Tomorrow is THE day. This is what I've decided after weeks of thinking about it but doing nothing... And really, I've got a great excuse with KC going to spend the day with good old Grandpa tomorrow. I mean really if I'm already in the neighborhood, it would be absolutely rude of me NOT to drop by and say hello to Sheila, Jeff and of course, Bob... Sigh... Bob ... Available, guitar playing, church going, sweet and sincere, too good to be true country boy ready to settle down with the love of a good woman Bob... That Bob. And I am a good woman. An available, no longer waiting around for someone to get his head out of his ass, good woman.
On another note... A more serious note in fact, I could use a few get better prayers sent up in the direction of heaven. My cousin Matt is in critical condition with a serious head injury sustained from falling off a second story balcony earlier this morning, and while we did get the good news that his neck is not broken and he hasn't suffered any permanent paralysis, he's still not quite out of the woods. So if you could send one up, I know that everyone in my family, including myself, would appreciate your prayers.
Something...
Nothing...
Watching an interesting show on Bravo tonight featuring Whoopie Goldberg... And I have to say, I never really got just how cool she is.
Anyhoo... That's it.
More tomorrow.
Watching an interesting show on Bravo tonight featuring Whoopie Goldberg... And I have to say, I never really got just how cool she is.
Anyhoo... That's it.
More tomorrow.
Getting the Message (Again)
It's been a few weeks since I've been to church... And while I never set out intentionally not to go, I haven't been going all the same. And I've found that when I don't go, when I don't commit myself to Sunday morning, it really does manage to throw me out of whack. Certainly an odd ball experience for a woman who for the past ten years has managed to avoid all forms of organized religion.
If I were being honest - something that I find extremely easy to be until I have to analyze my own behavior - I'd say that I've been falling into the not so thrilled with God category again. And I realized just this morning, that the problem isn't with God at all but with me, because I keep expecting something more from faith than what faith is really all about.
I guess I've been waiting for some sort of sign. Something along the lines of, "Hey Stacey... It's been good to have you back at church, and now that you've finally come round to the right side of the road, it's time to start granting you some goodwill wishes... "
But God is neither a vending machine nor a magic genie. And God can't make things right for us when things go wrong unless we're prepared to assist in our own recovery. We have to want it, and work for it, side by side with faith. Without faith, it's easy to blame God rather than accept the blame as our own.
And so I cried - yet again - in church today. (A telling sign that I was exactly where I needed to be.) Trying my hardest to keep myself together, to hide my tears. Feeling stupid and ashamed that my emotions were getting the best of me in public. Trying to train my eyes (my eyes that give everything away) from looking at anyone else, concentrating mostly on the floor while holding onto the pew in front of me to keep myself from running out the door because I couldn't (couldn't being the key word) make myself sing the song.
I forced myself to plant my feet and listen to that entire song. And I knew that my meltdown wasn't going unnoticed. I know I didn't imagine the lay minister looking right at me when he asked us to bow our heads in silent prayer and pray for those of us who came to church today with sorrow in our hearts. And I don't imagine he asked us all once again to sing the last verse of the song I couldn't sing to reach out and say, "Yes... You are forgiven. This is something you need to know..."
I can never hide my heart in the House of God, not like I can wherever else I go. My personal motto has always been, "But you will not know." And I think there are a lot of people like me, people who have been let down so many times by the people they care about and the world in general, that they just reach the point where they simply can't allow it anymore. And instead of hanging on, and trying to work whatever it is out, it's easier to dull yourself down to a place where the pain can't be felt.
Going to church makes me recognize that I'm choosing to walk around with rocks in my pockets. Rocks of things I will not forgive myself for, rocks for people I will not forgive. And these rocks I insist on carrying have become for me a weighted albatross hung round my neck, a burden for my heart and my heart alone to carry. There can be no doubt that one of the lessons I'm meant to learn is the rightness of learning how to let some things go... After all, I don't believe I'm going out on a limb when I say that God didn't expect us to be pack mules for pain.
Lessons however are much easier in theory than practice and I am a frequent stumbler between getting things right and getting things wrong. Sometimes even though I know I've set out with the best of intentions, I still manage to make major blunders and botch things up without barely blinking an eye. Between sheer stubbornness and outright pride - two vices I'm well aware don't make my lesson learning any easier - it's hard for me to find my way to the high road when I suffer from an insatiable need to be right. Always right. Always in control.
The truth is there isn't always a right way and a wrong way... Sometimes there has to be a middle ground. And sometimes we have to be willing to meet the people that mean the most to us in it. Maybe we said some things that shouldn't have been said, maybe we did something we shouldn't have done, maybe we both made mountains out of molehills, and maybe neither one of us wants to admit to our mistakes.
I have to ask myself if it's worth it. Is the price to be right too high a price to pay when what you sacrifice is a significant part of yourself?
This is the message. Part of the lesson I've learned at church. That Jesus didn't turn his back or cast judgment on anyone. He opened his arms and forgave... He did it with love, and he did it with faith.
