RIP #9

Unbelievable.

Hurt

I hurt myself today,
to see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain,
the only thing that’s real.
The needle tears a hole,
the old familiar sting.
Try to kill it all away,
but I remember everything.

What have I become?
My sweetest friend.
Everyone I know,
goes away in the end.
And you could have it all,
my empire of dirt.

I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.

I wear this crown of thorns,
upon my liar’s chair.
Full of broken thoughts,
I cannot repair.
Beneath the stains of time,
the feelings disappear.
You are someone else.
I am still right here.

What have I become?
My sweetest friend.
Everyone I know,
goes away in the end.
And you could have it all,
my empire of dirt.

I will let you down.
I will make you hurt.

If I could start again,
a million miles away.
I would keep myself.
I would find a way.

–Trent Reznor

Tell ‘Em That It’s Human Nature

Death always seems to bring out the best and the worst in people.

Whether it be within the close confines of the family circle who loses a loved one or the large populace of a nation who loses their leader, death can either draw hearts together or rip bonds apart.

Most assuredly, this past week has brought to light a broad spectrum of emotions from virtually millions of fans, non-fans, and observers alike who have an opinion about Michael Jackson.  I have read every sort of comment ranging from a proclamation that he was led to Jesus 3 weeks ago (”saved”) by Andrae’ & Sandra Crouch* to someone literally stating that they knew he was suffering today in the flames of Hell.

Then there are the smug remarks by some who can’t understand why so many would have such strong feelings about someone they’ve never met, or why more emphasis isn’t put on the true heroes who have really given to others.

Gosh, it seems that nobody can win, doesn’t it?  What comes to mind is that you can please some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time.

That’s just human nature, isn’t it?

In a perfect world, each and every person who deserves recognition based on their amount of sacrifice would get it pound for pound…but then again, the ones who are giving for the right reasons usually don’t really care about being praised anyway, so it’s a moot point.

However, what really concerns me — once again — is the attitude I continue to witness time and time again from my very vocal Christian brothers and sisters who loudly proclaim their righteous involvement in their churchiness week after week, and yet when the first occasion shows itself for them to judge another person’s worthiness, they will be ALL over it like white on rice.

God knows that I am so far from righteous that for me to even try to sit here and attempt to type a rebuke is a joke…and yet, I feel very strongly compelled to at least call things out as I see them.  My intent is in a spirit of love — to encourage us all to reach higher, to choose better — even if I may fail at expressing it in that way at times.

Here’s the real deal:

The love of God is greater far
than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
and reaches to the lowest hell.

Perhaps I am idealistic — you may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one — and yeah, my capacity for hope almost knows no bounds…there have been times in my life that hope was ALL I had…maybe that’s why I see somebody with such a childlike idealism like Michael Jackson had and I do feel sad that the world has lost that light.  Read the lyrics to “Heal The World” wherein he urges us to be God’s glow–brilliant.

Do not misunderstand me, I am fully aware of the man’s frailties.  I know he made poor decisions…don’t we all?  His were shouted from the rooftops and magnified by his millions of dollars.  There but for the grace of God go I!  However, I do not believe he was a child molester.   Here’s why:

When I was a peon in the music business, I had people trying to befriend me, just because of the other peons I knew to try and get to higher up peons to try to get to possible higher ups, and maybe — just maybe — on down the line, get to an artist.  That was just my case, a total and complete nobody.

Do you not think the biggest star this planet has ever known had hundreds of leeches trying to latch onto him every single day…extortionists trying to constantly get money or whatever else they could out of him?

Those leeches would use whatever they could to get to him – even their children.

Those leeches finally sucked the spirit of Michael Jackson dry.

Those around him said he was never the same after the child molestation trial.  I watched a defense attorney being interviewed — who had no vested interest to do so — in tears as he talked about what a broken man Michael Jackson became as he was falsely accused, misinterpreted, and maligned.

