The West Memphis Three, from my brain

So, I want to write here more. I need to get over my own "fearing of being narcissistic" crap...lots of people blog...about things like cup cakes...so there. It is a goal of mine to soon write every day. If I can find the time, between three daughters, one husband, two dogs and farmville...lol. Today I feel like the WM3.

West Memphis Three. It sucks they have a "title". If you don't know who they are, go here:
http://www.wm3.org/.
Did ya do it? Now you know. I know that hundreds, thousands of people around the word are wrongly convicted. There are women right now in third world countries being stoned to death because their husband wanted it to happen and claimed adultery. But what can I do about it, other than care. Here in America, there are these three guys, there names are Damien, Jason, and Jesse. If you know me, and were/are friends with me, they were like us in the 90's. They listened to metal. They wore black. They smoked cigarettes, probably pot, too. They were BAD kids...just like we were. Only some horrific murders occurred in their town that didn't occur in ours. If they had, it could have been us.
Today is Jessie's birthday. Poor Jessie. He is mildly mentally retarded. The police forced him into a confession after some 15plus hours of interrogation with out a lawyer present. They nailed them. You need and answer for murders of little boys. I would, if it was my son, brutally murdered along side his young friends. We remember these boys who lost their lives in the most awful way. Chris, Michael, and Stevie.
Steve Branch, Christopher Byers, and Michael Moore were killed in 1993 in a way no child should ever go through. In a way no parent should ever have to hear about. And their killer got away with it. Sick bastard/bastards.


Only thing is, they didn't do it. Damien, Jessie, and Jason, that is.
This was the middle of all the satanic panic that happened in the late 80's-early 90's. I know you remember it. When all the schools banned KISS 'cause it meant Knights in Satans Service....that is so laughable now, being grown, looking at kiss.
I don't want to make this a blog about the facts. I you want those, go to WM3.com, like I said. If you are reading this, I presume you know what I am talking about.
These innocent men cross my mind every day. Be it during cooking a great dinner for my family, or going to sleep in a nice comfortable bed with someone I love beside me. Or maybe it is just as simple as walking outside to check my mailbox, or wiping my ass in the privacy of my own private bathroom, with good toilet paper, I might all. These guys get none of this. Every single day of their lives.
Want your food?, Here it is on a tray, slid through your barred cell door, or served in a cafeteria like setting full of REAL criminals. Eat in peace, my friend.
Wanna go to sleep? Not till the MAN tells you you can. And here, on this "smaller than twin" sized mattress. Either all alone, missing your wife, in a cold cell, or maybe with a cell mate, that you don't belong with. At all. Fuck your comfort.
Wanna get your mail? Maybe, if it is written "the right way", on the "right paper", no stickers, no choice. I'll give it to you if I feel it is appropriate, if not, too bad.
Wanna wipe your ass. Go for it. Here's some John Wayne toilet paper. Here's a guard or cell mate to watch you taking a shit. To watch you as you make sure you got it all. How fucking degrading.
If you know the facts. And I mean FACTS. Not opinions. DNA evidence, my friends. False confessions since retracted, you know these guys didn't do what they are accused and convicted of. You know "they" just needed someone to blame, and these kids fit the part perfectly. Who would stand up for them...then? No one. No one except their poor "white trash" families that the state could easily discredit.
WAKE UP ARKANSAS!
Please, please, pull your heads out of your asses before any more innocent men(children turned into men)die. They didn't do it. You know it. It's hard to admit you are wrong. Especially when you have stood strong for so long. This I know. But sometimes the time comes to say, "I, we, fucked up. Were wrong. I/We're sorry." Go live your lives.
I wonder what they would be, if they were free. With all the talent that lies within them. All the love, all the patients. All the people that surround them with love and positive thought and vibes....Hmmm. What would they be? What would they bring to society?
But in the words of a famous WM3 supporter, "Society, you're a crazy breed. I hope you're not lonely with out me."
And here are a few more famous supporters, if that is more likely to sway you...

