'Coz Someday, Somebody Might Wonder...

This will likely be a series of posts, because there is a lot of stuff I want to write about - the history of Spoiled Rottenweilers, music, family, etc... mostly unrelated topics, but each a part of my life.
When my mom died, I never realized til it was too late how many stories about her life were left half-finished, stories about her running off to CA in her teens, what all she did there, her marriage to my Dad, her early childhood, I have all these fragments but no way to put any of them together - and it makes me sad that so much of her history was lost because I was too young, she was too busy, then I was too busy, then she was too sick, and then.... she was gone. I don't want that to be how it is with my daughter, or sister, or grandbaby, or anyone. So I have decided to use my little platform here to make sure they have more than fragments to cry over with regret if time runs out. After all, we all lead lives, have families, jobs, responsibilities, and all that normal-life stuff & our conversations usually focus mostly on the present. 
Of course, as I have proclaimed since the day I wrote my first blog post,
"(And) I Don't Care Who Knows It" means exactly that- this is not personal, or private, if you are bored or just curious, feel free to see what I have to say- hell some of it I know will be pretty interesting even to a stranger.
Just wanted to give anyone who cares a little heads-up - probably be seeing more notifications from me here than usual.
It took longer than I would have thought to actual get started but, here we go.

Mid-Late 70's (little kid yrs)
In my head tonight -- this long tale is a bit on the personal side, but I warned ya it would be that way sometimes. And I don't want to sound like a whiny brat, I am just remembering -to the best of my ability, almost half a century later- some of the insanity of my formative years in that crazy era.
When my parents divorced, it was around 1975. I was 8 that year, my little brothers were 4 & 2. I didn't know any other kids with divorced parents, not then- or for quite a few years after. What I did know was that we no longer lived in the beautiful 2-story house on a lake in Georgia, with our parents - nope, we now lived in a one-bedroom cabin in Florida at my Aunt & Uncle's fish camp. All four of us, one bedroom. My Aunt and Mom were sisters. Momma had returned home, but no prodigal daughter was she. She came with 3 spoiled kids (I admit it, but it was she who did it) who didn't quite know if we were in the middle of an adventure or a disaster. Both my mom's sisters still lived in the small rural county she was born and raised in, still married to their husbands - all our cousins were significantly older than us (high school (at the least) to my 4th grade) and established by the names of their fathers in ways my brothers and I would never get the chance to be. My grandmother also still lived there, but she was on hubby 3 or maybe 4, by the time we got there. That first year, all my teachers, from the moment they learned "who I was" (which meant, who I was related to, of course)  dubbed me "Little C***** M*****" after my poised, perfect, perky, & pretty majorette older cousin - who, in reality, I didn't resemble much at all, in looks, or personality, or really anything! But I did learn to twirl a baton pretty quick - she was GOOD and she was a good teacher, and I wanted so badly to be like her, to fit in so perfectly, like she did. See, back in Georgia, I had tap, ballet, music lessons, the works, but down in Florida, money was scarce and Cousin C let me join her classes and march in the parades wearing her mini-majorette uniform for free. So baton it was to be. And I loved it. I even grew to love being nicknamed Little C***** - for a while at least. It gave me a sense of place and belonging in a world I was thrust in to.
But it didn't take long to get hit with one of the first hard truths of my childhood - poor kids with no dad & small towns don't mix too well. Cousin C graduated high school & left for college (of course) so there were no more parades, baton lessons, fitting in by holding on to her coat-tails. I was suddenly...just...me. And my dad was... who? some invisible dude from Georgia who had already remarried & cut his only 3 kids out of his life like loose strings on a jacket. He quit paying child support before the ink had even dried on the court order, and back then out of state might as well have been out of this galaxy. Nobody cared. Mom struggled and did her best, but extras were just not available, unless they were free. (Like our lunches, and our hand-me-down clothes) And speaking of hand-me-down clothes, you are gonna LOVE this little side-story...
It would have been totally amazing - had there been fewer years between my cousins and I - at least in terms of those hand-me-downs. BUT, by the time it mattered in a sense of social only teens can understand - they were off living adult lives, those clothes were long-since handed to someone else, and so, MY wardrobe came from... My grandmothers closest friend & neighbor... An Oriental woman, old enough to be my grandmother - who was the same height as me, at least my 6th grade year. BUT height was the only place we were equal. Her waist was several inches bigger than mine, and yet her bra size (in terms of inches, that is) was several inches larger than mine, too - but her cup size was significantly smaller. So nothing ever fit right, no matter what. I looked like some kind of freak-show as I began middle school - the years when this kind of stuff really starts to matter. Doomed. Seriously.
