(C) Copyright SNOWbear Productions. T h a n k Y o u F o r V i s i t i n g


I have placed my stories here on my Blog in bits and pieces and am collecting them on an offsite page as well.  This post is collecting those scribbles together.

Blog Refreshed

 I used the map Eriduah, that I drew for my fantasy epic: THE WATCHER's REQUIEM as the background piece for my Blog here.  I like how the text moves up and down over it.  Trying of a change.
This is the original map before I re-drew it on cloth which became the "official" version.



 I work with individuals with intellectual disabilities, (mentally retarded) at a State facility.  For seventeens years I have been in a direct care position assisting them with daily care needs: bathing, changes, dressing, ambulation or transfers from one seated surface to their wheelchair.  Tying shoes, buttoning shirts, putting on a clothing protector for meal time, preparing the meals, various textures of food and thicken drinks, doing dishes, laundry, going on excursions.  My duties and tasks have run the gambit.  As a direct care staff I was the backbone workhorse of the State School/ Living Center.  I love working with the "Individuals" (Residents, Clients, "persons served"); finding them just various fascinating aspects of the rest of the normal population.

   Seems my summer job became a career.  I'm making a lateral move into another department, Rehabilitation Tech II.  Though I will still be working in the very same facility, and on the same building (22A) the "job" will be vastly different for the first time in 17 years.  Life Skills is a "Workshop" area that strives on the most basic of levels to 'teach' through the diligence of repetition mundane activities upon which to build complex tasks.  I will be a Supervisor guiding the Direct Care Staff to carry out their daily programming tasks.  To be sure; the abilities of our profoundly impaired individuals is quiet limited.  The daunting task is "the diligence of repetition" when observable results are not seen.
   Staffing issues alone are a major hurdle to manage and re-direct but encouraging, assisting by example and being a leader is a challenge I've set before myself.  I went 17 years as a Direct Care staff, I know the secret excuse and tricks of evasion and I've worked and been and OJT trainer for nine years.  Being a Supervisors will certainly bring its on challenges, but I certainly wont forget where I came from either. The most important take away lesson I've learned in seventeen years: THE RESIDENT is always right, it's their HOME  and we... we are their Servants!!!  It is a very stressful place to work.  I hope my small contribution will "Make A Difference In People's Lives"

‘Happy, homelike atmosphere’
A visit to the Denton State School, the largest in Texas, reveals a sprawling campus spread across well-kept lawns. Superintendent Randy Spence described the place as a “happy, homelike atmosphere.”
“The vast majority of our employees love the people they work with,” said Cecilia Fedorov, another spokeswoman for the Department of Aging and Disability Services. “They think of them as extended family.”

My New ""Normal""

   I have a Mental Health Disorder; labeled "Bipolar".  Exemplified by grave mood swings and emotional bouts and manic depressive thoughts into the dark side. I know others that have been dealing with the manic side's horrific state for longer, and far worse than my experience.  Don't let that define you, they tell me; it's just a tag to categorized you into.  I take Lithium to level off the chemical imbalances in my brain.  Though I know far many more people who take more psychotropic drugs and for far longer than I have, I'm still sticking with the program. Don't let it define you, they tell me; it's just a medication you take to control your disorder.  Disorder.  My ORDER was always an illusion I can 'normal'.

   My new normal, AS A WAY OF SUMMERY UPDATE; so far, is becoming use to the medication - feeling numb.  If light drowsy, headed and dizzy, numb around the edges is my new normal I suppose I've got it made then.  No dry mouth, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, tremors, boils, hallucinations, no pill rolling, nor even any exaggerated movements - at this junction to report.

  So far, I've not cried or felt like weeping over old buried luggage that should remain discarded.  I am trying to "feel" again or least get use to feeling what "normal" is.  I... I've never been "normal" before.  I like being happy; trying to understand that one too.

   Don't let things define you; make your own path.  One neat thing is I thought I would not be able to write and develop a closure to my short stories; I think (I hope) I am becoming more focused to that end.


So, How do you feel?

