In going through boxes of my own crap in the closet- I am attempting to clean- I found this bit of prose. I never dated it, so I can only guess...maybe 1995? Around there.
I have found
people are more likely to lend you their pen than
lend you their ears
So I've come to trust paper,
not people.
Paper never lets me down
It's always there
It never judges
It doesn't speak but for those who have
Eyes To See
Who are
Willing to read into things
How sad I am to realize
In my grief
I find no open heart to trust
Only pen and paper.
Saturday, November 29, 2003
Friday, November 28, 2003
the Southern Baptists
Sometimes my boyfriends Southern Baptist family members are really pretty freaky.
Thanksgiving dinner, we're sitting around enjoying the meal, everyone is relaxed and discussing a video game (the one the preacher likes to play, long story there!). Suddenly one guys pipes up, "They're putting all those Satanic symbols in the school books, you know!" And I look at him, confused. I look around the table, slowly, at everyone else. I know any discussion of religion is like playing musical chairs with an electric chair in the circle. Everyone else has these blank expressions that are of no help. I raise an eyebrow and ask the guy, "Um...how did we get on this conversation? Weren't we just talking about a video game? Did I miss something?" And everyone is silent. The same guy says, "You know, what they're teaching children these days is just destroying them. I heard of this one boy who was just fine, a good kid, then his parents drop him off at school one day and all them Satanic teachings just made him come home and commit suicide!" I stare at him slack jawed and it is beyond my control, I simply MUST ask, "Who? What kid?" And he mumbles something about it being something he heard and how terrible it was.
And I have this weird feeling, like I really thought the people around me were human but all of a sudden they're all going to unzip their human skins to reveal some strange alien species.
And he goes on about the Satanic symbols, so I ask him, "WHAT Satanic symbols?"
-I must note, that having had a brother who was gung ho about Satanism for years, I know a fair amount about this subject. Not by choice, but observance. Kind of like studying a volcano to see how it works so you know how to stay the hell away from it and not burn up.-
But this guy, I could fairly safely assume, knew jack shit about Satanism, other than it was EVIL and bad and was something to tremble in the face of. So I ask him what symbols are in childrens schoolbooks, MY childs schoolbook, and he says, "Oh you know, all them triangles and squares and things."
Uh, like geometry?
WHAT are these people talking about?
And my boyfriends dad offers up, "You know, they're trying to teach some new religion to these kids, that instead of there being one God, they're teaching kids to believe they are their OWN God." He looks disgusted.
"WHO is?" I ask.
"Those people, you know, the uh....the people who beleive that kind of stuff."
I am, by that time, trying so hard to keep a poker face and remain civil and not scream.
THOSE people. THEM. THEY are doing this.
I am not debating the presence of evil in the world. God knows I have seen it up close and personal, and had to battle it in my own house (a loooong story, another time). And having won that battle, I can tell you it is not difficult, it just takes willpower and determination. An unshakable faith.
What I AM debating is these people sitting around, yakking it up about an Evil that has no name, no face, nothing. Just "them". It strikes me as being... gosh, I don't know... like little kids. Like superstitious little kids, who are afraid to step on cracks for fear they might actually break their mothers back. AAAAHHH! THE BOOGEYMAN WILL GET YOU!!!!
(eyes rolling)
There is some real evil in the world, people. Don't waste your time and energy being afraid of faceless fears. If you think something is evil and needs to be battled, you damn well better learn it's name. How else are you going to fight it?
Thanksgiving dinner, we're sitting around enjoying the meal, everyone is relaxed and discussing a video game (the one the preacher likes to play, long story there!). Suddenly one guys pipes up, "They're putting all those Satanic symbols in the school books, you know!" And I look at him, confused. I look around the table, slowly, at everyone else. I know any discussion of religion is like playing musical chairs with an electric chair in the circle. Everyone else has these blank expressions that are of no help. I raise an eyebrow and ask the guy, "Um...how did we get on this conversation? Weren't we just talking about a video game? Did I miss something?" And everyone is silent. The same guy says, "You know, what they're teaching children these days is just destroying them. I heard of this one boy who was just fine, a good kid, then his parents drop him off at school one day and all them Satanic teachings just made him come home and commit suicide!" I stare at him slack jawed and it is beyond my control, I simply MUST ask, "Who? What kid?" And he mumbles something about it being something he heard and how terrible it was.
And I have this weird feeling, like I really thought the people around me were human but all of a sudden they're all going to unzip their human skins to reveal some strange alien species.
And he goes on about the Satanic symbols, so I ask him, "WHAT Satanic symbols?"
-I must note, that having had a brother who was gung ho about Satanism for years, I know a fair amount about this subject. Not by choice, but observance. Kind of like studying a volcano to see how it works so you know how to stay the hell away from it and not burn up.-
But this guy, I could fairly safely assume, knew jack shit about Satanism, other than it was EVIL and bad and was something to tremble in the face of. So I ask him what symbols are in childrens schoolbooks, MY childs schoolbook, and he says, "Oh you know, all them triangles and squares and things."
Uh, like geometry?
WHAT are these people talking about?
And my boyfriends dad offers up, "You know, they're trying to teach some new religion to these kids, that instead of there being one God, they're teaching kids to believe they are their OWN God." He looks disgusted.
"WHO is?" I ask.
"Those people, you know, the uh....the people who beleive that kind of stuff."
I am, by that time, trying so hard to keep a poker face and remain civil and not scream.
THOSE people. THEM. THEY are doing this.
I am not debating the presence of evil in the world. God knows I have seen it up close and personal, and had to battle it in my own house (a loooong story, another time). And having won that battle, I can tell you it is not difficult, it just takes willpower and determination. An unshakable faith.
What I AM debating is these people sitting around, yakking it up about an Evil that has no name, no face, nothing. Just "them". It strikes me as being... gosh, I don't know... like little kids. Like superstitious little kids, who are afraid to step on cracks for fear they might actually break their mothers back. AAAAHHH! THE BOOGEYMAN WILL GET YOU!!!!
(eyes rolling)
There is some real evil in the world, people. Don't waste your time and energy being afraid of faceless fears. If you think something is evil and needs to be battled, you damn well better learn it's name. How else are you going to fight it?
Today, I am in the holiday spirit.
Maybe it's the shopping vibe coming from all those shoppers, maybe it's the possibility of snow tonight, maybe it's the fact that I have four whole days off in a row (almost unheard of) and I can finally get a chance to freakin breathe.
Don't know. But it feels good.
Maybe it's the shopping vibe coming from all those shoppers, maybe it's the possibility of snow tonight, maybe it's the fact that I have four whole days off in a row (almost unheard of) and I can finally get a chance to freakin breathe.
Don't know. But it feels good.
Thursday, November 27, 2003
I woke up this morning to an empathy cacophony. I laid there for quite a while, pondering the feeling and trying to put an emotion into image form.
I came up with this: sitting in a boat, on a lake, and the water is restless, moving. The day is nice enough, the water isn't quite choppy, but close. As the boat rocks and moves in the water, the water itself speaks.
Each molecule of water has its own voice, and it's own emotions, complex as a strand of DNA in each microbe in each droplet of water. Some voices and emotions were going in the same direction, they had similarities, they were like a current, all flowing in the same general direction. Others were splashing about, seperate and unique in their ability to stand out, and although essentially the same as the rest, they were still fragmented from the whole. Like millions upon millions of seperate voices, all swirling together and then standing apart, voices trailing in and out, but always going.
What was it?
Thanksgiving.
All holidays are like this, and other occasions too (Sept 11th was...almost indescribable on that level). Thanksgiving, with millions of women plannning out their dinners, the current is technical; the people going to be with loved ones, the current is joyful; the people going to see family they don't like, the current is anxiety; the people who don't have family or friends to be with, the current is fragmented....although those are the ones that were splashing, they weren't a current at all. They were alone.
There are times when being empathic is a burden, other times it is a blessing. In a mob, in a jail, at a funeral, those times are tough. But wonderful are the moments in a stadium (when your team is winning, or your favorite band comes onstage), at a birth, at a wedding....
