LIfe Lessons learned from senselessness

Eventually I will get to blogging about my mundane life. Well, a life that is becoming less mundane. I'll be back to writing and living life and sharing it with you but first, I have to address a profound sadness. It's just such a solemn day here in my hometown so this blog post is dedicated to The Redskins Nation.


In Memory of Sean Taylor, 21

This is such a bittersweet day for me personally and a devastating day for the entire Washington, DC metropolitan area. One of our brightest stars, I mean that literally because he shined, has died out. Sean Taylor, just twenty-four years of age was shot and killed in his home. He wasn't just another young black man killed like so many young black men are for making poor decisions. He was a young man rebuilding his life, shot down while trying to protect his family in his home. IN HIS HOME!!! A home that he worked hard, whether it was through playing a silly game or making it through college and dealing with the issues that men twice his age have not. I would hope that his death will make at least one young man who thinks it's better to pick up a pen, a book or a ball than to be so selfish and angry at a person for working his way to success that they would kill them.

I may seem angrier than I should but I am speaking as a person who survived the same exact injury. I was not shot but fourteen years ago at the very same age that this young man lost his life, I myself had my femoral artery severed while fending a knife-wielding assailant off. Because I was in shock, I don't remember the pain and my only hope is that Sean did not suffer either. I'm telling this intimate detail about myself to make a point. I am not a victim. I refuse to be because I am still alive. Sean is forever gone. There is no explanation good enough for me that answers the question of why he was taken at so young an age. Children are mourning, fans and teammates are mourning and a little girl is without her father. There by the grace of God it could've been me, I thought. But it wasn't. God must've needed an angel, a guardian up there and he must've had other plans for me.

So, I guess the motto of this rant:

Life is so fleeting. It can end in seconds and for the people left behind, live it and live it well. Live it and live it with kindness. That's what Sean did. He played every game to the fullest and toward the end, he lived his life the same way. I hope that the youth of this world will learn that same lesson.

Happy Thanksgiving to all. What are you thankful for?

In this commercialized world, what has happened to the meaning of Thanksgiving? Is it just me or has Thanksgiving been diluted to just another reason to save at Wal*Mart? Well, I think it has.

I was not allowed to celebrate holidays like most of the world. I was raised a Jehovah's Witness and because of my parents, well mostly, my dear mother's misplaced religious views, I think I missed out. But, I am thankful even for that because I now realized what true joys I've missed. Not the joys of shopping, scrounging through the storage shed for holiday ornaments and the sometimes agony of putting up the Christmas lights but the simple things. For example, the look on my little girl's face when she sees her Great-grandmother for the first time or when she bites into a mouth-watering cookie that comes from a recipe that was handed down from women of her line from the very beginning. And now, I have the knowledge that I, having not known those joys myself, I have a wonderful, generous husband who has shown them to my children and me and that hopefully the joys will continue to pass on.

Reality hit me in the nose this week. An altercation happened between two people who are very dear to me. An argument that could have turned violent because one of those people was not thankful for what they had but jealous over what the other did. Juvenile when you think of it isn't it? Two people who have known each other their entire lives could have ruined their relationship for years to come.

So, I guess the motto of my rant is this.....

Be thankful for the little things and cherish every moment tomorrow because taking one day for granted is the beginning of taking everyday for granted.

Guess what I found?

Me. I found me.

I have been fast at work writing and creating my web page. Within the last year, I taught myself a lot about me. I found that, although, I can be a major procrastinator, if I focus and stop running around like the proverbial chicken sans head, I can actually accomplish a lot. You know the type of person that's always running around looking like they are doing a lot but they are actually running around in circles doing nothing but wasting precious time? Yep, that was mwah. I had to stop, catch a breath and reevaluate what I was doing.

I've learned that as a mother, it is okay to put oneself first. Actually, it's a definite must. I have alway put someone's needs before my own but you know what?.....if you don't put yourself first sometimes, you can lose yourself and then you're no good to anyone.

That was my first lesson in the next step of my life. Maybe it's because I just celebrated a birthday. I'm not sure but I've been asking a lot of questions as I head into the next level of my adult life. Like, how does one juggle being a stay-at-home mom and starting a sometimes scary thing like stepping out of one's box and learning new tricks. I'm not sure but I'd going to do it anyways.

I've never been a stickler for schedules. I've always flown by the seat of my pants but after looking around my home at the clutter my family has accrued, I realized that I maybe I should try living by one. Through that, I have been able to actually free myself up to be available more. I know, that shocked me too.

For my birthday, my husband bought me iLife for my Mac and upgraded Photoshop. Yeah, it might not seem like a big deal but it was one of the greatest gifts he's given me because, within the last year while finding myself and learning new things, this woman who thought her life, though full of love, seemed mundane. I discovered my life wasn't mundane, I was just living it that way. Sometimes I need a kick in the ass.

Last year, I starting thinking about the fact that I was once a vibrant, creative woman who could paint, draw, write and do whatever I wanted even without parents who thought I could, but that's a different story. Well, this year, I realized that woman was still here. She was inside me screaming for release. Well, be prepare world, here she comes.

Check out what else I learned how to do at my new website that I created myself after teaching myself how.

http://www.etatejohnson.com

And thanks to a special friend, Miss Laura Haines for helping me get over my fear of photoshop and giving me pointers.

You said it's your birthday. It's my birthday too, yeah!

Yep, I just turned one year older on November 6th. It was my wedding anniversary too. That's right. I got married on my birthday. My thirtieth to be exact. That was eight fabulous years ago. I think it was my way of not facing the fact that I was getting older.

It didn't work.

The good news is that I am happily married and my husband doesn't care how old I'm getting. He leaves me to fret about that all by myself.

