletale hole in her forehead. I’ll never again hear her say, “Ms. Oaktree, I’m taller than you.” To which I always replied, “Honey, most people are taller than me.” Her younger brother was in his bed as well. Mr. Johnson had laid himself on his bed before he put the end of the silencer in his mouth. He left a note taped to the dresser mirror asking for forgiveness. I picked up the gun with the silencer attached and the box of ammo from the dresser and took these items with me. I don’t know why I did. I put the Johnson gun up with my own little thirty-two in the house I no longer need make mortgage payments on. Money, currency, those words are meaningless now. Andy and I decided to live in my house for now because it’s smaller and has it’s own well. It’s not attached to city water or sewer. We toted his generator over as a backup to my windmill and solar panels. The fact that it wasn’t dependent upon public utilities was a major selling point for me. We’ve begun scavenging for the things we need. It feels weird entering what was once someone’s home. The family photos on mantels, walls, and tables; the occasional body or two on the sofa, bed or floor. One couple obviously died together in their bed. In the independent homes like my own, I turn off left on lights, TVs, family movies on continuous play. I turn them off even though there’s no one left to complain.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Andy had been looking at me sideways and brooding off by himself for a couple of days. Sideways with his eyebrows knit together, I can’t describe the look adequately. When I asked him, “What?” he would just grumble to himself and shut himself in his room. Yes, I was still holding out. For what, I don’t know. Maybe the self-imposed celibacy was a defense mechanism. Most guys go away when you don’t put out right away. Least wise the ones who aren’t going to try to beat it out of you go away. Then word gets out that you don’t put out and nobody asks you out anymore. Except, for maybe the ones who don’t have any qualms about beating it out of you. But I guess Andy couldn’t take it anymore. He begged and said he needed me. Not that I believed the needing me part. I just couldn’t think of a good reason to continue to say no. He was a little rough, but that didn’t bother me. I have a few fingertip bruises here and there. He’s mad at himself about it. Shoot, my body needed it just as badly as his. I expected a lot of questions about my scars and stretch marks, but he didn’t ask any. Most of my scars are on my back; cigarette burns and whip marks from an extension cord. He traced my scars lightly with his fingertips and kissed them. Then he held me and cried. He said he was sorry repeatedly. Murmured that he had wanted our first time to be romantic. Mumbled that I shouldn’t have suffered so much as a child. I comforted him as best I could. I’m really not good at such things. I told him it didn’t matter now because I have him, and I meant it. He trembles slightly in his sleep.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

It’s only been a few days since Andy and I began sleeping together. I know it had been several years for me. But for Andy, he had just broken up with a girlfriend of two years about a month before he met me. He said she was a “Barbie Girl, all plastic and maintenance.” I am so the opposite of that. Nearly all my clothing is sensible and career related. Make-up? My philosophy on make-up is it’s not something you put on everyday like clean underwear, special occasions only. And if it takes longer than fifteen minutes to fix your face, it’s broke and can’t be fixed. Basically, the same rules apply for my wavy mass of black hair. I like it clean and out of my way. Andy said he knew I was the one from our first lunch together in the teacher’s lounge with Ms. Visci. I think that’s ridiculous, but I didn’t say it out loud (smart me). The trembling in his sleep seems to be worsening. I’m worried.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Why is life never fair? Andy trembles nearly twenty-four hours a day and has no appetite. The only time he sleeps peacefully is right after we’re intimate, and then only for a couple of hours. If I catch him immediately upon waking, I can get him to eat and drink. Then he just wants to be intimate again. He’s wearing me out. Plus, he’s running a mild fever. We’re both exhausted.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

I buried Andy yesterday.