You may ask why I feel the need to defend a man I never met.  I can only answer that the passion I feel about loving the “unlovable” in the eyes of the mainstream church runs so deep within my veins that I can’t help but speak out.  I cannot be silent when I watch people who are not your typical white, Protestant, evangelical, straight, American be maligned just because they are different.   There is still an arrogance present that is as filthy rags.  It stinks.  It’s disgusting.

Just like our own righteousness without the love of God — remember?

“The hardest people to reach with the love of God are not the bad people. They know they are bad. They have no defense. The hardest ones to win for God are the self-righteous people.” –Charles L. Allen

I had breakfast this morning with one of my closest friends.  Something we talked about was how when we were growing up in the church, we were taught how broken as people we are.  Condemnation, restrictions, and everything we were not allowed to do or be.  Just like I said above, our righteousness is as filthy rags…without the love of God.

So, shouldn’t we be striving everyday to live out the balance of knowing we are nothing without the love of God and yet everything because of the love of God — and so is that hooker down on the street corner downtown?  And the person sitting in the pew who hasn’t had a shower in 3 days?  And that pastor of the mega-church on the hill?  And the guy at the prison sitting on death row?  And the President?  And Britney Spears?  And that homeless guy at the McDonalds on Broadway?  And me?  And you?  And Michael Jackson?

*Updated to add:  Andrae’ and Sandra Crouch have addressed the rumor here.

Michael Jackson: Gone Too Soon

June 25, 2009 is a day I will never forget.

It began with the news that Farrah Fawcett lost her long battle with cancer. The courage she showed publicly throughout her treatment, remission, and recurrence was truly an inspiration.

My favorite Angel is now truly an angel.

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As I went on about an incredibly stressful day, I did a double-take as I read a tweet on my phone that Michael Jackson had been rushed to UCLA Medical Center in cardiac arrest.

Cardiac arrest?!?

I, as I am sure many others, thought surely it wasn’t possible that we could lose two icons the very same day.  Still, I immediately turned on CNN and logged onto my TweetDeck to keep apprised of the breaking news updates.

Sidenote:  By the way, have I mentioned that I’m a news buff?  Also, I just want to say that so far there hasn’t been one time that I haven’t gotten breaking news via Twitter at least 30-45 minutes ahead of the major news outlets, and have been able to keep my friends and family informed when they couldn’t be near a TV or radio.  Naysayers, keep hating, but you’re the ones behind the curve.

Meanwhile, the tweets coming in were not encouraging…the family was saying that he was not in good shape.  I didn’t have a good feeling at all.

Then the heart-wrenching tweet broke:

RT @BreakingNews: FLASH — LOS ANGELES — “KING OF POP” MICHAEL JACKSON HAS DIED.

Call me a drama queen…I really don’t care…but I broke down and bawled.

No, I never met Michael Jackson.  Never got near the man.  Yet, he affected my generation so profoundly not only because of his artistry and amazing body of work, but for his humanitarian efforts — We Are The World.  I learned tonight that Michael Jackson headed up more than 36 different humanitarian charities, not the least of which was USA for Africa and more recently charities benefiting the families of 9/11 victims.

Consider this from Sony Music:

Five of Jackson’s solo albums – “Off the Wall,” “Thriller,” “Bad,” “Dangerous” and “HIStory,” all with Epic Records, a Sony Music label – are among the top-sellers of all time. During his extraordinary career, he sold an estimated 750 million records worldwide, released 13 No.1 singles and became one of a handful of artists to be inducted twice into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The Guinness Book of World Records recognized Jackson as the Most Successful Entertainer of All Time and “Thriller” as the Biggest Selling Album of All Time. Jackson won 13 Grammy Awards and received the American Music Award’s Artist of the Century Award.

Michael Jackson started in the music business at the age of 11 with his brothers as a member of the Jackson 5. In the early 1980s, he defined the art form of music video with such ground-breaking videos as “Billie Jean,” “Beat It” and the epic “Thriller.” Jackson’s sound, style and dance moves inspired subsequent generations of pop, soul, R&B and hip-hop artists.

