Monday, December 7, 2009

2009 I Hate to See You Leave, But I Love to Watch You Go

2009 has not been the kindest year. 2009 had promise there for a while. The first half of the year brought with it bitter realizations and then soaringly high hopes stregnthened with a resolve of steel. I discovered acting was not only an amazing outlet, but also that I truly enjoyed it and looked forward to each and every class. I've overcome quite a few fears this year.

The second half of the year was vastly different. We experienced intense loss and grief when my father died. I keep being drawn into crazyville because some are having extreme difficulty accepting the loss. My husband was extremely ill and spent several days in the hospital for a still undiagnosed problem. My daughter has been ill since for nearly 3 months and the doctors have not yet been able to determine the cause.

2009 has been the kind of year that you definitely will not look back and remember it fondly.

So, 2009, you bitch. You took from us. You knocked us down over and over again without giving us a chance to even catch our breath. I will not miss you. I hope you die a thousand painful deaths.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Shuffle off the buffalo and buffle off the shuffle-o

My dad died September 14, 2009. To say that he had been in bad health would be an understatement. Just in the past couple of years he had gotten so bad that he couldn't walk without a great deal of assistance, and even then he fell down a lot. Congestive heart failure, really bad diabetes, high blood pressure, about 59% kidney function, hardening of the arteries, and a host of other maladies. He had been in a great deal of pain over the past few weeks. His hip and his legs gave him excruciating pain.

Still, with all of his pain and all of his illnesses, my dad didn't want anyone to worry about him. He wanted to help others. He would give away the shirt off his back to help someone in need. He worried about his younger brother who has been in the hospital now for about 6 weeks. None of his other brothers gave a damn about the youngest. They would let him rot in the hospital and not so much as feel an ounce of guilt.

My dad worked hard all of his life. When I was a child, my dad worked 3 jobs to make sure that our family was taken care of and to make sure that I had opportunities available to me that I may not have had otherwise. Both of my parents instilled in me a strong work ethic. I learned that it was important to work to take care of your family. I learned the importance of being there for family regardless of past hurts or disagreements. Family should always be there for one another.

My dad used to drive me to preschool and kindergarten with the windows down. We'd sing Old Man River and he'd sing loud and boisterously and people in the other cars would stare at us. I'd get so embarrassed that I'd slide down in my seat so no one could see me, but I'd be giggling all the while. "TOTE THAT BARGE! LIFT THAT BALE! IF YOU DRINK A LITTLE SCOTCH YOU'RE GONNA LAND IN JAIIIIILLLLLL!"

Then when he pulled up in front of my school I'd open the door to get out and he'd say "Shuffle off the buffalo and buffle off the shuffle-o." Every time. I have no idea what it meant or why he started saying it. But I couldn't start my day at school without it back then.

We sang Blue Eyes Cryin in the Rain. It was our song. At my wedding, instead of dancing to 'Daddy's Little Girl" or whatever most brides dance with their fathers to, my dad and I danced to Blue Eyes Cryin in the Rain. Now, I doubt I will ever be able to hear that song without crying myself. I wish I had been strong enough to sing that at his funeral. I think he would have liked that.

Each time I cry when I think of how much I miss my dad, I can hear him telling me "Don't worry about me. I'm okay." That's the way he was. Even as sick as he was and even in all the pain he was in he would tell others not to worry about him and that he was okay. That man could be in the hospital for open heart surgery and would tell those that visited him not to worry.

My dad loved to travel. He especially loved cruises. He and my mom would go on at least one cruise a year. I remember trips with him when I was a kid. A trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee when I was really young almost ended with the two of us falling off a mountain. We were sliding down on a bobsled and we flipped off the track into the snow close to the edge of the side of the mountain. As alarmed as he was, he just laughed so I wouldn't be upset. He took me swimming on one of our vacations and I fell off the top of the ladder at the swimming pool. He saw that I wasn't hurt so he laughed so that I wouldn't get upset and cry from being so scared.

I know my dad was wild in his younger days. I love to hear those stories. But, more than anything, I remember my dad as being strong and caring. He may not have always expressed his love, but I always knew that he did love me.

Another important lesson I learned from my dad was that you make your own good time. Don't sit around waiting for someone else to show you a good time. So, those of you that know how goofy I am and why I find humor in even the most morbid of times, it was my father's lesson. I make my own good time. I use humor in just about everything I do. Perhaps others don't always appreciate my humor, but that isn't my problem...I'm having a good time.

I never wanted to disappoint my parents. Sadly, I'm sure I disappointed them quite a bit. But, my dad told me "don't worry about what we think. You do what will make you happy and what you think is best for you." I tried this one, but I still feel guilty about disappointing them. I stayed in the New Orleans area because I wanted to make sure my parents were okay. I knew it would be difficult for them if their only child moved far away. I stay here now because I want my kids to know my parents.

My dad was a wonderful grandfather. He loved my kids more than words can describe. My dad always looked forward to seeing my son and daughter. He had such a close and special relationship with my son. If he went a week without seeing my son, I'd get a phone call telling me how much he was missing him. He positively glowed when he was around my kids. He was truly a proud grandfather.

My dad loved music. He collected records for years. When he got a computer and found out you could download music...he loaded his computer up with songs. He'd find obscure songs that most people have never heard of.

My dad loved NASCAR. It used to drive me crazy when I was a kid. I never understood what was so interesting about watching a bunch of people drive around in a circle really fast for hours. I've grown to like it more now. It broke his heart when Dale Earnhardt died.

When my dad would hear of someone in need, he would work to try and help that person and their family out. He wouldn't always know exactly how to go about doing that, but he would try his best. He would talk to people and try to get donations or work on setting up benefits.

My dad was so good hearted and compassionate. People, including some of his own family members, would take advantage of his kind heart. He would give away every penny he had. My mother finally had to put her foot down because he was giving money to people that weren't doing anything to help themselves. My dad finally realized that giving money to people that refused to work wasn't helping those people at all. It pained him to tell them no, but he knew that it was better for them.

I love my dad and I will always miss him. I pray that I will be able to live my life in ways that honor him and would make him proud. I pray that I will be able to keep his memory alive in my children.

"Someday when we meet up yonder, we'll stroll hand in hand again, in a land that knows no sorrow. Blue eyes cryin in the rain."

Friday, July 31, 2009

I want you to want me

It's reunion time again. I've spent much of the past decade or so trying to avoid people. Now that I'm getting back into the world, I'm realizing why I left in the first place. Let me try to explain.

I was an extremely shy child. I would even go so far as to say that I should have had some sort of professional help or some sort of intervention when I was younger. I was uncomfortable talking to my parents. I was never truly comfortable around the neighborhood kids. It didn't help that the neighborhood kids thought that I was stuck up because I was so...quiet and removed for lack of better words. I was afraid they wouldn't like me so I tried to stay by myself. But because I stayed by myself instead of playing with them, it made them not like me. Oh...we developed friendships eventually. But I always sensed that I would never be part of their inner circle. There are several times that I remember being left out or picked last. Just kids being kids. But it certainly didn't help my already fragile self esteem.

Growing up, I continued to spend a good deal of time by myself. In the summers, I stayed up late (I usually didn't get to sleep until the sun came up). I would usually be going to bed when the neighborhood kids were getting up. I'd be waking up when they were going inside for dinner. I'm not saying it was the best plan, but it's just what it was. I watched movies. I listened to music. I created my own little world where I wouldn't have to deal with the hurt and insecurity that I felt. If I didn't put myself out there, there was no way I could be hurt. Now, I was quite young so I'm sure that's not what I was thinking. It's only been recently that I've realized that that was basically what it boiled down to.

I had few friends. Not because I couldn't get friends, but because I chose to only spend time with a few people. I spent a great deal of time and effort even as a child trying really hard to keep those friends. I always felt that I wasn't anything special enough to keep a friend. I have always made it clear that I would be there for them if they needed me and I always was. I don't remember one instance in which any of them was there for me when I was having a hard time.

Clearly, in my mind, they considered me only a back up fair weather friend. Someone to have fun with when no one else was available.

Fast forward to when I began dating. I spent a great deal of time and effort trying hard to be what that person needed and wanted. I abandoned all pride and any shred of self worth that I had simply to make him happy. This didn't end with him. I did this through every relationship I had for many years. What guy remains interested in a girl that literally lives her life only to make him happy? It sounds nice in the beginning to them, but in reality it actually sucks. People need challenges and common interests and mutual respect among many other things to make any relationship work.

This wasn't exclusive to my dating relationships. I lacked friends and I needed friends. I would find ways to insinuate myself into situations in which certain people would be in just so that I would have the opportunity to get to know people. I didn't know HOW to go about making friends so I schemed and planned and managed to get some friends. Again, I never felt truly comfortable in the group. I tried so hard. I wanted them to need me as much as I needed them. I'm sure that all my efforts simply pushed people away. I didn't realize that then.

I was accused of being manipulative by several people...guys I dated, people I was trying to be friends with, others. I didn't understand that. I was only trying to be what they wanted me to be so that they wouldn't leave. I felt that I had put myself out there and did everything I could for people and I expected them to always be there for me. But, time and again I found myself feeling alone and unhappy. I felt like an outsider no matter who I spent time with. I have never had a real best friend...someone that will put up with your tear filled midnight calls when you are fighting with your boyfriend, someone that will come to your house and coach you through your anxieties when you are starting a new job, someone that can just as easily and happily go out drinking and partying with you one night to being your personal savior the next night, someone that will defend you to others when someone tells lies about you, someone that can make you feel comfortable just being you.