Since I had not yet grasped the situation I was in, I foolishly tried out for cheerleading that first year of junior high, and somehow my lack of local pedigree had not yet caught on - because I made the squad. I deserved to. I was GOOD -but like I said, I was still naive, I thought good was all it took. Not my cousin's squad, so uniforms had price tags, and were mandatory. Camp was mandatory (only a week (or was it 2)?) didn't matter, what is was NOT was free. And no way was that kind of thing in the budget. But I had made the squad & I was terrified that, if I had to quit because of MONEY, I would forever be doomed to a status lower than anyone in history. (teen age angst and drama, Lord help us all, sadly funny - but still sad)
So, I begged my mom for the chance to earn the money, and she agreed. In summer months, she always worked the fields- picking bell peppers, cukes, whatever was available- and she got me a spot doing the same. I was almost 12, and only good for about half-a-day, but I picked my little heart out, and credit to those who made the decisions, I got paid for every single hour I worked that summer, the same amount everybody else on our "crew" got paid. Usually after lunch, this girl could be found under a tree somewhere snoring - but half a day was enough to not only pay for camp, and my uniforms, but even to buy some clothes that fit both physically and in terms of style. I just knew I was going to love this year, and all the years to follow! Silly, silly foolish girl. I came so close...
First of all, I never thought (and no one ever dropped a hint) about getting to and from the games. We were expected to have someone - a parent, whatever to get us there. That year, my mom was in West Palm Beach (don't ask please, let me just say "loony bin" and please just let it go). My grandma already thought that the whole thing was getting "way out of hand" (my cheerleading, center of attention, selfishness that was) and in fact, not one blood relative of mine ever came to a single game to see me cheer. My step-grandfather did, though, oh, yeah. and not just to watch me cheer, but so I could enjoy the privilege of getting to sit on his lap and learn to drive on the way to and from those games. Yeah, gross. And yet, no one ever once said
"Inappropriate" back then. NOBODY.
What that did, in effect, was cause me to dread every game, and hate being a cheerleader, and further isolate me from every single person - boy or girl - I might otherwise have developed any relationship with. I knew how screwed up it was, but that kind of stuff, well, you didn't talk about back then. Trust me, I know - and I got to learn why first-hand.
I already had made an error in judgement that was disastrous- I didn't budget for bras when I was buying my school clothes with the money I worked so hard for. Honestly, it never crossed my mind, I hadn't been wearing them that long at that point, and by the time I realized, the money had been spent. Imagine, too lose around and too tight in the cup, what an odd sight my pre-teen breasts were to my classmates in the bleachers, on the field, their families, my teachers, the world... No one ELSE'S breasts looked so odd and so off, so naturally, the only possible reason HAD to be that I STUFFED MY BRA! Of COURSE that HAD to be it! So, now I get to be molested to and from every game by the perverted pedophile my grandma married, cotton balls thrown at me in the bathrooms, on the bus to and from school, in class, it's a wonder I didn't just disappear. But survival was in my blood and the worse it got, the more outrageous I became. After that first year, I decided I was "done cheering" (knowing that they would never vote me on the squad again, saving myself that humiliation, at least). I got suspended from the bus for pulling shirt and odd-fit bra up and flashing everybody - yelling YEAH I DO STUFF MY BRA, BUT I STUFF IT WITH SKIN! That stunt got me a week off the bus (but yet all those flying cotton balls and catcalls of "STUFFER" never got anyone punished - not once)_- that was when I started ripping my clothes on purpose and learning all the words to every song by Heart, Pat Benatar, Stevie Nicks, Quarterflash, etc... and singing in to my hairbrush in front of the mirror preparing for a rock-n-roll lead singer life that would leave this small town full of small minds in the dust. That was when I told my grandmother, aunts, cousins, and mom about "grampa" and his "driving lessons" - my grandma actually called me a liar, said I "asked for it" basically, and continued to do so even after more than one of my older cousins said he also did the same to them when they were my age. Yeah, STOP right there. I had cousins and Aunts who KNEW what this sob was likely to do to me, and just turned away and LET IT HAPPEN TO ME. How screwed up is YOUR family? Bet not many of my age group can top this family o' mine.
And better yet, when I told my mother, she checked herself out of the loony bin, came and scooped me and brothers up and whisked us off to west palm, FREE AT LAST, PARADISE FOR REAL. Only to crack up again a couple of short months later, and thanks to me and my big mouth, going back to grandma's was not an option. so we got put in foster homes (separated from each other) - and believe it or not, my "foster parents" were all about education- educating young girls on how to properly perform blowjobs, especially. Wifey taught, her hubby was the "practice dummy" - and did I ever tell? FUCK NO. I'd already seen what doing THAT could get you. Funny end-note on that, can you believe that I recently saw wifey's picture on Facebook? Close to 40 years later, hell I am older now than she probably was then, and looking at some random friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend's page and her face pops out at me, and it's really HER! What would YOU do in this position? Guess what, I am not telling what I did. Think what you will.
Anyway, that is where I close this bit of ancient history. Told ya it was gonna be random, if I didn't tell ya it might be a bit odd, you either should have already known that, or you don't know me at all. :) Hopefully more cheerful stuff next time, but no guarantees. Gotta love the use of the word "cheer-ful" right?

