Tuesday, August 12, 2014

I'm 29 and other things

Oh hey, I have a blog still...

Before I begin writing about a bunch of things that have nothing to do with each other, let me show you where I'm at right now:

I'm in Alaska with the parents and with the mountains and with (the) Nick. I celebrated, endured -- whatever you want to call it -- my 29th birthday, signifying the last year I will ever have to be in my twenties. It's a bit surreal, luring my wandering thoughts to go places I'd prefer them not, both in the future and in the past. I won't talk about the past since this blog is chock-full of it.

Present: I'm enjoying this beautiful land with family, currently sitting by a fire and sipping coffee from a mug that says "Stud Puffin'." It's drizzling outside, not uncommon for the area and beautiful in it's own way. I've been here for nearly two weeks. The first few days were spent with my parents in Anchorage buying things I don't need, eating just a few too many calories, and hiking the beautiful South Fork Eagle River Valley Trail, which is pictured above (the one with me in it). We then hopped onto a train and spent a week in Denali where things did not go as planned, but made for good stories and unexpected adventures. We booked a campsite in Denali State Park's Wonder Lake Campgrounds, but as soon as we arrived it began raining and Nick and I ended up in the tent for 16+ hours. It was nice at first to listen to the rain hit the tent and be forced to do something productive that did not include internet or cellphone service, but by the next day, as we realized it would most likely not let up, we decided to ditch out and find something else to get into. I was bummed because I really wanted to hike in the area, but such is life. We ended up finding a nice campsite outside of the park and also staying in a lodge where the warm shower and cushy beds were welcomed. I was also able to spoil myself with a delicious piece of salmon that I wouldn't have had otherwise. The situation certainly could have been worse. We decided to spend the last few days bebopping around Anchorage. As our vacation comes to an end, homesickness is beginning to set in, and we're both ready to get back to our lives. My last request before I go: Alaskan king crab legs. It will happen, and it will be glorious.

Future: Ha! Like I know. But... things are looking promising. I think. Better than expected, for sure. 2014 seems to be the year of opportunity for me. So much so that I must assume that 2015 will seem quite dull in comparison. I hope that's not the case, but it's hard for me to believe the same amount of opportunity will continue to come. If that is the case, I'm here and I'm open and I'm ready.

Some of the things that happened in 2014 that will hopefully assist in my future endeavors (or at least won't hurt them) :

  • I received two scholarships from my school: one for my poetry and another for my creative nonfiction.
  • I was accepted into the undergraduate research program at my school. They actually paid me to do research, which still blows my mind a little. My paper is entitled "Victorian Widowhood and "the fate of women" in Gaskell's Cranford and Trollope's The Eustace Diamonds." Sounds interesting, right?
  • I began my internship with a local Press. Since then, I've gone from "intern" to "associate editor" and I couldn't be happier. I've also had the pleasure of working one-on-one with extremely talented authors that have each stolen a piece of my heart and have inspired my own writing in various ways.
  • I was given the poetry editor position at our school's literary arts journal.
  • I was hired as managing editor of our school's newspaper.
  • A poem was published in Birmingham Arts Journal and a nonfiction piece was published in the Oracle Fine Arts Review.
  • A chapter of the memoir that I'm forever working on was chosen as a semi-finalist in the Tucson Festival of Books Literary Arts Awards and I was able to attend a writing conference in Tucson as a result.
  • I was just hired at my school's writing center as a writing tutor -- the first undergraduate to work there.
  • So many other little things that have nothing to do with school, like being in Alaska...
I know all of those things are school related, but that's really just what my life revolves around these days. These are also the things I'm depending on to mold some form of a decent future for myself, an idea that still feels a little strange, slightly unreachable no matter what I do, though I don't let that negative thought consume me. I'm finally a junior, though I still have two years because I'm a double major. I've already scoped out the schools I'm interested in for my Masters degree. Most of them are chosen, not only by the program they offer, but by the area they are in. I desperately want to be near mountains.