Since the beginning of time, every age has had their musical prodigies.   Those so extraordinary that, while alive, the audience may have stood in applause, but only generations later would the magnitude of their influence truly be known — King David, Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, Gershwin, Sousa, Lennon/McCartney, Jackson…

Nobody walking this planet today can understand what Michael Jackson experienced in his life.  We cannot judge, because we did not know his fame.  The only others who have known his brand of fame — that would be Elvis and Princess Diana — are dead…gone too soon.  Therefore, I just don’t believe we have a right to judge why he felt the need to change his body, or wear a mask, or the other unconventional things he did.  He seemed to be a man trying desperately to reach back and find the child inside that he was robbed of.  He was acquitted of the heinous charges perpetrated against him in a court of law, therefore if there was any truth whatsoever to any of the allegations — which, personally I do not believe there was — it will be taken care of by the Ultimate Judge.  Period. Over.

Tonight, I am sad that the world has lost a talented and generous soul in Michael Jackson.  What a tremendous loss for the world, but more so…what a terrible loss for the Jackson family and his three young children.

May he now rest in peace.

Daddy’s Hands

I would like to wish all dads out there a Happy Father’s Day. This post was originally published on June 14, 2008. I pulled it from my “Best of” archives because I believe it best expresses my thoughts and emotions this day. –Ginger

I have to admit that Father’s Day is rough for me.

It has been 16 17 years since the day he died, and every Father’s Day since puts me into a funk. As I’ve posted before, my Daddy was precious to me…I was definitely “Daddy’s Little Girl.” When I see Amanda and her dad interact, it sometimes takes me back to when I was her age and I can see how she adores him just as much as I adored my Daddy. I am thankful for the fond memories he left me to cherish for the rest of my life.

Other than to say that, I just don’t have a whole lot else to say about Father’s Day, but I do want to share the lyrics to the song that so profoundly spoke to me during the time when I was planning Daddy’s funeral.

I’m not really sure why, but I’m the type of person that has to face extremely painful situations alone. When it was time for the visitation, I knew that I couldn’t deal with seeing my dad in a casket for the first time with a bunch of people around me. I decided that I would go to the funeral home earlier that afternoon and spend some alone time with him.

When the funeral director took me to the parlor, I just couldn’t believe how he looked. He didn’t even look like my Daddy. They had blow-dried his hair when my dad still used “grease” (well, it was Vitalis…he was old school!) so it just didn’t look right. Plus, with the trauma his body went through in the wreck, well…I’m afraid there just wasn’t a whole lot they could’ve done to make him look like he was “just sleeping.” It was at that moment that I decided that except for family who might want to see him beforehand, the casket would be closed for the public. He wouldn’t want to be remembered that way.

However, the one thing that was still Daddy were his hands. Those weathered, dark tan hands with the grease still embedded in the lines and creases of his skin from years of working on cars for a living. I will never forget those hands.

After spending a few more moments alone with him, I immediately went to a store to buy picture frames to put pictures around his casket (including the one above) so that his friends would remember him the way he should be. Then I went to the record store and bought a tape of this song, and played it the next day for his funeral.

To this day, I still cannot listen to it all the way through without breaking down in tears…but I have come to treasure these words so much because I will always love Daddy’s Hands…

I remember Daddy’s hands
Folded silently in prayer
And reaching out to hold me
When I had a nightmare
You could read quite a story
In the callouses and lines
Years of work and worry
Had left their mark behind

I remember Daddy’s hands
How they held my Mama tight
And patted my back
For something done right
There are things I’ve forgotten
That I loved about the man
But I’ll always remember
The love in Daddy’s hands

Daddy’s hands
Were soft and kind when I was cryin’
Daddy’s hands
Were hard as steel when I’d done wrong
Daddy’s hands
Weren’t always gentle but I’ve come to understand
There was always love in Daddy’s hands

I remember Daddy’s hands
Working ’til they bled
Sacrificed unselfishly
Just to keep us all fed
If I could do things over
I’d live my life again
And never take for granted
The love in Daddy’s hands

Daddy’s hands
Were soft and kind when I was cryin’
Daddy’s hands
Were hard as steel when I’d done wrong
Daddy’s hands
Weren’t always gentle but I’ve come to understand
There was always love in Daddy’s hands

Daddy’s hands
Were soft and kind when I was cryin’
Daddy’s hands
Were hard as steel when I’d done wrong
Daddy’s hands
Weren’t always gentle but I’d come to understand
There was always love ………… in Daddy’s hands

You can listen to it here:

*Written by Holly Dunn

I’m Back…and…When We Were (Con)FAB…

Howdy!  I’m baaaaaaack!!!

