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?

Fare Thee Well...

I was never a big fan of adding music to a page, always worried that somehow it might distract from the reading, but when I write, it's usually with some sort of music pouring into my ears to set the mood and tone of the words I type...

The song playing today is one of my all time favorites, although it should be said that I like Mary Chapin Carpenter's version far better than June's... However when it's free, you take what you can find.

I first heard this song a fews years ago in the movie Fly Away Home. It was one of those songs that just spoke to my heart instantly. It reached right in, wrapped itself around and set up residence like there was no question that it belonged.


It reminds me of good times. When I close my eyes I see the slow ripples left behind in the wake of an oar pushing against the water and the blue, blue mountains above the lake. And I see a family... A small girl standing next to her mother holding a fish up with her hands for the camera to view, happy with simple pride. A family and a camp fire, their faces flushed with an orange glow, laughing, telling stories, their hands sticky from the remnants of s'mores already eaten... Mom filling in a new entry of a camp journal to be left behind. Dad cooking breakfast in a cast iron frying pan on an ancient stove. Amy and I snuggled up in sleeping bags, playing checkers while it rained, feeding deer fallen apples in the yard...


They were simple times. They were the best of times. Precious memories that make me smile, precious memories that make me cry...

Life is all about these little moments. They are the pictures we take, the smiles we share, the days we spend together, the times we spend apart. Made of belonging, made of falling apart, made of love, taken away by time... Minutes, days, months, years, lifetimes...

Moments we may try to re-create but can't, new moments we make with the families we start, with the children we call our own... With new fish on the hook, with new beds in which to sleep, with new names for us to call and be called, with new smiles we hope to share... With the love that is and always will be a part of who we are, together and alone...

With the one true direction we have and will always know...

And I... I will always fly away home...

A Little On the Short Side

What is with all the movies about penquins lately? Are they making a come back or something? Or does someone in Hollywood just really love penquins?

I think there must be some sort of penquin phenomenen going around...

Anyhoo... My brain is toast after putting in 12 hours at the office today... It wasn't my idea of a good time, but at least I'm one day closer to the weekend... Well, that is if I didn't just remind myself that I'm being forced to work on Saturday! Damn inventory and my inability to count!

** Adendum ** So I was all prepared to find myself up and about going to work this morning when I got the news that I was no longer needed... Since I wasn't going to get paid for this little bit of OT, there will be no complaints here... **

Accident Prone

Paper cuts hurt... Razor like cuts that mimic the feel of a thousand paper cuts hurt even more...

It seems in my haste to install an air conditioner in my bedroom tonight, I made a bit of a boo boo and caught my hands on something seriously sharp... Now I'm sitting here wishing I had a box of band-aids and the strength to go into the kitchen and mix myself up a cold drink. I don't however have the wherewithal to even think about touching the blender tonight (bad things come in threes) so for now I'm blocking out the cries of the coconut rum beckoning from its top shelf perch.

On the bright side I'm about to call it a night and enjoy falling asleep in my new and improved freezer conditioned room. And like my Mom always says, it's better than a sharp stick in the eye.

Times They Are A Changing... Again

I so am not wanting to go to work today... Can't explain just why, but I'm dreading another day...

And my best work friend Rebukkah (or Becky as she's more commonly referred to as) has ruined my life by putting in her notice...

This completely sucks! And I can tell you one thing, she wasn't thinking about me when she decided to quit!

Sigh... She's the only one who truly gets me. The only one quicker than I with a comeback and the ability to finish the punch line when I start a joke... The only one who breaks out in song with me during random moments of ridiculous... The only one who tries to rough up fellow employees for no other reason at all other than to humor me... The only one who could have given notice and made me wish she wasn't going anywhere at all...

Rules For the Road

Why am I tired again?

Maybe it's this damn heat... It's so hot. Even with the air conditioners running, it's not nearly cool enough in here.

My mind is already fixated on this weekend... I have to work Saturday (unpaid) for our quarterly inventory and I'm not thrilled in the least. There's nothing I hate more than puttering around for goodness knows how many hours wasting my time when I'm not really needed there... It's not like they let me count anyway... Not that I want to count at all... I wonder if they're making Mike work? At least if he were around I'd have some cheap amusement... So Mike, Mr. Tired With the Lights On, are you going to be there?

As for the rest of my weekend, Jason has already asked me if I'll have some time free to spend with him... And I have to admit, mad points in his favor that he's (a) asking days before the weekend and (b) that his follow through seems to be following through... There's nothing - at least in my book - worse than someone assuming you're content to sit on the back burner and wait... So mad points for Jason because it's nice to know that he genuinely wants to see me.

And in the words of my temporary turtle icon of love, this girl's speed has been set to slow...

To Sleep, To Dream

My brain is far too muddled to make even the shortest sentence make sense tonight...

So I'm off to bed... Off to dream...

Maybe I Do Like Long Walks...

The answer was no. No he did not get a kiss last night and no he did not get a kiss this afternoon either... Now before that statement has anyone thinking I let him stay the night, let me clarify by saying that I said yes to a second date this afternoon... (Did I ever mention that once I decide to do something, I do jump in with both feet and start swimming?)

Today's date consisted of trekking about the back trails of my local town park, furthering our conversation from where we had left off last night. To be honest, it was kind of nice, this walking and talking thing we were doing. I guess in my bizarre little world, I never really knew what the whole dating thing could really be like. This whole concept of doing things that don't consist of racing into a bedroom first is new to me... Which is not to say I've employed that maneuver with a vast amount of men, but I have been known to make that mistake thinking I was taking the fast track to gaining someones affections only to learn that I'd succeeded in making myself feel like a fool instead...

Maybe I should have been on this turtle kick years ago. Then again I am a slow learner when it comes to matters of the heart.

I did however learn something important last night. I learned that I need to expect more and not less from any man I allow in my life and I need to speak up when something makes me uncomfortable like the whole hand on leg episode in the theater. And I'm glad I did, because all in all it was an enjoyable evening...

Perhaps my faith in men - as well as myself - is on its way to being restored.

Saturday Night Special

Okay so I'm home now and ready to dish all about tonight and the I can't believe it's not butter date...

It was in one word, a little nerve wracking, well initially anyway. And then I decided to just get on with it, and hide my nervousness with a serious dose of self-confidence that I didn't in the least little bit feel...

Which is how we found ourselves down at the beach at the old midway walking around aimlessly with absolutely no intention of getting on any of their antiquated rides. It was kind of strange, strolling around with a stranger, making small talk about this and that and nothing in particular... We ended our walk just along the shore, and watched the sun go down over the lake...