TODAYS THOUGHTS

I was wandering around crying silently, as if there was anybody to hear me. I was contemplating suicide; hadn’t considered suicide since my teens as a means of escape. When I noticed a small child sitting on the front steps of a little house. She was very dirty. But with the way small children get dirty, it’s hard to tell if it was one day’s dirt or several days. She speaks very well for a toddler and is completely potty trained. Good thing since I don’t know anything about potty training. She was able to tell me her name is Mia, she’s two and her birthday is Christmas. She couldn’t tell me her parents’ names and I didn’t feel like searching the house for information. The details don’t matter now anyway. She told me her Daddy died and Mommy won’t wake up. I told her everything would be fine because I would take care of her now. Stopped at a store on the way home and picked her out some clothes. Mia picked out a few toys. I enjoyed giving her a bath and listening to her sing. She has big almost black brown eyes like my own and her hair is jet black and arrow straight. She’s definitely of mixed race like myself. But what races, I’m not sure. Perhaps something similar to myself: Native American with a little of this and a little of that. The number of nursery rhymes and children’s songs I know surprises me. Mia asked if I was her mama now since I do everything for her like her Mommy did. I told her, “Yes,” so she calls me Mama now. I’ve been nauseous the past couple of days. I pray to God that I haven’t contracted the virus. Not now, Mia needs me.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

It dawned on me that my cycle is past due. So we walked to the pharmacy and I picked out a couple of pregnancy tests. The results were positive. I’m not sure how to feel about it. Mia’s excited. She’s lonely for the company of other children. I wouldn’t mind an adult conversation myself.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

I’ve decided to take Mia and leave. I’m not sure where we’re going exactly, but there’s nothing for us here. I already had baskets attached to my bike for toting my manuals back and forth to school. At the bike shop I found a child seat I’ve attached to my bike plus a lightweight cart I’ve attached to the back. With the cart attached I won’t be using the kickstand. I’m trying to pack as light as possible. But 2-liter jugs of water are heavy, so I’m only taking two plus two water bottles. The gas stations and stores around here still have plenty of bottled water as well as soda pop. I’m hoping it will be the same as we travel. I think the hardest part will be providing decent meals; even though, I’ve become a wiz with spam. Mia often asks for hot dogs and bologna. I’ve found a canned product that she accepts as a substitute. I’ve decided to take the guns, just in case. Our town went out quietly, but I know others didn’t. I found a couple of nice holsters in the gun shop. I don’t think a shotgun and extra ammo can hurt. Better safe than sorry.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

We’ve made it to the city just Northeast of town. I’ve decided on Washington, DC. I’m curious to see what kind of information the government had that didn’t get shared with the public. This city didn’t go quietly. There are broken storefront windows, burned out buildings, and even a couple of bodies with tattle-tail holes. Locating a market with bottled water and canned soup wasn’t hard. If any people survived here, I haven’t seen them. But it’s a big city; there may be survivors somewhere. We do have company though. A dog came trotting up to us shortly after we arrived. She’s a little on the thin side, but has a pleasant disposition. Mia is delighted with our new companion and has named her Puppy. A full-grown Rhotweiler named Puppy, but Puppy doesn’t seem to mind.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

We’ve made it to Washington DC. We’re sleeping in the White House. The first few days of travel were the hardest. I would wake up stiff and sore from biking all day. Puppy kept up nicely. She’s thickened up since she’s been with us, easier to get to eat when you have some one to open doors and cans for you. Along the way I saw a rat here and there, a couple of rabbits one day and a deer another day. It gives me hope. Most vegetation has survived as well. I had a terrible scare yesterday after we got here. I was coming up the steps with Mia on my hip, it’s faster that way; when a man came running around from the side of the building. I pulled a gun on him. He put his hands in the air and grinned at us like a crazed Cheshire cat. Apparently, when he heard my footsteps and voice, he got excited. He was afraid he was the only person left. His name is Ben, but for all I know he’s some kind of serial killer or wacko. I pushed a dresser in front of our bedroom door just in case. Mia and Puppy like him, but what do dogs and children know? He’s tall, a little taller than Andy, with a thin build, blond hair and blue eyes. He says he’s been here about three days. I’m leery of him. No bad vibes or anything like that, just my usual unease around strangers. He’s been showing me the files of information he’s been going through. The explosion was an accident during weapon testing, but our government, who was doing the virus experimentation, funded it. The Great Holier Than Thou United States of America (that no longer exist) was over there doing experiments it forbid and scolded the rest of the world from doing. And it wasn’t just one virus; there were several genetically engineered viruses. Some how, I’m not surprised.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Ben has a lot more education than myself. There’s a lot of medical jargon in the files. I find myself getting lost trying to read the information. Ben has to translate for me and then I feel stupid for asking; even though, he seems delighted to translate for me. Until I know him better, I don’t know if that’s true delight or not. He slips in little personal questions under my radar and I answer and feel stupid again for being so open with someone who’s still a stranger. But it seems we have a new companion. Ben wants us to travel with him. He’s headed to North Carolina. He says his parents had an estate built in the mountains near the Cherokee Reservation. Estate… Apparently, Ben comes from money. Only people with money own estates. Yet he seems like a nice guy. He says they built it to be an independent home: solar panels and windmills to provide power and running water. He says that if he knows his parents, every cabinet and shelf is full. He wonders how many of the animals, mainly the Buffalo herd, survived, if any.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

