That’s where these come in.

Maybe I’m writing this because I have really felt the need to see his grave again, and I will this summer, because I haven’t been back to it since I was 17.  Or maybe it is because I feel like he might be proud of me, and maybe this is my way of letting him know?  Can the dead read blogs?

In any event, I miss my dad all the time, I just don’t dwell on it like I used to.  My dad’s death took a huge toll on me and really shaped my teenage years.  Having a father dying of AIDS is something no child should have to ever experience, but I did, and I think I can safely say I have finally made peace with it.

Last year on March 9, it was the 20th anniversary of my father’s passing.  At 7:30PM in a Panorama City hospice, March 9, 1991, my father died of AIDS while I stood by him, holding his left knee.  I didn’t think it was real, and thought he was playing a prank.  He was a big prankster, and I thought this was a big joke, but obviously, it wasn’t.

Me and my dad didn’t always have a great relationship, but I was definitely loyal to him and I still am.  If it were not for my dad, I would not be where I am today.  My dad is my inspiration to do better all the time, because that’s how he was.  He worked hard for everything he had and in the end, that’s the legacy he left me with.

This year, I want to be happy.  I don’t want to remember that moment 21 years ago and I want to celebrate life because I know my dad would want that.  He would want me to be happy and successful, so I guess this is my way of honoring that.  It’s Valentine’s Day, and I am writing a blog to my dad because I never got the chance to say I loved him while he was dying.  I took it really hard, and I avoided him most of the time, but in the end, I was there.  I was the only one of his four children in the room with him as he took his last breath.  I don’t want to remember him like that anymore.

I want to remember him as he was when he was well.  I want to remember his laugh, what his voice sounded like and the kind of music he listened to when we would take road trips from California to Arizona all the time.  I want to remember how mad he would get if I farted and how he would talk in funny voices saying he was an alien named Sammy the Spaceman with a girlfriend named Sally the Spacegirl.  I want to remember how he sat me on his lap when I was 10 years old and told me not to let boys do things to me because I was becoming pretty.  Most of all, I want to remember how he used to pretend he was Santa on Christmas morning and wake me up by yelling, “Ho Ho Ho!” from the living room.  I want to remember the good times.

I remember the bad times too, but that’s part of life and without them, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate the good times.

He liked to be called Bob.  His name was Robert.  I just called him Dad or Daddy.

I love you, Daddy!  :)

Slim Whitman, “I Remember You”

Here are a few pictures of me when I was a little kid, too.  :)

Note: You might want to close this right now if your heart rate goes bonkers over liberal thinking.

Ahem…

I am not really active in politics or religion, but if one were to classify my beliefs and viewpoints, they could do so labeling them as highly spiritual and liberal. I care about politics and religion, but I don’t let it get to the point where I see someone with differing opinions and judge them or speak harshly of them.

Basically, this entire blog can be considered a viewpoint from an outsider, but a human nonetheless.

An interesting trend I see on numerous occasions is certain folks who are irreparably conservative but stake the claim that Christianity is largely comprised of the same beliefs. This really does not make sense to me, being a liberal, because for one, church and state are distinctly separated for a reason: to refrain from shoving a religion down the unsuspecting throats of others, like the early colonists did to Native Americans. Like so many others before who have used and manipulated religion to further their own means. Why then, is it necessary for some conservative political extremists to use the word of God to justify acts of barbarism?

Criminals which have been put to death seem to be just as guilty of “hiding behind God” when they are asked for their final statements. Hell, even prisoners serving a few years are mostly made up of born again Christians.

Before you accuse me of atheism, witchcraft, or worse, satanism, remember at the beginning I told you I was liberal?

Something else that has always bothered me is not only am I judged for being female, but any right-wing conservatives reading this just judged me for my political beliefs. Honestly, I have never known a liberal to be as judgmental as conservatives can be.

In any event, I do not believe Jesus was a conservative either. If Jesus were alive today, he would be a long-haired liberal hippy who would likely be politically crucified by conservatives for his forgiving nature.

I don’t like the saying, “If you’re liberal after 30, you’re just dumb.” Jesus was 33 when he was crucified. Was he “dumb” for being nailed to the cross for his beliefs?

Anyway, just some food for thought.

Leave comments no matter what end of the political spectrum you’re on or what belief system you subscribe to. I respect all viewpoints and unless you’re spewing hate, your comment will be approved.

Mostly recorded by me, inebriated, back in 2007 before sobriety was my thing.

I forgot about these, but apparently they have been getting some click action on YouTube in the last five years.

Here are some:

What if I told you that you could have anything you want?  Would you believe me?  I would be lying in essence, because some things are never meant to be, but for the most part, if you try hard enough, you can.  Why, though, does it seem that some people get more than they deserve while others are left pining for scraps left on the ground by the ungrateful?

I am not bitter, not at all actually.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  I am happy with my life.  Sure, there could be more to it, but I have lived through a lot and am in a comfortable place now.  You would never know by looking at me or talking to me that I have been through many nightmares, and I probably would never talk about them because I hate it when people think I am trying to tell them some sob story to gain sympathy.  Sympathy is counterproductive, in my opinion.  While it can be helpful to the psychic vampire, it is definitely a hindrance to someone if they are to live to their fullest potential.  Empathy is well received by me, because it means that person knows what I am going through and can help me in the way I need it, if I need it.  Not that I’m really going through anything in particular, but I think you get my drift.

I have been thinking a lot, I do that sometimes, and I have realized that in recent years, I have developed a fear of intimacy.  This is not something I ever thought I would have a problem with because I am naturally a very loving and affectionate person, but I am tired of being hurt, used, lied to and back-stabbed.  I do not think all people are bad, but I do not want to set myself up for heartbreak so I close myself off most of the time.

Wah wah wah…cry me a river, right?  Yeah, well, I don’t really cry either.  Maybe I should.  Tears can be healing, but unless I am in a situation where I feel helpless, I don’t cry.  Everything can be helped.  Everything can be changed to some degree.  Having hope is healing, though it can be crippling, but if you are realistic about hope and stay positive, that in itself is enough to sustain you.

I have never really been one to cry on someone else’s shoulder.  I am always the one others seek out when they need a shoulder to cry on.  I think this is a good thing to be depended on, but it has its moments where I feel that I am needed too much.  This makes me appear cold at times, which I am not, but something has to be preserved for myself, you know?  I can’t give it all away.

I am being very introspective, I know, but I needed this.  I do not keep a diary aside from this blog.  I have several blogs, but it seems I have really developed a strong attachment to this one.  I am myself here.  You know me.  I’d give you a hug, but it’s kind of hard to touch you through a computer.  :)

In closing, I would just like to say thank you for reading this.  I am not really looking for any kind of answer, I just needed to write this and make sense of what I am feeling.

Hahaha…you thought I was posting boobie pics, didn’t you?!

Just admit it, you clicked that link and thought you’d see boobs!

HAHAHAHAHA!!

PERVERT!!!!