From there we decided to give the movies a go, and though he may not have appreciated the input, I directed him back towards home using every shortcut imaginable... (I figured it wouldn't hurt to test him early on with how well he'd take my directions... And I do have to admit he passed with flying colors.)

So it was off to the movies we went and YES, he paid for everything, from the tickets to the concession, and I have to admit that was definitely a move in his favor. A move not in his favor however was how many times he put his hand on my leg during the movie, or attempted to tickle me. Although he didn't believe me, I wasn't kidding when I told him that if he touched me again I was going to break his hands... Note to self boys, if I've only known you for less than 2 hours, don't think it's acceptable to start getting all touchy feely... So while he watched the movie (Room 1408)I watched his hands and made sure he kept them to himself.

After the movie however, I was starting to get a little freaked out that he would expect some big old kiss upon taking me back to my car and I wasn't quite sure how I wanted to handle that... Instead the turtle mantra kept running itself around in my head screaming at me to pay attention. And there's nothing like picturing little turtles waving picket signs walking about on their hind legs to keep you from puckering up your lips.

But really, I know I'm not doing justice to this story right now considering all I haven't even mentioned which I should mention because it is noteworthy, but I am so tired and all I can think about at this exact second is sleep... So forgive me... I'll be back to quick edit all of this tomorrow...

Damn, damn, damn...

Fuck! (Excuse my lack of french) I have a date tomorrow night...

Year of the Turtle Takes a Downward Spiral

Asinine is standing in your kitchen whining to yourself that you don't want to call a boy and then getting on your computer to blog about not having done it yet...

Okay, okay... I'm calling...

Wah!

* Addendum...

F'ing voicemail! Shite!

Yes, No, Maybe So

Okay... So here it is, right or wrong...

Yes... I hope he decides to call back and finish the conversation we started last night.

No... This doesn't mean I'm going to put my life on hold either way... Like I said earlier, it's time to move in a forward direction.

Yes... I still have good feelings about him... I know he's trying to change his circumstances and the best motivator he has to make those changes is himself. I hope he makes those changes because it's what he wants to do.

No... That doesn't mean I won't explore my feelings for someone else should I find myself interested in one of my future dates... And yes, I am going on a date later on this weekend. (And please God, let him be normal and not a psychopath...)

Yes... I know there's plenty of people out there who don't want me to have anything to do with him anymore, one of which includes my daughter who was upset last night when she realized who I was talking with on the phone.

No... I wasn't impressed with KC's antics to distract me, or eavesdrop on the conversation... But yes, I understood that she (as children are prone to do when they reach an age of mildly understanding human relationships) was honing in on her own protection instincts.

Yes... I did sit down with KC and explain that although my conversation wasn't any of her business and her behavior was both downright rude and unacceptable, I could understand why she had that reaction. I also assured her that as an adult, that it's my job to make good and responsible decisions for the both of us.

No... I haven't yet finalized all my plans for this weekend... But yes, I'm about to pick up my phone and do that in just a few minutes.

Yes... I did get lost once today (and I have to add this in here, because to know me is to know that I have absolutely no sense of direction) but found my way despite my friend Paul's horrid directions. And since it was a favor between my job and his that brought me there in the first place, he should be damn thankful I didn't smack him over the head for making the directions much more complicated than they had to be... The nerve!

No... I've got nothing left to blog about.

Yes... I have to get off the computer, pick the house up a bit, (figuratively, not literally) figure out my schedule for tomorrow, (which includes a quick trip to Glens Falls) call date number one to set up a place and time, and yes this will be in public and I will be driving my own car, and he can forget about anything more than a handshake in the end... Well, unless he's really cute and then maybe at least a kiss. But after that, it's completely hands free...

Because if I can only remember one thing, and one damn thing only, it's this...

TURTLE!

As in as slow as...

Unbalanced

I wasn't expecting his phone call. And I don't know how to process the conversation I just had, well sort of had, and didn't have and may still have... I'm confused. And I really don't want to be confused anymore. And now I've ignored the call I should have taken to talk to him. And I am such a fool, fool, fool...

And what's getting to me is wondering if he's going to call me back... And why I want him to.

-------

So that was how I left things last night. The conversation stopping as suddenly as it had started and me feeling like a train had just hit me in the middle of my living room. I called Brenda to find my equlibrium, explaining both the lows and highs of the the entire conversation the best I could (struggling to understand it myself) and decided by the time that I hung up that I wouldn't allow myself to sleep with the thought of Glenn on my mind.

One way or another, it's time to move forward.

Date or No Date

So I may have a date... I don't know yet as I haven't really made up my mind. I had thought earlier that my answer was going to be a straight up no but now I'm wondering if I may have jumped the gun on that...

The date however is not with my ex-neighbor Bob though I wish it were. And I suppose since that's the general feeling I'm having, that I'd rather this date be with someone else, maybe I should save us both the trouble and not go, although come to think of it I tried that and received an email in protest of that idea.

I'm beginning to think I'm not ready for this whole dating thing again... Or maybe I should just consider this a practice run...

Argh. I'm stressing and I hate to be stressed.

In a Neighborly Way

Two years ago when I still lived in my lovely little townhouse out in the country, I had a wonderful neighbor named Bob. He was a quiet sort of guy, smart and funny with small town good looks and a winning smile. He was the kind of guy you just knew was the real deal. He didn't smoke, he rarely drank, he went to church and he always lent a hand when a hand was needed, from digging out my car in the wintertime to playing cat's cradle with KC on our front porch for no other reason than to be kind.

And summer nights, nights when you left the windows open to let the cool air in, you could hear him playing his guitar, his voice hesitant on the notes but singing along anyway. I used to joke that Bob and I were practically sleeping together, sharing opposite sites of the same bedroom wall. And secretly, at least I hoped it was secret at that point, I had quite the little crush on him.

The more I got to know him the more I knew that he was the right kind of guy... Seeing me upset one night, close to tears and heading for my car, he didn't hesitate for even one second to see if there was anything he could do to help. I remember him standing there looking directly into my eyes and asking me if everything was okay, and I knew as I still know now, that had I broken down and told him the truth of everything that was wrong, he would have sat me down and sorted out a solution with me. Instead I did the stupid prideful thing and told him I was okay, leaving him behind in our driveway as I drove away.

And when it became common knowledge that after close to ten years, I was taking the plunge and moving out, it wasn't just my neighbor Sheila who tried to talk sense into me about leaving.

So tonight, when I saw his profile online with a local dating site, yeah, I couldn't help but wonder what if? What if the guy for me was as close as the other side of a wall the entire time? And what's stopping me from finding out? After all, it couldn't hurt just to stop by and say hello...

