extra sodium, drool and lung cookies
Category: Life

 my 35th birthday is rapidly approaching.... faster than a barefooted kid can screech down a steep hill on a big wheel.  There is no stopping it... (without a visit from the angel of death)... and yet i dread it with all of my worn out might.
thirty flippin five...and what have i done? 
I have no degree.  I am not even remotely full of endless knowlege.  Most days I am convinced that my cats love me more than my kids and I still need dear old dad to pony up the benjamins to help me license my car!!!
35 god damnit!
35 and depressed. 
I figure with my life style: smoking like a stack, chowing down mcdonalds (with extra salt) and drinking myself into a smelly drooling stupor, It will be a miracle if my body makes it to the ripe old age of 70.  WHICH MAKES ME MIDDLE AGED TODAY.
Im a middle aged bar hag.  A middle aged smoking, drinking, junk food eating, non exercising, uneducated, soon to be divorced, more used up than an 18 hour old tampon,bar hag.... Oh, and lets not forget that I suck down diet pop like its going outta style and will probably have alzheimers by the time I reach 40... which is only 5 measly years away.
I am a self professed slow learner and even I cannot fathom how this is just finally occuring to me now.
All of these years squandered.... and the qualities that I have put the most effort into is a pair of black chunky lungs and a half pickled liver.
Egads... this is depressing and I am sorry for subjecting you all to my self induced misery.  Blame it on the captain and diets.  all nine of them.
At this rate I can only pray that the alzheimers kicks in a bit early so when Im carting my stomach around in a wheel barrow, hauling an oxygen tank behind me and heading to the beer garden of my favorite bar, i will be so far gone I wont realize how utterly pathetic I am, despite it being beyond evident to everyone else around me.
WOO HOO!  Happy middle aged birthday to me.
Before you know if I will be rocking it in polyester, elastic waisted pants, sporting a bald spot, crooning away in a voice that would make that one bitch who sang Bette Davis eyes jealous.
Yay 35.
Yay me.

1:56 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

what if everything you ever wanted, came in a ROCKET CAN?
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

Check out this video: PowerThirst 2

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11:22 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

pawn shops and cheesy tots.
Current mood: triumphant
Category: Life

I took a deep breath and swung back the door.  The string of bells jangled my nerves and announced my arrival to a dimly lit room full of strangers, each peddling and selling secrets of their own.
All eyes on me as I turned my head away and stared down at my feet.  I don't know why being here made me feel so dirty.  Shame so dense it was difficult to lift my head.  And I fought against a very real urge to turn around and make the bells scream again while I assaulted the door from the opposite side.
"Whatcha need?"  His voice was booming in the otherwise silent store, and it caused me to jump a little.  Like a small child being caught sneaking a cookie before supper time.  He looked wild to me... with his unkempt hair and sweat ringed shirt.  He was burley, unshaven and his teeth rivaled those from my favorite childhood book "Where the Wild Things Are."  Gnashing and terrible. Yellow and fierce.
"Umm..."  was all I was able to say.  My heart was hammering clear up to my throat making the chore of speech unsoundly.
"YA NEED SOMETHIN?"  He bellowed it as though with a bull horn and instead of jumping this time, I actually leapt.  backwards.  about three feet away from the counter.  Shame began to teeter on the edge of anger and  I wanted to inform him that I was not deaf.  That this was not natural for me and I would appreciate some patience and privacy if at all possible. I wanted to scream "FUCK YOU.. Cant you see I am drowning here in your dusty store with your sketchy looking clientèle... and increasing the volume of your voice is not doing a damn thing to speed up this hideous process ???   SO fuck you, shut up and give me a mother fucking minute."   I also wanted to wet my pants.  I didn't do either.
Instead, with a beet red face and heavy cumbersome feet I trudged back up to the counter.  I did not attempt to muster up even one single solitary word.  I dumped my bag and watched the gold glint and spill in every direction across the smudged glass top.
He swept them into quite an impressive pile with his big meaty mitts and then squinted with a scope up to his eye.  He picked each item up separately and examined them... making two piles.  One for keeps and the other for the shitter I thought to myself.  Although both piles were nothing but shit to me.  My shame propelled me in another direction as I wandered off to inspect other people's pain within the glass cases and upon the dusty shelves.  It was better than watching this tactless giant examine a decade's worth of my own.
"I can only offer you $815.00 for all of this... And we don't buy pearls"
I told him I did not care, in a voice that, to my relief did not crack or croak.
He raised a bushy eyebrow and stared right at me... He stayed that way until I met his gaze.
"Yer shure then?"
I nodded.
"Ya pawnin.... or sellin'?"
And I looked him straight in his face for a second time and told him I never wanted any of it back.  He could have offered me fifty bucks and I would not have cared.
Everything that had once been so important to me... Items that I had held so dear... I just wanted them and their memories gone.
"Ya might wanna try yer luck with the pearls at a jewelry store downtown" he informed me as he counted out the cash that my everything had bought.
"You can just throw them away."
Again he arched his eyebrow and looked at me. I felt like he thought that it was ME that was wild and possibly crazy.
"Or you could give them to your mom or girlfriend"  I offered.  And he smiled and laughed.  And his teeth no longer appeared so terrible and he didn't seem quite as unkempt.
"Well thanks then... I'll do that."  He handed me the wad of bills and bid me goodbye.
I thanked him.  I turned to make my way back towards the door and he called from behind..."You gonna be OK hon?"
And I looked back and nodded.  I thought to myself I'm gonna be better than OK.  I'm going to Burger King right now for a diet coke and some cheesy tots.  I'm going to call my friend and pet my cat. And all that jewelry never brought me an ounce of happiness anyways... and finally realizing that will make me happiest of all.
I continued on and realized that I no longer felt any shame or dread.  I felt lighthearted and free. I held my head up high as I opened the door and paused for a moment... listening to the beauty of the bells as they sang to me a sweet song of goodbye.