http://www.facebook.com/#!/album.php?aid=1861&id=100000947890792

Please think of them. Tonight. As you lay you down to sleep. Jessie. Damien. Jason. Think of them, laying themselves down to asleep, as all the rest of us are free, out here. Free to sleep in our own beds, make love to our lovers, get up when we want, walk out of our doors when we choose. Think about the killer/killers that got away. Help them. If you only send a letter, that is enough. Five dollars on their commissary is beyond awesome. Buy their shirts, books, CD's, movies, whatever. Write your local congress man. Write Obama. Write Oprah. Do something. And if all you can do is tell a friend, tell them. Open peoples eyes. Get behind these guys, before its too late.
Happy Birthday Jessie. Lets hope it's the last you spend alone.
Free the West Memphis Three.
From the bottom of my heart.
One of them wrote this song. May as well have been all of them.


Free them. Free the West Memphis Three. Sleep better at night 'cause you opened your eyes.
To you three men, I am sooooooo sorry. And I love you from the bottom of my heart. If I live to see you free, I will be one happy human being.

A day of disapointment and wonderful women

Lessons I have learned today:

Sometimes you have to put your foot down. You HAVE to stand up for what you feel is right. Even if this goes against your own nature. Even if you have to rock that boat. Even if you draw unwanted attention to yourself, there are somethings you can not let go.

Sometimes you can share your feelings and concerns and they are just not heard. You can yell or you can cry.
You can stay calm or you can stay emotionless.
You can do all of these above and still get no where. You can repeat yourself a zillion times, and sometimes, people just refuse to hear you and there is nothing you can do to change this.

Sometimes there are going to be things that happen that you feel are just plain wrong. And sometimes there is nothing you can do about it other than share your opinion, even if it is unwanted and unheard.
The not being able to make a change is a hard thing to swallow.

Sometimes, even if you feel like no one has heard you, at least you spoke up. Sometimes you can fight for what is right with all you have and come out with only the knowledge that you have done this.
Sometimes that just has to be good enough.

Sometimes the people you expect to be by your side are not. It is how we handle the let down that is a true test of character.
Sometimes, I don't handle let down well. Maybe my true colors are not always as cheery as I'd like to think they are.

Sometimes the people you don't expect to be there for you are the ones that are.
Sometimes people that are not invested in your situation at all are still willing to put their self on the line, right along with you.

Sometimes just having someone say are you OK is a beautiful thing.
I am thankful for many ladies.

This one's for you, girls.

