Life is like that (book 1)

She looked up at the winning lottery numbers, while standing in the local dairy, they look like my numbers she thought. Not really thinking she had won, but checking her purse, she didn't have her ticket, so just thought she must remember to check it, online later. She let the fantasy of “winning the lottery” stay playing in her mind.

Oh how it would change things, how wonderful it would be. Musings floated through her head, a picture of herself, walking without pain, walking into her home, that was clean and tidy, and seeing her new paid companion smiling and laughing, the fantasy came to an abrupt end, as she tripped, although she didn't fall, often falling is a better option than not, because the way you move so quickly, and all your weight suddenly stops can do far more damage to your body. This was one of those times, that saving herself from falling, had cause pain to spring from what seemed like every muscle of her body.

God dammit, what an idiot you are old woman, she thought, you know, better than to stopping yourself from falling like that, that was a nasty trip, and the pain will be horrendous. At that same moment, she realised, she hadn't brought her mobility scooter, so she would have to walk home, it really wasn't far, she could see the tall tree in the corner of the section where she lived, it was only just over 100 meters away, but hell it seemed like it was miles now, and lets face it, getting to these local shops and home again was all she could do on a good pain day... oh Crap, you fool, how that hell will I get home, she thought, leaning up against a concrete wall of the fish and chip shop.

It was getting dark, and the cold of night was starting to be noticeable, that cool of the evening, seeped into her back, increased her pain to a new level.

That pain alone, added to her usual pain was too much, but added to, not falling pain, oh shit, oh hell, she was beginning to panic, what could she do, she looked around, not seeing anyone. Hell who was she kidding, she wouldn't ask for help, and chances are no-one would offer help, then she would only get more upset, when no one offered help,

Lilly, you just have to get home face it, even if she did have a cellphone, she have no-one to ring, and she know how those ambulance drivers were so mean to her. No, she had to get home, and tend to herself.

Not one friend, and family she had nothing to do with for 13 or 14 years now, her life was just waking in morning, turning the kettle on, as she passed the kitchen to the bathroom to pee, getting a hot drink, and making a hot water bottle then sitting in front of the computer, apart from that same trip to the toilet and getting a new cup of tea, and heating the hot water bottle, for her back, that was her day.

She got to the alleyway, one side had a corrugated iron wall on one side, a concret block wall on the other, she leaned against the concrete bloke wall, just her bum touching the wall, the cold from the wall, would in to too much, so leaning forward hands on her thighs, she felt tears sting her eyes, quickly well in her eyes, and slip down her face.

She couldn't be bothered to wipe them away, she was only 30 yards closer to her destination. She could barely breath, that pain, that the night air caused, always meant she could barely breath.

So what the hell, was she going to do, still 70 or so yards from home, no fences or building to rest against between here and there, oh, the power poles were on the other side of the road. 665

Wheely bins, there were 2 wheely bins between where she had to be, and she was now, that would help. So she started slowly ever so slowly moving, focused on the 1^st bin, limp in her left leg, and stabbing pain in the right ankle, from the almost fall, aching mod back, with griping vice like chest pain, barely able to inhale, the normal pain neck and shoulder, as well as in lower back, hip.

Yeah right, she thinks as she remembers that comment about only feeling pain in one place at one.

One short step after another, stopping every 3 or 4 steps, then every 2 or 3 steps, pain now in both ankles, tears steaming down her face, another step, another step. Migraine was starting, dammit how many types of pain could she have... the 1^st bin slowly getting closer, it was impossible to think about anything, except getting there.

It seemed like an hour, but was about 10 mins she guessed, she got to the 1^st bin, she leaned across the top of the bin, trying to take the weight off the various joints up her body, that last step, felt like every joint was swollen, inflamed with pain. She knew there was no way she could walk between this bin and the next. Leaning forward on her elbows, she hung her head, and cried. No one was around, holding in the hopelessness of her situation was just causing more pain, crying wasn't particularly helping either, her body shaking with tears, it didn't matter, nothing mattered, crying was hurting too much, so she stopped.

