Today was SOOOO gorgeous. There were a lot of big puffy white clouds that I love, but still the sun shone through them. I took my sister to visit Zach. No visit for me this time, but she's making sure I get on the list, finally. I wrote him a nice long, juicy fat letter to keep him company. My sister said the visit went awesome, so that's good. Last time she came home crying.:/
It was good to just chill with her all normal like. Not wondering, no one being defensive, just driving and singing. She's doing...so much better. I love it. She seems more content and that makes me feel more relaxed, like I don't have to think about her every minute.
There were a few bumps on the ride. But it was a five hour drive. Has to be expected right? I don't know of any road that's completely smooth. Do you?
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Thinking
Do you know how movies/television show women vigorously scrubbing themselves in the shower after having been raped (I'm not talking about just cleaning themselves because sex is messy)? People tend to think it's because they feel dirty at having been violated in such a horrific way, and they do feel dirty I'm sure, but I think it's because of the smell, really.
It's such a personal thing-our distinctive aroma that belongs only to us. And I'm not talking about b.o., or perfume, or soap or shampoos and lotions-but all of it combined which makes up our smell. We generally can't smell it on ourselves. But someone lying beneath our sheets or on our pillow can smell it. Someone lifting an article of clothing to their nose and inhaling can smell it. And these are the things that make us familiar with each other. I know the scents of my mother, my siblings, my friends, my lovers. And it's comforting knowing.
When you make love with someone, their smell remains all over you because of such close proximity. It's on your face, your neck, your chest, even your arms..you can lift your arm to run your hand through your hair and smell this other person. So you can one can only imagine how completely disgusting it would be to have such a foreign smell all over your skin, the smell of someone who violated your body in such a...indescribable manner. Maybe the smell is why women who are abused tend to go one of two ways-all about sex or not at all about it. The reserved woman associates such personal smells with violent sexual acts and therefore wants none but her own. And the promiscuous woman can't forget the smell of her attacker and is ceaseless in her quest to remove it's odor from her memory-by replacing it with as many others as possible.
I wish I could understand why people molest and rape. I mean, I understand what psych's say about it, but I just....don't understand.
Have you noticed that we don't really use the word "molest" anymore? It generally referred to children. "She was molested as a child". But now we say "abused". Why? It's such an ambiguous word. It could mean absolutely anything and nothing at the same time. Isn't every child abused in some kind of way during childhood?
I think "molest" is too definitive, too harsh and real, for people who have been sexually abused. It brings up feelings of humilation, shame, "why didn't I stop this, how could I let this happen, I must have deserved it" kind of neurosis. But the thing is, we kind of validate those feelings by using a prettier, less offensive word.
You weren't molested-you were abused. You weren't raped-you were sexually assaulted.
Anyway...I don't know. I'm having these icky, disgusting anxiety attacks lately. I say disgusting because I find it disgusting. To be that out of control of my own self. Fill me with liquor, give me ten lines...and I will feel far more in control than that feeling. Because I can set down those physical objects if it becomes too much and I know that a good sleep will get rid of it, but I can't make my breath come more easily. I can't force down the bile that rises to the very top of my throat. I can't stop the erratic beating of my heart or fill the hollow that feels physical pain right above my rib cage. How can something feel hollow and also feel hurt? So fucking weird. The power is in how it comes and goes as it pleases, without any say so from me. That's a pretty fierce power.
I have so much to say. So much to say that I don't say. I wonder at you all being in wonder of my honesty. Because I feel like I'm not saying it. I feel like I'm choking on what I want to say...all the time. I don't know that you can feel it and it would be so much easier if someone could just crawl up inside me and know and then I wouldn't even have to explain it. And I could continue ignoring it and my mind could "delete, delete, delete".
Oh, I crave normalcy.
It's such a personal thing-our distinctive aroma that belongs only to us. And I'm not talking about b.o., or perfume, or soap or shampoos and lotions-but all of it combined which makes up our smell. We generally can't smell it on ourselves. But someone lying beneath our sheets or on our pillow can smell it. Someone lifting an article of clothing to their nose and inhaling can smell it. And these are the things that make us familiar with each other. I know the scents of my mother, my siblings, my friends, my lovers. And it's comforting knowing.
