Come take a ride on the hormone coaster!!!

It’s week 3 of my little packet of birth control pills. Sometimes I’d like to think that I take BC to allow me to be kinda slutty, but it’s mostly because my periods have a mind of their own. (overshare…sue me!)

However, these tiny little pills have a strange effect over me for one week every four weeks. Week 3. Sometimes referred to as the “green m & m” week as I can tend to be hornier then a teenage boy. Sometimes I am all sad and dreary during week 3. Sometimes, like this week, I have such crazy mood swings that I think my hair gets blown into knots from all the ups and downs.  Of course, I’m a good mid-western girl who tries to hide these mood swings as much as possible, but inside my head is a mess.

Last night on the way home I went from feeling like I was totally alone in the world to being so thankful for my friends and back to being alone all in the time it took me to drive about 2 blocks.

I will admit that there are some things going on in my little world that aren’t helping to calm me down. For example, I’ve recently decided to buy a house. Well, I’ve decided that I want to buy a house. I have no savings and iffy credit, but am bound and determined to be a homeowner by the end of the year. I’d like to say it’s just because I want the $8000 first time home-buyers credit, but I know it’s more then that. I want roots. I want something to call my own. I have finally realized that thinking I will have a husband to buy a home with is holding me back from having things I really want and seems like something I can no longer chase, it just keeps running and I’m tired.

There’s the baby thing….but whatever, that will work out somehow. I truly believe that things work out as they should and am trying with all my might to let things happen instead of trying to make them something they are not and possibly never should be.

I have friends who are going through all kinds of things in their lives and I don’t know how to help. I don’t know what to do because so many things have to do with their relationships. I officially declare myself unable to be of any help in relationship issues because my lack of experience makes my opinions useless. I find myself thinking of what I should say to make the outcome what benefits me most, not what is necessarily best…and I hate that.

The grass is much greener wherever I am not these days. Making minor changes of my immediate surroundings helps for awhile, but then I start daydreaming of being somewhere else. Austin, Los Angeles, Michigan, places I associate with fun and being loved. But then again, I only go to these places long enough to have fun and be loved. It’s not that I don’t feel loved in Nashville, it’s home and it always will be, but it’s just different.  Again, it’s the difference between a date and a marriage…..but I’m not well experienced in either of those things, so I just want the easy thing. I want the long random conversations. I want to be able to talk about things to someone who knows little about them but is interested anyway. I want new experiences and random silliness.

But I also just want to be home. Snuggled with my furry friends and puttering around doing lots of nothing.

I guess I am mostly just ready for week 4 of the bc pills. Cramps I can handle, my crazy mind I cannot.

Nightmare @ Furry Friend Farm

This time next week I will be packing my bags to fly out to Cali. and drive back to Nashville with my mom and her evil cat Lucy. I am so excited that my mom decided to retire to Nashville that I still can’t really believe it’s happening. I see only good things coming from her being geographically close to me now. However, there seems to be one bad thing that is happening in my subconscious.

For the last few weeks I’ve been having nightmares about my mom moving here. That’s not accurate, I’m having nightmares that my mom is moving here and bringing my former stepfather with her. A man that neither of us have seen for around 18 years now. I have these nightmares where she doesn’t mind that he doesn’t work, that he drinks himself to oblivion and then hits her. That she thinks I need to just get over it and make nice. While these thoughts have no basis in reality, they are messing me up.

Everyone has gone through shit in their lives. Mine was my stepfather. When my mom called me at my dad’s house to tell me that she had gotten engaged while on a trip to NYC….I cried. I mean, sobbed, terrified of what would happen.  I knew this guy was a jerk. He had his moments, but he drank a lot and wasn’t nice to my mom a lot of the time. I didn’t even know that the scar above her eyebrow wasn’t from a sailing accident, but from him pushing her down the stairs!

I tried to make the best of the situation. I tried to not be devastated that instead of going to middle school with my friends I’d had since Kindergarten I was moving to California to be closer to my stepbrother….the stepbrother who threw darts at my Duran Duran posters and hung my stuffed animals from the ceiling when I was out of town.

We moved to California and there were the basic trauma involved with something like that. My stepfather was a lawyer and had to pass the California Bar Exam. He seemed to wait forever to even take it and then when he finally did, he didn’t pass. He didn’t have a job or seemingly any intention of getting a job. At our first place in Hermosa Beach I didn’t have a bedroom….I slept in the dining room.  California dreaming my ass. After a particularly horrible stretch where my stepfather was drinking a lot and berating me and my mother for being lazy, etc….my mom decided we should make a break for it. She didn’t tell me what was going on, but called me to let her in the security gate of the building. I came down to open the gate and she was with a friend and they told me to just get in the car, we were leaving. My 6th grade mind raced through all the things that I didn’t have with me…but didn’t care. We were going to be free.

Except we weren’t. We were gone for a few days, they apparently “worked things out” and we went back. I am pretty sure that it was right then that I was completely over this man and hated him being in my life.

Everything was pretty much status quo until my Junior year of high school (status quo meaning he was a drunk bastard, didn’t have a job and was horrible to my mother at every opportunity!).  The summer before my Junior year  I had made a birthday dinner for my mother. I had to run to the store to get something and asked my stepfather to watch the food in the oven to make sure it didn’t burn. I came back. It was black. I was furious! As any 17 year old would do when furious, I cried. I screamed at my stepfather asking him why he couldn’t do one little thing. He proceeded to throw the burnt food at me and slap me across the face. Happy Birthday Mom!

That was it, I left the house and started walking to my friend’s house. I couldn’t even think straight enough to drive. I walked and cried and walked and cried. I called my mom later and told her I couldn’t come home until something was done about him. She asked that I give her a few days and she would work something out. The next few months were a disaster. As to not dwell on these more then I need to, here is a bulleted list that is not necessarily in chronological order:

  • Restraining orders were filed and then rescinded
  • One holiday weekend my mother and I were basically held hostage because one of the therapists my stepfather had been seeing had called the police because he was homicidal
  • Another of the therapists he was seeing had called the police because they thought he was suicidal…that sounded like a great thing to me!
  • The SWAT team was called out and stationed on the roof of the houses next door
  • The Redondo Beach police knew our names and address by heart, which actually got me out of a speeding ticket (sometimes pity is good)
  • My father came up from San Diego and placed my mom in a hotel, took me back with him and told my stepfather he should leave or my dad would make sure he left.
  • During my stay in San Diego, the police escorted my stepfather from our home and served him with yet another restraining order….but not before he stole all of our stuff. My mom called me to tell me that from a phone she had to go buy because he even took that.
  • After yet another retraining order was rescinded, I came home to find my stepfather passed out on the kitchen floor. (My mom and I lived upstairs, he lived downstairs, we shared the kitchen) I walked over to the counter, stepping over his drunken loser body and grabbed a kitchen knife. I was thisclose to ending this nightmare for once and all. But I couldn’t do it…I couldn’t let this man ruin my life even more. So I ran upstairs and locked myself in my room.
  • I don’t remember specifics, but somehow my mom got him to leave. He gave back some of the stuff he had stolen, took his cat and his truck and left.
  • We moved across town. Occasionally got random letters from him filled with hateful things.
  • We moved again and I don’t think he ever got that address.

This monster made it impossible for me to go away to college. He ruined my mother in ways I can’t even comprehend. What makes me most angry is that he has obviously made me question my mother’s judgement, even now, nearly 20 years later. I want to be past this….but I don’t know that I will ever be.

Lone Star state of mind

Texas, you big beautiful state you!

Texas has been a part of my life since before I was born. It’s part of family lore that my paternal grandparents missed my birth because my grandpa was afraid they would hit freezing rain in Missouri on their way to their winter home in South Padre Island Texas. I would bet that they day she died, my grandmother was still pissed about that. I would also guarantee that if he had it to do over again, my grandfather would not have risked freezing rain in Missouri.

Shortly after I was born my grandparents moved to Padre permanently. Sure, I never knew what it was like to have grandparents live in the same town as me, but they lived on a freakin’ island!! How cool is that.  Back in the day there wasn’t much to do at Padre, but I never noticed.  They lived less then a block from the beach and when I was there…which was often…the vast majority of my time was spent on the beach, in the gulf or in the swimming pools at the small condo buildings that lined the beach. Seriously, it was an idyllic experience.

Around the age of 6 I started spending long summers in Padre. Sometimes I flew, by myself–such a big girl, but more often then not I was driven down. My dad and I would hop in whatever vehicle he had at the time and set out for a two day trip that only went through two states. Usually we would stop in Dallas and see a family friend who lived there. I’d swim in the pool or we’d go to another friend’s house for brisket or some other such Texas fare. Then early the next day we would take the long drive to the Island.

I love all the small towns in Texas. They are all so different but are all so similar and are all so….Texas. There was a Dairy Queen we would stop at in some tiny town.  There I would just sit and people watch, even at six, and wonder what it was like to live in such a small town. Sure, Edmond Oklahoma is hardly a booming metropolis, but our streets were streets, not farm roads.  We would drive through King Ranch….which takes forever….and then soon we were in the Rio Grande Valley. So many little random business and so much agriculture. I’ve been a lot of places in this country and none are anything like the RGV. Once I started seeing seashell shops, I knew we were close. We would take that drive along the super tall causeway and I was once again home, or at least in my home away from home. My grandparents and parents would talk shit about Texans and how they acted like Texas was the be all end all, but secretly I think they sort of agreed.  My grandma had a decorative plate that had two angels on it and one of them had a speech bubble over it’s head that said, “And if we are very good, we will go to Texas!”  I have all of her plates…but that one is missing. I so wish I had that plate.

Once I moved to California in 1985, trips to Texas became fewer and further between. Plus I was a teenager and let’s face it, teenagers suck and don’t appreciate anything at the time.  When my grandparents moved to Florida around 1994, my trips to Texas ended. I didn’t even knew I missed them until…

September 2005.  While the gulf coast was still reeling from Hurricane Katrina and anticipating Hurricane Rita, I was on my way to the Austin City Limits festival. When I stepped off the plane in Austin, my love for Texas came flooding back. The smell of breakfast tacos, the live music, sharing a plane with Ray Benson and wishing him luck on getting to the festival on time for his slot. It all was perfect. I dropped my stuff off at the hotel, grabbed a cab to Zilker park and I was off. The natural beauty in Texas isn’t easy for some to appreciate. I, however, am truly enchanted by it.  The scrubby mesquite just standing there against the heat and wind. The long stretches of land untouched by “civilization.” All of it resonates inside of me like few other places I’ve ever been. Austin has the lovely Town Lake, the refreshing Barton Springs and so many trails and byways that it’s easy to forget you are in a city. I spent the next three days sweating and breathing dirt and loving my life more then I knew I could. I didn’t eat, I drank water. I took long showers in the evening to remove the mass quantities of soil that seemed embedded in my flesh. I loved it all. It probably didn’t hurt that the first night we were there my favorite band, Reckless Kelly, was playing at Threadgill’s across the street from my hotel.  I’m not usually one to go solo to a show, but I couldn’t miss it and my traveling companion thought slee sounded like a better option. Then I remembered, you’re never alone at a Reckless Kelly show because RK fans are all friends you just haven’t met yet. Sure, the members of the band aren’t FROM Texas, but the heart of the band is from Texas and that all worked out well in my mind.  The next night I had, what I consider, the ultimate Texas evening. Drove down to New Braunfels in the darkest of nights, ate dinner overlooking the Guadalupe river and saw Reckless Kelly at Gruene Hall. Sweet Jesus, I’ve never been a churchgoer, but if church made me feel like that night did, I would be up bright and early every Sunday morning. Of course, Reckless Kelly doesn’t see many early Sunday mornings, so I think I can keep sleeping in.

My next trio to Texas was for SXSW. Lifechanging trip. Ate the best BBQ of my life at Kreuz’s. Had more fun then should be allowed by law. It was confirmed on this trip that Texas had played and continued to play a huge role in my life.

I’ve only been back once since SXSW in 2006 and that was for a Reckless Kelly live cd recording, obsessed? me? surely you jest!  I was there for 16 hours, but what I 16 hours it was. I made friends that night that I still keep in touch with. We were all part of something super special that night…and I don’t think it could have happened anywhere but Texas.

Lately I’ve been NEEDING to go back. Sure, my best friend since first grade had a baby 8 months ago that I haven’t seen in Chicago. Sure, I never visit my family in Florida. But dammit all to hell I need to go to Texas.  I need to breathe that thick air. I need to shop for random things, and cowboy boots!, in Austin.  I need to drink crappy beer and good liquor with some of the most fun people on the planet.  I need to sit in Zilker park and just think. I need to sit on Town Lake  and drink coffee at Mozarts. I need to roam the stacks in Waterloo. I need some Lone Star time.

I guess I’m kind of a lone star myself. But I hope that, much like Texas, with it’s quiet strength, that there is a nobility with me being a lone star. Texas isn’t about the jerks who act like when you cross out of the state line you lose any reason for living.  Texas is about knowing that when you cross into Texas, you are crossing into a special, stark, beautiful, lush and dry land that has endless opportunities and room for endless heartache.

Don’t mess with Texas! 🙂

THIS single girl’s guide to gay boys

First off, I call all males boys, regardless of age, sexual orientation, etc.

It has been said that gay boys have an affinity for me. I seem to draw them to me. Perhaps I look safe, a port in the storm, if you will. Maybe they can just tell that I think they are fabulous and funny and great in general. Are there invisible words on my forehead that tell them that I don’t judge? Do I give off a serious ‘Straight, not narrow” vibe?  Whatever it is, I like it.

I’ve been watching “Queer as Folk” on DVD lately and it makes me love the gay boys even more. I admire their ability to live complex lives in a society that doesn’t understand, much less accept them in so many ways. I love watching the characters interact with one another in a way that heterosexuals, regardless of gender, simply don’t do.  For example, on an episode I watched last night, one of the guys (guy 1) said to another one( guy 2, whom guy 1 happens to have a horrible crush on) that they were bonded to each other because neither one believes they deserve to be loved. Those words are still resonating in my ears. Straight girls would never admit that to each other. At least, I would never admit that to another straight girl. That’s the thing with gay boys, so much of their lives is considered “wrong” by society that they don’t feel the need to cover things up between themselves…..sometimes.

Watching these DVDs has made me realize a couple of things about the gay boys in (or formally in as the case may be) in my life.  A couple of weeks ago, one of my best work friends moved to Dallas. I am still somewhat in denial about this, but have almost come to the conclusion that he is really gone and that he is not coming back. I gave into this reality when I noticed how quiet my days have become. How I have no one to talk about celebrity gossip with anymore. How Project Runway isn’t as exciting without the re-cap conversation the next morning. How, in general, my days are not nearly as good as they were when he was here.

But, he is a gay boy, and as I have learned the hard way, they get over things like that much faster then I do. Which brings me to the relationship failure that has perhaps affected me most in life. See, I have a gay ex-husband. I never called him my gay husband when we were friends, but with the nastiness that came along with our “break-up” it seems only fitting. I now feel as though I know what it feels like to be a divorcee who never had kids with their ex. You go from seeing each other every day and knowing what it going on in the minutia of each other’s lives, to nothing. Apparently no residue of emotion is supposed to exist. You are just to move on and almost act like the other person doesn’t exist.

Our break-up was complicated, as most break-ups are. I was wrong in many ways and he couldn’t deal with me anymore. This is not to say I don’t feel wronged by him, because believe me, I do. But I am fine with the knowledge that it was my actions who started the decline of our friendship. I was no longer a silly girl who would go anywhere and do anything. I was a terribly depressed person who spent more time crying then anything else. I had gone through some physical issues and work related things that made me a wreck. I understand this. I wasn’t fun to be around. I hated to be around myself, but hated being alone more. I was a mess. Apparently I was too much of a mess for some people to deal with. I understand that.

I guess what I don’t understand is how, nearly 2 years later, I am still hurting over this and he doesn’t seem to care. When we run into each other it’s as though we are faint acquaintences. I will occassionaly send an email commenting on something that we were both in to and get no response. (Admittedly it’s been months since I’ve done this. I can’t deal with that much rejection.) I still find myself almost calling him to share something that only he would appreciate, but then I remember I can’t. I remember that I have lost this person. Except for occassional sightings or updates from mutual friend, or of course, his blog (ahhhhh technology!) he is dead to me.

Perhaps gay boys don’t really like me any more then straight boys? Perhaps our times of laughter and silliness and endless chatter are simply the gay boy/straight girl version of cheap and random sex between straight girls and boys?

I don’t really know. The more I think about things the more I realize that I don’t know much. Maybe that’s fine. Perhaps the knowledge that you don’t know anything is liberating. But right now, it just feels pretty lonely.

Chemistry.com: The Truth

This is not some expose on a online dating site. This is, rather, a more truthful response to the extensive profile I filled out on the aforementioned dating site earlier today.

Who I am and who I am looking for:

I am borderline neurotic. I have a vivid imagination and a tendency to over-share. I can tend to be clingy, but need my space. I feel alone in crowds. I love my dog too much. Sometimes I forget to brush my teeth. I never put away my clean laundry. I like the idea of eating healthy, but eat crap out of convenience. I have pretty blue eyes, and I know it. There is no way for me to have cleavage. I fall down a lot. I laugh way too loud. Sometimes I hold in my sneezes in some weak attempt at femininity.  I enjoy museums and such, but spend large amounts of time watching random reality shows.  I sometimes think people are looking at me in admiration, but in my heart know it’s not true. I relate very well to gay men. Gay men love me. Straight men are much less interested. I sometimes have a horrible time holding up my end of a conversation. I try to be a people pleaser to the point that I either come across as super boring or eventually freak out and spill all the dissenting opinions I’ve been holding in. I was once a registered Republican, but currently am terrified by Republicans in general. I believe in God and think Jesus was probably a cool dude, but, in general, Christians scare the hell out of me. I don’t care what anyone does as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. Stealing is bad. I drive too fast. I sleep too much. Sometimes I take 3 showers a day. Sometimes I don’t shower for 3 days. I have 2 cats, and am ashamed of that sometimes.  I’ve kissed a girl. I can’t understand why people like me but am crushed if they don’t. I have a philanthropic heart, but a lazy ass. I love gossip. I may want to have children, but probably for all the wrong reasons.  I’m loyal to a fault. I’m nosy. I’m mostly a mess, the wants to be loved.

I am looking for a man. I like dark hair and beards. I want someone who listens to the minutia of my day and can tell which of my two friends named Erin I am talking about without clarification. I like boys who drive trucks. I like smart boys, who aren’t too smart to act stupid.  I want a boy who is more attractive then me, but doesn’t know it. I want a boy who will hold my hand. I want a boy with a healthy sexual appetite. I want a boy who understands the ridiculous nature of porn, but isn’t too “high brow” to enjoy it. I want a boy who cooks, or at least will eat my cooking. I want a boy who loves Nashville, but wants to travel. I want a boy who can hold his liquor….but doesn’t hold on to it too tight or all the time.I want a boy who will get pleasure out of seeing how excited I get at a Reckless Kelly show. I want a boy who thinks it’s great when I want to hang with “my girls” or even better, when I want to hang with “my boys.” I want a boy who knows more about me then anyone else, but still wants to know more.

I’m pretty sure that even if I had forked up the $50 to get an actual subscription to this dating site, had I filled out the form honestly, it would have been $50 down the drain. I’m all for online dating for others, but it just ain’t my thing. I lack the self confidence to open myself up like that and would much rather spend that $50 on shoes.

So there.

It ain’t easy being me

This was an email to a couple of friends. They said it should be a blog. I tend to obey pretty well 🙂

So, Tuesday night I fell off the curb at my place and screwed up my ankle and skinned my knee….just call me Grace!
Then last night I’m driving to the dog park. Out of no where the car in front of me swerves, by the time I notice this I see what they were swerving for and run right over it.
Of course, this big plastic bucket thing gets stuck under my car (turns out it was a kitty litter bucket–obviously the universe telling me to change the cat box) So I’m driving up 65 just hoping that the thing comes unstuck and doesn’t fly out the back of my car and hit the car behind me. This doesn’t happen so I take the next exit, go to a gas station and pull the kitty litter bucket out from under my car.
I think, at this point, everything is fine and we go towards the dog park. Then I hear another dragging noise and realize that the plastic guard thing under the front of my car is probably dragging a bit and decide I’ll look at it when I get to the dog park.
The noise gets louder and louder as I drive. Crazy homeless people are looking at me like I’m nuts. I’m pretty sure I saved a man’s life who was getting beat up because the thugs were so amazed at the white girl with the loud car. I finally pull over and take a look.  It’s basically holding on my very little plastic, so I get on my (skinned) knees, in a dress and proceed to yank the whole thing off. Just as I’m getting my injured, dirty ass up off the road, cute guy drives up and asks if I need help.
“Do girl’s in dresses with skinned knees and dirty hands carrying large plastic car parts turn you on?” is what I thought.
“Nope I’m good” is what I said.
Sometimes I wonder why I even risk leaving the house.

Better Living Through Chemistry

So, I’ve been on anti-depressants for about a year and a half now. Seriously! I know it’s shocking for as well adjusted person as I to be taking such measures to be able to function, but it is true. The chemicals in my brain can simply not be trusted to regulate themselves and, this is truly shocking, vast amounts of vodka didn’t really help either. I like to think that this was a great decision on my part and that I am much better at life in general since bringing Celexa into my life. Hopefully those who knew me before and stuck around through some ugly times to see me after would agree.

My prescription ran out a few days ago. Well, let me clarify, the bottle I had ran out the same day my mom came in town for a visit and I got sidetracked and didn’t get a refill ASAP. This, I have come to understand, was a REALLY bad idea. I had been having relentless, exhausting dreams for the last few nights and this morning I woke up with that feeling that I had almost forgotten, that feeling that getting out of bed was going to be a big chore today. At first, I figured it had to do with my mom going home today. That always makes me sad and knowing that it would be over 6 months before I would see her again, definitely is rough. But this had a different feeling, a feeling that was more familiar then I wanted it to be.

I instantly called my prescription in, but the day started to get away from me and it was time to take my mom to the airport before I had a chance to get to Walgreens. As we were sitting at Cracker Barrel ordering food, my mind started racing and I couldn’t keep a thought in my head or form a complete sentence and it turned into a struggle to keep my shit together before dropping my mom off at the airport. She hates leaving under any circumstances, but if the flood of tears I felt pushing on my eyes broke through, there was no way I could have gotten her on the plane. I knew I just needed to get my pills and get home and chill.

If you have never had chemical imbalances or fun things like that, make sure to add that when you count your blessings. It SUCKS! You want to talk to people, but you know you would not make any sense. You want to be alone, but are scared to death to be lonely. It’s like your heart and you brain are duking it out and whichever one is messed up is winning. There is a part of me that is kinda glad this happened, I think I had gotten to comfortable. I needed a little reminder that life is a fragile thing and laziness is no excuse to not take of myself. Now, I’m going to go snuggle with my dog and watch random TV until my mind gets back in order…..

A death in the family

My Uncle Jim died a few weeks ago. Before you think “Oh—how sad” let me tell you a few things about this man. He abused my father’s sister both physically and mentally for who knows how long. Even when her debilitating depression and MS was at its worse, his wrath did not subside. In addition to his dubious skills as a husband, he also had some interesting ideas on parenting. His oldest son apparently made a good punching bag and his youngest child, a daughter, was a sex toy from the time she was 8 until she was 13. Only his middle son seems to have survived youth with minimal physical abuse at the hands of a parent. But, the mental and emotional scars are all over all three of my cousins.

 

For the last 11 months of Uncle Jim’s life he was in the hospital. Heart surgery, constant infections and pretty much anything else you can imagine was what he dealt with on a daily basis. Karma was doing its thing on this one. Shortly after my aunt died, my uncle remarried and this woman was by his side through all of this time. She ingratiated herself with my cousin’s wife (who knew nothing of the “ways” of this man) and took the role of Grandmother to their three boys. She blogged almost daily about her husband’s condition and often mentioned the “grandsons” and occasionally my cousin’s wife. Rarely, hardly ever really, did she mention her husband’s children.

 

About two weeks before my uncle (I have yet to come up with a term for him that shows no real connection to me) died, his wife emailed my cousin, the middle child, and once again chastised him and his siblings for being so uninterested in his father’s condition. She went so far as to say that Jim had always told her that his kids abandoned their mother when she was dying (a falsehood!) and he expected them to do the same to him. This set my cousin off in ways I can’t even believe, yet completely understand. He directed her to contact his sister and see what some of the reason that they have issues with their father might be.

 

My cousin was contacted and she spilled the whole story to “the wife” who retorted with “Oh yeah, I knew that.”

 

Really? She knew that and still asked why the kids weren’t holding vigils at their father’s bedside? Seriously, who in the world did she think she was kidding? If she did know, she is as twisted as her husband was!

 

If you ever have the opportunity to go to the funeral of someone who was hated by most who really knew him, do it. Be prepared for surreal moments. There will be very apparent “sides” taken at the gathering after the service. There may be no flowers at the church….NONE! The widow will probably be sitting alone until she gets pity from her 6-year-old “grandson” who decides to sit by her. Discussions of the deceased won’t be about shared happy moments, but more likely comparing notes of how they messed up with nearly all of the people there. Everyone will be asking themselves why they came and most will come up with the same answer “For the kids.” Then you realize that the kids are asking themselves why they are there. I guess the answer on that is a societal obligation, or perhaps it is to make sure the bastard is really dead.

 

Folks say death is final….but it’s not. There are numerous things to be dealt with after the death of a family member. Many of these things have financial ramifications. In the case of my uncle, he apparently made sure that his wife was taken care of….and no one else. Not his children whose lives he nearly destroyed, not his grandson’s he claimed to love so much. No one but the woman who was stupid enough to marry him at the age of 49. He was her prince charming. Never has life as a “spinster” been more appealing to me. This woman is making sure that her husband is able to get one last jab in at his kids. His kids who have done the best they can with the hand they were dealt. A hand that was dealt with anger and inappropriate behavior and fear.

 

I know this whole thing is far from over. But I feel that I will be closer to my cousins now and they will be closer with each other.

 

Upon my departure for the memorial service, my boss gave me a eulogy to give to my uncle.

 

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust

You’ll burn in Hell

For fucking with us

 

Adios Uncle Jim, you monstrous bastard.

Lyrical Truth….