All the years she had planned to end her life, when the pain got to bad, every situation she had thought of, how bad the pain was, what and how she would do it, never did she consider being stuck, on the footpath, leaning over a bin of rubbish, knowing she couldn't go forward, what would she have to do, just wait, and hope someone would drive along the street, … I must look like an old drunk, if a car was to come along, me learning like this, or waling like I am, I would probably look like a drunk, if I was to fall in the ground, again I would just look like a drunk, , I'm screwed she thought. I'm screwed until morning.

It was very dark and the cold night air, was biting into her back, she could barely take take anymore of a breath than a small sniff of breath. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, about how much of a breath was she taking, half a cup, no much less than that, about the area of an egg, smaller than that, maybe the size of an ice cube.

The odd thing about this particular pain, the cold night air /unable to take a normal breathe/crushing pain, was that often if I could just stretch that area between my shoulder blades, and down a couple of inches, if she could just stretch it in the right way, and her spine would click, that particular pain would ease. Trouble was, often trying to get her back to stretch it could not work, but instead pull the muscles, which could make the pain worse.

1209

Making herself stand up, the rubbish bin moved a little, she had assumed it was full, but looking at it, it was the recycling bin, the bin that was much than it would be if it was full, instantly she though, I wonder if I could use the bin like a walking frame. Move it forward a few inches, take a step, forward take a step. Then every time I need to I can use it to rest against.

It worked, she hobbled off towards home, it was slow progress, but it was progress, since she couldn't take a decent breath, she had to rest often, after another 15 metres, her muscles were screaming with pain, feeling like they were going to cramp, she guessed because of lack of oxygen.

But she was almost to the next bin, and about 25 or 30 meters from the door of her house, back to safely. She didn't care about her physical safety, hell, she often fantasied about being murdered, how guest would that be, only pain for a few hours, then never anymore pain, no more anything, being murdered would be a bonus, a blessing, but chances are, it would never happen to her.

She eventually got home, the rubbish bin would just have to stay beside her back door, inside she made a hot-water bottle for her back, a cup of tea, and sat down at her computer, hot water-bottle between her shoulder blades, she dropped 5 paindullers, there is no way, they kill the pain, dull it was all it did. But if she overdosed just this much it seemed to do the trick, it wouldn't be good for her liver, but what the hell. 

She opened Facebook, and started to scroll down her wall,

Like

Like

Like Share

Like

Like comment, ROLF

miss that post, and that one

Like

Like

Like comment, ROLF 

she thought, yeah right, I leave a comment that I'm rolling on the floor laughing, and here i am crying... 

Like comment Share

read a blog post about pain,

read a newspaper report about health

Private message:

Janice Sayer: Hey Lilly, I was starting to worry about you, been hours since you've been on facebook.

Lilly Alembe: Hi Janice, I went to the shop, and had a rest after I got back.
Janice Sayer: Yeah, you were talking to me before you went to the shop, you said you'd be back in 20 minutes....

Lilly Alembe: Oh, sorry Janice, I totally forgot to let you know.

Janice Sayer: No worries, I have to go to work now, have a good night, if you have slept when I get home my night, I'll chat.

Lilly Alembe: Ok, see yah. Byeeeeeeeeeeeee

Like

Like

Like comment ROLF, Share

Miss that post,

Share

Like

Like

Like

Like comment, LOL

Share

Like comment, LMBO

Like

Open Candy Crush, level 35, Clear all jelly, and 130,000 points.

repeat above a couple of times.. 40 minutes or so later, 

She realises pain has subsided, not gone, it was never gone, but she would be able to take care of her normal day to day exsistance.

She didn't believe she had a life, it was just staying alive, because her body wouldn't die.

She though about lieing to Janice. She often lied to people on facebook, would be typing LOL or LMAO while she was actually crying, saying she was fine, when she was stuck in her chair, unable to move, having to pee her pants, posting she had just had a lovely hot shower, when truth was, she had turned the hot water off 6 weeks ago, to save power, she usually couldn't shower herself anymore now anyway. But it wasn't anything, people she would never meet, have to know what her life is really like.

the wonderful thing about facebook is, it's a fantasy life, oh sure there are people that want to share their real life, but many many people have a fantasy life on facebook. The fantasy life online was just what worked, who would have believed that at home, she was planning her own death.