We’ve made it to Ben’s parents’ estate. We have neighbors. About half of the people on the Cherokee Reservation never became ill like Ben, Mia and myself. Quite a few animals in the area too, a mosquito landed on my arm and I just stared at it. Lord forbid, I swat and kill the last mosquito. Ben asked about my daily nausea and frequent need to pee on the way here. So, I just told him, “It’s morning sickness. I’m pregnant.” He didn’t seem surprised, but relieved. Mia has decided he’s her new daddy and Ben doesn’t mind. He had a daughter who would have been twelve this year. My son, wherever he was, would have been seventeen. Yes, I assume the worst. I just hope he was loved and well cared for by his adoptive parents.

We found Ben’s parents sitting together in the family room with glasses of wine on the coffee table and two empty bottles of sleeping pills. An extremely large sheet of plastic had been draped over the sofa and covered a good deal of floor in front of the sofa, so nothing that oozed from their decaying bodies would soil said sofa and floor. So much thought put into the act of dying. They watched digital home movies and left a digital video message on the coffee table for Ben. They were both sick and knew they were dying. They didn’t want to suffer and prayed that Ben, his brother, Tom, his sister, Marsha and all the grandchildren would survive. We buried them with the assistance of a friend of Ben’s from the reservation he met in college, George and his wife Sarah. They have two young children a little older than Mia.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Ben has offered George and Sarah one of the four other houses on the estate, the one closest to the main house. He says Mia needs other children to play with and I agree. The main house is huge. Most of it will go unused, I guess. The kitchen alone is the size of my small independent home with a walk-in-freezer stocked full of frozen meats, mostly Buffalo, and Ben is an excellent cook. On the first floor besides the huge kitchen is a formal dining, formal living, family room, an office with two desk, two large guest rooms with a full bath between them, a half bath near the kitchen off the laundry/linen room and an atrium with herbs, spices, tomato and pepper plants growing in it. The second floor appears to be set up for two families in the form of two suites. In each suite there’s a master bedroom with full bath and two bedrooms with a full bath between. Situated between the two master suites is another family room, laundry/linen room, half bath and playroom. The center is open to the first floor. There’s a walk-up attic too and a system of environment friendly ponds for waste management. I’m a bit overwhelmed by the enormity of the house. I never imagined living in such a place.