Greener Grass

Lonely...oh so lonely~
Ok, gals. I feel like a total looser! I have been here in TX for almost 4 years now. I have met many people here that I love dearly. People that I may even say are the unknown reason we have moved here. I wouldn't trade them, or their love for anything. But DAMN I miss home! When does it get easier? When will I feel like this is home? I mean...I do, in some aspects of it. This is my home. We have made it that way. My husband has done his manly duty and made this place beautiful for us. I have done my wifely duty and made this house a home. There is not a spot on our walls that are not covered in our photo's or art work. I finally have my garden going again. It is finally all coming together. The girls are getting older. Established. They have their activities, they have their friends and what not. As do I. I have my places I go and my people I see. The farmers market is a regular, going to hang at the old office with my loves, we go to concerts every now and then. That is few and far between due to the fact that we have three children that we trust with no one other than family and family is not here. I just want to know when I will get over it. When will the day come that we get in the car to go to Tulsa and and I don't say "We are going home!"...Wait...stop....that is not home. Not anymore anyway. I just feel like a mother and a wife, that this should be it. This should be enough. But honestly, I am never happier than I am at home, in Oklahoma, with our people. And I truly think the rest of us feel the same way. My husband has made some friendships here that I feel were meant to be. Stars aligning and all that shit. People I feel he will love till the day he dies. I have, as I already said, met a few women here I wouldn't trade anything for. And the girls were so young when we came, they don't even remember their old friends from school. Or their old school for that matter. Of course they miss our "regular" people, the ones that have been there since birth, but they are all good. Why am I not? When will I be? But, man, when we go "home" we are different people, it is like we just "fit" there. We belong there. It has been so long. Four years have gone by. Well, almost. We have had another baby who is more than two now. We have gotten married. We have found a home. We are thriving on the outside. Wouldn't hurt to win the lottery. But whatever. People move. This is a fact of life! I think I am just weak. The ties I have to my family, my sister, my friends that I love with all my heart, it just never gets easier. I was sitting here tonight chatting with my sister, the other part of me, on facebook, my middle girl was telling her jokes via facebook chat, and it just felt so generic. We should be there, in person. We should be able to wrap our arms around each other. They should be able to tell those jokes face to face. I think it is something in my brain that I have not found the switch for. The off switch. The one for Oklahoma. You don't live there. You are not going back. It will forever and always be a long distance relationship with the people we left behind. You see! I can type these words. It's as simple as that. So why does it not work that way in my mind? Why do I feel like we will go home one day when I know we wont. This is where we are. My children are like blossoming flowers here. My husband and his work is an excellent thing. I have been able to be home with my girls for years now, which is just where I want to be. So tell me, why is this not enough? Am I selfish? Because I know in my brain, all i need, all I will ever need is right in these walls of this house we live in. These four people are my everything, so why is it the extra that I long for? There is just something different about old friends. About sisters. About mothers and fathers and nannys and papas and aunts and all of that. Something that new will never replace. No matter how absolutely wonderful the new is, it is still not the old comforts you are used to. If I could just convince all the people I love back home to move down here! HA!
As you know, we lost a human we once loved last week. Going through that being a state away from the person I know is hurting really sucks. Not being able to wrap my arms around my sister and cry with her, and talk with her and reminisce with her. The phone is just not the same. Having these life changing moments with these people I love more than anything over the phone just feels so cheep.
A few of you women friends of mine are going through some shit right now. God, how I want to hug you! I could tell you with my face and my vibes and my love that I am here for you! That I will be. I feel that these are things I can not express on the internet or the telephone. I want to be there with you while you go through what you go through. (caterpillar) I want to cry with you as well, and then make you laugh. In real life. I hope you know that. But the phone, and this silly blog(what a word!)and the facebook are the closest thing I have to you, to I guess that is what I will take.
So excuse me while I whine. I know. Pathetic! It could be worse. I could be homeless, or have some awful disease, or could live in Dar fur or some crazy stuff like that. It is so easy to say that though. It is so hard to step out of my box and realize.
I feel I have grown way to attached to facebook. I feel like I am connected to you all. I feel like I am there. I can post my photos and share with my loved ones and we can talk and laugh about it all like we were all together when it happened. But truth is, we were not.
I just don't get it. How can things be good and me miss the old? And honestly, the old wasn't all that great! Other wise we wouldn't have left. But you know what they say about the grass being greener. Maybe it is my age. Maybe it is my hormones! Who freaking knows. Maybe it was just the last week or two that have been emotionally extra rough.
Ok, so anyway, I know this has to do with nothing! This is not political, or environmental, or even a good read. Just little old me, just bitching and whining. I just miss you Oklahoma, and you people I love that are there more than I ever knew that I would. I miss you. I'm lonely for that old comfort I found in it all, you all. And I am afraid it is something that will last a whole lot longer than four years. I am not a Texan. Never thought of myself as an Okie till we left.
Bottom line. I miss you old friends.
I miss you family.
I miss you beautiful state.
And I wish I didn't.
I love you all. I had no idea how long I would miss you. You humans, you state in which I was born. xoxo