Continues here

Poem: Just you Lover

Come lay with me,
Lay between my legs,
Rest your head on my tummy,
Quiet now, 
Don't say a word,
Just listen,
Hear me with your body,
Hear my hands, 
My words,
My thoughts.

Honey, I love you,
with everything,
I love you,
I want you,
I need you.
Just You.

Just you,
Not what you can do,
Not to protect me,
Not to keep me from harm,
Cause, having you,
Right there at my side,
I won't need protecting,
Your strength will be mine.

You wanna be my Marine,
My knight in shining armour,
My dragon slayer,
My shelter from the storm,
You wanna be the person,
I look up to with eye's full of love.
That's you already.

I want you,
Just you,
Right there by my side,
No dragons no slay,
No storms to weather,
No enemy to conquer,
No fights to win.
Just be there,
Just you.

Just you,
That's who I feel in love with,
You....

Working through intrusive thoughts: Grief

Reply to a post on facebook, where someone was asking for help to work through grief. On The Nutters Club facebook page.

My life has been in the same neck of the woods as you. I don't know how you feel, but I've been lost in grief too.

I found that by compartmentalizing my grief, just putting it to one side, and starting to look at other things that either used to interest me, or something that was totally new to learn about, has lead to me not only learning new stuff, but also learning about my journey with grief.

When I'm in a state, I find reading very difficult, too many obtrusive thoughts. But either listening or watching something, especially something that I can stop and start if I need to, is very good.

To give an example. The other night listening to talkback, I heard someone talk about a NZ actor, who was around back in 30's, I wondered what she was doing now, so went and googled her name.

The 1^st result was was wikipedia, and that was interesting probably, but my mind was busy with intrusive thoughts, and I didn't adsorb much, except she was still alive lol

the second result in google, was to a video clip on the site I have since started exploring, a site that has many many visual clips, something like youtube, but only listing productions.

The page had several links to short clips of what she has done over the years. Then in the related part of the page, either the same actor or subject, there was 1 full TV program, on a subject she had spoken.

So I went to view that, and finding out there were several full TV programs on that site, I started browsing the site for full length vids, and the journey began in earnest.

Over the past 4 days or so, I have watched about 30 of so clips on various subjects, everything from extinct plant in NZ, and how they have worked out why it disappeared about 50 years ago, right through Maori land disputes, a particular type of fish, finding Captain Cooks anchor in Taihati, to the 1^st episode of a TV series Doves of War, to a couple of comedies, a couple of kids science programs, etc etc, to last night, when I discovered quite a few programs looking at ways us kiwi's support each other. One of those programs touched on grief, and I heard something that made sense to my recovery. It was like the full circle.
Today, I'm back here, contributing to this group, with bits and pieces of what I have learned. 

About dyslexia, Teaching a Dyslexic Child Creative Writing is Easy

Teaching a Dyslexic Child Creative Writing is Easy

Dylexia is only a handicap if you let it be one

Dyslexics are often misunderstood; many people believe that having Dyslexia means you can't read or write at all, although this might be true for some people with very severe Dyslexia, the majority of Dyslexics have some reading and writing skills to varying degrees.

In fact older Dyslexics often got through school without anyone knowing they were anything else than "a little slow" when it comes to reading and writing. However with every dyslexic the writer has ever known, they are always far from "Slow". Their thinking and problem solving abilities are usually outstanding, they are so quick, they leave most people 3 miles back down the road.

Dyslectics range in severity from just having certain words that they can't ever remember how to spell, having many words that can't be spelt correctly, to only being able to spell 2 or 3 letter words. Often dyslectics with a medium dose of Dyslexia can read and can find other peoples spelling mistakes. I certainly always could.

They can see a spelling mistake, not know how to spell the word but still know it is wrong. other times, they can see the word is misspelt, and can usually find the right word out of a list of words, like with Micosofts Word spellcheck.