So, how do you feel? I don't know, how am I suppose to feel? My head aches, whirling dizziness, thoughts on the edge of "I don't care" and feeling like I just woke up or edging toward passing out. "Feeling" is a subjected loaded question. I no longer feel like weeping or crying. Then again things are not hysterically amazing any more either. The rock bank Pink Floyd said, "comfortably numb" - that's how I feel, numb.

The Cup Bearer


 The King decided to pay a visit to all those held as prisoners deep within the hidden chambers of Varlendur one day and ask them for their stories.  “What is your name and why are you here,” He asked.
   “I am Dalmaric of Salvath and wrongly accused of killing the husband of my mistress.  It was not me but another man who did it, and I was blamed.” The king nodded as the jailer closed the small window on the door of his cell.  Dalmaric was discovered in the very act of beating his lover’s husband to death.
   “I am Futoras of Tolvol.  I was wrongly accused of stealing coins and goods from a house.  I was only trying to see if my neighbor was home when another saw me leave.”  The king nodded as the jailer closed the small window on the door of his cell.  The jailer informed the king, “He neglected to tell you sire that he killed the neighbor.”
   Going the third cell the man inside spat upon the king’s calm face and screamed, “I was wrongly thrown into this filthy pit of yours for raping women; I never did that, I only killed them.  Bardos of Harad’s word is good enough for civilized men.” The jailer was closing the window without waiting for the king’s nod.

   Going to the fourth door the jailer opened the small barred window.  Seeing no one he yell, “Step up and see the king.  Tell him your name and why you were placed here.”
   A moment later a woman appeared, “I am Lethrah of Lindol.  I was wrongly accused to thieving purses in the market square.  I say wrongly because my husband’s debts were outstanding and my son was caught holding my purses.”
   The king smirked as the jailer slowly closed the small window.  “She stabbed four men trying to detain, sire.” The jailer shook his head.
   Rapping on the fifth and final cell and calling the prisoner forth, the king listened once again.  A bearded man gave his reply, “I am Eiron, my lord; from the Port of Kalos.  I stole four loaves of bread, a basket of fish from the market to feed my family of eight children.  It was in taking a cloak that was hung out to dry that got me noticed; and drug before the magistrate who thought me worthless that I was cast into Varlendur, sire.  I did these things, my lord out of desperation and beg your forgiveness, sire.” Now all of this came from the man as his was kneeling before the closed door, after a report was demanded of him like the other prisoners.
   A slow smile came over the king’s face as he told the jailer, “Have this one here removed before he corrupts these other honest ones.” After the jailer opened the door, they saw the bearded man was still kneeling before the door.  The King told Eiron, “Rise up, you are freed.  A bag of coins and provisions will be given to you.  After two days with your family, they are to move here to Mithar.  On the third day I want to see you again, clean shaven as you will be my cup bearer – do you understand?”

  The tearful man stood, and said, “Yes my king.  May God be given all the praise for the mercy you have shown me today, mi lord.”


