“To Stand Alone Again”
Posted on March 28th, 2011 @ 8:35 pm

Wasn’t I a cute 4 year old? I wasn’t just cute, but I could be a terror, too.

After seeing a Facebook posting mentioning Randy Goodrum yesterday, and having this stuck in the back of my mind for a while, only fitting I mention it now that it’s swirling in my brain.

I have always been an overly sensitive person. I remember my mother took me to see Bambi during its 1982 theatrical run. She thought that I would be a well behaved child.  I was always the quiet, laid back child.  Nicki was the wild one. So, Nicki stayed home with Daddy and I went to see Bambi.  My mother didn’t learn until years why the Bambi showing was a horrible experience.

“Your mother can’t be with you anymore.”

Oh my goodness! Some of the worst lines a little child could hear! And yes, as soon as I heard that line at age 3, I knew what it meant. I was out of the seat running up the corridor trying to leave the theater. My mother kept spanking me, and forced me to watch the end of the movie.  I just know after that scene, I have never watched that movie again.

When I was a teen, when the VHS cassette came out, and my mother got it for my younger siblings, my mother mentioned what I brat I was in the theater. I asked her to remember where in the film I started acting up at.  Only then did it hit her I knew the truth of Bambi’s mother.   She apologized about the misunderstanding.  She didn’t realize I would be able to understand.

From that day until she died, Bambi became a family joke.

In addition to the Bambi freakout, I would have panic attacks due to “You Needed Me.”  Performed by Anne Murray, it was written by Randy Goodrum. I would lock myself in my room just so I wouldn’t have to hear my mother play and sing that song on the piano. She loved that song. I found the lyrics sad then. I’d cry when I’d hear the song. My mother would have to hold me to calm me down over that song. I went that wild over that song. My mother would try to tell me it was a happy song, but I would have none of it. Finally, she learned not to play it around me or tell me to go to my room.

As I got older, I just learn to not listen her play it.

However, I will listen to it now.  Just prior to my college graduation, I downloaded the song and forced myself to listen to it.  To this day, I still cry.  Yet now, I don’t think those tears are the panic attack tears of my youth.  I think they are tears of love and  understanding.

Funny what nearly 30 years does to a person.  I miss my mother every day.  All I have left are these memories in an attempt to make myself stronger.

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Family · Life

Wilted Flower
Posted on March 28th, 2011 @ 7:38 pm

How did you let yourself get this way?
Being controlled by the petty things the world says.
You’re too afraid to climb.
You’re too afraid to fall.
Your greatest wish is to just sometimes disappear.
So no one can see the failure you’ve become.

People tell you not to let the small stuff get in the way.
It’s all small stuff some say.
Well if it’s all small and not important,
Then how come it’s running you into the ground?
You feel like a failure.
At what? Total Life.

You never feel attractive enough.
You never feel smart enough.
You feel as if you’ll never find love
Or hell yet, a friend.
Damn you my heart!
You must you let me be this way?

I just want to succeed, what ever that means.
Is it so wrong to want to be wanted and needed?
But too afraid to try for fear you’ll fail.
You’ve seen it all before.
Too many hearts and dreams being broken.
Life is just cruel.

Maybe one day life will be ok.
Maybe one day everything is worth the wait.
But sometimes you feel it’s too late.
The damage is done.
You never lived to other people’s expectations and dreams.
A wilted flower is all you’ll ever be.

Writer’s note:
Sometimes I just get into these moods and I starting yelling at myself for being what I am. Some days I just feel like a failure. Not only to myself but to other people, too. I know I’m probably not but I just have images implanted into my head saying other wise.

©1998-2011 S.A.L.

3/28/11 – I’ve been meaning to get my old poetry/prose pieces back up for a while. I found this one and decided to repost it. Many years ago, someone asked if they could use it as the lyrics of a song. I don’t know how that worked out. I wrote this piece when I was a depressed 19-year-old kid. I still feel these emotions some days, but they aren’t as bad and intense as they were as an insecure 19-year-old kid.