I've never had someone, especially as an adult, that I thought would love to grab a pizza and spend the night at my house watching movies and just being silly. I'm jealous of women that have friendships like that. As an adult it's down right impossible to develop friendships. I've joined the ladies group at my son's school and have gone to the socials and volunteered to work with them, but I still feel like an outsider.

Don't get me wrong. I don't feel like a victim. I don't view myself as a victim. I certainly don't ask for sympathy or any silly bullshit like that. The reason I chose to stop pursuing friendships several years ago is because I have felt betrayed all too often by people that claimed to be my friends. I have never felt truly comfortable with people. While I don't feel like a victim, I also don't view myself as a manipulator. Looking back, I can understand how people can believe that of me. However, all I've ever wanted was to have people that I could talk to, feel comfortable with whether we were going to dinner and a movie, going to a concert, hanging out in from of the tv, having a few drinks somewhere, or if any of us is having a difficult time.

I started to think that maybe I just held people up to some impossible to attain standard and was always let down. But, I don't think so. Friends are people that can make you feel loved without ever needing to say "I love you." Friends are people that allow you to be yourself and love you for it. Friends will offer advice and seek advice from you. Friends will not ignore you (which is what I get a lot of even now...and, even as an adult, it's hurtful). Friends will be your sounding board and expect you to be theirs.

In my husband I have found someone who accepts me as I am, but expects me to continually grow as I accept him and expect him to grow. In him I have found someone who challenges me every day as I challenge him. He loves me for me.

Are there any others out there that can accept me as I am? I doubt anyone will call me manipulative these days because I no longer work so hard to put myself in their path. Either you want to get to know me or you don't. Either you like me or you don't. As badly as I'd like to have close friends to spend time with and share stories with, I refuse to change who I am for others anymore. Take me as I am or not at all.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Stand up, Step up, or Shut up!

I get it. Politics suck. Politicians suck. I've never seen a politician that I trust. You are stupid if you believe one word of what comes out of their mouths. Not one of them can be trusted. Oh, they may start out with good intentions, but once they get in the game there isn't one of them that stays in it for honest motives. Not one.

Now, you don't like the way the country is being run. Do something about it. You don't like that we seem to be heading towards government run health care system, write your congressmen. You don't like H.R. 45: Blair Holt's Firearm Licensing and Record of Sale Act of 2009, write your congressmen. If you think that H.R. 757: To redesignate the Federal building and United States Courthouse located at 200 East Wall Street in Midland, Texas as the "George H. W. and George W. Bush United States Courthouse and George Mahon Federal Building" is a huge fucking waste of taxpayer funds and time, WRITE TO YOUR CONGRESSMEN. If you do not agree with something our government is doing, write to them...start a movement...get a petition going.

What I would like for you to do, however, is stop fucking bitching to me about it. On some points I may agree with you and others I do not. Either way, I'm not the person to complain to. When I get pissed about the asshats in charge doing something else that I don't approve of, I fire off a heated my elected officials. I make my voice heard. Now, sure, sometimes I am the minority and their vote goes the other way, but at least I have let them know how I feel. And, let me just say that when writing to your elected officials, back up your arguments with facts, not hearsay, not media spun bullshit, not threats. Give logical, well thought out reasoning. Encourage others to do the same and MAYBE WE CAN GET THOSE FUCKERS TO ACTUALLY REPRESENT US FOR A CHANGE INSTEAD OF JUST SAYING THEY DO.

My point in this whole thing is LEAVE ME THE FUCK OUT OF IT. I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR OPINION. All you succeed in doing is irritating me and weighing the pros and cons of a prison sentence for stomping you into the ground.

Thank you and God Bless America!

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

How Deep Is Your Love

The past few weeks I've been fairly busy. I work all day and then I was going to classes 2-3 nights per week. Then, Little Red, my 8 year old, went to California for 11 days with his dad. So, LR and I haven't spent a lot of time together lately and it was bugging both of us. He got back from his trip 2 days ago. Last night after we all went to bed, I got up and went to lay in his bed for a bit. He asked me "Why aren't you sleeping with Pere?" I told him that I just wanted to come lay down with him for a little while because I had missed him so much. He said "You really do love me!"

Dramatic much?

Me: Of course I love you

LR: Would you love me if I killed people? (definitely my kid)

Me: Yes

LR: Would you love me if I killed everyone? (should I be concerned?)

Me: Yes. I would love you. I wouldn't like the choices you've made, but I would love you. Why are you asking these questions?

LR: I just wanted to see how deep your love is

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

My Name is My Name is.........

I understand that there are A LOT of people in the world. I understand that you meet throngs of people each day and can't be bothered to actually remember everyone's name. However, you should make a fucking point of learning and committing to memory the names of the fucking people that PAY YOU, that MAKE SURE YOUR BENEFITS ARE CORRECT, THAT PROTECT YOU FROM THE ASS CLOWNS THAT ARE YOUR BOSSES THAT WANT TO FORCE YOU TO USE VACATION TIME FOR A DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENT INSTEAD OF SICK TIME. Yes. These people's names you should remember. Make a point of it. Use it when you meet us for the first time. Write it down. Take a picture of us, write our name on it, and tape it up next to the picture of your family you keep at your desk. Because if you continue to call me by someone else's name even though you've been here for a year, I did your orientation, I answer your phone calls and emails about your insurance problems, I visit your office several time each year with important information, I harass you about getting your training done each and every month, and I'm the one that makes sure that you have fucking working air condition in the middle of the fucking summer when it's over 100 degrees outside...I promise you I'll make sure you'll never get another paycheck. I promise you that I'll lose your insurance enrollment forms. I promise you that the air condition will never work in your office again except during the coldest months of the year when I will make sure that it's set to 10 degrees.

Learn my name! I am but one person. I have to learn all 130 of your names. Don't fuck with me.

Friday, June 19, 2009

If it's in the computer, it must be so

Yesterday I went to the doctor. I don't ever really mind going to the doctor. I usually Yesterday was no exception. The new medical assistant was taking my vitals and was asking me questions to verify that I was, in fact, me. However, she asked WAAAAYYYYY more questions than anyone ever has there.

Ass Clown Medical Assistant: Do you know your birthdate?

Me: Yes, I do.

ACMA: What is it?

Me: 1-28-71

ACMA: Are you sexually active?

Me: Define "active"

ACMA: Are you having sex?

Me: Well, not right now. That would be awkward, wouldn't it?

ACMA: I need to put down something.

Me: My husband and I are rarely together awake without the kids. What do you think? But, maybe once or twice a year we manage to get our groove on. Geez.

ACMA: Let's've had a tonsilectomy, a ooectomy, a google-ectomy, LEEP, CS-1.

Me: *blank stare*

Me: *blink* Ummm...okay.

ACMA: You've been pregnant 4 times and you have 3 children?

Me: No

ACMA: The computer says you've been pregnant 4 times.

Me: Yes, I have been. But, I have 2 children.

ACMA: The computer says you have 3 living children.

Me: That would be incorrect then.

ACMA: So, you were pregnant 4 times?

Me: Yes.

ACMA: The computer says you have 3 children at home.

Me: Well, if you want to get fucking technical about it, yes. However, I can tell you with a great fucking deal of certainty that I only have 2 living children. Thank you so much for brightening my day.

ACMA: I'm sorry ma'am. I'm just going by what the computer says.

Me: Can we move this along? I'd like to go slit my wrists now.

ACMA: Let's see...your tests came back abnormal in 1998 and in 2008. Is that right?

Me: If that's what the computer says.

ACMA: Alrighty, let's take your blood pressure!

Me: Is this a joke?

ACMA: What?

Me: You seriously go through all of that and THEN you want to take my blood pressure?

ACMA: Haha!

Now, once that ass clown left the room, everything was fine. The doctor came in and the usual crazy went on.

My doctor talks like the guy from the Micro Machine commercials. Really fucking fast. It's like she main lines Starbucks extra caffeinated extra venti 6 word coffees. It's funny. So she comes in:

Micro Machine Doctor: Heyhowareyouyou'relookinggoodwow!

Me: Hey! Thanks!

MMD: Youlostweightyoulookgood

Me: Yeah. Thanks

MMD: Howarethekids?

Me: Great

MMD: Welllet'sseeyouhadanatypicalcellonyourlasttestsowe'llrunthetestthistimeandgofromthere

Me: Okie dokie. Sounds good

MMD: Whatkindofbirthcontrolareyouusing?

Me: Abstinence. We hardly spend time together

MMD: *laughs* Couldyoutalktomy18yearoldpatients? *laughs*

Me: *laughs*

Then the whole exam thing was bizarre in and of itself because she and her nurse proceeded to chat with each other and with me and I'm just like...."Could we possibly wait until I'm dressed and don't have my legs in stirrups to have this discussion?" More laughter.

Now, MMD and I did have that "I need to make sure that I never get pregnant again" talk. She went over several things, but she feels quite strongly that I have been through a lot in my life and really my husband should man up and just get the fucking vasectomy.

