tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25029319.post-77328291655884298912007-04-23T19:42:00.000-07:002007-04-23T22:17:02.759-07:00And that’s how it all started. I will not read his writing. He had an agenda and as far as I can see the whole nation jumped on the band wagon. That is except for those poor innocents and those scarred souls that were left behind. I don’t figure that if you are going to do something dastardly that you deserve to have your manifesto published, or your evil pictures plastered all over the press.<br /><br />I woke up in the middle of the night and here I am again. Except for this time I’m laying under a desk just waiting, having an eye conversation with a young man – wondering if I’m next. When I wake up out of that, I’m laying there hot: Extremely hot. I’m wrestling with my blankets, wrestling with my dream, and wrestling with my imagination – telling it to settle down, go back to sleep. I don’t want to get up and write. I’m not going to get up and write. I am tired.<br /><br />And I look at the clock: One-thirty. What in God’s green earth am I doing awake at One-thirty in the morning? It’s Monday morning. Work comes way too early and way too dirty to be laying awake thinking about somebody’s manifesto that I refuse to read – I refuse to even give a name – at One-thirty in the morning.<br /><br />If that sounds like anger, I believe it is. I believe that it is righteous indignation. It’s not me that was assaulted, murdered, but it was everything that I have always believed in – stood for. It’s everything our nation stands for: For life, liberty, and justice for all: And what about the pursuit of happiness? Hello?<br /><br />I hear my grandfather clock: It tells me it’s Two. That means it’s not quite Two. I need to get that repaired, but in the scope of things I don’t think it’s of major importance.<br /><br />I finally went back to sleep. I didn’t hear my husband get up for a change. Oh, he tries to be quiet, and he does real well, but sometimes I hear him just the same. Five AM and all is well. I told him on Saturday that he needed to be sleeping in on Saturday and not getting up at Five O’clock in the morning. Nobody gets up at Five O’clock in the morning on Saturday. He just laughed at me and told me that he had things to do.<br /><br />My hubby always gets up at Five O’clock. Not me, I don’t get up at Five O’clock. But I was awake this morning at Five O’clock by goodness. Hubby dearest forgot to tell his alarm clock that he wouldn’t be needing her services. Oh it came on peaceful enough – nice and quiet – it was that gal that talks on Calm: KAHM 102.2 on your FM dial. The music was playing nice and low, but I couldn’t’ even enjoy the music because all that I could think was that I need to be resting. I have to get up soon.<br /><br />And then when I finally adapt to the noise, whereas I wanted silence, hubby finds his oversight and turns off that wonderful little box that I had finally adjusted to, and so he woke me up again. And then I finally got up for the day. And there it was – right there on the front part of my brain. I will not read what that man wrote. <div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; moz-background-clip: initial; moz-background-origin: initial; moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25029319-7732829165588429891?l=joyfulnoizministries.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Miss Audreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02262549839365542193noreply@blogger.com2