When you make love with someone, their smell remains all over you because of such close proximity. It's on your face, your neck, your chest, even your arms..you can lift your arm to run your hand through your hair and smell this other person. So you can one can only imagine how completely disgusting it would be to have such a foreign smell all over your skin, the smell of someone who violated your body in such a...indescribable manner. Maybe the smell is why women who are abused tend to go one of two ways-all about sex or not at all about it. The reserved woman associates such personal smells with violent sexual acts and therefore wants none but her own. And the promiscuous woman can't forget the smell of her attacker and is ceaseless in her quest to remove it's odor from her memory-by replacing it with as many others as possible.
I wish I could understand why people molest and rape. I mean, I understand what psych's say about it, but I just....don't understand.
Have you noticed that we don't really use the word "molest" anymore? It generally referred to children. "She was molested as a child". But now we say "abused". Why? It's such an ambiguous word. It could mean absolutely anything and nothing at the same time. Isn't every child abused in some kind of way during childhood?
I think "molest" is too definitive, too harsh and real, for people who have been sexually abused. It brings up feelings of humilation, shame, "why didn't I stop this, how could I let this happen, I must have deserved it" kind of neurosis. But the thing is, we kind of validate those feelings by using a prettier, less offensive word.
You weren't molested-you were abused. You weren't raped-you were sexually assaulted.
Anyway...I don't know. I'm having these icky, disgusting anxiety attacks lately. I say disgusting because I find it disgusting. To be that out of control of my own self. Fill me with liquor, give me ten lines...and I will feel far more in control than that feeling. Because I can set down those physical objects if it becomes too much and I know that a good sleep will get rid of it, but I can't make my breath come more easily. I can't force down the bile that rises to the very top of my throat. I can't stop the erratic beating of my heart or fill the hollow that feels physical pain right above my rib cage. How can something feel hollow and also feel hurt? So fucking weird. The power is in how it comes and goes as it pleases, without any say so from me. That's a pretty fierce power.
I have so much to say. So much to say that I don't say. I wonder at you all being in wonder of my honesty. Because I feel like I'm not saying it. I feel like I'm choking on what I want to say...all the time. I don't know that you can feel it and it would be so much easier if someone could just crawl up inside me and know and then I wouldn't even have to explain it. And I could continue ignoring it and my mind could "delete, delete, delete".
Oh, I crave normalcy.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Parties and Presidents
Cris and Holly are coming to Austin tomorrow. This deserves big w00ts. They rarely get a chance to go anywhere because they have kids..families. In the entire 2 1/2 years I've lived here, they've never visited. And I totally understand. But, tomorrow they shall be 1 hour away from me-in an ultra fun city, childless, husbandless and we are definitely going to get our girls-night-out-party on. I think I'm going to wear something hella sexy, maybe I'll go so far as slutty (relax, feminazis) because I feel like daring to be different. I usually dress kinda conservative and plain. Omg, is this what life is boiling down to-deciding what to wear? haha
On a seemingly more substantial note-do you know what I was thinking? Not only does Barack Obama have the pressure on for becoming the first African American president-but also the pressure of doing exceedingly well. If he doesn't, he'll go down as the not only the first African American president but one who failed. And all the racist naysayers will say, "look! see there! didn't we tell you?!" This man has a lot on his plate. He is setting the precedent-in some people's eyes, anyway. I don't envy him and I wish him all the skill combined with the luck the world has to offer.
Now, I'm off to nap.
On a seemingly more substantial note-do you know what I was thinking? Not only does Barack Obama have the pressure on for becoming the first African American president-but also the pressure of doing exceedingly well. If he doesn't, he'll go down as the not only the first African American president but one who failed. And all the racist naysayers will say, "look! see there! didn't we tell you?!" This man has a lot on his plate. He is setting the precedent-in some people's eyes, anyway. I don't envy him and I wish him all the skill combined with the luck the world has to offer.
Now, I'm off to nap.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
The Olympic Games and some other *stuff*
It seems a lot of people find the Olympic Games rather enjoyable. I can't say that I'm one of those people really, though I don't find it totally unenjoyable or anything. It's just not something I would turn on the television for to specifically watch...but then, I don't watch much tv at all. Anyway. It was on all the big screens at O'Neill's last night so I got kind of caught up in it. Women's/girl's gymnastics, whatever you call it. I thought I'd share a peek into my mind...
