S.E. Isaac's Blog, page 51
February 22, 2016
Focus…
Ugh. Where have the weeks, days, minutes, seconds gone? It seems like Christmas was approaching and now we are almost to March. I still haven’t gotten anywhere with my next book.
My personal life has placed my writing career on the backburner. I have to get balance back in my family before I can proceed. But how do I get balance, when writing is my balance?
My son with autism is struggling with so many personality and behavioral issues. I honestly believe he will be diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder when he comes of the age 18. (right now, they cannot diagnose him with that since he is not an ‘adult’) My house is either tiptoeing on eggshells or a warzone. I have grown exhausted of walking on eggshells in my own house!
Getting him on the bus has become a nightmare as well. He now finds it funny to run off and/or lay on the ground & refuse to get up when the bus arrives. When he misses the bus, I then have to take him to school. Once we pull up, he is darting out of the van and away from the school laughing. Him running off is a game. A game that I do not want to play and a game that can end horribly.
Admitting him to a psych ward proved to be…a waste of time. He manipulated the staff and showed them no outbursts, except when I came to visit him. However, his behavior isn’t just with me. His behavior is now directed towards other family members, ‘pretty women’, teachers and classmates. He no longer cares who he hurts. The more upset someone is the funnier it is.
One moment he is angry and the next moment he is crying saying ‘I don’t want to be bad!’. His tears are genuine, but heaven forbid, I don’t hear or see him crying to ask ‘what’s wrong?’ because he goes back off the deep end. He has to be the center of attention no matter his emotion, time or place.
My sweet angel has become a child I barely recognize.
If we are friends and I am distant, I assure you, it is not you. My own personality is seeping through my fingers and I find it hard to gather myself. It is my hopes that this storm will soon pass. Just hang in with me for a little bit longer…
S.E.Isaac
February 17, 2016
We should rename the word ‘West’
Of course I will. If I didn’t then what kind of highly opinionated woman would I be? (ha)
Kanye is a little girl, who needs her hand held. How is it that he has had millions of dollars, yet, now he needs the help from the ‘little people’ to fill his wallet? $35 donations to help this ass wipe? Are you kidding me? Where in the hell is America headed to when we are now supporting celebrities financially?
If you donate to Kanye’s fundme page, you should highly consider not having children. I assure you, society will thank you in advance.
Harsh? Yes. F’s given? None.
S.E.Isaac
February 14, 2016
Sneak Peek!
Train to Anguish
by: S.E.Isaac
(Chapter 4’s snippet)
I don’t know how long I was in the simulator or how long I sat in the darkness crying. I heard the door open and I wiped my eyes. I turned my head in the direction of the light and saw War Advisor Jennings standing there.
“You may exit, Armistice.”
I slowly moved off the chair and made my way out of the cursed room. They were all staring at me.
“What information were you given, Armistice?
“Nothing, sir,” I said facing the wall in front of me.
“I will not ask you again, Armistice. What information were you given?”
With my head held high and eyes puffy, I turned my head and faced him. “Nothing, sir!”
His face grew angry. “Final answer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take her to the water tank!” he growled.
Two of the councilman took me by my arms and walked me down the hallway, with War Advisor Jennings and other councilmen following behind. I didn’t say anything because I honestly didn’t care what they had in store for me next. They had subjected me to watching the one person I loved most be tortured.
They walked me through the dining hall and the room fell silent. I caught Trials looking at me in horror as I was led through the room. He began to rise from his chair but Aiyetoro held him in place.
We walked through the doors and down a set of stairs. They opened a door marked ‘Tank’ and pulled me through it. In the corner of the room was a giant glass tank with stairs leading up to the top of it. The two councilmen released my arms.
“Up the stairs, Armistice,” War Advisor Jennings said.
I didn’t argue, simply walked up the stairs like a robot. The top of the tank was open.
“Into the tank, Armistice!”
I climbed into the tank without dispute. A lid lowered from the ceiling and fastened down onto the top of the tank.
“What information were you given, Armistice?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Armistice,” he warned, “If you fail to tell me, the tank will begin to fill with water.”
“So be it.”
I turned my back to War Advisor Jennings and the councilmen. The tank began filling with water. My feet were soon submerged, then my waist. Finally, it reached my neck.
“Tell me the information you were given.”
“No.”
The water continued to rise and soon was up to my nose. Water trickled into my nostrils. I tread water to keep my nose above the surface. There were only a few inches between the water line and the lid. I continued treading water. Right as the water was about to engulf me, I took a sharp breath in and held it. I turned so the councilman could see me.
“What information were you given?” War Advisor Jennings shouted.
I shook my head no. I could feel my lungs tightening and my body wanted to take a deep breath. I had never been one for underwater swimming, so I knew my lung capacity was not my strong point.
“What information were you given?” Again, I shook my head.
