Anonymity

I have got to check this damn thing more often. I went to look through it tonight and found that someone has been having a hay day insulting me. Judging by the colorful vocabulary (sarcasm, these things might as well have been written in crayon) I would say it was my ex or a friend of his. Don't you just love it when you're important enough to be stalked? Well, I'm sick of it. It's old and played out. Also, it's mildly entertaining. Mostly because all of these insults come anonymously. Getting worked up over shit people say to you on the internet is a pointless endeavor anyway, but when the troll chooses to stay anonymous, it's just a joke. What is the point of telling someone what you think of them if they don't fucking know it's you who thinks this of them? Oh.....people are stupid. I have NEVER said anything to anyone anonymously. Many websites come with this option and I just ignore it. If I'm going to say it, I A)Believe it MUST be said and B)Want you to know that IIIIII said it! So to whoever called me a "slut" on one post, "trash" on another, and remarked "who got the kids, the ex?" on another, my reply to you is GET A FUCKING LIFE. I don't need you to check in on mine. Mine is awesome right now. I'm happy and my kids are happy. THIS is all that matters to me. Have a nice day and die.

Creepshow.

When someone asked me to write about a horror flick, there was only one that came to mind. CREEPSHOW. If you've never seen this movie, we cannot be friends ... until you see it … and love it. This movie is my absolute favorite film ever. EVER. It's fucking perfect. George A. Romero directing, Stephen King writing, Tom Savini for special effects, and a slew of amazing actors including (well known in the world of horror) Tom Atkins and Adrienne Barbeau. Not to mention one of the best cinematic scores in all of creation. All that fantastic shit tied together with kick ass comic book style animated transitions illustrated by Bernie Wrightson makes it the most perfect goddamned horror flick on Earth. If you disagree, may you die a horrible death. Kidding. ::Winky Face:: Not kidding.

The wrap-around story is about a boy (Stephen King's actual son! ::GASP!::) who gets caught with a CREEPSHOW comic book by his father, Tom Atkins (an apparent smut ogler). Poor Billy loses his comic to the trash. A great injustice. Enter The Creep, a lovable skeleton in a cloak who visits Billy's window like a magical terrifying godmother to grant him the wish of offing his father for him. BUT, not before sharing with the audience just what the CREEPSHOW comic contains that is so very sinful and disgusting that it belongs in the garbage. “The freakin' garbage!” to be exact.

The first tale is titled “Father's Day.” This story features a snob family having a Father's Day dinner together....sans father. A young couple, a brother, and a aunt await the arrival of Great Aunt Bedelia. The brother sets it up: Aunt Bedelia is well know for being tormented all her life by her father, Nathan. At some point after he turns 184, Bedelia bashes his head in to halt his constant bitching. “Where's my Father's Day cake?!” Aw....that's nice. And although Nathan was clearly a mean old bastard from Hell, Bedelia is consumed with greed. Offing Daddy will do that to a girl. Bedelia visits his grave which is inexplicably close to the home, only to get strangled by a newly awakened, less than fresh, Nathan. All this happens while the family sits comfortably in the house and Ron Howard does possibly the most awkward on screen dancing to disco music ever. Don't worry, Nathan will kill him too. In fact, it's implied that Nathan gets the entire family on this evening and even makes Aunt Sylvia's head into his Father's Day cake, complete with candles. Hooray!

The second tale is titled “The Lonesome Death of Jordy Verrill.” Do you have goosebumps yet?! Jordy Verrill is a simpleton living in a shitty farm house in the middle of no where. Also he is played by Stephen Fucking King. Ah, yes...there are the goosebumps. On this night a bright glowing ball falls from the sky to which Jordy exclaims “Holy ol' Jesus!” Jordy'll be dipped in shit if that ain't a meteor. He proceeds to “cool the sumbitch off” with a bucket of water which causes it to break in half spilling a mysterious ooze that Jordy names “Meteor Shit.” The dialog alone makes this segment fantastic. Poor Jordy Verill spends the evening with hallucinations and what appears to be a plant like substance growing in places that come in contact with the meteor shit. ALL places. Yes, even there. At the end of the evening his land, home, belongings, and body are completely covered in moss and grass. This proves to be unbearable and Jordy opts for washing his mouth out with buckshot. A moment of silence...

The third tale is titled “Something to Tide You Over.” This story is about a man and another man and also a woman. Oh, there's the conflict: A woman. One man, Leslie Nielsen, wants to kill the other, Ted Danson, for sleeping with his wife, some broad. The chosen method for killing him and the broad? Burying them up to their necks in the sand and waiting for the tide to come in and drown them. He doesn't wait for the tide though. He has fancy-ass equipment to record it all so he can watch from his hoity-toity beach house, the rich bastard. The tide comes in and all is well! Whore wife and boyfriend, both dead. Good times are to be had in the shower. Or not. Instead, the whore wife and boyfriend come back from the dead and raid Leslie's beach house. What assholes! Bullets don't stop them either. In the end, we find poor Leslie buried on the beach. No worries, though. He can hold his breath “for a loooooong time.” No, not really. He gon' die.

The fourth tale is titled “The Crate.” This is my favorite. Henry is a man, barely. His mouthy, alcoholic wife, Wilma (call her “Billie”, everyone does) has made his life a living Hell. Henry regularly envisions killing Billie. Ah, the bliss of killing Billie. Henry works at a college which is in its off season. A janitor there has found a mysterious (say it with me) CRATE under the stairway. This crate has been nailed shut, surely for no important reason. The janitor is hot to see what's inside so he calls Henry's intellectual friend, Dexter, to help him investigate it. They find Fluffy inside. Fluffy is some sort of man-eating beast made of nightmares, teeth and the terrified tears of children. He eats the janitor, you know, because he's not important. Dexter runs to get help. He finds a wandering student, we'll call him “Meal #2”. Dexter then runs home to find Henry. And Henry figures “Janitor, random student, well....someone important to this plot has to be eaten at some point. Que Billie. Henry invites Billie to the college via hand-written note left next to her bourbon and milk. Ew. Billie falls right into Henry's trap. We rejoice and cheer for Fluffy. As Fluffy retreats to his crate for the evening, Henry manages to chain the crate shut and take Fluffy for a drive. He drops Fluffy at the bottom of a water filled quarry. Don't worry, he's fine. Not sure how, but he is.

The fifth and final tale is titled “They're Creeping Up On You.” It's about a mean old codger who subsides in a $3200 a month penthouse apartment that is supposedly germ proof. However, we needn't worry about germs. Upson Pratt hates bugs. Especially cockroaches. So, what should happen to suddenly and overwhelmingly inhabit his apartment? Fucking cockroaches. Thousands of them. Mr. Pratt is wonderful at being a total asshole to his employees via intercom phone calls and even goes so far as to make fun of a grief-stricken widow who's husband blew his brains out when Pratt bought his company. He also establishes himself as a racist dick. It's safe to say that by the time the bugs have inexplicably filled his apartment, we're ready to see the bastard croak. And he does. Quite graphically. Huzzah!

We return to the wrap-around story of Billy and his asshole father. As the garbage men show up to take the freakin' garbage, one of them (Tom Goddamned Savini) notices that an ad for a voo-doll has been clipped and mailed away from the comic book. Billy's father didn't sleep worth a damn and as he's bitching about his neck, his wife notices a piece of his pajamas missing. It cuts to Billy holding a voodoo doll clad in Dad's PJ's. Billy has a grand time repeatedly stabbing his father in the throat while his father writhes in pain downstairs in the kitchen.

I'll end this with a note on all the things that are not perfect about this film. …..............

Enjoy.

Adaptation is Difficult

    Ah, yes, September. This month hits me like a goddamn train every year. For one, this is just a month before BOTH of my kids' birthdays. Also, I ALWAYS get sick. Allergies kick in and a massive sinus infection kicks my ass this time of year. Being sick is a pain anyway. Being sick when you're alone is just depressing. Literally depressing. I don't think anyone's really taken care of me when I was sick since I lived at home with my mommy, but still...having people around to *try to make you feel better is at least something. Breathing through my mouth constantly has caused my lips to become severely chapped. There's not enough Carmex in the whole goddamn world! Sitting around sniffling and feeling like you have a bag of fucking sand on your face just blows. So...I'm trying to take my mind off of the downward spiral. Hence writing in the bloggage. (Google does not recognize "bloggage" as a word. Meh.)