Ben wants to start showing me around the property tomorrow. He’s sad. I think he was hoping to find his parents alive. I stopped hoping a long time ago. For years I hoped my mother would get clean and stop bringing home perverts. For years I hoped that when my father got out of prison, he would be the father I needed, didn’t happen. I learned the only person I could depend on was me. The only person that would save me was me. Yet it bothers me to see him sad, and I stink at comforting people. We’ve set up residence in the two guest rooms on the first floor. Ben in one room, Mia and I in the other. No, I don’t push a dresser in front of the door at night. I know Ben won’t hurt us. He’s gentle, kind and intelligent. Any man that will stand over you holding your hair out of the way consoling you while you yack into the toilet because your pregnant with another man’s baby gets my vote for Man of the Year.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Having George and Sarah around is comforting. George gives Ben another man to pal around with. They ride on horseback every morning to check on the livestock that survived. Surprisingly, most of it survived. They usually tote back with fresh fruit and nuts. We have groves of various fruit and nut trees. Sarah gives me a female friend to share chores and child rearing duties with. I’m the self-appointed educator for the children and Sarah assists me. My pregnancy is beginning to show. Sarah and George have assumed Ben’s the father and Ben says there’s no reason to tell them any different.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Trying to sleep in that big bed by myself was making me crazy. I’d been prone to climb into the twin bed with Mia. Ben brought the twin bed down from the attic for her and set it up across from the big bed I’d been attempting to sleep in until I had a bad nightmare the other night. I don’t even remember it clearly now. I’m prone to nightmares, but this one had me scared, in tears and on the edge of a panic attack. Crying is not something I’m prone to and I hate panic attacks. I checked Mia and Puppy and went to Ben’s room to check him too. I startled him awake, but he was immediately concerned with my well-being. I explained that I’d had a nightmare but didn’t explain how disturbed it left me. He pulled back the covers and told me to “hop in.” I didn’t hesitate and settled into his arms. He said if my having a nightmare was the only way he was going to get to hold me, he hoped I had more. It made me laugh. And I started it, I kissed him first.

TODAY’S THOUGHTS

Ben’s bed and bedroom are now also my bed and bedroom. His room is our room, Mommy and Daddy’s room. I think Mia may have forgotten her natural parents, which may be for the best. I think of Andy as I rest my hand on my swelling abdomen and feel a little guilty. I miss him, but I wouldn’t give up Ben and Mia for him. Is that selfish? Maybe. But when you wake up between a good man and a wonderful child who love you and a loyal dog at your feet on the bed, you have acquired yourself a family. No I didn’t get to walk down the aisle in a pretty white dress, never expected to do such a ritual. There was no ceremony of any kind. Yet I know with my whole heart and sole that I am Ben’s wife and Mia’s mommy. I’m carrying our baby and Puppy is our dog. No, my life is not perfect and I’m far from it myself, but this is close. It’s simply good to be me.

God Made Man So That Man May Know Joy?

God made man so that man may know joy. The important word in that sentence is MAY. We are not promised joy. It's like the pursuit of happiness. You can pursue it all you like, but you may never have that either. I've tried to be a good Christian. I pay my tithes and I don't do it with a chip on my shoulder. I'm happy to pay my tithe. I consider it a great blessing that I have a job now and am able to pay tithing. I quit smoking a number of years ago and I was never a heavy drinker so giving up that was no great hardship for me. But I was a pack a day smoker and there are days when that is still hard. As for my vow of chastity, not always so happy with that. Boy, it's amazing how quickly a man loses interest when he learns you're not going to be putting out any time soon unless he marries you first. Goodness are many men just flat out commitment phobic.
My life has always been difficult in one form or another. I have struggled in many ways. And through many things that would have broken another person's faith, I had managed to keep mine. I do not expect my life to be easy. I expect certain things to be difficult and to have hard time. My current occupation has me working in a call center where sometimes the customer biggest problem is the tech is running late for the install of their service in their second home. I don't think people with second homes should be allowed to complain. I live in a basement apartment with the spiders and the centipedes and anytime they want to trade for a couple of weeks I would be happy for the vacation.
I expect some hardships and I don't expect anything to be handed to me on a silver platter. But I did think that when I finally met my eternal companion that there would finally be some things that would finally just fall into place. I thought on this one thing, God would not let me down or make me wait any longer. After all I'm already fourty-one and no one is promised any certain amount of time on Earth.
But the jokes on me. I have met my eternal companion and no he wasn't quite what I was expecting yet I fell in love with him instantly. Except Heavenly Father seems to have forgotten me. Instead of things falling into place in any way, shape or form, my eternal companion did not recognize me as his eternal companion because he is blinded by the world. Instead he has ignored me, turned his back on me, walked away from me and married the wrong woman.
I haven't been to church in weeks except to drop off my tithes because I find no comfort there surround by all the other couples. I am in no condition to take the sacrament. My heart is broken and my mind a confused mess. I've taken off my garments and put them away because I don't feel comfortable in them. I was so happy when I became temple worthy and took out my endowments and looked forward to the day when I would be sealed for all time and eternity to my eternal companion when we finally found each other.
Okay, I found him. But he doesn't know he's found me and has married someone else. And the fact that it's not a temple marriage doesn't bring me any comfort.
I've survived so much, been strong through so much. On this one small thing, why didn't Heavenly Father have my back? I did everything I was supposed to do. I fasted and I prayed. And I believed. I believed. Then he married the wrong woman.
I don't know who God thinks I am. In this one thing He has truly over estimated my ability to endure to the end. Because if I have to live the rest of my life watching my eternal companion be married to another woman, I'ld rather die.
God made man so that man may know joy. Well, it certainly doesn't say so that woman may know joy and He never promised we would have any.

