This is my mom. There are many like her but this one is mine.

There are some things that no child should ever witness their mother do. On a yellow legal notepad, one could easily fill out a few thousand examples of disturbing acts that could traumatize a young infant, or break the heart of an older son/daughter.

I do love my mother and talk to her often. It is very difficult to have a real conversation with her because English is not her primary language. She shuts out the American culture. When she does embrace our customs, she accepts common pop-culture, new trendy concepts, or liberal education.

I love my mom because God tells me to do so. If it weren't for Him, I'd boot my mom from my life entirely. Yet by loving her, I constantly have to turn my cheek from her stupid and ignorant sins she freely chooses to act upon.

Since my mom was always away from home growing up, my dad raised me. It was just me and him....and all his beautiful female secretaries. They helped take me to school, cleaned our house, and make me meals from time to time. My dad was quite the Howard Stark in his company, but my mom had other professions.

At times, I have had to "borrow" other mother figures in my life. They have all done a superb job in raising me. One of the biggest founding mothers of my Christian zeal, I owe to Jane Pichette of Vista, CA. Like Jane, there have been many women and men of all ages that have been a parental figure in my life. I do love their guidance and of course, will not cease loving my own dad and mom. I remain in contact with my parents and speak to them often, mainly by phone.

Painful memories have echoed through the silence in between words of short phone calls but nothing prepared me for the shock I received tonight on my cell phone. As if the devil wasn't already working me from all angles under the sun, here comes another blow to my head. My mom sends me some devastating text messages to me....well, they were actually photos.



.... no.... much worse....





I don't know why I'm alive. I'm constantly reminded of how much I've failed or how wrong or how horrible I am. I don't understand why Christ would love me.

Our modern church is so dead it's hard to find real brothers and sisters in Christ that I can cry and pray with. I was at a Christian store recently and after my purchase/transaction, the cashier asked, "Is there anything I can pray about for you?"

I told her no... I didn't want her to have nightmares.

It's Not What You Know, It's Who You Know!

City of Vegas? More like the City of VISTA!- What a day! I went for a painful run first thing in the morning. Then, I went to the bank. The teller flirted with me hard only because I was depositing a few thousand in cash. Sorry, that dough is for a special girl, not you. LOL. I had lunch with a couple of funny cats. One was cute, the other was mad. But I guess we're all mad here. After that, I did a little bow and arrow training ( I shot a Styrofoam bear!). I relaxed by taking a dive into studying the Ante Nicene Church Fathers. I messed around at Michael's, and finally ended up with a bunch of people at Boomers! The day was just packed!

So I'm at Boomers, a place with arcade games, go-carts, and miniature golf courses, and it turns out that one of my friends knows how to work the system with tickets! Like in the Vegas movies with card counters, my friend knew how to beat the ticket machines with the timing of dropping a token. He was so well at this, the tickets were pouring out of the machine. Not exactly counting cards in a game of Black Jack, but wow... he had these machines on lock down!

I tried to play the ticket games but only scored maybe 4 to 12 tickets at a time. My friend walks up, studies the machine, and carefully times exactly when to drop the token. The tickets were flooding in mad! I'm just standing next to him watching him score again and again and again. I'm collecting so many tickets, all the little kids around me are all mad-dogging me. I'm like, "That's right.... Can I get a wheel barrel?"

Tickets were just piling up in my pockets. We were cleaning the place out! I was screaming, "Ladies, root beer floats are on me!" I kept thinking security was going to come after us, take us out to the alley, and Robert De Niro would ban us from this family fun center!

Instead, we cashed in all our tickets. Since we couldn't figure out where we'd put the lava lamp or inflatable mallet, we just used our tickets to buy A LOT of candy, a dinosaur, a few tops, and other pieces of crap. Good times!

Does Anyone See What I See?

"When a trout rising to a fly gets hooked on a line and finds himself unable to swim about freely, he begins with a fight which results in struggles and splashes and sometimes an escape. Often, of course, the situation is too tough for him.

In the same way the human being struggles with his environment and with the hooks that catch him. Sometimes he masters his difficulties; sometimes they are too much for him. His struggles are all that the world sees and it naturally misunderstands them. It is hard for a free fish to understand what is happening to a hooked one."

-Karl A. Menninger

Every night, multitudes of demons run after me, trying to slam hooks in between the bones of my ribcage. The intensity of the dark nights take a toll on my heart. It is unreal the level of spiritual warfare I engage in every day, multiplied by the oppositions that constantly cut my happiness in two. The pain I endure is indescribable, and I can't help but shed a tear.

I feel baptized by the cold rain that pours over my brow as I take a deep breath of clean, cold air. I wish someone could witness just one hour of what I see every night. Am I alone, left in the lost shadows, fighting evil all by myself?

I can rejoice because there is at least one other person who can witness the pain inflected upon me. I am thankful that Christ burns in my heart of my cold body. He is aware of the night and guides me through to the next hour. He hears me crying, screaming toward the heavens...and His love rests my soul.