The first tragedy I recall was us living poor.  Well, I guess that was more circumstantial  than tragic.  Tragedy befell me when Dad went to heaven when I was 7, after I watched his life bleed away from him on the side of the road while sitting in some stranger's car and not being able to get to him or help him.  I became a loner due to just not being able to deal with not understanding the loss while submersing myself in a more spectacular place called fantasy instead of reality.  I lost an adored aunt at age 12.  I had a recurring dream for months of me beside her casket.  I was pulled from english class when I was 17 to find out that grandmother had passed in her sleep.  Sleep had never come easy anyways, and the best night's rest I remember ever having was in her house the same night of the day she passed.  Reality has always been something hard for me to grasp when I am burdened with whatever demon plauges me of the moment.  I went traveling with a carnival during the last three summers of my high school.  As soon as I graduated, I was back on the road again.  It was the best place to run from reality, and I loved it.  At 19, I awoke to my rapist.  Any depression I had ever felt compared little to what I felt when the shock wore away.  I left the road, got a "normal" job, made the mistake of marriage to a shit excuse for a husband.  My daughter was the highlight to that hell, and I paid for my divorce.  Subjected myself to several more abusive relationships while repetitive learning took a vacation through most of them.  Now, here I am: Vada- broken but still humerous while trying to act strong while feeling the weight of the world drowning me because I can barely swim if I can't touch the bottom of the lake. 

I talk in analogies when I have trouble with expressing what I really want to say.

I'll never be normal, nor do I want to be.  I currently have 11 tattoos which I find very theraputic to me; I missed out on the aromatherapy candle kick.  I have several piercings. 

I have an adorably rotten 7 year old daughter named Abby.  I have thought for the last seven years that she would be the only angel gracing my life to be my child.  Nature proved the doctor's wrong, and I will be welcoming a new addition to my world on the expectant Jan 13, 2010.

Writing is my vent to rid my mind of anguish or pain that may be afflicting me- to give word to the joy that may inhabit me- or to give my imagination an open field to play on.

I am a bit rough around the edges but can be very smooth about it- and on occasion, I am a walking contradiction.  I am just me- nothing more and nothing less- most importanly, content with all the flaws that define me, so I tell myself at least.

My favorite quote- "It is the fate of extraordinary people to be misunderstood by ordinary people." 

Thanks to all who read, support, and give feed back.  It is greatly appreciated.