BUILDING SANDCASTLES

Pushed against the wall again

Trying to make it work

Pushed to the edge again

You hurt me with a smirk

I give you my every thing

You take it for granted

You give me your nothing

And you leave me stranded

I wonder what it will take

To make you notice me

If this heart will break

Who’ll be there to fix me?

Not you…not you…no not you

Thinking about all the things we’ve been through

Tells the story clearly and even though I lie to myself I know that

Building sandcastles in a snow storm is easier …

Than loving you…

I was just a young girl

Innocent and yearning

You became my world

Set it on fire, burning

Desperate and dreaming

I lied and lied again

Forgave the scheming

And let you in again

Now I am much older

Yet so much the same

Your heart just grows colder

While I go up in flames

I wonder what it will take

To make you notice me

If this heart will break

Who’ll be there to fix me?

Not you…not you…no not you

Thinking about all the things we’ve been through

Tells the story clearly and even though I lie to myself I know that

Building sandcastles in a snow storm is easier …

Than loving you…


Fourth Quarter, Fourth and Goal, Fancy Fakeout?

On the high tech gossip mill, otherwise known as the Internet, I came across an interesting blurb of information. Of course, this information is purely speculative, just thrown out there to stoke the fires of frustration and partisan verbal combat. I was intrigued and thought I would share the same in hopes of some colorful commentary.

This is the blurb I read:

Subject: Breaking News….Date: Tue, 16 Sep 2008 14:12:09 -0500

On or about October 5th, Joe Biden will excuse himself from the democratic ticket, citing health problems, and he will be replaced by Hillary Clinton. This is timed to occur after the VP debate on 10/2. There have been talks all weekend about how to proceed with this info. Generally, the feeling is that we should all go ahead and get it out there to as many blog sites and personal email lists as is possible. I have already seen a few short blogs about this - the ‘health problem’ - cited in those articles was aneurysm. Probably many of you have heard the same rumblings. However, at this point, with this inside info from the DNC, it looks like this Obama strategy will be a go.”

That is what the rumor mill is mass producing for consumption today. Let’s try to look at this as objectively as possible. (Yeah right!)

Whether you are a Democrat or Republican does not matter. I am not trying to push anyone to vote one way or the other. I just want to look at the strategy of the two teams - Team Obama and Team McCain.

It was the Third Quarter and Team Obama was down a touchdown or three when the Democratic Convention was gearing up. Trying to play the odds, Obama went for the old “hook and ladder” play and tried to up his ante with a seasoned professional, Joe Biden. Since everyone was saying Obama did not have the experience, he figured pulling and old guy from the bench and letting him strut his stuff in true “Longest Yard” fashion, Team Obama might close that gap by at least one touchdown. Some of the Democratic fans in the stands were elated. Foam fingers with the word Biden were fluttering in the stands. Some were pissed off. Some were still shouting for “Hillary” painted with her name across their bare, beer-bellied bodies even though Team Hillary had lost her chances in the playoffs.

Then, Team Obama loses the ball and Team McCain falls back into a huddle to strategize the next play. With the time clock ticking and the people in the stands cheering “Change”, Team McCain brought out the rookie. To sexify the race
(and satisfy the female voters), McCain let that wild cat Palin out of the cold of Alaska and out on to the field. She, with her carefully applied lipstick under her helmet, caused an uproar as she went in for the fake and scored a field goal with a rare drop kick. The crowd went wild and Team Obama was left standing on the field saying “what the heck just happened?”

Now, it’s scramble time. The time clock is ticking loudly. The cheerleaders are out on the field and the crowd is on its feet for the final plays of the game. Just when you thought you knew what was going to happen, just when you thought you know who was going to walk out with the Super Bowl rings, Team Obama might just change it up at the last minute.

Seeing the reaction that rookie Palin brings to the game, sensing that some Democrats (and even some Republicans) are pissed that Obama decided not to choose Hillary, Team Obama might be rewriting the playbook. Maybe the old superstar Biden ran his last play and it’s time for him to return to the bench and just settle for a job as the Defensive Coordinator. Maybe Team Obama is ready to go for it and bring in the second string, who has been sitting (somewhat) quietly on the bench, now fully warmed up and ready to take it down the field for the touchdown to tie things up before the final quarter of the game.