So, the girls were getting up to do their thing on the balance beam and you know how the camera zooms like RIGHT into their face for the "woah tense" factor? So I start analying all these girls and giving them a full life freaking story. lol. I'm like, "oh this one isn't wearing any make up at all, I wonder if her parent's or coach are really strict, this one looks totally pissed off-I wonder if she's just nervous or she's traumatized by years of training, oh wow, this one is the only one who smiled at all-she must have a really good support system, oh shit-this one just fell-is her coach going to ream her out and make her feel more bad than she already does". And then my mind goes to play out the events of what I think has already happened or what will happen afterwards. When the girl from China fell and you could see her trying to hold in her tears, I could barely hold in my own tears because I kept thinking that once the cameras turned off, her coach was going to stop hugging her and start berating her.
This is why I don't watch much television.
Saving Grace? I've seen it two times, this past monday was the second time. Intense city. Seriously. Holly Hunter's eyes? Good god, how you could get lost in them. She's definitely a member of the race of Joseph. A swamp person. Feeling radiates out of that woman and it can't just all be good acting. She has a story...I'm sure. We all have stories, but she has a story. And now that I'm all into her and the show it's the season finale? Wtf? I thought this was the time when shows started, not ended.
Alrighty, well. That's all for today.
So, the girls were getting up to do their thing on the balance beam and you know how the camera zooms like RIGHT into their face for the "woah tense" factor? So I start analying all these girls and giving them a full life freaking story. lol. I'm like, "oh this one isn't wearing any make up at all, I wonder if her parent's or coach are really strict, this one looks totally pissed off-I wonder if she's just nervous or she's traumatized by years of training, oh wow, this one is the only one who smiled at all-she must have a really good support system, oh shit-this one just fell-is her coach going to ream her out and make her feel more bad than she already does". And then my mind goes to play out the events of what I think has already happened or what will happen afterwards. When the girl from China fell and you could see her trying to hold in her tears, I could barely hold in my own tears because I kept thinking that once the cameras turned off, her coach was going to stop hugging her and start berating her.
This is why I don't watch much television.
Saving Grace? I've seen it two times, this past monday was the second time. Intense city. Seriously. Holly Hunter's eyes? Good god, how you could get lost in them. She's definitely a member of the race of Joseph. A swamp person. Feeling radiates out of that woman and it can't just all be good acting. She has a story...I'm sure. We all have stories, but she has a story. And now that I'm all into her and the show it's the season finale? Wtf? I thought this was the time when shows started, not ended.
Alrighty, well. That's all for today.
Monday, August 18, 2008
If I
I'm in a writing mood....
If I can't stretch my body from to and fro
Or force my eyes upon the early morning light
If I can't put feet to floor and amble towards the door
and start my day with a new day's delight
If I can't...if I can't do all of this and more
Would you believe how hard I tried
and would you give me up, this life?
If I can't stop being tormented by all my yesterdays
or learn the forgiveness of the enlightened man's way
If I can't quite make a smile reach my eyes
and beguile a lover's love with simple laughter
If I can't...if I can't make any of it matter
Would you believe how hard I tried
and would you give me up, this life?
If I can't focus my tortured gaze
or tighten the grip of survival's clutch
If I can't find my way out of this desperate haze
and resist the impulse to recoil from Adam's touch
If I can't...if I can't do even this much
Would you believe how hard I tried
and would you give me up, this life?
If I walked down the dirty, dusty line of every righteous Southern church
and embraced each letter of the written word in the hardest of stoic worship
If in every whoop, hoorah, amen, I praised your name
Again, again!
If I offered to you and him and her and to all of them
My tempting flesh, my twice baked blood and aching bones
My frozen heart, my weary mind and battered soul
Would you cast me aside in the old testament style of denial
or would you tenderly cradle me in your hands.. and would you finally believe?
Upon knowing me
Would you, then, believe how hard I have tried?
And, please, dear god, jesus christ
The savior of all who didn't save me
Tell me, for me, you would give me up....this life.
If I can't stretch my body from to and fro
Or force my eyes upon the early morning light
If I can't put feet to floor and amble towards the door
and start my day with a new day's delight
If I can't...if I can't do all of this and more
Would you believe how hard I tried
and would you give me up, this life?