Single

For some reason unknown to me, being single has begun to bug me since I past 40. It didn't really bother me in my twenties or my thirties. Yet lately I've been getting this odd sensation that I'm supposed to be married by now. I feel as if my expiration date is approaching but someone has already pulled me from the shelf and decided I'm not as good as the younger models that have just rolled off the assembly line.
So, I have been doing my best to put myself out there and advertise myself. I have registered with three different dating websites and that doesn't seem to be doing the trick. So, I have also been trying to attend more single activities put on by my church. I have found most of these activities to be quite terrifying. I'm originally from Ohio and have only resided in Utah the last four years. Where I come from, you just get out there and shake what yo momma gave ya to the beat of the music. Here, they're into ballroom dancing. I like to watch Dancing with the Stars and under the right circumstances, I wouldn't mind learning how to do a little ballroom dancing. But to show up at a dance stag and find that everyone else seems to know what they're doing is terrifying. I'm more comfortable with the pot luck dinners. Betty Crocker I may not be, but I do alright in the kitchen.
But I got invited to a singles picnic that was today, Saturday. And I went not knowing what to expect, except to meet up with some new associates and see what happens. I guess they had planned for us to play volley ball after we ate, but all of the volleyball nets were being used by younger more in shape folks than us. So we couldn't beat them up and send them on there way. Instead we played volley baseball. Something I had never played before. But it wasn't much different than baseball, except that you could tag a player out by hitting them with the ball like in kick ball.
Well, I'm one of those people that does my best to give 110% or better when I do something. I had worn athletic shoes instead of something cute because I didn't know what type of activity they had planned for us. The park was beautiful and is was a beautiful day. Problem was, I'm wearing athletic shoes on a baseball diamond that was made for cleats. So running full out, not a good idea. But I ran full out anyway. I managed not to loose my balance completely between and first second as my athletic shoes slid on the smooth soil meant for cleats. I made it to third. But between third and home, my feet slid out from underneath me on the meant for cleats soil and I wiped out.
My lovely naturally tan legs that I had carefully Naired are not a lovely matching pair at the moment. My right leg is wearing the battle scrap from knee to to mid-calf as a symbol of my valiant effort for my team. My right arm isn't happy either. I think I may have fractured it. I'll see how it behaves, which isn't very well at the moment, for the next day or two. If it still feels this bad or worse on Monday, I'll have it looked at.
And you want to know what? I'm so glad I went to that picnic. I had a great time.

The Passenger

Why do human beings want to live forever? Beats me, it's not all it's cracked up to be. Hell, after a few thousand years, most go crazy. Me? I haven't gone crazy yet.

Who am I? I am who ever my current host is, I guess you could say. My parents didn't give me a name. I just inherited all their knowledge and life-experiences from both of them. Which means I have a lot of information. Some of it useful, some of it not. Most of it didn't make any sense until I had my own life-experiences to relate it to.

Yet, here I am, still living among you. I've been worshipped as a god. Bowed down before by you as a Pharaoh, a king and a queen. I've been a man, but I prefer to be a woman. With men, as long as there's sex involved, they'll go with you. You don't even have to be pretty.

Who am I now? I'm currently a single mother with two kids. Or at least, that's how it appears. Because you see my host, not me, because I live inside my host.