I love her

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

"What Made You So Shy?"

I'm taking acting classes. I, right? Anyway, acting is something that I've always wanted to do, but have allowed that overwhelming fear of speaking in front of people keep me from so much as trying it. Just the mere thought of standing in front of people and having to speak made my stomach go in knots and makes me want to throw up. Well, over the past few years I've made some progress. I wouldn't say that I'm ready to give any major speeches, but I can at least get my fat ass up and talk. If I say something stupid, I can laugh at myself instead of walking in front of a bus. The embarassment truly isn't as bad as you would think. Hell, cancer is bad....war is bad...embarassment is really nothing.

That first class where I had to stand up and introduce myself and give a little information about why I was interested in acting was the worst. That was the first step. Nearly 8 or 9 weeks later, I have to say that I am more confident. Oh, I absolutely get a case of nerves before I get up there, but it's nothing like it used to be. I'm able to make eye contact when speaking. I'm able to form coherent thoughts. I am discovering that not only do I enjoy acting, but I actually have some talent. Go fucking figure.

This past week I went to my first Improv class. Now, although I've gotten more comfortable performing in front of people, I have to say that just the mere word Improv makes me nervous. I can't even think of it without getting myself worked into a near deathly panic. But, I actually enjoyed the class. I had to get up in front of class and tell them what experience I had with acting (virtually none...unless you want to include working at hotels for years...boy, do hotel employees tell whoppers on the spot all day, every day), why I was interested in acting, when I became interested, etc. Well, I got up and was surprisingly more confident and not really all that uncomfortable compared with the very first acting class I had taken weeks before.

I have been interested in acting all my life. I used to act in my room at home. My cousin would come up with stories and we'd act them out. He filmed one of them when we were about 10 years old or so. It was great. I loved it. But, I was already pretty shy and as I got older I only got more shy. When I told the class this the Improv coach asked "What made you so shy?" That question actually kind of threw me for a loop because I never really gave it a lot of thought. But, it's nearly all I've thought about since he asked.

Let's see....what made me so shy......

She never wanted children. He wanted a lot of children. I was the compromise. All of their hopes and dreams were squarely on my shoulders. She expected a lot. She set the bar really high and I was never able to quite reach it. I learned early that it was a lost cause, but I still kept trying.
She has a certain strict set of rules that EVERYONE should live by and I was the only one under her control. And, control she did. So much so that she told me that if she died, I should just jump in the grave with her because I wouldn't be able to function without her.
Anytime I had an idea or made a plan or got excited about something that I wanted to do, I was basically shot down most of the time. "You can't do that," "You're not going to want to do that," and so on.
As I got older, I dated some of the most controlling guys a person could possibly meet. Just like she did, they dictated what I should wear, how much makeup to wear, who I could talk to, etc. Honestly, what the fuck was I thinking back then? Pretty much the worst thing that could happent to a female happened to me when I was 18. It took me YEARS to get past this. I spent some time single and it was all on me to do what I wanted. It was so freeing. It was wonderful. Still, the fear, the lack of self confidence, and the need to have someone's approval was always there.

What changed? What gave me the courage to begin down this path to what I hope will be fearlessness? Well, something pretty life changing occurred about 7 years ago. I told myself on that day that I wouldn't waste one more minute of my life on negativity. I began figuring out what I wanted to do. I began to slowly throw off those chains that have been placed upon me by those in my life that were keeping me from becoming the person I was meant to be.
Then, only a few months ago, I was slammed with a realization that was so powerful and so forceful that it truly felt like I was punched in the gut. Nothing I do will ever be good enough for her. She will never accept me for the person that I am. She will never like what I choose to do. It was gut wrenching to realize. But, I processed it and I came through it stronger and more determined to do whatever the fuck I wanted to do. I would force myself through the fear so that when I look back on my life I will be able to say that I had the guts to follow my dreams. Sure, I'm starting a bit late, but the point is that I'm doing it.

Now, I may never be a famous actress. I may never become rich as an actress. Neither of those things mean anything to me. I love acting. I absolutely love it. The more I do it, the more I want to do it. I'm getting impatient for the opportunity to actually have a complete body of work to do instead of just short scenes. But, I know that I'm really early on in my training and I need to keep it up. I'd like to be able to support my family with my work as an actress. If I could make at least what I'm making at my job now, I'd be thrilled. Anything more than that will send me running naked down the street squealing like a stuck pig in complete and total glee. But, if I never get an acting job. If all I do is train and go to audition after auditon and never get a part...I'll still be thrilled because I'm working towards something great. I'll be able to look back on my life and know that I worked hard, I enjoyed the ride, and I did what the fuck I wanted to do. There will be no more regrets.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Oh My God! I can't believe it's YOU!

So, I went to a junior high school reunion. Yes, that's right. I said JUNIOR high school. I thought it was bizarre myself. Anyway, I fully expected to get there and be bored. I know it's awful to say this, but I really had no interest in seeing any of those people again. It's not that I wish any of them any ill, but the past is the past and well, no need to drag out all those memories and shit.

Fuck it. I went. At first, I didn't recognize anyone. Seriously, I was looking around and there was absolutely no one that I saw that looked even vaguely familiar. Okay. So, my husband and I had paid to be there and there was liquor and food and we had each other. We got a couple of drinks and started chatting with each other. I was perfectly okay with talking to my husband. He's so cute. (Hi honey! You are the sexiest man alive. You rock my world, baby. *blows kisses in your direction*) Anyway, I look over and see the person I was looking forward to seeing friend Bobby. (Sorry, but you will forever be Bobby to me. I have no idea who this Bob person is) Okay, so it was awkward at first with everyone. Once I had a few drinks in me, I felt more comfortable and was able to chat with people. Still, I recognized almost no one. People would come up to me with that whole "Oh my God! It's been so long! How've you been?" And I would stand there and do my best to convince this person that I remembered them. Truth is, until I saw their name tags, I had no fucking clue who 3/4 of those people were.
As a bonus, those of us that paid ahead of time got to have one of our year book pictures on our name tag. And, as a double bonus, they seemed to have chosen the worst picture of the 3 year book pictures. Awesome! My husband just kept telling me that I looked like a boy. Fucker!

All in all, the night went well. I enjoyed myself. I didn't get as hammered as I ordinarily would have so I didn't make the usual ass of myself. I didn't dance. I didn't take my clothes off. I didn't make out with anyone. I didn't end up in the pool...although I tried hard to get Bobby into the pool. I even promised that if he went in, I'd get in. But, it didn't happen.

As much as I really didn't want to go, I had fun.

My 20 year high school reunion is in just a few weeks. I can't wait! Again, there are only a few people I have any interest in seeing, but what the hell. I may actually make an ass of myself at that reunion. I can't wait to share it with you.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Sweet Dreams are NOT made of these

Red, my 8 year old, is a sleepwalker. This is merely a progression (I suppose) from the night terrors he's had since he was a baby. If you've never experienced a baby (or a child...or anyone for that matter) having night terrors, count yourself as very lucky.

When Red was only a few months old I was woken up by an ear shattering scream from him that one could only assume meant that he'd been stabbed. I went from dead sleep to leaping in 3 strides into his room. When I got there, his eyes were open and he was just screaming. I checked him from head to toe and there was no sign of any injury. He was still screaming. I changed him, he continued screaming. I tried to give him a bottle, he continued screaming. I rocked him, he continued screaming. I sang to him, he continued screaming. I put him in the car and drove him around, he continued screaming. His eyes were wide open, but he was, in fact, still asleep. This only happened a few times, thank GOD. It is a helpless feeling when there is nothing you can do to console your child and he can't even tell you what the problem is.

As he got older and was walking on his own, well, then he began sleepwalking. I have to make sure that all the doors are locked and the keys put somewhere that he can't get to them. In the past he has jumped out of bed and run down the hallway screaming "Momma! Momma!" My room is right next to his and he flew past it. I've found him beating on the back door screaming for me. He's run into the living room screaming for his grandmother. He has even walked into the kitchen thinking it was the bathroom. Thankfully, my husband managed to redirect the boy to the bathroom before he actually peed on the kitchen floor.

I can even tell when Red is about to be sick because he talks in his sleep the night before he gets a fever.

Lately, his sleepwalking activities have go like this...I am suddenly woken up by Red yelling "No! No! No! No! No! No! No!" and then he runs down the hallway. I immediately jump up and attempt to catch him before he gets down the hall, but don't usually make it. I call out his name and he stops, turns, and walks to me and hugs me. I ask him if he's okay. He typically mumbles something unintelligible. Then we walk to his room and he crawls back in bed. The next morning as I'm dragging ass because of exhaustion and he's all smiles and energy, I ask him about it and he has no memory of any of it.

These are just a few of the sleepwalking/sleep talking instances that have gone on in his life. His father is also a sleepwalker/sleeptalker so I suppose that it's inherited. His father actually slept walked out of the house when he was only 4 years old. They found him several blocks away walking along a canal. This is why I'm very careful about locking everything and keeping the keys where he can't get to them. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when he gets older.

He goes through phases. It won't happen for a long time and then we'll have several nights in a row. Also, when he goes through a difficult time (his dad and I are divorced and his dad is not always...the most reliable person) is when his sleep walking takes on the frantic running and yelling. He's not violent or anything, though.

All of this makes for a difficult time for me to sleep. I'm always listening for him...afraid that one night I won't hear him get up and he'll either get out or he'll hurt himself accidentally.

I know I make it sound awful. It's not the harrowing experience that it was when he was a baby. Now he's aware that he sleep walks and when he hears my voice or my husband's voice, he doesn't necessarily wake up, but he calms down and redirects himself, almost as if he's aware while still asleep that he's sleepwalking. It's as if he can control what's going on. Strange, but true.

Anyway...this is a long, boring post. Sorry. This is what happens when I only get an hour of sleep.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Some Day My Prince Will Come....NOT!

Why do women insist on playing stupid games with men? Why? Men are not psychics (the majority of them, anyway). They have no idea that when you say "I'm fine," that you really are upset that he didn't plan anything special for the evening. They truly believe that you are fine and everything is good. They don't know that you are hoping for roses and champagne and a romantic carriage ride instead of grabbing a nice dinner and going to a movie. Most guys do the best they can with the knowledge they have. If you want something special or out of the ordinary, you need to let him know. Don't expect that just because you casually mentioned 2 months ago how you wanted to take a pottery class that he's going to sign you up for one for your birthday.

Yes. There are those guys that are even more dense. You could give them a list of things that you want for Christmas complete with pictures, sizes, color preference, prices, which store/aisle/place in the aisle to find each item and they'll still say "I have no idea what to get you for Christmas." In those instances I suggest that you just go buy your own damn gifts, wrap them, and put your own name on it. He's just not going to get it.

Disney has planted this ridiculous notion in the female head that there are princes out there that will be romantic and we'll live "happily ever after." Hon, you can't depend on any guy to be your "happily ever after." You need to find what you are looking for within yourself. Guys are not romantic creatures by nature. They are (I hate to even say this since I'm a female myself) more logical and rational than most women. They look at a tree and see a tree. They don't look at a tree and imagine the two of you lounging on a picnic blanket under that tree sharing a bottle of champagne and having romantic moments. So, unless you tell your man exactly what the fuck you want, you shouldn't be fucking disappointed when you don't get it.

Bottom line, ladies. If you don't tell men what you want, they will never know. Don't get pissed at them because you said "You don't have to get me anything for my birthday," and he doesn't. That's completely your fault.

TELL THEM WHAT YOU WANT. SAY WHAT YOU MEAN! And, trust me...your relationship will be much better for it.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

A Breath Away

Your time with us was so brief, but you changed my life so profoundly in just those few precious moments. Although my broken heart will never mend, I refuse to be bitter or angry over losing you because it would tarnish the memory of the beautiful, precious time you spent with us. I do truly cherish each second I had with you.

My beautiful angel, I may not be able to hold you or even touch you, but I see you every day. I feel you here with me. You gave me hope when I thought all was lost. You taught me to see the beauty in everything. You gave me strength when I had none. You gave me courage to go on when all I wanted to do was curl up and die with you. I vowed on that day, April 18, 2002, to make every moment of the rest of my life mean something. In your memory, I embrace every breath. In your honor, I embrace life.

So, though you never got the chance to truly live, you have left your mark on this world and left your tiny footprint on my heart.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Dead Inside

I've been told that I'm dead inside. Honestly, the way I see it, it's not a bad thing. It's not that I don't FEEL. It's that I don't SHOW feelings and, ordinarily, I handle tragedy and sadness with humor. It's a coping mechanism for me. To everyone else, it looks like callousness. Fuck 'em.

Death and tragedy are a part of life. If I allow myself to let in all the crappy things that go on in this world, I would crumple into a heap and never be able to function again. It's not that things don't affect me as profoundly as they affect others, but crying about it and dwelling on it will not change anything. The dead are still dead, the sick are still sick, the poor are still poor, injustice is still out there, and there is no prince riding up on a white horse to save the maiden. So, my motto has simply become Suck It Up.

I cry. Sure, I do. It's rare, but it happens. When it happens, it's usually away from others. No need to subject others to that. I don't like discussing my feelings. I'm very much like a male in that regard. Life is too fucking short to lay around feeling sorry for yourself or others or beating someone else over the head with your sob story. Enjoy every moment that you can. The sucky parts of life are what makes the rest so great.


Saturday, April 11, 2009

Blame, Forgiveness, and Life

Looking back, it would be easy for me to blame myself for the bad things that happened to others in my life. It would be easy for me to blame myself for the losses I've experienced. But I won't do that. It wasn't my fault. Things happen because they happen. There are things that are out of our control and we have to accept that and move on. Yes. Bad things happen to good people. Bad things happen to all people. If we blame ourselves for the deaths or unhappiness or hurt of others, we would never be able to move on. We would stand still until the day we died and it would be unlikely that our souls would ever be at peace. I will not allow myself to linger in that dangerous area of blame. The pain of the loss is difficult enough without dragging myself down the path of self loathing and blame.

It is better to live my life as a person changed for the better by having known the person I've lost. Continuing to live my life to the fullest would be the greatest tribute to those that can no longer live. If the roles were reversed and I were the one not here instead of them, I would want them to not just go on with their lives, but to follow their dreams, follow their hearts, and take chances. Never stand still. Life is short enough as it is. Who knows, tomorrow it could be you that the world mourns. Would you want your loved ones to stop at that moment and linger in the pity and sadness over your loss? Or would you want them to deal with the grief and push through and find happiness again?

It's one thing to remember a person and keep them in your heart. It's another thing entirely to stop being who you are and essentially end your life when you lose someone. You may go through the motions, but you cannot truly live this way.

And, before anyone gets pissed at me, I have lost people close to me. I have lost a child and came very dangerously close to losing another. I know that overwhelming pain. I know that feeling of wanting to die with them. So, I'm not just being hateful by saying this. If you choose to let the pain swallow you, and it is absolutely a choice because to suggest anything else would mean that you have no control over your life, then you are choosing to leave your life unfinished.

Death is not fair. Life is not fair. We must play the hand we are dealt. Blaming God or fate or whatever or whoever you feel has taken this person away from you also keeps you from growing and dealing with the pain and it keeps you from moving on. We may never know the reasons why our loved ones are taken from us. Cursing God will not heal you. You must let go of the blame. You must let go of the anger.

Make no mistake. I'm not suggesting that you forget that person. We all want and need to be remembered. But rather than using all of your energy being sad, or angry, or blaming yourself or others, use that energy to live your best life. Honor that person by doing all of those things that you've always wanted to do. Don't make excuses. If that person had the opportunity to come back right now, I guarantee that they would make every moment count. So why don't you?

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Lose Yourself

Okay. I'm soooo sorry for the previous post. Just working through some of those anger issues I've told you about.

Anyway, I believe I have a hold on myself tonight. I should probably not share that sort of information, though.

Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted, one moment, would you cash it? Or just let it slip?

Yes, I went there. I am addressing things in my life and I am hellbent on trying out for all of the things that I have ever dreamed of doing. I am older than most people that start for their dreams, but whether 18, 38, or 55 why should I not go for it? Why wouldn't you? It's scary. It's definitely pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and putting yourself out there. Failure is more a possibility than success is, but if you don't grab at every chance then you will one day look back on your life and be filled with regret. I want to regret nothing past this point.

To those that know me, that is what's going on with me. This is why I'm doing things that you probably thought I never would. Things that just don't seem like me. You may see a crazy person. Sometimes that's what it takes. Mid life crisis? Maybe. But, I'll use whatever this is running through me to force myself to move forward. I no longer want complacency.

What are your dreams? What are your ambitions? What is keeping you from them? What will you see at the end when you look back on your life? Will there be dreams left unfulfilled simply because you were too afraid to try for them? Will you see failure, but be completely satisfied because at least you gave it your best shot? Will you see success beyond your wildest imaginings?

What will you see?

Monday, March 30, 2009

The greatest word in the English language (parental warning)

Fuck. I love the word. It's a beautiful word. It's short. It can be added to creating other beautiful meanings. It can enhance any experience (fucking awesome). It can emphasize a point(you are a fucking dillweed) Fuck is fucking brilliant. You can do so many things with fuck. Fuck has power. Fuck is sexy. Fuck is dirty. It's everything all at once. You can feel sexy, powerful, and dirty all at once...making it exactly like the true meaning of the word. Oh how I love fuck. There is simply nothing better than a well placed fuck, in every sense of that phrase. I would fuck fuck if I were a word. There's the whole exclamation when your pissed (FUCK!). There is the exclamation when you are in fucking Heaven (ohhhhhhh fuuuuuccccckkkkk). There is "fuck me," which can be used as an invitation, a demand, a statement in the heat of passion, or as a way to say that you are so far beyond screwed that the light from screwed would take 10 billion years to reach you.

Fuck is such an empowering word. I vow to use fuck every day in every way until we all learn to say fuck with pride and conviction.

Who's fucking with me?

Monday, March 23, 2009

In Hell

My 8 year old has been throwing words like hell and ass around lately. Now, I know what you are thinking...with a mother with a mouth like that, it's no wonder. I assure you that I don't use language like that around my children. My potty mouth is only used in adult company no where near tiny ears.

My little red head's fascination with cussing seems to have started about the same time I started letting him play with the neighborhood kids. My mother describes these children as "worldly." Yeah...whatever. Now my kid sits down at the computer and instead of looking up Chipmunk songs on You Tube or playing games on, he looks up Elmo's Gotta Gun on You Tube...and a host of other horrifying things no 8 year old should be looking up. I monitor his Internet use...I half expected to walk into the room and find him watching porn this afternoon. God help me! Plus the little tramp that just moved in next door (11 years old) seems to have a crush on my 8 year old. She torments that flirty, teasing sort of way. I was absolutely horrified to discover him in her house the other day. He is strictly forbidden from going into any of the neighbor's houses. That was the first time he's ever broken the rule. Clearly the little temptress is cunning. I thought I'd have a few more years before I had to worry about this sort of thing. Ugh!

So, impressing upon my little darling that that kind of language is unacceptable seems to be an uphill battle. He fell and scraped his arm today. So, he runs up and down the hallway sucking in and blowing out air a la Peter Griffin and yells "I'm in pain like I'm in hell!" He doesn't know pain just yet. But if he keeps throwing that word out, he will. Another shining example that he not only uses the word, but has that uncanny knack of using it at the most inappropriate of times...last week we met my in-laws for dinner. We sat at the table and the boy went under the table. I scooted over (thinking that he was going to the other side of the table) and accidentally kicked him. He screamed "OW!! What the hell?!" right as my in-laws walked up to the table. Yay! I'm so excited that my adorable little darling is honing his new vocabulary.

Okay...he's a straight A student. He's fucking brilliant. He's cute. He's absurdly intuitive for an 8 year old. But, he's not an adult. I joke that he's 8 going on 30. But he is really only 8. Only 8. Only 8!!!!!!!!! He's already asked me about sex. WTF?! That was a year ago. Help me!

I promise that nothing weird goes on in our house. Nothing nefarious. He's not up in the middle of the night watching Showtime or anything (I know because I'm up all hours of the night). But, surely, this can't be normal.

All of you that used to be 8 year old boys...let me hear from you. Is this normal? What did you think about when you were 8? I know I have friends that were geniuses (ummm...hello Valedictorian...I know you're here...GT students...Honors students...I know you come here because you are fascinated by the awesomeness that is me). Please tell me that your genius minds thought like this at 8 because I'm really starting to freak out here.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Weekend with Twilighters

The husband and I had a paranormal date night on Friday. We began the evening by heading to the Paraplex on Canal Blvd. We spent an hour or so wandering through the rooms of this 130 year old former mortuary. It was interesting. If you want to know more about the experience, please read the Paraplex entry on the other blog, Something Wicked This Way Comes.

After the Paraplex, we had a quick bite and then had daiquiri's. We were just killing time until 10pm when the Twilight DVD release party began at Borders. At least I was...I'm sure he was dreading it.

Picture it...Borders at 10pm. We walk in and I'm given the slip of paper that will allow me to get in line for the DVD at 11:30. Joy. Also, on the table in front of the woman handing this slip out is a host of Twilight-related stuff. I grabbed the GQ with Robert Pattinson gracing the cover, Nylon with Kristen Stewart on the cover, a Twilight calendar, and the Director's book about making the movie. I head upstairs to where the festivities are supposed to take place. I really was only here out of curiosity. On the second floor there were teens and tweens everywhere. A few parents mulled around. There were a few Twimoms (I had never actually seen one before that night). One Twimom actually brought her own life size cardboard cut out of Edward. I'm not kidding. I was embarassed for her...apparently she didn't have the sense to be embarrassed.

Around 10:20 the employees gathered everyone around and started asking trivia questions. I wasn't playing because...well, I think this means more to all those kids than it does to me. I turned to the husband at one point and told him that I felt like a jackass for even being there...this sent the 16 year old girl behind us into a fit of hysterical laughter. When the kids couldn't answer the questions I'd whisper the answers so whoever heard me first could get it. After a few minutes of this I went and sat downstairs in the cafe to wait for the actual DVD release.

I couldn't make it. I was so tired from not sleeping for days and from the daiquiri that I just paid for the few things I had and went home. Besides...the Borders only sold the 2-disc special edition DVD. I went to Target the next day and got the 3-disc special edition DVD. Yay.

So, bottom line...I felt like a huge jackass staying up just to watch a gaggle of teens and tweens go all gaga over Twilight. Team Edward shirts were everywhere.

On a side note...there was a rage filled moment when I was in the cafe trying to read my magazines when I almost beat the woman sitting across from me with her cell phone. She was droning on and on to whoever about all the kids there and how she was just here to see what it was all about and that there was all kinds of Twilight stuff for sale and she was going to get posters and blah blah blah. After about 20 mimutes of this...doin my deep breathing exercises, I decided that it would be safer if I just went ahead on home because this was not going to turn out well for anyone if I stayed.

The husband did cartwheels all the way to the door.

Friday, March 20, 2009

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...

While the rest of you fuckers are in the land of Nod, I am 2:30 in the fucking morning. I'm not sure why Robert Frost poems run through my head when I'm awake all hours of the night. It's bizarre. I wish my brain could find something more interesting to recite to me over and over besides Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening. Hell, even Fire and Ice would work better for me. But no...I gotta sit here and think about a freakin horse thinking it's queer to stop in the middle of fucking nowhere in the fucking snow with miles to go before I sleep.

Why do I know no one on Twitter? I am forced to try and guess which fake celebrity tweet may actually be the real celeb. Why? I can no longer function in the real world due to lack of sleep so I'm living vicariously through the nonsensical tweets of people I've never met and will never meet. I don't really care what they do, mind you. But their lives are much more interesting than mine. Besides, it gives me something to do when I'm not sleeping.

How long can a person go without sleep before her mind breaks? I think I'm on my way to finding out. I'm already not able to control my internal filter. I get filled with rage. So far, I have not physically harmed anyone. But I can't make any promises unless I get sleep...and soon. Oh my God! elusive bitch! When I find you, I am wrapping myself around you and clutching you to me as a lover.

I've been trying to write. There are bits of stories, bits of songs, and bits of poems running through my head, but my brain can't function enough to form them completely enough for paper.

Why am I being punished?

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

And miles to go before I sleep

Here I am...awake. It's midnight. Usually I am long asleep by now. Of course, I also wake several times every night for no good reason. By 4:30am I just give in and get the hell out of bed. It sucks. Last night I managed 3 hours of sleep before I woke up at 12:30 and lay there for the next couple of hours and gave myself a headache. The rest of my family is sleeping. I'm jealous.

It isn't that I'm not tired. Oh my God! I am so tired. But the moment my body hits the bed (or the sofa), I am wide awake. What the hell? I think this is how people go stark raving mad.

So that is why I am awake after midnight, drinking a Bud Light and listening to Eminem. Again...WTF?!!! Friggin sleepless nights making me crazier.

I'm on Twitter now! Joy! I so needed another medium to occupy my time. All these places to check to see if anyone sent me messages or whatever. It can be exhausting and so addictive. I may never sleep again. Not that a lot of people talk to me on any of these things. Why would they? The easiest way to describe me...B.O.R.I.N.G. or another way S.C.A.R.Y. Take your pick.

I used to keep up with the news and world events. But, I'm so fucking tired of hearing about how awful the economy is and speculating on when things when turn around and all these fucking companies getting all this taxpayer money and still doing business the same way that got them into trouble in the first place...and the war, and all that bullshit....I quit watching the news. I quit reading most of the news. I started keeping up with some entertainment news...just for something different. All it has done for me was solidify my hatred for all things paparazzi. They are not people and do not deserve the same rights as the rest of us. People that intrude on other people's private lives so maliciously should be beaten with their cameras, stomped into a bloody pile, nursed back to health, and then have battery cables attached to them at various points. The process should be repeated until those that were harassed are should just continuously be repeated. long as we are talking crazy every crazy obsessed fan of anyone...I'm talking the show up wherever the celebrity of choice is/hang outside of the celebrity's house or hotel/grabbing on them/spitting on them/yelling at them/calling them by the character's name crazy bullshit.....GET A LIFE! Frick. You and the paparazzi suck the life and enjoyment out of everything. Let them be. They probably don't mind a "Hello. Good to meet you. You were great in...." But then walk the fuck away. I understand the longing to get to know someone better, but fuck. If they WANT to spend more time with you...they'll invite you to join them. Don't make a fucking spectacle of yourself.

Now that both of you (my followers) have read this...I expect that you will adhere to the rules set forth.

Bite me...and remember...I haven't slept in days. So suck it if you don't understand.

Friday, March 13, 2009


I've given it a lot of thought. And, by a lot of thought I mean...I've stopped doing anything for my family, I toss some food at the kids occasionally (only to keep the authorities from finding things to prosecute me for), stopped watching television, stopped cleaning the house...and I only go to work because I couldn't post this if I didn't have electricity.

So...given a lot of thought and I really think that I would totally rock as a famous person. Now...I must find something to be famous for. Hmmmm....any suggestions? I mean apparently you can be famous for just about anything...getting pregnant, trying to stab someone with a slotted spoon, walking naked along a rail line carrying a jelly donut. Literally what should I do?

I could act. I think I would love being an actor. Except I am petrified of the thought. I've been on stage in front of hundreds of people before and did just fine. I've sung, I've danced. I've played piano for crowds. I think I may have acted somewhere at some point (although, my memory...oh my poor memory). If I could get over the fright of having a bunch of people standing around with lights trained on me and having to do a scene, I think I could BE SOMEBODY!

