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  • Mother Shyra 19:57 on 28 April 2008 Permalink | Reply  

    28 Apr 2008 


    “To believe in the heroic makes heroes.” -Napolean Hill

    *******I believe in heroes.  My mom, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa, Oprah and Bono, are all heroes to me.  The accomplishments they have made in the face of adversity are astounding to me.  They inspire me to be great and to make my mark in society.  Like they believed, I believe my potential is limitless and boundless.  Any time I start to think about how hard it will be to accomplish my goals, I think of them, throw my shoulders back, lift my head up and continue to take forward steps on my path.*******



    (transitive verb, noun)

    transitive verb

    1. to pamper: “If you cosset him like this, John will get used to it and will never clean or cook anything on his own.”


    2. a pet, especially a pet lamb

    Approximately 1550; possibly from Anglo-Norman, ‘coscet’: lamb reared by hand; from Old English, ‘cotsaeta’: literally, cottage-dweller (‘cot’: cottage + ‘saeta’: inhabitant).

    I’m not one to cosset…unless I’m in love.  It’s been a long time since I’ve been in love.  Oh, I’ve loved, but being in love is totally different.  The man I’m in love with, never wants for anything.  I’ll cosset him mind body and soul.  It just feels good.  It’s what is right.  I expect the same thing in return.  Relationships are a two way street.  You give and you get back, but you don’t only give to get back, nor do you give only when given to.  It can be quite hard when you factor in past hurts from failed relationships, but if you can ignore the ego (which is a must to nurture a successful relationship), you CAN have a life-long loving relationship with someone you adore and likewise.*******

  • Mother Shyra 03:01 on 28 April 2008 Permalink | Reply  

    l’m Not 19 Anymore 

    I feel like hell on a popsicle stick…and I do believe I closely resemble it.  Somehow, the fact that I am not 19 anymore, seemed to elude me this weekend.  I also believe doing the master cleanse has effected my tolerance for alcohol.  I can’t drink as much anymore and I only drink when I’m out with friends.  That’s the way it’s supposed to be.  However, things change when the drinks are handed to me as if I am the resident alcoholic.  I used to drink all the male military cops under the table.  Now, I feel like someone beat me savagely with that same table.  Never again I tell ya.  Well…maybe on Memorial Day.  Hey…it is a celebratory day ya know! 😉

  • Mother Shyra 00:36 on 28 April 2008 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: ,   

    How I dotheth suckethetheth 

    I’ve stumbled upon a life-altering epiphany.  I am a jerk to men.  Never in the history of jerkdom, has a woman been so successful at being a jerk.  I think it’s entirely due to the fact that I operate with a male mind.  For the most part.  I grew up playing tackle football, jumping off of rooftops and killing snails with salt.  Then, I decide to become a military police officer.  Do you notice the problematic pattern here?  This jerkishness is so embedded in my psyche that I don’t notice what I am doing until it is all said and done and I’m suffering from the repercussions pure jerkishness can only inspire.  On the surface, it seems quite trivial to me (except for the unreturned phone calls and icy demeanor when I feel as though I’ve had enough), but I have noticed merely mentioning being interested in another man incites retaliatory behavior known to be best carried out by boys.  It doesn’t matter how old the man is.  Within the past week, I have incited male jerkdom from a 35-year-old and a 60-year-old.  Apparently, there isn’t an age limit on jealousy-inspired boyish-jerkdom.  I think if a man is 99 with all but his left pinky toe in the grave, he will STILL be capable of acting like a 16-year-old boy that got his feelings hurt.  Ho hum…from this day forward, I am making a valid attempt at being nicer to men.  I think the retaliatory one-upping hurts more than my lackadaisical regard for men’s feelings.  Then again, I am only standing in my own shoes. 

    I have also realized that I have not been in a relationship that lasted longer than three months.  I was married for 7 years, but I tried to jump ship 5 months into that.  For me, the love lasted for a total of 9 months.  Being pregnant and living in Germany and him begging me to stay, are what kept me in the marriage.  Otherwise, it would have been the same story.  I tried counseling, but he thought it was a dumb idea.  I grew up without a father and the moment I sense father-like control or any type of disrespect, I’m gone on the next flight out.  No questions, no chances.  I realize this long trail of failed relationships is not beneficial to me or the men I have been involved with.  Yes, I suckethetheth…I admit it.  However, I am changing.  Being nice may feel weird at first, but I’m sure it’ll start feeling good before I realize it.  Wish me luck! 😉 

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