I'm a parasite, but I don't live off my host. That would be counter productive. But I do feed off other human beings. Don't worry, I don't have to kill my prey to feed. Even though, the best feeding is achieved by sucking the prey dry of its life force. If you suck the prey dry, the feeding last between a decade to a quarter of a century depending upon the age and health of the prey. The younger and healthier the prey, the better the feed. That's why virgins were often sacrificed to us.

The way I do it, I select men between twenty and fifty years of age. The feed last between three to five years. It means I have to hunt more often, but there's no trail of bodies either. Just a guy here and there that thinks I'm kinky, or rather that my host is kinky. But I don't hunt in the town I live in. I drive out of town, and move every decade or so.
I only stay with a host about half a century now. The benefits of being a host are excellent health and longevity. How do you think those guys in the bible lived so long? The blessings of being a God fearing man? Please.

Not that you don't have creators, you do. They invited us here because we would give you excellent health and longevity. Our realm was imploding, they offered us refuge here in your realm on your world.

They hadn't meant for you to grow old and die. But they are feeding off your souls after all.
That's right folks, and for those that are a little slow, I'll put it bluntly. You are not the top of the food chain. The reason you grow old and die is because your creators are constantly feeding on your souls.

They've gone by many names: Zeus, Apollo, Hera, Aphrodite, Ra, to name a few. And they did interact with you in the beginning, or rather what you think of as the beginning. You can even reproduce with your creators. you were after all created in their image. But it's been a long time since you've reproduced together. The last guy that was born of such a union, you now call your Savior and pray to him. Not that he's not capable of hearing your prayers. But come on people, do you really think he's listening? Well, maybe once in a great while just for a laugh.

I wonder what they do over there on their side of the veil to keep themselves busy. They're not here hunting to survive, that's for sure.

And sometimes I think they made you way too intelligent for your own good. figuring out your average life expectancy, counting and keeping track of each other like cattle. That's why I have to change host about every fifty years. If the villagers got suspicious because we didn't seem to be aging, we just moved on, went some place else. Sometimes we even faked our own death. No body in a burnt down house, no problem. Not possible these days.

These days, by the time I get my host's life in order and we're finally living comfortably, it's time to go to a hospital and pick out a new host.

Yes, a hospital is the best place to find a new host. There are plenty of unconscious people. Where do you think miraculous recoveries come from? God? Not that your creators aren't capable of healing you and extending your lives, but they don't bother with that anymore. You do very well at it yourselves now anyway.

When I found my current host, she was in the hospital having a paldynado cyst removed. Not necessarily a life threatening condition, but very painful. She was thirteen. I thought: "Cool, teenage guys are always horny. My next feed is going to be so easy."

And it was easy. The only problem is the only reliable form of birth control is abstinence. So, in the process of getting myself fed, I got my host pregnant at fifteen. Not me personally, but me, as in, I was in control that night. I was driving the car so to speak.

There was a time when humans volunteered to be the host for my kind. And lined up begging to be the human sacrifice, eager to be the one to die while being embraced by a god. And just for the record, I wasn't the one who told that lie. One of your own creators said we were gods too. And adoration is fun for a few centuries. Then it starts to get monotonous.

I think it may be the monotony that drives some of us crazy. And one of us gone crazy inside one of you is a bad thing. Children, can you say Hitler? Count Vlad the Impaler? Nine Eleven? How about Jack the Ripper? Child Corpse Collecting Chad? Harold the Human Skin Collector?

You guys don't need any help killing each other. And when one of us goes nuts, we manage to take out a lot of you in all kinds of ugly ways. We try to police ourselves, but we're not as good at counting ourselves as you humans. I just know there are a lot more of you than us. And when one of us goes crazy, it has to be terminated. We usually do that by preventing it from getting a new host if their current host dies. You can keep a dead host's body animated about four hours. But you're integrated into your host. You're part of him or her. Part of their immune system, connected to their brain and spinal cord, to their intestines. Our tendrils are connected all over the place, including the respiratory system. I need oxygen too.

So, if you can't get out of your dead host, you expire too. You can heal a lot of things for your host including most cancers. I've healed damage that would of killed them otherwise. But I can't fix stuff like decapitation or a severed limb. We all have our limits.