The Storm Outside and In

I'm too tired tonight to give this a go... And when I'm tired, the theme always seems to revert back to I'm sad, wishing I could talk to someone in particular and knowing that it's beyond time to let things go... Disconnect with love... That's something I read in one of my latest borrowed books from the library... And it's time I learned how to truly unplug because it's what I need to do...

Maybe it's corny to read a book like this. A book that simplifies the human mind into a science of why we're wired the way we are, but some (okay, most) of what I've read is hitting home. Now I'm beginning to see the footprints in the sand, how the behaviors I learned as a young girl have amplified themselves in the woman I've become... And it's beyond time to clear my mindset once and for all of the little matchstick girl, cold on the outside looking inside trying to get warm...

Saving Grace

I've really got nothing at all tonight even with having a lot on my mind. Random thoughts have a way of weeding their way through my consciousness whether I want them to be there or not, and I am without a weed wacker to mow them all down.

This is not a night for me to be listening to Tori. Certain songs only set the stage for these thoughts to grow and I find myself walking in circles trying to get back to a beginning I can't name. It's like the more I know I can't change something, the more I try to figure out what it is that I've done wrong. Because in my line of thinking I'm always the only one to blame. And that's a crock of shit to think it belongs settled on my shoulders. I am not responsible for any one's behavior but my own. I know this. And yet still I need to be convinced...

It's pointless however to put your life on hold waiting for a sorry that will not come, waiting for someone to step up to the plate and own up to doing wrong. You can hold your breath but you can't stop breathing... It wouldn't make any sense to hold on to something that never was, that never will be... Why keep spinning in circles when the result always ends with your bottom in the barrel? You have to decide when it's worth the effort and when the effort you make isn't worth your time...

That doesn't mean that you invalidate the truth of what you felt when your heart was in complete control. Love is a gift whether it's given or gained, accepted or declined. That doesn't mean you have to hate the person who broke your heart or continue to be his best friend. Sometimes distance and silence are the saving grace to moving on. Do not hold yourself back for fear of leaving, do not stay still for fear of moving forward, do not wait for fear he won't return but go without hesitation or regret...

"Brush back my tears and he said Girl, we have to soldier on. Yes girl, even when we don't feel strong..."
- Dark Side of the Sun - Tori Amos, American Doll Posse 2007

Much too tuckered out for anything thought provoking...

Off to bed...

Happy Father's Day to every Dad, everywhere...

Eyes Wide Open

Nobody got any sleep last night despite a valiant effort on my part to keep the noise level down to a dull roar. Every time I thought I was just about to slip over the edge into the oblivion that is sleep, whispered voices and fast moving feet had me sitting up straight as a post, to yell ( because at some point your patience loses out) "To bed. Now!"

Continually I wonder why I allow myself to be tortured in such a way, after all a gaggle of girls giggling into the wee hours of the night isn't anywhere close to my idea of fun. But I guess that what I'm really doing is thinking of the future... With the teen years just around the corner, I'd rather be the Mom who has a house full than the Mom who doesn't know where and with who her daughter is hanging out with. I call it laying the foundation without KC knowing it's there, kind of like taking her to church every Sunday, and knowing that even though she's not listening as close as I'd like her to be, through the power of osmosis she's hearing it all the same.

Chaos & Mayhem

We're in the middle of a sleepover... Not that anyone is sleeping. And somehow... Somehow I got suckered into not just one, but two girls staying over. Right now the girls are in the living room watching "She's The Man" while I try to ignore that the TV is so darn loud that I've probably gone deaf in at least one of my ears by now.

On another note, I've been a busy little creature with big plans on taking back this blog. One of which includes a custom made logo with a whole blog face makeover to follow... And I have to tell you, I am completely geeked up over the whole thing... I mean come on now, it's only taken me four years to finally stop talking about wanting to do it and actually getting close to getting it all done... Talk about accomplishment! (Procrastination be damned!)

Anyhoo, the children are starting to become a bit too rowdy which means Mom mode is about to be activated. Time to bust up the fun and get to the serious business of sleeping...

To Borrow a Title: Co-Dependent No More

So... Dating.

I've decided that of all the words in the English language this one represents to me one of the most scariest and awful words of all... The whole concept of dating is horrible. You talk, you meet, you maybe like each other, you maybe don't, you have to go through your whole tortured history of I got this scar when I was three, I have this many sisters, and this many parents and oh yeah, I hate vegetables and love foreign films. And after all of that sharing of getting to know you, getting to know me, I always wind up with the same exact outcome. Nursing a broken heart wondering where I went wrong...

But this time I think I've got it figured out, and really by now I think that's got to be some sort of prerequisite for me before I even think about going anywhere with anyone anytime soon because to be frank, and hey, we're all friends here and I'm just being honest, I've got lousy taste in men. Show me the commitment-phobe, show me the guy who says he will but won't call, show me the guy who thinks friends with benefits is the best idea around, show me the guy who shouldn't be calling me at all and it's like I raise my hand and say, "Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!"

Well, I'm not doing that anymore. It's come down to two things, either I learn my darn lesson once and for all by taking things slow and not seeing anyone exclusively until I've reason to believe that a certain someone is truly the one for me, or I go it alone from here on out... Because quite frankly, I don't handle rejection all that well, and once attached to someone, I have a hard time learning how to let them go regardless of how much of a front I put up that I'm completely over it... And to be brutally honest, I'm never really quite over any of it... Least of all when my heart was all but picking out the wedding favors.

So no more of that. I'm going to date, I'm going to meet lots of different men, and I'm going to be as slow as a gosh darn turtle while doing it. And I'm going to have my own set of rules by which I'll follow...

Can you take me to the movies? Absolutely.
Can you take me out to dinner? Any night you want.
Can you meet me out for coffee? Sure thing.
Can you talk to me on the phone? Yes, but for no more than an hour and certainly not all night.
Can you meet my kid? Not a chance of that happening anytime soon.
Can you come over to my place? Only long enough to walk me to my door before you leave.
Can you meet my family? Ummm, I've only known you for five minutes...

Listen a woman of my age has got to have a sense of humor about all of this now, I mean seriously, I've pretty much got the basics down of how to fuck a relationship up from the start that trying it a new way certainly can't cause me any more harm... So here's to it.

Date number one...

Watered Down

It's going to be past my bedtime by the time I finish this post... And it's not like I have anything really important to say today because quite frankly I don't, but because I'm trying to keep myself back in business by forcing myself to write again each and every day regardless of the fact that I'm half asleep at the wheel...
Perhaps (dim light bulb moment) I need coffee...

