DNA

I hate my brother. Actually, I despise and loath my brother. Hate is a word that is tossed about and used with such regularity that it can refer to a piece of lint on a sweater. This feeling is powerful and all-consuming.

I literally can not eat if he is in the same room with me. The noises he makes; lips smacking, gurgling, burping, moaning and his breathing! OH, the breathing is the worst of the bunch. How does one be that annoying performing the simple task of inhaling and exhaling. I can't stand to make eye contact with him. His ruemy, dull eyes. Ick. My stomach turns as I write this. Did I mention he pulls out his fake tooth and displays it prominently on the table? I looooove that part. I would like him to stop breathing, or perhaps he did sometime in the past and it's caused him brain damage. If that was the case, I could summon some sort of compassion for him, but as of now, he's just a hillbilly that I am stunned came from the same gene pool as me. The fact that I share DNA (along with other less-desirable members of my family) with someone that crawled out of the mud, hovers over me as a neverending reminder of the fine line that distinguishes humans. How does one rise above that?

I love to see the remnants of his visits. Pick a room, any room and you'll find a little piece of my brother, that he has so graciously left behind as a gift. I especially like the mouthwash in and around the bathroom sink. You know, the smelly green liquid that he has just spewed out of his vile mouth. Apparently rinsing the sink was never taught in heathen school. OH, did I just say school? Silly me, I believe he has attained the grand status of Grade Nine Graduate. We're so proud.

How could we possibly let this creature into our home? He has spawned. Bred. Fornicated and gifted us with a precious baby angel named Maya. She has very little good in her life and is loved by my family , so we must tolerate the father to get to the child. He is a lousy father. There. I've said it. He does love her, but he's a selfish, ignorant man, which is not ideal parental material. Ultimately, we'll continue to give her as much love, nurturing and guidance as we can when given the opportunity.

When he leaves my home, I'm always compelled to sanitize it thoroughly. I wander room to room, cleaning, arranging, lighting candles, anything to remove all traces of his being.

So for now, his physical presence has been removed, but the memory lingers.

D.

QUOTABLES

Well, it seems that all my blogger friends have been posting their favourite quotes. Who am I to sit idly by and not jump aboard, so here goes:

"I'm pretty, I'm not smart"

Chris Vomacka

"I get hit in the head alot"

Eric Gould

"I don't know - I drink alot"

Denise Ross

Now take your time to absorb the deeper meaning contained within these quotes (and then let me know when you find them).

D.

ITIS

Boys are yummy. They're strong and they're soft and they smell nice and they feel good (some can even converse - which is seriously considered a bonus, not a requirement). I'd forgotten that for awhile. How horribly unfortunate for me that I missed out on more than a month of lusting after boys and feeling the "itis".

Just this moment my senses returned to me. It was the tiniest thing that triggered their revival. Really, it was just a few words that I read. I welcome them back with all the enthusiasm I can muster. They were deeply missed and affectionately refered to in the past tense, as all hope had been lost.

Now I hold on to this feeling and hope beyond hope that they'll stay this time. I am sorely aware of what caused their initial flight. But what I don't know is how to make them stay. Stay tuned.

D.

SKYLARK

There once was a ragged old glider. Not old exactly, but somewhat worn and slightly tattered. It had never really been properly cared for - in fact, all of its accessories had not even been put to use. Well, this glider was discovered by someone who knew much of them and saw the great potential this one possessed. After some time and much TLC, it was deemed flyable. Suddenly, it had the ability to soar. Oh what a sight - high in the sky, graceful and pure, the azure sky and fluffy clouds as a backdrop. Proud and free for all to see. But. Who knew how delicate and fragile that glider was? One gust of wind - that's all it took for it become unstable. The ground came quickly, with nary a moment of hesitation. No one saw it coming. But sadly, the end didn't even come in a blaze of glory. No, it was merely a thud, a poof of dust and the crumpled remains.

Welcome to my 40's.

D.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

A friend of mine asked "What can you DO at 40?" Well I am now in a position, 18 days into my 40's, to declare to all who care to know..........nothing, absolutely nothing. In fact, if you're approaching 40 - do yourself a favour and kill yourself now. Short term pain for long term gain. Isn't that the phrase work-out junkies use? Mind you, they're all hopped up on endorphins - you can't really trust them.

Mind confused, memory shot, don't even get me started on my so-called temple. This twisted cruel joke called mid-life. Thanks, but no thanks. A return to 39 is not only greatly desired, but possibly required unless I care to add prescription drugs to my growing list of crutches.

I need a nap.

D.

PILLOWTALK

I woke in an introspective mood today. The light pouring through my window speaks of a dreary day. My bed, with all of it's lovely goose down comfort, is a far more desirable environment to participate in deep-thinking than a hard chair in a chilly kitchen, my usual morning destination. So a lie-in is in order.

I'm thinking about "dreamation", a friends' recent blog. It takes awhile to sift through all the fluff - the fantasies that crowd my head - and get to the heart of this. I have a moment of fear, that I have no dreams! Not true at all, I'm just not burdened by numerous goals, never have been and fairly certain I never will. I really prefer to see where life takes me. It's always my choice whether to go along the path or take a sharp right. I just can't be steered by pre-determined goals when I am a constantly evolving woman. What fit yesterday, may not fit today. I cringe at the question "Where do you see yourself in 5 years, ten, twenty?" MY response has always been instantaneous - "Happy". That's it - that's my goal. The look of repulsion on these former Junior Achievement stars is worth the social ousting that usually follows.

Ahhh, the dreams. Those are the beauties. Guaranteed to put a smile on my face. I swear I hear angels sing when I've been swimming in one of those pools of love. I won't share those - not out of fear of backlash or ridicule, but simply that no one has earned the right to know this much about me. Someday it may happen (hmmm, could that be one of my dreams?), but as of yet, nope. So on this dull day in March, they are safe. I have a vault where they're kept, where not even a bottle or two of wine can break into. Only I have the code and I'm not sharing.

D.