I want to be a writer. I want to be a writer. If I can't be in a school system, I want to write.

I am going through things to put up in the attic so my aunt can move in, and I was taking some books out of a cabinet. I almost became emotional. So many of those books from such a good, protected time. When my mother held me, she held me with love and as a fortress. Everything I did, and in all I knew, she protected me from the realistic tragedies of life. I was just a blond headed, blue-eyed, little girl who knew no wrong about life, except that my daddy--father--died before I was born. I was ever aware of it and couldn't understand it. I knew that his sisters were my aunts and they were so fun.

I knew my mom (mommy) was a teacher, and it was the coolest thing. It was so cool that my mom was a teacher. I loved to brag about it.

And while she held me, protected me, lived with me, took care of me, she went through a hell I have some what known---not knowing what's going to happen with your career. She shielded me from everything.

I found a book I thought I had lost---Minnie the Moo. There were several OLD, OLD, OLD books she had for me, and one was called Minnie the Moo. It was about a milking cow, and it had a calf. The calf wanted some milk, and it said basically, "Milk, Milk, Milk--that's all anyone ever wants of me." She didn't seem to want to give her baby some milk and that always made me sad. In the end, she gave her baby some milk.

I didn't find Robert The Rose Horse, though. Love Robert the Rose Horse. Robert is a horse and allergic to roses. Everywhere he goes, he runs into someone who has roses and he SNEEZES the biggest SNEEZES. Everything goes flying when he sneezes.

I felt like something on the bottom of shoes for where I am in consideration from where I started. I think that's what made me almost emotional.

I want to be a writer, but I'm left with the same questions---what and how?

I have been trying to get in touch with my former assist. principal to see if he still believed in what he said in that beautiful recommendation letter. I had called and the secretary said he said to send him an email and he'd reply. Well, I did so and asked if he still could stand on what he said, and he SAID he DID. He still stands on it. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. I was worried about how I may have acted or things I did from August of last year to May of this year. He still stands on that letter. Ellen needs to call him and ask him about me.

He said he hoped things picked up for me and wished me the best in whatever I did.

And I want to be a writer.

A writer.

I'm good at writing about myself but there's not a lot good going on here. And I don't know why people would want to know about me. I'm trying to get some positive attention, to get a movie made about my mom (and me).

While I was pulling books out of this cabinet, I thought about "Josh." He crossed my mind. If he had been a better man, he would have been there with me, going through those things. If he were a better man. I am not sure if I will ever stop wondering about him--in entirety. Entirety.
There's a world about him I don't get. I've never been able to reconcile something where he is concerned. I can't understand how God would create a man who would be so much a hypocrite and turn in such an opposite direction as he had been. I've not been able to reconcile that he is a living being, a human, who could do what he did and say what he did. How is he a person and how does he exist--some might say, live with himself?

I wish I could just touch him for the sheer realization that he is human.

Anyway, I want to be a writer. And I want to write what I feel, and I would like to be paid for it.

And I want to get a national Colonoscoy day planned. Everyone go get a Colonoscopy. Maybe it's already been done, but we need to do it again.

Cindy