It feels weird talking about myself anymore. Putting my accomplishments in bullet-points seems a bit self-important or something, even if they are tiny ones, and even if it's really just a lazy attempt at keeping my thoughts in order. I suppose that's a reason why I haven't been here as much. Where this blog started as a journal just for me, people actually began reading, and I got used to it, but as time goes on the whole thing feels strange. Then again, I'm writing a memoir -- though that feels more hidden, safe, than this. When I think of the book's future, I imagine that if it actually gets published, if people actually read it, I will find a place in the woods and never emerge. The writing I love. People putting my face with my writing is terrifying. Though the idea of being published excites me, it's more so because it makes me feel like I'm capable of accomplishing something than wanting people to know who I am. In fact, I've debated coming up with a pseudonym so that I can fulfil my conflicting needs to be published and also be anonymous in the world. As my nonfiction teacher Jesmyn Ward told me when I brought all of this up, "You're not published yet, so don't worry about those things." And that's about where I'm at with that.

So, that was a strange and unexpected tangent. I'm just in a weird transition, or maybe I always am in one, complete with worry for what is next and a lot of self-reflection that has me in a love/hate relationship with who I am/who I am becoming. Things (I) change so rapidly, it's hard to keep up. One minute I think I have a grasp on "me," then I realize I have no idea who I am. Sometimes it's as if I can't decide on what is me or what isn't -- a constant tug of war between the many facets of myself which are often polar opposite from each other. I'm probably just thinking about it too much. Does anyone really know who they are? Does it even matter? Probably not.

On that note, mom just pulled out some pancake mix. Delicious pancakes are much more important than this black hole of thought I'm about to be sucked into if I'm not careful.

Salut, friends. Until next time.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

There is no such thing as getting used to death

I experienced another death recently. She was a friend from school. A poet. Someone younger than me, but someone I looked up to. I've been struggling with both the need to write about it and the fear of thinking about it at all.

It is interesting how different deaths have different ways of affecting me. Of course losing a husband is devastating. It is expected that a wife who loses a husband be shattered. But what is a friend expected to do? How am I supposed to feel?

She was not someone that I lived with. She was someone that I was getting to know and wanted to know so much more. She was someone I was to work closely with in the years to come. She was someone I assumed would be in my future. It was a friendship I was excited to see blossom. I was excited to see where she was going. She was going places. She was supposed to do things.The emotions that come with such a death are so unfamiliar to me. She didn't consider me a best friend, no. But I felt attached to her for some reason. I was rooting for her. She came to me for advice. She trusted me. She just needed someone to listen. I just wish I would've listened a little closer.

And yes, I know it's not my fault. There was nothing I could do. But I also know that it's just the way things go when someone dies: all the what if's drown away common sense. Those damn what if's.

My friend was murdered. And it was in a way that hits close to home. Too close to home.

I remember when Cleve died, one of the first things my mother said to me was, "It could have been both of you."

I was so mad at her.

When someone dies you want to remember them as perfect beings. You only want to remember the good, and there was so much good -- so much more than bad -- but the reality of Cleve and my situation was that it became violent. There was a reason I had to choose to separate myself from him in the end. There was a reason he was in therapy for his PTSD. I can blame myself all day long for the decisions I was forced to make because he ended up dying and, in the end, I would redo everything, god I would, but I can't tell the future and I did the best I could and now I know that, damn it, my mom was right. She was fucking right. He could have killed me and then himself. And I've never quite been able to admit that, to verbalize the horrendous and unfair reality, but long ago when he was arrested for domestic violence for chasing me through our neighborhood with a gun -- for looking at me dead in the eyes with a cigar in his mouth as if it were his last he would ever smoke, gun cocked in one hand -- I knew what he was capable of. I knew, for the first time, that his amputated leg was not the most severe wound he earned at war. He could have killed me and he could have killed himself. If my neighbor had not heard me screaming, there is a chance neither of us would be here. And then what?

The reality of this came full circle when I received the call that my beautiful friend was shot by her husband. They were young. Only 20. She married him on a whim after her brother died, her third brother to die in three years. She was grieving and needed love. She wanted family. Her brothers were all she had. But soon she realized her husband was not what she expected, as she continued to excel, he remained stagnant, sad, emotionally abusive, and she left him. She met someone else. Someone who loved her the way she needed. Months later, her soon-to-be-ex husband shot and killed her and the man she was seeing at four-o-clock in the morning, on their wedding anniversary then turned the gun on himself.

The situation is different, as all situations are, but it was a sharp reminder of what people are capable of. People are capable of killing each other. Killing people they love.

I don't get it. I just don't.