So laying here this morning I listened to the silent noise in my head and I decided to pursue this strange gift. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but sometime. I've always wondered what I could do with some formal training. But I've also always feared it, too. Oddly, when I made up my mind to find out, I was filled with a sense of serenity.
Maybe there's a reason for it. Other than to make you wonder about my sanity.
I came up with this: sitting in a boat, on a lake, and the water is restless, moving. The day is nice enough, the water isn't quite choppy, but close. As the boat rocks and moves in the water, the water itself speaks.
Each molecule of water has its own voice, and it's own emotions, complex as a strand of DNA in each microbe in each droplet of water. Some voices and emotions were going in the same direction, they had similarities, they were like a current, all flowing in the same general direction. Others were splashing about, seperate and unique in their ability to stand out, and although essentially the same as the rest, they were still fragmented from the whole. Like millions upon millions of seperate voices, all swirling together and then standing apart, voices trailing in and out, but always going.
What was it?
Thanksgiving.
All holidays are like this, and other occasions too (Sept 11th was...almost indescribable on that level). Thanksgiving, with millions of women plannning out their dinners, the current is technical; the people going to be with loved ones, the current is joyful; the people going to see family they don't like, the current is anxiety; the people who don't have family or friends to be with, the current is fragmented....although those are the ones that were splashing, they weren't a current at all. They were alone.
There are times when being empathic is a burden, other times it is a blessing. In a mob, in a jail, at a funeral, those times are tough. But wonderful are the moments in a stadium (when your team is winning, or your favorite band comes onstage), at a birth, at a wedding....
So laying here this morning I listened to the silent noise in my head and I decided to pursue this strange gift. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but sometime. I've always wondered what I could do with some formal training. But I've also always feared it, too. Oddly, when I made up my mind to find out, I was filled with a sense of serenity.
Maybe there's a reason for it. Other than to make you wonder about my sanity.
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
would you like to super size that?
Hmmmm.
I was thinking about how fast food restaurants have slowly built up the size of their portions over the years. Well, all of America has, it seems. But I digress. Apparently, years ago, the common size of an adult meal from McDonalds was about the same size as a Happy Meal is today. Over the years the meals have gotten larger, the content of them has gotten fatter, yet the nutritional value has not raised a bit.
We, as a nation, cannot resist a good deal, it seems. Not even if it's bad for us. Super size it for another 39 cents? Ok. Even though it's another bazillion calories and nurtitionally a pile of crap.
SO of course I get this ridiculous image in my head (my good old brain, always got to take it to the extreme for humors sake) of a fast food restaurant serving slop, basically. Gruel, maybe? A giant bucket of grits? With butter! Salt! And a giant container of sugar laden calorie ridden beverage to wash that slop down with! And here's people pulling up to the drive through, Would you like to stupid size that? Oh YES PLEASE! And they pull up to the window and get their individual vats of slop, Hey! Don't forget your spork! It's kinda chunky at the bottom, folks!
And don't forget the catchy commercials, You deserve some slop today! da da da da da! I'm lovin it! With good looking happy people sitting around at work and soccer practice and in the park with their insanely large buckets sporking out giant mouthful of runny chunky slop.
But its on the value meal! Whooohoo!
I was thinking about how fast food restaurants have slowly built up the size of their portions over the years. Well, all of America has, it seems. But I digress. Apparently, years ago, the common size of an adult meal from McDonalds was about the same size as a Happy Meal is today. Over the years the meals have gotten larger, the content of them has gotten fatter, yet the nutritional value has not raised a bit.
We, as a nation, cannot resist a good deal, it seems. Not even if it's bad for us. Super size it for another 39 cents? Ok. Even though it's another bazillion calories and nurtitionally a pile of crap.
SO of course I get this ridiculous image in my head (my good old brain, always got to take it to the extreme for humors sake) of a fast food restaurant serving slop, basically. Gruel, maybe? A giant bucket of grits? With butter! Salt! And a giant container of sugar laden calorie ridden beverage to wash that slop down with! And here's people pulling up to the drive through, Would you like to stupid size that? Oh YES PLEASE! And they pull up to the window and get their individual vats of slop, Hey! Don't forget your spork! It's kinda chunky at the bottom, folks!
And don't forget the catchy commercials, You deserve some slop today! da da da da da! I'm lovin it! With good looking happy people sitting around at work and soccer practice and in the park with their insanely large buckets sporking out giant mouthful of runny chunky slop.
But its on the value meal! Whooohoo!
another holiday moment
I walked into a law office today and it was like Christmas freakin central in there. Hey, I like Christmas. I like Christmas decorations. I liked THEIR Christmas decorations. (I'm a big fan of the old school decor.) But after coming up to the third floor and seeing the THIRD Christmas tree, and the wreaths everywhere visible, and swags hanging from anything, I was sick of it. Granted, it's a matter of being EARLY that was driving me crazy. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Already Christmas feels like its being shoved down my throat. And as I came out of that third floor evevator, to stare at the third ceiling tall tree, I suddenly thought, "I think I'll become a Wiccan."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's a big difference between the people who can't get enough of Christmas and those who can. It's called SHOPPING. For those of us who haven't shopped (and those who can't afford to shop) Christmas comes too quickly. I've been asking all those people who just barf holiday joy, and they have one thing in common- they're done shopping. They finish in October. Then they have nothing left to do but put up their decorations early and sit around in their pukey Christmas attire. Oh, you know what I'm talking about. The sweaters embroidered with little Christmas presents, or Santa, or reindeer, or Christmas trees- whatever. My mom tried to give me a turtleneck one year that was covered -and I mean there was literally not one inch left of blank space on the thing- with Christmas lights. I tried to hide my revulsion but I'm not sure I did a good job. Considering she's giving it to me on Christmas, when exactly am I going to wear it? I suppose if I was feeling particularly self loathing I could wear it out in public in April, just to be ridiculed. But it was so busy, it hurt to LOOK at it.
Yep, my mom is one of those people who are done shopping.
And yet, I envy those people.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's a big difference between the people who can't get enough of Christmas and those who can. It's called SHOPPING. For those of us who haven't shopped (and those who can't afford to shop) Christmas comes too quickly. I've been asking all those people who just barf holiday joy, and they have one thing in common- they're done shopping. They finish in October. Then they have nothing left to do but put up their decorations early and sit around in their pukey Christmas attire. Oh, you know what I'm talking about. The sweaters embroidered with little Christmas presents, or Santa, or reindeer, or Christmas trees- whatever. My mom tried to give me a turtleneck one year that was covered -and I mean there was literally not one inch left of blank space on the thing- with Christmas lights. I tried to hide my revulsion but I'm not sure I did a good job. Considering she's giving it to me on Christmas, when exactly am I going to wear it? I suppose if I was feeling particularly self loathing I could wear it out in public in April, just to be ridiculed. But it was so busy, it hurt to LOOK at it.
Yep, my mom is one of those people who are done shopping.
And yet, I envy those people.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
The Biggest Shopping Day Of The Year looms upon us.
It's that time of year when I ponder the sanity of my fellow Americans. People rush to the malls, to the stores, they have a plan (and even back up plans) staked out, their Shopping Plan Of Attack, as it were. They get up at 4 am, some camp out at the stores, to arrive before dawn and rush the doors when they open at some ungodly hour, while the rest of us are sleeping away with turkey and pie still gurgling in our guts.
AND THEY SHOP.
They shop with reckless wild abandon, they shop with carefully scripted plans, they shop they shop they shop, they cause major freakin traffic jams, then they take this pile of loot and wrap it one million miles of fancy paper and give the stuff away to celebrate the birth of Christ.
Don't get me wrong. I like Christmas just fine.
It's just BIZARRE.
I was thinking about a few years back when all those parents went insane trying to get Tickle Me Elmo. Or in the 80's it was the Cabbage Patch Dolls. People got hurt, people were trampled, people got into fistfights and screaming matches and tackled each other for these stupid dolls.