Taking a blog hiatus has been a good thing for me.  I was beginning to feel some sort of self-imposed pressure to post something every day and it was becoming a drudgery rather than enjoyable like it’s supposed to be.

Also, I was feeling like…who wants to read me bitch about being unemployed every other day? So I went to Facebook and Twitter to do that (lucky YOU, Facebook friends and Twitter followers!) 

And…I have been fighting some serious depression through all of this, and there have been days I barely could get out of bed save for my responsibilities as a mother (thank goodness for that…it’s kept me among the land of the living some days!).

So anyway, back to business…let’s update on The Job Situation™ shall we?

Ahhh, June.  No, I still do not have a job.  Yes, I have have applied to at least 100 jobs (a conservative estimate), and yes, I have had some promising interviews, but no, I still have not gotten a job.

As a matter of fact, yesterday I received an e-mail wherein I was told that although the company was very impressed with me, they made the decision to hire from within.  It was another one of those jobs that I was very, very hopeful about.

Some days I feel that what I thought was a stellar career was just an illusion.  I thought I was smart…I seem to have had great common sense…to be sure, I would work my butt off to help anyone from the CEO to the janitor.  So what is up with this?

It’s the same thing with dating.  I think I’m a pretty good catch.  While I do have a few curves on me that could stand to be slimmed down, I don’t think I’m that heinous to look at.  I’m sweet, I’m loyal, I’ve been told I’m a good kisser, and most importantly, a great mother and a good friend.

So…am I living out this play like “The Truman Show” where everyone knows something I don’t?  Do I have a third eye in the back of my head that the entire rest of the world can see, but nobody will tell me about?  Do I really suck as an employee, and even though I have glowing letters of recommendation and letters of good standing with each employer, am I secretly being blackballed?

What the heck is going on?   Meh…

I have a good friend who is on month 11 of no job.  He is a Marketing genius.   I have a girlfriend who, after 9 months of unemployment, finally found a job a couple of weeks ago, and the stories go on and on…

My severance has long ran out, and I am living on a minimal amount of unemployment and child support.  I am still finding things around the house to sell here and there.  It has been rewarding to find creative ways to find income and sell things that I no longer need.

However, as a single mother, I seriously do not know what I would be doing without the generosity of my dear friends, family members, people who have reconnected with me after years, and even total strangers who have read my blog…who have sent me checks, grocery gift cards, messages of encouragement, offered to mow my lawn…I could go on and on.  I am beginning to feel like one of those televangelists on TV…”we may lose our home next month, so for a small gift, I will sing you a song and speak in tongues for you!”

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Moving on to some fun and frivolity!!!!

Some months ago, my friends Turnbaby and Mr. Fab decided they would have a big ‘ol blogger shindig up at their place, Bliss Manor, and call it ConFab, Baby!  Because I didn’t get to go to TequilaCon thanks to the unemployment sitch, but ConFab was certainly feasible…it was less than a tank of gas away!

To say that I am happy I went would be an extreme understatement!  I met Janelle in Bowling Green and we tag-teamed our way to the Promised Land where I got to meet so many of you wonderful blogger buddies from all over the country and even my favorite Dutchie from across the pond!

We started the weekend on Friday night in style by hitting the bowling ally where there was some kickin’ Karaoke happening.  Isn’t that giant ball inviting?

We all had a blast. Turnbaby was awesome, Karl kept leaving gifts (that kept on giving), I insulted the gods of Karaoke, and Marty did the Copacabana. It was a rockin’ good time!