If I were being honest - something that I find extremely easy to be until I have to analyze my own behavior - I'd say that I've been falling into the not so thrilled with God category again. And I realized just this morning, that the problem isn't with God at all but with me, because I keep expecting something more from faith than what faith is really all about.
I guess I've been waiting for some sort of sign. Something along the lines of, "Hey Stacey... It's been good to have you back at church, and now that you've finally come round to the right side of the road, it's time to start granting you some goodwill wishes... "
But God is neither a vending machine nor a magic genie. And God can't make things right for us when things go wrong unless we're prepared to assist in our own recovery. We have to want it, and work for it, side by side with faith. Without faith, it's easy to blame God rather than accept the blame as our own.
And so I cried - yet again - in church today. (A telling sign that I was exactly where I needed to be.) Trying my hardest to keep myself together, to hide my tears. Feeling stupid and ashamed that my emotions were getting the best of me in public. Trying to train my eyes (my eyes that give everything away) from looking at anyone else, concentrating mostly on the floor while holding onto the pew in front of me to keep myself from running out the door because I couldn't (couldn't being the key word) make myself sing the song.
I’m forgiven because You were forsaken.
I’m accepted. You were condemned.
I’m alive and well,
Your Spirit is within me
Because You died and rose again.
I forced myself to plant my feet and listen to that entire song. And I knew that my meltdown wasn't going unnoticed. I know I didn't imagine the lay minister looking right at me when he asked us to bow our heads in silent prayer and pray for those of us who came to church today with sorrow in our hearts. And I don't imagine he asked us all once again to sing the last verse of the song I couldn't sing to reach out and say, "Yes... You are forgiven. This is something you need to know..."
I can never hide my heart in the House of God, not like I can wherever else I go. My personal motto has always been, "But you will not know." And I think there are a lot of people like me, people who have been let down so many times by the people they care about and the world in general, that they just reach the point where they simply can't allow it anymore. And instead of hanging on, and trying to work whatever it is out, it's easier to dull yourself down to a place where the pain can't be felt.
Going to church makes me recognize that I'm choosing to walk around with rocks in my pockets. Rocks of things I will not forgive myself for, rocks for people I will not forgive. And these rocks I insist on carrying have become for me a weighted albatross hung round my neck, a burden for my heart and my heart alone to carry. There can be no doubt that one of the lessons I'm meant to learn is the rightness of learning how to let some things go... After all, I don't believe I'm going out on a limb when I say that God didn't expect us to be pack mules for pain.
Lessons however are much easier in theory than practice and I am a frequent stumbler between getting things right and getting things wrong. Sometimes even though I know I've set out with the best of intentions, I still manage to make major blunders and botch things up without barely blinking an eye. Between sheer stubbornness and outright pride - two vices I'm well aware don't make my lesson learning any easier - it's hard for me to find my way to the high road when I suffer from an insatiable need to be right. Always right. Always in control.
The truth is there isn't always a right way and a wrong way... Sometimes there has to be a middle ground. And sometimes we have to be willing to meet the people that mean the most to us in it. Maybe we said some things that shouldn't have been said, maybe we did something we shouldn't have done, maybe we both made mountains out of molehills, and maybe neither one of us wants to admit to our mistakes.
I have to ask myself if it's worth it. Is the price to be right too high a price to pay when what you sacrifice is a significant part of yourself?
This is the message. Part of the lesson I've learned at church. That Jesus didn't turn his back or cast judgment on anyone. He opened his arms and forgave... He did it with love, and he did it with faith.
Not Again...
What crack my sister is on I'll never know... Once again she's managed to piss me off without even really trying... Or maybe she is trying and I'm not giving her enough credit. I just don't know.
She doesn't call, and really, I'm okay with the whole only hearing from her when I happen to be in the same room with her sort of thing we've got going on. I mean it's worked so well for all these months I'd really hate to break our streak this far into the run... But she calls tonight and she's all happy, too happy really, with this insincere singsong tone to her voice dripping all this sugary sweetness that reminds me of a nectarine left on a summer sidewalk to rot beneath the sun, and I just know... Know I'm not going to like whatever it is that's about to come out of her mouth.
"So I work with this guy Colin... And I gave him your number, and he's going to call you tomorrow. And he's a really great guy. Really has it altogether. Even has his own place."
And she keeps going on, endless with compliments for this guy Colin whom I'm assuming must be within earshot because she's laying it on so thick that no self respecting man would actually consider this a steller endorsement of any kind. (I can only imagine he's hearing all this and thinking in a brainless sort of way that she's being helpful.)
And still she keeps going... One hundred and one reasons later of why this guy couldn't possibly be a loser, my sister still doesn't make the connection that anyone she'd think to endorse is not anyone I'd ever consider talking to, let alone dating. And I'm listening, well half-listening really as I'm trying to watch the movie I was watching before she called, just waiting for her to stop talking and start breathing so I can tell her I have to go and get back to what at this moment in my life is more important. My couch, my movie and a quiet night at home with my kid and my cats... Spinsterhood here I come...