2:57 PM - 7 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

my bastard of a boat.
Current mood: blustery
Category: Life

I am a second guesser.  I never trust my gut instinct right away.  I have to wait until it has been trying to tell me something for so long that it has turned into a gurgling cess pool... the mother of all ulcers... and even then I still wonder. 

"Man Stephanie, what if your wrong?  What if you make a mistake?  Are you jumping to conclusions?  Do you really know what your talking about?  Are you certain that you want to do this?"

I trust everyone else more than I trust myself. 

And I am learning slowly that I hate that about myself.                        

Perhaps I am a second guesser.... and a slow learner.

My mother must be so proud.

And it’s got me wondering... Is that something I can retrain myself on?  Can I teach myself to listen to myself?  Can I learn to love my own person enough that the thought of making a mistake no longer terrifies me?  Can I learn to just make a decision         (preferably in under three days) and stick with it, no matter what? 

Someone once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again yet expecting different results.

How many times will I allow myself to be burned before moving my hand out of the flame?  How many times will I forgive the same misdeed before I stop looking for the good in people?  How many times will I let people who have done me wrong back into my world only so they can mistreat me all over again?

I keep imagining that one spooky lady  from the infomercials years ago.. with the shaved head  and ripped abs screaming STOP THE INSANITY... over and over and over some more.  I wish she would shut the hell up as I am pretty sure that I hate her. 

Yeah... pretty sure, since I am unable to decide 100%.

And I am pretty sure that I’m feeling a little fucking crazy right now.  I hope it is ok to be blunt.  Or maybe it’s not.  Maybe my swearing will offend someone.   Or  maybe it sounds better if I just leave it on.  Maybe I should not post this at all.  Maybe I could set it to private. 

Maybe I am coo coo for coca coca puffs. 

What if this is just the way I will always continue to be.  Maybe it is innately embedded in my genes... kinda like a pedophile or a sociopath.  No amount of counseling or therapy are gonna fix those poor bastards... What if I am floating in the same bastard of a boat with them? 

How in the hell do I get off this boat?!

I have always been this way for as long as I can remember.  And it’s not just major life changing decisions that I’m referring to here.  It could be which shoes do I want to wear?  Which paint do I want for my dining room?  Which movie would be better to see?  Which outfit should I wear today?  Which friends are my true ones?  Which ones really are not good for my person or my soul? What am I hungry for? Which way should I go to get there?

Which way indeed.

There are a few things that I DO know for sure. 

I know that no matter how many times I threaten to sell my children, I don’t really mean it.

I know that over boiling pasta results in a mushy,nasty paste, that I don’t care to ingest.

I know that I am a good person with a good heart despite my many many neurotic flaws.

I know that I don’t like white socks with black shoes.

I know that I would do anything for someone I love...and often times even for someone I dont.

I know I’m thankful for my big heart no matter how many times I may let myself down or set myself up for inevitable failure... for heart ache and pain...         whether it be a friendship or a relationship.  A grudge or a ghost.

I know that I will endure much much more heartache in my life... along with joy, sorrow, regret and wonder.