How does a person audition? I would probably just die of a heart attack on the spot. Think of it You see someone you are interested work yourself into a complete fucking crazy person trying to think of some way to make that person like you enough to give you a chance. You go on your first date are so nervous you say inappropriate things, sweat so profusely that they are sure you have a medical problem...probably drink too much because you're nervous...and then puke all over him/her. Then when they tell you that it's just not going to work out, you wonder what you did wrong and why will no one like you? Why me, God?! Why? Or better yet...they don't ever call you again and you are left hanging. Audition. It sounds like such a dirty word. There are people watching you, trying to decide if your look is right (or could be made to look right), if your voice is right, if your mannerisms are right, if you have that "hotness" that all the studios are looking for...basically, it's a meat market...are you the right cut.

So, is it fame that I'm craving? Not so much. I have anger issues and doubt that I would be able to control myself if a life sucking prick followed me into a store and snapped pictures of me buying tampons. Seriously...the next series of pictures would show me lunging for the guy's eyes with the above mentioned slotted spoon. So, maybe not fame...although, fame does tend to bring more I guess I'd have to suck it up and take the bad with the incredibly fucking awesome.

Could I be a studio trained media whore, though? I'm not so sure. I know that I would be contractually obligated to be seen and say certain things "I loved working with so and so, " "The whole cast is like my family," "This movie is truly a work of art." How often do you hear actors saying..."This movie is crap. These people suck. I hope they all die a slow, painful death. Seriously, that bitch may have a smoking hot body, but she can't form a sentence...or read one." To me, THAT would make a great interview. you don't get to work with those people again and there might be lawsuits...but you'd at least be interesting. I would be too tempted to mess with interviewers and give random information about nothing having to do with anything.

Oh my God. The fun I would have. Now...can anyone give me any ideas as to how to get over my fears of auditioning? And where to get an agent? And perhaps a hit man, because I don't handle rejection or criticism well? Anyone?

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

If I had it to do over again...

I would travel the world

I would have more lovers

I would have more friends

I would have fewer steady boyfriends (none would work fine for me...they were all asshats)

I would climb mountains

I would swim with dolphins....and sharks

I would sky dive

I would never take no for an answer

I would be a happier young adult

I would live for me

I would have recorded an album/CD (only need the one...don't care if anyone ever buys it)

I would read more books (not sure how this would have been possible...always an avid reader)

I would not care what people thought (when I was younger...I don't care now...they can all bite me)

I would be in much better physical shape

I would run marathons

I would run with the bulls

I would learn many languages

I would never stop playing the piano

I would never bend to someone else (see bite me above)

I would never spend more than I have

I would publish my poetry

I would be in a movie (preferably a good movie)

Let's face it...if I had it to do over again....there is very little that I wouldn't do

And...I'm starting now.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

I'm really much too young to matriculate

Okay. I'm 38. I'm married. I'm a parent. I'm a homeowner. I have a full time job that doesn't involve my children. I get it. Not your typical college student. Well, these days, I guess I kind of am since EVERYONE and their grandmother seems to be heading back to class. But, I feel young. I feel like I'm in my early to mid 20's. I feel like I could even head back to high school. High school would be preferable to statistics. sucks hard. It's frying my brain. Every moment I spend with these stupid little symbols and sample standard variances and unions and intersections make me age another 6 months. I should be 925 years old by the end of the semester. Oh good. Then I can fulfill that lifelong dream of marrying Yoda. Stupid Star Wars Wii game that my son has been playing relentlessly for 2 straight days.

Who came up with this crap? Was adding and subtracting and multiplying not enough for them? Was someone sitting around truly bored one day and decided...lemme come up with some new and horrifying ways to torment people. Hell...I could have come up with better and more rewarding ways to torture people than this. brain dies a slow and painful death because some jerkoff decided that basic math wasn't enough to explain the world. Ooooo. Do you think this guy died happy? He couldn't have had a very satifying sex life because hell, I would have at least been doing that instead of inventing new math. I think falling from a moving truck and getting my arm snagged in the window of a passing car and dragging me 15 blocks before running over my torso and then being eaten alive by a pack of wolves would have made for a much more interesting death than being made to absorb this crap until my brain protests and shuts down.

Suck it, suck it, suck it you stupid statistics creating asshole! I hope you rot in hell!

Friday, February 27, 2009

Suck It

Little Red declared that when grows up he was going to start a band called Kiss My Ass. Have I mentioned that he's 8 years old? I don't know where he gets this stuff. The Catholic school that I'm selling body parts to pay for, I suppose. I tried desperately NOT to so much as smirk until I impressed upon him that that language will not be tolerated. Then I went into the next room and closed the door and laughed my ass off.

Now, my friend and I decided today that we're going to start our own band. We're going to call it Suck It. So, one day in the future you may see a concert tour Kiss My Ass opening for Suck It. We are seeking sponsors...we doubt Nickelodeon will pick it up. But, if we wait just a few years we think AARP might sponsor us. Or maybe Viagra.

LR and I bought some new stuff for ourselves today. Rare for me, not so much for him. I bought new CDs and he bought Bakugan...think Pokemon, but instead of cards they are tiny plastic balls that when laid on a magnetic surface pop open into some sort of creature with a point value on it's least that's about all I can gather from it. Huge choking hazard if you have little ones in the house. Of the 4 or 5 CDs I bought for me, I thought that I should probably make sure that one of them was appropriate for little ears...since all of the rest of them have a parental warning. So, I bought the Jonas Brothers. I played one of my CDs in the car...and it wasn't bad language or anything. LR loved it. Then I decided to put on the Jonas my kid can get into kid music. Well, I start dancing and singing. I'm having a good time and thinking "Okay. The Jonas Brothers are not so bad." I turn to look at LR to see if he's enjoying the music and he's making that yawn face and staring out the window. He asks me to put Muse back on. What's the problem here? Peppy music that's geared towards kids. Hmmmmm. I should have gotten Miley Cyrus or something. Maybe it's that the Jonas Brothers sing to their legions of FEMALE FANS. So, I guess I didn't think that purchase through. Now I guess I'll be the one listening to the Jonas Brothers until my 1year old Doodlebug is old enough to appreciate the music. She'll probably be as warped as her brother and would rather listen to Linkin Park or something when she's 4 instead of anything Disney would put out. So, I'll be the only one listening to the Jonas Brother...or worse yet...High School Musical. Maybe someone should just put a bullet in me now.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Never Enough

Somewhere in the back of my mind it's always been there. Where did my complete lack of self worth come from? Where did my need to become what others wanted me to be in my teens and early 20's come from? Why was I hopelessly co-dependent back then? Why have I never had self confidence?

It has all been coming back to me. It came crashing down on me last night. She was always overly critical of Everyone and Everything, but especially of me. She still is. She has never had confidence in me. She has never believed in me. Therefore, I have never believed in myself. She criticized EVERY decision I've ever made. She criticized everything about hair, my face, my weight, my clothes...everything. She used to say that if she died, I should jump into the grave with her because I wouldn't be able to survive without her. Today she criticizes my parenting skills, my abilities as a wife, still the way I look and dress, the decisions I make. Nothing I do is right. She takes the life out of everything for me. Everything. It doesn't matter what I do or what I say, nothing I do will ever be enough for her. She will never be able to accept me as I am. She will never offer words of encouragement. She will never see the pain that she's caused me and see what unimaginable horrors that I've endured over the years because of the overwhelming need I had to be what others wanted me to be. She will never understand that. Why is it so hurtful even as I am staring at 40? I'm not enough. I'm never going to be enough. Not for her. Never in her eyes.

I've developed a fairly thick skin over the years so that it doesn't affect me as often as it used to. But, from time to's like getting the wind knocked out of you. This time is the worst because I came to the complete and total realization last night that it will never get better. I'm not enough and I never will be. The only way to save myself in this situation is to find a way to...push her out of my life. Can that be right? It seems so extreme...even in the name of self preservation. But I can't survive the gut wrenching depression that threatened to take my life years ago. I'm finally at a point in my life where happiness is woven into almost every fiber of my life. I can't afford to let this drag me back down under the depths of the crushing weight of pain the she causes me. I hate being around her. I hate talking to her. I find myself wishing horrible things...and that is truly an awful feeling...but, sadly, more bearable than the way she makes me feel with her condescending bullshit.

Now that I truly understand that I will never be enough, where do I go from here?