Mutual DNA aside, my sister doesn't have a clue about what I actually find appealing in a man. But what really gets me is that without my consent, she's given my private number out. Private being the key word. I mean the whole part about private is that I'm the one who gets to decide who gets those seven numbers directly associated with me. I'm the one who gets to decide who gets to be at the other end of that phone that's ringing mine. And what I really feel like doing right now is going to the grocery store or some other equally public place for a little payback. But that I suppose would be a bit juvenile... Just... But juvenile.
She just doesn't get it... And for reasons unknown to me she thinks she's doing me some great big favor. Little Stacey needs a man after all... And lord knows she can't pick them any better so we might as well make this a family effort.
And seriously, to hell with that idea... I'll call Jason, Mr. Needs to Have His Hands Surgically Amputated From His Arms back before I'd ever agree to letting my sister pick my men for me.
(Insert frustrated scream here.)
She doesn't call, and really, I'm okay with the whole only hearing from her when I happen to be in the same room with her sort of thing we've got going on. I mean it's worked so well for all these months I'd really hate to break our streak this far into the run... But she calls tonight and she's all happy, too happy really, with this insincere singsong tone to her voice dripping all this sugary sweetness that reminds me of a nectarine left on a summer sidewalk to rot beneath the sun, and I just know... Know I'm not going to like whatever it is that's about to come out of her mouth.
"So I work with this guy Colin... And I gave him your number, and he's going to call you tomorrow. And he's a really great guy. Really has it altogether. Even has his own place."
And she keeps going on, endless with compliments for this guy Colin whom I'm assuming must be within earshot because she's laying it on so thick that no self respecting man would actually consider this a steller endorsement of any kind. (I can only imagine he's hearing all this and thinking in a brainless sort of way that she's being helpful.)
And still she keeps going... One hundred and one reasons later of why this guy couldn't possibly be a loser, my sister still doesn't make the connection that anyone she'd think to endorse is not anyone I'd ever consider talking to, let alone dating. And I'm listening, well half-listening really as I'm trying to watch the movie I was watching before she called, just waiting for her to stop talking and start breathing so I can tell her I have to go and get back to what at this moment in my life is more important. My couch, my movie and a quiet night at home with my kid and my cats... Spinsterhood here I come...
Mutual DNA aside, my sister doesn't have a clue about what I actually find appealing in a man. But what really gets me is that without my consent, she's given my private number out. Private being the key word. I mean the whole part about private is that I'm the one who gets to decide who gets those seven numbers directly associated with me. I'm the one who gets to decide who gets to be at the other end of that phone that's ringing mine. And what I really feel like doing right now is going to the grocery store or some other equally public place for a little payback. But that I suppose would be a bit juvenile... Just... But juvenile.
She just doesn't get it... And for reasons unknown to me she thinks she's doing me some great big favor. Little Stacey needs a man after all... And lord knows she can't pick them any better so we might as well make this a family effort.
And seriously, to hell with that idea... I'll call Jason, Mr. Needs to Have His Hands Surgically Amputated From His Arms back before I'd ever agree to letting my sister pick my men for me.
(Insert frustrated scream here.)
An Interpretation of Violence
We try to make it something less than what it is. Needing to believe that all of this can just be random. These horrible things that happen, they happen to other people, other people in places far away from where we are. Things like this, things that don't happen to you or me...
In our own ways we can make them seem less real than what they are, these stories that end up as front page news. Screaming headlines and bylines, banter across our TV and computer screens allowing us to choose, to read, to hear, to make ourselves aware of every little last detail. This is what happened. This is when. And this, this is where it happened and to who.
Families touched by violence. Families torn apart by violence. Families. Friends. Neighbors. Strangers we'll never know. People we thought we did...
But I am here to tell you that there's absolutely nothing random about violence. It touches us no matter who we are, no matter where we go, no matter if we were there or not. It claims a corner in our living rooms. It's on our mind when we lock our doors at night. It's why we're so careful all the time. Why we do everything that we possibly can to protect ourselves from dangers we've not even allowed ourselves to imagine.
Some call it living in fear. And some would say that's no real way to live at all. My friend Toni likes to say, "When it's your time, it's your time." But I don't believe that. I don't believe God closes his eyes and walks away waiting for all of it to just be done. Even if it is our final moment, our final breath, I believe he's right there, surrounding us with love, holding our hands whispering words of encouragement and faith. He gives us strength when our own is waning. He fills our hearts with the courage to go on and for those whose options are stolen away by whatever violence has claimed, he gives us that same courage to let go.
I understand why people don't want to know. I understand why people choose to ignore it when bad things happen. I understand their fear far better than I do my own. Self-preservation cannot allow danger to get that close to their doors. It is information too much for them to bear. If it can happen to you... If it can happen to me... If both of us are failable, if both of us can know harm, it is we who become the unwelcome messenger, delivering the news that violence is not the random fiend they think it is. Random is what you do not know. The name you never knew to speak. The face your eyes have never met.
But I am not unaffected and I cannot turn a blind eye to the violence that lays waste to humanity each and every day.
One in four.
One in five.
Every ten seconds.
Every ten minutes.
Every hour.
Every day.
Another face. (You know...)
Another name. (You don't know...)
Another someone we might have known.