If I can't stop being tormented by all my yesterdays
or learn the forgiveness of the enlightened man's way
If I can't quite make a smile reach my eyes
and beguile a lover's love with simple laughter
If I can't...if I can't make any of it matter
Would you believe how hard I tried
and would you give me up, this life?
If I can't focus my tortured gaze
or tighten the grip of survival's clutch
If I can't find my way out of this desperate haze
and resist the impulse to recoil from Adam's touch
If I can't...if I can't do even this much
Would you believe how hard I tried
and would you give me up, this life?
If I walked down the dirty, dusty line of every righteous Southern church
and embraced each letter of the written word in the hardest of stoic worship
If in every whoop, hoorah, amen, I praised your name
Again, again!
If I offered to you and him and her and to all of them
My tempting flesh, my twice baked blood and aching bones
My frozen heart, my weary mind and battered soul
Would you cast me aside in the old testament style of denial
or would you tenderly cradle me in your hands.. and would you finally believe?
Upon knowing me
Would you, then, believe how hard I have tried?
And, please, dear god, jesus christ
The savior of all who didn't save me
Tell me, for me, you would give me up....this life.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Remind me..
It's in there, skirting around the boundaries
pushing through the spiderweb strong layers that lay
unprotected by the promise of gods answered prayers
Here in this place, this wasteful place of thought
You want to remind me
You want to remember me
Act one, Scene Two, Take a thousand times again
The audience is tensely waiting for your story to begin
Walk us through the tale of your sad and crippled life
Enjoy the taunting tone that creeps into your voice
But hope that they don't hear it
Because, of course, you had no choice
Innocence and beauty tantalize as far back as original sin
Persuade them that it's a temptation not all can hold within
remind me
remember me
Turn down the corners of your mouth, extend apologies
at the "truth" you've yearned to let unloose
For a group of peers are watching
as you produce your last excuse
Tell them that you knew no better
convince them that you've changed
This time, molest them with manipulation
in order to make your great exchange
remind me
remember me
Open up pandora's box
and with a million dollar pretense
act like you're surprised
Fix your face to show your shock
at the horrific, resounding cries
Wrap it back up and tie it with a bloodstained bow
then casually forget you've just released
a pain that never goes
pushing through the spiderweb strong layers that lay
unprotected by the promise of gods answered prayers
Here in this place, this wasteful place of thought
You want to remind me
You want to remember me
Act one, Scene Two, Take a thousand times again
The audience is tensely waiting for your story to begin
Walk us through the tale of your sad and crippled life
Enjoy the taunting tone that creeps into your voice
But hope that they don't hear it
Because, of course, you had no choice
Innocence and beauty tantalize as far back as original sin
Persuade them that it's a temptation not all can hold within
remind me
remember me
Turn down the corners of your mouth, extend apologies
at the "truth" you've yearned to let unloose
For a group of peers are watching
as you produce your last excuse
Tell them that you knew no better
convince them that you've changed
This time, molest them with manipulation
in order to make your great exchange
remind me
remember me
Open up pandora's box
and with a million dollar pretense
act like you're surprised
Fix your face to show your shock
at the horrific, resounding cries
Wrap it back up and tie it with a bloodstained bow
then casually forget you've just released
a pain that never goes
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Blog Forgotten
So, awhile back I went to the East Coast. To visit you guys. Yes, you, who visit me here. ;-) I realized I never blogged about my experience. And I've made new connections and want to share my story.
32 years ago, just a zygote in my mom's belly...okay, j/k. Seriously, I was born and raised in Houston, Texas and lived there all of my life until 2 3/4 years ago. The only time I've traveled was to Florida and Puerta Vallarta-and all the travel arrangements were made, down the detail, for me. This is significant. Why?
So, last year I hooked up with the rsummer photo group. From there it's been one flickr group after another. In the process, I made some flickrfriends, rblogger buddies. Connections. My "real life" friends don't get it really. The connections between what they basically deem strangers. But the connection is there. And it's strong. For me. For whatever reason and a reason I don't find the need to define, defend, or even understand. It's one of those things that just is.