1:09 PM - 5 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

wonderful you
Current mood: thankful
Category: Friends

I want you to know that you are beyond amazing... even when you don't believe it.
I want you to know how beautiful you are... even when you don't feel it.
I want you to know that I am spellbound every time I see the transformation in every face, in a sea of faces, when they see you enter a room.
I want you to know that you are worthy... in spite of being mistreated.
I want you to know that I know you are honest, even when the other party is undeserving.
I want you to know that you are a phenomenal person and parent... even when you feel like ripping your own hair out.
I want you to know that when I read your words, The plethora of emotions is astounding.  You take me from tickled to elated.  From saddened to haunted.  From thankful to thoughtful... and then back again.
I want you to know that there is not even one single person in my entire life who reminds me of you.  I want you to know I wish more people could mean to me what you do... But than again, maybe not.  The fact that no one else comes close is what makes you so special.
I want you to know that I have never had a bad time with you ever.  Even when everyone and everything around us sucked in its entirety.
I want you to know that you are strong.  And it is inspiring.
I want you to know that I am in constant awe of the you that I first met, and the you that you have evolved into over the many long years since.
I want you to know how much it means to me that I have rarely ever seen you angry, but in my defense, your blood was boiling.
I want you to know that you are one of the few people in my world that I don't fear judgment from.  I am never tempted to be anyone but me when it comes to you.
I want you to know that I recognize that for the rare gift that it is, and I love you for it.
I want you to know how good you are for my soul.  And how much I would be lacking were you not a part of my world.
I want you to know that I firmly believe that this is true for sooooooo many others, other than just me.
I want you to know that my heart stopped in my throat when I feared that you may be hurt and the sudden silence in a crowded room deafened me.
I want you to know that out of all those people, crammed in that room, not one single person laughed or pointed or shrugged it off.  It occurred to me then, as it has many times before, that you mean something to everyone.  And no one forgets it... no matter how many drinks they have tossed back.
I want you to know that I don't know anyone else that this is as true for.
I want you to know I find it nothing short of incredible.
I want you to know that I would gladly fall down and crack my head and bleed on the floor if I knew that people felt that same way about me.
I want you to know that no one could... because there is only one you.
I want you to know she is amazing.
I want you to know that I would gladly kick anyones ass that tried to argue that fact.
I want you to know that I am proud of you and your person... even when you cant possibly fathom how or why.
I want you to know that you are not perfect.
I want you to know how refreshing and wonderful it is that you don't pretend or try to be.
I want you to know that I respect that so much more than my mere words can convey.
I want you to read my words and know that they are true.
I want you to be less hard on yourself.
I want you to always know that you are loved.
I want you to know that none of us would have you any other way.
I want you to embrace yourself.
Beautiful, flawed, fearless, quirky, fragmented you.
I want you to know that I envy your light.
That you have nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. 
It is the rest of us that do.  We fall so short of you.

See you next weekend beautiful girl.
I want you to know it is true.

3:39 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

goals, gripes and guacamole.
Current mood: fragmented and frazzled

So it is time for Stephanie to find a job.  Or take some classes.  Or do something!
I applied and got a job at Chipolte's, but then never bothered to show up because they wouldn't let me make the guacamole... That was the whole reason I went there in the first place.  Apparently you have to work yourself up to the point where you can be trusted to make my beloved gauc.  Maybe that is why it is so good..(So god damned good). Only the guac expert gets to do it.  Truthfully I got so much shit from so many people when I told them I was going to work there.... they all seemed to be waiting for a punch line... Who would actually WANT to work in food service for the fine fine rate of $7.10 per hour...?  "Are you kidding me?"  "Are you feeling ok?"  "Are you fucking crazy?" "Are you depressed?"  "Why are you selling yourself short?"
FINE.
I really just thought it could be a good time... Get me out of the house a bit, meet some new people and not have to worry about having any job related stress.  This sister is stressed enough on a day to day basis, and every day that I manage not to mangle or kill someone I thank the good lord above, because I know that on most days, I cant take credit myself.  This stress will inevitably improve once my divorce becomes final and my financial status improves.  I will hopefully go back to  just being a part time bitch by the time it is all said and done.
But now I am stumped.  If I cant make the guacamole...what the hell else would I like to do?  I have compiled a list for your reading pleasure...

1.  Host my own talk show.  Half Sally Jesse... Half Jerry Springer style.  If Ricki Lake can do it, I know I could.
2.  Drive a monster truck
3.  Write a book, End up on Oprah's Book club list, and become insanely rich overnight.
4.  Open a club strictly for people 30 and over.  21 year olds are stupid.  I don't have the patience for them.  I live with three kids full time already. Most 21 year olds would benefit from taking a healthy dose of SHUT THE FUCK UP.
5.  Have my own advice column.  Where people write in with their problems and woes and shit.  I would not sugar coat a thing.  "Dear Desperate in Detroit, If you think he is cheating, HE IS.  Chop off his no good lying undersized member and find yourself a real man, or the closest thing to it that you are able to muster up.  If that doesn't help, try a chic."  Maybe my column could be called Stephanie says it like it is, Or Stephanie spills it.  I dunno.  I will have to ponder the perfect name some more.

