Jumble brain

My God. Where has the time gone? I think the last time I looked at this blog was at least a few years ago.  I had good intentions on writing but couldn’t concentrate.  Lots happened.  Life happened.  Good and bad happened.   Now.. here I am again with intentions on writing.  Will I do it this time?

i hope so.  But not just for the ‘I have a lot to share to the world’ reasons.  It’s a bit more complicated than that.  My reason is that I feel this would be good therapy. I’m living back overseas….this time on the other side of the world and I’m depressed.  I’m hoping that getting all of this muck in my brain out it could help me learn to enjoy…life again.


Fingers crossed.  The challenge starts once again.

Spinning yarns vs just plain bullshit

This has been good therapy writing about things from my past that have taken residence in my memories all these years.  Just about every little thing you go through as a kid can be considered a life lesson,  and sometimes you learn things by watching other peoples’ mistakes.    In this case, it was my ex.

He was all about status and how he looked to others. It was that mentality that rocketed me to an eating disorder and made me think for many years that I wasn’t good enough for anybody except for him.   When you’re in a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship the days all blur together and it’s very easy to get into the mindset that the way you are living at that very moment IS going to be the rest of your life.    I know I could have left at any time and I should have left, but I didn’t.   Thus the life lessons that I learned while I was with him.

He was very insecure.   Like, VERY insecure.   Every human being has some form of insecurity inside them.  It’s normal. Everyone, whether they choose to admit it or not really does care what others think about them.    Some of us just hide it better than others.    X tried to impress others by stories.    Stories I heard a million times whether or not I was actually there at the time or not.  He had a twist though,  he would twist the truth and add details every time he told it in order to get more of a reaction from his audience.   At first I thought it was a unique creativity he had in telling stories… but later on I saw it for what it was.  A really sad attempt at making people think he was more interesting and mysterious than he really was.     After a while, out of morbid curiosity  I would purposely bring up a particular story for him to recant to those we were with just to see just how much more he would twist a story that was originally very normal. At the time I didn’t see it as mockery, but that’s exactly what it was.   He was so serious when he would tell about these ‘experiences’,  and I found it entertaining to see just how far he would stretch it.      This is an example of what I mean.

Original story:   (What I actually witnessed)

One day at Disneyland we were standing outside of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.    A girl who was smoking a cigarette and dressed in denim walked past us into line leading up to the ride.  As she passed underneath the arch that read “PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN”  she took her cigarette out of her mouth and flicked it at the wall near where the trash can was.   It bounced off the wall and landed nowhere near the trash can as she continued into the ride.

End of story

The story that it ended up to be:

We were at Disneyland standing outside of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.  Suddenly we heard behind us a ‘TIK TIK TIK’ sound.  We turn around and see this tall thin REALLY ANGRY chick walking past us.  Her hair was spiked up in several jelled spikes,  she had on a denim jacket with spikes and the “TIK TIK” sound we heard were the metal spikes on the bottom of her what HAD to be 8 inch, if not longer heels.   She was dragging long heaves on her cigarette and looked like she was ready to fight anyone that looked at her wrong.    So, there was a sign right next to the entrance of the ride that says “No smoking past this point”.    Without breaking a step she takes one last heave on her cigarette and flicks it (imitates a peeetoyyeeeee sound to enhance the fact she flicked it so violently from her hand )   It bounces right off of the part of the sign where it says ‘no smoking’ and sparks fly everywhere.   There were a group of tourists standing nearby that had to step back otherwise the cigarette sparks would have hit them.  Oh my god!  It was so crazy!

annnnnd  scene!

The second story captivated his audience and got more of a reaction so therefore while he told it he was the center of attention.   He did that all the time even with the smallest of topics.   Another example,  his cousin Rusty.. who I was terrified of meeting by the way he was described to me.   The day I met him I thought I would be meeting a guy that closely resembled Charles Manson.   Scars all over his body from the numerous fights he was in throughout his life.   He only had tunnel vision in one eye due to being hit by a rock by a group of kids while he was younger.  He barely spoke and had a wolf as a pet, oh.. and a squirrel as a pet too.