Yet, I miss the good old days when my hosts were partners who shared thoughts and feelings with me, when we made decisions together. All my knowledge, was their knowledge too.
Now, They never know I'm there. I sneak into their body while they lie unconscious in a hospital bed. It's better if they're unconscious. No matter how you enter the body, it's uncomfortable, even quite painful if they fight you. And you do damage on the way in, but I heal it quickly. With men, there are only two ways to enter, orally or anally.

I know, eew, gross. I guess that might be why I usually choose a female host. Entering the body vaginally is easier than orally or anally. Less discomfort to the host too if you enter vaginally.

My first host was a young girl of eleven, a virgin. Don't ask me why they liked to use virgins for everything. It's certainly not necessary. But Cleo was so brave. She received me on her knees, opened her mouth willingly, never flinched, never screamed. Of course, the fact that she didn't struggle means she didn't suffer any pain, just momentary discomfort. I loved her very much. So many centuries ago, yet I still miss her very much.

The thing about going into a hospital and choosing a host is that you don't know everything you're getting. Take my current host for example. I really love and like her. She's awesome. But when I got her at thirteen, she had already been molested by a preacher as a preschooler. And just a few months before I got her, she had been raped at a party in her own home while her mother was downstairs partying. Her mother's a fairly functional addict. Her father is a drug pushing pimp, who spent most of her childhood in prison. She was a little suicidal when I got her. But I helped her through, subtly, of course.

She's not aware of me exactly. She's aware of me in the way that she's aware of her conscience, or rather she thinks I am her conscience. I whisper to her. She hears me the way she hears her own thoughts. And when she argues with me, she just thinks she's arguing with herself. But she's such a good person, a lot of internal strength and endurance.

When we got pregnant when she was fifteen, I say we, because you have to remember, I become an integrated part of my host. I hear with her ears. I see with her eyes. I touch with her hands. I experience everything she's experiencing: the good, the bad, and the Why me?
Yet finding yourself pregnant at fifteen... She was so scared. Her mother offered to take her for an abortion, but she didn't even consider it, decided to keep her baby. Her mother offered to sign papers so she could drop out of high school because she had the baby. But she didn't go for it. She stuck it out and got her high school diploma. Then got her bachelor's degree through a university partnership program at the local community college. Had her second child a year before she earned her bachelor's. That pregnancy didn't have anything to do with me. She was in a relationship with what we both thought was a nice young man. But his reason for dumping her was the pregnancy. What an ass! I should of fed on him and sucked him dry. Bastard!

My girl can't catch a break. Rotten parents, irresponsible fathers, two kids with special needs, beat up old transport, and she doesn't give up. She just keeps trying, keeps pushing forward. She's intelligent, honest, hard-working and reliable.

She's got herself some religion now. I can't say I'm exactly happy about it. Except it gives her hope. So, I'm not going to rain on her parade in this area. I've only ever lived in this area of the realm. For all I know, maybe you creators have some sort of paradise waiting for you all after you die. I have no trouble saying my girl deserves such a reward.

Except this new religion is going to be a problem for me. It's so strict. We're not allowed to have any fun. No coffee, no cigarettes, no booze. My girl's not a drinker, but I like to have one once in a while. I like the fruity ones.

Here's the big problem, she took a vow of chastity... Chastity!.. During sex is the easiest way to feed. Of course, I really enjoy sex too... I can manage to feed during hot and heavy making out. But she's not even allowed to do that.

I hate to totally take over and drive. That leaves her with a blank spot like a black out. Then if she finds out what happened while I was driving, she'll be afraid she's becoming a nut job like her mother. I don't want her to doubt herself. She's vulnerable and fragile as it is. And she's so lonely. She's hoping that if she's a good girl, God will finally reward her with her soul mate.

I'm not even sure I believe in such a thing as a soul mate. But I guess it's possible. My parents were in love. Said it was very rare for us to find someone to endure eternity with. My parents died when their hosts were beheaded. I have a sibling I haven't seen hide nor hair of in a few centuries. I have no idea if my sibling is even still alive. It's been nearly two centuries since I've come across another like me.

How would I know if another like me was in the room? Scent. Your noses are more sensitive than you think...