The problem is... none of these things were listed in the Sunday want ads while I was browsing through, looking for some form of obtainable employment.  My options were more or less, CNA, secretary or telephone operator.
All things that I have already done.  And done well I might add.  But I have wiped enough asses for one lifetime.  Not to mention all of the asses I have kissed.
I'm hungry for something new.  Something different.  And the income that I will earn is not even the most important part to me (although it probably should be).
I want to find something that I enjoy.  Somewhere I want to spend my time.  Somewhere that never asks me to work evenings, weekends or holidays.
I have been far too spoiled for far too long.  I want the perfect schedule.  I could go back to the Hospital in a heartbeat and make good money... but only if I sign away my soul every other weekend.  My weekends are important to me.  They are my kid free time.  Yes I love my kids.  Yes I love when they go with their dad.  No I don't care to spend my kid free time doing any form or manner of work.
But again... It is time to do SOMETHING.  I cant continue to spend my days obsessively  cleaning like a strung out crack head... nor can I clickity clack my days away on the computer. (Unless I'm getting paid with weekends off) If my ass is going to grow and spread from sitting on it all damn day, I better be getting paid. 
I guess it boils down to the fact that I am bored.  Crawling outta my skin bored.
I need a way to spend my days.  And shopping is now out, since I have been living on borrowed funds for the last three months.  If I leave the house, I tend to spend money.  When I stay home I wanna go insane.  God damned Chipolte's and their stupid guacamole guy.  I know I could have rocked that guac. 
Sigh.
I hope I get it figured out soon.  My ass is asleep as I speak.

8:39 AM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

chocolates, cards and herpes.
Current mood: adored
Category: Romance and Relationships

I read the best blog ever... It was entitled, "Roses are Red, Violets are blue, If you have a date for Valentines Day, I hope she gives you herpes."
A hate letter for whomever "invented" Valentine's Day followed. I was an instant fan of that blog because single woman HATE Valentines Day.  LOATHE it.  DESPISE it.  ABHOR it.
The thing that I don't think that many single woman realize is, that many many "taken" woman hate it just as much... if not  inherently more.  And really when you think about it and the expectations associated with it... It's really just a giant  "fuck you" waiting to happen.
 It's like "Hmmm... your always a douche bag, You are never considerate, Your a damn slob, Poker night is priority, And you only want to fuck me when your drunk.. BUT it IS Valentines Day, So I know that you will suddenly have acquired a new skill for more than decent hygiene, You will not neglect to tell me how beautiful I am, or how lucky you are to have me, You will develop a new and fantastic joy for loading the dishwasher, ... And you would rather lie in bed with me cuddling and watching assorted chic flicks over poker with the guys anytime.
UH...HELLO??? HEAD TRAUMA ANYONE??!!!
What is it about Valentine's day that makes us forget, despite everything we know about our partner and his true characteristics, a very firm and unbudging expectation that he will suddenly be fabulous and tender and wonderful?  I mean come on?  We don't believe in the tooth fairy.  We don't believe in Santa.  We don't believe in Super man... We don't believe in Neverland.  Why in the fuck do we believe that our schlep of a letdown of a man will suddenly become Rico Suave just because its fucking February 14th?!??
 If we can really believe that, why cant we swallow the notion of a fat man traveling around the entire world in only one night via reindeer's and chimneys?  I don't see how it could be any more likely or any less logical.
I think it is because we believe in love.
  We as woman honor and cherish that notion... and it elates us and it carries us... right into a big,black pit of despair and self wallowing when we realize that our man either can't or won't even come close to reaching our romantic expectations... not even on a day when it is deemed mandatory. This is why Valentines day sucks for "taken" women.  It is brutal on their self esteems to have their dreams crushed by a card that came two days late and only after they bitched and bawled for two days to get it.
 It sucks for single women too.
 Single woman  feel so lonely and desolate... incomplete if you will.  Valentines day is a stinging reminder of what they don't have... what they consider themselves to be lacking.  When in reality if the taken woman gave her man to the single woman the single woman would likely be unhappier than she was alone and single in the first place.
I have spent many Valentines day's single, and many more "taken".
They both blow.
But I still believe in love. 
I don't delight in a day that mandates it... but the thought of cupids arrow still quickens my heart and deepens my dimples.
So while I say fuck Valentines day... I don't say fuck love.  I think that once you are with the right person every day is like Valentines day... and you don't need a National holiday,created by corporate card companies, to be reminded of how grateful and blessed you are.
For the rest of the ladies, single or otherwise... Once you learn to love yourselves as much as your man or as much as the thought of a good man, Valentines day will no longer be able to make, or more likely, break you.
 I say buy your own damn box of chocolates, know within yourself that you don't need a fancy gift to find yourself amazing and thank your lucky stars that single or not... you don't have herpes.
Happy fucking Valentines Day!
I, for one, am not waiting for Valentines Day. 
I believe in love today.

7:52 PM - 8 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

CRAFTY BARNARDO
Current mood: AARGGHH!

Crafty Barnardo.
You may not know him on a name to name basis, but you know his type.
You know him alright.
Your Crafty Barnardo may be an acquaintance, a relative, a plague or even a friend.  Maybe he's your neighbor, Or the weird, creepy dude always hanging around EVERY TIME you stop into the closest, cheapest gas station.
Yours may go by another name...
But we ALL know him. 
That schiesty, get rich quick, plotting, "I don't wanna work for the man", "Can I bum another smoke", "I promise I'll pay you back this time", "Hey can I catch a ride", "I don't have any cash" "Dude...you gonna finish all that pizza...?", scheming King of BS'ers.
This is the lech who got every student loan he could, and spent every last cent... yet never purchased one single solitary book, or attended even one class.
This is the dude who enlisted 3 fellow Barnardo's and bummed a ride for all 4 of them from one of the few name to name relationships he is able to maintain...who does in fact "work for the man", thus IS actually able to afford a car.
Destination? 
To go apply for emergency food stamps.. so they can sell them to pregnant crack mama's and use the money to throw a kegger, overcharge people at the door and score a profit.
 "Sweet Duuuuuuuuude"
This guy will clean out your single mother of two refrigerator and then toss every last cushion on your couches, hoping to scrounge up enough change for some gut bomb quarter taco's... which he will, of course. require a ride. from you. to get.