8000 Lines - Lyric Video - Blacktop Mojo

Did this one as a special request for Shawn A Victory, Mojo Nation's "Mojo Mama" - I hope she likes it, and everyone else does as well.

Shadows on the Wall

My lyric video for Blacktop Mojo's "Shadows on the Wall" (from Burn the Ships)

Prodigal - Lyric Video - Blacktop Mojo

My latest lyric video for Blacktop Mojo's song "Prodigal" from the album Burn the Ships

"Music & Me & Me & Music"

(& Blacktop Mojo)

Music has been my passion for as long as I can remember. My earliest memories all start somewhere in the midst of Pink Floyd, The Alan Parsons Project, & Elton John - some of my Mom's favorites in the 70's - it was like I didn't really exist before that, or maybe I was just waiting for the right sound to reach my ears... 

That "right sound" is rock & roll, and it always has been. And the words... oh, God the words... I used to play records & cassette tapes over & over again, lifting that needle and backing up, pressing stop & rewinding, to make absolutely sure of the lyrics (pre-Internet, that's what we had) so I wouldn't sing a single part wrong - and I sang. Out loud, even when my Mom ridiculed me for it, in front of the mirror with my round hairbrush - getting ready for the day when my star would finally shine... The soundtrack of my life became larger & longer & LOUDER as I listened to albums in their entirety & found the songs that deserved airplay but never got it, songs that spoke what I was feeling & going through that most people never even heard - if I couldn't be the master of my own destiny, I would at least control the music that played in the background. 

Needless to say, my star never did shine in the music world, but I never once let go of that dream that someday it just might... 

 I sang in the Jazz Band in high school (South Sumter, Class of '85) - the Scorpions, Def Leppard, Stevie Nicks. Yep, that's right.

I sang to my kids - all the time. (the two most prominent songs being Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Simple Man", for my son - Boston's "Amanda" for my daughter who carries the name of that tune)

Guns & Roses, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, Metallica, Oasis, Matchbox 20, The Nixons, - just a little piece of a list as long as the years that marched on. And through it all, I sang. 

I sang with a band that never really got off it's feet, I sang Karaoke in bars where nobody was really listening, I sang in church choir, I sang & I sang & I sing to this day. 

I held on to the music of my memories, but I kept the door open for new bands & new songs to come on in. Always rock & roll, though. The exceptions to that rule are few & far between.

Seether came along & knocked me for a loop - & Breaking Benjamin, Shinedown, Staind, Daughtry, Theory of a Deadman all followed suit. So many songs to play, so many songs to sing & I sing them all.

The Internet opened up a window to bands I might never have heard of otherwise, and I plunged in, finding Plan Three, Starset, My Darkest Days, Like a Storm, Adelita's Way, Stealing Eden, etc... and etc... and etc... 

My husband learned to gauge my mood by the music - or tried. He once walked in as I sang one of my favorite sad songs, & listening, he assumed that I was upset or sad about something, & asked me what was wrong - I was puzzled when I told him nothing was wrong - then realized that he thought the song defined the mood. I let him in on the secret that day, that no matter what song I happen to be singing, no matter how sad, when I am singing, I am happy. And it should be said, as a testament to him and what we have been building for two decades now - just how much I love him, that I am almost always singing. I love you Joe. 