Maybe that is too heavy in football analogies. Maybe the blurb from the internet is just fluff. Maybe the next plays are still waiting to be seen.

Regardless, I am on my feet, with my hands clenched in anticipation, waiting to see who is going to take the victory. I want to know who is going to Disneyland!


A Liar is Among Us

Am I a liar? Is that really how people see me, as a fraud? That idea was cemented for me last night during a discussion with someone very close to me. It seems as though some of my actions, though intended for good, only prove to tell the world that I am a big fat liar!

Let me back track. This all began several months ago when I was feeling a bit down in the dumps. In true insecure fashion, I sent a message to those near and dear to me and afforded them the opportunity for brutal honesty. I asked them to be truthful and let me know my biggest faults. Several of them came back with smart ass comments in only the way that my Louisiana friends could provide. I chuckled and prodded them to be serious. I really wanted to learn something about myself. I really wanted to make myself a better person by changing some of my flaws. It is not often that a person wants to hear bad things about themselves and even less often when a person says they are willing to change – especially if that person is me!

At my urging, I got some heart-felt and sincere responses. Most of them referenced my sensitivity which I know is a big problem. I get my feelings hurt faster than Meredith Baxter Birney in any Lifetime™ for Women movie of the week. If you do not know the reference, imagine some woman crying because her husband cheated, her mom died, her son is battling cancer and she has been given only three weeks to live. That is the sort of emotionality to which I am referring. Knowing well that I can be a bit on the tender side, I am trying to toughen myself up. I am trying to stop taking things in the worst possible fashion. Goal one – stop reacting before I fully understand someone’s point. That, though most difficult for me at times, has been the most beneficial step that I have taken to be a better me and to make me easier to deal with. Hopefully those close to me appreciate the effort.

Yet, I had one friend that provided me with an answer that I had not expected. She told me that I was a liar. I was dumbstruck. I was confused. Truth be told – in true Kari fashion – I cried. Then, I stepped back and tried to really comprehend what she was expressing.

For those of you who know me well, I am one of those people that need to help. I said that accurately in that I do not want to help, I need to help. I feel better when I can assist someone with a problem, a dilemma, a life-crisis situation. I enjoy being the person that others turn to when they are in trouble, in need, in desperation. If I were honest with myself, I might admit that I am addicted to the feeling of being a savior.

Problem with saviors is that they tend to stretch themselves too thin. I am guilty of this crime as charged. I want to help everyone and I end up stressed and overwhelmed. This is where the lying comes into play.

I cannot say “NO”. I do not understand how to say “I CAN’T”. I do not know how to say “I DON’T HAVE TIME”. I refuse to say “I HAVE MY OWN PROBLEMS TO DEAL WITH AND CANNOT FIX YOURS.” Because of this inability, I burn my bridges at both ends, stress myself to the breaking point and end up with fatigue and other physical problems. Then I transform from savior to liar.

Friends and family want to return the favor of help and offer me their support, their ears to listen, their shoulders to cry upon. They ask if I am alright and I lie to their faces. I say “I AM OKAY” when everyone can easily see that I am far from contentment. They ask me what’s wrong and I say “NOTHING.” Those close to me see me in bouts of agony and discomfort and offer me a reprieve. I decline, lie once again, and say “I CAN HANDLE IT ON MY OWN.”

What I did not realize is that my assertions are lies. I say these things hoping to keep the burden from others, hoping to retain my independence and hoping that no one will notice how truly vulnerable I am. I fail horribly at hiding my weaknesses. I fail horribly at hiding my emotions. If you know me at all, you know that my facial expressions and body language speak for themselves. I cannot control them, though I lie to myself and to the world, and say that I can. I am a liar. I am a teller of untruths. I am a deceiver. I am, using the vernacular of my grandfather, full of shit.