"GET A JOB!"

"Fuck you!... I donated yesterday."

He is the pro athlete of couch surfing and does it with amazing precision and skill.  He isn't ashamed and will squat in incomplete new home constructions until enough time has passed so he can recycle his list and start a new six month stint of mooching and leeching all over again.

It's like having my very own Dupree, albeit it not nearly as good looking, despite sharing the same nose.

Due to not "working for the man", Crafty Barnardo has more free time than the average Joe.  This gives him plenty of opportunities to come up with new and improved ways to fuck with people's serenity... DAILY.
It's not uncommon for him to call me TWENTY plus times a day.  I purposely don't answer half of the time, but that only makes it worse.  He is very insistent.  And of course he had to call again and again.... How could I possibly expect him to wait to share the story about that one time when he shaved his balls...?
"Dude... It sucked so bad,  I will NEVER do that shit again."
"Sigh... why is that Barnardo?... Is it hard to shave balls?"
"Yeah man!... you gotta smash 'em out all flat, and then stretch it out like a bat wing"
"Do we really have to discuss your bat balls right now?"
"Shit man... whats your problem?...Like you've got anything better to do."
"Actually, I have one kid in the tub, food that needs stirring on the stove, laundry that needs folded and an eighth grade English essay to help my other kid type."
"Well la dee fuckin dah!... It's not like your doing brain surgery."
CLICK.
(Crafty Barnardo is deeply sensitive... for and to himself..and only himself.)  He often hangs up on me.. when I bother to answer.  This is his way of letting me know that he is displeased with my attitude and/or schedule.
He never stays mad long enough though.... thirty seconds later... RING RING RING.
I don't pick up.  He calls again.  Again, I don't pick up.  Fourteen calls later I finally answer ... partially out of fear that he has filled my entire answering machine tape AGAIN, and partially because if I have to hear him singing my name repeatedly in his very best "Elmo on crack" voice even five more seconds, my ears may just begin to bleed.

"Barnardo, I've still got my hands full... can I call you later?"
"Dude.. I'm on the bus right now and you should see this chic"
(me, inwardly cringing... afraid to ask yet knowing it will just be better to get it over with.)
"Why?  Is she hideous or hot?"
"Dude!... She's so damn hot I would eat the peanuts outta her shit."
(this statement is unpleasant enough...It is however especially disturbing,when you are knuckles deep in a raw mass of cold, semi bloody meat loaf.)
"Don't you mean corn?"
"Nah man.  You can shit peanuts."
"Hmm... Corn would show up better. Can I call you later?"
"Don't fucking bother man!  I would hate to put you out!"
CLICK
Twenty seconds later he is crooning into my answering machine... "Pick up!  I know you are there.  Pick up!  Why you gotta be sucha bitch?  PICK UP DAMNIT!  Call me back Steph infection... ya hear me? CALL ME BACK!"
Oh for the love of God.
Somebody please shoot me now.
Some days are better than others.
There are times when Barnardo can surprise you.
"Why don't you swoop me up and we'll go get Tacha's and beer."
"Really?"
"Shit ya man.. Tachas and beer bitches!  Roll out!  Let's go!"
"Alright..sounds good,see you in a bit."
An hour later after gorging so many Tachas and sucking down so many beers..(Barnardo never knows when or what he may be eating next so he tends to be quite gluttonous) his T-shirt now seems three sizes smaller than it did when we arrived.
"Dude.. you look like the Incredible Hulk if he turned white,went bald and didn't do sit ups."
I laugh at my own clever wit.
"Ha ha... You know what's even funnier than that?"
"What?"
"Our bill is 45 bucks... and I don't have any cash."
Fucking hilarious... right?  And no.  He is not kidding.
I said he will surprise you.  I didn't say it would be in a good way.
I do have oh so much more to tell you about Crafty Barnardo... Unfortunately I will have to resume this at another time.  He is here right now.
  Know how I know?
 Because the bastard works the doorbell the same way he does the phone.

8:53 PM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

gotta love it
Category: Life

THINGS THAT I LOVE......