Another person we'll never meet.
They're out there.
We're out there...
Living with.
Dying from.
For reasons no one will ever pretend they have an answer for.
For reasons that defy anyone to comprehend...
In our own ways we can make them seem less real than what they are, these stories that end up as front page news. Screaming headlines and bylines, banter across our TV and computer screens allowing us to choose, to read, to hear, to make ourselves aware of every little last detail. This is what happened. This is when. And this, this is where it happened and to who.
Families touched by violence. Families torn apart by violence. Families. Friends. Neighbors. Strangers we'll never know. People we thought we did...
But I am here to tell you that there's absolutely nothing random about violence. It touches us no matter who we are, no matter where we go, no matter if we were there or not. It claims a corner in our living rooms. It's on our mind when we lock our doors at night. It's why we're so careful all the time. Why we do everything that we possibly can to protect ourselves from dangers we've not even allowed ourselves to imagine.
Some call it living in fear. And some would say that's no real way to live at all. My friend Toni likes to say, "When it's your time, it's your time." But I don't believe that. I don't believe God closes his eyes and walks away waiting for all of it to just be done. Even if it is our final moment, our final breath, I believe he's right there, surrounding us with love, holding our hands whispering words of encouragement and faith. He gives us strength when our own is waning. He fills our hearts with the courage to go on and for those whose options are stolen away by whatever violence has claimed, he gives us that same courage to let go.
I understand why people don't want to know. I understand why people choose to ignore it when bad things happen. I understand their fear far better than I do my own. Self-preservation cannot allow danger to get that close to their doors. It is information too much for them to bear. If it can happen to you... If it can happen to me... If both of us are failable, if both of us can know harm, it is we who become the unwelcome messenger, delivering the news that violence is not the random fiend they think it is. Random is what you do not know. The name you never knew to speak. The face your eyes have never met.
But I am not unaffected and I cannot turn a blind eye to the violence that lays waste to humanity each and every day.
One in four.
One in five.
Every ten seconds.
Every ten minutes.
Every hour.
Every day.
Another face. (You know...)
Another name. (You don't know...)
Another someone we might have known.
Another person we'll never meet.
They're out there.
We're out there...
Living with.
Dying from.
For reasons no one will ever pretend they have an answer for.
For reasons that defy anyone to comprehend...
Frustration Mounting
Almost a big oops on my part tonight... Almost lost the whole damn blog and I'm feeling more than a might pissy over the whole damn thing!
And I suppose that this is exactly what I get for being an ultra overprotective Mama... I try to make the world just that much safer for my offspring, and BAM, I manage to make it look like my eleven year old has been posting my blog for the past 4 years...
Not to worry... I sent the good people at Blogger a little love note, and I'm sure that someway, somehow, they will find a way to help me correct this grievous error...
Hell, I'll even admit that I'm a complete idiot if that's what it takes to get the wonderful support staff at blogger to un-botch my mistake... (And yes, I am laying it on thick here.)
So here goes... Cause you know I've no problem admitting this freely...
There are moments when I can be an absolute moron.
And I suppose that this is exactly what I get for being an ultra overprotective Mama... I try to make the world just that much safer for my offspring, and BAM, I manage to make it look like my eleven year old has been posting my blog for the past 4 years...
Not to worry... I sent the good people at Blogger a little love note, and I'm sure that someway, somehow, they will find a way to help me correct this grievous error...
Hell, I'll even admit that I'm a complete idiot if that's what it takes to get the wonderful support staff at blogger to un-botch my mistake... (And yes, I am laying it on thick here.)
So here goes... Cause you know I've no problem admitting this freely...
There are moments when I can be an absolute moron.
Is This Thing On? (A Blog on the Dreadful Lack of Comments)
My brain is absolutely fried and I should have been in bed a half hour ago... But here I am, music ringing in my ears and writing a blog that no one is going to read. And it sure would be nice to get some feedback now and then from someone, anyone really... I mean hello, I did have a near death experience yesterday! And no one and I do mean no one felt the need to say, "Hey, I'm glad you're still around..."
I am so not feeling the love here people. And I'm generally a needy person in this category... So seriously, help a girl out.
Meanwhile in other news, I am so not feeling my fingers anymore... They've gone numb from too much typing and too little thinking today. It's nice however not to think as much as I usually do so I'm scratching that from my list of complaints... At least for now or until I need something to bitch about which if I check my watch should give us at least five minutes before the tide will turn...
Anyhoo I'm off to bed to dream my dysfunctional dreams because for once I just don't have all that much to say... Well, maybe just goodnight.
I am so not feeling the love here people. And I'm generally a needy person in this category... So seriously, help a girl out.
Meanwhile in other news, I am so not feeling my fingers anymore... They've gone numb from too much typing and too little thinking today. It's nice however not to think as much as I usually do so I'm scratching that from my list of complaints... At least for now or until I need something to bitch about which if I check my watch should give us at least five minutes before the tide will turn...
Anyhoo I'm off to bed to dream my dysfunctional dreams because for once I just don't have all that much to say... Well, maybe just goodnight.