Um...perspective, people? You're buying these gifts to celebrate the birth of Christ, remember?
Your children will not die without this toy. And if your children go through Christmas and open all their presents and are bummed out to discover there is no Tickle Me Elmo or whatever, what you have on your hands is not an unhappy child. You have a spoiled brat.
I remember every time I got something for Christmas that I asked for- because it was UNUSUAL. I asked for the U Drive-It. I got it. It was cool. It was noisy. It was archaic compared to toys nowadays, but it was heaven for me. And I'll never forget the Christmas I walked into the living room and there was the Barbie Doll Dream House. THAT was a dream come true. I never expected I would actually get it. It was expensive, and we were poor. I never even dreamed I would get it. And then, as if that weren't enough, some of my presents were actual furniture pieces that went inside. Oh, I opened that pink wardrobe and lined up all my Barbie shoes on the little rack just so, and put her little Barbie rings into the plug holes (for you none-Barbie-fans, her fingers had little holes in them to plug a "ring" into). I was most impressed with the little flowers that fit into the little flower boxes that hung under the windows.
My point?
If I had gotten all the stupid things I asked for all the time, I would have EXPECTED that Dream House. But I didn't, and it was so special and magical to see it sitting next to the tree.
My son has asked for an X Box for the last two years. I assure you, he won't be getting it.
But what he does get will be thrilling, and he won't be disappointed. He won't even notice that the X Box isn't there.
It's that time of year when I ponder the sanity of my fellow Americans. People rush to the malls, to the stores, they have a plan (and even back up plans) staked out, their Shopping Plan Of Attack, as it were. They get up at 4 am, some camp out at the stores, to arrive before dawn and rush the doors when they open at some ungodly hour, while the rest of us are sleeping away with turkey and pie still gurgling in our guts.
AND THEY SHOP.
They shop with reckless wild abandon, they shop with carefully scripted plans, they shop they shop they shop, they cause major freakin traffic jams, then they take this pile of loot and wrap it one million miles of fancy paper and give the stuff away to celebrate the birth of Christ.
Don't get me wrong. I like Christmas just fine.
It's just BIZARRE.
I was thinking about a few years back when all those parents went insane trying to get Tickle Me Elmo. Or in the 80's it was the Cabbage Patch Dolls. People got hurt, people were trampled, people got into fistfights and screaming matches and tackled each other for these stupid dolls.
Um...perspective, people? You're buying these gifts to celebrate the birth of Christ, remember?
Your children will not die without this toy. And if your children go through Christmas and open all their presents and are bummed out to discover there is no Tickle Me Elmo or whatever, what you have on your hands is not an unhappy child. You have a spoiled brat.
I remember every time I got something for Christmas that I asked for- because it was UNUSUAL. I asked for the U Drive-It. I got it. It was cool. It was noisy. It was archaic compared to toys nowadays, but it was heaven for me. And I'll never forget the Christmas I walked into the living room and there was the Barbie Doll Dream House. THAT was a dream come true. I never expected I would actually get it. It was expensive, and we were poor. I never even dreamed I would get it. And then, as if that weren't enough, some of my presents were actual furniture pieces that went inside. Oh, I opened that pink wardrobe and lined up all my Barbie shoes on the little rack just so, and put her little Barbie rings into the plug holes (for you none-Barbie-fans, her fingers had little holes in them to plug a "ring" into). I was most impressed with the little flowers that fit into the little flower boxes that hung under the windows.
My point?
If I had gotten all the stupid things I asked for all the time, I would have EXPECTED that Dream House. But I didn't, and it was so special and magical to see it sitting next to the tree.
My son has asked for an X Box for the last two years. I assure you, he won't be getting it.
But what he does get will be thrilling, and he won't be disappointed. He won't even notice that the X Box isn't there.
Sunday, November 23, 2003
Well, things have gone from bad to worse, to way, way worse with The Boyfriend. And then on the brink of splitting up, things have made a dramatic turn around.
I decided to not fight it or him anymore. I told him I was officially giving up. I've always felt that things can be worked through my communication, by talking. Ok, I told him, I've talked. And I've talked and talked and talked and nothing has changed at all. So I've come to the conclusion that talking will solve nothing, in which case this relationship is doomed. I told him the only way this relationship will be saved is through his own effort, and that it was now up to him. I am tired of crying, worrying, screaming and most of all, talking. I'm wasting my time and breath, and I'm over it.
He cried.
I saw this as a good sign. Apparently the loss of Us is a painful idea for him. Good, methinks. It is for me, too.
I can't sit by and watch someone destroy their life. This is what we fight about. His destructive behavior is horrifying to me. And it's many manifestations are reeking havoc in my world, and I can't stand for it. I've had the patience of a saint, in dealing with his bullshit, but I've finally reached my breaking point. Mostly because he's gotten worse. Much worse, lately. And I've explained that people act destructively when they're angry, hurt, or have lost hope. At any rate, he needs to figure out what his problem is and do something about it, or I will leave. I told him I thought medication would help.
I never believed in the stuff till I had some crazy anxiety problems a few years back. I would be stressed out, yah, no problem. Then it somehow got worse and worse until I couldn't go into a store without feeling like I was having a heart attack. Any communication with the public terrifying. My heart would pound when the phone rang. I went to the doctor and told her I had an ulcer and heart palapatations and hives and what the hell is wrong with me? She put me on Paxil (THANK YOU PAXIL!!!). That was a Godsend. I don't know exactly why it works, but it did give me just enough room to back up and get out of my terror and get a good grip on my life. Perspective is everything, and I finally regained it. I quit taking it and I've been fine ever since.
Kooky, huh?
Anyway, I have some hope for this relationship. I have hope that the Boyfriend will make the right decisions. But there is always that fear, too.
It doesn't help when his friend told me last night, "What the hell do you expect? He's always been a fuck up!"
Let's hope he's wrong.
Please God, let him be wrong....
I decided to not fight it or him anymore. I told him I was officially giving up. I've always felt that things can be worked through my communication, by talking. Ok, I told him, I've talked. And I've talked and talked and talked and nothing has changed at all. So I've come to the conclusion that talking will solve nothing, in which case this relationship is doomed. I told him the only way this relationship will be saved is through his own effort, and that it was now up to him. I am tired of crying, worrying, screaming and most of all, talking. I'm wasting my time and breath, and I'm over it.
He cried.
I saw this as a good sign. Apparently the loss of Us is a painful idea for him. Good, methinks. It is for me, too.
I can't sit by and watch someone destroy their life. This is what we fight about. His destructive behavior is horrifying to me. And it's many manifestations are reeking havoc in my world, and I can't stand for it. I've had the patience of a saint, in dealing with his bullshit, but I've finally reached my breaking point. Mostly because he's gotten worse. Much worse, lately. And I've explained that people act destructively when they're angry, hurt, or have lost hope. At any rate, he needs to figure out what his problem is and do something about it, or I will leave. I told him I thought medication would help.
I never believed in the stuff till I had some crazy anxiety problems a few years back. I would be stressed out, yah, no problem. Then it somehow got worse and worse until I couldn't go into a store without feeling like I was having a heart attack. Any communication with the public terrifying. My heart would pound when the phone rang. I went to the doctor and told her I had an ulcer and heart palapatations and hives and what the hell is wrong with me? She put me on Paxil (THANK YOU PAXIL!!!). That was a Godsend. I don't know exactly why it works, but it did give me just enough room to back up and get out of my terror and get a good grip on my life. Perspective is everything, and I finally regained it. I quit taking it and I've been fine ever since.
Kooky, huh?
Anyway, I have some hope for this relationship. I have hope that the Boyfriend will make the right decisions. But there is always that fear, too.
It doesn't help when his friend told me last night, "What the hell do you expect? He's always been a fuck up!"
Let's hope he's wrong.
Please God, let him be wrong....
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
It seems every time I have a day or night where I think romantic things about my boyfriend, he goes out. It's beginning to feel like every time. I wonder. And I think that's why it upsets me; it's always at a time I don't expect to be let down. Maybe I should expect it all the time. Or maybe he could learn to quit being such an inconsiderate asswipe and call me.