    Let's take a review of my life at the moment. I have been living on my own for 3 and a half months now. I have days when I'm tickled to be alone and days that I'm, well, lonely. The deciding factor is, of course, my mood. Yay! Ugh.... My mood. My mood is a little anime girl who can be a cute innocent playful thing and just as easily be a giant, snake-tongued monster; eating neighborhood cats. I've learned some things about myself. I've learned who I am. What I like and don't liked. What my problems are. What I need to work on. I have a lot to work on, trust me.

    I've taken to a strange habit. Coming home from work, stripping, and getting into bed. Of course I only do this when alone. Once into bed, I don't leave. Hmm... I have no motivation to do anything ever. I know I should. I should care. But I just don't. Same happens on the weekends except before 5 pm. I've become a lazy fuck. I have nothing to make me get out of bed though. When my kids are here, it's completely different. I hang out with them and do kid stuff. Kids are just the coolest thing ever. But, yeah when I'm alone like right fucking now, I sit around in my underwear. What's it to ya?

    I have not been on a date. Or even tried to go on one. Let's just say I'm not ready to dive right back into picking up someone else's socks. The life of a wife sucks. ...Probably should have made that rhyme. Ah, well. In fact, the only man I've been speaking to is a man who lives very very very far away. This is the perfect situation for me. I can speak to a man, learn his outlook and opinion, get "Good morning, gorgeous." messages (which every goddamn girl wants everyday for the rest of her life, so take note), but not worry about being alone in a room and feeling terribly awkward with him. I'm not above admitting that I like this guy because he is sort of perfect for me and if he showed up someday, I would most likely fall for him but I'm not looking that far into the future yet. So, for now, just talking about anything and everything will do. Like I said, it's perfect.

    So, how am I spending my nights. Why, here! On the damned internet, typing away and reading about things. I've gone out a couple times, hated it, and come home. I'll cut loose at some point, but at the moment I'm still inverted. Sort of like a hermit, but I have to go to work everyday and shower regularly. Like tonight, I'm getting out of the house!......to do laundry at another friend's house while we bitch about guys and eat junk food. Shyeah.....it's that awesome in my universe. You should come some time!

I'm Too Old For This Shit

    So, in 1996, I met this girl. We were the shit, even at 12. And in 2003, we were beyond the shit. Everyone loved us because we did whatever we wanted. We had a blast no matter what and we didn't worry about boys or what they thought. And now that I'm getting divorced I've been able to spend time with this chick again. I've missed her. She still doesn't give a shit, does what she wants, always has a blast. There's something wrong for me though. I do give a shit, much more than I ever have or should. And this causes me to NOT have a blast. I went out with her last night. It was only the second time I've left the house since I separated from my soon-to-be ex-husband. And while we still had our moments when I was crying from laughter because we are fucking hilarious together (they should book us as entertainment), I did not enjoy a few parts of the night. Why? Because I am so goddamned worried about the state I am, that I absolutely do not want any attention. It was easy to be wild and care free back in 2003. I was hot! Like, really hot. Now, not so much. I've had 2 kids which have wrecked my body beyond recognition. I have been in a relationship that trained me to never ever want men's attention for nearly 10 years. I am just beat down in more ways than one and it sucks. I love this girl to death and I couldn't figure out why no matter how hard she tried to make me happy last night, I was still thinking "I want to go home." It's because of people looking. I used to not care if they looked. In fact, I counted on it. That feeling is gone now. I spent too many years afraid to move around because I would be judged. I wish I could just turn off that feeling. I can't, though. I don't know how.

    I need to apologize to my friend. She tried so very hard to give me a fun night. I ended up having one drink and returning home. I even left her there because she said she would get another ride. I feel terrible. I couldn't stand it though. The smoke, the noise, the desperate and disgusting people constantly looking. I had to get out of there. Perhaps I am just too old for this shit. I wish it didn't turn out that way though. I thought I was becoming me again, but I suppose I'm not completely there yet.

A Message To The Reader Who's Fucking With My Life

    First of all, thanks for reading. Appreciate it. *WINK* I'd like to explain that I am completely aware that I am putting my life out there for the public to read which means I have waived all of my rights and am vulnerable to scrutiny. Fine. Understood. However, I'd like to know why you have nothing better to do than to read my blog and report it to my ex-husband. Especially since my life no longer concerns him. I apparently need to clarify. In my last post, when I stated that I was "entering the dating world" that did not mean that I'm in the game as a star player. I am, in fact, on the bench....by choice. Even if the act of divorce hadn't made me bitter toward men, my ex certainly has. I NEVER want to be put through this bullshit again! I am not dating or even considering it and I don't plan on it for a long time. I also don't know why you feel the need to share my blog with him because I haven't actually said anything that should upset him. I've been incredibly generous with the way I describe him and omitted many of the details of his treachery. After all he's put me through I am still being civil. I think I need a goddamn award! But, no. Instead I write what I think is honest, accurate, and fair and what do I get? Him calling me the next day asking me a million questions about things that are, frankly, none of his goddamn business anymore. Now, of course I can't stop you from sitting by your computer and waiting for me to type up a new post so you can call him up and read it to him. I just felt like saying that I know what you're doing and you're an asshat for doing it. I hope someone fucks you over. Have a nice day.

How To Understand Women: Volume 1 of 489,328,901 (squared)

    Women are crazy. No shit. Here's the thing though. And I'm not saying you should forgive all the fucked up things women can and will do, but....just understand that most of it cannot be helped. Women are wired this way. I'm sure there's some sort of evolutionary reason, but who gives a shit. The point is our brains do not think rationally. Women have an uncanny knack for over-thinking the hell out of everything. EVERYTHING. A woman thinks about the way she walks: "Is my ass jiggling? Watch how you place that weak ankle. Stand up straighter. Stick your tits out. Look busy for Christ's sake." Women think about how they eat: "Is there anything in my teeth? How about now? Is my lipstick ok? Did I eat too much? I'm a fat ass. I really think there's something in my teeth." If we think this much about the completely fucking mundane shit that WE are doing, imagine how much we are dissecting every little thing YOU do and say.

    I'm nearly 30 now and just about to be divorced. As a married woman I used this pile of sparking wires tied to a rabid dog which I call my brain to make myself really goddamn angry. I would think and think until I was ready to commit murder, or rather, break some shit. Now that I'm entering the dating world again, I'm allowed to see men in a light that had been dimmed, almost suffocated after college. I'm old enough now that I can recognize when my "female thought process" is kicking in and sometimes shut it down. Not very often, but sometimes. When something doesn't go the way I want it to my brain starts throwing wild flaming shit at the front door that is my inner monologue. I over-think myself into a bad mood. That's a red flag for me. I have to stop and think to myself "Is this really going down the way I think it is? Or am I just being a goddamned girl about it?" For instance when I talk to a man who shows interest in me, I somehow expect that man to continue his interest at a steady, consistent level (which is not fucking possible). Just because a guy talks to me a little less does not mean he's over me, mad at me, doesn't want to talk to me ever again! He is just busy. Simple as that. However, even with that rational piece of knowledge living in my mind I cannot hear it. It is being choked by the "female thought process" and she is screaming over it "What the fuck is his problem?! Why doesn't he call me like he said he would?! I want to kick a puppy!!!" Now, I've tried to take thoughts like this and lock them up where they can't be heard in the back of my mind. It can't be done. Those thoughts can fit through bars! Turn into fucking vapor and sneak into brain cells that are heavily guarded by the need to reproduce! I'm telling you, the shit's like a bar of soap.  So what does the average woman do? She tries to come up with a way of telling you what you're doing wrong without it sounding like it's crazy even though she knows it probably is super crazy.

    So what should you as a man do to keep a woman happy?  Jesus.....there's nothing. There. Is. Nothing. You can be madly in love with a woman and the second you forget her birthday she is POSITIVE that you don't love and never did. That's just the way our minds work. If there were, for the sake of argument, a man who could keep a woman happy he would have to be tall, handsome, goddamn perfect, smart but not smarter than her, and he would have to pay every ounce of his attention to her all day everyday forever and ever and fucking ever. No? Yeah, ok. The most important thing that I've noticed from my own experience is that women want to be chased. Always. They want to feel like someone out there can't live without them. Once that feeling is gone, they're out. Or they want to be out. When a woman says she's "fine" you should ask her again. And here's a really awesome trick you men could use. Don't be a dick about it when you ask again. Sound polite and calm when you speak. Women hate it when your mouth says "I'm sorry" but your eyes and your tone say "Please take this offering of my dignity and shut the fuck up, you bitch." Big no no, boys.

