| User Name: | SFP |
| Name/Nick: | sara |
| Last Visited On: | Jan. 10th, 2023, 02:28:01, PST |
| Registered On: | February 02, 2006 |
| Email: | |
| Homepage: | n/a |
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| Yahoo Handle: | n/a |
| AIM Handle: | n/a |
| Biography: | I was not going to post anymore of my fan fictions until they were finished. Simply because I have a terrible time over coming writers block, and did not want to disappoint anyone in not updating regularly. However, I have changed my mind. Again. Maybe with a little encouragement, I will become motivated to finish at least one of them.
Besides, it all in fun. Right?
It really is funny. I do not have any problems thinking up stuff to write about. Nevertheless, I do have a problem with putting my thoughts onto paper in a fashion that pleases me. Sometimes being picky sucks.
Anyway, hope you all enjoy. If my writing can bring entertainment to at least one person, I have done a job well done.
~SFP~
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A little info about me.
Pen name: SFP or SFP83 depending on where you go
Real name: Sara
Age: 25 (yes, I am young for a mother who has an eight year old. I was seventeen when I had him. ^_^ )
Height: somewhere between 4’9 and 4’10 (my husband is over a foot taller then me, my eight year old is less then a foot shorter then me & my two year old comes up to my waist. . . . ^_^; )
Hair color: currently blue-black.
Weight: Do not ask and I will not tell . . . Ask and well . . . I still will not tell. (Just don’t say you’re fat if you’re smaller then me! I will take offence, because then that would be like you calling me fat, and I am not fat . . . I just have curves and squishy muscles. ^_~ )
Favorite color: green.
Favorite absence of color: black.
Favorite pastimes: playing with my children. Playing with my husband. ^_~ Listening to music. Reading. Writing. Just about anything to do with art.
Favorite authors (not fan fiction authors): Chiristine Feehan, Iris Johansen, Julie Garwood, Kinley Macgregor / Sherrilyn Kenyon and Lisa Jakson.
Favorite anime: Inuyasha and YuYu Hakusho.
Favorite music: AC/DC, Def Leppard, Depeche Mode, Korn, Led Zeppelin, Linkin Park, Mudvayne and lots more. I listen to a little of anything and everything. My absolute favorite song of all time though is: nemesis by Shriekback.
Favorite quotes: “you have the right to remain silent, anything you say, can and will be misquoted and then used against you.” - T-shirt I own.
“if you have something to say, raise your hand! . . . And then place it over your mouth.” T-shirt I own.
“I’m busy now can I ignore you some other time???” - T-shirt I own.
“People like you are the reason people like me need medication.” - T-shirt I own.
“big dog mom, she who must be obeyed” - huge coffee cup I own.
A/N: I love all the reviews keep them coming, they inspire me. However, I do need to address something a couple of the reviewers have pointed out. Yes, some of my chapters are short, sometimes extremely short, but I do have a few good reasons. I am the mother of two children, which in it self can be very time consuming. Not only that, but both of my children have health problems or special needs.
My son was born premature and with his small intestine on the outside of his body (lots of hospital time!), now that was fixed when he was born (almost eight years ago, though it does not seem like it). However, it turned out that the surgeon that did the repair did not see a narrowing that was in the intestine and should have been taken out.
It is a miracle that my son lived for seven years with something that by all rights should have killed him. (I kept telling the doctors there was something wrong. A child should not stay the same weight for two years strait!!) In March of this year, my son had to have the narrowed piece of his intestine removed in an emergency surgery. (I was tiered of listening to the doctors in my hometown tell me my son was constipated and that was why his stomach kept hurting and why he was throwing up almost constantly for a month and demanded that they find the problem and fix it!!! They shipped my son and me to a bigger hospital, in a completely different state then the one I live in, where he had the surgery the next morning. The same state my son was born in by the way.)
The normal size of the human intestine is a little bigger then the ring finger on a human hand. My son’s whole intestine from the narrowing up was anywhere from the size of a large cucumber to the size of a soft ball. And yes his stomach was very distended, had been his whole life, something else they told me was normal because of the way he was born. (the surgeon that did my sons surgery this time said that I was lucky my son was alive. and that the only reason he was alive was because of mine and my wonderful husbands parenting (the way we feed my son threw his whole life and the fact that I demanded something be done when there was obviously something wrong but the doctors kept telling me there wasn’t). My son still has some small problems with his stomach every once in a while (it takes a while for the intestines to go back to normal size and start working properly.) and I do worry a lot (cant count how many times I’ve rushed him to the hospital for X-rays, only to have it turn out to be gas!) but I’d rather worry too much then not enough you know?
I also have a little girl, who is two years old and mostly deaf. We are learning sign language together. Her teachers are so nice!!! (Very fun language to learn by the way. especially with children!! My daughter and son both love it!!) Anyway to rap this up because it has to be the longest authors note in history. I’m not mad at anyone for wanting longer chapters. (Who doesn’t want long chapters?! Yay for long chapters!!!) But they probably will not be coming from me very often. My husband and children will always receive my time first. I am sorry if that is not understandable, but it is also non-negotiable. I hope you all will continue to read (and review!!) my stories. I enjoy you all very much.
Sincerely
~SFP~
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I want child abuse to stop, and if you do, too, copy and paste this onto your profile.
My name is sarah I am but three, My eyes are swollen I cannot see, I must be stupid I must be bad, What else could have made My daddy so mad?
I wish I were better I wish I weren't ugly, Then maybe my mommy Would still want to hug me.
I can't speak at all I can't do a wrong Or else I'm locked up All the day long When I awake I'm all alone The house is dark My folks aren't home.
When my mommy does come I'll try and be nice, So maybe I'll get just One whipping tonight
Don't make a sound! I just heard a car My daddy is back From Charlie's Bar.
I hear him curse My name he calls I press myself Against the wall.
I try and hide From his evil eyes I'm so afraid now I'm starting to cry.
He finds me weeping He shouts ugly words, He says its my fault That he suffers at work.
He slaps me and hits me And yells at me more, I finally get free And I run for the door.
He's already locked it And I started to bawl, He takes me and throws me Against the hard wall.
I fall to the floor With my bones nearly broken, And my daddy continues With more bad words spoken.
"I'm sorry!", I scream But its now much too late His face has been twisted Into unimaginable hate.
The hurt and the pain Again and again Oh please God, have mercy! Oh please let it end!
And he finally stops And heads for the door, While I lay there motionless Sprawled on the floor.
My name is Sarah
And I am but three,
Tonight my daddy,
Murdered me.
child abuse, MAKE IT STOP!
~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~
I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.
I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.
I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.
I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.
I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.
I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.
I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I did not have to always deal with society hating me.
I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
I am the person who is afraid of telling his loving Christian parents he loves another male.
Re-post this if you believe homophobia is wrong. Please do your part to end it
~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~oo~
If you can read this message, you are blessed because over two billion people in the world cannot read at all:
I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty
uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal
pweor of the hmuan mnid. Aoccdrnig to a
rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't
mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the
olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer
be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl
mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm.
Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed
ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.
Amzanig huh? Yaeh and I awlyas toghuht slpeling
was ipmorantt! tahts so cool!
If you could read that put it in your profile! |
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