Every time he does this it just makes me feel sick. I try calling his work and as it rings, I can feel my stomach tie up in knots.
But I wonder, is it him? Or the flashbacks of my sons dad? Or, God forbid, the similarities? Well that just makes me want to toss my cookies.
~thinking~
No, it's him. I honestly think he's done this to me so many times I'm just traumatized now. Plain and not so simple.
But I have to wonder, if I trust him, why do I feel so bad?
~thinking~
Because I ask him to call and he doesn't? Because I ask him to be respectful of my feelings and he so totally is NOT? Because when I talk to him about it (read:chew him new asshole) he seems to totally clueless, almost every time? Like, "What? You were worried? Well thats silly. I just don't understand." No matter how many times I explain it to him.
It's like what I say has no meaning.
I really believe he loves me.
I just wonder if his idea of love is enough.
And unfortunately, he gives me WAY too much time to think about these things.
Every time he does this it just makes me feel sick. I try calling his work and as it rings, I can feel my stomach tie up in knots.
But I wonder, is it him? Or the flashbacks of my sons dad? Or, God forbid, the similarities? Well that just makes me want to toss my cookies.
~thinking~
No, it's him. I honestly think he's done this to me so many times I'm just traumatized now. Plain and not so simple.
But I have to wonder, if I trust him, why do I feel so bad?
~thinking~
Because I ask him to call and he doesn't? Because I ask him to be respectful of my feelings and he so totally is NOT? Because when I talk to him about it (read:chew him new asshole) he seems to totally clueless, almost every time? Like, "What? You were worried? Well thats silly. I just don't understand." No matter how many times I explain it to him.
It's like what I say has no meaning.
I really believe he loves me.
I just wonder if his idea of love is enough.
And unfortunately, he gives me WAY too much time to think about these things.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
Today I was following a little red car up Lakeshore Drive. It kept stopping, slowing down, crawling forward. Being in no particular hurry and just happy to be done with work for the day, I didn't care. Then the car came around a corner and I see a little old man, he had to be nearing 90, standing on the corner, looking down the road to us. The little red car turned the corner where he was and he smiled so happily, and started clapping his hands together like a little kid. He all but jumped up and down (which may be beyond him at his advanced age!).
I totally choked me up. It was the most beautiful expression of joy I've seen in a while.
Thanks, little old clapping guy and the red car.
You made my day.
I totally choked me up. It was the most beautiful expression of joy I've seen in a while.
Thanks, little old clapping guy and the red car.
You made my day.
Monday, November 17, 2003
WAY TMI
Ok, I realize this may be way too much information, but I'm going to share anyway, because I am fascinated.
Since falling down the stairs, I've had this weird little ailment. It feels a lot like a bladder infection but it isn't. And oddly enough, it never hurts if I walk around or stand up or lay down- only if I SIT. Bizarre, eh? So I mention this to my chiropractor and ask if if it's possible to somehow damage your bladder? And I tell him when it hurts and he laughs. He says, "What you have is a pinched nerve." And ~CRACK~ it's all better! Well, for a few days. These things take time.
It's just so freakin odd- I was in serious burning pain a little while ago, but finally gave up eating dinner and just stood up again. Bingo- pain gone.
And while I am really tired of standing here, trying to type while leaning over, I wanted to share this odd discovery. Because if I had gone to a regular doctor, they would have given me piles of drugs and done a bazillion tests and not a damn thing would have helped.
Do not get my confused here, people. If you have a serious UTI, go to a doctor. Those can become life threatening if it moves into your kidneys.
But what I have is not.
It just sucks.
At least until my chiropractor comes back to town (he's on vacation).
I hope he hurries. I'm getting so tired of standing.
Since falling down the stairs, I've had this weird little ailment. It feels a lot like a bladder infection but it isn't. And oddly enough, it never hurts if I walk around or stand up or lay down- only if I SIT. Bizarre, eh? So I mention this to my chiropractor and ask if if it's possible to somehow damage your bladder? And I tell him when it hurts and he laughs. He says, "What you have is a pinched nerve." And ~CRACK~ it's all better! Well, for a few days. These things take time.
It's just so freakin odd- I was in serious burning pain a little while ago, but finally gave up eating dinner and just stood up again. Bingo- pain gone.
And while I am really tired of standing here, trying to type while leaning over, I wanted to share this odd discovery. Because if I had gone to a regular doctor, they would have given me piles of drugs and done a bazillion tests and not a damn thing would have helped.
Do not get my confused here, people. If you have a serious UTI, go to a doctor. Those can become life threatening if it moves into your kidneys.
But what I have is not.
It just sucks.
At least until my chiropractor comes back to town (he's on vacation).
I hope he hurries. I'm getting so tired of standing.
Sunday, November 16, 2003
SO the boyfriend and I talked, and talked and talked. But always I am left with the feeling that nothing is resolved, that it's merely a matter of time before he fucks up again. I see he doesn't change, just behave for a little while. Whats the point?
While talking to a friend last night, I told him "If I were my friend, I'd tell me to break up with him!" Which, granted, is a discombobulated sentence, but you get the idea. If I were listening to a friend of mine tell me the same stuff that comes out of my mouth, I'd be on the way over to help her pack, or at least kick his ass.
Oh, he's not cheating on me, or anything like that- he's just an insensitive asshole.
Last night one of the new girls at work had a bunch of friends from out of town come into town, and they all invite him to come with them to have a drink. Ok, not a problem. He's a local, they want to hang out. So what? But he doesn't call me to tell me that, because he knows it will irk me that he's going out drinking with the new girl, who I don't know, and therefore don't trust.
So he has a few beers with them THEN calls me when he's on the way home, and he's trashed.
This is the basis of our argument. I ask him why he didn't just call me first? Because, he says, he knows I will be mad. Ok, I say, so you know it will upset me and you do it anyway. That says a lot right there. And I tell him I wouldn't really give a shit at all, except for his double standard. He can be jealous as hell, but it's ok for him to go out drinking with some girl and all her friends? Oh, please. He makes up scenarios about guys talking to me and gets paranoid about the possibility of me talking to them, but he ACTUALLY goes and hangs out with other girls. What the fuck ever, I tell him.
So, ok, he goes out, then calls me, then comes home and is an argumentative drunk asshole about it all, trying to defend his reasons for going "I didn't want to be rude, they invited me!" Yet it's totally ok if he's rude to ME, just not to them. Again, that right there says a lot.
I tell him he didn't want to call me first because he just wanted to go out and not feel bad about it while he's sitting there. But NOW he's upset because he feels bad. I tell him thats his own guilt and to shut the fuck up about it, I'm sick of hearing about it! I mean, he comes home and keeps going on and on about it, out of guilt. In the meantime, I'm just trying to watch SNL, I don't want to listen to my drunk asshole boyfriend babble on about how it was ok for him to be an asshole. JUST SHUT UP, I say. "Ok, fine!" he retorts. "From now on I just won't tell you!!!"
Yah, thats really mature. It really gives me hope for this relationship (read: dripping sarcasm).
He finally passes out and is still defensive and stupid this morning when he comes in and realizes I slept on the couch. He STILL tries to argue about how it was no big deal. YES, I agree, I tell him. YOU made it the big deal, by being secretive about it, then being a dumbass drunk, then arguing with me about it. I wouldn't have liked it, granted, but it bacame a huge deal because his retarded ass MADE it that way.
I tell him he needs to just agree that we can hang out with people of the opposite sex and it isn't a big deal. "Well...." he says...and I say, "See? It's because you don't trust me!" So quit projecting all your bullshit on me! Argh!!!
I have plenty of male friends that I've not hung out with in years, because it upsets him. And I think it's lame of me to do that to my friends. So every once in a while we hang out, and I never hear the end of it! But noooooooo, it's different when it's HIM!
He needs to shut the fuck up and take what he dishes out.
It's disrespectful.