    You might be thinking "Why try so hard just to keep her from being crazy when she's the one who's crazy?" Well, fucking because. Because woman can make your life really awesome if you're not a dick to them. It sounds like a simple thing, but actually this is the holy goddamn grail of relationship knowledge. If you do and say what she wants, you can have anything you want. It's really easy! I've only ever dated one guy who understood this. He paid attention to me. He did what I asked. He worshiped me. All along he was cheating on my with "too many women to count" (his words). And I never suspected a thing. I was blissfully in love with him because he pretended to be perfect. That's the other thing though. Should you find the holy grail and be perfect to a woman, be prepared for her to looooooove you. I'm talking obsessed, never want to hang up the phone, text you 100 times a day in love. And when you get her to fall so hard, don't act like it annoys the fuck out of you that she's in love. That's a dick move.

    Women are a labyrinth. If you find your way in (insert vagina joke here. Yeah, I said "insert.") you should stay. Because most women won't let you find your way and it's not likely to happen again or with anyone else. Consider yourself lucky. In short, women want to feel like the most important thing in the world to you. More important than your car or your video games or your friends or food or oxygen....yeah, I know...but actually it's not that she has to be more important, it's just that you need to show the effort to make her *feel* like she is. If you even pretend that she's all that matters you will have the happiest woman on the planet who will do anything you want. Probably even anal. End.

Legally Binding

    I'm not so sure that making marriage a legally binding thing is necessary. Divorce definitely requires legal terms and conditions. Otherwise, you'd never get your shit back. I spent my entire lunch break today reading my divorce papers. I can't imagine how much there is to read when you don't agree on things. I signed everything and as I sat there in that over-sized leather chair at a table that was easily 10 feet long I felt excitement well up in me. I thought I would possibly panic or suddenly feel hopeless and depressed over what was happening. I didn't. I felt like I had accomplished something that was bigger than me. Something I never thought I would accomplish. After leaving the lawyer's office, I did begin to feel some slight anxiety and fear. It was quickly replaced with relief. I did have a moment though. A moment of great familiarity. It was the blues creeping back in. I hadn't felt the blues in a few months. I had been momentarily struck down with the waves of awful emotions that came initially with this whole divorce thing, but that's not the same. Hopelessness, dreadful fear, and loneliness. That's the blues. This moment came upon me while I was in the laundromat tonight. I was on the phone and as I began to hang up I was suddenly uneasy. As if the blues were watching me from a crack in the wall or a drain in the floor. And those thoughts that only the blues can make you think crept into my brain. "You are alone now... You've finalized your divorce: No husband. You won't talk to anyone about it: No friends. He has the kids tonight: Empty house. ...And you brought it all on yourself." I nearly began to cry. Right there in the goddamn laundromat. Pathetic. This is what I wanted. I've never been so sure of anything. I suppose I just didn't think about any downsides to it. I honestly never knew how hard divorce would be on the person who wanted it. I've been handling it very well, but my walls are weakening. They need reinforcement. I am very very bad at asking for help though. I do not like people to feel sorry for me. Ever. In fact, I'm thinking of re-writing this right now due to the possibility that someone will want to reach out to me. I don't like the feeling of needing anyone else. It makes me feel weak. I'm not completely lonely though. I do have a few friends who enjoy a good rant and the cat. The cat is the best listener. I'm kidding. Or am I? I am...maybe.

Staying Together For The Kids: Miss-communicated Advice

    I spent 2 years struggling with whether or not my marriage should end. The question wasn't "Do I want to be with him anymore?" The answer to that was a astoundingly deafening "NO!" The questions were more like "Can I live with this? Can I stick it out for the kids' sake." That's what everyone tells you. "Stay together for your kids." And I believe that. I completely believed it. I thought that as long as no one was getting physically hurt, I had no reason to leave. Two years of that...constantly on my mind....knowing I was there for my kids. Then, I had an epiphany. When I was a kid my parents divorced. Before they did my mother used to hide in her bedroom from my father. I was not old enough to understand why and I distinctly remember thinking that my mother wanted nothing to do with me. That wasn't the case though. She was depressed, of course. And then I wondered what my children thought of me always hiding in my room. Luckily my kids have been with me in my room most of the time. Even as a hermit, they wanted to be near me. It was like lightning struck. And I knew I would be a better parent if I were happy. And I could not be happy until I was out. The separation has also made him a better father. He is now solely responsible for the kids when they are in his care. He has been forced to start cooking, cleaning, and taking care of them. It has been good for them and him. He was a good dad before, but not a hands on type. He was good at playing with them and keeping them happy while I did those things. If he were anything less, he wouldn't have joint custody.

    I understand the belief that happy children come from a happy home, not a broken one. It makes sense. However, I am from a broken home and I understand what I need to be happy and how to have a good life. And my home IS happy.  My mother and father were much better people when they were not together. And so are we.  I don't feel like I've let my children down by leaving their father. I'm happier, more productive, and more involved in their lives than ever. I am ultimately concerned with how my kids see this. I want them to look back and see how their lives improved after the divorce.

The Confessional is Open

    It has been about a month and a half since I left my soon-to-be ex-husband. I've spent every ounce of energy I have trying to be civil. It has been exhausting though. He, on the other hand, has taken the....what's the opposite of "the high road"??? The point is he has been saying and doing every possible thing he can think of to try and hurt me the way I've hurt him. Let me reiterate. I am not without fault here. However, he believes my faults are much more than his now. Sometimes. Sometimes, he apologizes and admits total fault. Sometimes, he hates my guts. He believes he is justified in making my life a living hell because of my many faults, some of which have only come to light recently like the fact that I have said mildly inappropriate things to people on the internet. Here's the thing. My sense of humor is wildly inappropriate. It's really the only way I can joke about things. I wouldn't say I flirt with people. I'm actually quite awkward and terrible at flirting, but I do speak on subjects that are improper for public conversation. And, yes, I am guilty of not telling men to "fuck off" when they comment in an unbecoming fashion on my Facebook pictures. I don't return their comments with anything ill-suited though.  And, don't misunderstand. I've never cheated. I've never had an idea or intention of doing so. However, the more freely I had felt over the last few months about talking with other men (albeit average conversations) was sort of a red flag for me. Through my marriage I have been on a constant alert that I should not in any way appear that I wanted attention from any other male. I was so determined to make my husband believe that I would never cheat on him that over the years I'd become quite the cold-shouldered bitch. Now, although we had been discussing divorce for over 2 years. I made the conscience decision that I absolutely must do this a few months ago when I realized that accepting other men's compliments did not shame me anymore. Not only that, but I enjoyed them. He admits to never paying any attention to me. I hadn't received a kind word from anyone in years. Suddenly people were paying attention. Now, in person, most people won't compliment a married woman. The rules are different on the internet. People are anonymous, most of them, and they use that to give complete leave of their conscience and morals. I felt myself slipping even. I know it's not a sin to want attention, but I should have felt like it was at the time. I can't explain why. But the fact that I no longer felt like it was a sin was a very important clue that my marriage was over. My feelings for him were gone. I not only wanted out, but wanted the chance to find someone who might really care about me AND SHOW IT someday. I know, now, that my husband cared about me a great deal. That has only been shown to me now that I've left though. I never thought he cared while I was still there.  I know I never would have cheated, it's just not in me. But my conversations with others, alone, were enough to disrespect him. I'm not saying I told people I wanted to screw them or anything at all like that. Everything I ever said was based in humor; meant to be read as a joke so no one would actually send me a message with the intent of serious inappropriate banter. I am, after all, a coward when it comes to things of that nature. Had anyone decided that my overly sexual humor was an invitation and called on me for a serious conversation, I would have panicked and retreated with extreme embarrassment.
 