Okay, I want my host to be happy. She deserves it. And if she meets Mr. Perfect for Her, then what? I don't want to feed off her mate. A feeding that last me three to five years knocks up to a decade off the prey's life. I don't want to her to be a young widow because of me. But she's not the type to cheat. I'ld have to take over and drive... Hell, a lot farther than just the next town over. Because if it got back to him, it would ruin her marriage. And believe it or not, I'm trying to help make her life better, unlike her own parents. We don't talk to them anymore and have moved about as far away as we can get.

My girl has big brass ones. I gave her the idea it was time to move again and she ran with it. She spent a year preparing, packed up her kids, rented a twenty-four foot long U-haul and started driving.

Everything didn't go as planned. Yet, we've managed to land in a decent area. We haven't been here a whole year yet. And because of her rough upbringing, she's slow to make friends. She has trouble trusting people. But we're going to make it.

I have always managed to help my host build better lives for themselves. It would make me very happy if by the time I'm ready to seek a new host, she had a good mate to spend the rest of her life with and a nice fat retirement. She's never had a real vacation. I'ld like to see her get that. There's so much I wish I could share with her, let her know she's not alone.
I hate it when she cries herself to sleep at night. She's a quiet crier. She doesn't want her kids to know how lonely and scared she is. She's afraid that no one matter how hard she tries, her life will always be a living nightmare.

I want to tell her she is one of the bravest women I've ever known. Every bit as brave as my first host, Cleo. And braver than any male host I ever had.

I have found males to be unbelievably insensitive. A male will tell a woman he's gotten pregnant, without batting an eye, "It's not my problem," or "Get rid of it," often both. Like his own child is an unwanted litter of puppies or kittens. The laws protect pets better than they do children.

I did admit I prefer to have a female host, didn't I? That's because women are truly the strong ones. There isn't anything my current host wouldn't do to make life better for her children. For most males, their whole focus is themselves and their third leg.

Sorry, didn't mean to male bash. But remember, I have centuries of personal observations and experiences, centuries.

Boogie Man

I had the strangest nightmare the other night. Usually if there are actors in my dreams they are people I have the hots for like Dwayne Johnson, Vin Diesel or Keanu Reeves. But Charlie Sheen and John Cryer were in this dream.
So, me Charlie and John are in Africa I think, definitely somewhere hot, dry and deserty. We are on some kind of treasure hunt and have found this ancient tomb full of ancient text. And we have stopped for the night. It was an isolated two room hut where a woman and her two or three children resided.
Now, the tomb said that it should not be read before going to bed. But apparently we're so smart we read from it anyway just before retiring for the night.
As we began to lay down on straw mats on the dirt flour, Charlie became violently ill and died. But we weren't anywhere near where we could get help, so we tried to go to bed again.
This time John was attacked and bitten by a big mother-loving black spider of some kind. And I'm not sure if he was just unconscious or dead. But again, we're very isolated and there's noway to get help until morning.
So now this woman and I lay back down to try to get some rest. Her children are sleeping peaceful in the second room of the hut, and neither of us, me or the woman, are falling to sleep quickly.
We're barely a foot away from each other on the floor. Close enough that I feel her begin to tremble and I realize we're not alone and what ever else is in the room is not friendly. I have my blanket over my head as it begins to crawl over me.
It stops with one hand on my sleeping mat by the right side of my head and I can hear it breathing. I grab it's forearm and feel very dry desiccated flesh. Then it says to me in my mother's voice "Bad children awake at this hour come to hell with me."
Damn was I scared. It had my mom's voice. But I managed to say, "There are no children here. Go back to hell where you came from," and I broke it's desiccated arm. Then I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep.
My mother's voice was the scariest freakiest part.

I have finally gotten my Betty back. I didn't think it would ever happen, but I finally got my 1981 Chevy Camaro that I affectionately call Betty back. It happened new years eve. So I have start the new year of 2011 with my beloved Betty. Plus, tax season has begun and I'm back in business at least for the tax season preparing taxes. Still not much else available on the job front at the moment, but I'm hopeful. I think there is a light at the end of the tunnel and perhaps God hasn't forgotten me after all.