It's often thought that people with dyslexia can't read, that in my case is a load of huey, I have read many epic's novels over the years, and although I might stumble over the odd unfamiliar word, I read pretty well, I can't read aloud however, and since in school reading aloud in the early years is common, it's how I got the title of idiot or slow.

Reading can often be an issue, but it's often more to do with the number of words in a paragraph and the size of the font used. It's common practice with a dyslexic reading on a computer, to highlight the line they are reading, and then reading is or can be relativity easy. To highlight part of the text just left-click your mouse at the start of some text and holding the mouse button down, drag or push the mouse pointer down one or more lines.

You will note with my writing, I use far to many paragraph breaks, I usually don't make a paragraph any longer the 4 to 6 lines, this is as much for my dyslexia as for the reader, reading long paragraphs is extremely difficult, even if you don't have dyslexia.

Depending on the severity of the dyslexia, most people can lead quite normal lives and even when the condition is severe, sufferers usually just find jobs that use their other inherent skills, many dyslexics are very artistic or creative in some way. As with other disabilities like blindness the human spirit or body makes up for less in one area by providing more in another area.

So if your child is diagnosed with Dyslexia don't despair, they aren't doomed to a life of being simple or slow, you are guaranteed to have a child that is very creative in some way, often in several ways.
Probably the very best thing you could do for a child that is dyslexic is to buy them a computer, and encourage them to write. This may sound like the worst possible idea, but let's explain further.

All word processing programs have a spell-check, and spell checks or more the auto correct feature are a real gift for people with dyslexia. The spell-check/auto correct  will need a bit of programming to begin with, which you as a parent will have to do, but once done, your child will be able to write with relative ease, and the more someone practices the better they get.

A spell-check can be programmed to correct any spelling errors as the person is typing, and you will quickly notice that your child will make the same spelling errors all the time.

You may think that having spell-check on auto correct will never help your child to spell correctly, and that's true to a certain extent, most dyslexics say they spell the same words wrong as they did when they were children.

1.  The problems with not letting a program fix the spelling errors immediately, are the child/person will see they have made several spelling errors and will become discouraged about writing more.

2.  Seeing a word spelt wrong only instills the misspelling in the mind of the writer so even with practice your child will probably not learn the spelling of the word anyway.

Read this quick page of how to set up auto spell correct for dylexics
http://sicktodeathnz.blogspot.co.nz/2013/06/how-to-set-up-spell-check-for-dyslexic.html

To give an example of a word that is often spelled incorrectly by dyslexic writers; we'll use the word brochure.
There are about 4 ways that the writer of this article spells brochure: with an 'ire' instead of 'ure' happens often... 'brouch' is probably the most common mistake. The spell-check has been programmed to pick up any of these incorrect ways of spelling and change them to the correct spelling, which is why the full word cannot be given as an example here.

The majority of children, probably only use about 100 different words on a regular basis when writing, occasionally using extra nouns. Often people with dyslexia can spell 2 and 3 letter words, so it's only the longer words that need to be programmed into the spell-check. But even if your child spells 'the' with the 't' and 'h' transposed word processor will fix it. Spell-check can be configured to always correct misspellings.

You will find your child is so liberated by not having to worry about spelling; they will probably get right into writing. The first project might be a diary then onward to bigger and better things.

Being able to express yourself without ridicule is a wonderful thing, and your child will always remember how you took that time, and gave them that freedom.

Writers Bio

Lynny Brown an SEO in San Diego; works from home. After spending 15 or so years housebound with chronic back pain. Being in constant pain, and wanting to get away from pain, she found the computer and internet a wonderful distraction.
Gradually though the pain grew worse, and she ended up using the computer from bed, laying flat on the bed, with the keyboard propped on her stomach, the mouse on a book beside her hip, and the computer monitor on a kitchen table that straddled the bed.
As the pain grew worse, so did her dependence on painkillers. In April 09 she met a chiropractor via craigslist, that offered to swap SEO for his pain relief techniques. A few months later she was up and walking without medication. Now 12 months later she is quite healthy.
She is a self-taught SEO, learning these skills before even knowing what Search Engine Optimization was, back in 1999. Learning SEO came from simply wanting to see her own website rank highly in search engines. As it turns out her SEO skills have given her life back as an added bonus.