The next day, I was thrilled to be joined by my favorite demented pal, Ron, to attend the party…and what a party it was!  There was a pirate, a Hawaiian girl (the blogger formerly known as Clearly Crystal!), tattoos, flamingo love…and I think I even spotted Wynonna…and holy Alien-ass-kicking, Batman!…it’s Sigourney Weaver…

Lemme tell you, there was some kind of major spread of wonderful food (hello!  bacon-wrapped tater tots!) and beverage, great conversation, many old friends reunited, new friends made…and a good time was had by all.  Oh, and I tried some genuine good ole Kentucky Moonshine for the very first time in my entire life!  It tasted like… turpentine.  Smooth turpentine.

The weekend was the shot in the arm I needed to be refreshed and rejuvanated from a half-year of a lot of stuff dragging me down. I am SO glad I went, and I want to thank Mr. Fab and Turnbaby for opening their home to all of us…and all of the amazing bloggers I met over the weekend who made me feel like so welcome, even though I had not met any but 3 of them ever! I hope to see you all again at the big Halloween Bash of this notorious guy who I was SO happy to finally meet…

There are many, many re-caps of ConFab, Baby!  Here’s a list…if you do not see yours listed, leave a comment and I will be sure to add yours:  Blogography, Laci, Sodapop, LeSombre, Midnight Cliff, I’m The Loud Friend, Hilly, Miss Britt, Marty, Shiny, Avitable, Coal Miner’s Granddaughter, Janelle, Metal Mom, Shelli, Lynda, DutchBitch, Sheila, Jill, Monique, and many more!

We Interrupt This Hiatus to Bring You This Message…

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That was the best American Idol finale show ever.

The guy sang with KISS. KISS, folks.

On Hiatus

GingerSnaps will be on hiatus until further notice.

Thanks for reading!

Love,

GingerSnaps

Feel Good Friday: Celebrating the Swine

Flu or not, I believe this Piggy will definitely SURVIVE…

More Feel Good Friday with Amber (debuting her new blog!), jane q. public, Rachel, Frank from Left of the Dial, LeBlanc, monstermash40, Jim Voorhies, Ron,  newscoma, Mack, Left Wing Cracker, Concrete Artist (welcome to the FGF fold!), Aunt B, and many more!

Stress: It Does a Body Bad

To be sure, 2009 has been a year of “realization” for me.  With as many tragedies and triumphs I have experienced in my 42 years, I have always been able to handle the stress somewhat successfully.  Although when my father was killed, I held in my anguish because I had work and other responsibilities to handle.  It finally came to the point where my physical body wouldn’t allow me to hold all of that pain inside, and I began to have panic attacks about 6 months after he died (which were resolved thanks to a wonderful counselor who helped me with the grieving process).

Even though I am pretty outspoken about what’s on my mind, I still hold in stress by tightening up my insides and clenching my teeth whenever a bad memory or stressful situation rears its ugly head.

I should have learned the lesson that stress takes a toll on your body back when things got tough early in my marriage, and it manifested itself by my heart developing a condition called PACs (premature atrial contractions)…where the atrial part of my heart would jump-the-gun and beat a split second too early.  An arrthymia that got so bad, it would sometimes stop me in my tracks when my heart felt like it would literally jump out of my chest trying to regain its rhythm. Funny that I had that condition throughout the rest of my marriage, but it mysteriously disappeared the year of my divorce.

Well, obviously I haven’t exactly had a stellar 2009 with losing my job, having such a difficult time finding a new job, dealing with Amanda’s illness, a couple of other personal situations, and just generally trying to keep my head above water.

So why should it surprise me that last Friday I woke up with severe pain in my stomach.  I had heartburn that felt like knives slicing from my stomach up to my throat.   I took some Pepcid.  Didn’t do a thing.  Tums.  Might as well been Sweet Tarts.  Mylanta. No relief.

Finally, it got so bad that it felt like I would throw up.  (Amanda was off school last Friday for a teacher’s work day, so she was home through this, and she has a phobia to anything related to throwing up, so this scared her.)

I had her go to her room, while I made my way to the toilet.  I started coughing up tons of acid, when all of the sudden it all came out bloody.  I kept spitting up blood, and finally threw blood up from my stomach.  (That was actually a relief, as it confirmed that the blood was not coming from my lungs.)