   There was a man named Jorvain sod-Leman who lived just outside the city of Lindol in a shanty village called Tolvol.  He was a painter by trade with a wonderful talent, wit and a man of great character.  One day Jorvain was stung by a bee and became very ill.  Near death was he.  His wife Shaymale went into Lindol to get a doctor; who in turn gave Jorvain a healing ointment.  Though the salve worked it produced a rash requiring yet another Shaman’s learning. In time Jorvain had one physician after another.  Whatever they cured left an aliment worse that the last affliction leaving the need for yet another treatment and healer to be called for.  For twelve long hideous years was Jorvain afflicted with rashes, boils, headaches and stomach bleedings; and a host of others illnesses requiring attention from learned men.  
   One day as Jorvain was working in his garden, picking herbs to dry for yet another treatment for him to try, a stranger came walking by.  He said, “Oh son of the field what ails you today that man has not cured?”
   Jorvain looked up from the sage-grass he was pulling, and feeling angry called back, “Has another nobody come by to poke fun me yet again? Be gone stranger, all your pleasures can be had for the right coin over in Lindol.” Pointing to the city walls behind him Jorvain went back to his garden.
   The unmoved stranger said, “I am Kyon the son of Nadan.  I shall give you a joy that none have granted before and it shall make you rejoice to the Heavens.  The lessons learned from your dealings with men shall pale by comparison.”
   Intrigued by such boasting Jorvain inquired of the wanderer, “Honey laced with snake oil? Shall I climb Mount Ipstha and pluck a flower?”
  “For twelve years your afflictions have seen bleedings, boils and unceasing headache, but today the lone Lord of Heaven shall wash all the learnings of men away.  Obey me in this with haste and do not delay to go to the River Luhun that feeds the great Bay of Mithar.  Beneath its waters shall you bathe.  Upon arising the third time you will venture to your wife, Lindol and then the Priest of Mithar and tell them all you know one greater than them.”
   Jorvain was stunned by such simplistic talk.  A bath.  He had taken many bathes before and questioned why this kind of bath should be any different.  He had no use for the priest of Mithar, nor did he have an interest in contacting them.  The physicians of Lindol were as much use as sea shells to him as well.  Though he loved her greatly his wife was a constant complainer against his outcries. 
   “Heed my words now, and obey,” Said the stranger, desiring not to be questioned as he looked sternly at Jorvain.  He dropped the bundle of his gatherings and turned to leave for the river.  Turning back around, to inquire if tomorrow’s morning start would be better, Jorvain saw that Kyon was nowhere to be seen.   Jorvain called to Shaymale he was running errands.

   By late afternoon Jorvain had come to the banks of the river Luhun, a half mile south of the bridge, which lead to the northwestern Iron Hills.  As he entered the waters to bathe several people gathered about at such a sight, for Lindol was renowned for its public tiled-baths.  They laughed at the man with bleeding boils, and called after him that they were glad he had not gone to the city after all.  Jorvain removed his shirt and went beneath the waters a second time.  A guard from the city walls called for him to be removed for they found the open sores on his back offensive.
  As Jorvain came up from the waters a third time the two guards splashed back out of the water in wonderment.  The crowds gasped in disbelief.  Even Jorvain himself was bewildered by what that had occurred.  Then for a fleeting moment Jorvain caught sight of Kyon om'Dan in the gathered crowd smiling back at him.  As the moving crowds gathered, the person of the Prophet was lost among them.
  Jorvain began laughing and shouting praise to God above and calling every doctor by name a fool.  He excitedly returned home to his beloved wife and told her everything.  He went to every physician of Lindol and finally to Mithar and their priest.  Many of the priest renewed their love for the Lone Lord and praised Him for Jorvain’s healing. Everyday for the rest of his life Jorvain praised God and told everyone eager or not to hear that sometimes simplistic faith carries more healing power than all the efforts of men.

My Pill Journey: *6


   ** My Pill Journey; Guess I will start on day 6 crafting my thoughts here.
   This is day six into my Lithium journey.  I started taking two 300 milligram tablets of Lithium yesterday, and I took two this morning.  I called yesterday for a little clarification but the Nurse at my doctor's office never returned my call.  I am suppose to begin taking four tablets tomorrow, Monday.

Okay. But how much is really the medication and how is my over worrisome active imagination; can't say.  Hyper-sensitively reading into everything. Feel I'm driving myself nuts trying not to go nuts. I know I need to just take it as it comes. Stressed.  Never taken meds before.  Never taken meds as powerful and "damaging" as this before either.  Physically (Day 6): I'm alright.  My stomachs rumbling; nervous about all this or just hungry? Coffee.  Not much of a breakfast person; had a banana with my two pills.  Seems like even that is changing.
  Starting on September 1st, with my new job as a Rehab Tech II, (a Supervisor at Life Skills workshop); the hours will be more stable: 8:oo AM to 5:oo PM.  My time for taking my med can at least be better regulated that's for sure now.  Funny, how we call them the "Pro-Staff" those who work in offices and have "regular hours".  Weird, thinking that I myself have become one of them; a "Professional Staff Member".  Strange how my job evolved into becoming my "career".