Which actually is not a very good idea, especially if I ever want to sleep again... It's bad enough that I've resorted to bringing in a full thermos of coffee to work every morning to keep my caffeine fix on tap all day without brewing even more before bedtime. But the whole thermos thing was a matter of evolution for me, or rather I did it for two reasons, the first being that is was getting downright expensive to saddle up to Dunkin Doughnuts every morning for a two dollar and six cent blueberry coffee - light and sweet, as they say in the coffee world, and two because I'm consistently running minutes behind and on those mornings where the choice was get to work on time or get coffee, it turned out that my co-workers would have preferred me to be late than to be a bitch all day... Maybe if they had said something sooner... Anyhoo.

On a non coffee related note although it should be said nothing can wake me up faster than a creepy crawly (and no I'm not talking about any of the ex-men/boys I've dated) in the shower... Not that I've had all that many dates in the shower... Except for that one which I'm not going to mention because my MOM reads this blog...

Anyhoo back to the creepy crawly thing which by way of guessing as I really wasn't all that geeked up over discovering the true genus species name of the whatever that icky thing was that I was forced to kill in defense of my home/honor/take your pick of a vast array of reasons, in the shower this morning, I nearly caused myself even more trauma when I forgot to remember that I get sick at the sight of squished bugs... Talk about having to hold back on tossing my cookies... Whatever made me squash him and then take a look at the end product most definitely must have been a momentary lack of reason on my part... In fact, I'm getting a little queasy just thinking about it again...

New subject...

Oh yes, nothing interesting happened today. So on that happy little side note I am to bed before the clock strikes one...

Home in the Clouds

It's getting to be a bad habit, this staying up late to post a blog thing that I've been doing lately... And even though I'm a true night owl, it's not so easy on the early morning end when my alarm is sounding the bells and whistles to wake me up... A process I like to call, see how many times we can snooze it, or just completely shut it off before we get to work really late... So far my record is holding at about twenty minutes, though I'm sure there will come a day when that will be replaced...

Anyhoo... Much joy today. I found Orbling... (It should be mentioned here that technically, he wasn't lost.)And though he's been wandering around clouds aimlessly for far too long, I'm happy to say he's been pulled back to earth where all must certainly be going well... And if you don't understand anything of what I've just said, you need only know this... In a world where friends come and go, it's always much better when the lost are found and the found decide to stay... That said by the girl who much prefers beginnings to endings when given a choice...

But seriously, I really must get some sleep... It's been a crazy night with letting KC have a sleepover - and on a school night no less, playing Scrabble with a pair of word maker-uppers, though I think I may have just done that myself, and finishing the night off with one of my all time favorite movies, Fly Away Home... Sigh. If you haven't seen it, watch it... You'll cry. I know I always do...

Alright, alright, alright... I need sleep before the drool shorts out my keyboard... Goodnight all. And goodnight moon...

You said what?

In the however many years I've been at my job, there are certain things I've learned not to ask, and better yet certain things I've learned not to say... Because in my line of work, there are things that can be taken out of context without hardly even trying...

Take my conversation today with my buddy Paul. He calls up, places his order with me in his usual attempt to stump Stacey fashion which has never once worked in the seven years I've known him, moves on to some deranged topic about God knows what, and then comes out with this... "So is it better to be nailed or screwed?"

And seriously what was I supposed to do, not laugh?

And so I did. I laughed for a good minute before Paul finally made enough noise on the other end of the line to remind me he was still there.

"I guess I don't need to ask if you took that the wrong way," he said, knowing perfectly well I had.

"Who me? Never... Not in a million years." I answered. "Although if you really want to know..."

What is a blog without a mission statement?

I miss your comments. Miss old friends who used to wander by and leave their names with comments of their own to share. I miss the reaching out, the grabbing on, the pulling in. Miss hearing different opinions from every corner of the world. Miss those I got to know well, and those who were simply passing through on their way to somewhere else. I miss them all. Each and every one and wonder, where are they now? How are they now?

I feel as if I own them an apology for running away. One moment I was here and the very next I was gone, missing in a wordless void and an empty page. I gave my gentle readers nothing to come back to. No promise that I'd ever make it back myself ,and slowly - one by one, I lost them all.

But here I am, not quite the way it used to be, and yet trying to reclaim my place here on this page. Hoping that this time I am wiser than I was, that I can share with you what I've learned, that I can speak of the things I've lost, that everything I believe inside my heart still belongs - as I do - on this page without censure, without shame, without fear...

That is my mission statement... This is my mission. This is my life...

Welcome.

Selected Silence

She spent the day alone, waking late in the morning, taking her time to get out of bed. She'd gone to bed late, fell asleep with a book in her hand and a light on overhead, both cats curled up close beside her with nothing more than a light chenille throw to keep her warm. She spent the night in dreams, dreams of planes and places, people she wanted desperately to see, people she wished she'd never see again, feeling even in dreams that her lot in life was to fight for every little thing she wanted.

She puttered around the house, picking things up here and there, the trail of KC's progress through a succession of rooms like crumbs to follow. Her daughter - like she had been herself, was like a summer storm, quickly wreaking havoc on the order of a room, while her own room threatened to spill out into the rest of the house in its quest to take over more space. She smiled at the thought as she put a load of laundry in the machine, humming to herself as she tidied up the kitchen with grand thoughts of what she should do with the day.

But the answer was that she really wanted to do nothing at all. She'd been so busy lately, running here and there, letting KC have a gaggle of girls over the weekend past, that all she really wanted was one lazy day. One day to do exactly what she wanted, even if what she wanted most was nothing at all. For a while she opted for her chair in the reading room, finishing the book she'd started the night before in-between putting in another load of wash, hanging the clothes from the previous one, putting art supplies away that had been left on the desk the night before, and taking a long hot shower that quickly went from hot to cold when the neighbor's downstairs decided to take a shower at the very same time...

The remainder of the day she spent somewhat lonely, wanting to pick up the phone and call someone, but then not really in the mood for conversation at all. She simply didn't have the energy to deal with anyone other than herself today despite how selfish that might sound. She simply wanted a different sort of quiet. The sort of quiet you can only get when you tune the outside world out.

Gone to the Dogs

When you live in an apartment, there are certain unspoken rules by which you live. Codes of common courtesy you extend automatically without having to be told up front that some things are just plain unacceptable. It's for this very reason that I choose not to run my washer or my dryer anytime after eight at night or before nine in the morning. And why I'm always telling KC to turn the TV down or to not clomp her way across the floor as if she is in a small herd of elephants on the way to the watering hole. I keep my space neat and clean, I park my car only in the spot I've been assigned, and my animals certainly don't cause any disruption whatsoever.