Now, I need to do my best to change that awful truth about myself. I really just want to deny it and say it is other people’s problems if they want to look at my kindness for releasing them from any responsibility for me as a lie. I want to say that I really am doing a good thing by trying to handle my own problems on my own. I want to remain exactly the same and hope that people will accept me as I am. I want to say those things but that too is just bullshit. If I said those things, I would still be a liar – this time, I would just be lying to myself.

Since I have only come as far as the realization and acceptance of the fact that I am a liar, I am a bit lost. So, my first attempt at changing this habitual lying will be to admit that I am not alright. I am not content. Frankly, I feel a bit overwhelmed and could use some help. If anyone has any ideas on how to transform this liar into a regular girl again, please feel free to share. And in true Kari fashion, I offer you all an apology for lying, for disrespecting you and for turning you away when you were just trying to show how much you care.


Life Chaotic

Down power lines litter the streets. Trees are ripped from the earth and now rest atop homes and businesses. There is no power. There is little water. Cars are lined for miles around the corner from the one gas station that is open for business. And after a few days of chaos after Hurricane Ike, I am desperate for my nail polish.

I like to describe myself as a resourceful woman. I like to think of myself as a girl who can handle her own. I like to think of myself in this manner but the truth of it is: I am High Maintenance. If I had any doubts of this before, Hurricane Ike has proven this ten-fold.

Being High Maintenance, as most women know, is the cardinal sin. Men HATE high maintenance women. Other women HATE high maintenance women. I HATE High Maintenance women. Whether or not I like it, I am high maintenance. I guess that is why I sometimes hate myself.

Trudging around the front yard of my soon-to-be in laws, dressed in my most unflattering black shorts with the lovely bleach stains, my merely practical tank top and flip flops while I pick up fallen limbs and astrewn leaf debris, I look to my new French manicure and let out a silent cry. While so many are complaining that the drinking water is unsafe and that there is no power to keep foods cool and safe for consumption, I am wincing because I will not be able to plug in my straightner for who knows how long. When others are trying to pack up a few essentials to make it through the week, I want to find a place for my light-up vanity mirror with the ten times zoom that shows every imperfection and helps me to pluck those unruly eyebrows that my father so kindly passed my way through his DNA. I am a prima donna but I am generally more likely to deny that fact.

Hurricane Ike has tested me in ways that you will not hear on the news. Sure, I have all the discomforts of no power, little water and the extra helping of no air conditioner in September in Houston, Texas. Yes, I am looking forward to return of power. Yes, I want so badly to have suitable water from the taps for drinking, tooth-brushing and toilet-flushing which we here in Houston are severely lacking. Yes, I am ever thankful that Ike did not do damage to my home, my vehicles, and to the homes and vehicles of my friends, family and co-workers. Yes, Ike caused some real chaos for so many families and my heart goes out to each and every one of them. Yes, I truly feel blessed that I was spared such tragedies as seen on the news every hour on the hour.

As true as all those things are, I am also looking forward to the return to regular life so that I can deep condition my hair, plug in my straightner, use my light-up mirror with the ridiculously close zoom and satisfy the high maintenance chick that is stuck underneath all of this pony-tailed, no make-up’d, flip-flopped mess.

Ike, you Bastard, please go away, allow the power company time to restore the power, give the water company time to make the water safe again and on your way out, please make me an appointment with my manicurist. It is defintely time for a new set of nails.


Cupcakes, Untruths and Silly, Silly Girls

“I am eating this cupcake on Thursday night, so it won’t make me gain any weight.”

Yes, you might want to re-read that statement. Read it a couple of times so that you can fully understand and empathize with my feelings at 9:18 PM on Thursday evening as I hear these words from one booth over. Read them again and if these words make sense to you, please let me know. You might just need professional help. Keep reading »


Colorless

Colorless was my world
Devoid of light, devoid of spirit
Just shades of grey that suffocate
The soul as it yearns to shine
Colorless was my world
Even the anger had lost its crimson
The envy no longer like jade
As I drank up the darkness like wine
Colorless was my world
The pain just shades of black
All else a void of pure white
That turned to gray as the two align
Colorless was my world
Until my eyes were opened
Just as I chose to peak and see
That day I crossed the line
Colorless was my world
Before I broke the rules
Rebellion my newest friend
A painter with a wild brush
That finally brought an end to mine
Mine colorless world