Note November 2012:
The above bio was written about 3 years ago, and much has changed. After living almost out of pain for a very short time, I was involved in a car accident in San Diego, a woman talking on her cellphone while driving, rear-ended our car while we were stopped at traffic lights, she didn't even try to slow down before she hit. I got severe neck whiplash injuries,  and 10 days later, a blood clot from my neck moved up into my brain, and I had a stroke.
After the stroke, I was unable to work, and not having medical insurance, I couldn't afford to live or die in america, so I can home to New Zealand, where I live both with chronic pain again and the effects of the stroke. I'm still unable to work, I have had to go bankrupt, and my marriage of 10 years to an american is over.

How to Set Up Spell-Check For a Dyslexic Child

How to Set Up Spell-Check For a Dyslexic Child

Dyslexic Children Are Often Very Creative

Note:  (2013) This was written several years ago, for an older version of Microsoft Word, so the instructions for setting up the auto correct maybe different now.
You should be able to find the features I mention, they just might be in different places.

When teaching a child with Dyslexia how to use a computer to write just follow these steps, and you'd be amazed how quickly your child will become a confident writer and child in general.

Make the whole exercise a fun experience for your child. Have them watch the magic of a computer spell-check , write out a paragraph yourself, making some common spelling mistakes, explain You often spell this word a way the computer doesn't like. Spell the words almost correctly, maybe transposing a couple of letters show the child how computer underlines the errors, talk about how magic it is to find the words it doesn't like. (sometimes computers don't like a correctly spelt word)

First copy the wrongly spelt word so you can paste in, then right-click on the spelling error and Word will probably give you a few choices of what the word should be, but choose Auto-Correct then Auto Correct Options, put the incorrect spelling along with the correct spelling in and click ok. Do this with the other spelling errors, and then go back to your paragraph click right after the wrong spelt word and hit the spacebar... and like magic the word with auto correct.

Talk about how cool it is, and try typing the word incorrectly again, magic it fixes itself. You will probably know some of the words your child has a problem with, make sure a couple of those words are in the paragraph you write.

Ask them to write something using the word in a different way. Watch the magic again, get excited with the child.

Avoid saying "you spelt it wrong" just make the computer finding mistakes a fun thing, saying things like, "oh look it's found a new word , come on, let's make the computer change/magic it to one it likes."

Rather than "lets make the computer do it right or fix it"

Depending on the ages of the child, get them to write something to their level perhaps only a sentence, then program the spell-check with anything it finds. Do another sentence and so on, until you have found as many of the words commonly used by the child as possible.

Let your child write something by themselves.

Come back, and do the spell-check/auto correct thing, add the new words they have used to auto-correct. Soon you will only have to check occasionally, or when they ask you to "do the Spell-check magic"

I have found that after a few years of using auto-correct, that my spelling improved so much, that I don't use it anymore.  I would so love to have the latest version of  MS Office, as I would love to write much more on this subject, buying a 64 bit computer means the older versions of MS Word no longer worked so I got rid of it. And finances don't exist to buy the latest MS Office. Such is life. :)

Peom: A flower blooms

A flower blooms.

Dark dayz,
Full of tears, 
Anger, 
Frustration,
Nighmares,

Hell on earth,
Some might say,
Kinda feels like it,
Maybe.

Drag my body,
Wracked with pain,
Outside into the sunshine,
Maybe that will help.

Trip and fall,
Only on grass, 
Didn't cause more pain,
And there right in front of my face.

The sweetest, and loveliest little flower.
Growing, where is shouldn't be able to.
I guess no-one told it,
Not to grow. 

Or perhaps, 
It's whole reason for growing, 
Was so it would be there, 
For me to see today, 

Laying on the ground,
Withered body and legs,
Suddenly the world,
Didn't seem so dark.