Cobwebs minus the spiders
Sunny days and flip flops
A baby's toothless grin
Creamy peanutbutter and chocolate ANYTHING
My children's laughter
Getting it right on the very first try... or at least the second.
The smell of gasoline
Being surrounded by my true family.... all of my friends
Rainy days spent entirely in bed
Waking up alone by choice
Great hair days
Waking up with someone by choice
Singing in my car, even if people stare.. sometimes especially then!
Fireworks and hotdogs... hotdogs ONLY EVER taste good on the fourth of july
Floating, splashing, swimming... anything in the water
Knowing that there is not even one single thing that I am procrastinating on
Menthol cigarettes on a sore throat
My lovers eyes
Learning something I did not know before
The crackle and pop of a fire in the fireplace when it is shared
Doing the right thing, even if I have to force myself at first
Certain text messages
Shoes that dont leave blisters
Double rainbows
A bright moon... full, half...a sliver... it dont much matter
Rocking ass sexy sex sex sex.... i cant lie
My kids showing good manners without me prompting them first
Holding hands and skipping
Being productive
Knowing a secret and actually keeping it... this one is rare
Laughing so hard my side hurts
Making someone else laugh that hard
Brown rice with peas
Fuzzy, warm, worn in slippers
Praying because I am just that thankful
My mothers smile.

6:11 PM - 5 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

oh me oh my...
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes

Why do they call it taking a shit, when your actually leaving it?
My friend asked me this at brunch the other day and it cracked me up.
Such a stupid thing... but it made me laugh.... and it got me thinking.
No, I am not spending my days and nights obsessing on various bowel movements.  Im trying to spend more and more time appreciating those fleeting moments that life hands us, you know the ones.... the happy, carefree ones.  The ones that shine a light on the shadows of your soul.. the ones that make you laugh so ridiculously hard that soda pours through your nose. The ones that take away the stress and troubles of your world and replace it with the freeing innocence of a far younger child.. . . no matter how briefly it may be...
Your only as old as you feel.
We have all heard that one.  That got me thinking too.  How old is my soul?  Does it matter if my casing looks good in a new pair of jeans, if my innards are decrepit, dusty and foul?  Does the new purse I scored really equal happiness...?  I know that it does not.  It makes me feel good for a bit, but it wears off like a crusty bandaid in a swimming pool...only twice as fast. Yet  how many times have I tried to trick myself into feeling happy?  When is the last time that purchasing something elated me so much that i snorted out loud or gave me a real and genuine fear of " If I dont stop laughing like this, I am seriously going to piss myself"..?
Thats why those moments are fleeting.  Thats why they are such a beautiful and sacred gift in our lifes.... when we take the time to acknowlege and appreciate them.  Thats my goal. 
Dont get me wrong.... I may still tickle my own fancy over a great score at whatever store I may find myself in... but luck and happiness are not the same thing in my book anymore.  And a great conversation with a true friend rocks the shit out of a new pair of jeans ANY day.  So for now, Im talking a good talk... but today I did not even come close to walking the walk.. .   Today I was blue.  In a foul ass funk that I cant even determine the origin of.  How many oppurtunities for happiness did I miss out on today?  Unless it was a really really blatant one...  I guarantee I snubbed it.  And what the hell good does that do for my old, dusty, aging soul?  Not much I am sure. BUT... at least I am becoming more conscious of my choices... I am aware of them and can choose to make different ones tomorrow.  So Im not going to worry about walking the walk today... because once I get this down... there wont be much walking going on.
 This girl is gonna be dancing.

5:29 PM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

THIS IS NOW
Current mood: accomplished

What I considered to be my greatest fear has turned out to be my largest blessing.
I didnt realize this right away of course...  Weeks of desperation and self loathing and uncertainty hollowed out my core.
My irrational brain carried the mind set that I would be nothing without you.
That I was unworthy and unlovable and invalid.
But once I reflected on a decade of dissappointments and broken promises and harsh words and harsher hands, it dawned on me ...
I dont regret my time.  I dont even regret my choices.  I get to keep the best part of you, the only part I care about.  My children whom I would die for, are the flame beneath my newfound motivation.
My children who deserve to see how a healthy relationship works.
My children who deserve to have moral and selfless parents.
My children who will grow into men one day... and the knowlege that now, I have a far greater chance of molding them into the kind of men I pray they will be. Not the kind that they came from.
And I feel grateful.  Im grateful for this new spirit inside me.  Gratitude for this new freedom, free of lonliness and doubt and insecurity. 
Im grateful that I was a failure when it came to you.  Because I can finally stop failing me.
I dont need your eyes.  Ive got my own.
I dont need your approval... Your character no longer warrants it.
I dont believe in any brillance... My brillance is within.
No rash will spread.
No faces are yours.
My someday starts today.  and tomorrow and the day after that.
thank you for these life lessons.
For these new standards I have set for my person.  For the chance to live my life and love myself at the same time.
For the chance to spend my time with someone who will honestly love me back.
I thank you for taking me to a place that I will never allow myself to return to.
And I have no desire to be bitter... to be resentful and ugly.
I will leave that to you.
I am good.
I am worthy.
I am happy.
Im more ok than I have been in years.
It is a wonderful gift you have given me.  The best thing you have given me since the boys.
So, I thank you.
thank you . thank you.  thank you.
Because I have no doubt in my mind that my next decade will be nothing short of glorious compared to the last one.  And it is a gift that I never would have taken on my own.
But one I will never ever return.