Their impact on me has been various, and oftentimes, great. We share stories and remember whens as if we've known each other for years. Real life laughter, Real Life tears, Real Life great joys, and Real Life great sorrows. These are the things that build a bond of friendship, no matter how far the physical distance. In the last two weeks, I've done a lot of reflecting on these relationships...and what I came up with was this...
We came together because of our admiration/love/obsession/whatever for Roseann Theresa O'Donnell. And I met her. Because of them. But you know...I don't even remember my first glimpse of her walking on stage. I can't picture it no matter how hard I try.
But I remember watching KellyW pull up in her minivan and run over to help me with my suitcase. I see Kim and M pulling up in their car in front of Kelly's house and coming in with their delicious rb4peace pie. I remember Liz jumping out of the car at the train station to give me a huge hug. I can see Deb walking into the lobby of her office building, with such an infectious grin....Jyl walking over to Liz's car, in the middle of her son's baseball game, and welcoming me with the kind chatter reserved for an old friend....Michele pulling up behind us in the parking lot of the hotel in Atlantic City and coming up to my window...seeing Rosa from across the lobby of the Borgata and greeting me with a hug like no other, and words that could melt your heart.
Significant, no? Why? And why because of them?
Well. In different ways, most of them have made me believe that all things are possible. A year ago, I would never have traveled alone...moreso because of some belief that I couldn't. After knowing them, not only did I travel alone-I traveled all around, I went to Virginia, D.C., Conneticut, New York City, Atlantic City, and Philadelphia in a two week span. All the way from Texas.
So...I traveled around several different states, attended an Autism Rally (and a huge thanks to my would be No No roomie, Kellyg, for understanding), met Rosie O'Donnell, went to my first broadway show, laughed, cried and had fun..with friends. Without them, I would never have done anything like that. But they said, you can do it. And they helped me to know how to do it.
Anyways. It was a great experience. So I put it all together in a video- It looked way better on my computer than it does in youtube, for some reason. Enjoy.
I hope to meet many more friends!
32 years ago, just a zygote in my mom's belly...okay, j/k. Seriously, I was born and raised in Houston, Texas and lived there all of my life until 2 3/4 years ago. The only time I've traveled was to Florida and Puerta Vallarta-and all the travel arrangements were made, down the detail, for me. This is significant. Why?
So, last year I hooked up with the rsummer photo group. From there it's been one flickr group after another. In the process, I made some flickrfriends, rblogger buddies. Connections. My "real life" friends don't get it really. The connections between what they basically deem strangers. But the connection is there. And it's strong. For me. For whatever reason and a reason I don't find the need to define, defend, or even understand. It's one of those things that just is.
Their impact on me has been various, and oftentimes, great. We share stories and remember whens as if we've known each other for years. Real life laughter, Real Life tears, Real Life great joys, and Real Life great sorrows. These are the things that build a bond of friendship, no matter how far the physical distance. In the last two weeks, I've done a lot of reflecting on these relationships...and what I came up with was this...
We came together because of our admiration/love/obsession/whatever for Roseann Theresa O'Donnell. And I met her. Because of them. But you know...I don't even remember my first glimpse of her walking on stage. I can't picture it no matter how hard I try.
But I remember watching KellyW pull up in her minivan and run over to help me with my suitcase. I see Kim and M pulling up in their car in front of Kelly's house and coming in with their delicious rb4peace pie. I remember Liz jumping out of the car at the train station to give me a huge hug. I can see Deb walking into the lobby of her office building, with such an infectious grin....Jyl walking over to Liz's car, in the middle of her son's baseball game, and welcoming me with the kind chatter reserved for an old friend....Michele pulling up behind us in the parking lot of the hotel in Atlantic City and coming up to my window...seeing Rosa from across the lobby of the Borgata and greeting me with a hug like no other, and words that could melt your heart.
Significant, no? Why? And why because of them?
Well. In different ways, most of them have made me believe that all things are possible. A year ago, I would never have traveled alone...moreso because of some belief that I couldn't. After knowing them, not only did I travel alone-I traveled all around, I went to Virginia, D.C., Conneticut, New York City, Atlantic City, and Philadelphia in a two week span. All the way from Texas.
So...I traveled around several different states, attended an Autism Rally (and a huge thanks to my would be No No roomie, Kellyg, for understanding), met Rosie O'Donnell, went to my first broadway show, laughed, cried and had fun..with friends. Without them, I would never have done anything like that. But they said, you can do it. And they helped me to know how to do it.