Alembe 

Poem: War and Peace

War and Peace.

Lost and alone,
feel like giving up,
won't thou,
cause that would mean,
she wins.

She can do her worst,
Kick me where it hurts,
hurt me anyway she wishes,
I can't stop her,
Yet......

But, I can use,
what little energy I have,
to make it thru,
one day,
and then the next,
and the one after,
I won't let her win,
that one last battle.
Cause in the end,
I will win, the war.

I will let her think she's won,
Let her feel smug,
Let down her defences,
Maybe even forget I exist,
Then....

I will be like the phoenix,
and rise from the ashes,
when she least expects it,
showing everyone,
How strong and beautiful,
I really am.

Family History of a .22 rifle Dad owned

Below is an account of events in our family surrounding a .22 rifle Dad owned,

The .22 Rifle.

I grew up, in what my mothers thinks was a pretty normal rural life, my dad owned a 22 rifle, that thinking about it, had quite a history in our family, the 1st stories I heard about it, happened before i was born, but it's been agreed that they happened.



This gun was used several times to kill sick or injured cows and horses, during those years, and I learned to shoot it when I was about 10 or 11. I remember shooting at rabbits, I don't think I actually got one... And my brothers used it for possum shooting, just normal things to do with a gun right... To give you some prospective, the 1st story happened in about 1961. .. as i said, that .22 rifle had a history...



1. My eldest brother had a pet dog, and fox terrier called Trixie, one day when my brother was about 4, he was over at the yards, watching Dad break in a young horse, Trixie was with my brother, something happened, and Trixie started barking, right when the horse went past, the young horse got a fright and jumped over the fence, ripping it's stomach open, apparently it's intestines came out and dragged on the ground as it ran around the paddock.

Dad was understandably angry, and ran into the house, grabbed the gun, and shot the horse, and then Trixie, right in front of my brother.



2. Moving right along, my second eldest brother Toby, got scared about something when he was 3 or 4 I think, so this would have been 8 ti 20 or so months later, anyway, Toby hid under the house, my dad again got the .22 and shot it under the house to "frighten Toby out"....



3. I was next in the family, when I was 4, Mother and Dad had a massive big fight,(nothing new) mother got us out of bed, and told us. with my younger brother who was 18 months younger than me, to run over to the cowshead and hide.



We did, and listened to them fighting for ages, eventually Dad came over, and brought us back to the house, he was carrying the .22, Once home, he lined us up, and said he was going to shoot us, and asked who wanted to go 1st. Instead of being scared, us older kids started fighting about who was going to go 1st, we all wanted to be the No 1... This stunned Dad, and he lost the urge.



4. When my younger brother was about 4, we were playing with the .22 playing cops and robbers i think, anyway we were taking turns at shooting each other... the safety catch was on, anyway my it was my younger brothers turn, and being little he had trouble picking the whole rifle up, and dropped it on a concert floor, and must have it pointed towards the bed, and he pulled the trigger, and and bloody thing was loaded, and went off, we think, when he dropped it, it must have knocked the safety catch off, no-one was hurt, but hell we got a good hiding ( hit repeatedly) from both our parents for that...



5. 3 years or so later, my second brother was about 11 or 12 at the time i think, decided to shoot himself, no-one was home, and he took the .22 out to the back doorstep, and was finding a way to turn a rifle on himself and pull the trigger, when mother and us kids apparently came home...



6. about a year after that, my Mother planned to shoot Dad, she had all us kids in on it, and we had the .22 loaded, safety off, and hiding between the mattress and the wall, where mother planned to grab it from.
Mother did try to shoot Dad that night, but dad pushed the gun upwards, and the bullet when into the ceiling...

7. Again another 4 or so years later, I planned to shot Dad, cause he wouldn't let me watch a TV program. I waited until he came home from his nightshift job, I aimed it out the window, aimed it at his head, pulled the trigger, but the darn safety button was on, and it just clicked, so the moment passed.



8. You guessed about 4 years after that, my eldest brother took that gun, and used it to hold up the Te Puna Hotel bottle store, he didn't shoot it, but scared the hell out of the woman that was working the bottle store.