A Little Help From Above
I almost met my maker this morning and I can tell you that unlike other people who might have said that their life flashed before their eyes, the only thing that ran though my mind was one simple thought, "Please don't let this hurt..."
And really that was the only thing I could think of as I sat like a sitting duck in my car with my eyes squished tight and a monosyllabic scream emitting from my throat while a large SUV came barrelling over to my side of the road as if he had lost control or lost his mind... (Whichever came first...)
The diagram I so cleverly created (during the last 15 minutes of my work day) to help re-enact the almost accident (for your reading pleasure) is as true of a representation as my non-artistic hands can draw. The details go a little something like this...
It was early... Early enough to know that my coffee was too hot to drink, there weren't any good songs on the radio and the van in front of me was nearly impossible to see around. I was taking my time, running early for once to work and in no great rush to get there when I noticed that the van in front of me was breaking hard, breaking way too early for the four way stop ahead. Being the law abiding driver that I am, I started breaking myself, anticipating what I didn't know ahead of me, but anticipating something all the same.
It happened as fast as a strike of lightning. On a narrow road with barely any shoulder to speak of, a high speed SUV - for reasons unknown - suddenly leaped from his own lane to ours. I looked up and suddenly he was there directly in front of us, the white van and I. And I thought for sure that this was it. He was going to plow into the white van and right into me and we were all about to be toast. Instead he jerked his wheel, hit the shoulder at max speed and kept going for all he was worth, passing my car on the right passenger side so close that I had to check twice to see if my mirror was still intact.After I remembered how to breathe, and yes, this did take a minute or so, it was if nothing had even happened. In my rear view mirror I could see that public menace number one had made it back into his own lane, and traffic around me was continuing on as if nothing out of the norm had happened. But there I was wanting answers. Wanting to know exactly what happened and why and a little bit pissed that this driver didn't even have the sense to pull his damn car over and cool his jets before continuing on his merry little way despite the fact that he came damn close - too close really - to annihilating two people in two cars on a Monday morning...
On the bright side however, I've got to be thankful for whatever blessing kept us all out of harms way...
Thanks Guardian Angel... We'll do lunch. Soon... Just not too soon...
The Last Installment of Harry Potter
I bought it yesterday morning. Read the entire thing last night. And now I know how it ends after all this time. Not to worry however, I'm not going to give anything away about how it all panned out...
If anything I'm simply a little bummed out knowing that all things must reach their own conclusions... Even good books.
Now Not Then
I've been waiting to write this post for the past few weeks. Counting down the numbers that brought me closer to this, my sixty-third post of the year, the same number of posts I wrote last year.
And they are more than just simple entries.
They are my story. The sad truth of a year lived in sorrow, a year spent hiding and living with fear. And I cannot be honest with anyone if I say that I came through all of that just fine. The truth is I came out on the other side fractured in ways I am still learning. Things that make me cringe, things that make me want to run as far and as fast as I can.
I know what it's like to be emotionally crippled. To be broken down slowly, one small piece at a time, until the only thing you can feel is the fault he lays at your door. Whether he meant to be that teacher or just came by it naturally I'll never know. All I know is that I am thankful for where I am and for where he is not...
Cleaning Up the Chaos
I'm living on cheese sticks. String cheese sticks to be exact and not their really unhealthy counterparts deep fried in oil and served with marinara on the side. My idea of dinner these past few nights has been grabbing two of those babies out of the fridge, a glass of water to wash them down with and then wishing fervently that there was a pint of ice cream hiding somewhere in my freezer somewhere behind the packages of frozen chicken and the spare rigi sauce I ration for emergency comfort food moments.
All in all tonight hasn't been all that bad, aside from almost breaking my ass from tripping over my vacuum which I forget to put away. After talking to my Mother for almost two hours last night on the phone - burning my minutes before nine no less - I decided that it's high time I start getting myself back together from this little mini meltdown I've been having. Which is why I came home and started cleaning like a mad woman tonight. You see, if there's one thing I know - and know well, it's that the state of my house is a clear indication of the state of my life. If my house is a mess, so am I...
So I'm cleaning it up, putting books back on bookshelves, folding laundry and putting it away, vacuuming the dust bunnies and restoring order to my home. And already, I feel better. More in control then out of it. And that's how I want to be. I don't like being sad and miserable and whatever else I'm prone to being when things aren't how I would like them to be. Because I'm really much better being the fast thinking smart ass girl who can pull a punchline out of thin air and make people laugh even if the joke is on them.
Meanwhile I wish I had the money to hire me some Merry Maids... Preferably of the male variety. I just love a man who knows his way around a feather duster.
All in all tonight hasn't been all that bad, aside from almost breaking my ass from tripping over my vacuum which I forget to put away. After talking to my Mother for almost two hours last night on the phone - burning my minutes before nine no less - I decided that it's high time I start getting myself back together from this little mini meltdown I've been having. Which is why I came home and started cleaning like a mad woman tonight. You see, if there's one thing I know - and know well, it's that the state of my house is a clear indication of the state of my life. If my house is a mess, so am I...