I'm not above sharing. I've a Mental Health issue; they call it "Bi-Polar", (glad it's not quad-folder; my short lived Highs are too high and my Lows edge into dangerous depression). I'm also ugly, but some folks still like me; LOL. I'm new to taking medication. Guess I will have to purchase one of those weekday pill boxes, mark off calendar, carry a few extra with me? I don't know. I forgot to take my Lithium yesterday. Been reading up on the side effects and talking with Nursing at work; wow, gotten myself into something. Hope all those who are "concerned" about me are happy now. I was "happy" and "excited" the lat few days about getting a lateral change into another Department and position at work; now, *sigh* well - guess life is just life, and I can't 'spiral-out' when reality hits home. Praying, and striving to embrace a new "phase" that is Me.

Medical Records



Mental Health is all we really have.  Sure the physical certainly helps to carry the mind forward towards it goals; but the mind is the engine for inspiration and concepts.  Sometimes my mind whirls.  What I mean by that is that my thoughts randomly jump from one topic to another as I seem to bore easily or am already three squares over and to the left of where the topic I was just on was.  My "highs" and excited joys are extremely High.  Whereas, even more so on the swing my moody blues are "lower" than the average bear and usually swing and stay in the dark the longest.

We all have "issues" - who doesn't?

I went and saw my doctor the other day.  I just had an honest, all the cards on the table discussion with him.  Keep me out of the "nut house" doc, but help me level out the pendulum swings, please!  I've tried suicide before, and by the Grace of God it's been many years since those Dark Thoughts evades my waking desires.  I feel like crying - all the time.  The face of a beautiful woman, a gorgeous sunset, a silly TV commercial, or even a Country Western song would push me over the edge.  NO ONE KNOWS how many times I've gone to the rest room just to wipe my face and put the fake smile back on like some Anonymous Mask to hid behind.  I am a perfectionist in my thoughts, and a mess in my actions.  My highs are too high and last not near as long as forever; yet my devastating lows crest the pits of depressions that have no end.  Many thoughts would have me Snap in a CNN way.

We all, all of us have "issues".  Mental whirlings and thoughts that swing either way is just a daily occurrence for the normal Joe but when they stay way too long at one end or the other sometimes choices made aren't the best.

YESTERDAY the doctors prescribed Lithium for me and on a form I saw "Bipolar". So, begins a new journey for me.



Just thinking of you...
Good thoughts, happy thoughts, those that make me smile
Wondering how you're doing thoughts
The kind of thoughts of concerns and hopes
Thoughts of you wondering if everything is alright
Not sad rainy day thoughts but of you playing in the rain
Picking flowers and smiling thoughts
Those shades and huge smile thoughts
Just thinking of you
Wondering if I ever cross your mind thoughts...

Why I write

Stories abound... Sometimes I wake up from nightmares; I write them down, and then later turn them into stories. Sometimes at work these flashes of clarity hit me; and I write them down on folded sheets of paper I keep in my pocket. I feel like crying. Most days people see me laughing or smiling; but I feel like I am about to burst into tears. I know so many of the dead; old friends I never see; voices crowding in my thoughts come out as stories to be told. I focus my depression and know I'm not alone in my pain, fear and loss. That is why I write. I need to learn to spell, to devise better grammar, to tell a story better - but it's all better than crying and feeling suicidal.

The CULT I grew up in

"TEDDY" First day HOME

We got our new puppy today.  A six week old male Shih tzu we have named Teddy.  Very mild manner, young, and sleepy.  We miss our poodle, Micah very much and Teddy will never replace his memory; yet we've enough love for another family member.