12:57 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

THAT WAS THEN
Current mood: betrayed
Category: Life

3/23/1997

I can remember a time when I would have given anything for what's starting to happen now. 
I remember long. lonely nights where my mind was infested by you and all I craved was the sound of your voice and the feel of your skin.
Every other face was yours.  Every other thought was you.... And I was hopeless.
And a thousand different regrets stung my eyes daily and even more "what ifs" seized and suffocated me.
I remember thinking that if I could only have you back again, my existence would never be cloudy... My insides never achey.
I imagined you to be the soul source of my happiness and these fantasy's kept me company in your absence.
I remeber the weight that settled on my heart when I had to bear the burden of knowing that you were with another.
I remember the birth of my bitterness that burned and spread all throughout me because I felt she was where I belonged, and she'd stolen my chance and she'd taken your eyes... And I had been cheated.  I had been weak., and I'd lost to her.
My "happily ever after" would always only amount to foolish wishful thinking.
The "someday" that I'd so stubbornly hung onto was only a disillusional dream.
And although I'd been alone already for quite some time, it began to dawn on me that alone was to be the way that I'd remain- for you would not be coming back to me.  Your eye's would never again search for mine- your arms would not reach out to hold me.  Your presence would not be there to comfort me...
And my own stupidity shamed me.
So I began to tend to the painful chore of confronting my denial.  I attempted the task of acceptance, I made a conscious effort to eliminate you from my memory.. But I had been granted a daily reminder and because of my time with him, I still had a part of you... And I learned a love like no other.
And part of my void was thankfully filled with the joy he gave me and the responsibility I owed him.  And my concern for him ran deeper than any concerns for myself and I began learning how to give.  I gained maturity through the gift of him, and I would trade him for no other.  I would gladly care for him with tenderness and sincerity and respect-
And even though my dreams of you would only be just that, I was still incredibly blessed and through him a little bit of your beauty still shone on me everyday.  And I learned to appreciate him for the miracle that he is, and in many ways that alone was more than I could ask for and the realization of all that I did have helped me begain to heal.
But even as my mind became less crowded with images of you... and of us, the bitterness didn't fade away with the unchangable loss of you.
And as I slowly let go of my unrealistic wishes for things to return to the way they once were, I was unable to release the soreness of knowing that part of his time was being spent with her.  It remained painful and I despised the fact that she was bathing him, reading to him, playing with and holding him - and I was never able to shake the feeling that it wasn't her place.  That she had no business there... That it should be me there with him, that it was my right and mine alone to be the one to care for, provide for and love him.
He was my flesh and blood.  My friend.  My sanity.  The best part of my life and I had earned it 100%.
And her invasion angered me.
Her presence alone fucked with my serenity.
My pain and jealousy no longer stemmed from you being with her... but from her being with him...  And in spite of my wanting to be a good and fair person, I still felt cheated and denied and robbed.
I remained bitter, because not only had you moved on but you'd taken a part of me with him and you handed it all over to another.
I became resentful and it spread like a rash, and although this feeling was just as bad as accepting the fact that you wouldn't and didn't want me, it still stuck with me long after all my hopes for us were dead.  And even after your time with her ended, and the weight on my heart was lifted, my old wants for us stayed lost.
It had over time become such a foreign concept and thoughts of us together no longer crossed my mind.  And when seeing you, I no longer wished or longed for your eyes to find me... to really look and see me.
And although I wanted to be loved and desired, and although I tried to be open minded to the prospect of a relationship, and although I attempted to share my life with someone once again... I was unable.  I failed at it... And I found myself wanting to be alone again.
Somehow at sometime I'd stopped dreading the possiblity of being by myself.
I worked at it.  I welcomed it.
And suddenly like a flash of light you were there... and your deep brown eyes had found mine again.  And the feel of your skin was no longer forgotten and the softness of your kiss both shocked and startled me.  And it had been everything I'd wanted but it was everything I'd given up on.
And Im reminded again of how fiercely I'd loved you and how badly I'd wanted you to want me.
But the devestation I caused myself over you is still fresh and the rejection I felt is not forgotten... And Im torn.
I know that nobody else will ever affect me the way you do... good or bad.
I know that nobody else feels like you.  I know the bond I share with you will never be shared with another... and it all causes me to wonder if I ever was in fact over you or if it was only more of my own denial fabricating my feelings.
Have I been lying to myself this entire time?  Or am I lying to myself now?
How is it possible for me to no longer fear being on my own... yet still fear the thought of being without you once more?
Uncertainty gnaws at me, and in spite of it showing me how pathetic I've become and how weak I actually am, you've revived some of my dreams.  You've drudged up my buried emotions.
Part of me wants it all again so badly that I can't help but to cry.. and part of me wants to remain by myself where it's safe, and where my heart is still intact... where the only pain I'll have is what I have caused myself.
And yet, I've learned firsthand that regret is a harsh and brutal feeling and Im afraid I'll have to suffer it's sting once more if I dont admit my love for you to myself and try to recapture the brillance we once shared.
But it's so very difficult to see as a possiblity because it was all a lifetime long since gone.  One I had to pry myself away from so that I could function and maintain my self worth.
But when Im inside your arms, and your lips are on my neck, and your words and your breath are all around me...I cant help but to remember not wanting anything more than that very feeling, and as uncertain and as terrified as I am by all these changes... what terrifies me the most is having to be without you again and the thought of losing your eyes.
For so long I'd thought I had everything all figured out, but maybe I need to refigure everything.
Maybe what I wanted since the beginning isn't entirely unrealistic.
Maybe my "someday" starts now and maybe our brillance is still there.
Or maybe were too entirely different.. maybe there are too many painful memories to step over.  Maybe things will never feel quite the same as they once did.
Maybe I'll love you but you wont love me.
Maybe my resentments are too many and too deep for anything healthy to overcome them.
Maybe you'll change your mind and walk away without looking back and I'll hate myself for putting myself through the shittiness and the pain of it all, and I'll always feel like a fool for allowing it to happen to me twice.
Maybe regret will rack my brain, but it wont be because I didn't try... for I would regret that possibly even more than attempting and failing.
Maybe it's possible that our initial feelings for each other were the right ones all along.
Maybe I'll get the other half of my family back, and maybe I'll never lose his eyes.
Maybe he'll only have eyes for me.
Maybe I was right to want it all this time.