Unfortunately not everyone is as neighborly as I think they should be. Take for instance the guy who continually parks and allows his company to park in my assigned spot, and has even on more than one occasion blocked my car in with his own because it never occurred to him that I might have a need to go somewhere. This is also the same man who argues so loudly with his girlfriend - usually in the hallway outside their apartment - that I feel they might ask me to take sides at any moment to settle their debate as it's obvious I can hear each and every word. This fine gentleman is also the proud owner of dog # 1, creatively named D-O-G ( my, how clever) or as I've recently dubbed him Dog Shits A Lot, because boy blunder in the studio apartment doesn't quite have a handle of the whole poop and scoop method of taking care of his dog's waste. I've recently come to the conclusion that there is nothing worse then the smell of hot shit sitting in the sun.

But you can't fault the dog, or can you? Dog # 2 - the beagle breed downstairs in the apartment directly below mine suffers cruelly from separation anxiety and if his owners were ever home, they might be able to figure out that what their dog needs most is drugs... More than once I've considered taping a note on their door with just that suggestion:

Dear People With the Dog Who NEVER Stops Barking When You're Not Home...

Stay home, move or get your pet on drugs! Your dog has been howling for the past four hours. He doesn't stop. He's lonely. And he's getting on my nerves. He's cute, but seriously, the cuteness factor dropped down to nil just about the time I realized that he wasn't going to stop barking until you get home. If you're morally opposed to drugging your dog, consider a trade in... Give muttsy to someone who actually knows how
to care for a dog (somewhere that has open fields and fresh air) and get a hamster, a fish or a pet rock. If
I were you, I'd start with the rock and twelve step my way to a fish before moving on to the hamster...

Don't make me call the landlord!

The Neighbor Who Wishes You All Wouldn't Keep Putting Her In the Position to Be the BITCH And Is About to Go to Bed With a Pillow Over Her Head to Drown Out the Sounds of Your Dog

Recent Snapshots

Early morning walk in the woods... It seems I wasn't the only one who wanted a good spot to watch the sunrise...This picture didn't quite turn out like I wanted it to... What I really wanted was to take this picture a little bit farther down the creek where the really big boulders were... Unfortunately I wasn't blessed with enough time this day as I hadn't intended to go to camp at all... I just sort of wound up there... (Good news is I didn't fall in the creek, although I did manage to almost fall down a mountain.)

My frog looks a little bit beside himself, nonetheless I can't fault him for it...

Life Lines

Sometimes my mind gets clogged up with so many different things that I'm not quite sure where to start or whether or not I'm required to start at all. It's quite like being at a press conference where I'm at the podium waiting to answer and in the audience waiting to be called on to ask my question. Tonight I'm just sort of lost. Wondering about lots of little things, some that matter, some that don't, some that are simply afterthoughts of the day gone by. The biggest question of the moment is in two parts, the first being when will I allow myself the luxury of sleep and the second what is it that needs telling at this point in time.

To say that I think in pictures is to say that what I really do is think in words. Not a moment goes by that I don't somehow play a story line in my head, trying to figure out the ending before I've quite got a handle on the beginning. I'm always rushing things, forgetting to savor the moments when I should and then forgetting the small details when I meant to remember. Sometimes I write down things I want to think about later. A little reminder to myself that I had a thought that needs to be thought about some more. And then I think that the possibility is quite good that I allow myself to do too much thinking.

I think right now one of my main thoughts has been the relation of self to others. The perception of how we relate to the world and how that world relates to us. And how random life can be with its twists and turns. How fast someone can swoop into our lives and how in the space of a single heartbeat they can be gone again as if they never really were. And how these random occurrences change us, like intersections of outside forces which when viewed like a map show us the topography of how we exist and came to be. Every brief meeting, every intense love affair, even the people we've only passed on the street, all of them count. Count in ways we may never be able to prove, but count just the same like energy that passes from one object to another. How could we ever think that any interaction with anyone at all would cease to matter?

Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe I'm talking about things I don't quite understand, but I think after so many years I understand something about human nature. We all just want to belong, to find our niche, that one place where it's exactly right for us to be. We seek out similar souls, people to share this journey with us, to make us laugh, to make us smile, to hold our hands when we need strength, to brush away out tears when our eyes are wet from crying. Like Barb sings we're all just people who need people.

And I need lots of people. People to remind me that the lesson we learn here on earth isn't something you can read in the find what you love to do and the money will come later section of the bookstore but in the power we have to make a positive difference to someone who simply needs to know that they have a place. They belong. They matter.

House & Soul

I walk around my house at night comfortable with the darkness, knowing it's path so well I have no need to turn on any lights. I know each room like a still picture inside my head, know precisely where everything is in every room from the desk pressed against the wall here, a lamp on a table there, to the cats curled up asleep on the chair they wouldn't dare to be caught on during the daylight hours. This is the comfort of home. This knowing of a space that over time becomes an extension of yourself, as much a part of you as your heart and your hands. This is the thought I've been grappling with, trying to find the right words to explain this feeling I've had over being part of and witnessing the separation of house and soul.

I wonder on that last night my Grandmother spent sleeping in my Uncle's old room in her tiny little house tucked back safely from the road, if she really understood that it was to be her last night sleeping there. I wonder if she (like me) would have stayed awake just to listen once more to all those familiar sounds, those nighttime sounds she's heard for well over the past 30 something years like her own personal lullaby... I think she knew but didn't want to know, probably crying herself to sleep in the darkness that night preparing herself for the morning ahead when she would wake and attempt to not show fear.

I admire her courage to let it go. To trust in her grown children to have her best interest at heart. To walk out that morning for the last time and face the day with strength and pride when what I'm sure she really wanted to do was stage a protest, sit in her favorite rocker and never leave. She may have even handled it far better than my Mother or myself who could barely contain our tears and even our tempers when the strain of everything began to be too much. She only cried once that I'm aware of as I was driving her to her new home at the assisted living community, my Uncle and my Mother following in a separate car. She took my hand and held it tight, looking at me with tears in her eyes as if she was a lost child and I was her only connection to the world. "I'll go," she said. "Because it's what they want me to do." And then she made me promise not to tell anyone that she'd been crying. A promise I only agreed to once she promised not to tell anyone that I had too.

I don't expect my Grams will stop missing her home anytime soon. I don't expect that her new "home" will ever quite compare. But what I hope is that she will come to like it enough that all her memories of home will bring comfort and joy.

Reading & Realization

"She's just a normal girl," she says.
"What does normal mean?"
Sonia shrugs. "You know. She's not that quirky. She likes mainstream movies. Romance. Action-adventure. She's not into inner turmoil. She's one of the most practical people I've ever met. It's like, life is a job. She's a realist."
For some reason I feel slightly affronted. I say, "I'm a realist."
Sonia laughs. "You're not a realist," she says. "You're a dreamer who doesn't believe in the dream."