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Poetry and Prose

“We’re all victims of the system still we love to place the blame”
Posted on March 20th, 2011 @ 1:23 pm

Point the finger at the man you chose
He’ll say he’s sorry but it’s just the way it goes
He sits in judgment like a king on a throne
‘Till that November when he’ll beg for a bone

My recent obsession of all things Toto has in a way brought me back to my first musical love, Richard Marx. The spring/summer of 1992 was when I first became a fan of Richard. I was 13. I heard “Hazard,” and it haunted me. Then, I was starting to get into music, one of the first albums I wanted was Rush Street, since “Hazard” was on it. Imagine my shock when I first heard “Playing With Fire.” At my age, living a somewhat sheltered life, the line “Ain’t no law says a man can’t fantasize / There’s a secret locked up in you tight / Ooh, I’d love to turn the key, yeah” was very racy. 😆 Anyways, that track and about half the album have either Steve Lukather or Jeff Porcaro of Toto playing their signature sounds on it.

Track 6 on Rush Street is “Hands In Your Pocket.” Eighteen and a half years after I first listened to this song, it still resonates with me today. I was in 8th grade.  My father was just about to be/was deployed to Egypt for a year’s tour in the Multinational Force and Observers. I was angry.  Since 1988, I had my father off and on in my life.  He had been deployed to Korea for a year in 1988.  In 1990, he was one of the first men sent to Saudi Arabia as part of Operation Desert Shield/Storm.  So to put this in some perspective, my father wasn’t there for Christmas in 1988, 1990, and then again for 1992.

I took to glue to “Hands In Your Pocket.” 1992 was the year George H.W. Bush was up for re-election.  It felt like every time I turned around, he was deploying troops to this locale and that locale.  If I didn’t have my father home for Christmas, a friend’s father was off  Godknowsastan. And since he was president, I felt like it was all his fault.  I felt at the time if Bush was out of office, things in my life would get better.  I would quit seeing my father leave my family.

My 8th grade social studies class, U.S. history, had a project each quarter.  We were given a list of project and had to do one.  One project, since we were in the homestretch of Bill Clinton vs. Bush, was to make a campaign ad. It could be audio or visual.  And popped in my head was a silly radio ad featuring “Hands In Your Pocket” for it, specifically the line above.  Not quoted is the part of the second verse about “we fight our wars alone” and “they take such good care of the rest of the world.”  It, in a way, described how I felt.  Why was my father being sent to take care of the rest of the world? What about his family at home?  We needed him more that some kid in Korea or Egypt!

So, with all my feelings at the time, I made an election ad with the song.  I turned that in as my project.  The entire project consisted of a sample of my radio with the ad mixed in at commercial breaks.  The only problem my teacher has is that I didn’t overload the tape with the ad.  To be honest, the reason I didn’t is that I hate the sound of my voice, and back in 1992, when Kris Kross is the big thing, Richard Marx was embarrassing to admit to liking.  Using that song, to my 13-year-old brain was to admit I like Richard’s music.

But now, looking back to that time 18½ years later, I had no reason to be embarrassed for liking Richard. His music has been a stable force in my life that has provided some balance.  I can’t really blame George H.W. Bush for sending my father away.  Bush wasn’t president when my father went to Korea. The Kuwaitis did not deserve to have Iraq come in and attempt to destroy their lives. My dad was needed to provide the support needed keep the peace. My father chose to be in the army and him being away from home was always a possibility.  I can’t blame my father because he did what he thought was right.  He was an army brat himself and serving our nation was a way of life.

But back to the song that inspired this still rings true.  Be it Clinton, a Bush, or Obama in office, someone out there feels like the government is letting us down. Politicians on both side use and abuse us.  And we the people feel helpless. The feelings expressed by this song, disillusionment with government, will always be around.

Listening to: “Talk To Ya Later” – Richard Marx and Fee Waybill

Family · Life · Music · Politics & Current Events

I’m alive.
Posted on March 11th, 2011 @ 12:02 am

I’ve just been busy with work and spending some time vegging out at my place over the weekend.  However, I did celebrate Mardi Gras with my co-workers this week.

I have some things coming up this spring that will be fun.  I have tickets to a Braves vs. Cardinals game at end of April.  A week after that, I will be going to Rhode Island for a few days for a small vacation.  I’ve already purchase my plane ticket. I have to go now.

Once I get through the dreaded regression period at work, I shouldn’t be so worn.  Plus, daylight saving time will be in effect, so more sun and warmer weather.  I can’t wait.

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