Mirror Mirror on the Walls

Vista, CA- I have the honor of housesitting for a friend of mine. They have pets, one of which is a large dog. I love big dogs. Women often call me a dog and now I see why. I get along great with big dogs! It takes one to know one.

Anyway, this house I'm in has mirrors EVERYWHERE! Many of the doors, and doors to closets and pantries, are complete mirrors. Every room I go into, everywhere I try to stand is a mirror. There are mirrors all over the place. I'm surprised there aren't any mirrors on ceiling. The tile floor is very clean, almost mirror like. Good thing I'm not wearing a skirt today.

(I'm kidding, I'm a guy. I'm not wearing a skirt.)

The members of this household are a very respectable Christian family. It's not like they use the mirrors for seances or anything. Could the ladies of the household be that vain: that they have to look at themselves all the time? Or is it the men who are in love with their appearance? I don't know.

Why are there so many mirrors? I remember how my dad hated mirrors. He didn't even like to sit in a restaurant that had a mirror where he could see it. When my mom would buy a mirror, he'd make her get rid of it. Was my dad a Vampire? Wait, that doesn't make sense. Supposedly Vampires can't see their reflection. Can non-vampires see the reflections of vampires? Back in my apartment, I have a book that would clarify that for me. Yeah, I use to hunt vampires for a living. Not so much anymore because CA passed a law that makes vampire slaying illegal. Whutevah.

At night, I find myself wondering around the household, checking to make sure the windows and doors are locked, and that all else is well. I have minimum lighting. The dimmed incandescent lights cast out a weak candle like glow down each corridor. In some areas, the dim lighting gives the house a warm feel, like I'm actually in a Thomas Kinkade painting.

However, there are times when I leave my guest bed to wander into the kitchen, perhaps for a snack. Alone in the dark, I am often startled by my own reflections in the mirrors. One night, I was walking out of the bedroom and didn't realize that there was a mirror to my left. I thought some guy was walking up to me. Since I still have my Marine Corps Martial Arts training programmed into my hard drive, I immediately got ready to strike and take down the shadowy figure. To my relief, the horrid creature was just me....my reflection.

It's creepy. I see myself in the present mirrors across the room and to the sides of me. I often test my reflections to make sure they are my own. I make funny faces at myself like a teenage girl in a Facebook photograph. I test the movements and speed of my reflection every now and then just to make sure all is well.
If my reflection hesitates for even a moment, or even dares to refuse to walk like an egyptian, I will bolt out the door in a heartbeat, in my mini skirt and all. LOL.

Take Me Home

by: THRILL



Every night, I say goodbye to my friends and those I love the most
I hop upon my white horse and disappear like a ghost
Into the night we ride, my horse knows the routine
The heartbeat slows down in this old Marine

My eyes are too tired from the battlefield all day
I drift asleep upon his back, my horse knows the way
Moonlight shines through the fingers of the scary trees
My long hair waves in the gentle, cold breeze.

We ride past black castles with windows that shine
I pray one day that one of them will be mine
A quick glance at the nightly images as I ride
A Bible in my sack, and a rifle at my side

An occasional demon or ghostly apparition
Spiritual warfare, or lack of nutrition?
Too tired to stop and fight, my horse would agree
Ride on we will, my enemies can't catch me



Faster and faster, I ride like Paul Revere
The Lord has my soul, whom shall I fear?
The dark road before me, uncertain, with lies
Righteous beams of light shine from my horse's eyes

I hold on tight trying not to give up
When my horse slows down, I yell "Giddy Up!"
After midnight, we cross the country side alone
Very few bars on my cellular phone

Over a creek, and by a foothill meadow
Lost in the black of the moon's shadow
Down one road, and further down another
Leaning forward, holding on to each other

I've been riding into the night for many years
No one can see me cry these painful tears
One last heartbreak kept from being shown
All I ask is that my horse take me home

In The End

The end result can tell us a lot. If I build a car, part by part, I can test to see if I built it correctly by starting it. If the engine runs healthy, I know by the end result that I build this car correctly.

Many times, we can see evidence to our actions by our end result. If I have a drinking problem, then seek help, I can tell whether or not my counseling is positive or not by my latter drinking habits.

A new product arrives on the line and promises to perform a certain way. I purchase this product in hopes that it will uphold to it's purpose. When I go to use the product, I will know whether or not it is of any quality by it's performance.

But sometimes, it's not so complicated and doesn't require a lot of scientific data. For example, if I play a sports game, i.e. basketball, I can tell by the final score whether or not I was victorious. Plain and simple.

Now, what if I was given data (that any person of reason would confirm) that said I won the basketball game. (say my final score was 117, and the opposing team was 108) It is evident that I won, right? What do I do if I'm told that I lost...especially when the facts show I won by 9 points?

Could I fight for the evidential truth? If so, what would I do? What would I need to do? How can one screw up a grilled-cheese sandwich? The score is plain and clear that I was the winner.

This is one reason why I can't stand living.

Let's say someone told me I lost that basketball game when I clearly won it.
I would find their accusations to be wrong. If I was passionate about how hard I worked at winning that game, I would also find it offensive.

But when I present the facts that show what the final score was, how is it that I'm being offensive?
And lets say the evidence I used was a recorded game book that showed a written score tally- Is it fair for those who claim I lost to say they do not approve of what evidence I used to defend my case?

Next thing I know, I'm apologizing for trying to defend myself when I originally was the victim. I'm apologizing because it was untactful to ask the refs for the game score record book. I'm apologizing for being the victim of slander.

Do you think this is silly? I sure as hell do.

Imagine fighting for truth because YOU are a victim....
...then imagine having to apologize because your pain is offensive.
If a rape victim screamed bloody murder while a guy raped her, should she apologize for screaming? Should she apologize for trying to scratch his face? Should she apologize for calling the cops?

I tried so hard and I got so far, but in the end....it doesn't even matter. As a victim, I had to apologize for being hurt.

My Love Note For A Special Girl

So there is this female that I admire. She is extremely gorgeous and I really would like to give her a Valentine's Day note tomorrow.

In fact, I spent a couple of hours working on it. I'm hoping that she will be impressed with it and notices the care I took in making the card.

I'm really hoping that she'll be flattered to receive it from me. Of course, that is the problem. This beautiful note that I made just for her will be from me.

You see, I think she is terrific. I am a little nervous about giving it to her but my butterflies are not what's holding me back. Even if she does admire my gift for her and even if she is willing to choose to love me, am I good enough for her?

She completely passes my standards in flying colors. But do I deserve her to be my Valentine?


Well, I hold this hand-made card in my hand and wonder whether or not to give it to her tomorrow. After I get off work, I'll know where she will be. I could travel to see her, then walk up to her and wish her a great Valentine's Day!

The card I made is SO beautiful. I should make these and sell them as a side hobby.

But as wonderful as she is.... and by gawd she is amazing...
...and as wonderful as this love note is....
..and as wonderful as she would be in my arms...


....I can't do it.
Why should I let her be in my arms when there are better arms she could be in?

Tomorrow, I will read my love letter I wrote for her one more time, saying the words aloud as if she was there by my side,

then burn it.

I'll just pray that she finds better love than I on Valentine's Day.