She was someone who overcame so much adversity with a grace and beauty that I wish I had had at her age. She had such a bright future. I cannot help but wonder what the point of it was. Why would someone go through so much -- and trust me I haven't explained half of what she has gone through, I'm talking homelessness, mother on drugs, multiple deaths, it's just insane -- then go to college and excel the way that she did, only to be killed?? What the hell is the point? I'm so mad at him. I'm so pissed off.

And I'm disappointed, too. I wanted to get to know her more. I wanted to see where she was going. I wanted to see what she was capable of! It's not fair.

Now that I've ranted, I will say that going through Cleve's death taught me that I do believe our loved ones are still out there somewhere. My rants are truly selfish. I want them with me and I want them to remain in the place that my tiny mind understands -- this life. Cleve and my friend are happier where they are, I'm sure. They both suffered so much. They don't have to anymore. Yes, cheesy, don't care. That's all I want. I just want them and everyone else who passes from this life to be okay. And I do think they are.

But it still sucks. And it hurts.


Friday, January 3, 2014

Yes, I'm still writing-- just not in my blog.

As anyone who has been reading my blog over the years knows, I've really dropped the ball on keeping this thing updated recently. I've also gone back and forth with whether or not I should shut this blog down completely -- my opinion on that changes daily, though I'm not sure I could ever officially part with it.

That being said, I promise you I have been writing. In fact, I probably write more than I ever did before, only the things I write are for school or for my memoir or are in the form of poetry.

I've been getting into poetry recently, thanks to a professor I've become quite close to. I once thought poetry was cheesy and lame, but now I realize I was just ignorant to the subject. Dr. Walker encouraged me to take one of her poetry classes, so I did. Shortly after doing so, I realized I'm not half bad. I also realized it's therapeutic and it helps me to be a better writer in general. I love it. I really do. And since I began, I've had a few poems selected for publication in different journals in the state. Once the publications are out, if I'm not too embarrassed (I get shy with my poetry for some reason) I'll have to share.

As for the memoir, I have a lot written, but I have four solid rough chapters that I feel are actually viable. In fact, to my complete and utter surprise, the first chapter was recently selected as a finalist, one of ten overall finalists in the non-fiction category, for the Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards. I was invited to a Masters Workshop that only 50 people get to attend. It may not be first prize, or third for that matter, but  it's better than "You Suck!" I'll take it. Though, upon re-reading the chapter again, the grammatical errors truly make me wonder what the judges saw in it. Then again, I'm harder on myself than anyone else is. They must have liked something in it to ignore my lack of understanding of comma placement. So, I'll take it.

I'm going to be continuing to write my memoir in a Creative Non-Fiction class next semester. If I can push out four more chapters, I'll have a small book. That would be pretty awesome.

Speaking of books, Andrew is writing one about his walk across America and has recently gotten a book deal. It should be coming out some time in 2015. Be looking out for that, because he is a beautiful writer with a beautiful story. Here is his blog as well: Walking to Listen

Another book to look out for: My professor for Creative Non-Fiction is Jesmyn Ward whom just published her third book and first memoir, Men We Reaped. I read it over the winter break and was pretty blown away. It's often sad, but it's a glimpse into a life I would have never known otherwise. I encourage anyone reading this post to check her books out.

News not involving book pitches:

This semester I'm beginning an internship as a student editor at a local publishing agency. I'm also going to begin getting ready for research I'll be doing this summer. The research will combine literature, sociology, and widows. I can't wait. I'm also on the Fiction and Non-Fiction board of our literary arts journal, and was just asked to take the Poetry Editor position as well.

I never, ever would have guessed I would be doing this -- learning to become a writer and editor and researcher. But, my god, I love it. It makes me wonder how I never saw it in myself before. If only I had...

Well, I'm going to try to update the blog more despite the workload. I need to be keeping a journal. It's a good habit to have.

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Where I came from, Where I'm going

I just finished my second year in college. A lot of changes took place since I began, one being a change of Majors. Instead of Communications, I decided I fit more comfortably in the English Department. Then I realized I needed to add Sociology -- I suppose that second Major comes from my need to understand the world and how it affects us. Most likely because I want to understand how my world affects me. How it molded me into who I am now and who it will mold me to be tomorrow. I've found English and Sociology complement me and each other beautifully. I'm happy here.