I could feel myself getting lightheaded and my vision blurred. The room began to spin. My pulse was pounding heavily in my skull. War Advisor Jennings and the councilman soon vanished from my view. I let go of the world around me and was taken by the darkness.
I woke up being carried in someone’s arms. I opened my eyes slowly. I was being carried through the dining hall and once again, everyone was staring. Water dripped from my body and splashed as it hit the floor. I could no longer hold my head up. My head fell back and blackness prevailed.
Prison Colors
***For those of you who know me, please do not mention names on my page, if you know the people mentioned :-) ***
My father has been working as a Correctional Officer (prison guard), at a maximum security prison, for a very long time. Most people think of this kind of a prison guard, as a babysitter to the Nation’s biggest bad asses. And in truth, that’s exactly how it is.
However, with my dad he isn’t just a ‘guard’. He treats the prisoners with respect and in return he get’s respect.
Lately, social media has been blowing up about ‘racism’, which is where my random blog comes in.
My dad has saved several lives by doing first aid, over the years. Two main lives he saved have earned him the respect of some very hardened criminals, who normally wouldn’t say two words to my dad unless they were racist comments. (my dad is black…African American…dark skinned…however, you want to identify him as) Those men he saved were members of White Supremacist groups. By the sounds of it, these men were both in the higher rankings of the groups.
Because of my dad’s quick actions and lack of judgment, these men lived and made it known that my dad is off limits. I have seen this on prison movies and prison shows. Respect can be earned from within the group to an outsider, who would normally be a target. Once respect is gained, the one who has gained the respect can walk safely amongst this group, is acknowledged by the group, and paid respect to. It has also been know that when riots break out, these groups will protect the one who has earned their respect.
It amazes me how groups with so much ‘hate’ can accept a person of their opposing side.
Remember the Ferguson mess that was all over the news? Gang rivals, the Bloods and Crips, came together to protect their city. For that moment in time, they put aside their differences and respected each other long enough to unite and go up against looters and violent riots.
I could go on and on with examples of how opposites have come together to help each other, but I won’t. I will simply point out that ‘respect’ will be the common factor in all of these examples. Respect is the missing link in this world we live in. Respect can move mountains. Respect is the key.
S.E.Isaac
February 10, 2016
No Tub Time For Me
Not even 5 minutes into my bath, my son with autism arrives to the bathroom looking like this.
January 26, 2016
Baby Prison
They say that being locked up is a horrible experience. I will not doubt anyone who says that; however, when your house is taken over by baby prisoners that is a horrible experience. (LOL….no seriously, it sucks)
I call them ‘baby prisoners’, but they really are tiny midgets, who have sprung mutiny upon me. I was in control…okay…I was never in control. I did have it in my mind that I was in control though. Since the three baby prisoners have arrived, they have defied all rules set forth. They demand so much…. change their butts, feed them, watch Nick Jr., bathe them, feed them, change their butts again, so on and so forth. Very very demanding.
Naptime…what is this word? I hear others speak of ‘naptime’. It truly sounds like heaven. Could there be such a thing where the house is silent during the day? I would dream of such a thing; however, I am not even sure if my bed is still in my room. Hmmm….I should go check.
To all those out there who are receiving this transmission…I no longer request a padded cell and crayons. I would just like a straight jacket and silence.
January 25, 2016
Transmission from Baby Prison…
It is not that I am ignoring the cyber world. It is not that I do not wish to surround myself with Facebook and join in on the chitchat. I am currently being held captive at Baby Prison. I have broken in to the room formally known as ‘my bedroom’, dusted off the keyboard and began typing this frantically. I know it is only a matter of time before I am discovered. If you are reading this transmission, please, send back up to extract me and move me in to my new home at the looney bin. They will be expecting me, so no need to call in advance. They will direct you to the room with padded walls and crayons.
Happy Reading.
S.E.Isaac
January 3, 2016
Circus
I wish I could say that I am the ringleader, but sadly I am not. I often compare my new life to being in ‘baby prison’. There are food fights, riots, spitting, hitting, kicking, screaming, and solitary confinement often. I find myself pulling long shifts that involve ending my day sleeping heavily…for 5 hours before my shift begins again…
I know that me taking my brothers kids in was a necessity. They deserve a chance at life and their situation with their mother was not the one for them to be around. I wish her a speedy recovery to sobriety, responsibility, and adulthood.
It will be a struggle for the time being with me dealing with 5 children, 2 whom are autistic, one who has some form of ADHD, one who is 1, and the other one who is a sassy pants. Plus I am in college and will be taking two classes this semester online. I took two thinking I would be kid free during the day…now I have three little ones who need my undivided attention 24-7.
I am thankful for my mother & my dear friend Tina (and her amazing family) who have helped me get what was/is needed for the kids. I am truly thankful.
Here’s to a new year with new beginnings for all….
Goodnight
December 27, 2015
The struggle…
Creator of this is unknown, but they are hilarious & know the struggle