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Multiple methods

I've mentioned before that I was recently diagnosed with Type II diabetes. No big deal. Easily managed. May be life altering, but not life ending. So, I went to see the diabetic nurse (their term, not mine) to get information about having to test my blood sugar and the medications I'm on...blah...blah...blah. I wasn't born yesterday and I was already pretty well informed. But, staying true to the uncomfortable nature of my recent medical appointments at the hospital she asked what form of birth control I was using. I told her that my husband and I are practicing abstinence since the two of us are rarely home awake at the same time without the kids around. The most action I've gotten lately was an impure thought about a certain actor that plays a vampire in a movie I like to call Oh My God! I Totally Wish I Was That Chick In Twilight. Go me. After composing herself, this nurse proceeds to tell me that we need to use MULTIPLE METHODS of birth control (apparently, abstinence isn't enough) because a side effect of one of the medications I'm on is pregnancy. (This little tidbit should have been on the fucking fact, they can leave off the name of the medication and just put in large bold letters on the label THIS SHIT WILL MAKE YOU GROW PEOPLE!!! I had already been on this for 2 weeks!!!!!!!!) MULTIPLE METHODS. So, in addition to abstinence we should make sure that he's capped at all times and I'm dosing myself with Mirena AND a full months worth of the pill each know...just in case his sperm can somehow get out of his body (and I don't want to know how), catch the cross town bus, break into the house, locate me and not have me beat to death each one of those fuckers, make it through multiple layers of clothing...just to find one of my old, decrepit eggs sitting on a porch in there and somehow get the old biddy to be warm and welcoming. (Ewwww...that's a mental picture that even I don't need) That's one powerful fucking medication.

Let me say...I love my kids. Until recently, I wanted one more. But, you know what? I have 2 gorgeous, incredible children and that is more than enough for me. I have my family and I'm done. add a couple more methods to this madness...the husband will be fixed (either by a professional in the hospital or by me at home...his choice) and I plan to have (as my friend likes to say) everything scooped out and have a sacrificial burning in the corner to make sure that God (or Mother Nature or Buddha or Allah or whoever/whatever you believe in) doesn't play any more jokes at my expense.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Couple's night out during Mardi Gras Weekend...or Poor planning on my part

My husband and I decided to head to the French Quarter the Saturday before Mardi Gras. Now, for those of you that have never had the pleasure of visiting the Quarter the weekend before Mardi Gras, there is no way to describe it without using words such as cluster and ass clowns. But, if you can stand to be crammed onto a nasty, dirty street with thousands of sweaty drunk people in various states of undress....then this is the place for you. The Quarter during Mardi Gras is unlike the Quarter any other time.

My dearest husband and I took a taxi down there because we didn't want to have to deal with the impossible task of finding parking...and because we knew we wouldn't be in any shape to drive. A few drinks, a few bars, some rain and bitter fucking cold later, the husband turns into a raving bitch. Apparently, he doesn't like crowds....HELLO! This is NOT his first time in the Quarter at this time of year. What the hell did he think was going to happen...the crowds would part for us like the Red Sea? Yeah...and that reminds me....the crazy psychotic Christians that feel the need to carry crosses and signs on Bourbon Street at this time of year...complete with "heavenly" security guards that look like they just broke out of many drunk ass people have you converted? All you are doing is causing bottle necks in the middle of busy pedestrian traffic as people take get the whole Mardi Gras in New Orleans effect to bring back to their friends back home.

So, hubby comes completely unglued and looks like he's ready to start a fight. Joy. I called him names that make most women cringe, but I was completely justified. I mean...we went from having a blast and being silly together to him just being a butthead. We trudge through the rain and wind to Canal Street to try to find a cab. Here's where the poor planning comes in....

EVERYONE ELSE DOWN THERE WAS HAILING CABS! Cabs get to be VERY selective when there are literally thousands of people needing them. So, no luck on Canal Street. Stark raving bitch is literally having a melt down. My God! And they say women are dramatic. We start wandering towards the river and I see Harrah's Casino. Little lightbulb goes off...there are always cabs around there so we trek there and go inside to thaw out (did I mention I didn't have a jacket...and it was raining...and the arctic winds were a-blowing). We thaw out and head to the valet area where there are only a few people trying to hail cabs. After about 30 minutes, though, I'm noticing fewer and fewer cabs coming this way, but I see tons of them on the other side of we go back inside (no one asks for our ids...we both were a little insulted) and out the doors on the other side. Tons of cabs come down this street. least 50 other people trying to hail them. Cabs would fly by without even slowing down. Other cabs would stop and ask people where they were going and take off because they didn't want to go there. People were literally walking into the street in front of taxis to make them stop.

FINALLY...3 HOURS after we began this little search for a cab, we finally got in one and went home.

Needless to say, the husband never wants to do it again.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Stand and face the hounds of hell

I took Little Red, my eight year old, to a birthday party at a skating rink yesterday. While I used to enjoy skating when I was younger, now when I go there, I just feel all dirty. The place is just weird now. Anyway, after helping him pry his skates on he took off "Watch how fast I can go!" I do what I always do at these things...I sat off by myself with a book (one of the Twilight books, of course). Occasionally I would stand up by the wall and watch my kid. 20 minutes of High School Musical songs later, they finally played something that I could move to without hating myself. I'd start moving to the beat...trying not to go overboard...I was at an 8 year old's birthday party, not a nightclub after all. I noticed that LR was attempting to have some kind of rhythm himself. All of the other kids were just merely skating or trying not to fall. LR was moving to the music. Swaying his little hips and dancing out there without a care in the world as to who saw him. This makes me smile because I'm trying to set the example for him that you only get one shot at life and you should make every moment Dance like nobody is watching. He's such a hit.
So, I'm dancing on the sidelines and...okay, people are watching me...whatever. But, then the other parents start coming over to talk to me. Almost like "That poor woman. She's so lonely, it's making her crazy. Perhaps we should go talk to her." So, now I'm surrounded by several people that are wrecking my rhythm because I have to talk with them instead of letting the music move me. I can't help myself. But, I'm polite and I talk. I avoid talking to people at these types of things because I have hearing problems and the background noise makes it nearly impossible to hear and the dim lights and strobe lights make it difficult for me to see their mouths in order to read lips. So, I stay off by myself and it's all just right as rain usually. But, they are starting to find me mildly interesting. Great!

LR and I could have just done our own thing and forgotten that the other people were there. He's not yet embarrassed by his mom. And, I'm not embarassed by him. How long will this last? Oh well, at least we both had fun.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

If you ask me....

I think the work week should start with a strong cup of coffee and chickory and the Chipmunks version of Funkytown.

I think the work week should end with a bottle of rum and the Chipmunks version of That's How We Roll.

Anyone that uses the words Hump Day and is NOT referring to humping anything should be thrown from the roof.

If you can locate the car that the glass shattering bass is coming from, you are perfectly justified in pulling him (cause let's face it how many females do this?) through his car window and stomping him into a pile of bloody goo in the road...and then attaching battery cables to that bloody pile of goo for good measure.

The people I work with should address me in one of the following ways: "Master," "Mistress of the Dark," or perhaps just approach me on your knees and we'll just see how it goes.

If you call me "The Shankonater" don't be surprised if you actually do get shanked at some point.

Every day should have a theme....pirate day, vampire day, fetish of the day, naked day...etc.

Peanut M&M's should be included in every medically prescribed diet.

All 18 year olds should be required to spend 2-4 years in the military...not MY kids, of course...they'll be Canadian citizens before they hit their 18th birthday...I am no Spartan mother.

A work day that begins with the words "What's the statute of limitations on auto theft?" will be a pretty interesting day at work.

If you are watching a movie titled Texas Chainsaw Massacre and you and your spouse get up to leave stating this is too violent...the rest of the audience should be allowed to bring the movie violence down upon you....what part of that movie title suggested that it would be a warm and fuzzy romantic asshat!

If you run past my desk at top speed for the 15th time today, I have the right to clothesline you and step on your throat until you pass out.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009


I have a problem with anger. When I used to get angry, I would break things. On one of those occasions when I was 15, I broke my finger as well as the telephone that I punched. The finger is still "broken" to this a reminder of my stupidity. I am slow to burn, but once I'm pushed too far...there is an explosion. I have a hole in my wall at home that we've had to patch. I've punched walls and doors. I punched through a pane of glass on the door of my grandparents house when my cousin locked me out when I was a child.
My child seems to have inherited that temper. Since he came into my life it's like an overwhelming calm washed over me. I never ever dreamed of having the kind of patience that I have now. Granted, as he gets older and more opinionated and OBSTINATE my patience slips from time to time. I don't punch or throw or anything....but, I shriek like a banshee. Our battles over the past few years have been of the huge momentous kinds because, being like me, the angrier and louder I got, the angrier and louder he got. I tried something one time.........I remained calm (on the outside, of course...inside I was seething). It shut him down. He had no where to go if I wasn't feeding the monster. Once he realizes that I'm not budging and I'm not yelling...he goes into pout mode and just chooses not to be near me and not to talk to me. Fine. Whatever. Then, all of sudden (could be minutes later...more likely it's an hour or more later) he's apologizing and all cheerful again. It really makes me want to stab myself repeatedly. It's so unbelievably frustrating. Kids think they know everything.

My husband, however....a whole different story. He tells me he's amazed that I have infinite patience. HA! I told him my patience is not infinite. I reserve my patience for my children. For the rest of the world...WATCH OUT! If he gets a little lippy with me....ohhhhhh, it's on. Recently after I made one of my typical sarcastic remarks to him he said "Woman, do I need to slap you around to remind you who's the boss?" My reply to the quiet scary voice that I use to...well, get my point across..."You could. But you would never be able to sleep safely in this house again." giggle. I love him, but damn... He and I have very similar personalities in this regard. He's slow to burn, but when he does...WATCH OUT! I've never witnessed this myself, but I've heard stories. This just proves to me that if for some reason our relationship doesn't work out, it will come crashing down around both of us...ending in someone's car being torched and someone's stuff burning on the lawn...perhaps the flaming car driving into the house for good measure. You know...something you'd see on an episode of COPS...or Jerry Springer. But, like I said...I love him and so far we have both been quite reasonable when it comes to disagreements. I think it's because perhaps we know how dirty the other will fight so, we just don't.