    An important part of this is the fact that he is very much a virgin to the internet world. He has, only recently, joined Facebook and Twitter. Trying to explain that everyone talks this way on the internet and it's considered quite normal to someone who's never seen it is impossible. His take on my jokes is that I'm a slut, plain and simple. To him, I may as well have just been sleeping with every person I said something ridiculous to. I can't convince him otherwise. He has even taken to nicknaming me "Kimmi the slut." Nice. It's very frustrating that I spent so many years explaining myself every time I came home a little late or didn't answer my phone. All for naught as it turns out. I'm apparently a slut anyway. He also doesn't believe that I only allowed myself to be this free with my words (mind you, my WORDS, not my being) recently. I was this open before I met him, but as we spent time together I noticed that he had a very distinct jealously problem that stemmed from every ex he had being an avid cheater. I quickly realized that if I wanted to make this man happy, I must sever all ties with male friends and completely abandon my brand of humor. Too many years of this made me a miserable person. I had no life in me. And then, right about the time I started opening up on the internet, I started being much more open around friends too. Even with him sitting next to me, I was becoming myself again. Good sign for me, bad sign for him. You could say much of our marriage was a misunderstanding of the minds. Our personalities are just so different. We were bound to end up apart, I think.

    Now, comes the fun part. The emotional roller coaster continues. His mood swings can only be measured in heart beats. He tells me he knows what he did to lose me, he's so sorry, he'd give anything to get me back. Then he tells me I'm a slut, this is all my fault, he can't wait to fuck someone else, I'm a worthless piece of shit, stop talking to him. And all the while I've been sitting and nodding my head. There's nothing more I can do. I refuse to fight. I just want to walk away and be left alone. In fact, if it weren't for our children I would be long gone. To another city, state, hemisphere...  The truth is, I began this post to get out all the frustration of the things he's put me through in the last month and half, but instead I ended up admitting what I've done wrong, again. I suppose I needed to get it off my chest though. Because although it wasn't cheating, it was wrong. I should have bailed before I dropped my wife guard and, essentially, became myself again. Honestly though, I don't think I had the guts until I became myself again. I can't take things back. I can't undo them. All I can do is sit back and watch the universe unfold.

Safety First!

    So...I was driving on Preacher Roe in the delivery car last Thursday morning and as I passed an area where the city crew is putting in sidewalks and the turning lane is closed I looked up and saw a white SUV in my lane. Although it's a lame excuse, these are the facts. The SUV was stopped and waiting to turn. (All brake light lenses should be clear for this reason) The sun was shining on their taillights so brightly that I did not see that their brake lights were on. There's a strange thing that happens when the sun shines on red taillights. It makes them look like they're glowing but not necessarily on. Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "Surely you can tell when a car is at a dead stop whether their brake lights are on or not." Haha...no . Not with this depth perception of mine! A major problem is trailers that don't have brake lights. Anyway- I had time to hit the brakes, but to no avail. I rear ended the shit out of them. In an instant that felt like full minutes the airbag blew up in my face, smoke filled the car, and water from a cooler in the back splashed throughout. It was sensory overload! I opened my eyes, looked around, and shoved the door open just enough so I could climb out into the road. I was choking from the smoke and crawled to the side of the road to lie and my back and cough. The first pain I noticed was my arms. I had both hands on the wheel and the airbag hit them on it's way out. The panel from the steering wheel struck my right arm especially hard. Of course, their Explorer thing was barely effected, while the delivery car was TOTALED. I was taken to the E.R. by ambulance, taped down to a goddamn board and it sucked. BUT, I am fine. The airbag burned me in a few places and I am miserably bruised, but I am fine. I was wearing my seat belt, so it could have been much worse. The car is ruined, but it actually wasn't that bad of a wreck. The paramedic explained to me that new cars are mad to crumple easily. That way the *car absorbs all the impact and not *you. Make sense I suppose.

Progression

    It has been a month since Michael and I split up. I'm doing as ok as I can be, I suppose.I have caught myself avoiding people though. I don't really like to talk about it. I like to write about it though. Writing is so much easier for me because I can get it out exactly the way I want to. Also, when I speak, I generally come off as sarcastic even when I don't mean to. People can take what I say the wrong way, possibly because I don't present it very well. I have been talking with some people. One of my oldest and best friends, Melissa, pretty much knows everything. Also I've been talking with my friend, Bryan, who is a very good referencing point because he's a man who has no other interest than friendship with me and who has also been through a divorce. I have completely avoided talking to men who may pursue something more with me. What I find easier than anything is talking to my friends on the internet about everything. I realize now that I need to keep things out of the public so I've stopped with that. Talking to people on the internet is easy because they don't live in our town so there's no possibility of bumping into any of them. And I feel like none of them will judge us because they don't really know us. I know most people are just fine without "internet friends" that they don't know and will never know, but these strangers are more understanding than the people in my real life. And I'm happy to have them.

   As emotions go, we seem to be nearing the end of the Olympics. Seem to be. He has gone through the gamut of emotions and I think he's starting to even out now. And although it's been awful some days and I feel like I never want to see him again, I understand that the bad times must happen. He'll have frustration and anger for a long time. I did too. I just hope he can go be angry in his corner and not take it out on me, although it's about me. I think I've remained civil through all of this. My family has been very neutral about all of it. They just tell me it's my decision, he and I know what's going on and no one else. His family has completely kicked me to the curb. I expected nothing more, honestly. They've made assumptions that I have cheated on him. Why else would I have left so abruptly? The things is, it wasn't abrupt. He and I had this discussion twice before. Neither of us tried to keep it together and now it's over. My family wasn't that surprised. Probably because I tell them everything. He didn't tell his family about our problems and we put on a terrific act for them. So, while I disagree of course, I understand why they feel the way they do. Still, I wish they hadn't shunned me. It's part of it, I guess.

    When this all began I thought that because I was ready to get out that I would feel relieved and happy. I did at first. Then the repercussion part happened. I knew I couldn't be selfish for long. I rarely think of myself and leaving my husband was the ultimate self absorbed act for me. Some people are saying "Good for you for doing what you needed to be happy." Well, that's what I thought at first too, but now I see how it's effected him, our friends, our families, and our children. I don't feel remorse, but I do feel guilt. If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that I made the right decision. That doesn't make it ok though. Our kids are handling things better than I expected. My daughter is oblivious. She just likes having 2 houses. My son is aware of what's happened but he doesn't know why we can't just stay together. I hope someday he will understand and this won't scar him. I thought my life would be ruined when my parents divorced. It wasn't. It improved greatly. My one goal throughout this is to make sure it's the same way for my kids.

    We visited with the lawyer. We're using the same one because everything is amicable between us. We are doing joint custody with the kids and our time with them will be completely equal. I don't want to be unfair in any way. Neither does he. As divorces go, I think we're doing well. We have bad days, but we still agree on all the legal stuff and I'm told that's the hard part. I think the emotional trouble is the hard part. So many ups and downs. We've talked about literally everything 2 people could possibly talk about though. Even chances of moving on with anyone else. He is unsure about talking to women ( a problem he's always had due to shyness). Me, I've never had to talk to men, they just come to me. As an older woman with 2 children now, I should probably learn to start a conversation though. It won't be as easy as it was for me in college to snag a guy. Of course, where does it even say that I must move on with someone else right away anyway? I'm really enjoying being alone for now. He's been texting a girl, but he doesn't seem interested in her. I've been talking to one of my "stranger" friends on Facebook. The good thing about it is I don't have to worry about him showing up at my door. He's several hundred miles away. It's sort of perfect for someone like me who doesn't want to get eaten up by the wolves that are the desperate single men who hang out in bars. *Shudder* As besides, he's very much like me.

    I've settled into a house. My rent is more than my house payment was. If it weren't for my parents, I wouldn't have been able to do this. They've literally done everything involving money for me and I appreciate them so much for that. My mom and I have become close again. I'm really thankful for that. All in all I'd say life is not bad right now. It could be much much worse.

Post Separation

    So the apartment thing was not going to work out. Far too small for me and the kids. I found a house though. An awesome house in an awesome neighborhood. My first night alone I watched Evil Dead and ate Chinese food totally sans pants. It was awesome. At first the kids were really excited to stay in their "new" house. That excitement has wore off a little. Some nights they want to stay with me and other nights they want to stay with their dad. We're both loose about that stuff. We are getting along, but I think it's because he hasn't really allowed himself to get angry about the situation yet. I'm still waiting for his big blow up. I figure it has to happen sometime. I've gotten out all my frustration and at some point he will have to as well. I just hope it doesn't cause us to change our minds about being civil. We want to agree on everything. We want it to go smoothly. I mean, as smoothly as possible. One thing I'm certain of is I do not want to be the typical bitch ex-wife. I want to be fair. He's never been hateful with me and he loves the kids and they love him. There's no reason to do anything hurtful on my end and I hope he feels the same way.

