Newscoma

As I have had a long day at work, am getting something like trifocals and have some degenerative eye issue in one of my eyes that is not so much of the good (and I desperately want some glasses like Ruabelle’s which are the hippest glasses I’ve seen in awhile) and am thinking that Sarcastro (see comments here) was right, because he often is in a scary yet sort of groovy way) I offer you a link dump.

Yeah, my eye. I will from now on call it stink eye.

Stink Eye, Edna, you get it all here at the ‘coma.

So let’s go:

• Kiley out.
• Mugshot of the month, and yeah campers, it’s from Memphis. And it’s quite tasty and says everything I would ever want to say only in 1979. Sweet.
• Hagel says nothing. Thompson says nothing although allegedly can’t vote in Tennessee (what is up Michael with all the posts?) and Guiliani says nothing. McCain says too much. And yet we are pontificating 20 months before the presidential election.
• The joy of taking pictures in the men’s loo by Jeff at Side Salad.
• Megan has a new blog. Having made this trip twice within just a few hours last week, I had plenty of time to think. And stare at bumper stickers that raised my blood level. And breathe the beautiful aroma of fossil fuels. Like it and I need to change my blogroll.
• My vet said to give my dog baby aspirin when she was ailing although I’m not one hundred percent sure if that is of the good but it eased her. Poor sweet Libby.
• I get this Glen. I really do. You know, politically, we are polar opposites (Big Time), but I do dig your taste in music and I do understand the loss of a beloved parent.
• March Madness is here. I really only like the first two weekends because it’s free game and anyone has a shot. So think of me Thursday night as I sit in front of a television (hopefully with friends, a savvy yet sort of grubby bar atmosphere hoping the underdogs all win and a saucy glass of hopps and barley.) This story tells of how the workplace suffers from the insanity of college hoops at its pinnacle. Also, let me say, I just like it when the Davids topple the Goliaths.
• 69 Percent. ‘Coma said 69. Heh, heh.
  
• Photo from My Confined Space. The grape reminded me of my stink-eye.
  

So I’m taking my stink eye to the mirror to stare it at, wonder why one lense for my glasses would cost almost five hundred smackers (thank goodness for insurance) and say stink eye over and over again because it amuses me.

I also enjoy saying the two words Bloated Whitey really fast over and over again, but I digress.

When I returned home yesterday from Middle Tennessee, all I wanted to do was stare at the wall. The last few days were tight on time with little flexibility. As I am a person that oddly needs structure combined with some breathing room, I came home very tired and SQ and I both knew that today is going to be very spastic to a degree.

On her agenda is processing and cataloging about 500-600 pictures, writing several stories about each of the games and putting them in the paper tomorrow. My story on Rep. Mark Maddox will most likely run on Thursday due to space constraints (and I need a few more things from him) and getting back in the swing of things.

I always suffer from a bit of anxiety anytime I’m out of the office for a few days. It’s weird, I always feel a bit discombobulated and I never know if I’m walking into a time bomb. Usually, it’s alright but there have been a few occasions that I’ve showed up and some inner drama has occurred and I feel out of sorts.

Work, doesn’t matter what you do, is work even if you love your job. And there are times that it feels like your trying to catch water from a fast running stream in your hands. It just goes so fast. You can’t let it get to you, but then again, sometimes it does feel like your being pulled into the current. I’ve felt that way for awhile now.

So yesterday, I decided to just enjoy the day. I’m reading Neil Gaimon’s “Anansi Boys” so I headed out onto the sun porch (with a very needy Mabel) and book in hand, turned on The Beatles and listened to parts of “Anthology” and “Love” for several hours. We grilled Bratwurst and drank copious amounts of cheap beer and I tried to clear my mind. I also saw a neighbor burn a ton of wood in his yard contemplating if I should go get the fire extinguisher and help out if his lawn went up in flames, which for a few minutes, looked entirely possible.

SQ will take the brunt of the day as she is the sports editor and Gleason winning the state championship will consume her for the next few days and with the beginning of baseball/softball season, she has to readjust her schedule. We will most likely compile a photo montage in our second paper this week (our paper puts out two papers a week.) And it’s National Sunshine Law week, which is extremely important.

But it’s spring. I heard the most beautiful symphony of birds this morning and that, my dear friends, is of the good.

Please take a few moments and go over to Sharon Cobb’s internet home.

She has written a very honest, heartbreaking account of being molested as a child, the reason why she fights and how the actions of adults in her youth affects her life today.

When I worked with battered and sexually abused women and children, I knew they were changed because the abuse of their minds and bodies is such a violation. Abusers, pedophiles and rapists like control, so they strip their victims of their personal power.

So many of the women I worked with never felt safe again. Imagine just wanting one thing, to feel safe, your entire life. For adult survivors, or the ones I know, many never have that and feelings of personal loss are always there.

Sharon explains what it’s like to have innocence robbed and how the actions of one man who molested her changed her and how she fought to bring him to justice.

For Sharon, and other men and women like, who have suffered sexual abuse during childhood need our help to be heard.

It’s important.