There’s another answer. Before 1 was adopted my poss1ble mother had my 1Q tested.  1 scored 142. And  1 was only 3. She adopted me expect1ng me to grow up to be a r1ch and famous bus1ness woman. 1 am 1nstead a starvng art1st. L1terally! When 1t comes to art, photography and poetry my mnd 1s amazng. When 1t comes to bus1ness 1 have the 1Q of a br1ck wall. Try as 1 mght 1 can not even beg1n to fgure out how to get my amazng art beyond my front door. 1 also can not begn to fgure out how to advocate for myself. After 20 years searchng ths town and 2 on the net all 1 have found 1s people w1llng to rele1ve my bank account of the meager SS1 and my granddaughter’s Welfare. 22 years and all 1 could f1nd 1s people to put me down, call me names and steal from me. So you see our mnds just work completely dfferently. Now 1f only 1 could th1nk how to get help or some k1nd of sponsorsh1p. That would be a wonderful 1Q.

I was once called a blonde haired, blue-eyed, long-legged movie star; but, I never felt pretty and still don’t. I am more comfortable with my other attributes, kindness, generousity, courteous, giving, helpful, integrity.

She loves me. She loves me not. She loves me…

What a perspective! Here I am complaining because being a nobody for me means going hungry everyday. Struggling with blisters and calluses included to survive while continuously hearing how lazy I am and how I could acheive anything I wanted if only I was willing to work for it. How dare I be so ungrateful for having free reign to die of nothingness in complet anonymity. To think that I am so unhappy about never going anywhere except the grocerystore or other basic needs (i.e. toilet paper) store. That I would envy other people’s vacations while I feed off of vacation memories three decades old.  Want to trade lives?  

Big dots, little dots. Who doesn’t love polka dots?

Boy the trouble us sleepwalkers get into.

Every rose has its thorns. The question one must ask themselves is: "Are the thorns worth it?"

Poetry is our hearts and soul. It is our swan song. It is our very autobiography’s. And for a very few of us it is the very essence of our brains. It is how we think. For us it is how we see the world. We see it in a complex net of metaphores and descriptives. We can not see it any other way; because, we understand the interconnectedness of all things. Those that write seperately, unconnected, their words are as cymbals in the hands of monkeys. Nothing but the crashings of untamed rants. There is no true love, no passion, no flow to their words. Their words paint pictures for noone but themselves.  The true poet can not lay their poetry down to be picked up later. Their words shimmer, glimpses of rare jewels  in the most unexpected of places. These are the poets who must be sought out. Whose works must be zealously found and bought then greedily lapped up and horded to the heart. These are the ones whose priceless words keep the art alive. For it is truely an art. Alas, sweet longing to one such as that. Unknown poet that I am.

Who cares! It’s time we stopped being fixated on the outside and payed attention to what really counts. It is a man’s character that is important. I say if he is good, kind, compassionate, understanding and wise then he is worthy of leadership.

I’ve never had to opportunity to host a dinner party or any kind of entertainment. But when I do some day these are the things I will keep in mind:

1. Make sure the guests I invite are compatible.

2. Find out before hand what kinds of food, drinks and music my guests prefer.

3. Listen, listen, listen. This is their time to shine.

4. No heavy drinkers allowed. I myself prefer not to drink. and I do not like drunks.

5. Make childcare availble in another part of the house. If my granddaughter can’t come neither can I. For me paying for childcare is not an option. I do not want an evening of fun to be only for those who can ‘afford it’.

7. Point out bathrooms making sure they are well stocked before hand. Let guests know which rooms are off limits and which are not.

8. Have fun.

Thank you, Rocky. I by occupation I am an artist, photographer and poet. When I write as my true self it seems that I strike a chord in people that no amount of facts or figures can. I am a lousy advocate for myself and others when I write from a fact, need based postion. And sometimes I think that because I have not had the opportunity to publish my writings or show my arts that I need to stay on a road that is not mine. I think that in the future as the inspirition strikes I will let it flow rather than quashing it as I usually do. Perhaps you will get more glimpses of my true unedited thoughts in future inputs.

Absolutely! If I ever remarry I want to love the guy; but, I’m not carrying his weight. Marriage is a 50/50 deal. If he plans on giving me a lower cut then I’ll cut him - right out of my life.

Oh, how right you are James. Don’t you know us poor folk are also uneducated, lazy, slovenly and lousy parents. So why would anyone want to marry us?