Rusty turned out to be the sweetest person I had ever met.   (Years later after I had long left the X,   he considered me a part of his family.   His mom had taken me under her wing and helped me get back on my feet since I had invested everything I had in my relationship.  I had zero money, no place to live and decided that being desolate was a better option than continue my life with X which was clearly going nowhere.  My mother had recently passed away and I had nowhere to go,  Rusty and his family were my saving grace… seriously, I can’t even begin to say how much I love and appreciate them. ) Rusty had a rough life and did have run ins with the law, served jail time and battled drug problems.  He loved his motorcycle..   Unfortunately he was in an accident several years ago that resulted in the loss of one of his legs.  Through the rough exterior and everything he had been through in his life the man had a heart of gold and fought his demons to the very end.   Shortly after getting out of prison he moved back in with his mother and committed his time to fixing up his motorcycle and reconnecting with old friends.   One day he told his mother he wasn’t feeling well and was going to go take a nap.   He never woke up.   I never wanted to know details,  but from what I heard from others that he had some preexisting  health issues that caused his heart to stop.  Living hard finally had caught up with him.    His death hit those that loved him the hardest…  I’m so thankful that I had the opportunity to know him and that he considered me family.    If I had listened to X and his ridiculous stories I may never have.

X is no doubt still telling outrageous stories to this day to anybody who will listen  in desperate attempts for attention.   Stories about how he’s a direct descendant from King Charlemagne and how his father’s job at TRW involved alien communication (I’m not making this up)    Being around him all those years ago taught me to be real with people.   If they don’t like you for who you are,  then making up a story isn’t going to make any difference at all.   In fact,  chances are if you do that then people will most likely laugh behind your back instead.   Which is worse?

RIP Rusty…  ❤

Everything happens in your life for a reason… good OR bad, it all has a meaning

I’m a huge believer of that.

Have you ever,  with morbid curiosity ever wondered how your life may have turned out if you had taken another path in your life?   Made a different life changing decision,  stayed in a situation where you knew it was slowly killing you but too afraid to make that first brave step to independence?   I did… recently.    And I can honestly say I have only ever done this once and this was the first AND very very last time I will ever do such a thing.

I wasn’t seeking it out hoping that I could have missed out on something great.  My life right now is fantastic and I wouldn’t change a thing.  I guess the curiosity mainly stemmed from wondering if karma had indeed made herself known to that person that I shared my life with for over 12 years.

This person I chose to share my life with during my younger years was in a word insecure.  Very very insecure.  I didn’t see it at the time but he desperately needed attention and admiration to deal with his life.    To be blunt,  he was more fucked up than he would ever dare to admit.    His parents weren’t the best of role models.   His dad was some bigwig stuffed shirt at TRW that had a lot of money (or so he said)   and his mother worked for a telephone company (I think)    From what I had gathered by what he told me his dad was a playboy from day one and lied, cheated and ran out on his mother more than once.   When he was very young his mother and father decided to leave one another at the same time, leaving him to fend for himself alone in his apartment.  He used to tell me that he stayed there for a few weeks alone before his mother finally came to collect him and his belongings but in the meantime  he would go to school,  come home right afterwards and only eat whatever was easily accessible in the kitchen that he could open with a can opener and cook on the stove.   Later on in his high school years his father would throw money at him and pat himself on the back calling himself a good and loving dad.   He didn’t know at the time that his dad was really just giving him the child support money directly to his son,  to spite his mother.   The times he lived with his father there were a revolving door of Asian women that would frequent his time, leaving his son to raise himself  (and soak in like a sponge what a pathetic pig player his dad was,   treating women like playthings,  telling his son to lie to the ‘girlfriend’ from the week before if he was asked if there was another woman in his dad’s life)

I met him during a chorus ‘field trip’.  I can’t remember exactly where we had gone that day but my friend and I sat across from him on the bus and I was instantly attracted.    He held himself as if he was THE shit..  rode to school in a limo that his father paid for and concentrated more on his bad boy image than anything else.  I think I just liked him back then because he was different,  and he distracted me from all the drama and shit that was going on in my own world.   My parents were going through a nasty divorce and I hated being home around all the negativity.   It was a constant reminder that the family that I grew up to know was all gone and all I had of the happy times were memories.  He was my ticket out of that place,  and I grabbed it as quickly as I could.     I started ditching school with him and spent practically every waking moment with him,  my mom would let him stay over pretty frequently  (after getting me on the pill, that is)   After his class graduated (he didn’t, because he felt he was too good for school) his dad got him an apartment  and I moved in with him.     We stayed together for 12 years and in those 12 years he cheated on me repeatedly (or ‘he gave them self esteem’ as he called it)   and finally I was just done.  I walked away from what was left of that relationship and never looked back.