- the Myth of You & Me
a novel by Leah Stewart

I used to think I was a realist. Now I know I'm like the character in this book, I'm the dreamer who stopped believing in the dream. Perhaps it's time to remember how to begin again...

Flight Risk

These past few months have gone past like a blur. Highs and lows. Lows and highs. Trying to find some semblance of a middle ground between two worlds trying to co-exist at the same time. I just keep getting this feeling that where I am right now is merely a holding point - a juxtaposition of sorts - pointing out the obvious of where I do and don't belong. Wondering as I am prone to do what the difference is between running away and running to and whether it really matters much at all if the end result produces what I really need, someplace new to begin.

The last time I felt this way - this restless urge to leave without looking behind - KC was four months old and I was reeling from the responsibility of it all, and the reality of having to do it all on my own. The truth was that what I wanted most at that time was to run South as fast as my feet could carry me to the comfort and the relative safety of my Mother. Because it seems that no matter how old I get, being around my Mom is like a respite for the weary and I am quick to shrug the grown up from my shoulders and give my inner child a few spare moments on the outside.

But somehow this time something feels different. Perhaps this time, it's not so much a reaction to negative forces around me but more so an honest reaction from my heart that feels more at home someplace else than I've ever truly felt here. Or maybe it's because I've spent so much time there these past few months, almost every other weekend for the last two, that I've created this home away from home. But I know - with a certainty that I've never had before that this feeling is as real as real can get.

But a grown woman has anchors. A child that doesn't want to move. A job that wouldn't relocate. A best friend who would be too far away for comfort. And the fear of turning my world upside down when I've only just settled into it after an exhausting year of domestic torture I only barely made it through. And yet... I can't rid myself of the familiarity of a different set of streets, the view of mountains rising tall against a summer sky, the smell of pine that lingers like molasses on the air, and the feeling each and every time I go back that what I've really done is come back home.

A Welcome Change of Pace

Good things...

KC and I went for a walk last night along one of the trails of our local park and despite a minimal amount of whining (on her part, not mine) we had ourselves a bonafide Mommy and daughter bonding moment.

The sun is SHINING! And it's WARM!

I painted my entire house - from top to bottom - in two weeks time and FINALLY it feels like HOME!

My new chair for my reading room was delivered Wednesday and it is SO COMFY!

I went on a camp retreat with my church last weekend and despite the manual labor part had fun...

Guitars and campfires go awful nice together...

I found a roll of film, had it developed and got some great shots despite the roll being over two years old.

I have great friends!

My new washer/dryer are finally getting hooked up! No more laundromat!

Tori released a new CD... I've already listened to it more times than I can count.

I feel like SMILING!

I'm laughing more and being miserable less! (Always a good thing!)

I love my Mom! (Statistics show she loves me back!)

My daughter thinks I'm a dork and occassionaly (okay, more often than not) I am!

Love is nothing to regret even if you don't end up together in the end.

I'm getting over my fear of walking down the street.

I have a backbone!

Puppies are cute... Cats are cuter!

My daughter is growing up and she's beautiful.

I have a new found respect for antiques.

My youngest sister is graduating from college.

Life without internet service available (24/7) is not so bad at all.

I work with idiots! And there are days I feel like I'm a cast member of some sitcom.

I never feel like Newman. Norm, maybe...

Blueberry coffee always perks me up.

Sometimes you need to slow down and realize you have everything you really need.

Do something nice today. Maybe you'll brighten the day of someone who could really use a double dose of happiness.

Be kind! Considerate! At peace! In love! Humorous! Helpful! Hopeful!

And if you can't do anything else... Just smile. I know I am...

Poetic License

The Embrace

She taught him the gods. Was it teaching? He went on

hating them, but in the long evenings of obsessive talk,

as he listened, they became real. Not that they changed.

They never came to seem innately human.

In the firelight, he watched her face.

But she would not be touched; she had rejected

the original need. Then in the darkness he would lead her

back –

above the trees, the city rose in a kind of splendor

as all that is wild comes to the surface.

Louise Gluck

The Triumph Of Achilles (1985)

Perhaps this is a sort of cheating; to read one poem for the thought and then transfer it over into your own words and interpretation. But isn't that what creativity is all about? Taking an idea and making it your own? Either way it was a good exercise to get some writing done when I haven't been doing very much of it at all…

Disconnect

She knows her limits;

sees them clearly.

Understands immediately

the things she can and cannot have.

She who can touch and reach

and see beyond the concrete wall to what exists;

to what is real.

She remembers looking into his eyes –

blue ice fringed with lashes like shutters,

an effort to keep his heart disconnected from his mind.

Allowing him to

- touch -

without being touched,

leaving only her to burn with the emptiness of his goodbye.

She knows her limits;

sees them more clearly now.

Understands how to separate herself from herself,

to act on instinct alone.

Pulling herself apart at will,

disconnecting emotions from needs to satisfy the wants of her hunger.

Creating her own distance like she keeps her own

counsel...

She knows him unlike anyone else who has known him,

knows him from the inside out.

Things he wouldn't normally say,

thoughts he wouldn't dream to speak.

He has told her these things, perhaps she thinks for absolution.

To resolve some regret he believes she can wipe clean from his soul,

using her up like a one time confession,

dirtying her with the stains of his sins until he needs her no more...

She who would have once believed that he was someone worth saving

believes only in his power to break her.

To be one more name -

on a long list of names - of those who have made promises they could not keep…

She leaves before he knows she's gone.

In a note that says no more that what she needs to say…

No response required,

Burning him this time with the simple etching of her name.

(Happier things from here on out... I promise. We could all use some good thoughts...)

One of the Good Ones

Now you and I both know that I don't normally post things that have been forwarded to death via email but I'm going to do it despite myself because it does sort of/kind of make a lot of good sense. And dang it all, I'm a good apple!

Women

are like apples on

trees. The best ones

are at the top of the tree.

Most men don't want to reach

for the good ones because they are

afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead,

they sometimes take the apples from the

ground that aren't as good, but easy. The

apples at the top think something is wrong

with them, when in reality, they're amazing

They just have to wait for the right man

to come along, the one who is brave

enough to climb all the way

to the

top

of the

tree.

And stay there.

Okay, so I added the stay there part. Because love 'em and leave 'em men are far more disappointing than men who never reached at all… And because this is my damn blog and I can do whatever I want to. And because I said so, and we all know how that works.

Back Pocket Logic

How do you avoid the unavoidable?