I don't remember any other history with that bloody .22 but still 8 traumatic episodes in about 14 years is ... well i don't know what to call it. I guess our lives could have been a lot... different if not for that safety button huh.
These were the only normal/traumatic events in our childhoods, not by any stretch of the imagination, these examples are just to do with that gun.
I wonder what effects those events had on us kids. Any thoughts??

Could this be why I’m a couch serial killer, My eldest brother is said to have told stories of him being a serial killer, maybe ...

All I know, is it seems that its just a darn shame that safety catch was on in the 3th episode, maybe this mess of a story could have ended right there for me.

Poem: Lovin

"I love you" "Me to, you."

a touch on the arm,
a smile,
a grin,
a look,
a knowing grin,
back to making a drink...

a look,
a wee smile,
a wink,
a blush,
back to answering an email,

A ear nibbled,
a grin,
a kiss, 
a sigh,
lips touch,
a moan,
reaching out to take you in my arms.

touch,
moan,
caress,
groan,
nibble,
ragged breathe,
kisses, 
body arching, 
licking,
twitching,
sucking,
losing control,
faster,
eye's starey,
harder,
tensing,
everywhere,
release.

Carassing
carassed.,
Kissing, 
kissed,
Loving,
Loved.

Alembe

PoemL Bad Dayz.

Bad Dayz. 2002

Bad Hellish, dayz
Falling
Deep down
Into the pit
Will hit the bottom
And shatter
Into a thousand pieces
Don't care anymore.

Thru the mist,
The clouds of despair,
The broken body's,
The screams of torment souls,
Thru the darkness,

From 8000 miles away,
Faint at first,
Then growing louder
Growing real
But can't hear them,
For the screams.
They are familiar thou.

Arms grab me,
Just as I am
About to hit,
They lift me, 
Out of the pit
Into the light,

That voice,
Saying over and over,
I love you, Girl,
I love you, Girl,
Fill my being,
Heal my soul,
I am Loved.
I Am loved.
I AM LOVED.

Alembe.

• Places I have lived part 5
• Places I have lived part 3
• Places I have lived part 2
• Places I have lived part 1
• 
  

Being a dyslexic writer

Life as a dyslexic writer

My name is Lynny, I’m the owner of this website, and thought you might find the following article interesting.
Having dyslexia and desperately wanting to write is a challenge few could understand or appreciate.
I am not able to spell many words, which a majority of the time the computer spell check takes care of -if I actually know which of the words it offers is the correct one, as many of the words have the same/similar letters.
So it’s often a case of choosing one, and then seeing if the computer picks up that I’ve used a word in the wrong context.  But does that mean the word I actually wanted to use is wrong, or does that mean I have chosen the wrong word from the list of possible options, or what if the word isn’t in the list, what then?
Each time I write an article or content for a webpage, I must get someone else to check what I have written. As well as not spelling correctly, often my thoughts are muddled and don’t come out as I had meant them to, or I over-explain things, making the article difficult to read.
My partner did this proofreading when she had time, but if she didn’t have time to do it as soon as she received it, often it would get forgotten. The good thing about asking my partner to do it was that she could ask me what I meant with some particular sentence which meant that what I was trying to convey wasn’t lost.
This of course couldn’t work if anyone else was doing it, they could really only check my spelling syntax etc and wouldn’t feel confident changing whole parts of what I had written.
Before I met people that could check my spelling I would often be considered an idiot, as only idiots can’t spell RIGHT? and would you believe, one of these people was actually a teacher so goodness help her students.
Growing up I was considered an stupid as well and was put into the dummy’s class, simply because of my lack of written skills. It wasn’t until I meet my present partner and speaking to me on MSN with headphones and the phone, she picked up that I was indeed very intelligent, I simply couldn’t spell.
She found a website online that had some sort of questionnaire and if you had a certain number of these symptoms you probably had dyslexia, I had all but three of the 50 or so symptoms.
Funnily enough that made me feel better, proving that I wasn’t a dummy or stupid as I had always believed.
But back to life now as a dyslexic (ghee’s I wish they would find an easier word to spell for this condition, every time I use it I have to look it up!)  Anyway, life as a dyslexic is a struggle, especially when you want to write, when you love to write.  People that know me say that they have to learn a new language when they start to talk to me on a chat program or through emails, they call it Lynnese and say it’s very easy to pick up.
Many words I spell are spelt like they sound, and I’m forever mixing up words like “their and there” , “live and life”, and “how and who” “quite and quiet”.
Dyslexia is an odd condition, well the version I have of it is. Often I know all the letters that are in a word, just not what order they come in, and often I can tell when a word is spelt wrong, even though I have no idea how to spell it right.
I have a list of words on the wall that I use all the time which I never have learnt how to spell.  Also on the list is my address and phone number which I can never remember, I always mix up the sequence the numbers come in if I don’t look at them while I’m saying them on the phone or typing them.
I was going to leave this article as it was written, to show you what my writing looks like, but just looking back at Word’s spell check it’s far too embarrassing.
So I’ll send it away, and get someone to check it for me, and only let you all see the way it was supposed to be without you getting caught up in the spelling and grammatical mistakes.
Can anyone think of any other way one of us might spell dyslexic, i have done it these ways, dislexsick, dislexic, disslexsic, dyslexsick, dislexsyck, dyslici, dislesic .... you really do think they could have thought of an easier word/label to spell huh?