It's when I get quiet that folks should worry. And most of the time, I am singing. (Did I say I love you, Joe? Oh, well, I am gonna say it again)

Times where I can't listen to music are hard for me. I get anxious and irritable when I can't hear my life's soundtrack in the background. After all, I am not here for the movie, I'm here for the music. The movie is gonna go however it was meant to go - but I get to orchestrate the tune(s) & I fully intend to make sure THIS soundtrack is freaking awesome.

 I have mourned the loss of musicians like they were my best and closest friends. I remember the first one that REALLY hit me hard way back in high school- Randy Rhoads, guitarist for Ozzy. I heard the news and for a moment, the music stopped playing and time stood completely still. Later, Layne Staley (AIC), Scott Weiland (STP), Chris Cornell (Soundgarden, Audioslave, Temple of the Dog), Chester Bennington (Lincoln Park), Tom Petty & Prince (to name a few) left holes that caused actual, physical pain - holes that can be patched over with the music they left behind, but will never be truly filled because of the songs of the future that will never be heard.

YouTube brought the chance to share lyric videos that one could create (thanks so much Microsoft for Power Point & my college prof, Christine Naylor for teaching me how powerful a slide show could be, especially when it's converted to video) and insert their own input through a choice of visuals, transitions, and animations.

Plan Three's "Be Still My Heart"  hit me at an extreme low point, as my life momentarily turned upside-down & I feared I would lose everything, most importantly myself, and the resulting lyric video (which was not released as it was originally created due to some technical issues) laid my state-of-mind (& state-of-heart) open for all to see. The final product still echoes of the turmoil I was feeling at the time, and still brings tears to my eyes even years later.

My youngest brother, Jason, another musician who deserves far more recognition than he has received, wrote & recorded the song "Fragile" - and my decision to create the lyric video for that one made it possible for us to find each other, after years and years of not knowing. His entire CD, "Releasing Endorphins" is full of wonderful music, but "Fragile" was my ultimate favorite. He has the talent with instruments and mixing that I never acquired, my voice is all I have to offer other than interpreting other's songs into words and images on screen so EVERYONE has the chance to sing along & get the words right. 

 Not long ago, my best friend, Melody came at me in a state of extreme excitement (she and I share our passion for music, especially new music and bands) telling me I had to stop everything immediately & listen to this song... Song in question turned out to be "Underneath" by Blacktop Mojo - a band from Texas, who, just a few years into their own musical journey, has hit the ground running with an awesome metal feel to Southern Rock that outshines even Molly Hatchet & Blackfoot - 2 of the greatest Southern Rock bands ever created. And one song was all it took, I was hooked.

"Underneath" resonates with the pain and rawness of a shattered heart that rips you open & that is something I absolutely love in a song. But it was "I Will Ramble On" which transitions from that hurt to the anger that follows that spoke to me the loudest. And that was the lyric video I did first. It left me unsatisfied at the end, technical difficulties abounded in the transition from slide-show to video, and although I went ahead and did the upload, I feel it was rushed and not the great video it (and I) wanted. A few days later, in the wee hours of the morning, "Underneath" spoke to my heart and asked for it's turn, and in less than 3 hours, a video was uploaded that verges right on the edge of perfection. My videos are mere shadows of the songs that they are created for, the songs provide the light and substance that give my 'shadows' the chance to exist.

Nothing is worse than the tortured pain of an artist unheard or unseen, these videos serve to ease some of that pain in me, & at the same time, open a small window for other people to "discover" the songs & bands that have inspired me.

I don't do mine randomly, I listen for the voices that speak directly to my heart, so I don't produce near as many as a lot of others out there, but I have already realized that Blacktop Mojo is going to play a large part in the ones I do produce. They are speaking to my heart song after song after song. And make no mistake, these guys are gonna be HUGE in the music industry, and in the very near future. I guarantee it.

The high point of my day today, and the reason for this blog started last night - I have been rolling the ideas for my next video (for their song "Back Home") around in my head, and I had a slight but crucial issue with the lyrics in the very first line of the first verse, nothing big, relatively speaking, is there, or is there not an "a" between two of the other words? But the presence (or not) of that "a" had me stuck and spinning my wheels but not going anywhere... so, not really expecting a reply, I fired a shot in the dark to the band themselves, asking for clarification - shut down my computer and went off to bed... 