So I'm cleaning it up, putting books back on bookshelves, folding laundry and putting it away, vacuuming the dust bunnies and restoring order to my home. And already, I feel better. More in control then out of it. And that's how I want to be. I don't like being sad and miserable and whatever else I'm prone to being when things aren't how I would like them to be. Because I'm really much better being the fast thinking smart ass girl who can pull a punchline out of thin air and make people laugh even if the joke is on them.
Meanwhile I wish I had the money to hire me some Merry Maids... Preferably of the male variety. I just love a man who knows his way around a feather duster.
Even I'm Not Listening...
I'm becoming my job... Working all sorts of hours to avoid going home and the deafening quiet that exists when KC is away. And she's away from home again, gone for the next five days to visit with her Dad. So at five o'clock I don't rush home. Instead I sit in my office listening to everyone else leave.
Tonight I came home, sat on my couch and cried. Cried because nothing feels right to me anymore and I haven't figured out if it's me or just the rest of the world that I need to blame. What I want to know is the why. The why nothing ever comes easy to me. Why everything seems like an unobtainable goal. Why it seems so damn easy for everyone else to get it altogether while I'm still fumbling around in the darkness trying to pull myself together.
What happens when you're thankful for what you have but know you're still missing crucial elements of what you need? I don't want to seem ungrateful - and this is how I usually put it in my prayers to God - but if someone could clue me in on what this big lesson I need to learn is, I'd like the opportunity to right whatever wrong I'm guilty of. You know, wipe the slate clean, start all over again, make things right, fix what's broken, get on with things, move forward in a new direction, turn over that new leaf...
Instead I keep getting tested, and re-tested, and then tested some more. It's like a boxing match... In this corner we've got Tate, Tate who is unhappily married but would like me to count him as a do-able option. While in the opposing corner Chance is hoping I'll consider taking up where we left off - but really, after the whole night spent half alone in Vermont, I think I've already had my wake up call with that one. Meanwhile in the corner closest to me, the man I want to be in my sights is nowhere to be seen. And it may just be my wake up call was eight months ago and I'm a little late on answering it...
The last corner of course is mine and without a doubt I have been and can be my own worst foe. I can fuck myself over quicker than any man on this planet. Find me a wall and I'll make sure I find a way to run into it at least twenty times before I find my way around. And while it all sounds quite funny in a she just fell out of her chair and broke her elbow sort of way, I can assure you that after the first few years of getting it wrong, I did eventually think I was going to get it right... But I guess that joke it on me because seriously, who knew I'd be so damn good at getting it wrong?Living With the Forgotten
I woke up this morning with the idea of a dream still lingering on my mind. It seems I'm doing a lot of dreaming these days. Dreams that pull the past back to the present with all the faces I've forgotten.
So many years and each one seems to have been just yesterday. So many changes, good and bad. So many opportunities passed by and still waiting in the wings. So many, many things that I remember in a smile, in a word, in a name I hadn't thought to speak for years.
I've lived my entire life with my eyes on the door, always better at remembering the things I've lost, always realizing too late where my mistakes were made. I've lived and I haven't lived at all. Scared that one more wrong move on my part is going to get me lost for good. And getting lost, if you haven't figured it out by now, is my biggest fear. It's where the monsters are...
Put your brave face on. Maybe it's ridiculous for a woman of my age to need that reminder. And yet, I fake confidence well. Well enough if you don't notice my hands wringing themselves away. Well enough if you don't wonder why you can't comment on the color of my eyes. Well enough if you don't think there's so much more you're not seeing.
So many years and each one seems to have been just yesterday. So many changes, good and bad. So many opportunities passed by and still waiting in the wings. So many, many things that I remember in a smile, in a word, in a name I hadn't thought to speak for years.
I've lived my entire life with my eyes on the door, always better at remembering the things I've lost, always realizing too late where my mistakes were made. I've lived and I haven't lived at all. Scared that one more wrong move on my part is going to get me lost for good. And getting lost, if you haven't figured it out by now, is my biggest fear. It's where the monsters are...Put your brave face on. Maybe it's ridiculous for a woman of my age to need that reminder. And yet, I fake confidence well. Well enough if you don't notice my hands wringing themselves away. Well enough if you don't wonder why you can't comment on the color of my eyes. Well enough if you don't think there's so much more you're not seeing.
Miscommunication
Be mad at me. Because it's easier for you to be angry at me right now than it is to be mad at someone else or even yourself. Be mad at me because I've spent the past few months trying to be on your side, on no ones side or at least standing safely in the middle; knowing all the while that there truly was no middle ground.
Be mad at me because I'm saying the same things you told me when I was living with Ed, the same things I didn't want to hear, was scared to hear, but needed to hear all the same.
Be mad at me when you know you're not listening to yourself, that you're still not happy. Be mad at me because you need to hurt someone right now that might actually feel something akin to pain.
Be mad at me because you don't know where else to direct your anger because everything is just too much and you don't know how to live with it anymore, or where to begin to make things better.
Be mad at me because I'm an easy target, a target who doesn't move and doesn't run away. Be mad at me because I see things with a different set of eyes and a mouthful of my own opinions be they right or wrong.