Hold steady, stay positive

It is with a sad heart that I write tonight. It's is also with a few brews and a few sad songs. Someone I once knew has died. He was not my friend. He was not not my friend. He was almost a part of all of us a few and many years back when he shared his heart with my sister. It has been more than a week now since I heard the news. I am really struggling with this, my sweet friends. Many many reasons...way too much here is wrong. I will not tarnish his privacy. Even if he does not need it any longer. I am struggling here because I do not know why this has affected me so. He was a love to my sister. Not me. But my sister shares my heart. So, who she loves, I do as well. We all do. This great sadness has washed over me. This man I knew for such a short time of his life is dead by his own choosing. It is hard for me to think of the joy he brought to us all and the sadness he must have felt at the end of his life. I think of him and happy thoughts and funny stories run through my mind. There was no anger in his and my sisters parting of ways. Only sadness that the rough spots could not be worked through. She always had a fondness for him, as did I, being her big sister. You remember the nice ones. Years go by. There is the occasional conversation of him through things brought about by a certain memory, or a certain photograph on the wall. No more, no less. Just a memory. Till you hear the news.
He chose to end his own life.
By his own hand.
When you hear of other people choosing this line of "action" you think to yourself, well I always did, " You pussy!" Or "God, tough it out, already! Takin' the easy way out.." All these things I have said in the past when discussing suicide. But when it is someone you once cared for, it hits you in a different way. The sadness. How must he have felt. What in the world has happened in the last few years? Oh my god, his parents. I look at my girls dancing or riding their bikes or just sitting, or sleeping, and I think of his mother. To now know how much pain her child must have been in, and how if she only knew, she would have made it better. Of course she would have.
Or his father. That is his son.
Or of his siblings. He was crazy about them. I bet they were crazy about him, too. Bet they would have done anything they could have...
Or his friends. I have friends. You are one. You have friends. What if you got that news? What if you got up in the morning and heard that I had killed myself? What thoughts would go through your head? "Did I know she was sad? Did I do something wrong? When did I call last? What did I say? Why didn't I visit? Why did they do it? Why didn't they tell me? I could have helped them."
It was the day after his funeral, which I did not attend. It was beautiful. I ran to the store. Coming home, music on, sun roof down. Heading home to people that love me, getting ready to be in nature, take in the air. I begin to sob. What if he had just made it one more day. What if he had woke up today like I did, and saw that it was beautiful? Wouldn't he be glad he didn't do it? What does it matter.
This whole thing has shook me. Hard.
I went through this time of "deleting" people out of my life. I am sitting here now thinking, what If I heard that person died. I look at people in our virtual world, in this kind of fake face book life and think, who the fuck are you? Now I think, I am glad you are alive. I'm not so quick to snap at the person at the market. Or to honk my horn to the idiot on the highway. You just never know, my friend. That person may be on their way home to end their life. Maybe they just can't take it any more. Maybe they just want something they can never have. Maybe there is no end in sight. No light at the end of their tunnel.

LOVE!
LOVE!
LOVE, my friends.
And smile. Be kind. It could make such a difference. You just may never know.
People die. Every day. Every second. But when it is someone in your circle of life, someone with a choice, you are left sitting, thinking, what could I have done about these tragic things that I now can not change. My heart aches for this loss of life. My heart aches for his sadness. My heart aches for his loved ones. My heart aches for my sister.

I will end this now with a video he posted on his page. He must have liked it. It must have meant something to him. It's called "Stay Positive".

Here's to you, young man.
Never forgetting. Holding steady. Trying to stay positive.

Raising Little Nazis

So, I have recently posted a video on fb of a little girl stating what seems like someone else's opinion. I got this post from a cousin of mine and shared it on my page. As my husband and I watched it, we did laugh out loud...it was kind of funny, especially for him and I with the viewpoints that we share. I later read that some people labeled this as child abuse. Well, wait, guess I ought to show you the video...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8x14cLGh5o

