the Life and Times of Miss Madison

It always seems that Hanford isn't where my sister and I belong. My father planted us here because his mother grew up here and went to church here. In fact, we had went to the same church she went to until he allowed my mother to leave the church because she wasn't happy. He wanted my sister and I to attend  the same high school--it wasn't God's perfect will. My sister and I were pretty much treated as outcasts. The children made fun of us and even my own best friend made fun of us too. We just didn't fit in. We didn't have very many friends--in fact we only had one. I often wondered what life would be like if my dad granted my mother's request to put us in Christian schools. Growing up, I didn't want that, but looking back, I wish I did although it wouldn't make any difference. Finding jobs were difficult for us, especially for my sister. While I was blessed somewhat to have a few short time jobs, no one gave my sister even a chance of an interv

I have a cat named Henry--I didn't name him, but my sister did. You see, what happened was  a dog mauled his and his brother's mother when they were very young--too young to be on their own and they they were born feral. My father took them and cared for them, but when they reached a certain age, they chose who they want. My mother, sister and I each named a kitten. It turned out that the kittens we named didn't pick us.My first cat didn't live long but he was precious to me and this Monday will mark nine years since a reckless driver ran him over--well, I'm not sure the driver was reckless, but it sure was odd for someone to drive down our residential street at 6 in he morning. Henry selected me shortly after his brother did so I owned two cats. A blessing, huh? Not really. Henry had problems--he had a weak mind and the demonic spirits that had attached themselves to my father easily swayed Henry to unacceptable behaviors. In short the first three years was a nig

As a novice author, I still have a lot to learn, but I'm thankful for the friends and the advice of other authors and editors who had guided me on   this path called writing. When I started out, I knew nothing but hiring editors and proofreaders--well, I did, but my thinking was "not everyone needs one" I was so sure that what I wrote was flawless that I didn't even bother looking for one. My  first book which was published by a unscrupulous publishing company, had mistakes and grammar errors all through out the book. I expected the company to edit my work since I was only getting a very small percentage for royalty. Not so. I went Indie after that and my dream to have a well known publisher accept my submission and publish my book slowly dwindled away. I have found that the only way  my books ca be published if I use a platform called CreateSpace.com. Yet I still couldn't afford an editor. Being unemployed, I was lost as to what to do. I had no finances to

No, I don't have Alzheimer, my mother does.  Although for a long time I didn't know this. I believe the disease was there when my father was alive but the disease had lain dormant. Why? I don't know, but the disease triggered in her brain soon after his death. Just recently, my sister told me it began shortly after she stopped going to the senior nutrition center All my life, I had this picture of healthy parents. I thought God would make sure none of my parents would  ever have Cancer or Alzheimer. I thought it would never happen to us! I'm sure many people thought that, but our (My sister and my  situation sis different. If you disagree feel free to comment below) My sister and I have never had a chance to leave home. I think that  it is because I had a mindset that kept me hostage. My sister had her reasons. My father made her an underpaid housekeeper and I went off to  college,  and going to find work where ever I can only to end up back home. After I graduated

Who is that girl who has given up on dating? All men play her and never are what they seem. Who is that girl who has finally met someone, but wasn't sure he was a Christian or not? But when she remembered he was related to a friend of hers, all doubts were moved? Then she disappeared or at least walked off to the hallway in view of others and me. She even gave her Bible away before she left, probably going after that man. Another man, an older man went to find out where she went. He came back and  told all that she was no where to be found. Please tell me who she is? Am I seeing myself? Or someone else? This my friend is not real for I woke up, feeling a little disappointed. I want to know who she is or represent.

Through out our lives, we gain friends and we lose them. We began making them at school We find someone who shares our interest, who can make us laugh and someone we confide in without the fear of  being judged. If we go to church, we make friends there or when we go to work. Just like a couple clicks, so do friends. In my own life, my very first friend was much like me: We were different but not in the same way. She was different because of her skin color. Her  father was a native American while her mother had German heritage yet was  a North American. I was different for other reasons yet this made us friends. She was the only friend I had. Through her, I learn what friend are or do and through her I also assumed that everyone should have one friend. That at least was the pattern in my own life. Many years later, I changed for the better while she grew more worldly. I am in no way a recluse although I may seem like one. I continue to have just one friend--actually I had two but it&