Merieth Treeman

   The man was married for nearly fifty-three years to the same woman.  She was his entire life and all the experiences he had included her.  One day she got sick and died.  His world changed.  Everything was not the same.  Food tasted different, the sun was not as bright, the birds did not sing.  The world had changed and he could no longer cry.
   One day, while leaving his house and heading into town the man stood along the roadside.  He stood there thinking of all the many experiences he and his only wife of fifty-three years, seven months, four days, and five hours had meant to one another.  A slow peaceful expression came over him.  Sure there were a multitude of things left unspoken, left undone, but for the most part, all was said just right, all was done just right, all was as it was.  Contentment came over him.
   Seemed the man was frozen in his inner thoughts and he disregarded the passerby along the roadside and the night drew on and it seemed the day passed him by without care.  He was not in a pit of despair as some had feared, nor was he outwardly prancing with glee.  His thoughts were all his own.  His memories were of contentment.
   The people who passed him by, tried as they may, were never able to get the man’s attention as they themselves went back and forth from the city to their country homes.  After some time the ‘quiet-man’ as he became known, was not bothered and became a fixture upon the way.  Birds would lit on his shoulder or head undisturbed.  After a while, he raised his arms to stretch but found he could not lower them and he was alright with them staying raised.  After sometime, lost in his thoughts of contentment and left alone by other, the others began to notice a change slowly come over him.  Days later his feet had begun to grow roots out of his sandals.  After a while there were branches from his arms, twigs from his fingers, bark on his body and a tree he became lost in this thoughts.

   That was seven years after construction had begun on the tower of Mithar.  Yet, for some unknown reason, I – yes, I woke up three days before the Great Departure.  I woke from my self-induce slumber, and began shedding that woodland form that grew upon me.  Having changed back into myself, I inquired as to all the changes in the world about me.   After gathering news from those who were astonished that a tree had come to life; I learned a great many things.
     The Great War of the Ring had come, and gone without me.  The Brown Wizard had faded from men’s knowledge.  The White Leader of our wizard’s order was slain, and his successor; fled with the elves to the greater west aboard their Swan ships.
   Vendumar led a rebellion to stay behind.  He, and others knew me only as The Blue Wizard, but the dwarves of Jebul knew called me Isptha; meaning ‘Tenacity’.  They even named the northern mountain after me for it had been my home prior my transformation.
   But in fact there were two of us.  We were twin forms of the same incarnation; each finishing the sentences of the other.  We had been tasked, like the others to fight against the growing darkness that was coming against the world.  We headed for distant lands in the Fareast, no longer on maps; to find that shadow.  In our search, Romestano was overcome and slain.  We were at our best together, yet I had been misled and called away.  In our separation, deceitful companions fell upon him. 
   In my despair I could not recover but sought deeper sorrow in my grief living in the tunnels of the dwarves in their northern hill.  I took one as a wife and we lived as happily as despair allowed me.  Till one day, Gishmah fell from a broken bridge on her way to see me.  I fled the mountain for the cottage where we lived.  I never fully recovered from her loss.

  But here I am today and today is where I make my business in a world that changed, and passed me by for far too long!

REMEMBER THIS HINT is to guide you to the FINAL GAME-TAG and WIN!!!
"From the Hospital doors, to the grave-side stones, you shall go."


   Having never heard anyone so openly speak of such things, my youngest grandson inquired, “Grandfather, what are Eldrens, Yantuks and... Zetas?” His mother’s face turned cold as I instructed the boy in the lore that had orally come down to me; she left the room.

    The most devious of creatures were the Eldren. They are shape-shifters who pride themselves in being half deer and half elf. They lay in waiting for unwary travelers with their spell enchantments of deceit and forgetfulness for those who stumble upon their woods. The Yantuks are half men, half birdlike creatures that feast upon the flesh of disobedient children who come up missing in the night answering the exhausted prayers of frustrated crying parents who have lost their patience!
But the Zetas, they are the most hideous beast among the animal kingdom.
    After a longer pause my grandson dared to asked, “Grandfather… What did the Zetas look like?”
My own eyes widened at the request as fear overcame my own heart in trying to answer my grandson.
    Few have survived an encounter with them, and fewer still have been left unshaken enough to give a full account of their violent ordeal. A strange description is best given from all the stories at once! They were monstrous beast, cobbled together by the most ancient of gods; out of anger that they were no longer of use to men. Creatures made from the parts of other animals; themselves bitterly angry for having so been created for the sole purpose of pure hate. Vicious in their temper, surprisingly cunning in their speed considering their huge bulk; yet unlike animals they wear armor and brandish weapons like men. The curved sword is a Zetas’ favorite friend and elves their worst enemy.
   They have the bulk of the Rhino's hind legs, the hump of a camel, the body and neck of a horse, two strong arms of the great ape and the head -. Their head is like the outstretched hammered shark with cat eyes at both ends; oversized and taking everything into their view! Their mouths resemble a turtle shell or that of the Acadia locus! Their speech is unintelligible with blurring noises that fill the night with razor roars. Balancing them all is an alligator’s tail which is whipped about in their defense.