Be mad at me because I'm your best friend and regardless of how many times you hang up a phone on me, there is never a time when I won't return your call.
Be mad at me... But get over it soon.
Help Wanted
Relatively intelligent female seeks information on how to properly inflate car tires as attempt to do so herself earlier this evening seems to have deflated them even more...
Same female also admits to adamant refusal to seek help from gas station attendants when it became painfully obvious that she had no idea what she was doing, choosing instead to ring her best friend on phone for moron support despite friends urging that she "Suck it up and ask for help..."
Woman in question plans to leave for work very early in the morning to attempt aerating her tires to their proper pressure... Even though she has absolutely no idea what that is. She does know however that this time she should turn the air on...
Signing off. Saying goodnight. Going to bed. Trying all of this again... Tomorrow.
My Kind of Sunday Drive
Octavia demands attention from her strategical post next to my computer, flopping around like a fish until she falls clear off the side of my small antique desk, landing of course, as all cats do, on her feet.
Meanwhile I can't help but wonder how KC is faring at camp. These past two nights the skies have unleashed an ocean of rain upon us. You don't think much about it when you're inside, a storm is just a storm, and yet outside with nothing more than a tent for protection, a storm becomes something quite scary altogether.
Even my Dad got into the worried wart act, calling earlier to see if KC had checked in with a status report of her first night away from home. Considering the cell phone ban at camp, I gently reminded him that we're pretty much clueless until Friday pick up time. Thankfully - and no thanks to my Dad - I'll be able to find my way back to get her.
Considering my horrid sense of direction, I asked Dad to to go along for the ride yesterday as my co-captain of navigation. However when Dad suggested a direction not in accordance with the directions I'd (thankfully) written down from an earlier search of Google Maps, I opted to ignore him (which was really quite reminiscent of my more formative years from about 14 to 21) turned the car around and got us back on the right track while he sat quite smugly on his side of the car, waiting for an I told you you're going the wrong way so moment.
(It turns out Dad was a bit confused on the actual destination of where we were (key word here is were) going, directing us instead to Watertown... I'll give my Dad a little bit of credit here as he would have been right on how to get Watertown, had that been our actual destination. Dad was later stripped of his co-captain capacity...)
I did however learn an important lesson for future direction taking down... North, South, East and West aren't just arrows on a compass... (And like, who knew?)
Evidently I need to remember to write more down that just the route number... Imagine the fun time I had when I got to the route I needed and was given two options to choose from. (TWO!)
A little eeny, a little miney, and a wee bit of moe later it turns out my guess was right and North was (heck, I'm still shocked I guessed right) the way to go, proving once again that even though I'm sometimes at a loss for common sense, my luck hasn't completely run out... (I should also give a shout out of thanks to the kind police officer who didn't pull me over for speeding when he so could have... What can I say, I speed when I'm nervous...)
Little Nut Far From Home
My girl is gone away... Five sleeps and six days away from me with only a sleeping bag to keep her warm and a flimsy shelter to keep her safe.
And here I was so concerned that she'd be scared to watch me walk away and leave her there to fend for herself and make new friends. Instead it's me, worrying that maybe she's not warm enough or sitting too close to the campfire or scared as darkness begins to settle like a blanket over the pines.
"You're leaving already?" she asked me earlier when I told her it was time for me to leave, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
I smiled, pulled her in for a comforting hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "I don't think they're going to let me stay..."
I walked away wanting to look back but didn't, remembering a conversation I had earlier on in the week with my Mother about KC being just the right age to go to a sleep-away camp. I guess I just never considered that the person who wouldn't be ready might be me...
Coming Up For Air
Hurt collects like rain water and I seem to be a natural reservoir.
It's always been this way. As long as I can remember... When I was a kid, I could be as quick with a smile as I could with a wet face full of tears. Either way, I've never felt anything halfway. Regardless of my needs, regardless of my wants, I feel everything my heart has to offer.
Maybe I have no real reason to be sad right at this moment. But I am. Sad with a small smile on my face and a faraway look. The look you get when a million memories are knocking on your door and you let them in because you never think not to answer.
There are times when I wish I could unload everything, to drop this weight from my shoulders. And I know that it's me at the heart of my own burden. Because there are words inside me that I will not share...
Half Listening
Does anyone have any idea how difficult it is to blog and talk on the phone at the same time? I'm typing, Brenda's cleaning her coffee pot and our conversation is swimming in and out of some mixed form of consciousness which includes moments where neither one of us say anything until we realize we're on the phone not speaking, when suddenly I say...
"I just want to play Qbert... Right now!"
Needless to say this is as exciting as our Friday nights are at the moment...
Eds In All Shapes and Sizes
All my exes are named Ed, they are a conglomerate ranging from the first to the last and a mixture of potential un-potentials in-between. For the sake of tonight's post, I'll limit myself to referring to Ed (The First) father of my child in order to avoid any confusion you may or more than likely don't have.
Now normally Ed and I get along just fine in an uneasy sort of agreement of truce which is usually conducted by having as little to do with each other as possible and only briefly when absolutely necessary. It turns out - after many years of sniping at each other - that we get along much better this way.