Anyways. It was a great experience. So I put it all together in a video- It looked way better on my computer than it does in youtube, for some reason. Enjoy.
I hope to meet many more friends!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Happy Birthday To Me
I'm going to Houston shortly. To go to church. For my birthday. What? Seriously...what?
Hah, no, my best friend's sister is singing solo in her church so I'm going to catch that first, though I guess a visit to the house of god is a good enough reason? Sorry, I'm not religious.
Afterwards, lunch with a few of the homefries. After that, a nap. After that, party central. Maybe, but probably not. I kid too much, I think. Anyway, pretty low key. And that's okay. This was spur of the moment. I wasn't going to go since I'm moving there so soon anyway, but...well, I wanna. I've always celebrated my birthday with my friends...
But. My earholes closed. So I don't get to wear my shiny hoops.
Present time? All you random-from-everywhere-says-my-statcounter, no name bloggers can wish me a happy birthday. xx
Peace and love, homefries.
Hah, no, my best friend's sister is singing solo in her church so I'm going to catch that first, though I guess a visit to the house of god is a good enough reason? Sorry, I'm not religious.
Afterwards, lunch with a few of the homefries. After that, a nap. After that, party central. Maybe, but probably not. I kid too much, I think. Anyway, pretty low key. And that's okay. This was spur of the moment. I wasn't going to go since I'm moving there so soon anyway, but...well, I wanna. I've always celebrated my birthday with my friends...
But. My earholes closed. So I don't get to wear my shiny hoops.
Present time? All you random-from-everywhere-says-my-statcounter, no name bloggers can wish me a happy birthday. xx
Peace and love, homefries.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
The Urge To Fix It
"u r making he sick" he yelled
his faced puffed and red
"i want these off of me"
pulling at the heart monitor wires
the urge to go fix it
is overwhelming for me
i feel physically compelled
2 try and hold him
i have to talk myself out of it
- there r professionals here
- u dont know him
- this is not an appropriate reaction
i feel too much
Borrowed from here: http://www.rosie.com/
I've thought about those words often in the last week. They keep rolling around in my head. What sticks out is..."this is not an appropriate reaction".
But...is it not?
For me, to feel nothing, to not feel compelled to console him, to not feel great urges to help someone in need would be the inappropriate, and even unnatural, reaction. But...because we are encouraged to be a numbed down, psychologically driven society, we think the opposite nowadays.
It worries me.
America's growing loss of community feeling....or feeling, at all.
The urge to not fix it, to not feel it, is...well, the equivalent of apathy.
If everyone felt compelled to save everyone, perhaps then there would be no one in need of saving.
I have lots more thoughts on this. The differences between today and yesterday, the cultural differences, class differences...the who, what and whys of it. But it's all so heavy..
his faced puffed and red
"i want these off of me"
pulling at the heart monitor wires
the urge to go fix it
is overwhelming for me
i feel physically compelled
2 try and hold him
i have to talk myself out of it
- there r professionals here
- u dont know him
- this is not an appropriate reaction
i feel too much
Borrowed from here: http://www.rosie.com/
I've thought about those words often in the last week. They keep rolling around in my head. What sticks out is..."this is not an appropriate reaction".
But...is it not?
For me, to feel nothing, to not feel compelled to console him, to not feel great urges to help someone in need would be the inappropriate, and even unnatural, reaction. But...because we are encouraged to be a numbed down, psychologically driven society, we think the opposite nowadays.
It worries me.
America's growing loss of community feeling....or feeling, at all.
The urge to not fix it, to not feel it, is...well, the equivalent of apathy.
If everyone felt compelled to save everyone, perhaps then there would be no one in need of saving.
I have lots more thoughts on this. The differences between today and yesterday, the cultural differences, class differences...the who, what and whys of it. But it's all so heavy..
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Hope
I had to say goodbye to Hope for now. Her music makes me sad and everytime I sign in, I listen to it over and over.
I'm trying to write. It's hard. I'm not really feeling the worth right now, and that's so lame. Soon.
I'm trying to write. It's hard. I'm not really feeling the worth right now, and that's so lame. Soon.
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