11:11 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Keep your shame... I’ve got my own.
Current mood: exhausted

9:20 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

A rose by any other name. . .
Current mood: determined
Category: Life

When I got married I wanted to hyphenate my last name.  Giving up my maiden name entirely made me feel like I would be losing a part of myself.  An intricate part of my personal identity.  This of course would not do.  My fiancée took a personal offense to this, even after I had explained my plight.  It was an insult, and if I could not agree to let my last name go, then perhaps I should not be getting married at all.   It was the first of many ultimatums.  It was the first of many, many battles that I would lose.

When I named my children, I thought long and hard about the best names to give them.  I wanted something that had not been recycled a thousand times over, much like my own "generic" name.  I wanted something different and unique.  Something that would correctly identify them to the rest of the world as the perfectly loved creatures they are.  They are my best work and not just any name would do.  In a perfect world, my children would have carried both my last name and my husband's.  This made perfect sense to me.  Are they not a product of BOTH of us?  By then, I had already relinquished my own last name... because as important as it was to me, It was more important to me that he not doubt my love.

So my children were branded solely with his name, just as I had allowed myself to be.  We were a family.  We all carried the same name.

In the beginning, this new name was foreign to me.  I would have to void out checks because I would automatically sign my maiden name.  I had to make a conscious effort to re-train my brain... Over the years, it was instinct.  His last name was MY name.  It no longer felt funny and I no longer carried any guilt for allowing my own last name to go.

Today, he is not my family.  Today I choke on the realization that I allowed so much more than my name to be bartered with, traded or disposed of.  My sense of self worth.  My esteem.  My opinions. My voice.  My very core. Our names are so important.  They identify us.  They define us.  Names can also exude a sense of ownership.  This ownership is what I hate most about my name today.  I gave him all I had to give and it was never enough.  I blindly trusted him in spite of my inner voice that started out as a scream and dissolved over time into a barely audible whisper.  I gave him two perfect children,  I gave him his way more often than not.  I gave him my service, my faith and my fidelity.  He gave me heartache, rage, pain and. . . .  his name.

I struggle with this name game.  He no longer owns me.  Taking back my maiden name would let the whole world know that I know this.  It would be empowering for me to throw his name away.  To cut that connection.  To acknowledge the fact to him and everyone else who knows me that I no longer have to carry that farce. I am not his wife.  I don't want his name.

On some level keeping his name makes me feel like I am letting him win.  I know that is sick but it eats at me just the same.  Will he delight himself in that sick sense of ownership, that I despise so much, knowing that I couldn't bear to let it/him go?

If it weren't for my boys, there is no question in my mind.  I would amputate that name and the feelings that I associate with it in a heart beat.  No questions asked.  No regrets.  No looking back.

But my children, of course, are still my family and they always will be.  They are the very best part of my family.  They are the only ones I love unconditionally.  They are the only ones I ever loved more than him. 

I cannot change my last name because it connects me to them, and my connection to them is sooo much more important than any to their father.

Our names identify us.  They define us.  They can empower or enrage us.

They can connect or disconnect us.

 I am keeping this name.

 I have earned this name.

 Call it a weakness. 

Call it a pity.  

Call it a shame. 

Call it mine.

Currently listening : Haunted By Poe Release date: 31 October, 2000

11:50 PM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Dont know where it came from... but im making it mine.
Current mood: grateful

 In all the world,

 there is no one else exactly like me -

 everything that comes out of me is authentically mine,

  because I alone choose it - I own everything about me - 

my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions,