Posts Tagged With: fairy tales

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

Whos Afraid

Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? Me.

I had a dream a few nights ago about Red knowing the wolf for he was, yet she still feigned ignorance.  He called her on it, yet she still denied the truth of his character, his intent, his danger up until the moment he attacked.  In my dream version, the Wolf devours Red. I understand the fairy tale has a happy ending with the Huntsman showing up and destroying the wolf and saving Red, but we all know that’s not how it plays out in reality.  There’s never a Huntsman to save us from our own ignorance.

I don’t blame, Red. I fear of being like her. I fear being just as naïve, just as stupid, just as blind, or be just as deceived. Wolves are cunning and they seem to be getting better and better at stalking their prey.

I hate wolves.  Not the four-legged beautiful amazing creatures that live in the wild, but the predators who live next door – I’m talking about the deceivers, agents of deception, liars, cheaters, users, and vampires.  I’m talking about the cold-hearted, callus, selfish predators who destroy the souls of other human beings with their games.  The world is full of male and she-wolves, but God I pray not to be a Red, yet fear there’s more of her in me than I want to admit.

I don’t have a problem seeing wolves. I see them. I smell them. I recognize when they’re tracking, hunting, and stalking me.  I get their deceptive messages, I smell their scent of betrayal, yet I still walk through the dangerous forest alone, I still tell strangers my destination, I still trollop through the tulips with my basket of bread, with not much regard for my safety.  Being safe is being guarded, being suspect, being armored, and being cold and hard as steel.  I’ve been there. I’ve done that – and it didn’t protect me. A wolf disguised himself as another warrior and got me to lay my armor down before he decided to chew me up and leave me for dead.  So, even protected I was not safe.  Being aware, being awake, seeing the truth, and learning how to walk away, to change direction, to evade and avoid …is all I can really hope to do.  My weapons is now truth – by living in the light, not lurking in the shadows.  Wolves don’t like the light and they can’t play hide and seek or stalk prey sufficiently in the open.  So, I don’t hide. If a wolf comes at me, he will have to come at me in the light – and he will be met with a survivor who knows how to fight back, not a victim.

I hate the wolves of this world – both men and women.  Liars, deceivers, con-artists, players, users and manipulators destroy the souls of men and women more than anything else in this world.

“Grandma, what big eyes you have – do you see me, because I see you.”

“Grandma, what big ears you have – can you hear me? You will hear me roar.”

“Grandma, what big teeth you have – mine are sharper. You will feel my bite!”

Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? I am – not that it could or would hurt me – I only fear being naïve to not recognize him before it’s too late.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: author T.L. Gray, Blog Post, Dream, Dreams, Fairy Tale, friends, Hope, Hurt, Independence, Inspirational, Instructional, Life, love, memes, Muses, T.L. Gray, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Keep Moving

Keep Moving

While my imagination loves fairy tales, magic, and the miraculous, my mind understands reality, and the reality is that if I want something or I want something to happen in my life I have to do it, to make it happen, make the choices needed, and then act on them.  Money doesn’t just magically appear in my bank account – never, not once did I find any extra currency in there – though I swear often that there’s an invisible troll taking a toll every time I use it.  Fat doesn’t magically dissolve in my body, though I sometimes think it magically appears. We know that isn’t the truth either.  Relationship’s don’t just begin or end without effort and/or neglect.  That reminds me of a meme I saw one time about cheating where a guy trips and falls on top of a woman exclaiming, “It was an accident!”  No, the accident happened with the momentum of texting, talking, smiling, and flirting.  That’s when the cheating first began.  By the time he ‘tripped’, he was already deep into the betrayal. There’s no accident about it.