Well, I'll get to the point of this blog. That being, there is no point to it. As my father once said, and he died at ninety while I was thirty-three, "Age is nothing but a number. Numbers can't hurt you but as time goes on if you don't make good use the time you have wisely, by the time you reach the end, you'll be nothing but a zero."

Thanks Dad for putting a burr under my butt.

Back to my goals. I have now taught myself how to create my own website. That's a huge success for the technically-challenged person that I am but hey, I love challenges. That's why I am going to get my rear end in gear and challenge myself to finish Nano this year. Wish me luck and check out my website.

http://www.etatejohnson.com

Unedited Excerpt from First Dance by E. Tate Johnson

Thursday, July 6, 2006, Mount Vernon, Virginia.

Black leather seats in a black vehicle were not a good idea given this kind of heat. Though, the air conditioned seats and recyclable air helped. It wasn’t the smell of morning dew that met him as he stepped out of his Navigator and into the haze filled air.

“I should’ve never listened to that damned car salesman. It’s only a quarter after seven for Christ’s sake,” he muttered.

A warm breeze carried the thick smell of death across the Potomac to meet him. He took a handkerchief to his brow and wiped the sweat away then held it to his nose to cover the stench. Lukas Marks made his way toward the riverbank. His steel gray eyes roamed his surroundings. A nerve pulsed at the base of his neck. It tugged tight like a needle on thread. Utter chaos and the day had just started, he thought. A woman wearing snug pink running shorts and matching tank top sobbed uncontrollably nearby. Stroking her flaxen hair, the man with her tried his best to comfort her while maintaining a tight grip on the raging German Shepard. The two uniformed cops that were first on the scene were still in the process of losing their lunch.

“Great. The day’s getting better already.”

A sigh escaped from deep within his chest. He hated dealing with emotional crap and this was going to be one of those fucking days. He just wanted to do his job, find the perpetrator and go on to the next case. His head throbbed in anticipation of the coming shit storm this case was guaranteed to include.

He motioned for a uniformed officer but Detective Mike Rivera’s bright red face was the first to greet him. His eyes were as black and as dilated as pools of crude oil. Rivera’s massive hand encircled Lukas’. His wooly eyebrows rose inquisitively. Any other man might’ve flinched at the strength in the hand shake but Luke’s eyes showed no sign that there was any amount of discomfort.

“Well, Mike what have we got?”

“Hey Luke,” he sighed. “Looks like we’ve got another one.”

The nose plugs he wore to dull the smell would’ve looked funny if the situation weren’t so damned serious thought Lukas.
He looked like an angry bull. A faint smile crossed Lukas’ lips as the thought if he flares his nostrils anymore duck. He might just put someone’s eye out, he thought.

“Same MO?” asked Luke as he drew his hand back.

“Yeah and Jesus, it’s bad. I thought the last one was rough but this, I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m not certain. I mean Jesus Fucking Christ. You can’t tell what’s what but I think it’s her. It looks like some kind of animal got hold of her,” he said as he rubbed his hands over blood shot eyes.

“Well, we won’t know for sure until the ME gets here. Did anyone bother to call CSI and could somebody shut that fucking
dog up?” barked Lukas to no one in particular.

He wiped his palms dry with his handkerchief before slipping latex gloves on. He hated wearing the damn things in this heat.
One of the sweat-laden young officers perked up and nodded toward Lukas. Lukas wiped his face and plastered on his best professional smile before making his way toward the distraught couple. He hadn’t meant to sound so terse but it was early. Exhaustion still lay buried in his chest and now he’d have to endure the dreaded forlorn look he was sure to receive from the deceased’s child’s family followed by the heightened press and the weight of upper brass on his back. This perp had killed five little girls in as many months.

“Dr. Johnson’s team is on their way. In the meantime, I took the liberty of getting a statement from the couple who found her. Neither of the witnesses saw anyone or anything. They came across the remains while jogging with their dog. I don’t think anyone could miss that smell though.”

A pine tree branch snapped back at Lukas hitting him in the face as he made his way beyond the yellow tape. He looked with the eyes of a man who’d seen far too much death. Though disturbing, it just was not as hard to look at anymore. The smell would’ve been horrendous even for the nose of a normal man but it was the sight that made his stomach churn.

The milk-coated glass stare of four year old Rebecca Chambers still dressed in her pink Sleeping Beauty nightgown looked up at him. Only the poor kid wasn’t even human anymore. Not corporeal, but a mound of tattered pale flesh and broken bones. Her neck was splayed open. No, not splayed, he thought as he bent down and took a ballpoint pen out of his pocket. The sound of congealed flesh sloshing against the pen made his stomach tighten.

“Sorry kid,” he murmured.

Sometimes the fairy tale monsters were all too real. Of that he was certain. He knew because he was one, a full-fledged werewolf, born and bred. It had all the makings of a newly made wolf but something was very off. Something smelled different this killer. He couldn’t place his finger on it but for now, he’d treat it like any other rogue wolf. He’d hunt him and kill him. He had to protect the sanctity of the pack. His alpha would demand it. But for now, he had to treat it like every other human crime until he found the sick fuck that was doing this and put him down. His kind had to stay under the radar. We wouldn’t want to scare the poor skin walkers now would we? Humans were never able to except that their might be true monsters walking amongst them and yet, it’s funny how quick they are to think the worst of themselves. Though, he’s seen his share of what an actual human monster could do. Still, they had nothing on his kind. If a wolf had a deceased mind, there was no stopping him. A true wolf doesn’t hunt humans, not like this at least and not innocents.

Copyrighted by Elizabeth Johnson November 3, 2007