For other know the ones....those that get under your skin simply by being alive...may God help you. I used to be a little better at smothering that side of me...and, frankly, it makes me sick. So when you come to ask me if the elevator isn't working when you have clearly been on it and pressed the button and nothing has happened.....don't get pissed at me if I look into your eyes and tell you that I'll cut you if you don't walk away from me. Don't be taken aback if after the 27th time of locking yourself out of the computer system on the same day because you've forgotten your password I calmly tell you that I'm going to set you on fire. And, if we are on the phone while you are giving me your latest complaint and droning on and on about something after I've already given you the answer, and you suddenly hear silence on my end.....RUN! I'm coming for you. This is my only warning! You are clearly too stupid to live. You are why I no longer have patience for people.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Trying to pry myself out of the Twilight zone

Okay. I admit it. I have some sort of obsessive compulsive disorder. I can live with it. Once I hit upon something that "speaks to me, " I can't help myself. I completely submerge myself in it. Before I knew I had this problem it really caused some issues and would drive me to severe depressive states because I would neglect everything else. Oh I do the typical mundane stuff that others with OCD do...things have to be in a specific order, things have to be done in a certain order, certain things have to be done or I can't sleep or concentrate or whatever. I check the alarm clock 3 times each night just to make sure it's set right and it's on. I checked the doors twice during the late night hours or I can't sleep. But, when I hit upon something....a story, a movie...just something...that pulls me in and won't let me go, I've learned not to fight it. This recently happened to me with the Twilight saga. I reluctantly read Twilight. I had no real interest in reading it. I had an idea of what it was about. I just didn't really feel that interested. Once I began the book...there was no putting it down. I couldn't stop. Something about the story was just so compelling to me. I can't quite put my finger on it. I finished it in one evening. The next day was my, I went to the store and bought the other 3 books in the series as a gift to myself. I finished all of them in 3 days. And then.....I began slowly rereading each one. That was nearly 3 weeks ago. I have now read each one 5 times and I have no interest in stopping. I've watched the movie every day since that first day I found it. I can't stop. What is it that draws me in?

1. It could be that oh so incredibly strong desire to live forever. I'm not afraid of dying. I'm just so curious about what's going to happen in the future that I don't want to miss it. I want to stick around and maybe even be part of where the world is headed.

2. It could be Edward Cullen. Okay...he's every girls dream....he's dangerous, but he goes to such incredible lengths to keep Bella safe. He's a gentleman. He's sweet and kind and gentle. He's impossibly strong. He's romantic. He does everything he can to make Bella happy. What girl wouldn't fall madly in love with him...vampire or not?

3. It could be that I identify with Bella in some ways. The complete lack of self confidence. The all consuming guilt about the pain I've caused those I love over the years.

4. It could be because I would love to have a family like the Cullens. I would love to have a sister like Alice and brothers like Emmett and Jasper. I would love to have warm and loving parents like Carlisle and Esme.

5. It could be because I'd love to be able to hear other people's thoughts or to see the future or to be able to affect the mood of those around me.

6. It could be because I struggle with some of the same urges that the Cullens struggle with on a regular basis. Perhaps being a vampire would allow me some concessions with those...urges.

I can't pinpoint the reason why this story speaks to me. I've become so completely immersed in Twilight that I have neglected other my classes and my house. But, today I have FORCED myself to start getting back to my life. I still allow myself to read the books throughout the day, but only after I've done some work. All consuming obsessions are crazy. It's like your brain rewires itself and you have no real choice but to go over and over and over and over the same stuff. However, since I accept what it is, I don't beat myself up about it. I don't allow myself to feel too badly because I know this will pass. I may always have it in my mind, but it won't continue to drive my life the way it has in the past 3 weeks.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Uncomfortable can kiss my a$$

So, since I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and high cholesterol I have been doing such a wonderful job (if I do say so myself) eating healthier and getting active. I'm making better choices...salad instead of fries, grilled chicken instead of burgers, broccoli instead of potatoes, etc. And, I have to say that I have been feeling a thousand times better. The healthier lifestyle has had an incredible effect on my mental and emotional health, as well. I've been happier...over the top crazy happy. Very bizarre, but I'm not complaining. So why if I'm feeling so much better did I decide to have a burger and fries for lunch today? I have no idea what I was thinking. Oh sure I do. I was thinking...I've been doing so well I deserve this. Well, I'm an idiot. A moron. A complete fool. Within 30 minutes of eating this greasy disgusting meal (I used to LOVE burgers and fries...I am American after all) I knew it was a mistake. I feel just miserable physically. I have this crappy over full feeling and this heavy gross feeling and it's just trying to wreck my Zen. So...goodbye greasy carb filled food. It's been great, but you are holding me back and I'm tired of it.

I went to the sleep clinic at the hospital recently to meet with a neurologist about the quality of my sleep. Apparently I don't sleep well. Who knew? Well, this had to be the most uncomfortable medical appointment that I've ever had...being fully dressed, that is. The doctor would ask me a question. I'd answer. Then he'd sit there and stare into my eyes like he was trying to peer into my soul. Then another question. I'd answer. Then more soul peering. This went on for what felt like hours, but was only about 20 minutes. Every time he did the peering thing I was trying to figure out what the hell he was doing. In my head I was asking myself..."should I say something else?" "Is he trying to will me into jumping him (he was kind of cute)" "Should I make some random bizarre comment?" I decided to be silent until he was done analyzing my soul. Frankly, if I made one of my usual disturbing comments it's entirely likely he would have had me committed that moment and...well...I like my insanity. I did think briefly of trying to turn it back around on him and stare into his eyes...but, knowing my luck he would think that I was trying to make a pass at him and I'd have a whole different set of problems right now.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Vacation plans

So, we've decided to take the kids to Disney this year. I have yet to find someone that can match my level of enthusiam with Disney...including my 8 year old son. I count down the days until we leave. I cry when they do that whole opening the park thing with Mickey and cast coming in on the train at the Magic Kingdom (That's right...I said I CRY). When the gates open I literally skip down Main Street. I giggle like I'm 5 years old and seeing it all for the first time. I dream of moving into that castle. I head straight for Tomorrow Land (although Space Mountain was a bit shaky last time which made it scary for completely different reasons that it used to). I ride Dumbo like a big dumb butt. I hit the Haunted Mansion a hundred times and Splash Mountain and Thunder Mountain Railroad just about as much. I don't care if it's raining, snowing, or if there is a Category 5 hurricane. If the park is open, I'm all over it. I hit everything I like as if it were a tactical strike. 2 years ago we took my son and one of his cousins. That experience. Not counting the 10 hour car ride there with a little girl that talked almost the entire time and the relentless "Are we there yet?" from the backseat, it wasn't as bad as I thought it could have been. I don't allow my kid to he doesn't, but other people's children...what do you do? They actually asked if they could go swimming. It was complete blasphemy. Who the hell goes to Disney and actually gets into a freakin pool? Not even when I was a child did I ever once ask to swim while at Disney. That's just madness! But, we swam right after we checked in. It made me sick, but we did it for the children. I forced them to ride every ride once. You can't imagine the whining and moaning and even tears. People must have thought that I was a horrible mother. I don't care. Once the ride was over, they wanted to get back on. Made me want to stab myself repeatedly. Honestly, causing a huge scene just to want to get off and go get back in line over and over and over. At any rate, this year we are taking the 8 year old and the 1 year old. This has the potential to be a complete nightmare. But, I'm trying to stay optimistic. Again we are driving...because we are gluttons for punishment...and airline tickets...ugh! Can't wait to update you on the whole experience.

So...having reconnected with a couple of old friends from high school...I do what I always do...I scared at least one of them off. I don't know if it's that I'm pushy or nosey or have a wicked evil sense of humor that scares the hell out of people, but it usually takes only a short time before they are running screaming away from me. It's only been like a day and a half and I'm fairly certain that I'll never hear from this one again. And I was actually trying to be nice and helpful. But, crazy over the top, I suppose. So much for reconnecting. Maybe this is why I avoid people. It's one thing for people to suspect that your weird, but it's an entirely other thing to confirm that for them...and so quickly. Geez! To those of you that aren't scared away so easily...we're going to have a lot of fun!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009


Okay...after years, decades perhaps, of avoiding people I used to know, I'm finally reconnecting. Is this a good thing? Is this dangerous? Will it dredge up old hurts? Seriously, how do people do this every day? Do I want people to remember me the way I was or get to know who I am now? Of course, when they knew me I was a naive teenager. I thought everything was life or death back then. It's kind of embarrassing to remember some of those times. Some things I don't mind remembering. Some things I supposed I've blocked out and will never remember again...and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Suffice it to say that I've spent 2 decades trying to forget some pretty painful memories and bam!!! Talk to one or two people and it all comes flooding back. I didn't sleep at all the first night with all that crap swimming through my head. It was like reliving it all over again.
Thankfully, I've learned to squash that crap much more quickly than I did when I was younger. I can no longer allow myself to stray into that deep dark abyss that I lived in for so long. I wouldn't survive it this time around.