Happiness is another thing I've found. The ability to be content. Both with myself and with the things around me. I realized that happiness begins as a choice, then when it's least expected, it just is. The happiness begins breeding more happiness. It takes on a mind of it's own and, suddenly, life is just good. Life is good.

I've come to terms with life -- and death. The inevitability of the end. The ability to accept the end, not fear it, all while having the will to live and live big. The knowing that I'll see the ones I lose again one day. The fact that they never actually left in the first place. Cleve is still here. He's everywhere. I just have to be open to it. In fact, I feel this wasn't my first life with Cleve. It's not my first life with anyone I've known and loved. I knew them before, I'll know them again. He was done here. When I'm done here, we'll meet again.

Spirituality. I've realized I am spiritual, only not in the same way I was before. Before he died, before he was injured, before I began making questionable decisions as an adolescent. As negative things began to pile up in my life, I began wondering if there was a place for me in the spiritual world. If God, whoever she or he was, even wanted me anymore. If God had forgotten I was here. Thrown me away. But I've realized, finally, that nothing can be learned in a perfect life. That, perhaps, the things we experience, the things that bring pain and suffering, that force us to learn and push ourselves beyond what we imagined ourselves capable, are really the most important things offered to us. Maybe those are the exact things that help us to grow spiritually, that offer true happiness if only we can survive through it. I was never forgotten. I was being focused on. Taught. When I finally realized that, I found peace. I have so much more to learn. I continue struggling with my flaws -- impatience, vanity, for my own sake I'll stop there -- but I feel I'm more open to my flaws and therefore am more capable of working on them in a healthy way instead of dwelling on them and letting them make me feel invalid. I believe that is the spirituality I've found. The unique and precious being inside of me, and the knowing that I must continue to grow and learn and be better and hopefully, one day, be able to help others do the same.

 I've moved away from the beach. I'm living in downtown Mobile now and am loving the city life. I do, however, need the outdoors to keep me balanced. I've become a bit obsessed with camping and the idea of hiking -- something I did with my father growing up. I've finally collected the appropriate gear to survive in the wilderness and am planning my first hiking trips. First the Appalachian trail, somewhere in Tennessee, then Denali State Park, then the John Muir Trail. I'm sure there will be many small trips in between, but those are the big ones for now. As for the city, I've moved into a building that was built in the 1800's and converted into studios. As much as I love the woods, I also love the ability to open my old windows and watch people in their concrete habitat crossing streets, chatting in front of cafes, waiting for traffic lights to turn. I've learned to love being around people as much as I love seclusion. I need both.

Tonight some friends from school, a widow I met after Cleve passed, Cleve's best friend from the Marine Corps, and my boyfriend (still Nick) will be gathering to bring in the New Year. The past and present will be in one place to celebrate the future. How cool is that?

 Happy New Year!

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Hello, Hello

I have been a terrible blogger and I apologize for this. I have been writing, though. I promise. In fact, I've been writing a lot. So much so that I simply do not have time to blog like I used to. It's a good thing.

Everything is still going well. I'm ready for this semester to be over. I'm starting to feel a little burnt out. Spring is in the air and the 80 degree weather is demanding my attention. It's not my fault. It's Mother Nature. She's very pushy.

I feel terrible. I'm not sure what to write about. I will say that I've been working on my memoir as much as I can. This summer  I plan to bust out a large chunk. I've learned so much this semester about memoir writing. I've got a much better grasp of what it's going to take than I did before taking this class. I'm excited to put all my effort into it. Even if it's never published, it will be cool to have it finished for me.

And let me just say, writing about your own life is no joke. I'm going to be admitting and talking about things that I definitely do not talk about in this blog. It's terrifying to literally be an open book. In the same breath, it might be liberating to just get it all out there. The finished product will be interesting to say the least.

What else, what else.

I dunno. I'm just happy where I'm at right now. Things are easy breezy. Nothing crazy to report which is a beautiful thing. I'm healthy, happy, and moving forward.

Can I get a low five? Oooh yeah.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Well, hello 2013

So, 2012 was one of the best years of my entire life. Nothing and no one blew up, fell apart, or died. I've made a ton of badass friends. I accomplished my top two goals - losing weight and going to college. I traveled. I beach bummed it out. I partied. I laughed. I loved.

I found my passion to live again. I found me; arguably something I had never actually had before. 

As I told my mother how great my year was earlier today, I teared up a little. It feels really nice to say that. 

For 2013 I don't have a laundry list of resolutions. All I want is to maintain the amazing things in my life and continue being happy. 

And that...was the best thing about 2012. I'm finally just happy.

Here are some pictures from New Years Eve. I had a blast with the people that got me to my happy place. 




Amber and Me

Nick and Me

Amber, Me, Mindy

Cheers to a new year!

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

American Widow Project - Austin, TX 2013

As I write this, I have this song stuck in my head:

Don't worry, I'll explain.

Have you ever done something on a whim knowing that you didn't have the time, but once you were there it hit you that you were supposed to be there - screw the other responsibilities?

Yeah. That sums the weekend up nicely.

Here's the dealio. When I attended my first AWP event back in 2010, I was shy, awkward, weird, scared, nervous, and every other sad word imaginable. I felt bad the entire time because I wasn't myself and I was afraid that, as a result, I wouldn't get everything I could be getting out of the experience. In the end, what I ultimately gained were two local widows who turned out to be very important friends; widows that have helped to flip every single one of those negative words around.

Fast-forward to this weekend. I was fairly nervous, mostly because I didn't want to be the same way I was on the last trip. I wanted to be open - be myself. I'll never forget walking into the airport sports bar in Austin. Another widow and I had gotten in earlier than the rest of the gang so we decided to meet up and hangout until our ride came. I didn't know who I was looking for so I texted her with a grin on my face knowing she would either laugh or think I was a weirdo, "Is it awkward if I ask you what you're wearing?" All of a sudden I hear a voice coming from the far corner of the bar, "I'm right here, Karie." We cracked up, introduced ourselves, and quickly became comfortable in our bond of both being widows.

We stayed in a large house on a small hill that had a beautiful view of Austin. I didn't get to see much of the city; we were too busy doing awesome widow things at the house. I was okay with this.

Throughout my time there I quickly realized how much I've changed in the last two years. I mean, I've noticed things here and there, but I'd never heard someone verbalize it or physically noticed myself being different. I believe because I was so awkward at the first event I went to, it just made it that much more apparent how much better I was doing at the second one.

And then this happened: When asked what I was naturally good at, I was stumped. I feel that everything I am good at now took work - I wasn't necessarily born with anything awesome. Then, one of the girls said to me, "Well, I think you're naturally good at talking to new people and making them feel comfortable."

Okay. This may seem small to the average person, but to me this is a HUGE deal. I've never been good at that - and I told her that. Then she said something along the lines of, "I think it was always there, you just had to find it."

I've never thought of things that way. It seems fairly obvious, but when she said that, something clicked with me. For one, I have been working on being more personable and just being myself around new people and apparently it worked (Yessss!) It feels good to not be the utterly sad wallflower for once. Even more, the thought that I've always been that person and just needed to cultivate it is pretty cool. Maybe there is a lot to me that I don't realize. It's fun finding new layers to myself and realizing I'm much more awesome than I ever gave myself credit for.

I also realized on the trip that I second guess my intelligence a lot. One of the girls is a Yale graduate which did two things: 1) It made my scholarly balls shrink as I admitted I go to a school in Alabammy, and 2) it made me realize that people at Ivy league schools aren't a myth - they are real people. All of us talked a lot about goals and passions and such and I regularly brought up education. It's apparently very important to me. I realized that I am very serious about looking into getting a PHD, and I realized I am capable of doing that if I just put the effort in. Then I came home to a week of finals. Then I got my grades for the semester - all A's baby.

One day I will come back to this blog as Dr. Fugett and laugh my ass off at this post. It will be a glorious day.

Now that you know the sappy emotional stuff, I must list some of the activities that took place:

1.) I ate at a food trailer. I'm convinced that food served in cone form tastes better.
2.) I made a flower bouquet at a flower shop! It's much more difficult than you would think, but I think mine turned out lovely.
3.) I learned a new line dance (refer to music video above.)
4.) I got to pick people's brains about non-profit start-up.
5.) I made a fancy shmancy dinner with the ladies.
6.) We had a chef come in and cook for us.
7.) I know there is more but I have a perma-brainfart. I apologize.

My weekend with AWP was fantastic. I learned a lot about myself and I walked away with a handful of quality new friends. I miss them a lot, actually. That is the only downside of the weekends - having to leave.