    I've had a huge out pour of friends wanting to help me and offer their shoulders. I can't thank them enough. Everyone has been calling and checking on me and it makes me feel amazing. I had no idea so many people cared about me. As much as I love all the attention, I kind of wish someone would pay attention to Michael. He's the one that's hurting. And, honestly, he can't cry on my shoulder anymore. I've tried to be as understanding as I can, but it's running out. I can't live the separate life I want and be his rock. It just doesn't work. I find myself feeling incredibly annoyed when he tells me how depressed he is. I feel terrible about what I've done to him, but just that it's hurt him, not that it's over. I really wish someone would talk to him so he can get it off his chest. I've been out of the house and away from him for a week and it kind of still feels like we're married!

    I'm still wearing my wedding ring. I don't want to stick it in a box and possibly lose it though. It has my grandmother's ring soldered between them so I plan on giving it to my daughter. Simply tossing it somewhere seems careless. Maybe I'll put it in a safety deposit box. Secretly, I don't necessarily want people to think I'm single either. I don't feel single. At least not yet. I'm not excited to get out into the world, but I am excited to have the option to...if that makes any sense. It's like I want to feel free to go out, but I really hope no one talks to me. I don't know. Mixed emotions about all of it I guess.

    After all of this, I'm still thinking in the back of my mind "I hope Michael can feel as good as I do about this...someday."

Divorce

    It's been a week since I said out loud that I wanted to get divorced. And although I'm the one walking out, it has been the most difficult event of my entire life. And it's only going to get more stressful. I'm glad that it is done. I was unhappy and I couldn't stand it anymore. It wasn't just him. We both had completely stopped caring about each other. He did a little before I did. It's done now and by the end of next week, I'll be living in a apartment a few blocks away.
 
    Michael and I never had much in common. The pastor who married us even mentioned that we weren't necessarily a good match. He offered a brilliant idea though that I still tell newly weds. He said "You won't wake up everyday madly in love. The hope is that you wake up and CHOOSE to stay anyway." We were married after dating for 2 years. He had proposed to me after the first year. At first we had normal fights, nothing we couldn't get over. The problems that we started with that stayed with us were my extreme use of sarcasm and his crippling jealousy. I am smarmy, down right rude at times. Often, I'm not even aware of how brash I am. He has a history of ex-girlfriends who cheated on him coupled with an already suspicious demeanor. We had our first child just 4 days before our first wedding anniversary. I settled into the mom role much better than I expected. I was a very stressed new mother, but things were fine mostly. Problems began though. Women who have children often discover than being a mother is wonderful, but being a mother figure to grown man is unacceptable. And men often shift their love and devotion from their wife to the new baby. This combination is deadly to a marriage. Two years later our second and final child came. By now things had become very stressed between us. He was still questioning every time I left the house and I was still smarting off with uncaring, shitty words of wisdom. We were becoming quite complacent. I had let him become one of my children. I was doing everything I could to keep him happy, not because I cared so much but because I didn't want to hear him bitch about anything. I'm sure he also didn't want to hear me bitch. Around 2 years ago he attempted to quit smoking. He failed but did not tell me. He kept it a secret for a long time. When I found out, I was devastated. Not because he was smoking, but because I was completely convinced that he was unable to lie to me about anything and he had succeeded so well. It even made me question how well I knew him. He would pull this "lying about quitting smoking" thing on me a few times before I told him I had become indifferent to it. I told him I refused to care about him if he was going to do that because I didn't want to feel bad anymore. I meant it. I started staying in my room. All the time. We didn't even eat dinner together. We had nearly no interaction between us at all. One year ago, I took the kids to stay at my mother's house and I told him I refused to live my life like this. I said all the problems must be fixed before I turned 30. And now, here we are...

     I told him how I felt. He was very upset. In nearly 10 years of a relationship, I've only ever seen him cry one other time. That would be when we were a new couple and I threatened to break up with him. This was much worse though. I crushed him. He was completely devastated and shocked. I have threatened him with divorce before, but it did not effect him. This time, he knew I wasn't bluffing. He is filled with hopelessness. When I told him, I felt nothing. I was trying to be tough to let him know this was real and I would not waver.  A day later I did finally relax and let the emotions sweep in. It was a tidal wave. I've never cried so hard in my life. I wasn't sad for putting my foot down. I was sad because I hurt him so much. I honestly didn't expect him to be so hurt. He never shows any hint of emotion to me. Never has. I felt he deserved it, but I don't like to hurt people. And even after all we'd done to each other, I still felt terrible for being the one to end it. Neither of have eaten well or slept at all for the last week. We are emotionally exhausted. Things are improving slightly. We can't cry anymore. This hurt has come on strong, in massive waves that are almost impossible to handle, but they're nothing compared to being over 30 and knowing you'll never get the guts to leave a bad situation. However, this is going to help us tremendously. He will be forced to take care of himself finally. He will also be forced to handle the kids on his own. I will be forced to get my life together. To stop hiding behind this computer.

    If anyone who personally knows us ever reads this, I'd like you to know that we never cheated on each other. Never. We both agreed that even if we hated each other, we'd never touch another person without breaking up. And we never hurt each other. We weren't necessarily bad to each other, we just didn't care. I just happened to get fed up first. It seems very sudden to most. That's because we've been pretending to be happy for a long time. He takes blame for breaking me and I take blame for giving up. We're both sorry, but we plan on being as civil as possible. We plan on evenly splitting the time with our children and even trying to be friends so that our children will see the positives of this change. These are all just plans, of course. I've promised to try to stick them above all other aspects. Wish us luck.

Indifference Sucks

Eventually.

    Eventually is a good word. It gives you hope. There is no specific time frame for "eventually" but you know it will happen someday. If there's one thing I've learned in nearly 30 years, it's that things always get better....eventually. I'm willing to admit that I'm not entirely sane, but I don't think most people are. It all depends on how you deal with it, I suppose. I've had my share of "the blues." I get down. I used to be down all the time. I kind of think I still am, but I've found a way to get over it a little. Some days are better than others. As a teenager I was a dramatic, emotional mess. That's improved greatly! I find that the older I get, the less sad I am and the more "I don't give a shit." I am. Maybe that's good, maybe not. The point is, every time I've been down and thought life cannot possibly get worse and in no way will it ever get better.....it did! Holy shit, did it. It's gotten so much worse...and then....better. Totally fucking better out of no where. Acceptance is a big part. You have to let things go and let them get better.

    Speaking of which, my situation with my mother has improved. It took a long talk, some admitting of fault, and some clearing up. Things seem good now. I have a shitty attitude, honestly. I need to work on it. But then there's the "I don't give a shit" bubbling up. Things to work on? No way....what for....who cares? My husband and I have things to work on. I don't want to work on it anymore though, honestly. I want it to be fine or not at all. Terrible way to look at things isn't it? Maybe I'm getting old. Don't want to bother with anything because I'm lazy. Or maybe I'm too old for this shit? I have noticed that I don't cry as much now. I used to cry every time I got upset. Now, it's like I don't care enough to cry. I don't know what's going on with me.

    When I have friends who are down, it really bothers me. I feel like if I could have survived the shit I dealt with, surely I can help them. Not that I have this profound effect on people. They pretty much never listen to me and I end not helping them at all. But I am persistent! I don't let people who feel sorry for themselves continue. That shit needs to be stopped, says I. I'm probably pretty goddamn annoying to people. Ah, I don't give a shit. It's going to get better....eventually!

A Message To My Friends.

Tyler Rigdon-Doupe
Arron Pelc & Will Mason
Kenneth & Brandon Peters
Shane Bullock
Meagan Titus

Others I'm not allowed to mention because they're still not out to their families. (Probably because of the same kind of people I'll now rant about.)


     Just got word that only 9 states have approved same sex marriage. What a fucking joke. I can't believe these asshats. Most of the country is FOR same sex marriage so how the hell does something like this happen? It's just like when the Electoral College votes against the majority. When will our so called "leaders" do what we need them to do? Never most likely. I'm still in awe that who you want to be connected with for the rest of your life is up to some dick politician in power. More than being absolutely fucking livid, I'm disappointed. I don't want to live in a country that is still discriminating against it's own goddamn citizens. And I'm sad. My friends. My personal friends who are some of the best people I know have been denied basic human rights by my government. It's a travesty. It makes me cry. My friends are resilient though. I know they'll press on. And I hope they can take solace in the fact that the government can only keep them from that piece of paper, not from who they love. I love all of you and I'm so very sorry.

Political Talk. RUN.

    Ok, so the thing that everyone's been talking about this week is equal marriage rights. Let me start off by saying the fact that this is even something that needs to be debated about is absolutely ludicrous. I have gay friends. I also have religious friends. They're all awesome. They're not assholes and they don't argue. You know why? Because this kind of shit is better left off the table of conversation. I know there is a large amount of people who believe same sex relationships are a sin. I don't understand or identify, but I'm aware of this. I want to know exactly how same sex marriages directly effect this group of people. How? Where is the mortal threat here? Now, if they want to get married in your church? Sure, pitch a fit. Whatever. Otherwise, no one is asking you to be involved. It's not your business who marries who. Not to mention, marriage is a intangible fucking thing. A marriage license is a piece of paper. I'm not even sure why the hell we bother with the law anyway! Unfortunately, we do and if we're going to call it a right or a privilege than EVERYONE should be allowed. It still just confuses the shit out of me that this is up for debate. People can marry their goddamn cousins! I'm fine with that too. I don't give a shit because it will never ever effect the way I live my life.

    I have at least a dozen gay friends. Men and women. They're good people who have wonderful "better halves" and I see no reason to let them live their lives like anyone else. They're not hurting anyone. If you want to protest someone you think is a sinner, go stand outside a prison and protest the release of child molesters awaiting parole. Do something useful with your religion. I don't want to come off like a Christian hater or anything. I've got a few friends who are die hard Christians, but they use their religion for good. They admit that they believe being gay is a sin and they don't agree with it, but they love all humans equally. They use their religion to be happy, help other people, and care for the human race when no one else will. These people are good people and they understand that it's not their business if gay people go to hell or not.

    My opinion on this doesn't matter. I can't effect the outcome for this and I can't convince anyone who thinks otherwise to suddenly change their mind. I know people who are set on bringing this huge step for equality down won't change their opinion about this. That's fine. They can oppose all they want. But the fact is, someday they'll have to realize that's not up to them. It's not anyone's business but your own who you love. Honestly, it shouldn't even be the government's business. Marriage shouldn't be a piece of paper. It should only be a ceremony in which you profess your love to most important person in your life in the company of your friends and family. It should be an open testimony. Not something for regulation, with limitations or paperwork.

Way Cool or Too Cool

    I have trouble discerning the difference between people who are way cooler than I am but are awesome because of it and people who are just too cool for me. I.E. Assholes. Sometimes I meet people and think "This person keeps to themselves. They don't talk much but when they do, it's genius. They seem pretty cool and easy going." Then I get to know them and realize "No, they're actually trying desperately to seem like they're awesome. They are condescending, insist on pointing out any mistake you make, and rarely admit any imperfect thing they've ever done. They're uptight dicks. Sure, they're probably cooler than you, maybe even smarter, but the fact that they feel the need to remind you of that with every conversation you have is goddamn annoying. If there's one thing I absolutely hate, it's people who are condescending to me. People who have an unearned sense of entitlement. Nothing will make my angry bitch switch flip like someone talking to me like I'm 5. Fuck you, buddy.

    What sparked this thought is someone on Twitter who tweeted "Sometimes being kind is better than being right." Why don't more people know this?! It should be common knowledge! I've never been that asshole who jumps people for being wrong and tells them how much I know immediately. It's just shitty. If someone says something completely incorrect and I feel that letting them know the truth will benefit them then I usually try to say something "I think it might actually be this." or "I thought that too, but..." What's wrong with cushioning the blow a little? I learned this lesson from being married. When you're married and your spouse says something wrong you can't just be that dick who calls bullshit on them. It can get you into a lot of fights. You have to be polite and say what you think is going on. Every thing runs so much more smoothly in a relationship if you're just polite, even when you don't want to be.

    When it comes to people you're not in a relationship with, why be polite? Oh, I don't know...to make your life a little easier maybe? Why run around starting shit with people all day just because they're opinion is different or they don't know their asshole from a hole in the ground? They're perfectly happy thinking that hole in the ground is their own personal oraphis. I know a couple people who are just contemptuous pricks all day every day. I try to be polite to these people but they just insist on patronizing others. We get it, you're goddamn cool! And no one gives a fuck. It wouldn't kill you to pull your head out of your ass and stop being so superior to the rest of the human race.

This ends our Public Service Announcement.

Anti-Social, Super-Online-Network-Social?

    What it is, blog? Ugh....I still need to come up with some witty name for this so I don't have to call it "blog." I don't have a particular reason to write tonight, type, whatever. I am trying to keep this thing more updated and use it more often. If nothing else, it allows me to clear my head so I don't think so much. I know, I know "How much could she think?", right?  Yeah, well.....I am currently enjoying the shit out some Starburst jellybeans and watching Army of Darkness while my kids pretend to be Linda & Ash via Evil Dead II. My kids are so goddamn awesome.
 
    I titled this one the way I did because it occurs to me that when people actually call wanting me to come out of my house and be social with them, I generally decline. I've got some awesome friends and I love hanging out with them, but I am a loner naturally. I enjoy being by myself. This is the why I've been sucked into the online network world so easily. I can converse with people (people like me) about everything I love and not worry about whether or not I'm being trendy, yet still be alone with my thoughts. It's pretty perfect for someone like me. I have been forcing myself to get out more though. I've got different kinds of friends. I've got cute, trendy, never a hair out of place friends (I don't really fit in with them and I don't know why they like me) and then I have awesome, quirky, rebel friends who I can identify more with but still feel like they're cooler than I am. I have a continual awkward feeling around pretty much everyone. I try not to show it. I tend to be the class clown type in those situations. Mostly because I'm trying to avoid silence. I'd like to think I'm pretty funny though. People certainly laugh at me a lot. Hmm....

    Some people have suggested that I write a blog about the movies I'm always watching. I could see running out of material for that though. Plus everything I "tweet" about movies is based on one-liner style. Can't possibly make a coherent piece out of that junk. Plus, I already know people that do that and do it very well. Plus I don't want anyone to accuse me of being a real critic. I'm not knowledgeable enough!

    What else can I fill in here? What's going on with me right now...? My wrists have become a problem. They hurt all the time. Especially the right which is odd because I'm left-handed. I'm sure it's carpal tunnel or something similar. It feels better when I wear the brace, but then when I take it off the pain rushes back in. Getting old sucks, y'all. And I'm not even old yet! I've bored the masses long enough. Hello? Masses?

Recurring Nightmares

    I love horror movies. If you didn't know that, shame on you. Pay some goddamn attention. Ahem. Most of them don't actually scare me though. There are a few that do for reasons I cannot fathom. Who knows why certain things scare the shit out of us as children and stick with us for our entire lives? The thing that I still think about at night when I go to bed is Zelda. In the book and film, Pet Sematary, Zelda is the sickly sister of the main character's wife, Rachel. When Rachel was young, her older sister was confined to her bed due to a serious (when is it not serious) case of Spinal Meningitis. This illness killed Zelda and Rachel routinely has flashbacks of her sister that she cannot separate from her day to day life. Zelda is grotesque. Terrifying, really. In the book she is described as crouching in Rachel's closet and watching her sleep through a crack in the door as her black tongue dangles out of her mouth. Fucking horrific, no?! In the film, the image of Zelda was burned into my brain. Every single night of my life from age 7 to 15 (no exaggeration), I would dream about Zelda sitting in the corner of my room and smiling at me. I used to watch cartoons until I fell asleep with the hopes that it would keep my mind off of her. I still watch Pet Sematary, but it wasn't until I was 16 that I could stay in the room during the scenes with Zelda. Bitch tormented me. And still does.
    The other recurring nightmare I had as a kid (3 to 10) was about something unexpected. I watched Cat's Eye once. Just once (until recently). All I could remember about it was the little troll that lived in Drew Barrymore's wall. He wasn't particularly terrifying, but as a very young child my brain turned him into something disturbing. This dream always started with me walking out of my parents' bedroom (my parents' bedroom in the crappy trailer we lived in in 1986, mind you). I walk to the living room because the T.V. is blaring with only snow on the screen. There is a severely ominous feel. I push the power button the T.V. It stays on. I feel slight panic. I unplug it. It stays on. More panic. And then I see the troll on the screen. He's not tiny like in the movie. He comes to the edge of the screen and proceeds to "escape" the T.V. Holy fuck, y'all! So, I run out the front door and just as I leave the edge of the porch, he gets me and I wake up. That dream, every night, for years and years. I can't really explain why this one scared me so badly.
    As an adult, my recurring nightmares are much more unusual. They aren't about monsters. It's like my brain plays tricks on my while I'm half asleep. I hear noises that sound like banging on the kitchen table or kids crying. Sometimes, I'm positive there's a person standing next to the bed. What's strange is once I have some illusion in my sleep that scares me awake, it keeps happening. My mind sets some sort of alarm in my head and not only do I repeat the same experiences every night, but usually at the same time of night. Last night I sat up in bed and listened to what I was sure was a screaming baby for at least a full minute. In my daze, I thought it was coming from my husband's clock radio. It will most likely happen again tonight. Strange how your mind can make you see and hear things.