I’m not saying he was the only person at fault for the demise of our relationship.  I know I was difficult to live with at times.  I wasn’t a great housekeeper and I was so insecure that I let him basically do whatever he wanted from the beginning.   Keeping a relationship together, especially as young as we were would take a lot of work on both parts.  Unfortunately we became too comfortable with our situation and started to accept that this was how our lives were supposed to be.  Looking back on all of now though, I don’t see how I did it.

Forgiveness and Fear

Boy,  this is going to be a tough one.   It’s been on my mind a lot lately so I may as well get it out.   Now that I’ve gotten my writing mojo back for a time there are a ton of other drafts sitting waiting to be completed,  but those can wait a bit longer.

When people in your life start dying it’s normal to question your own mortality.    When you’re young it rarely (or at least with me)  crossed my mind that I, too would grow old, sick and die someday.   Death seemed like a long long way off so why even worry about it?    You hear about so and so who died after a long battle with cancer,  or so and so who was killed in a car accident.    Either way it starts to sink in that death is inevitable and eventually your time will come.

My grandma on my mom’s side passed away after suffering from dementia.   My last memories of her were when she was in the nursing home crying without her teeth.   The staff had misplaced them.     She was thin and gaunt and didn’t look anything like the grandma I used to watch Benny Hill with.  The worse she got the less I was taken to see her.    Eventually I didn’t go at all,  I think my mom wanted to make sure I remembered her in a more positive light,  which I can say now I’m glad she did.    Grandma passed away one day and I think my mom was by her side.   I asked her what happened when she died and she said  “She just let out one breath then that was all”.

My mom died from cancer back in 1998.    She was a lifelong smoker and didn’t go to the doctor until it was too late.   It started with lung cancer but had already spread to her brain.   The doctor told her there were so many he stopped counting lesions after a while (what an awful thing to say!)  Mom was sure she was going to fight it and in the early days of the internet she had heard of a new drug called Hydrazine sulfate on a news program.    I remember her calling me and saying this would be her cure.   “I’m going to be at your wedding someday!  I’m going to hold my grandkids someday!”   she would tell me.   I looked up everything I could on that drug and silently prayed nightly that she was right.  She endured radiation treatments to no avail.   The cancer was too advanced.      The last few months of her life she had distanced herself from me.   Once again my mom was protecting me from the grim reality that she was dying.   I didn’t know until years later that a hospital bed was brought to the house and that’s where she stayed until hospice took her.    I also didn’t know that by then she had wasted away to less than 100lbs,  was in diapers and mentally had reverted to a child.

Alzheimer’s took my father back in 2000.   He used to be such an intelligent man.   Worked for Skylab and then for Hughes Aircraft.    He was always there for me when I needed help with my homework and some nights we would just sit and play chess.   His disease progressed slowly and looking back on it all I could tell he was changing but I didn’t know exactly why.   After he left my mom and married Donna the story around the house was that dad was manipulated into going with her because he had Alzheimer’s. Up until my stepmother recently came back into my life I thought that very same way as well.  Now,  after re-getting to know her I see what is the truth.   My dad belonged with her.   She took great care of him in his later years and only when he needed medical care did she reluctantly admit him to hospice.   She would visit him often and more times than not she said he wouldn’t know who she was.  Donna cared for my dad as long as she possibly could and for that I am so appreciative that he had her.  Along with that,  the other thing I’ve come to terms with is that my mom,  even though I know she loved my dad,  wouldn’t have been able to handle my dad in this condition. The last time I went to visit him was in 1998 (I think it was just after my mom passed away).   My half brother and I drove out to Palm Springs to visit and he had no idea who we were.   He kept asking me if I was family.   Only once through the whole visit did I see a glint of recognition in his eyes and he started to cry “Oh, Stacey!!  my princess!   You’re here!!”    He hugged me,  we cried together then a few minutes later he was back to  “Are you family?  You’re so pretty!”  It broke my heart seeing him that way,  and I didn’t want to admit it at the time but Donna handled everything so well.    She had moved them to a housing area that was completely fenced off.   Dad had started to wander and if he did manage to get out of the house without Donna noticing  the extra security was for his own good.    Dad also fought prostate cancer   as his Alzheimer’s progressed and came out of it cancer free.   There was one incident in the hospital where he had managed to get out of his hospital bed,  remove all his catheters (including his urinary one,  ouch!!)  and became combative with the hospital staff when they tried to get him back to his bed.  Through all that I don’t think my mom could have handled it.   Dealing with someone whose mind is going must be as equally draining physically as it is mentally and emotionally.    The fact she did it as long as she did I applaud her for and am so thankful that I have this chance now to talk to her about things that I had always wanted to talk to her about.   We’ve been given a second chance,  and it feels good to tell her how much I appreciate her.     My dad would be happy if he knew that her and I were talking I bet.   I think now all he wanted all along was for me to accept her and support him being happy,  but back then I just couldn’t.   In my teenage mind all I saw was another woman stealing my father away and I couldn’t get past that.   It’s amazing how your mindset changes after you experience life, hardships and the real world.   Everyone deserves to be happy in their lives and I do believe in soulmates.   Dad belonged with her,  and that’s why things worked out the way they did.




With all of that being said now, this brings up “THE” subject that’s been weighing on my mind.  Alzheimer’s is inherited which means I could have the gene that carries the disease.  The fact that I may eventually start losing my memories and mind scares the shit out of me.   I’m not going to lie.   I am on quite a few medications for blood pressure, depression and an appetite suppressant and within the past few months I’ve noticed I have had a short term memory issue.   It’s especially obvious at work when I can’t remember names not even a minute after someone tells me.  I’ll walk into a room and forget why I was in there,  or the most annoying thing is when I leave the room to go do something like get a drink of water but I get distracted en route and end up making numerous trips until I finally am able to focus on what I ORIGINALLY entered that room for.    Overly sensitive?   me?    maybe… but look at the definition of Alzheimer’s.

What an awful death sentence to have.     I can’t help but wonder if my dad knew what he had or if it just gradually drifted him away to the point where he didn’t care.   I should ask Donna that.

How can you place that kind of burden on those that you love if you know you have the possibility of having that disease?  In that way I am a lot like my mom.   But on the same page,  what will happen to me if I do get to the point of wandering, diapers and being combatant?   It frightens me to tears and I don’t know how I should feel.  Just like my mom who would have meant well with my dad but would not have been able to care for him properly… how can I place this kind of responsibility on my loved ones?     I’m planning on meeting with a lawyer as soon as I do some more research so I can get my wishes documented for peace of mind.    Right now as things are,  I can’t in good faith subject anyone to the task of caring for me if I become an invalid.   I’m lacking that sense of peace that comes with knowing everything is going to be alright.

Or does that come later?   God I hope so.

Closure….. reopened (sort of)

Like I said before,  my stepmother and I have recently reconnected and a lot of old emotions have been resurfacing.  My dad passed away back in 2000 and even before then we had no contact for about 4 years before that.   Even before that our relationship was pretty strained… mostly because of what happened between him and my mother.  I blamed my dad and his new wife for everything and went out of my way when I was a kid to make their lives (well, mostly her life)  as miserable as possible when I was around.   My mom and dad had a very long and ugly divorce and so because of that my whole world was turned upside down.   Therefore I did what any normal teenager would have done.  I lashed out at everyone around me.

So, needless to say when my dad passed I knew he was in advanced Alzheimer’s  but really nothing more.  I was told in the form of a phone call from one of my half brothers.   All he said was “He’s dead”.   Both my half brothers which were dad’s sons from his first marriage had written dad off years ago.   They are off in their own worlds to this day and I never speak to them.  So as far as my father,   I had no contacts that could tell me anything more so instead of living a life of so many questions I started drawing up my own conclusions in order to feel some sort of closure.  One conclusion being that he went to his grave hating me.   My stepmother Donna’s reaching out to me online a few weeks ago was a total unexpected surprise.    At first I was really cautious with my wording with her because her and I had such issues in the past,  but now after talking to her several times I’m coming to terms with a lot of things.   The main one being is she loved my dad with all her heart,  and that they were in love back in their high school days.   Even when they both separated for a time and went onto other relationships Donna always held a torch for my dad.   Then when he started getting sick and showing signs of dementia she took care of him up until his final breath.    The fact my dad was happy is all that matters.  This is still an extremely hard thing to wrap my mind around and I’m taking it one day at a time (it’s hard not having my sister around to talk to…) .    I never thought this day would come… ever.

She recently sent me  a small package with the following letter.. I was home alone when I opened it so thankfully nobody was around when I sat and held the letter for an hour sobbing uncontrollably.  I hadn’t even peeked in the package yet.


I always thought my dad didn’t even give me a second thought after I lost contact with them.  What I had figured was my father was happy with his new wife and disowned me and my two half brothers.   When I was younger I felt abandoned by him and left it at that.  I mean, if I attempted to contact him then I would have also have to talk to ‘her’ and to me she was the enemy.   So I considered my father gone from my life.   In fact, I considered the whole “Norris” family gone from my life.   I didn’t want any part of being a Norris any longer.    It broke my heart but I never told anyone that.   Well,  I told one person, my sister.

Inside the little package was the following:

IMG_1831 IMG_1832 IMG_1833 IMG_1834

The picture with him and the older gentleman is my grandpa Norris.   He died when I was very young.   I barely remember him,  in fact all I do remember is going to visit him shortly before he died.     We went to my grandparents’ house and he was laying in bed with an oxygen tank next to him.   I remember climbing up on the bed and saying “I hope you feel better grandpa”  and seeing his eyes well up with tears.  Later on in the car on the way home my father told me that what I said to him was very nice and it made him happy.   I wish I knew more about him… I’m hoping my stepmom can help me out a little bit as long as she’s still willing and able to answer questions.  From what she has told me so far though,  dad’s father was his hero and he grew up to be more like him, rather than his mother who was……  well, let’s just say people in the neighborhood used to call her ‘that mean old woman’.

The picture of the girl with the giant hair is me..  yeah…   1988.   They had those studios in the mall called “Headshots” and my sister took me there for a birthday present.  They tease, tease and spray your hair up as high as it could possibly go,  then they stick it to a board.    When you leave there you look like a peacock since the back of your head is flattened from the board.    I don’t even remember giving my dad this picture and I’m so surprised he kept it in his wallet all of those years.    It means a lot to know this..

As I’m getting to know my dad all over again I’ve been going through a lot of emotions.  It’s been hard to concentrate when my mind gets churning about all of this.   It’s like I’m trying to make sense of all of this information at once which is literally impossible!    Hopefully I can sort this out so it’s manageable soon before I go crazy but until then it’s one day at a time.     I’m grateful I have Donna to talk to though,  if you would have told me a year ago that I’d be in touch with her again I would have never believed it.     Maybe dad made this possible somehow from wherever he is so I’d have some real closure…maybe?

When a boy kills a friendship…

Have you ever thought about someone from your past just out of nowhere for no reason?   Someone you haven’t spoken to or even thought about for well over 20 years?  Last night I had a dream about this person, and just like back when we were both kids, we were friends again.