What I’m trying to convey here is that I have to make a plan and set goals, make preparations for those plans and goals, make the choices that will help me achieve those plans and goals, and then have the strength and discipline to fulfill them regardless of how I feel or of convenience.  Nothing just magically happens.  Check marks don’t just appear.  Yes, sometimes the universe will bring me a surprise, but for the most part there are laws that govern this world much the way our natural laws govern our science and nature.  Facts are facts. Those laws are that we reap what we’ve sown.  The key is …we have to sow. We have to plant. We have to water. We have to make sure we get the right amount of sunlight.  We have to protect our gardens.  We have to pull up our own weeds.  We have to make sure we put the right kind of shit in the ground. We can’t plant one thing, yet expect it to grow something else, though we do. Man, I can’t tell you how many times I see this on a daily basis – this belief in reverse magic, in magical harvests, in expecting and wanting what we didn’t plant, earn or deserve.  It’s crazy.  Our society is so franchised, so drive-through, so … I want it my way, and I want it now, but don’t ask me to plant, grow, etc. I want YOU to prepare it for me.  I just want to lay back in my perfect body, consume what I want, when I want, not face a consequence, not lift a finger, not work for it, and yet have the strength and blessings of the gods.  How arrogant we are.  Yet, we will tell ourselves that’s NOT what we expect.

Come on, be real. Isn’t it what we expect?

This world is a beautiful and ugly place at the same time.  Over the past few weeks I have seen many, many, many examples of love, compassion, charity, respect, and bravery from people – and I’ve seen selfishness, hate, fear, depravity and gluttonous greed. Life is complex and complicated in its simplicity.  But somewhere in the balance there is peace.

I have to keep moving. I have to keep working, and hoping, and praying, and expecting, and sowing, and reaping.  I have to keep making choices every day that are going to help me or hinder me, bring me life or frustration, to help me thrive or knock me off course. If I fall, I have to choose to get back up.  If I run, I have to learn to rest.  If I fear, I have to be brave.  If I’m empty, I have to fill myself. If I have the opportunity to love, I choose love. I have to keep dreaming, I have to keep planning, and I have to keep seeking my balance, my peace, and my happiness.  As much as I wish I could say a magic word and it be done, I know that’s not the reality of it – and I have to keep moving.  In this selfish world, my joy comes from choosing to love, to find purpose, to give, and to serve.  I have to choose it. I have to do it.  I decide to make my bed first thing in the morning, to love instead of run in fear, and then take the next step, and then the step after that, and so on.  I have to keep moving – THAT’s when I’m most happy.

 

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: author T.L. Gray, Blog Post, blogging, Fairy Tale, Faith, family, friends, Life, love, memes, Muses, Philosophy, relationship, Relationships, respect, Spiritual, T.L. Gray, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Kissing Frogs

Frog Prince

 

I love a good story. I always have.  I especially love a tale with a happy ending.  The more magical, the more epic, and the more fantastic – the better I love them. I’m a sucker for a hero’s tale. I have many heroes, from Wesley and his “As you wish,” to a Goonie that never says, “Die!”  The Author of Life sometimes creates great tales and woeful tragedies. I’m trying to figure out which one I’m living.

My first love was Superman.  Watching that mild-mannered, kind, gentle man rip his shirt open and become this brave savior – won my heart.  Batman was the ultimate misunderstood bad boy, and Jesus walked on water and defied death.  Within my personal tragic story, my soul cried out to be saved. But no savior swooped in and saved the day. I learned to save myself.

I am a Princess, and always have been, only I haven’t always been able to see it. What’s so funny is that I used to tell my brother’s a story about having been kidnapped and that someday my real parents, a king and queen, would one day find me, rescue me from my hell, and take me home.  The royal highnesses never came for me, but I learned to rescue myself. I learned to change my stars and create the life I wanted to live.

I’ve always believed in magic, believed in faith, believed in the supernatural – though I’ve never really seen any of those things manifest in reality.  I always made wishes when I closed my eyes. I always prayed to the God of the Universe. I always felt the presence of an angel in my darkest moments. I never got my miracles or displayed the magnificent power over science and nature. I never had a wish magically come true, but I learned to make wishes and dreams come true for myself through hard work and dedication. Perhaps that was the true miracle.

The stories of love are the best ones of all. I have a lot of love in my life. I love my children and grandbaby beyond expression. I love my god. I love my family, my friends, and my pets. I love my passions. I love humanity. I love myself most of all.  But, the one thing I haven’t been able to capture is that GREAT romantic, magnificent, fairy-tale love. That’s not true.  I had it once before, very briefly, but a Somalian bullet took that dream from me. I had my Prince, but I didn’t get my happily-ever-after. I feel like Rose on that floating door – forced to let go of my greatest love and promising to never let go of the dream we dreamt together. I never did. I lived those dreams James and I made together, because also like Rose – there was a life full of adventure waiting to be lived AFTER Jack/James.