My life would be so much different without my AWP and the beautifully awesometastic Taryn Davis. I wouldn't know all of the girls I've become so close to who have helped me not only survive but flourish. It's hard to put into words what the organization means to me. I can't wait to go again.

All the lovely ladies on the first day. 

My bouquet! 

My room for the weekend. 

Coned food. 

All of us with the chef. 

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Happy Thanksgiving Ya'll

The holidays are always a little difficult without you know who, but I must say that I'm so thankful for the memories I have. In fact, that's what I'm most thankful for at this particular moment. Even when people are gone from this earth, they truly remain in the hearts and minds of those who loved them. Our ability to remember the past is a gift. I will never go without seeing his face as every detail is burned into my memory. I'm a lucky girl to have seen such a beautiful face and to have been loved by such a beautiful person. What is there not to be thankful for?

I hope your bellies are full and love and laughter is abundant.

Happy Thanksgiving

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

I. Love. Education.

Next semester I have a memoir class on lock which is taught by a novelist who is currently working on her third book, a memoir. I will finally be forced to write (finish) it, as painful as it may be. I am also working on forming a directed study for myself where I will be compiling stories of veterans from Vietnam and World War II for a separate book.

So, basically, if I get the directed study on lock I will be working on two (TWO!) books next semester. Kind of intimidating, but I'm just going to treat them as if they are any other class - peck away at each one every week and hope that the end result is something legible.

I. Love. Education.

If I end up in school forever, do not be surprised. I've found my home.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Searching For Answers

Don't freak out. I realize what I'm about to say is slightly off the wall, especially for some of you, but it is something I feel I need to do.

This is me needing answers and using last resorts to get them...

I think I'm going to speak with a medium soon. That and I may go to a past life regressionist.

I don't speak of my "beliefs" often, if I have ever. The truth is that I don't know what I believe. I used to think I knew, then I began questioning everything after Cleve was injured. After he died it was as if everything I had been taught was foreign to me. Two and Two did not equal four and I refuse to follow anything blindly. If it doesn't make sense to me, it isn't for me. So that was that.

Now, I suppose I'm looking for some truth. I want something that makes this universe make sense to me. Even if it's just a little bit of sense. Because, as of now, I'm leaning toward us all being a freak scientific accident - that our ultimate destiny is to be dust. The thing is, I don't want to believe that. There must be more. Surely there is a rhyme. There has to be a reason for all of this.

So, I'm going to explore other options. And I'm starting here. I've talked to a couple of widows now that have talked to mediums and have gotten amazing results. The closure and the answers they received - I want that. Maybe it's all fake - fine. But I have to try. I have to try to talk to him one more time. Just once. If you tell me there is any chance that is possible, you better be damn sure I'm going to take it.

As far as the past lives, it's just something I've pondered often since he died. There had to be more to us. There has to be more later. There has to be. If this life was it, then I will be glad to be dust. I do not need a "heaven" without him and according to the bible I was taught on, he did many things that wouldn't allow him into the gates. He didn't get a chance to fix those things. And that's bullshit. Our "actions" as imperfect human beings - something that, I'm sorry but, did we ask to be born? - does not justify to me a solid place in "hell". To be told that some are just lucky enough to live long enough to repent for their "sins" while others are taken suddenly with no more chance left, is - frankly - horse shit. I'd rather believe that, if we do have souls, our souls get to grow through time. And that those we lose, we see again. That we get second chances to make up for past mistakes.

So, I'm exploring it because... why not? I have nothing to lose except maybe the respect of my Christian family but that would only solidify my feelings on all of this. So. There.

Two other widows and I are going to be flying to Salem, MA in January to see another widow friend to do the medium thing. We were all randomly feeling we needed to do this last week without even knowing the others were feeling the same. That was really what did it for me. Yea, I also pay attention to "signs" now. Synchronicity, to me, is the universe letting me know I'm on the right path. So I'm just gonna keep on truckin'.

All of my Christian friends out there, if you are appalled by this post, it will be okay. Let's just put it this way. If there is a hell and hell is what I was taught growing up then that is very well where my husband is. If he is there, I can be there, too. Though, I just don't believe it anymore.

I can't.

I shall report back on all of the shenanigans as they ensue.