It was the beginning of the  summer of 1986,  My pride and self esteem had just been completely trampled on being  freshly ‘dumped’ by the boy that eventually I got back together with and made my life miserable for the next 12 years,  so I completely immersed  myself in my friends in order to stay busy and be as active as possible so I wouldn’t be tempted to sit home and sulk.     This was going to be MY summer, damnit!   So,  that particular day my friend and I were headed on our bikes to the library.    The local library was only down the end of my street then a block over so we frequented it a lot during summertime.   Back then our idea of a good time was curling up in one of the beanbags on the floor and reading books for the summer reading Olympics thingie they did every year.   We were even really too old to sit in on children’s  storytime with ‘Lolly” the librarian but we did anyway.     yeah, I was a party animal..   but anyways…

I don’t remember exactly who all was there that day but I do know that was the day I met C.   She was sitting on the sign  of the Southeast Torrance library with a few of her friends yelling at cars going by. (back then you weren’t in danger of getting your face shot off just by acting like a stupid innocent teen)   I don’t remember the details of how we all got to talking but pretty soon I was up on that sign next to her and her friends laughing, talking and  shouting at cars too.    After that we became inseparable. Up until then I was pretty much a recluse when it came to friends.  Sure,  I HAD friends.. but I wasn’t a social butterfly that was invited to parties and absorbed myself in social groups like the other kids my age did.   I chose to hang around a small handful of people and stuck with those same people until one moved away and the other dropped out of school.   So, if my small clique of friends weren’t around  I went off by myself.    Thing is, it didn’t bother me.  I had teachers in grade school always call my mother with concern giving her reports of me sitting off by myself during recess when my friends weren’t there.  My teachers feared I had a social disorder but I think I just preferred to stick to what I was comfortable with.   She lived about 6 streets up from me which was an easy walk or bike ride every day to hang out.   That first summer was a blast.   We had formed  a small group of  her  friends that would sneak out late at night and cause what we called back then ‘mischief’.     We uprooted stop signs (when they were still easily lifted  wooden posts pushed into the soil and not metal posts in concrete) ,  Century 21 signs and carried them around,  pushed each other around in shopping carts and was home before daybreak.  We experimented with wine coolers (that was serious booze to us back then!)  and prank called people from school that we didn’t like.   We spent countless hours at the mall,  going to the beach and living the summer the way any teenage girl should live it.    She knew I was pining for a boy and I did blabber on about him occasionally…( ok, more than occasionally I would have probably throat punched me if I were her!)  My goal at the end of summer was to show up on my first day as a sophomore looking drop dead gorgeous and win back the boy who I thought was the love of my life.   She listened to all my banter over that and offered her support as best as she could.   Hell,  looking back on all of this  I don’t know how she did it without slapping me silly .    During that summer though we spent pretty much every waking moment together and I can say that she quickly became my best friend.    She fit the definition of what I had originally blogged about that a best friend is,  to a tee.   I’ll always remember that summer as one of the bests ones of my young life.   Getting to know her brought me out of my shell socially and made me some amazing memories.

Fast forward to the end of summer to the first day of school.   I showed up looking fine!   I’ll never forget… black denim mini skirt,  sandals and a pink and black top (it was the 80’s.. that was the style so no hating!)   I wish I had a picture of what I looked like that day.  My plan worked and I made Cris’s jaw drop to the ground.  (much to the dismay of the high school Banner Squad girls who all had crushes on him)  I didn’t care… I had just experienced an awesome summer, met some new people, made a new best friend and now won back the boy I thought I was meant to be with.

X’s father got him an apartment a few miles down from the high school for convenience,  threw a bunch of money at him and headed back to his soon to be ex wife in Alhambra. His dad considered his son an annoyance most of the time, and so just giving him wads of cash that were supposed to be going towards his child support made him feel like he was taking care of him.    He wasn’t.  X had no grip on reality and knew that if there were any problems he had gotten into that his dad would pay it away.  No amount of money could, however take care of the new friendships I had made over the summer.   That hurt his pride because he wanted to be the center of my universe.   Everyone remained neutral as long as possible.    Most likely occasionally exchanging glances with my mother who had now begun to full on hate him.  She saw what being with him was doing to her daughter, but I didn’t listen.   All she could do was helplessly sit back and watch me make bad decision after bad decision.