And I really don't know how much more of it I can stand.
I mean, if he's going to treat me like a whore that he needs to keep a close watch on, I might as well act like one (except for that whole integrity thing that stops me.) If I was a whore, at least I'd be getting a hell of a lot more sex.
And then maybe I wouldn't be this fucking angry!
While talking to a friend last night, I told him "If I were my friend, I'd tell me to break up with him!" Which, granted, is a discombobulated sentence, but you get the idea. If I were listening to a friend of mine tell me the same stuff that comes out of my mouth, I'd be on the way over to help her pack, or at least kick his ass.
Oh, he's not cheating on me, or anything like that- he's just an insensitive asshole.
Last night one of the new girls at work had a bunch of friends from out of town come into town, and they all invite him to come with them to have a drink. Ok, not a problem. He's a local, they want to hang out. So what? But he doesn't call me to tell me that, because he knows it will irk me that he's going out drinking with the new girl, who I don't know, and therefore don't trust.
So he has a few beers with them THEN calls me when he's on the way home, and he's trashed.
This is the basis of our argument. I ask him why he didn't just call me first? Because, he says, he knows I will be mad. Ok, I say, so you know it will upset me and you do it anyway. That says a lot right there. And I tell him I wouldn't really give a shit at all, except for his double standard. He can be jealous as hell, but it's ok for him to go out drinking with some girl and all her friends? Oh, please. He makes up scenarios about guys talking to me and gets paranoid about the possibility of me talking to them, but he ACTUALLY goes and hangs out with other girls. What the fuck ever, I tell him.
So, ok, he goes out, then calls me, then comes home and is an argumentative drunk asshole about it all, trying to defend his reasons for going "I didn't want to be rude, they invited me!" Yet it's totally ok if he's rude to ME, just not to them. Again, that right there says a lot.
I tell him he didn't want to call me first because he just wanted to go out and not feel bad about it while he's sitting there. But NOW he's upset because he feels bad. I tell him thats his own guilt and to shut the fuck up about it, I'm sick of hearing about it! I mean, he comes home and keeps going on and on about it, out of guilt. In the meantime, I'm just trying to watch SNL, I don't want to listen to my drunk asshole boyfriend babble on about how it was ok for him to be an asshole. JUST SHUT UP, I say. "Ok, fine!" he retorts. "From now on I just won't tell you!!!"
Yah, thats really mature. It really gives me hope for this relationship (read: dripping sarcasm).
He finally passes out and is still defensive and stupid this morning when he comes in and realizes I slept on the couch. He STILL tries to argue about how it was no big deal. YES, I agree, I tell him. YOU made it the big deal, by being secretive about it, then being a dumbass drunk, then arguing with me about it. I wouldn't have liked it, granted, but it bacame a huge deal because his retarded ass MADE it that way.
I tell him he needs to just agree that we can hang out with people of the opposite sex and it isn't a big deal. "Well...." he says...and I say, "See? It's because you don't trust me!" So quit projecting all your bullshit on me! Argh!!!
I have plenty of male friends that I've not hung out with in years, because it upsets him. And I think it's lame of me to do that to my friends. So every once in a while we hang out, and I never hear the end of it! But noooooooo, it's different when it's HIM!
He needs to shut the fuck up and take what he dishes out.
It's disrespectful.
And I really don't know how much more of it I can stand.
I mean, if he's going to treat me like a whore that he needs to keep a close watch on, I might as well act like one (except for that whole integrity thing that stops me.) If I was a whore, at least I'd be getting a hell of a lot more sex.
And then maybe I wouldn't be this fucking angry!
Saturday, November 15, 2003
Well, the boyfriend and I were getting along great.
Damn him.
Sometimes I think he's more fucking work than he's even worth.
I mean, just when I think his head is out of his ass.....
THONK- it pops right back up there again.
Just as I blog about how things are getting better, he decides it's more important to him to act like an asshole than be a good boyfriend.
I wonder sometimes, if there's any hope.
It's like I might as well give a gun to shoot himself in the foot.
Damn him.
Sometimes I think he's more fucking work than he's even worth.
I mean, just when I think his head is out of his ass.....
THONK- it pops right back up there again.
Just as I blog about how things are getting better, he decides it's more important to him to act like an asshole than be a good boyfriend.
I wonder sometimes, if there's any hope.
It's like I might as well give a gun to shoot himself in the foot.
Had another bout of insomnia again last night. Not sure why. But I do remember my boyfriend waking up and asking me why I was standing in the middle of the room. My son had been crying in his sleep, and I was waiting to see if he was back asleep again before I laid back down. I told him that, and he said, "Well, just tell him to go back to sleep!" Seeing as how it was 5 am, and I hadn't slept for shit thus far, I found that to be a very amusing thing for him to say. I laughed (in a cynical sleep deprived way) and he said, "What?" I told him, " Thats easier said than done."
The Boyfriend and I have been getting along great. For awhile there, we were not. We were so not, in fact, that I pondered life without him. And that is terribly sad, because I think we are so absolutely made for each other. But now things are good again.
The reason things are good is because he is behaving himself (said tongue in cheek). And I wonder: who am I to tell him how to act? If I didn't tell him he was being an asshole, would he just be that way anyway? Should I just let him be however he wants, even if that means breaking up? Who am I to tell him he must act a certain way? Or, am I utterly correct in telling him, since these are vital lessons in relating we're talking about here? Are our arguments normal parts of relationship "stuff" that is bound to occur?
Who knows. These are things I wonder about sometimes, though.
The reason things are good is because he is behaving himself (said tongue in cheek). And I wonder: who am I to tell him how to act? If I didn't tell him he was being an asshole, would he just be that way anyway? Should I just let him be however he wants, even if that means breaking up? Who am I to tell him he must act a certain way? Or, am I utterly correct in telling him, since these are vital lessons in relating we're talking about here? Are our arguments normal parts of relationship "stuff" that is bound to occur?
Who knows. These are things I wonder about sometimes, though.
Pity Party
Spent most of the day laying on the couch. Finally felt up to cleaning the house at 4pm. Did so. Promptly felt like total shit again. The smell of bleach was actually making me light headed. Made some dinner and realized it's sitting here in front of me but I don't care to eat it.
I'm starting to wonder if maybe I did some brain damage when I fell down those stairs. I can't remember shit from one second to the next. I notice this mainly with the medications I'm supposed to take. I'll get one out then set it down....grab the laundry and come back into the kitchen and stand there. Did I already take it? Or did I get it out and just set it down? And I have no idea. I'm finding this to be really frightening. Because I don't want to overdose, I wait until the next time I'm supposed to take it. So I can't figure out if I'm in pain because I forgot to take my medication or not.
I feel like a pot head.
I'm starting to wonder if maybe I did some brain damage when I fell down those stairs. I can't remember shit from one second to the next. I notice this mainly with the medications I'm supposed to take. I'll get one out then set it down....grab the laundry and come back into the kitchen and stand there. Did I already take it? Or did I get it out and just set it down? And I have no idea. I'm finding this to be really frightening. Because I don't want to overdose, I wait until the next time I'm supposed to take it. So I can't figure out if I'm in pain because I forgot to take my medication or not.
I feel like a pot head.
"The bells are pealing and they're revealing the simple key to happiness....it isn't evil, it isn't good, it's only what the people missed...the bell's explaining what they've been lacking all along; they were disorganized and that was what was wrong...and now they know the way to go...the bells are ringing, they hear the sound..."
-They Might Be Giants
-They Might Be Giants
Friday, November 14, 2003
You know, the more times I receive this stupid e-mail about the Golden Fleece Retirement Plan, the more I want to be a rude bitch to the people that sent it to me. I have told everyone on my mailing list to check things out first at www.purportal.com before they send me any more retarded crap about anything. If it sounds too amazing to be true, it's probably some bullshit someone made up! Check first! Helloooooo?
QUIT SENDING IT TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ARGGHHHHHHH!!!!
QUIT SENDING IT TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ARGGHHHHHHH!!!!