Of course, within that life I promised to live, I’ve kissed a few frogs, but they never turned into my Prince. While each relationship I’ve had was beautiful in its own way, it was ever only PART of the dream, part of the story, and it only filled part of me. I had one of the best marriages of anyone I knew, full of love and respect – but no passion. I’ve had one of the hottest love affairs so full of passion I burned inside, but I did not have the love and respect. I’ve had romances and nightmares, but no happily-ever-after. With each one, I’ve learned more and more what I want and don’t want in my Prince, what I need and don’t need in my life, and what kind of crown I want to sit upon my own head.

I don’t need a superhero to save me. I don’t need a valiant warrior to rescue me. I don’t need a Prince to make my dreams and wishes come true. I want a partner that will love me just as I am and not want to change me. I want a friend that I can share all that I am and they not feel they need to fix me. I want a lover that wants to touch me, and kiss me, and hold me, and listen to my silly stories, and encourage me when I’m down, and push me when I want to give up, and comfort me when I’m scared, protect me when I’m in danger, and be someone I can count on, trust, and not be afraid to give my whole heart.

All the fairy tales and epic fantasies tell you about the journey that leads up to kissing frogs and finding a Prince.  What about when you find one?  What happens next? I don’t know that part of the story. I’m afraid – because I want the happy-ever-after – but I’ve never seen it. Its standing right in front of me, but my hands literally shake when I dare to even think if it’s possible – for me. I think it must be a mistake. I’m never the Princess that catches the Prince and gets to keep him. I’ve always been too much or not enough. Too soft or too hard, but never just right. There’s always been big bad wolves in sheep’s clothing coming to blow down every house I try to build.  But, could the glass slipper really fit this time? Could his kiss break the curse of death from my poisoned lips?

If I’ve learned anything from all my fantasy and fairy tales, and stories of superheroes, is that my answer isn’t going to come from someone else. My happy-ever-after is something I’m going to have to choose for myself. I’m going to have to believe in it, trust in it, and grab it with all my soul and strength.  Just as I rescued myself, and saved myself, and believed in myself, and loved myself – I will have to choose this too. I’m afraid because I’ve fallen and failed so many times before and am riddled with their scars and filled with their pain when I close my eyes.

I could fail again. But, if I do – I know how to pick myself back up.  I’ve recently kissed a frog, and he’s become a Prince. I’ve been rubbing my eyes, wondering if he’s real or just an illusion. Only time will tell and only the Author knows how the whole story truly ends. This is a new chapter. I hope it’s a good one.

 

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: author T.L. Gray, Blog Post, blogging, Dreams, Fairy Tale, Faith, family, friends, Health & Fitness, Hope, Hurt, Independence, Inspirational, Life, love, memes, Muses, Musing., Musings, Philosophy, Romantic, Spiritual, T.L. Gray, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Letting Go

Letting Go

Letting go isn’t as easy as it’s made out to be, or as easy as it sounds.  Hell, it sounds so simple… you know, just open your hand and let it go. Elsa even understood it so much she sang a song about it. Holding on is hard.  Holding on is scary.  Holding on takes so much out of you; it breaks you down and pulls at the very center of who you really are.  The way ‘letting go’ is made to sound so easy is like saying holding on is a bad thing.  But is it, really?  Isn’t holding on what makes a relationship work?  Isn’t holding on what gets you ‘through’ the tough times in life?  Hold on to the promises.  Hold on to the hope.  Hold on to faith.  Hold on to love.  Right?  How come I feel like I’m the only one that ever ‘holds on’ to anything in my life?  I’m sure that probably sounds like such a selfish and self-centered attitude, but I can’t help but feel the lump in my throat when I think about it, and feel the warm tears streak down my cheeks as I think of all those that found it so easy to let go… to let me go.

Yesterday, I was faced with the stark reminder that I’ve once again been left behind, forgotten, that life has moved on without me, that they have ‘let me go’ and are busy with their new life, without me.  Yet, feeling the pain of it made it clear that I’m still holding on.  The tears that flow this morning are tears from facing the reality that they’ve moved on. I suppose it’s time for me to do the same.  It’s time for me to let go of the fairy tale that will never happen, the knight-in-shining armor moment that’s never coming.  He’s got his Cinderella and I’m faced with the reality that I was just another faceless dancer at the ball; all dressed up, but didn’t quite possess the right shoes.  Obviously, that wasn’t my fairy tale.

So, what do I do now?  Let go?  That’s easy to say, easy to think, easy to plan, but… what everyone fails to explain is ‘HOW’.  How do I turn a part of my heart off?  How do I stop dreaming?  How do I stop hurting?  How do I start to breathe again?  I should know how to do this; I’ve done it so many times before.  I should be an expert, or know how to write a how-to book on “letting go” and “starting over”.  Yet, I know as much now as I knew every time before.  I’m lost.  I’m just lost. Nothing’s familiar in my life right now.  For a few seconds in the mornings I forget I’m in a new town and separated from everything I love.  I’m in a new job, and haven’t yet started back writing.  I have everything I own and possess stuffed away in some storage unit, waiting to be reclaimed.  That’s how my life feels: stored away just waiting to be reclaimed.

I have to let go, I have no choice.  Those decisions were made without me.  I may have been the one who moved away, but they left me long before that.  The tears this morning remind me I’m still holding on, but there’s nothing in my hands except broken pieces of myself.  Was it worth it?  Is the pain I feel now worth the joy I felt while falling in love?  Yes.  I loved falling in love.  It was scary, but exciting.  For just a little while, I was the princess at the ball in the beautiful gown, and it was me with whom he was dancing. I felt the magic. The music moved me. Everything about it was beautiful.  He was beautiful.  I don’t know how  long it’ll be before I dare dress up and attend another ball, but before I do I have to somehow “let go” of this particular fairy tale.  Elsa, help me.  My friends, please just hold me close and very tight.  I love you all very much, and it’ll be your love that helps me find my magic again.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

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I Want Butterflies

I Want Butterflies

For those who read my blog on a daily basis, I haven’t NOT been writing, I just haven’t posted some of the latest articles live because they’ve been really deep and really personal, and I’m just not ready to share those  particular stories in a public forum.  All my posts are always deep and personal, but those are just a little bit more than I’d like the world to see – for now.  As you all know, I’m very open with my thoughts – but even I had a hard time with writing those.  I still write them, I write almost every day, because it’s cathartic for me.

Today’s post won’t be much different, but I think it’ll be okay to share this one, at least I hope it will be.  I only have a small idea of what’s going to pour out – because I just let it flow when my fingers touch the keys.

As my close friends know, I’ve been trying to re-enter the dating realm.  Back in April of this year was the first time I dabbled with online dating sites.  I had a wild mix of experiences with it, but I can say I have met some really nice men, one in particular that I believe will be a life-long friend.  Some of the men… well, let’s just say, “God have mercy on them, for they know not what they do – and they’re too damned dumb to ever figure it out.”

Saying that… brings me to my post this morning.  I felt a deep cut from a few remarks I received last night from someone I deeply love and highly regard.  When I first heard their words, I simply brushed them away, but throughout the night they kept haunting me, I kept hearing them over and over.  They didn’t say anything really bad in and of themselves individually, but collectively I didn’t like the picture they made or the picture of how I’m perceived.  It actually hurts quite a lot that someone I care about so deeply thinks of me the way they do. It hurts to disappoint someone or realize they think so little of you.

I say all the time that our biggest deceiver is often ourselves.  I don’t exclude myself in that quote.  Honestly, I’m the main culprit.  I KNOW I deceive myself.  I try really hard to examine my thoughts, my motives, my actions, my words – seeking the truth – because I know that only in truth  – real changes and healing can occur.  NOTHING can come from remaining in deception.  So, I question myself this morning – am I really the way I was described last night?  I hope not.

How was I perceived?  Judgmental, a snob, and with my heads in the clouds believing in fairy tales.  Are they wrong?  I think so, but then maybe I’ve deceived myself.  I don’t know, but I do know something is wrong, something’s off… I just don’t know what it is or how to change it.  I’ve been on several dates the last few weeks and honestly, I feel nothing.  Don’t get me wrong, most of them have been nice guys, just not the right guys for me.  When I sit across from them, I often see a lifestyle that has no room for me – or that I would have to change in order to fit.  I’m never going to change for anyone, ever again.  I sacrificed me to be what someone else wanted the last time, and lost me in the process.  It took me  a very long time to find me – and I won’t lose me again.

I want butterflies. I want lightning.  I know it exists, I’ve felt twice before.  I want to wake up in the morning and be excited about a ‘good morning’ text.  I want to smile through the day from receiving random messages, knowing I brushed across his thoughts.  I want to get nervous so bad before a date I can’t eat and I’ve tried on 20 outfits to go back and settle for the first one I pulled out.  I want to talk for hours about nothing and everything.  I want to have a hard time keeping my hands to myself.  I want to steal kisses, hold hands, make love, cook together, chase waterfalls, encourage one another, push each other to eat healthier and stay fit, to share my stories, to listen to them talk about their dreams.  I want to fall asleep in a set of strong arms.

I don’t want money, jewelry, houses, success, cars, expensive things or anything at all.  All the things I want and desire are intangible, beautiful moments.  I don’t want to have sex, I want to make love.  Maybe my friend is right, maybe it’s all just a fairy tale.  Maybe I’ve lied to myself so much that I’ve convinced myself I deserve it.  When I love someone, I love them completely… faults and all.  I see them, I see their scars, I see the impurities, but I love them  – all of them.  I just want that for me.  I’ve got my own scars. I’ve got my own impurities, weaknesses, and faults.  Can no one ever love me as I am?  Will I never be good enough?

I have many offers, sometimes it’s ridiculous at how many, from men to be a sexual partner.  Many are beautiful, sexy men that I’m sure have left a long string of broken hearts in their wake.  I’m not for want, if I was a casual kind of girl, for companionship.  Literally, I receive an offer every day.  But I’m a stupid girl that wants something real.  I’m disheartened at how many people out there would rather have a meaningless hookup than love.  So when I look into the eyes sitting across from me and I see they want to play a game, but haven’t bothered to take the time to even see me, I smile until the dance is over and then go home.  Does it make me cruel and cold that I want butterflies?  Does it make me a snob when I walk away because they’re looking for something I’m not?  Does it make me judgmental when I see someone sitting across from me who’s physique and habits sound warning bells inside my mind that their lifestyle would be detrimental to the life goals of health, fitness, and adventure I’ve set for myself?

Perhaps I do think too highly of myself, and my foolishness will keep me alone.  I don’t know.  I just know that I feel broken, almost dead inside.  I hold tightly to hope – hope that I’ll find my butterflies, hope that someday someone will think I’m worth fighting for, that I’m worth loving.  Maybe someday I’ll meet someone who also believes in fairy tales and I’ll be awakened from my cursed sleep with true love’s kiss. Just maybe. Or else I’ll just die and wither in my glass coffin.

Till Next Time,

Fairy Tale Princess

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Inner Child

Image

I had a sweet conversation with my best friend yesterday, and she mentioned that sometimes when people go through some sort of tragedy in their life, they often stay at the emotional age when that tragedy occurred.  I’ve heard something like that before, but I always just brushed the idea to the side, not really identifying with the statement, relating emotional age with the maturity level.  So, the concept never added up for me.  I’ve since been informed that emotional age and emotional maturity are two different things.  Most often kids who’ve been abused are highly mature, highly functional, and highly intelligent, yet often emotionally naïve.  Now, THAT I understand.

In my defensive way, I made a joke out of the statement.  It’s what I do when I hear things that I don’t want to think about or want to deflect. Though I never just right out ignore anything.  When I hear something, I hear it.  I may not respond immediately, but I will respond. I like to think things through, weigh them, measure them, and work them out through my own understanding.  The joke I made was about my emotional age would then have to be about 4-years old.  My friend didn’t laugh.  Instead she says, “I can see that.”

Now, I almost got offended, because in my understanding I took it to mean she thought I was immature.  She elaborated and said to me, “You have a part of you that still believes in fairy tales, slaying dragons, knights in shining armor, superheroes, and happily-ever-afters.”  I wanted to argue with her and immediately thought what she said was idiotic and ridiculous.  I didn’t believe in fairy tales.  I know they’re not real.  I live in the real world, feel the real pain, and face real consequences.  But, I realized my friend was right.  I do still believe in those things.  I still believe in heroes.  They may not wear a cape and hide behind a pair of glasses, but they do exist.  I do still believe in valiant knights, brave men who go out to slay dragons in defense of their love, their country, or their family.  I do believe still in happily-ever-after though I don’t see examples of it every day, nor has it ever been a part of my life, but I know it’s there… I just have to find it.

I’m so thankful today that inside me there lives an inner child, a little four-year old girl, believing in the fantastical.  More than anything, I hope she continues to cling to those dreams and beliefs and never lets them go. The world needs them. I need them.  I need her.

What is your emotional age?

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

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Spinning Straw into Gold

Spinning Straw into Gold

You’d think a woman of forty-two would be too old to believe in fairy tales, have a rational and practical mind, and live a life with her feet firmly planted on the ground, but I realize this morning … I’m not, I don’t, and I won’t apologize.  It might sound crazy and even a bit absurd, but I find it a miracle I still believe in happily-ever-after, miracles, and the ability to receive the impossible. I may be disturbed, but if you know me and the nightmare that’s been the story of my life; perhaps that’s the greatest miracle of all …the simple fact I haven’t given up.

I’m shocked I’m not in some institution somewhere, addicted to some narcotic or an insatiable alcoholic, a liar, or a thief. I have every reason, but no excuses.  I’m stubborn, perhaps naive, because I keep getting up.  I’m battered and bruised, tattered and torn, damaged and discarded, but I still dare to reach for the impossible.

It reminds me of a song by Five for Fighting called Superman, “I’m not crazy …or anything.  I can’t stand to fly; I’m not that naïve …men weren’t meant to ride with clouds between their knees …I’m only a man in a funny red sheet, looking for special things inside of me …I’m only a man in a funny red sheet, I’m only a man looking for a dream. It’s not easy to be me.”

The world tells me I can’t spin straw into gold, not without making a deal with the Rumpelstiltskins of the world that will compromise my values; that I can’t slay dragons because I’m not born to the right title or privilege; that Prince Charming isn’t for girls like me, that happily-ever-after doesn’t exist.  But I choose to close my ears to the world’s pessimism-steeped in realism.

In darkness, I choose to believe in light. In pain, I choose to believe in happiness. In loneliness, I choose to believe in love.  In rejection, I choose to believe in acceptance.  In fear, I choose to believe in peace.  In failure, I choose to believe in success. In defeat, I choose to believe in miracles.  In death, I choose to believe in life.  Tell me there is no way, I’ll find a way.  Tell me there is no hope, and I will continue to hope.  Tell me I’m not able, and I won’t stop until I’ve become a master.  Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll love myself.

For a little while I listened to the world, I let my way of seeing dim, to put on glasses of reality and lick my wounds.  I’m not stupid.  I know what’s real and what’s not.  I don’t live separated from reality, but I’ve allowed reality to take away the best part of me – me ability to see things (love, hope, a better future) that are not yet – as though they were,  and then have the strength to step forward to make them happen.  I don’t want to live in a world that dictates to me how things are… or how they will be.  THAT kind of world would have killed me a long time ago.  I am where I am, because I refuse to accept those things.  YES, I’ve seen the ugliness of this world.  I know it’s face – intimately.  I’ve seen way too much of it.  Those images, those memories, and the scars are plain and evident and I don’t deny them. Every time I see a scar, a burn mark, a stretch mark, or feel the pain from a past injury, or look around at my present circumstances and know what I’ve walked away from, I’m reminded vividly of each one. I couldn’t forget them if I tried.  But I deny their power to define me.

So, today – whether you agree, disagree or think or I’ve lost my mind – I believe in happily-ever-after, in magic, in spinning straw into gold, and that I was meant to ride with clouds between my knees.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

http://www.tlgray.blogspot.com

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