  One day, long ago time ago, a party of nomadic hunters quietly stumbled upon two creatures in a heated battle.  Bound up in their struggle the party of men could only watch in horrific awe as the fierce creatures sought the life of the other.  A brutish sword welding Zeta and a sharp taloned Yantuk fought like great enemies.
  The leader of the party one named, Minlo Shadol said to the other, "Behold! Demons of the night have come out to fight among themselves in the light of day."
   At sound of his breath, the monsters immediately ceased their dispute. Breathing heavily the badly wounded Zeta bellowed out, in his unknown speech, "Ce`zar za`resh zes`rah raz`sakh Naz`ghKh zar`cashesh!!!!"
   In answer the birdlike Yantuk rebutted with, "Never have we come to fall upon you as prey, but to desolate the kindred of men instead, and to forbid them from which entering these yellow woods. Upon the dwarf kind as well, let them be slain asunder!" Such was their screeching speech.
  There was only one, out of that party of seven crouching men that even escaped alive, a Nayalthan Shadol by name.  He was the second born son of that leader who died first; beheaded in front of his sons and the first to be flayed alive before the hiding Nayalthan.

   The next day, after the boy had wandered aimlessly in shock back to the mountainous caves of his kinsman could he not stop rambling his tale amid screams and weeping.  Because the boy was alone and his tale so filled with terror, an even larger party was formed to demand answers and seek revenge. They returned to the very place where the slaughter occurred; armed for conflict but found only the remains of shredded body parts. High in the branches of the trees about them was the flayed skin of Minlo Shadol.  He, who had once been the Judge of all the people, was now remembered as a great fallen warrior.  There were no survivors, and their torn remains were not enough to fill a carry-bag.

   From that day on Nayalthan and his sons were made the Judges of the Minloian Household.  In a pouched-bag he did always carry the back-skin of his father as a memorial in a pouch, so as to never forget that day; and as a sign that for all time his lineage alone should likewise be tattooed as his father was.  So is told the tale of The Judge’s Mark and when it came, along with the horrific lore of the Yantuk and Zetas; nightmarish shadows seen only in the dreams of children and those afraid of the dark.


   Kyon, the only son of Nadan sat outside the mighty gates of Mithar one day viewing the people as they came and went. As Banerra and her son Melbadon approached from the tent village, Kyon spoke to them saying, "Behold a righteous man of good character! From the seeds of your sorrow, Melbadon shall you be called the Father of Goat Castle and a son from your line a Priest shall come." Banerra asked, "What of me good sir?" To which Nadan replied with a grave smile, "Blessed mother you have already played your role and shall be herald with love." Two weeks later she died in her sleep.

There was a man who lived thirty-two years with his mother. When she died he buried her on the island of Kedos in the Lake of Nethro, south of the Bay of Luhun. He lived alone on the island. He never kissed a woman, nor lay with any; for he never knew their physical love.  He was a serious, kind and loving man, but a lonely man. He painted and crafted bits of stone as tiles. On island of Kedos, Melbadon built a house with a tall single tower and a massive courtyard and wall about the island with the Lake of Nethro as its mote. The stones he used were pebbles gathered from the island alone. Thirty-two years after the death of his mother, Melbadon completed his masterpiece which was as elaborate and grand as any eastern royal palace. The day Melbadon finished building his home he went to the mainland. Going to the tent village of Slavath he met a young woman selling wares named Shelva and begged her to be his wife. She agreed and they later had three sons: Dorban, Korban, and Sorban of Nethro Island. When his youngest son, Sorban became seventeen years of age Melbadon died at the age of 122 happy and content.

Twenty-two years later Melshavaon, son of Sorban became a Priest of Mithar and one of its wisest teachers.