So there! Make you laugh? Make you mad? Make you think? It is obvious to me this is a script of some sort that this little girl read. I have a 9 year old child. I know the amazing capabilities of her brain, and as freakishly smart as I think my girl is, she does not have the vocabulary to make a statement like this child in the video. This was her parents point of view being expressed through her. Is this child abuse or is this their right to raise their kids mirroring their beliefs? All of us that have decided to reproduce have a great responsibility on our shoulders. These children we are raising in our own image will be running the world while we are in diapers in nursing homes. The decisions we make today affect the world we will live in tomorrow. But what if I am a racists? What if I am a Nazi? What if I am an atheist? What if I am a christian? Is that not my right as well to raise my children to believe what I do? I have a friend who knows a couple that make their little girls listen to gwar. No Hanna Montana allowed! No barbie birthday cakes, gwar cakes with blood and body parts. They don't want to be raising normal little girls, they want them rough and tough. In my thoughts I feel sorry for them. All little girls should have the right to listen to this teeny bopper crap if they want to. God knows all of our parents had to deal with new kids on the block. But then again, this is their right. They produced those kids and if they want to force gwar down the throats of little girls, so be it.
The kkk is alive and well in the united states today. And why is this? People reproduce. They have sex and they have babies. Lets just say you are in the kkk. Then you have a child. Are you then going to decide to raise this child to be color blind? I think not, whether we think this is right or not, we are not the parents of the offspring of kkk members. Whether this in the eyes of most is a terrible injustice for these children, they are not our children. I am judged on this level a lot in this small texas town due to the fact that I do not take our children to church. I can hear it now, "Oh those poor little girls being raised by those non-church going people!" We are invited to attend church with people on a regular basis. As if there is something lacking in our lives since we don't attend. We must need someone to step in and show us the right way, right? Wrong, our kids our choice. If we want to raise them as nazis, we could. If we want to teach them hate, we can. If we wanted to put our kids on a youtube video knocking religion and bill o'reilly, we can. They are ours. And what they become as adults falls squarely on our shoulders.
It does seem so simple to me. Love is the answer. If we raise our children with love, they shall love in return, respect each other and respect the earth. It does seem so simple, but then again is it? While at the zoo with my daughters we were behind a group of mothers and their children. These children would finish their snacks, juice box's, bags of chips and throw them on the ground. WITH TRASH CANS RIGHT THERE! I felt to much rage over this simple act, but obviously, they are not mine. And obviously they are not being trained or raised to respect this planet and throw their trash away! I know mine would never do such a thing because we have raised them to respect this earth. Those mothers did not.
So whether you are dressing you kid up in a kkk costume or putting them on youtube with a political message or just letting them throw trash on the ground, this is your right. I hope we can all deal with the outcomes of our choices when these kids become adults. Do I think this video was child abuse? no. Do i think this was this little girls thoughts and ideas? no. Would I have watched this video if it was a 30something man saying it all? no. Wouldn't have sparked my interest. But there is a fine line here. Saying something is child abuse because we don't believe in it is silly to me. We are all different. Heck, go to the jungles of south america or the deserts of africa, go to the tribes that have not been affected by the outside world. Is it child abuse when their kids run naked? Is it child abuse when their babies are tattooed? No, it is a different way of life. And that is life, right? Ever wondrous, ever changing. Always learning, always teaching. Teaching love or teaching hate, teaching religion or teaching spirituality or teaching none, teaching to recycle, or not, each and everyone of us has that choice. I hope it is a choice we can all live with. But I certainly do not think these choices are child abuse, just rights we all get to have as parents.
Well, there! Whew! Thanks for reading if you did...I'll get off my high horse now and go finish the laundry..

Hello Mr. Zebra,

Guess I'm going to write a bit. He says I should write more. "Write what??" I ask. " I don't know, something real. You're a smart girl, you'll figure it out." he answers. "Who wants to read what I write?" "Who cares? Do it for yourself. You always wanted to write before our life happened." He replies. " Where do I start? What do I say??" I ask, way over thinking just sitting down and writing. " Just say what you feel, write what you are thinking." he answers. "Well, isn't that a bit narcissistic? I mean really, babe, I'm on facebook! People get sick and tired, myself included, of hearing everybody else's ramblings. Believe me." "Well, you're not everybody, you are you."

Ahhh, love is nice.

So, I guess I'm going to write a bit. Write what, you may ask, or why? Because I can, because I want to, for me.

Some of what you read here is real. Some of it is not. Some of what I say may piss you off or it may help you think of things in a different light. You may find tips for your garden or recycling bin, or maybe you can leave me some tips for the many questions I have. Questions like how do we start a commune? Or do you really think Jesus reads your facebook page? Or what can I make with tofu? How do you feel about the West Memphis Three? How do I keep the birds from eating my strawberry plants? How do I get my boy dog to quit peeing on everything? How come sex offenders get out of jail but weed smokers stay in?

Well, where shall I begin? Hmmmm