Sooner or later it happens to the best of us. We come across a person or a group of people who for one reason or another instill in us a grand desire to get as far and as fast away from them as possible. Most of the time we luck out, coming in just low enough under the radar that we're virtually spotless and untraceable. But there are times when you can't avoid being spotted, like a deer standing alone in a barren field of winter unable to find a tree to hide behind; times when you can't help but be out in the open when like that deer, you and your fawn are just trying to live your lives...

My solution – or rather my so-called plan of action is to be extreme. To do not what is expected of me but to do the least likely thing someone would think I'd do. And while I'm not saying I'd start screaming fire in the middle of a crowded room, I wouldn't be at all averse to causing one hell of a scene if I felt it were in my best interest to do so.

Considering how much thought I've put into thinking about how I'd handle a sticky situation should be more than enough to prove my point that not even public humiliation – for both myself and someone else – would be the least bit of a deterrent should I deem it necessary to do whatever it takes to be left alone. After all a woman who knows where the obvious chinks in her armor lie, also knows best how to notch her bow with assets she has readily on hand.

So the question remains… How do you avoid the unavoidable?

You don't...

Captured Rainbows

Ambitious is just another word for stupidity in my book. Stupidity being defined as getting this sudden urge to paint my dining room early yesterday afternoon only to find myself running back to the paint store a few hours later to buy yet another gallon of paint in order to tackle the kitchen walls as well. And sore is how I feel this morning from my shoulders all the way down to my paint speckled toes while my ass is seriously contemplating lodging a formal complaint against God knows who, convinced that it should be much smaller than it currently is due to yesterday's unplanned buns of steel workout. However my right shoulder probably has first dibs on the lawsuit due to the dislocation – or at least believing it's been dislocated. And as far as I'm concerned that's more than enough to run with, or at present time stumble along with as I whine.

On the positive end of the spectrum, my kitchen/dining room is looking absolutely fantabulous and when I get home, I'm going to pull up a chair and simply stare at the wall for a good six hours to admire my handiwork. It's that damn pretty and it matches my pottery to boot which makes it that much better than any other paint I could have splashed upon my walls. But my painting days are far from over. Tonight will see me once more with paint brush in hand right along with roll after roll of blue painters tape as I work on the finishing details in KC's room which was also painted this weekend. Because I can, and because I feel like upping the notch on the difficulty level, I will be adding vertical stripes to the knee wall on one side of her room to finish off the "I watch way too much HGTV look" that I've going for. Perhaps I just have way too much time on my hands…

In other news, my Mom will be in town this weekend which is always a good thing as I am a Mama's girl at heart and don't get to spend nearly enough time with her considering she lives in North Carolina. Added bonus to this visit is she will be arriving bearing gifts, one of which will include an antique writing desk for my fireplace/reading/writing room that I've been slowly making over since January. Who knows, maybe the next great American novel will be written on that very desk… Doubtful. But possible…

Silly Goose

The oddest thoughts always occur to me when driving. Like this morning for instance, I was listening to classical music – because sometimes it's absolutely necessary to have a hip hop free ride to work – when I noticed flock after flock of Canadian geese on their return trip home. And I was staring at the sky while driving – which proves my theory that I suffer from attention deficit disorder only when to do so might prove hazardous to my health – when I began to wonder about the lead goose in the V-formation. Questions like what does one have to do to become the lead goose? How does one keep lead goose status? Can one ever retire from being the lead goose? And how much stress must it be for the lead goose to be responsible for keeping everyone in line and on the right course? And if a lead goose is to us as a pilot would be, does that mean that other geese farther down the line act like flight attendants seeing to the needs of others during this whole business of migration?

If there are any experts in the Canadian goose field, I welcome your comments. Or any comment for that matter.

Where did you all go?

Regurgitation

I am surrounded by the things I cannot see, vulnerable to these things I do not know, shamed by this new position of weakness; a supplicant at your feet ready to do your bidding should you call and deem me worthy of response.

And I wait.

Wait until I grow weary from the waiting, wait until I feel the knife cutting softly at my throat, this slow death you have subjected me to. You have done me no kindness letting your ghost linger with me this long just to tease me with what I cannot have…

I never imagined you to be so cruel, so without a heart that you would continue to hold mine hostage. A girl like me should be able to go on without a heart, should be able to live with intangible things; should not waste her time to think, to speak, to write out the ridiculous and leave it here, a backwards message forwarding itself through time.

Do you not hear me asking something from you? Do you not know these questions, this anger, these tears; my frustration is all directed pointedly at you? Did you believe these words to be random, these sentences just vertical lines on a page? Did you fail to recognize how carefully they have all been chosen?

They are here at my whim, but they appeal to your mercy that your silence so far has not sufficed, you who speak to me in riddles and expect me to fully understand your rhymes. You who speak to me in silence, in conversations that play themselves like a record repeating itself note for note, that do not match the man you have decided to become. That man isn't worthy of my regard or my regret though I miss the man who I regret I've lost.

I have gone on too long about this. I had thought myself finished on this subject; on things I couldn't change. But I find it hard to put this down, to walk away and leave all of this as unfinished as it is. You have changed me from woman to beggar with palms held up open in the air. You have taken the key to my defense and left me unlocked, susceptible to any random passerby and I cannot manage the gate to get it shut.

How can I excuse myself for needing to know these things from you, for being so needy that I cannot live without these answers so long as there is a chance that I might know? How can I excuse myself to not need anything more from you that you have already proven you are unwilling and unable to give?

How is it that I can ask?

How is it that you are able to ignore?

Because I Can

I'm at the library this morning and as early as it is, I've already gotten so much done, I feel as if I should just go home, throw myself down on the couch and spend the rest of the day watching movies relaxing...

The guy sitting next to me, or rather one chair down from me, smells like a walking ash tray. It's hard to breathe - not only because I'm still hanging on tight to this cold I've had for the past two weeks - but I swear he's managed to clog up my lungs a little bit more just by being there. And yes, I realize it's rude but seriously, maybe it's time to cut down on a few dozen packs a day...

Anyhoo I really don't have much to say this morning. I've decided - well, with a little common sense talk from both Bren and my Mom - that's it's time to unplug from the whole GB situation. Simply put, if it's not right now, it's never going to be. And as both were quick to point out, I need to remember how the situation played out with SB when honestly, I should have left well enough alone the first time I knew he wasn't the one for me. Needless to say, I don't always learn my lessons the first or even the third go round. But I'm trying...

So this is me saying okay. Let's see what's around the corner. Because good things come to those who wait, and maybe I've just got to wait a little bit longer.

When Is Enough, Enough?

There are some things you need to figure out for yourself. Like how you feel about someone, or how you feel you're treating them and whether or not fairness even comes into play. But you and I both know that not everyone does that. Not everyone takes responsibility for themselves and their actions because they simply don't care or don't know what to do with that information when they have it. And so they become immobile; unable to do anything.

If I were made of much stronger stuff than which I am, I'd be able to tell him not to call me anymore, I'd cut off this last line of connection that we have. I'd be able to tell him plain and straight that it hurts too much to simply have these two minutes conversations that have nothing to do with us other than where we work. He could ask for someone else but he doesn't. And in truth, I don't want him to when the crumbs of these conversations fill my heart just as fast as they break it.

But I'm tired of trying to figure out what it is he's thinking or what kind of man he is. Because the way I see it, he's either the kind who sets out to get what he wants just to get it to leave it behind, or he's – for lack of any word that might be a better fit – scared of what he feels. That is, if he feels anything for me at all.

And I wish I could say that he did feel something. He said to me once that I had a little piece of his heart – I had it! - and that eventually I might have it all. That's not verbatim to what he said, but it's close and I remember most – if not all - of our conversations this way. Little snippets…

"Are you going to talk me to sleep again? If so how about some cookies and warm milk? That's not too much to ask for is it? See, I'm keeping my wishes reasonable as asked.(for now)"

"I'm not the scared little bitch you think I am but I am scared. But I'm not what you think I am right now."

Him: "Is this how you thought this conversation was going to end?"

Me: "No… I thought I was going to have to say good-bye."

"You hate me… Understood. You said we could still talk. Give me a call sometime."

"You don't like me anymore do you?"

And I have answers even when I don't answer him. His last question – just a few hours ago – "You don't like me anymore do you?" I evaded an actual answer. I didn't say no, I didn't say yes… It was just one big pause before I said I didn't have an opinion. But you know me well enough to know that I always have an opinion, I was born with opinions… I should have just told the truth. Like doesn't even cover how I feel. Love on the other hand, that just might be skimming the surface. And now, I'm back to wanting to cry, for missing him so much than now even my dreams betray me in my sleep…

But I'm stubborn. Stubborn enough to believe that it's not my job to chase him. It's not my responsibility to make him own up to what he feels. It's not my job to ask him why or why not or ask him to consider the possibilities. I've written that letter. I've had conversations with him after that letter. He can't doubt my heart in the slightest. He can't say he doesn't understand how I feel about him or where I would like us to be ten years from now. He knows all of this. He knows I want a life with him in it. The only thing he doesn't know is how long I'll wait for him to figure all this out… And that may be the only answer that I don't truly know… Though I know I won't be able to wait on him forever...

Traveling By Dark

Somebody should always know where you are even when you're not quite sure. This is a theory I subscribe to, especially when I find myself doing the unexpected; like taking a trip I hadn't intended to take on a night not fit for driving any distance beyond the miles it takes to just get home.

I was in Amsterdam, pulled up at a drive through window paying the clerk for my blueberry coffee with one hand and holding my cell phone in the other, Brenda's voice buzzing in my ear.

I'm checking in, I say, the sound of my voice tired and gravelly from a not gotten over yet cold. Just stopping for coffee and gas. I'll call you back after I'm back on the road, I tell her hanging up.

At the gas station, I keep to the outside edge beneath the lights, not as close to the store as I would normally be, choosing instead to avoid a small group of people loitering outside their doors. My eyes dart between the numbers adding up on the pump, and the loiterers with their music cranked up and their pants near down to their knees as new sounds drifting in from across the street draw my eyes outward into the night outlining the silhouettes of three people stumbling in the darkness towards my side of the road.

The tank isn't full yet but I consider leaving, estimating the amount of time it will take for these new hazards to reach where I am, to how long it will take for my receipt to print and to get inside my car where I can be safely locked inside. Alone in a place I've only been in long enough to just pass through, I err on the side of safety, and make myself ready to go.

It takes two hours of solid travel time to get from here to there. Amsterdam is my one hour mark. I pick up the phone to call Brenda back, setting it on speaker so I can drive hands free in accordance with the laws of New York State. (FYI…Mom.)

I can't talk long I say even before I say hello. It's foggy out and I can barely see and some asshole behind me is riding my tail like I'm his Seeing Eye dog and my nerves are completely shot just trying to figure out where the road is and where it isn't and I've got to call you back because I'm got to concentrate on my driving, I manage to say all in one breath, I'll call you again when I reach the Northway.

These are my rules. They are quite simple. Someone must always know where I am at all times. Even if it's only to say, I last talked to her here when she was there. When I think about it, it's kind of funny this neurosis of mine. And even as I wonder what it means to be so fearful of getting lost or simply just disappearing from a place where once you were, the answer itself waves to me from the backseat of my car.

I know why and for me that's more than enough.

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Calls & Conversations (Heard & Unheard)

Proving to herself that she's ceased to care backfires the moment she hears his voice coming crystal clear across the phone. She keeps it professional, keeps the conversation to the job, keeps the bad thoughts she's thinking about their history to herself, stops herself from becoming that girl all over again.

You know that girl; that girl who just didn't want to get it; the one who wanted to believe in love conquering all, against any and every odd. Glass half full and not empty girl, the one who played the cards in a deck stacked against her because she believed she had a chance. The stupid girl who thought she knew him much better than she did, and thought that he – HE! - Of all people! - wouldn't play her like that. She believed the best of him. She never considered he might treat her like some fly by night fuck and run, and in the morning there'd be no question of respect or having lost it. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't do that to her.

She was that girl; that girl who cared about him in every possible way. The one who thought he hung the moon. That same girl who heard his voice and felt like she'd finally found out who the right person was all along, and judged him not by a past he couldn't alter but by the man she knew him to be. She saw him, saw past what others said was good reason to walk away, saw beyond the smoke and mirrors of his own defense and fell in love with him imperfections and all. She believed him to be a man worthy of coming home to.

And she was the girl who would have met him halfway in everything he did or would want to do. She would have hung the stars in his sky. That's how she felt, though she doesn't know now how she feels, she should hate him – he's even said so himself - because he way that boy. That boy who made that girl feel like an absolute slut, like she had something to be ashamed of, because they shared one night together. One blissfully glorious night when everything that could be was, and the heavens reached down to touch the earth and the world consisted of just two people. Him and her.

Now that girl can't think about that night without wishing that it did and didn't happen. Recalling it now as an act of shame. Shame because she had believed and shame for allowing herself to be disillusioned. She wonders how he feels. She wonders if he feels the same…

She didn't want to be that girl. Didn't want to be the fool. Didn't want to be counted among the ones who didn't matter. Because she wanted to matter – just to one person – and she wanted most to matter to him.

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