My best friend had sort of staged a bit of an intervention for me.   She had our group of friends come over and they tried to convince me that I could do much MUCH better than him.   In fact,  it was right during that time when a fellow classmate approached me and admitted he had feelings for me.   He asked me out on a few dates, and then to prom which I accepted.   Truth be told, I had begun to grow tired of living under X’s thumb… but his temper and constant threats of suicide made me feel obligated to stay with him.  He pretended like he needed me, but what he really needed was someone to stay with him that made him feel good about himself.   When I had no self esteem I was easy to manipulate blah blah blah.   The more that happened the more I noticed my once close friends were slowly pulling away

The straw that broke the camel’s back happened one night when C decided to have a party at her house.  I think it was a birthday party if I remember correctly.  I do know that the Disney movie Lady and the Tramp was rented that night so we could sing and purr along to the Siamese Cat Song.  Well,  the X got word that I was at C’s house and drove over.  I should have never went out to talk to him that night… that’s something I’ll always regret.   Because I went out there,  this was the night that mine and C’s friendship abruptly ended.   I don’t know how much she heard of what was going on between me and him in front of her house but X kept telling me to get in his car and I kept telling him no.  He then lit up a cigarette to try to upset me and puffed on it for a while.  I think I called him stupid for doing that and then told him I was going to go back inside to spend the evening with my friends.  It was then that the X pulled out a knife.   Things got scary very fast.   He told me if I didn’t get in the car he would hurt everyone I cared about.   There was also a claim of him having a gun underneath the front seat which turned out to be a lie,  but I got in the car with him that night and we drove away A few of the people at the party called the police and they chased after us.  He drove us to his apartment with the police in close pursuit,   They spoke to the X and it was determined it was a simple domestic incident between he and I.   I should have told them about his knife and about the threats, but I kept my mouth shut.  Well   after that night C never spoke to me again.   We went from being the very best of friends to strangers.   She had nothing to say to me and so we both went our separate ways.   I know I wrote a letter to her once not long after that incident,  I mailed it to her home address and got no response.  In 1998 when my mother succumbed to her brain cancer  I half expected to hear from her since our moms were friends,  but I got nothing.  After that I tossed out any pictures we had together and considered her dead from my life.   I could have really used her friendship during that time,  having a family member dying should trump any stupid argument in my opinion.  At least I know I apologized to her for being an idiot and the fact she didn’t accept the apology is something I’ll have to live with I guess.   X wasn’t worth losing my friendship with C but I learned that a little too late,  chalk it up to bad timing  😦

Jaycee Dugard

It’s 6:26 am and I’m wide awake.  My dachshunds decided that this is the perfect time to go outside into the icy yard for a potty.   The TV has been on all night on the ID channel and a    20/20 show is on.   The story of Jaycee Dugard and her life being abducted when she was 11 years old back in 1991.     I’m watching, in her own words all the things she dealt with.   From being tased before she was thrown into a car as she was walking to her school bus to being held captive in a makeshift shed in the back yard of a convicted sex offender.    Cris and I had moved up to South Lake Tahoe later that year.   It was where my father and step mother were at the time and I wanted to live close to him.    Cris’s own mom and step father were moving from Torrance up north to Foresthill so we came along with them.     We packed all our things into the moving van, along with our cat Jolly and headed on for Tahoe.    Posters of Jaycee were up all over town,  at every business.  Purple ribbons on trees and people wearing them as lapel pins.   One time I found out where Jaycee’s family house was and drove up there.  It was in a nice area near a place called Tahoe Paradise.   There was a HUGE purple bow fastened to their garage door.   I basically drove down the same road where the kidnappers had driven when they took that little girl to get to that house.   There were a lot of people that didn’t believe that the girl had been kidnapped,  that the parents had something to do with it.  There were a lot of fund raisers for the family, and some people voiced concern that it was all a ruse just to get money.   There was a 1950’s style drive in diner where  Cris and I would go and hang out with a group of locals.   They were some of the people that doubted the Probyn family.   They used to make snide comments like “Oh, look!  Another fund raiser so the Probyns can buy a boat in case they find Jaycee on the North side of the lake!”    Now that we know everything that we do,   I hope those people felt awful about what they had said.   That family was genuinely struggling and although there WAS a huge community rallied around them, there were many nay sayers that would accuse them of such awful things.  This teaches us an important lesson  not everything in life is a lie,  even things that look too impossible to happen CAN happen.   I hope she lives out the rest of her life with her daughters happy and fulfilled and someday finding love of her own.

By the way, if you ever get the chance to read her book “A stolen life: A memoir”,  I highly recommend it.