Happy Birthday--Thank you, God.

Dear Hearts,

OMFG! Poltergeist: The Legacy (The Complete Series: Seasons 1-4, 1996-1999) has finally come out on DVD! 

How fucking cool is that!? 50 bucks. Hell, yes, I ordered it!  I have only been waiting for the series to come out on DVD SINCE 1999! I have the first two seasons and the movie—but now I have the complete set!

“Since the beginning of time mankind has existed between the world of light and the world of darkness. This journal chronicles the work of our secret society, known as The Legacy, created to protect the innocent from those creatures that inhabit the shadows and the night.”

Derek, Nick, Philip, Rachel, Alex, Kristen, Kat—we can be back together again!

Okay, had to get that out of the way. ‘Cuz it is one of those cult shows and I am a cult member. I was inspired to write my grad school application fiction excerpt by this series! And, during my first semester I worked on it. My story was terrible. I can’t believe they let me into grad school based on that shit. Really. I am not being self-denigrating. It was horrible.

But, that show—one of the best ever! I have the books, the script…

Oh, and also, I am employed!

Probably shoulda led with that, huh? But Poltergeist: The Legacy—all four seasons! I have waiting for years.

Yes, Burning Bed has officially offered me a job. Two days a week, Thursday and Friday, 1^st Shift at the Front Office.

I said YES!. Thursday is Pie Day and then Friday is Dr. Swede Day—but concessions will have to be made. I am entitled to an hour lunch—although I’ve never taken one. And, now with the big bucks rollin’ in, I can afford my own pie and coffee!

I like working there. I like working the front desk. I like being involved with Burning Bed. And, now I am on staff. I went from organizing the library, sorting out-dated soup cans, stuffing envelopes, pounding the pavement, and heavy lifting to First Contact. I am kinda proud of myself. Dad says I should be—that I did it all on my own. I guess I did. I gave them lots and lots of free hours of time. And, I don’t hafta volunteer Sundays anymore!

But, now I’ll be held accountable…Christ on a Cracker…let’s leave off the worrying. I have been doing the job and they hired me based my ability to do the job. The only difference on September 7 is that I will be wearing make-up and getting paid. And, have a little more confidence.

It sounds snotty. But, true. Of the Office Staff and even some of the general Staff—I have more education, experience, and…academic pedigree. Mom says they should be lucky. I don’t say that to brag—but I am qualified to do a helluva a lot more than pick lint off a basement floor. And, all of that education and experience—I fucking worked for it. I bled for it.

I don’t even really care about the money so much. I am slowly re-entering the world of the living. And it won’t be working for fucking Boss Lady who yells at me for going to the bathroom.

Oh, and I am now 40 years old.

40.

That dreaded age. Or age I dreaded.

I am not going to make this a long post. I gotta have time for my coffee and cigarettes! And, I’ll actually be smoking in the “Smoking Room,” because it is raining. Usually on July 14, it is motherfucking-Africa hot.

Except that one birthday that rain was predicted. We always went to The Park on my birthday—a skiing/kid’s amusement park. Very tame. This had to have been 30 or so years ago. Dad asked me if I wanted to go even though we might get rained out—or wait for another day. I decided to go and half-way through we did get rained out. On the way home we stopped at a toy store and I picked out a Barbie and accessories for my birthday gifts. Then, there was the year I got the Barbie store...I remember sitting on my bed (the rainy year) and playing with the new Barbie I got.

I can’t go back.

I can’t stop. I tried and it worked out badly.

I can only go forward.

I don’t feel as dreadful as I thought I would now that I am 40.

Don’t quote me on none of this.

I’m 40. My finances are a fuck-a-row. I am on disability and have PTSD. I am getting a fucking wolf tattoo and 12 floating feathers for the 12 Apostles. Why? Because I want to and tattoos are my thing. Between me and my Creator.  

Bugsy, next time you wanna be all contrary about tattoos and piercings—say it to my fucking face…pussy.

Sorry, Aunt Faerie.

And, I was just gonna say that now that I am 40—I am done apologizing. I am not sorry I smoke or like to sleep late or will only buy Calvin Klein jeans.

For the first fucking time in my post-child’s life, I am not doing anything that I don’t want to fucking do. I am being honest with myself. Bad Catholic? Eh, maybe. Whatever.

I have been knocked around and put through (still am going through) the crucible. I don’t have all the answers or all the questions

I coulda, shoulda done better, differently…but looking across the room in the mirror right now…I did my best. I really did. I did my best. I tried…

T. from Burning Bed just called and asked if I’d be around for a self defense class August 3. She’s had it rough. Way rougher than I.

Why? I don’t know. But, God isn’t keeping score and chipping away at our souls until we become the Davids he wants us to be. We have Free Will. And, God helps us stumble through that the best we can.

“Be good to yourself.”

“I’m being better…how’s that?”

I get it.

Besides, I don’t need no self-defense class. Palm strike to nose, punch to throat, and kick in the groin.

Or

Safety, trigger, rack, rack.

I can only go forward.

Knowing what I know now…

I am in a much better position to go forward than I have been in a long time.

And, I’m making the choice.

Cigarette and coffee time. Already wrote too much. Time! Yes, I slept a lot today. But I was up 20 hours yesterday.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

Grateful For:

Health

Family

Love

Angel

Faith

Poltergeist: The Legacy

Whipped-Cream Strawberry short cake

I want—

NO.

I am going to do it my way.

With alotta help from God and Family.

Thanks, God.

I know I am not out of The Wilderness yet. And, maybe two weeks from now I won’t believe this: I know there is a Spring, a Stream, a Well in The Wilderness. I just gotta keep going.

Last year on my birthday, I unequivocally did not want to be alive.

A new decade. A new start. I’ve been ploughed and tilled.

Yeah, the job is only two days a week. But, it’s a start. It’s a start. Last year, I wanted to be dead.

Here I am, Lord.

I think I may be okay with this 40 thing.

We just got back from dinner with Mom, Dad, and Gaia.

I looked in the mirror while I washing my hands. I am attractive at 40. Any guy should be lucky to have me on his arm. Not my tits, not my ass—my face and what my eyes reveal—My Soul. My True Colors. I may not feel like this in an hour. But, right now…I am beautiful.