This morning, I woke to find that they had ACTUALLY ANSWERED ME - clarified the lyrics and responded to my fear that they might possibly be offended or upset about my turning their music in to the lyric videos (some artists do, you know, they see it as a poaching of a sort) with the response that they think my vids are COOL - so they actually know my videos exist, they have seen them, and were kind enough to provide me with the assistance I was seeking to be able to continue on to the next one. 

I am blown away that these guys (did I mention they are gonna be HUGE??) took the time to answer little ol' me - & offer me encouragement in the process.

I get to go see Blacktop Mojo on May 19th of this year (2018) for the first time live - with my husband who always encourages me (and tolerates the playing of a song over and over til I feel I've gotten it right), my BF Melody, who is responsible for bringing this awesome band to my attention (and her boyfriend), and Christy, (who's an acquaintance on the fast-track to becoming a true, real friend) & (possibly) her ex-not-ex Chad, who is a friend of my hubby's and a part of Christy's life that reminds me of mine & Joe's own story, back in it's earlier years - definitely unfinished business to say the least... 

This will be Christy's first concert EVER. Yeah, I can see already that Blacktop Mojo is gonna be a significant part of the soundtrack of this LONG movie that is my life. And damn, I am glad of THAT. Thanks guys, for your music, for keeping it real as you grow, for everything. 

And as the big day approaches, only 4 days til we get our Mojo on LIVE, I have added Prodigal - Shadows on the Wall - & just this morning, 8000 Miles let me say this one more time to make sure y'all hear me - THIS BAND IS GONNA BE HUGE! CHECK THEM OUT!!

Underneath- Lyrics - Blacktop Mojo

Now THIS one really turned out great!

Blacktop Mojo - I Will Ramble On (Lyric Video)

Personally, I have a few issues with my timing in this one, it was a problem in the transition from slide show to video, which I am trying to work out, & I would like to re-do it soon with more effects, transitions, etc.. -- but the song is BEYOND fantastic, and I couldn't wait to get the lyric video out there... Check it out here

Finding Ben Stiller

It was a game we used to play- LONG story, but in short, one of us would hide a photo of Ben Stiller somewhere where the other one would unexpectedly find it. She grew up, moved out of state and has a family of her own now- but this year when I went to mail the Christmas package, I thought of our game & got so tickled at the thought of her reaction if I sent her Ben Stiller, so I got her BF and his brother in on it, and was able to capture this video- her reaction was all the Christmas present I could have wanted,Some things are worth sharing, even the silly ones. I Love You my beautiful daughter, I needed to laugh like that, thanks for being YOU

On Respect & Pride and the Despicable Actions of the Ravens, Jaguars. Their Owners & Supporters

Dammit, just what I didn't need - something political to get pissed off over and start me ranting -- The display by the NFL "kneelers" was absolutely intolerable & despicable.

When I am in the privacy of MY OWN HOME and the anthem plays - even if I am the ONLY PERSON HERE I stop what I am doing and 

STAND FOR THE PLAYING OF "OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM" 

It doesn't matter that no one can see me, it is because I am PROUD to be a small piece of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - because I respect the soldiers who fought and died for us, & I respect the flag that represents us. I do it to HONOR our nation. 

"America - Love it or Leave it"

does anyone else remember that phrase? I grew up with it, I agree with it wholeheartedly.
These players showed the entire WORLD that we are not a UNITED nation, but a DIVIDED one, tearing itself to pieces from the INSIDE - it says to the world - "Just sit back, watch & wait - they (the USA) are easy prey" - a potentially dangerous face to present to a world that would LOVE to see us fall - because they have for so long envied us our freedoms, our strength, our prosperity & our temerity.
Shame on you - every last one of you - the players and management who support them, the fans who are cheering them for their disrespectful display - "America - LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT" - can you say "Bye Felicia" & start packing?? I SINCERELY HOPE SO!

At this point, I had thought I was finished, but then proceeded to read a statement by the owner of the jagu-offs (oops) jaguars- excerpts and my reactions to his "statement".

I saw this:

And immediately thought...
One of the most moronic statements I have ever heard -- & that is saying a LOT
Scene: An event being televised WORLDWIDE - 
Some standing in Honor & Respect, others kneeling to protest the display of Honor & Respect - exactly how is this supposed to signify unity or even potential unity? Is this guy for REAL??

Sadly it got worse...

He also said...