Thursday, November 13, 2003
The new Clone Wars cartoon is cool, granted. But I am a bit confused by the micro series element of it. Why is George Lucas tormenting us this way? These micro cartoons come on for 5 minutes each week night. 5 freakin minutes. You miss the first minute, it's hopeless. You're already totally lost as to what is happening.
So the only conclusion I can come up with is that this is some marketing appeal to the attention challenged individuals among us.
So the only conclusion I can come up with is that this is some marketing appeal to the attention challenged individuals among us.
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Monday, November 10, 2003
I killed a squirrel today.
I was driving through a neighborhood (not very fast) and I saw a squirrel dart out and dash until my truck. There was that brief moment where everything slows down and I thought, "Maybe he made it!" Then ~bump~.
It's only the second time I hit anything, ever. The first time was right after I got my license and I hit a bird. I cried like a baby over it.
This time I thought about their squirrel spouse, like, is there a squirrel family I should go apologize to? Leave them nuts all winter? (sigh)
I feed the squirrels in my back yard all winter. I like squirrels (except when they crap all over my deck). It was a small consolation then, that I feed his brethren squirrels. I favor the one with the scrawny tail. I'm trying to fatten it up before it gets too cold.
Sorry, squirrel buddy.
I was driving through a neighborhood (not very fast) and I saw a squirrel dart out and dash until my truck. There was that brief moment where everything slows down and I thought, "Maybe he made it!" Then ~bump~.
It's only the second time I hit anything, ever. The first time was right after I got my license and I hit a bird. I cried like a baby over it.
This time I thought about their squirrel spouse, like, is there a squirrel family I should go apologize to? Leave them nuts all winter? (sigh)
I feed the squirrels in my back yard all winter. I like squirrels (except when they crap all over my deck). It was a small consolation then, that I feed his brethren squirrels. I favor the one with the scrawny tail. I'm trying to fatten it up before it gets too cold.
Sorry, squirrel buddy.
Sunday, November 09, 2003
It's time to hire some new trainees. While I have been excited about being promoted and thrilled about running the company, this bit of labor is frightening to me. These are people I am hiring and I will have to trust them to do a good job. If they fail, I will have to take up their slack until I can find someone to replace them. And while I have never been good delegating responsibility (the saying "If you want something done right, do it yourself" could have come from my lips) I am an even worse judge of character. I have proven this over and over again in my life. I think I know someone than BAM! They do something that blows me completely out of the water. ~cringe~ Should I be in charge of hiring anyone???
But I realize this is to be a growing experience for me. I do not trust myself to hire people, but my bosses do. They must see something in me that I don't, and for now I am going to have to trust their judgement, even if I don't trust my own. I may just surprise myself.
Please God, let me surprise myself.
But I realize this is to be a growing experience for me. I do not trust myself to hire people, but my bosses do. They must see something in me that I don't, and for now I am going to have to trust their judgement, even if I don't trust my own. I may just surprise myself.
Please God, let me surprise myself.
Saturday, November 08, 2003
Last night I went downtown with a friend of mine to see some of the movies from the Asheville Film Festival. She was really bummed out because the movie was sold out. I was not upset at all, because we ended up walking around downtown all night, which I never have a chance to do. It's funny, when you live like a hermit then suddenly go back out again...the lights, the nights chill, the excitement, the adventure...it's all so fresh, so thrilling, so interesting. We just walked around and talked to people for hours, and I couldn't have had a better time. Well....maybe if I had a pocket full of money but since I had a whopping five bucks, that limit my adventures. And I'm so glad.
Friday, November 07, 2003
Had a possible flash of insight last night before falling asleep:
Thinking back to the ex whose wife dislikes me...loyalty is very important in women's friendships. And maybe her dislike of me has to do with the fact that my loyalty was always with her husband. Meaning, if they were in an argument and she says he did such and such wrong, I never did take her side. Although trying to be supportive (and I am admittedly a horrible liar) I would always be wondering what she did to make him act like that.
That does not make me a good friend. Well, at least to her. He might feel differently, since my allegiance is toward him.
So I thought about it awhile, and realized it is this way with all my ex's. Well, the ones that ended amicably anyway. So it should come as no surprise to me that their wives don't like me. I don't think it makes me a crappy person, despite what the women may feel about it. I've heard many Leo's described this way and I am certainly no exception: Leo's are ridiculously loyal. Once you've made one for a (true) friend you've made a friend for life. And sentimental? Shoo. Bordering on insanity, in my opinion. But that is beside the point (I do wander this week, don't I? Ugh).
She may have various reasons for not liking me, all being her own opinion. I am fairly certain that this is a major issue between us, though. And if so, there is no hope of me changing. Loyalty is loyalty. There is no way around that. I certainly can't change the way I feel (the way I am) to please her. Nor would I want to.
She may well despise me for it, but for me it's a matter of integrity.
Oh, I know. It's rather socially inept of me to do such a thing. As a woman, it's important that I be polite and play by the rules, right? I must be extra polite to my ex's current loves, because the fact that I'm an ex might upset them. I mean, I've been in their shoes many times myself and I know how it feels.
Am I suppose to be gaining some more empathy here? (Picture me smacking myself upside the head)
I'm trying to figure out if my boyfriends ex's bother me that much...having a jealous streak that I try hard to pretend doesn't exist, I would have to admit yes. Although the only one I ever run into is the one that bugs me the most...I think that is due to the fact she made passes at me when I first met her. Like, while he is MY boyfriend and she is the EX, she is hitting on me, dancing all up on me at parties...can you say YUCK? Like, yah I want a threesome with you and your ex, wait let me finish barfing there we go, the answer is NO. I consider this a very valid reason for disliking her. She would call every once in a while, on his birthday and what not, and I would be polite. Then she got a new boyfriend and quit calling, which led me to believe she didn't want to remain friends with my boyfriend, she had wanted to remain his girlfriend. Once she replaced him she was over it, you know?
More on this later- my back is killing me.
Thinking back to the ex whose wife dislikes me...loyalty is very important in women's friendships. And maybe her dislike of me has to do with the fact that my loyalty was always with her husband. Meaning, if they were in an argument and she says he did such and such wrong, I never did take her side. Although trying to be supportive (and I am admittedly a horrible liar) I would always be wondering what she did to make him act like that.
That does not make me a good friend. Well, at least to her. He might feel differently, since my allegiance is toward him.
So I thought about it awhile, and realized it is this way with all my ex's. Well, the ones that ended amicably anyway. So it should come as no surprise to me that their wives don't like me. I don't think it makes me a crappy person, despite what the women may feel about it. I've heard many Leo's described this way and I am certainly no exception: Leo's are ridiculously loyal. Once you've made one for a (true) friend you've made a friend for life. And sentimental? Shoo. Bordering on insanity, in my opinion. But that is beside the point (I do wander this week, don't I? Ugh).
She may have various reasons for not liking me, all being her own opinion. I am fairly certain that this is a major issue between us, though. And if so, there is no hope of me changing. Loyalty is loyalty. There is no way around that. I certainly can't change the way I feel (the way I am) to please her. Nor would I want to.
She may well despise me for it, but for me it's a matter of integrity.
Oh, I know. It's rather socially inept of me to do such a thing. As a woman, it's important that I be polite and play by the rules, right? I must be extra polite to my ex's current loves, because the fact that I'm an ex might upset them. I mean, I've been in their shoes many times myself and I know how it feels.
Am I suppose to be gaining some more empathy here? (Picture me smacking myself upside the head)
I'm trying to figure out if my boyfriends ex's bother me that much...having a jealous streak that I try hard to pretend doesn't exist, I would have to admit yes. Although the only one I ever run into is the one that bugs me the most...I think that is due to the fact she made passes at me when I first met her. Like, while he is MY boyfriend and she is the EX, she is hitting on me, dancing all up on me at parties...can you say YUCK? Like, yah I want a threesome with you and your ex, wait let me finish barfing there we go, the answer is NO. I consider this a very valid reason for disliking her. She would call every once in a while, on his birthday and what not, and I would be polite. Then she got a new boyfriend and quit calling, which led me to believe she didn't want to remain friends with my boyfriend, she had wanted to remain his girlfriend. Once she replaced him she was over it, you know?
