His Idea Of Love

I have been working on some projects with makeup called "His Idea Of Love" and I have found someone who is willing to put up with my blobs of inspiration. Does that sound strange? Indeed it does. Enjoy.



Farewell.

Flies

Flies in my garage: horrible, horrible flies. The trash is out, there is no food anywhere, and yet these bastards still decide to take over. I have been scratching my brain, thinking of ideas of how to get rid of them, and yet I come up with nothing.
While waiting for my niece and nephew to come home from school, I decide to accept these flies in my garage and have taken a photograph as proof that: I still want them dead, but I will settle for their presence right now.



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Farewell.

Long time no post...

Hello fellow bloggers,

This blog of mine has been on the back-burner for quite some time now and I plan to revive it. Thank you all for still being my friends on here, I would have quit on myself a LONG TIME AGO!

Well, I have moved to Texas and live with my sister and husband. It's stable enough and has some good and bad. I am managing somehow, and finding the small bits of happiness that get lost in the air sometimes.

I feel quite crazy for not writing sooner, but for the past 2 years, my mind has been in 10000 different places so I didn't think anyone would want to read my gibberish.
This is the first of many new posts on here.


Shari

What Are We Afraif Of?

(This was written by my sister Karen about being raised in the "Children Of God" and I thought it was amazing)

I was talking to my beautiful, intelligent sister this evening and discussing a recent post made by my brother-in-law, Chris. We discussed how true his post was and how it is that we, as former members and children of members of the Family International, are typically scared or afraid of posting thoughts such as these or possibly even voicing them. We, together, came to with the conclusion that the abuse suffered by each and every child (generally, at least), is still in bondage to some degree by the abuse we suffered during our upbringing. I use the term we, but really, I am speaking for myself.

Needless to say, it begs the question, what are we afraid of? Are we afraid of 50-something-year-old women and men who, without an education, lived their lives in by a standard that was called living by faith, or otherwise known as living on the backs of others? Are we afraid of rocking the boat, so as to say, we want to maintain the pittance of a relationship we have established with our parents and family members that remain in this organization? Are we afraid we would be viewed as whiny or bitter by not progressing in a manner sufficient to those that disbelieve our stories, or those that simply don’t care?

I am a product of a group of individuals who cared nothing for religion, nothing for god, and least of all, nothing for their children. A group of individuals who not only allowed, but condoned, some of the most obscene abuse of young children; sexually, physically and mentally. I am a product of individuals who wanted nothing more in life than to belong to a family; a spin off of some form of the hippie lifestyle, where there was no responsibility other than to preach the world of their god.

What do I mean specifically, you ask? Well, keep in mind there is only so much I can write in the little space provided to me by Facebook. However, we were raised to believe the world owed those of us who gave all and “forsook all” for the purpose of preaching the gospel. I can’t exactly tell you what gospel, only that it made sense to the individuals preaching it at the time.

The things were given up for the “higher calling” in life usually consisted of clothes, shoes, food, safety and simple necessities; only to have others provide it to us out of the goodness of their hearts. In addition, we gave up our childhood to provide for our parents and other random adults. If that still was not enough, we gave up our sexuality. Children were used as sex toys for the perverse. Children were used as money-making machines. Children were used as sympathy tools to enable adults comforts in life. In short, children were abused to an extent so unbelievable, that I have dedicated my life to prosecuting such offenses.

Some may argue with me, but only those who categorically deny any wrong-doing on the part of the Family International; others are entirely too weak to face these atrocities head on and do something to change it. Others may feel it is simply not worth the risk. Whatever the excuse may be, one has to question, what exactly are we afraid of? The only response given by members who are active in this group are: “Get over yourself,” and, “You’re just bitter,” or, “We have always loved you, why don’t you accept our love?” These responses, of course, are insufficient when facing a reality that will follow me for the rest of my life. I will never trust men the way that others do; I will never trust people who engross themselves in religion; I will simply never justify any actions of my parents, their colleagues, and any other person who backs the same lifestyle; nor will I trust any religion, period. They should be tried by a jury of their peers, and convicted of the atrocious crimes they have committed, then sentenced to the maximum extent of the law.



By Karen Summers.

Ugh, That feeling

Do you ever have a sick feeling in your stomach? And I don't mean from alcohol, drugs or bad sex. The feeling of being fascinated with a total liar.

Recently, my heart skipped a beat with him, my eyes were brighter and everything was happy and exciting. How fascinating was he. But, whenever I asked him if he wanted to go out, then he rejected the idea altogether. Last night, he said yes to going out. So, I as stupid as ever, decided to put make up on, dress up nice and wish for a good night. But, it did not come, now did it? He calls to tell me that he isn't showing up and that he is "so confused" about some situation in which I have no idea.

I sit on my chair for awhile, thinking to myself 'why lead me on, if you never wish to see me?' Yet, how can he help it? He's just a douche bag.


Farewell.

Louisiana The Whore

The sights and smells are the same as before. I am feeling toasty with my snugly toes and happy drinks. I have been doing a lot of GED these days, because I plan on going to LSUS (a University close by).

But, right now I am concentrating on this television show and the taste of cigars just sitting in my mouth. I was trying to be brave, trying to be manly and smoke a cigar, but it was disgusting and strong and pasty. I want to murder this taste in my mouth before it's too late.

I recently volunteered at the local "Humane Society" for every Monday and Friday. It is very sad because I want to adopt all the animals, but I can't. So, I will give the animals the best life they can while I volunteer.





auf Wiedersehen.

Botanical Gardens

Hans Von Strudel

All I know is that I love my car. He is beautiful and green and pooped on from birds at this moment. But you know what? I don't even care! All I know is that he is mine and we have been driving together as lovers..

Check him out, but not too much because he's shy.