However from time to time, Ed forgets that I'm not the woman wearing his ring (thanks be to God) and gets a little carried away with conversations that usually start out in the red with "And this is how it's going to be..." (See photo of little dick-tator... Note sarcasm of spelling.)
This of course generally necessitates my responding in a less then amiable manner, in other words, more sarcasm...
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that hell had finally frozen over..."
I had no doubt in my mind whatsoever that tonight's conversation was going to take a turn for the worse when within 3 minutes of saying hello to her Father, my daughter handed me the phone in tears. Inwardly rolling my eyes, and punching the button to put my phone on speaker (NY State mandates hands free use of cell phones while driving... Do not mistake this as some sick and twisted desire to hear him in surround sound. Ugh.) I said hello - with as much enthusiasm as I could muster after a long day at the office. (Note: My well of enthusiasm was on water saving measures.)
Anyhoo... Where was I... Oh yes, I was driving. "I'm driving... I'll call you back in five." I said in the general direction of my phone before reaching over to click it back off. Looking over at my daughter, her face red with tears shed and un-shed, I gave her a gentle prod in a hey you've got to cheer up, it's not the end of the world, don't let him make you cry, you're still going to go to summer camp sort of way.
Meanwhile... Five minutes later at home, I eyeballed my phone, curled my lip like a miniature Elvis minus any hip shaking going on, and redialed Ed's number.
"I'd like to order a pizza... Skip the anchovies..."Alright... I didn't really start the conversation out like that, although now that I think of it, it would have been a good tension breaker. (Storing that idea for next time... And oh yes, there will be a next time.)
Blah, blah, yada, yada, blah... Twenty minutes later... We had all but worked things out, at least kind of sort of, in an enough for one night sort of way, I really don't want to talk to you anymore but we can finish this conversation tomorrow or Saturday or after we put the kid through college, yada blah...Now I know that wasn't the ending you were expecting, and to be honest that wasn't the ending I was planning to write, but it's 11:18 pm (two minutes away from my special time) and I've got to get myself to bed or else take the chance that I'll sleep through my alarm (like normal) tomorrow morning...
So here we go, this is where you - oh wonderful reader of mine (note my attempt to make you feel special) get to choose your own ending... Alright now... Choose away. (It's now my special time! Woo Hoo!)(a) Ed and I realize that we still love each other desperately even after all of these years apart, he breaks the news to his current wife and we ride off into the sunset to live happily (n)ever after...
(b) Ed admits he was being a jerk and I being the gracious sort of gal that I am accept his apology with great humility...
(c) This entire post was a figment of a bad dream and never really happened...
(d) I tell Ed what he thinks he wants to hear, coax a little bit of the truth in with a little bit of un-truth and make us all happy to the point where we can go back into let's just ignore each other again for as long as possible stage...
(e) A compilation of everything above minus the get back together ride off into the sunset, anything with great and gracious humility and nightmares that happen while awake thing.
You pick... You choose... I'm out.
Music and More
Okay... So I'm back to my original thought that music on a page doesn't always work when the post you wrote it for (or with) is no longer the most recent one you've posted... With this in mind, I've decided to insert the music player on a post to post basis with the option for turning it on OR keeping it off. For those of you still using dial up (MOM!) this should alleviate excessively long page loading times.
Feeling Green
Maybe it's exhaustion... Can't quite put my finger on it other than to say it feels as if I've been spinning around in circles and now that I've stopped it still feels as if I'm spinning...
Cold tiles on the bathroom floor are starting to sound like an ideal spot for sleep...
Sleep itself is sounding like the best idea of all.
Laughing Myself to Sleep
I'm really liking this sonific songspot thing...
So many good songs by artists I've never even heard of.
Now if there were only a way to be able to allow for a selection to be played, one right after the other, kind of like a one CD compilation sound track of my life...
This one is a bit kooky, but it reminded me of a few Ed's I know...
Goodnight & Goodbye
There's no spark... No attraction... Nothing that really makes me want to get to know him more... From three dates, the latest being tonight's, I've pretty much figured out that I'm just not interested in pursuing a relationship with Jason. And to be honest I don't think Jason is all too honest about wanting to pursue a relationship with me, or if he is, he's going about it in all the wrong way.
Truth of the matter is I'm intent on learning how to do this relationship thing in a whole new way; taking it slow by taking my time all to avoid the fast track disasters I'm much more familiar with. And while a kiss goodnight wouldn't have (after three dates) been a big deal in the least, I didn't appreciate the constant poking, tickling, hands not kept to themselves attempts to look down my shirt, up my shirt, and other shananigans that went on last night while we were (or rather, I was) trying to watch the movie. Because after three dates, "No... Your hand does not belong on my breast, before, after or during the movie..."
And I just don't have the time anymore to figure out a guy who doesn't try for the kiss goodnight, but spends the entire night trying to feel me up when I made it more than clear that, "Yes... You can give me a kiss goodnight, but that's as far as it goes, and no you're not staying."
Damn... Aren't there any normal, non fuck-wit guys left on this planet?