More on this later- my back is killing me.
Thursday, November 06, 2003
Saw an interesting bumper sticker today, something about how no amount of wisdom could be better than kindness, and if I wasn't so damn sleep deprived I might remember what it was.
As I sat there at the light and stared at the bumper, I tried to wrap my mind around that one. What could be better than kindness? And although my cynical self tried hard to come up with a sarcasm witty remark about how kindness was passive and blah blah blah, it couldn't override the glaring fact: There is nothing more beautiful than kindness.
Hmmmm.
As I sat there at the light and stared at the bumper, I tried to wrap my mind around that one. What could be better than kindness? And although my cynical self tried hard to come up with a sarcasm witty remark about how kindness was passive and blah blah blah, it couldn't override the glaring fact: There is nothing more beautiful than kindness.
Hmmmm.
My boyfriend didn't come home till 3am- didn't call, nothing. By midnight I was worried- by three I was certain he was dead, or at least hooked up to some machines in a hospital.
And while he's driven me crazy lately with his selfish insensitive behavior, this had the opposite reaction. I was so certain he was dead or hurt or something, that by the time he walked in the door I was bawling and just so happy he was alive.
I was pretty sure (and he was positive) that my feelings would change today and I would be furious instead. Maybe it's a side effect of the lack of sleep, but I am not furious. I feel like I should be. I mean, I had called the police already and they were on their way so I could fill out a missing persons report. I called them back when I saw him drive up.
He went to the bar then went back into work to sober up before he drove home (of which I approve) but fell asleep instead.
I called his work at least seven or eight times.
He claims he never heard it (if you knew how deep he sleeps you would understand) but that doesn't stop me from wondering, nosiree. I told him that it could sound like a construed little plan to go cheat on me, also. And while my traumatized self would like to take this idea and run with it, into a paranoid frenzy, I don't believe that's true.
But I can't help but wonder, also.
I digress from my point- which is due to the sleep deprivation and muscle relaxants and general trauma of my week thus far. Hell, the last few weeks seem to be going this way- fucked up and seemingly senseless. I'm sure there's a pattern, I just haven't found it yet. I likely won't tonight anyway. Two hours of sleep does not a sane woman make.
My point is that although this should have me infuriated, I'm surprised to find myself just releived. Anything else would have made me ponder life without him (as his behaviour has me wondering lately) but this made me think of life without him as a hideous nightmare. Of course, breaking up is far different than death.
God I am so tired.
And while he's driven me crazy lately with his selfish insensitive behavior, this had the opposite reaction. I was so certain he was dead or hurt or something, that by the time he walked in the door I was bawling and just so happy he was alive.
I was pretty sure (and he was positive) that my feelings would change today and I would be furious instead. Maybe it's a side effect of the lack of sleep, but I am not furious. I feel like I should be. I mean, I had called the police already and they were on their way so I could fill out a missing persons report. I called them back when I saw him drive up.
He went to the bar then went back into work to sober up before he drove home (of which I approve) but fell asleep instead.
I called his work at least seven or eight times.
He claims he never heard it (if you knew how deep he sleeps you would understand) but that doesn't stop me from wondering, nosiree. I told him that it could sound like a construed little plan to go cheat on me, also. And while my traumatized self would like to take this idea and run with it, into a paranoid frenzy, I don't believe that's true.
But I can't help but wonder, also.
I digress from my point- which is due to the sleep deprivation and muscle relaxants and general trauma of my week thus far. Hell, the last few weeks seem to be going this way- fucked up and seemingly senseless. I'm sure there's a pattern, I just haven't found it yet. I likely won't tonight anyway. Two hours of sleep does not a sane woman make.
My point is that although this should have me infuriated, I'm surprised to find myself just releived. Anything else would have made me ponder life without him (as his behaviour has me wondering lately) but this made me think of life without him as a hideous nightmare. Of course, breaking up is far different than death.
God I am so tired.
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
Reading the headlines from Detroit is always interesting. Found one today about a local man (from Detroit) who was found dead near the highway in Montana. According to the coroners report, he apparently starved himself to death. There was water in the car which he seems to have not drank any of....and he was in his car for maybe three weeks, they estimate, parked 100 yards off the side of the road.
What would posess someone to do such a thing?
What would posess someone to do such a thing?
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Another thing, about the ex- he showed me pictures of his son and wife and something about it made me so happy. I drove away smiling and thinking about him grinning in the picture and thinking what a great photo that will be for his kid to see when he grows up, his dad smiling and happy carving pumpkins with his son.
Sometimes I wonder about the people from my past and silently wish and hope they are doing well. I guess maybe this was confirmation that this one was. He looked so....merry in the picture, and I don't know, something about it just filled me with joy. It was like seeing the past and then fast forwarding into a moment in time in the future, and he was HAPPY and it was somehow relieving to see. Like he had found his place, his family, seeing his familys history in the making. It just looked right. And that is a beautiful thing.
Sometimes I wonder about the people from my past and silently wish and hope they are doing well. I guess maybe this was confirmation that this one was. He looked so....merry in the picture, and I don't know, something about it just filled me with joy. It was like seeing the past and then fast forwarding into a moment in time in the future, and he was HAPPY and it was somehow relieving to see. Like he had found his place, his family, seeing his familys history in the making. It just looked right. And that is a beautiful thing.
I saw an ex this past week. We were discussing people we know, or have known. One couple in particular I don't talk to anymore, and while we were talking about it I tried to play it off like it didn't bother me. I thought maybe I did a good job until I went into the bathroom and realized my neck and chest were all red and splotchy- it only does that when I get very very upset about something (my Mom says I get this from my dad). -chuckling- I never have been a good liar. And for the record, it does bother me, very much. I'm just not exactly sure why.
After sitting here giving it some thought-
I think some people just rub each other the wrong way. This person and I have tried to be friends. And sometimes it seemed to work. But looking back maybe even those moments were an illusion. Perhaps we've always been opposite polarities. But that annoys me, too. Because I think I am smarter than that, somehow. Like that is a blithe little answer to a question that vexes me, and I can't quite settle for that answer either. But even in my searching for an answer and a way to make it work, I sense resistance (hence the polarities concept).
It's like a damn Rubiks Cube to me; I rarely pick it up but when I do it just drives me nuts.
I was a whiz at the pyramid Rubiks, for the record. Had it down to 23 seconds.
But you know, I never did solve the Cube.
After sitting here giving it some thought-
I think some people just rub each other the wrong way. This person and I have tried to be friends. And sometimes it seemed to work. But looking back maybe even those moments were an illusion. Perhaps we've always been opposite polarities. But that annoys me, too. Because I think I am smarter than that, somehow. Like that is a blithe little answer to a question that vexes me, and I can't quite settle for that answer either. But even in my searching for an answer and a way to make it work, I sense resistance (hence the polarities concept).
It's like a damn Rubiks Cube to me; I rarely pick it up but when I do it just drives me nuts.
I was a whiz at the pyramid Rubiks, for the record. Had it down to 23 seconds.
But you know, I never did solve the Cube.
Monday, November 03, 2003
Today was absolutely beautiful. No, it's not the drugs talking, it really was amazing. A lovely 78 degrees in November is amazing. What makes it beautiful is because its November, the pollen count is low (not gone, but low) and I could have the windows open all day and suck up the yumminess of it all.
Those of you without allergies take this for granted.
Today I was doing my paperwork for work and sat next to the open screen door, and the smell of the pine trees outside of the deck came in. It's really one of the most wonderful smells in the world, I think. When the sun hits the tree and it warms the sap... I used to spend much of my childhood in pine trees. I liked to climb to the top of the one in our front yard and sit up there in the sun. It drove my mom crazy because I would come down hours later covered in sap (its hard to get out of clothes!). But for me it was paradise. Sometimes I would sit up there and sing, thinking no one could hear me and I was all alone with the trees and the birds and the sun. Other times I would just sit there quietly and hug the trunk, feeling the whole tree swaying in the wind, being one with the tree, feeling the roots secure in the ground, the top pointed ever reaching towards the sky...like it was stretching toward heaven, always reaching just a little bit further year after year...