 "Our team and the National Football League reflects our nation, with diversity coming in many forms – race, faith, our views and our goals" 

Do you see where he says they REFLECT OUR NATION?!!? If this is what he or they think is a proper reflection of our nation, I for one say:
 You know what, you jag-ass? Take your reflection and stick it where it can't reflect on anyone else!
 OUR GOALS? To disrespect "OUR NATION" to the whole world? I don't know who the hell the WE & OUR is he refers to, but I damn sure am not one of them. Screw you jaguars, ravens, and anybody else who sees this as the PROPER way to "REFLECT OUR NATION" PLEASE go reflect someone ELSE'S nation with that mess.

Empty Your Trash Can!

Gonna tell a little story, some may find relevance in it to apply to their own lives or to the larger world in general, some may not. Either way...

My husband and I have 4 grown kids between us - for the most part, we see them a couple of times a year, or less - they are busy living their lives, as grown children are generally expected to do.

All, that is, except for one-

The one, we can just about expect to see him show up on the doorstep every few months- out of options yet again...

And this one is the most bitter person I have ever met. He carries a chip on his shoulder so big it is a wonder the sun ever shines on him. He has a list of grievances dating back to his earliest memories, a finger to point in every direction imaginable for every single wrong (real or imagined) that he thinks was done to him, and a finger in every direction for why he is back "this time" (every time) & not one time has that finger ever pointed to himself.
Not...once...EVER.

He carries a sense of entitlement that has no business being there- we taught all of our kids from early on that what you want in life you have to earn - but this one thinks that it's all supposed to just fall in his lap without having to put forth the slightest effort- because, he thinks, of all those past wrongs & grievances done to him...

Now my husband is not the most profound person in the world, at least not when it comes to practical advice - his approach is more along the lines of "Walk it off" or "Rub some dirt on it" (LOL) but a few months back when this (in his own eyes) poor, maligned soul was back for yet another pity party I walked in on a conversation that struck me because it was so unlike my husband and his usual gruff "get over it" manner. And because of that difference, the conversation has echoed in my head many times and I have started to see it as applicable to a LOT of issues & situations - so today I am going to share what he had to say.

In an attempt to get to the core of this young man's unhappiness my husband asked him to remember a time when he WAS happy - in response, he began his usual litany of what his co-workers, friends, brothers, strangers, & myself & my husband had done over the years to "ruin his life" & somewhere in the midst of all that blaming my husband said:
"Your problem is that you are carrying your past around in a trash can, son. You have been for years, & that trash can is filled to overflowing - has been for a long time. As long as you are carrying that can with you, you will never be happy. There is not any room to throw in one more scrap of bitterness or anger or blame, & at the same time there is no room around you for anything good. You are carrying the weight & the stench of all that garbage and people can see & smell it in the way you can smell an overflowing dumpster from down the street, and it turns them away. Sit that can down, dump it out, hell burn the damn thing & once all that garbage is gone, you will see your life get better."

To say my jaw hit the floor would be an understatement, I was awed by the simplicity of his words and how accurately those words summed up this young man's situation. So much so that I myself took a long hard look at my own trash can & gave it a good thorough dump-&-cleaning. So much so that I have begun applying it to the world around me, in just about everything from political differences, religious disputes, racial disputes, family disputes, you name it!
Genius emerges from simplicity!

Think of all the unhealed wounds that continue to fester is because of the echoes of the past. Get rid of it, I say! Yes, it is important to learn from history - but it is detrimental to continue to blame the past wrongs for a present situation - especially when those wrongs date so far back in time that there is not a living soul left who experienced them. Watch your life - your entire world - get better! What have you got to lose? After all, you only get one life, why waste it being bitter and angry about something that you have no control over, or that happened long ago?

Needless to say, this son of ours was too stubborn to follow this sound advice. In fact, in less than a year since the conversation took place, he has been back twice - I guess some people are determined to hold on to everything until the department of (mental) health comes in and condemns the area or until their walls cave in under the weight of all that garbage... hard for me to comprehend how anyone would rather be miserable and spend their precious time - and life is precious, as I said earlier, you only get one - trying to suck the happiness out of the lives of others to compensate for whatever they think was done to them, instead of finding some well-earned happiness all their own. I'm not saying that it will work for everyone. But those who sincerely try, I think will be well-rewarded. 

Karen Register
2017 - Sep - 12
https://spoiledrottenweilers.blogspot.com