I am not hurt because kids in school made fun of me. I knew my sister and I didn't fit in-- we were different.  It was my mother's desire for us to attend a Christian School and I wondered what my life would be like, if we did. I saw a testimony one night that in a way reminded me of my sister and I. His mother made a decision that affected his and his sibling's life negatively. The Children made fun of because he was fat and ugly (I think he used the word "Ugly"). He said he used to pretend he was invisible. As I watched how his life played out, I wondered how his life would be if his mother thought of her kids and not of herself. My father was the same way. My grandmother grew up in Hanford and so my father wanted us to go to the same high school and schools his mother went to (even the same church). My mother call that Ancestry Worship. My mother's request was denied and we were put into public schools. My sister and I had different types of disabilities:

A thought occurred to me that maybe I was going through a Princess Syndrome, but I looked it up and found it wasn't me. At least to my knowledge it's not. The reason why I thought that after my surgery, after having the tumor removed, I saw for two reason myself as a princess. 1) I had lost weight and was able to wear the dress I have always wanted to wear since I bought it. I looked good in it!  It made me feel beautiful. 2) In the support group I was in, the hospital was referred to the castle and those of us who had a hysterectomy considered themselves a princess. After my Hysterectomy, I was somewhat spoiled. Since I couldn't do much during my recovery, I was waited on. I didn't have to go shopping, I didn't have to do the dishes or any work. All I needed to do was rest and take it easy. But I knew it wouldn't last. I began desiring someone to take care of me and since I felt like a princess, I wanted a prince. No  not a real life prince like Prince Harry

All my life I have been dependent on others for rides. I've never liked bothering people if they can take me to church or any other places, but that is my life. When I was younger, much younger, I wasn't able to get my license at 16 or 17 because I didn't remind my father for the money for my permit---yes, I forgot and I guess it was my duty to remind him. I am only saying this because I am sure you would think so.  As I got older, I had opportunities. I got my permit and asked people other than my father to teach me how to drive--they did, but each of them cut short so I never made it as far as taking the test. I used to have a bicycle, but I got tired of fixing flats that it wasn't worth keeping so I junked it and it turned out to be another man's treasure. I was believing for bigger and better transportation, but it hasn't happened yet so I continued to depend on people for rides. Not only that, but I took the bus more often than I like. You may have seen m

If there was an "us", you would have more time for me as you did before. If there was an "us", you wouldn't hesitate to call me and you would call when you say you would. If there was  an "us", you would do everything in your power to come and see me instead of saying "In The Lord's Timing". Although we want the Lord;s timing, it wouldn't be a cover in saying why you can't come to see me. If there was an "us",  you would be here now, spending every moment with me. If there was an "Us,"  there would be no heartache and no tears, but joy and happiness, but.. There was no us. I was an option and not a priority. You kept the truth from me so you can have a girlfriend on the side. You cheated on your wife and lied to me. There was no us because as each day passed, our time together had become less and less. It was not as it used to be. I should have listened to the voice that told me the truth instead of thin

Several months ago, I accepted a friend request on Facebook. I had my misgiving but I thought if 8 of my friends accepted him, why not. For less than a month I did not send him any messages. I just treated him like all my other friends on Facebook. In late October, I asked a question in which he commented. I really wished I had checked him out instead of leaping into unknown territory, but instead I acted on a thought: Is he the one? I could have saved myself so much heartache if I didn't acted on it. I sent him a message asking him if he had someone special in his life. I think I should have suspected something when he hesitated to answer. "No...why...?" was all I remember from that. The next thing I knew we were chatting with each other and sharing "Jesus" with each other. We both were in tuned with each other. One day, I went to his wall to post a  little message. Again a warning I did not heed. I started too, but when I remembered him telling him that his

I have debated whether I should share this in my writing post, but it is mostly about me. Ugh. About me.  Recently I had a dream which made me do some thinking: Maybe I had made it all about me and not all about God. I give him all the glory for what He has done in 2013, but the year could have been better for me. I could have sold many books instead of writing 3 books which no one wants to buy or download.  I don't want a repeat performance this year and therefore I did some praying and thinking. "Who am I writing for me and why do I write?" The hardest part in the whole year is watching other people  post about how their books are doing  while mine isn't doing anything. I began to question my gift as my boyfriend puts it. Or what is it doubting it? I try not to get discourage and let em get down. It's not that I think I am a terrible author, but that others thinks I am. Well, maybe not. They don't like romance or they do think I stink. (Laughs). I had a fe