When I was seventeen I got this old hunk of junk car and the brakes failed on it shortly thereafter. So my step dad and I sat out in the garage trying to bleed the brakes and when he thought we had it just right he told me to back it out. Unfortunately it had snowed, and our driveway was on a slight hill- so I backed out and the brakes failed and I went sliding down the hill BAM! right into my favorite tree. And my mom came running out asking me if I was alright, did I bump my head, why was I crying? And I said, " I hurt the tree!!!!" And sobbed until my step dad assured me the tree had a bit of bark missing but nothing else.
Years later my mom cut that tree down and I couldn't believe it, why? Why cut down a beautiful old tree?
I still don't understand, but today I sat by the door and felt the breeze and smelled the pines and felt really, truly happy.
Those of you without allergies take this for granted.
Today I was doing my paperwork for work and sat next to the open screen door, and the smell of the pine trees outside of the deck came in. It's really one of the most wonderful smells in the world, I think. When the sun hits the tree and it warms the sap... I used to spend much of my childhood in pine trees. I liked to climb to the top of the one in our front yard and sit up there in the sun. It drove my mom crazy because I would come down hours later covered in sap (its hard to get out of clothes!). But for me it was paradise. Sometimes I would sit up there and sing, thinking no one could hear me and I was all alone with the trees and the birds and the sun. Other times I would just sit there quietly and hug the trunk, feeling the whole tree swaying in the wind, being one with the tree, feeling the roots secure in the ground, the top pointed ever reaching towards the sky...like it was stretching toward heaven, always reaching just a little bit further year after year...
When I was seventeen I got this old hunk of junk car and the brakes failed on it shortly thereafter. So my step dad and I sat out in the garage trying to bleed the brakes and when he thought we had it just right he told me to back it out. Unfortunately it had snowed, and our driveway was on a slight hill- so I backed out and the brakes failed and I went sliding down the hill BAM! right into my favorite tree. And my mom came running out asking me if I was alright, did I bump my head, why was I crying? And I said, " I hurt the tree!!!!" And sobbed until my step dad assured me the tree had a bit of bark missing but nothing else.
Years later my mom cut that tree down and I couldn't believe it, why? Why cut down a beautiful old tree?
I still don't understand, but today I sat by the door and felt the breeze and smelled the pines and felt really, truly happy.
Sunday, November 02, 2003
Saturday, November 01, 2003
my stunt double is SOOOO fired!
There have been many scenes with someone falling down a flight of stairs in the movies. I have never seen anyone actually do it in real life. However, yesterday I got to experience it myself and I find it is far more violent and painful than it actually looks like. And after cracking my head on the concrete repeatedly- we're talking a full out of control double, possibly triple, who knows? somersault- and landing head first on the sidewalk, I want to clear the air about this subject: it hurts like fucking hell. I don't recommend it. Having a stunt double would have come in handy but alas, real life does not offer one, last I checked.
When I landed on the sidewalk, all I could do was lay there curled up and holding my head, too stunned to do anything but cry. Realizing I am on a public street and people in nearby buildings or cars might have witnessed it and are already calling a damn ambulance, I think to myself that I must sit up- I must show them I am not unconscious. I manage to do so but cannot open my eyes at all, just bawl while holding my head. I hear some nice people come up and say, "I didn't see you fall; are you ok?" I tell them, "Yes, I'm crying because it just scared me so bad!" And I realize I sound like a little kid. I also tell them I'm relieved they didn't see me fall, because it was just wicked. I find this vastly amusing about myself. I could be seriously injured, and my first thought is that someone may have seen me fall and I must show them I'm ok. My second thought is that I'm glad the people who came to my rescue didn't witness it because if they did they would not possibly believe me when I say I'm ok.
Then I open my eyes and see my bloody arm and think its not really a big deal, I can wash that and wrap it up...then I reach up and feel what is already an egg sized lump (mostly numb, which freaks me out) on the side of my head. I decide it's time to go to the emergency room, so I do. Having had a concussion when I was a child, I know my dumb ass had better high tail it to the hospital before I forget where I live and why I'm there.
Happily, I am ok. No concussion, no broken bones (they did an X-ray on my arm because it looked that bad) and other than some serious bruising and bandaging and pain, I'm fine. (editors note: Not fine. My neck and back turned out to be permenently fucked up.)
Two points:
1) I would be curious to see a tape of that (likely one exists, since I was outside of a bank) to see if it was as violent looking of a fall as it felt like. Seeing someone's head bounce off of concrete has got to look bad, and it never looks that painful in the movies.
2) I'm fascinated at my first thoughts after falling. I mean, what the hell was I thinking? I wasn't concerned about my own injuries, but relieved no one had to be traumatized by watching me fall. What the hell? After giving it some thought (not too much considering my aching head) I'm chalking it up to shock.
Shock would explain why I was bawling, but didn't even notice how serious my injuries were. Shock would explain my lack of curiosity as to my own injuries, but a great interest in other peoples feelings about it. Shock does some crazy things to you. And I was still shaking hours later- it was only after I was left in an exam room for a long enough time to cry in private that I stopped shaking. I was too busy after the fall trying to laugh it off so no one would panic. It was important to me that they not panic. If anyone was going to panic, it was going to be me, dammit. I worked hard to stop crying right after it happened.
I think that's really rather weird.
When I landed on the sidewalk, all I could do was lay there curled up and holding my head, too stunned to do anything but cry. Realizing I am on a public street and people in nearby buildings or cars might have witnessed it and are already calling a damn ambulance, I think to myself that I must sit up- I must show them I am not unconscious. I manage to do so but cannot open my eyes at all, just bawl while holding my head. I hear some nice people come up and say, "I didn't see you fall; are you ok?" I tell them, "Yes, I'm crying because it just scared me so bad!" And I realize I sound like a little kid. I also tell them I'm relieved they didn't see me fall, because it was just wicked. I find this vastly amusing about myself. I could be seriously injured, and my first thought is that someone may have seen me fall and I must show them I'm ok. My second thought is that I'm glad the people who came to my rescue didn't witness it because if they did they would not possibly believe me when I say I'm ok.
Then I open my eyes and see my bloody arm and think its not really a big deal, I can wash that and wrap it up...then I reach up and feel what is already an egg sized lump (mostly numb, which freaks me out) on the side of my head. I decide it's time to go to the emergency room, so I do. Having had a concussion when I was a child, I know my dumb ass had better high tail it to the hospital before I forget where I live and why I'm there.
Happily, I am ok. No concussion, no broken bones (they did an X-ray on my arm because it looked that bad) and other than some serious bruising and bandaging and pain, I'm fine. (editors note: Not fine. My neck and back turned out to be permenently fucked up.)
Two points:
1) I would be curious to see a tape of that (likely one exists, since I was outside of a bank) to see if it was as violent looking of a fall as it felt like. Seeing someone's head bounce off of concrete has got to look bad, and it never looks that painful in the movies.
2) I'm fascinated at my first thoughts after falling. I mean, what the hell was I thinking? I wasn't concerned about my own injuries, but relieved no one had to be traumatized by watching me fall. What the hell? After giving it some thought (not too much considering my aching head) I'm chalking it up to shock.
Shock would explain why I was bawling, but didn't even notice how serious my injuries were. Shock would explain my lack of curiosity as to my own injuries, but a great interest in other peoples feelings about it. Shock does some crazy things to you. And I was still shaking hours later- it was only after I was left in an exam room for a long enough time to cry in private that I stopped shaking. I was too busy after the fall trying to laugh it off so no one would panic. It was important to me that they not panic. If anyone was going to panic, it was going to be me, dammit. I worked hard to stop crying right after it happened.
I think that's really rather weird.
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