Up Before 8am. NOT Intentionally.

    Being the mother of 2 children, it's normal that I should wake up before 8 am on a Saturday. That doesn't mean it's ok. It blows. I am not a morning person. I never have been. I'm more like a morning monster from the depths of Hell. And on top of hating mornings, I don't drink coffee. I get into a better mood around 10 am, but it wears off around 2:30 pm. I'm at my best at night. I get wide away around 7 pm. I generally don't fall asleep before 1 am. People who are all about mornings? I hate them. Shut up. They wake up feeling rested and refreshed. That has NEVER happened to me a single day in my entire life. I wake up feeling like death. I have a headache, a stomach ache, and my whole body hurts. I pretty much have a hangover every morning without actually consuming any alcohol. Fuck mornings.

    I always have this grand idea that on Saturday, I'm going to clean the house, do some shopping, clean out my car, do some scrapbooking (yeah, I like that shit), do some drawing......all things that I *plan on doing. Then the internet comes along and it's like "Oh, I have so many meaningless yet highly interesting things to tell you about! Don't you want to look at hilarious pictures of cats and Bruce Campbell?" Why, yes I do, internet. Then before I know it a couple hours have passed. So I abandon getting anything done at all, although I still have plenty of time.
   
    Today the agenda consists of making myself presentable (If I can accomplish this, the rest of the day is easy. When I look like shit, I refuse to leave the house), clean out the car (I'll actually enjoy this. My car makes me happy and I can make the neighborhood listen to my music at an obnoxiously loud volume), go grocery shopping (I fucking hate Walmart. People are always in my way and I want to injure them), rake the leaves in the yard (Someone's got to do it), and bar-b-que tonight (No dishes? Hot damn!). If I do all of these things today, I will be shocked and amazed. The first step is closing my laptop. Later, blog. I still despise the word "blog." You need a name, stupid blog. I will think on this...

They Come In 3's

    My mother says bad luck comes in 3's. She is a pagan. She believes in fate, natural order, and the healing power of nature. Luckily she has not asked me to dance naked in the moonlight ( that is a real thing). Anyway...She's told me this my entire life which means when something terrible happens to me, my first thought is always "Fuck it all, there are 2 more!" And...there usually are. What manner of dark sorcery, karmic raping is this?!!!

    Catastrophe 1: Hacked Bank Account

On Monday I received an email from Amazon alerting me that someone had opened an account with my card number. They knew it was lame, so they shut that shit down right away. I'm thinking "Wow, that could have been really bad." Then I check my bank account anyway, who knows why and HOLY SHIT! I don't remember spending that...or that....or that! Oh, no...I did spend that, but those other things I did NOT spend, no siree!!! So I call my bank. They are open, but no one is answering. Damn it. I text my friend who works at the bank and she gives me an extension to call (holla to having friends in mildly important places!). I tell them I have things on my statement that I did not do. They go into full "Holy fuck, we are incompetent"  mode and shut off my card. Great, I'll be writing checks at Casey's general store and Walmart for the next 2 weeks because not a single goddamn other place in town takes checks anymore and when I carry money it magically disappears. Then the bank informs me that I must personally try to collect said stolen money. They only step in when I am denied. Ugh...I hate being on the phone...and talking....to strangers...about business and money. There are phone numbers on every transaction on a bank statement. Good to know. The fraudulent transactions were all through Pay Pal. I call the number and even the girl at Pay Pal is like "Oh my God! I can't believe this happened to you!" I seem to be the only person underwhelmed by all of this. Pay Pal broad assures me everything will be fixed. I found out that my money was used to buy online gaming subscriptions. Oh ho ho, fuck you, internet nerds! I feel violated, angry, tired? Livid. In hindsight  though I realize that if this had happened any other time of the year except tax time, I would have been royally ruined. I'm normally quite broke and the bouncing fees would have been blinding. I might have gotten out of them, but I know my bank. It's a dick. And there would have been some heated argument.

    Catastrophe 2: Fuck the Police

In case I've not mentioned it before, I am a commercial driver. As with any job, I am continually pressured to rush everything I do. This is a bad combination. On Tuesday I was driving back from Willow Springs, a town 20 minutes away. The speed limit is 65. I was driving 75. I was caught doing so. The cop was a prick. They usually are. I am very polite to police until they hand me my ticket, then all bets are off. I'm a bitch, I hate them, and I want them to know it. He asked if I had any questions. I said "No thanks, I'm going to lose my job, you've done enough, bye." He says "I don't know what to tell you about that. You can talk to the prosecutor." Whatever, ball sack... I still had 7 more miles to think about what just happened. Am I really going to lose my job, why the fuck was I speeding, how far away is Mexico from here? I got back to the store and handed my boss the ticket. He and everyone acted like it was nothing. Apparently commercial drivers are allowed one ticket a year. Seems really irresponsible, but ok. I was laughing about it later.

    Catastrophe 3: Last Minute Bad News

Boss calls me into the office this afternoon. There's a phone call for me. It's the territory manager, a big wig who's actually not bad to deal with. He says "What's this ticket I've heard about?" I think I'm in trouble. Then he gives me a website to go to try and fix the ticket. No biggie. My boss tells me he has to write me up for "ignoring safety rules." Fucking fine. I call the prosecutor to make all this go away. On the ticket there is a box that says "Court Date." This box should have a date in it. Ta-da! It doesn't. It only says "Due in 30 days." I tell the prosecutor this and his tone turns somber. This means the cop, the dickless, fatass, prick cop, has intentionally denied me a court date and therefor "bypassed" the chance of the prosecutor fixing it. In my head, I am screaming. I really thought I could get through Friday without the 3rd catastrophe happening. Silly. I spent the rest of the day ignoring the feeling of worry in the pit of my stomach, taking deep breaths, and choking back to need to expel the screaming. I even escaped to the bathroom a couple times to get my shit together before someone discovered I was upset and asked me about it. As soon as I stepped in the door I started crying. My husband asked me what was wrong and I really started crying. I gave a truly accurate, but colorful explanation of how the week has beat me down and had a full on fit. Now, I feel fine. I'm not worried and I'm not upset. It is what it is. 

    And now, it is the muthafuckin weekend!