Nobody’s Girl                                                                                                                                        (W. Braun/ M. Braun)                                                                                                                             The first man that you ever loved
Left your mamma, never said goodbye to anyone
And you were raised with your head held high
But any fool can see it’s just a clever disguise

You’re nobody’s baby
You’re nobody’s darlin’
You’re nobody’s girl

You’ve always been a little scared to open your heart
And you never let anybody take it too far
You never let em’ on the inside
‘Cause you’re always scared of getting taken for a ride

You’re nobody’s baby
You’re nobody’s darlin’
You’re nobody’s girl

Everybody wants you but you don’t wanna care
So you keep em’ at a distance with the frown you wear
You spend your time trying to even the score
And you’ve got it in your head you deserve a lot more
The first one was a total disaster
So was the second one and every one after
But when you’re breaking in a broken home
You’re gonna be sure to spend some nights on your own

When you’re nobody’s baby
You’re nobody’s darlin’
You’re nobody’s girl
You’re nobody’s baby
You’re nobody’s darlin’
You’re nobody’s girl
You’re nobody’s girl

This is one of my favorite songs by my favorite band. It has been suggested that this is MY song and perfectly explains me. No amount of love for the band or the song can make that statement not suck.

This is a HORRIBLE song to have people think it about me. Sure, there are some similarities to situations in my life. Sure, most of my nights are spent in bed with a dog and two cats, not some hot fella. Of course, it has been expressed to me that I tend to keep folks at a distance, but I don’t frown that often!

Fine, this is SO my life. Again, the illustrious Braun brothers have insight to me without even knowing me. Now how do I change this?????

 

What’s on my mind today.

  1. a certain friend who is being distant these days. When I ask them about something in particular they indicate that I don’t know what’s going on with their world right now and when I point out that the inquiry was attempting to remedy that precise situation, they say nothing.
  2. an email a friend sent me the other day about “farting strawberries” that continues to make me laugh out loud.
  3. how men can walk into the bathroom with a cup of coffee or other beverage in their hands and do their business. Even if they put the cup on the counter, who knows what kind of “spray” is floating around there. My office is across from the men’s room and I have offered my desk, etc…as a storage spot for beverages. Not nearly enough of them have taken me up on this offer.
  4. sometimes I think that I don’t express aspects of my personality and interest correctly. For example, I love to go to art shows, etc….but I think most people think I’m just a bar type gal.
  5. in addition to art, I also enjoy this immensely. If only I could roller skate and was at all a bad ass.
  6. I want attention from boys, but I don’t want to have to ask for it. Wait, correction, I want attention from certain boys.
  7. most people don’t get me. It’s not that I’m all complicated or anything, I think people just don’t know what to make of me a lot of the time. I guess it makes sense since I don’t know what to make of myself a lot of the time. Perhaps I need to find more folks who are willing to come along for the ride.
  8. There is a boy/man in my office whose hair I want to run my fingers through. In a meeting yesterday I could vividly imagine myself reaching across the table and doing just that. I even think my arm twitched a bit in an effort to move my imagination into reality.
  9. I can’t wait to move into my new place, but HATE packing.
  10. If I look just to the right of my monitor I see my Tim Gunn bobblehead and a chair that has one of my old bridesmaid dresses and a box with a broken piggy bank in it.
  11. My hair needs to be colored in the worst way.
  12. Everyone keeps coming in and “borrowing” my flavored coffee creamer. Whatever.
  13. There is a member of my family who is dying. This person has done terrible things and has pretty much ruined a segment of my family. However, they have recreated themselves for people who don’t know the “other stuff” and those people are completely devastated at the idea of the loss. I feel bad for the people who are able to live in ignorant bliss about this person.
  14. I miss my girlfriends in Cali. like crazy. Recently I’ve just wished it was like 9 years ago and we were all ruling the music department at a So Cal Borders with caustic wit and more estrogen then you can shake a stick at. The best part is that, even though we don’t see each other very often (and I see them the least of all) I know that they will always have my back and I will always have theirs.
  15. I really wish the damn IT guy would come load iTunes on my computer!!!!
  16. cupcakes again……
  17. my dog
  18. how my March madness bracket could have gone SO badly. However, not badly enough for me to be in last place in the work pool, where I would at LEAST get my $10 back!

Ok–that’s all. My mind has just stopped suddenly. I will now go watch the clock countdown until I will leave the office and go to the bar to play some trivia and drink some vodka…..but seriously, I do like art 🙂