Bye Linda

I was deeply moved to tear last night at work by a co-worker. I cried. I was touched that I really did make a difference in someone's life. I've been an OJT-Trainer for nine years. I get very attached to my Trainees, and pour myself into them; feeling I have only one chance to make them the best at being Servant Caregivers with heart. So many come and go. About five years Linda Omergie came to The States from Nigira and forever changed my American view on things, (as did John Velasquez). Last night I was the first person Linda came to crying. She and her husband are moving to San Antonio and she's transferring to the State Supportive Living Center down there; however,she found out that her transfer came through. She told me, "David, today is my last day {saying all this through tears}, and I wanted to tell you 'thank you' for everything. You were my Trainer and introduce me to so much I could never have put up with so much if you had not give me the courage to face things. I - I will miss you; very much."

A lot of people did not like Linda; but I did, from the beginning. She had great work ethics and Christian ethics and was a deeply caring person; African. I came to know a view of Africa because of her friendship. I texted everyone "who mattered" and they came by to where she had been pulled to for coverage and they told her how special she meant to them. LOL Linda called me up, "Everyone is coming to me {crying on the phone}; how did they know I was leaving? David did you tell everyone? - Thank you, for being a specal man David; THIS IS WHY PEOPLE LIKE YOU."
I cried. I guess I should believe what people say about me. It's difficult for me to believe inmyself. I'm very touched that I -"me" - I touched someone's life. I... I... guess I really do "make a difference in people's lives". [not just a motto on the old badges].
THANK YOU Linda I will miss you too; and Africa.

Pray For Me ...if you care to.

...Going to Lady Snow's Doctor appointment, pick up her meds, then I'm doing laundry and lots of neglected house cleaning.  Suppose to finally be getting a new dryer after all; LOL that'll help.  Off this weekend. *sigh* resting. Taking a mental heath break... I need to write. My head hurts, my thoughts hurts, writing help. Pray for me; what it harm you to ask my creator to check in on my a friend's thoughts?
On the 19th I'm going for MY doctor's appoint.  It's been way over due for a check up.  I'm going to request some meds for my thoughts; highs too high, lows too low.  I am lower more than high and my depths deeper than my skies...

It's So Easy For Me To Cry

I feel like crying more than laughing
I feel like I've died inside too many times
There's so much to live for and read
Too many words yet to write and explore
Miss my life wishing I had it to live again
My thoughts are so splintered wanting too much
The rain and gray skies are just a reflection 
Of deeper moods and waiting the Highs to return

~David DeLane Snow

My Thoughts Really Hurt Today

My mind is a constant ramble blur
My emotions ramble forth like a rolling fog
How come you can't see my pain
I'm smiling for you in my tears
and yet you can't smell the love
Look past my eyes and you'll see
Tomorrow is as amazing a yesterday
If only they knew the sanity illusion
I'm scared the day will come
It's here already and they don't seem to know
we care to much about not caring

~David DeLane Snow 

A MeNtaL HeAltH DaY



 I miss my dog.  Micah was more than just a poodle, he was a "friend" with unconditional love; a great lesson to have learned and strive toward in the human expression.  I was shocked and very devastated with his loss.  Some how sometime he will find his way into one of my stories hidden away as a gem just for me to remember.  The things we recall in hard times are experiences with such friends as he was in my home body, sheltered life.


Want to see a movie

I've been wanting to see a scary movie.... *sigh* I guess not, anymore. :(

I would like to see this one... What do you think?



Thank you for the Silent Smile

The older I get the more I realize the less I know. I miss; too many things I can never have again.  I struggle to allow that to be a normal thing.  The future is now.  Even moment is slipping away into the next and before you know it the present has become something else, the past.  I'm tired of crying.  I want to laugh, and the laugh be real and lasting.  Happiness is a fleeting thing.  Others are happy.  I'm just... wanting to smile again.


England Dan & John Ford Coley

Being a Sitter...

Being a sitter at the hospital. Just sitting. Jumping and down at any given moment to redirect a client from pulling out the IV needle, assisting them not to get out of bed or eating their meal. Slightly "boring" in that the routine differs greatly than when the individual is in their Home environment.  Usually they are sleeping or constantly active with the intent of leaving for their "normal" view of things.

COURAGE, be strong...