Too Far Gone

Got bright-eyes ladies, with white veneered teeth
Pouting and preening, staring back on my TV
Telling me sad stories, some horrible tragedies
With their smiles and their winks and false sincerity
There’re loud-mouthed sons with their trust accounts
Trying to prove innocence with screams and shouts
Hiding their money in some Swiss bank account
Along with wives and children they forgot about
Plastic surgery and cheating stars fill my screen
Along with the dead body of that young teen
Who was something at first to simply disregard
Until she was found in my neighbor’s backyard
Some teenager’s famous for being a whore
Some schmucks got a band, and he’s talking ‘bout war
That teenager gets her own show on Saturday night
The schmuck’s cute, he’s dumb, he’s a star overnight
Elephants and jackasses think they have the answer
They can protect the Earth and they can cure cancer
The white man, the black man, which one should we choose
Seems like they’re the same monkey dressed in different hues
This mayor is a scoundrel, that one’s a bastard
This governor found Jesus, that one got plastered
Soccer moms in their SUVs are polluting the air
The youth are convinced they’ll be an internet millionaire
Politicians and leaders no longer have credibility
Honor and courage have been replaced with stupidity
Babies are born and left in the trash
Thirteen-year-olds sell themselves for quick cash
The world is on a fast train headed for hell
While our heroes are ball players who cannot spell
The girl next door stars in amateur porn
But on Sundays she swears that she is reborn
My doctor can never remember my name
Still pissed she missed her fifteen minutes of fame
Some priest has again molested a child
Another rapist let out to go roaming wild
A celebutant has finally gotten her strike three
But paid off the cops so she could party in Miami
We used to know what, we used to know how
We knew what was good, what we would allow
Now we’re enchanted by assholes and pricks
Who speak with their wallets and think with their dicks
I wonder how long it will take for us to awaken
And right all the wrongs, correct the mistaken
But maybe were too lazy, too fat, too far gone
To see that there is even anything wrong


Barbara Jean

In 1934, a wild and rare force was unleashed on this unworthy world. With her, she brought a bold and relentless spirit that was at once difficult to hold and magical to behold. She was like fire, tempting, frightening, warming and all-consuming. She was larger than life with all that energy captured in the most delicate of frames. She was a princess, a lovely courtesan with a dark streak somewhere hidden underneath all that lace and sparkle. She was the first introduction I had to real, unquestioning beauty. She was at once who I wanted to become and a person whom I feared. She was reckless, she was curious, she was kind, she was compassionate, she was moody, and she was lovely. She was my aunt Barbara Jean, the Beauty Queen.

Keep reading »


Reinvention

Just a small town girl with a slight accent
Who took a bold chance to try to reinvent
She left her home of the swamps and mosquitoes
For a new life with hats, boots, and burritos
She traded her single bed in for a king
Made room on her left hand for a lovely ring
She traded nights out dancing and cavorting
For a handsome man who had come a courting
And with that man, came a lovely girl and boy
Who brought with them an indescribable joy
Together these three helped to make the girl whole
While warming that place in her heart that was cold
This new life has taken her so far from home
And showed her what beauty is found when you roam
Though the road back home can at times call her name
She knows that old life would never be the same
Love has found her and happiness fills her days
Taking the place of old sadness and malaise
Now this small town girl still has that slight accent
That’s the one thing she will not reinvent


House on the Hill

I am a tiny house sitting alone on a hill
Meek and silent, just sitting very still
I sit alone in summer and alone in spring
I am the same in winter as fall has changed nothing
Some days bring my companion as he disrupts the air
My loneliness is lifted as we revive our affair
My lover is a storm that rages at my door
With violent thunder crashes never heard before
He rains, howls, hisses infrequently each year
Shaking shutters and shingles, fills my house with fear
My tiny house stands strong, battling with his wind
I am fierce enough to stand until his storm ends
Then my lover leaves and again I am alone
A tiny house on a hill, a house made of stone


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