My name is Kym; I am Lynny’s partner, proof reader and general partner in crime and business.
I am a fairly good proof reader, my English, while American verses Lynny's New Zealand, is usually pretty good and I am a fair technical writer.
I do not have the skills, or the inclination to be an author, blogger or general communicator when it comes to the written word. My imagination is bent towards the images and websites I create. I love a conversation with an intelligent articulate person that is able to investigate all the pros and cons of a good logical argument or conversation.
Lynny has been my partner for over 10 years and she never ceases to amaze me with her humor, intelligence and willingness to overcome any and all difficulties life throws her way. I have never wasted my time correcting her spelling unless I am proof reading her articles, musings and web pages. I do not see the point, she is able to do the thing so many of us cannot… she can verbalize and put to webpage many things on multiple subjects in a concise logical well thought out manner. Quite frankly, the fact that she is spelling, grammar and syntax challenged is pretty irrelevant.
I do not find a person particularly cutting edge because they are able to correct other peoples spelling mistakes and not create anything original themselves. As you can see, there is a reason Lynny writes and I merely proofread.

Poem: Serial Killer started

"How many people did you kill today."

I go back thru me day, that accident, I nearly had this morning, made that stupid woman think she was to blame. hehehe. 
Quiet day otherwise.

That woman, the other party drove off, upset that I yelled at her, just like her husband did this morning, just like her boss would because she was late....later delivering a package, tears in her eye's, she swerved to miss a dog, but not far enough, thump thump...in front of a truck... died on impact.....

"Blackie, Blackie. oh god not Blackie" A teenager picks up the limp dog, Fucken bitch, killed my dog...

Well don't bring that thing in here, it's got blood on it, go throw it in the dumpster....watch my carpet.....the teenager picks up a gun, fucken woman, I hate them...heading to the lounge, where his mother is watching TV..... Her First... 

I'm going to be late, nasty accident that one, poor dog...but I can't stop, the kids will be home soon, and I won't be there..
At home, little Angela picks up a fork, and tries to dig the burnt bread out of the toaster.... ..... 

Mum comes in, hmm there's no power, I payed the bill......Angela, are you here....Silence......ANGELAAAAAAA...911...help, my little girl...help....
hell, we are busy tonight, dispatch a unit 7453 go to a child electrucuted. 

I'll send 7236, to old Mr Patterson instead. Stan Patterson, clutched his chest, and slumped..his last thought....where are they...

The old lady,sitting in her cold, dark apartment, watching the TV news, a tear slides down her face, I've had enough, she thinks, as her crippled hands reaches for the bottle of pill's.....
It's only 7.30 pm.

Alembe