Twitling

    There is a term for people who have a false sense of entitlement. The "know-it-all". The person who argues for the sake of argument. The person who corrects everything they see. The person who calls "photo-shop!" on clearly photo-shopped things. The dick. Most of all, these people go out of their way to bitch at what other people have done, on the internet. I call them "Twitlings" A combination of the word "Witling-(derogatory) A person who considers themselves to be witty" and Twitter because Facebook is too difficult to merge with "witling." 
    I had an argument with one of these twits (see what I did there) yesterday. The subject was Adam Wingard. For anyone who doesn't know, Adam Wingard is the director of a few slightly known gems such as V/H/S, A Horrible Way to Die, and the upcoming V/H/S2 and You're Next (which I've heard great things about). The piece of work about to enter the ring is a short he directed for the film The ABCs of Death called "Q is for Quack." The ABCs of Death is literally the entire alphabet. 26 directors created 26 completely individual shorts for each letter they were assigned. It's impossible to judge this as a whole, of course. There are moments of genius, moments of fail, and moments that can only be described as WhatTheFuckness. However, "Q is for Quack" was one of my favorites and, in fact, what turned me onto Adam Wingard. It's witty, ironic, and funny but still gets the point across which is death. :)
    So, this twitling decides not only does he not like "Q" but he should tell Adam Wingard via tweet (fucking stupid term) that it is "a waste of time and money." This is the worst kind of twitling. They go out of their way to bitch about something someone has done to their (not really) face for no reason other than to start an argument and get attention. This infuriates me and the convo ensues as follows:
"Your opinion will surely make him (Adam Wingard) reevaluate all his movie making decisions."
 I'm the queen of sarcasm, HA-HA! 
Ahem. 
He says, "I didn't say that."
I say "You didn't have to. You intentionally implied that his work is not good enough for you."
He says "I'm giving him constructive criticism." 
Completely wrong because he A)Lacks the qualifications to do so. and B) Never actually said what he specifically found wrong with the segment or suggested what he would have done to make it better. Saying something sucks isn't constructive criticism, it's bitching.
I say "Tweeting directly to him about how his work is a waste of time and money is unnecessary and disrespectful."
He says "You're being disrespectful."
I say "You're right because I don't usually go out of my way to say negative things to strangers on the internet. I must be the ass here. Have a nice day."
I think it's over. Fuck all, it's not.
He ask "What's the difference of you commenting on a conversation you're not part of?"
At this point, I want to say "The difference, you stupid piece of shit, is between me calling your sister ugly and you getting mad about it or me walking up to you sister to tell her she's ugly at all!" i.e. There's a difference between pissing people off that you're not involved with and defending something you like. I didn't say that though because of Twitter's 140 character rules. I couldn't possibly explain anything effectively so I said "Right." and left him alone yet again.
He says "I'm glad you agree."
Whatever, dude.
He says "You're avoiding me because you don't know how to assert yourself."
Fuck, Imma have to kill his punk ass.
My final comment to him was "Have a nice life, you pretentious waste of internet space"

    It's bullshit, I tell you. Bullshit! I got over it quickly though. In the aftermath these things always seem ridiculous. The best analogy I've ever seen to describe these Twitlings is this:

People who take the time to bitch at other people about the things they see on the internet are like people who see dog shit on a sidewalk and rather than walk around it, they intentionally step in it and then complain to everyone around them about said dog shit.

End.

My Mother.

A few days ago my mother called me. As I was at work, I could not answer. When I left work, I listened to her voice mail. "I'm in the E.R. Call me." Instant panic took over. I even yelled out "Oh, no!" without realizing. I immediately called her. She could not have answered quickly enough. In the short walk to my car I had completely run out of breath. "Hey, are you ok?!" Her voice was soft as usual. "Yeah. My heart was acting up and I had some chest pains." On the phone, my response was "Ok." as in "You're still alive, that's good" but in my head my response was "Oh no no no, this isn't happening, I'm not ready for these kinds of things to happen."

My grandmother just passed away last year. She was my mother's mother so naturally they looked very much alike. Almost identical. My mother and I are nearly night and day if it weren't for our eyes. Watching my grandmother deteriorate very quickly was upsetting on it's own. However, what I couldn't seem to look past was the thought "What will I do when this happens to Mom?" And then, in this moment on the phone, there was a flash of this thought again. In that moment I thought of Mom's several thousands of personal items, the welfare of my teenage brother and sister, my own mortality, and mostly hers. I sat in my car, freezing because I hadn't thought to put the key in the ignition yet. And I had also kept my eyes shut while she was speaking. It was almost as if I was hoping it was a nightmare.

She was waiting on test results. They couldn't be sure of what was causing her troubles without lots and lots of tests, of course. She said she would call me back as soon as they gave her an answer. I went back into the store and sat in the break room, having a stupid amount of trouble trying to keep my hands still. I kept my phone on me and waited for her to call back. When she did I was at the top of a latter and nearly fell off because I knew it was her. "All I can say is that my life is pretty plain...." I answer the phone. She explained that it wasn't a heart attack. Huge waves of relief wash over me briefly. It turns out the problem is ulcers. Ulcers in her stomach and esophagus are affecting her right heart valve and keeping it from working like it should and the feeling is very similar to a heart attack. They hope that with acid reflux medication this problem will fade.

This situation reminds me of a couple of years ago when my dad told me he was going to have a large chunk of his lip cut out due to sun damage and cancer. Although both diagnoses sounded scary and life-threatening in the beginning and both turned out to be relatively harmless and mild, they both made me panic and face the thoughts I had been trying to escape. No one wants to watch their parents die. Neither of my parents have lead healthy lives. They both have their fair share of problems. I don't want to lose them. I don't want my kids to lose them. I don't want to handle things when they're gone. Who will I turn to? And what will the days leading up to the end be like?

2013

I haven't even looked at this page in a very long time. I had imagined originally that I would use this page to rant, release, draw out all the stresses in my life. I haven't used it lately...and it shows. I wouldn't call myself depressed. Of course I wouldn't. That would make me seem as if I were fishing for pity and just the idea makes my skin crawl. However, if I'm being completely honest, I do believe that if I had the time, money, or care to visit a doctor of some kind they might tell me that I am not balanced. I have a very bad temper and I regularly feel sorry for myself for no particular reason. I cry...often. I would say there was a period in my life around college when I didn't cry as much, but as a teenager and as a post children woman I cry quite a bit. Then again, I also have happy moments; usually to myself. Don't read into that too much. I think I've written about these happy moments before. They usually occur when I hug my children or when I hear the perfect song or when the breeze blows through my hair and the temperature is that magical temperature that you can't really feel whether it's warm or cool. Those moments are fleeting, but during those moments I feel as if nothing is wrong. Everything is complete and perfect in my life. Almost as if I could "die happy." I wish I had more of those moments. As much as I feel I have terrible times, I also feel that my perfect times are more frequent than the perfect times that other people experience; even people who seem happier than I am. I generally do not smile. It's not that I want people to think I'm sad, it's just that I don't like to seem fake. I think there are some people in the world who are genuinely happy enough to walk around with a constant smile, but mostly I think the kind of people who walk around with a constant smile are faking it. That's their own business and if they're good at it, who cares really? Faking is not for me, though. I just can't do it. My face has a shape that revolves around a natural frown and eye brows that turn when I don't want them to. My face looks unhappy all the time when, in fact, I'm indifferent. I am coasting though without cares. And yet, I still believe that my happy moments are an anomaly.

No one would possibly believe this about me, but when I was in college I wrote a speech on happiness. It was the sort of thing you would expect from some neo-hippie type of cheery person, not me. At the time I was pretty happy. Life was simple in college and I could do whatever I wanted to. I had no ties to anyone else and was free to think only of myself. I can't remember all of that speech. I do remember one of the closing lines though. "Imagine...how much better this world would be if we all were happy. And happiness isn't something you have to force. You can build it. It's already in you. You just need to find it and keep it." It sounds very corny, I know. At the time, I had mastered the idea of "letting things go" and just being happy on purpose. I still believe that is possible, but now, for me, it is much more difficult to obtain. I have bills I can't pay on time. I have a dead-end job but no ambition to go above it anyway. I have 2 children who constantly fight over who's touching who. I have a husband who by his own account is completely without the ability to express himself or do things on his own. I have days when I cannot get out of bed. I'm not old or injured, I just don't want to do anything...ever. I am lazy and without purpose.

So why do I ever have those perfect moments? Why do they come at all? I believe there is a spark in my brain. That spark wants to be happy and productive and energetic. How do I bring this out more? I can't change my situation. I have to change my thinking. New Year's resolutions are seemingly pointless. No one ever sticks to them. I never come up with any. A new year to me is just another year. Not a "clean slate" or a "second chance." Next year I will be 30. 30 is a big deal to a woman. I have wrinkles now and my hips hurt all the time (I need to lose weight). I can't change any of this.

There are people in this world who always do their best no matter what. I need that mentality. So where do I get it? It's already there. I need only to utilize it. And I plan on it. I plan on making myself get up and do. Do whatever needs to be done. For the new year I will "get over it." That is my New Year's resolution.