Once I got through that episode, I got to my phone and called my doctor to ask them what I should do.  The nurse told me to go to the Emergency Room immediately.

So I tried not to alarm Amanda too much, but told her to get her shoes on, we needed to go to the hospital.  I was afraid I didn’t have enough time to find arrangements for her, so I drove and tried to stay calm even though I was terrified.  I don’t think I managed to hide my fear too well, as a couple of friends’ voicemails I left them will attest to.

Once I got to the ER, I had to “strongly pursuade” the front desk attendant that this was a true emergency and I needed attention immediately.  (I mean…who knew if I wasn’t bleeding internally this entire time…by this time, I was light headed!)

I finally was examined, and tended to by one of the wonderful nurses I used to assist back when I worked at the hospital.  She was so amazing throughout this ordeal.

Meanwhile, I had texted my friend, Pamela Furr, who was heading to Huntsville but immediately turned her car around and met me at the ER.  What a GREAT friend she is.  Especially when Amanda’s father was too busy to come and tend to our daughter.  Pamela walked her around, took her to get a bite to eat, and generally made sure her mind was put at ease.  She then delayed her trip to spend the night with Amanda until she could go to her soccer game!  At that point, her friend’s parents (who are my friends, too!) took Amanda in as their very own the entire time I was in the hospital.  I am SO blessed with amazing friends…and my gratitude is deeper than mere words can express.

I was x-rayed, shown to have no major abnormalities, given drugs and discharged…but then I tried to get up and walk out of the hospital to excrutiating pain — even being on Morphine.

A second doctor examined me and decided to admit me into the hospital for further testing.

I went through poking, prodding, an upper GI, and finally an upper endoscopy — 4 days in the hospital.

Diagnosis:  inflammation, irritation, and swelling in my esophagous and stomach (esophagitis & gastritis), but thankfully no ulcers.

I was discharged late yesterday afternoon, and am now dealing with looking like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man until I can get the 4 days of IV fluids they pumped into my body flushed out.

So now I have medicine I have to take daily to help control the acid being produced in my stomach.

Which…hmmmm…I wonder what is causing my stomach to produce excessive amounts of acid.

Could it be stress?

Yes, I believe with all my heart that this was a major wake-up call from my body.  I simply cannot continue to deal with the bullshit that life and other people have thrown at me for years in the same way I have in the past.  I cannot allow myself to hurt so deeply when people are assholes to me.  That’s the way it is.  Plain and simple.

As Daddy used to tell me, “You’ve gotta let things roll off your back.”

I am going to be learning some new stress management techniques and taking better care of this body.

I’m the only me I’ve got, and nobody else is going to take care of me.  It’s up to me.

I’m on the mend, and I’ve got one thing to say…

TOWANDA!!!!

Wherein I Return to Radio…

Internet radio, that is.

Tomorrow night I will be appearing on Secondhand Radio with infamous host, Karl, of Secondhand Tryptophan!  I am so excited to be a guest on my first internet radio talk show…and what is even MORE exciting is that my good friend, radio talk show host, Pamela Furr, will be joining me!

Did I mention that Pamela is a conservative radio talk show host?

This is going to be the internet version of Hannity & Combs…except we are much cuter!

Who knows what topics we’ll cover and what will happen…if anything, you can listen to us reminisce about our days as hellions in a certain church choir that shall remain nameless.  Yes, it’s true…we would actually skip out on the church service after we sang to go on road trips to watch the Atlanta Braves play.  Or the time we went to Memphis to see Elvis and then to Tunica…before it had even one hotel there.

But I doubt we’ll get to that…there are too many other issues to deal with like the economy, if Perez Hilton has given gay pride a bad name, or who’s going to win American Idol.  You know…the important stuff!  You will definitely want to call in and join the discussion!

Secondhand Radio is on Thursday night at 10pm Eastern, 9pm Central, 8pm Mountain, 7pm Pacific, or 2am GMT.  To listen, go here.

Please join us, won’t you?